Mister Creecher (19 page)

Billy wiped away the blood that had begun to trickle between his eyebrows.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ the guard went on. ‘I thought you might show up and then, when I heard about the giant highwayman – well, I knew it must be you. I asked around and found out you’d been in the Blind Dog, looking for a fence.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I want your French friend,’ snapped the guard. ‘He lost me my job. He owes me some money, he does. And I aim to get it. So where is he?’

He pointed the pistol at Billy’s face. His hand was shaking so much Billy was sure that he was going to squeeze the trigger, whether he meant to or not.

‘All right, all right,’ said Billy. ‘The giant. Yeah. I know who you mean. But I don’t know where he is, I swear.’

‘Then that’s bad luck for you.’

‘Wait!
Wait!
All right. I’ll tell you.’

The guard smiled and put the pistol down. He looked round at his comrades and grinned. He turned back to Billy and hit him hard in the stomach, making him double up in pain.

‘Lie to me again and I’ll kill you,’ he snarled. ‘Now take us to him.’

‘Take you there?’ said Billy.

‘That’s right. What? Do you think I’d just take your word for it?’

Billy was shoved back down the alleyway to where a cart was waiting in the road. The guard told him to get up at the front and the rest of the men climbed in the back.

As Billy took his seat he could see that the cart was full of chains and manacles.

‘You’re going to take us to him and you’re going to persuade him to come quietly,’ said the guard.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Billy.

‘I don’t see that you’ve got much choice. Although I suppose we could just kill you here and take our chances with the giant . . .’

The guard sat alongside him and rested the barrel of his pistol in Billy’s lap, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

‘The first time you play me false I’m going to blow your balls off.’

‘Look, he’s nothing to me,’ said Billy. ‘He made me go with him. You’ve seen what he’s like. I couldn’t do anything else.’

‘Is that why you stood in the way when I was going to shoot him?’ said the guard, as the driver flicked the reins. ‘Now, which way?’

Billy nodded ahead.

‘He’s in a barn just out of town. But you ain’t going to get those on him. Do you think he’s going to let you? And he ain’t going to be scared of that neither.’ Billy looked down at the pistol.

‘Let us worry about that, lad.’

In no time at all they were rumbling down the track that led towards the barn.

‘He’s going to kill all of you,’ Billy said, his voice quivering with the motion of the cart. ‘And then he’s going to kill me for bringing you here.’

‘Is that the place?’ said the guard.

Billy nodded sullenly. His mouth felt dry, his palms clammy. He did not know what was going to happen in the next moments, but he was sure it was not going to be good. The driver pulled on the reins.

‘Get out,’ said the guard, shoving Billy in the ribs with the pistol.

When they had advanced a few yards towards the barn, he told Billy to stop and then pressed the pistol against the side of Billy’s head.

‘Call him out,’ he hissed.

‘Creecher!’

There was no response.

‘Again!’ said the guard.

‘Creecher!’ repeated Billy, more loudly this time.

Still nothing stirred. The guard twisted the barrel against Billy’s scalp.

‘Come out of there, you filthy troll – unless you want your little friend here to have his head blown off!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t make me ask again!’

After a short pause, Creecher emerged from the barn. He had to stoop to get through the door and stood, head bowed, staring at the guard with cold fury in his shadowed eyes. There was a general groan of fear and wonder from the assembly.

‘Finlay – get the chains.’

Creecher growled and clenched his hands into mighty fists and started towards the guard, who didn’t even flinch.

‘One step closer and I blow this boy’s brains out.’

‘Balls one minute, brains the next,’ said Billy. ‘Make your bleedin’ mind up.’

‘Shut up,’ snarled the guard.

Creecher growled like an angry dog and Billy shut his eyes and waited for the pistol blast. But when he opened his eyes again, to his amazement, Creecher was standing still.

‘Now you’re going to let these fellows put some jewellery on your foul carcass and you ain’t going to lift a finger to stop them. Cos if you do, this boy’s meat – understood?’

Billy could not believe it when Creecher simply nodded in response. The men moved forward gingerly, but gained in confidence as, first, manacles were locked round the giant’s ankles, and then his wrists. A great belt was tied around his middle and chains from his wrists and ankles were locked to loops along its length. Finally, a metal collar was placed around Creecher’s neck and chains attached from loops on this to further loops on the belt.

All through the process, Creecher gazed directly at Billy and never once looked away.

‘Excellent,’ said the guard. ‘Give him the drink.’

A man advanced towards Creecher, holding a small bottle. Creecher pulled back his thin black lips and bared his teeth in a snarl.

‘Don’t worry,’ said the guard. ‘It ain’t poison.’

Creecher’s snarl remained in place.

‘Drink it!’ hissed the guard.

The man with the bottle hesitated, but the guard nodded for him to carry on and, when he held the bottle to Creecher’s lips, the giant allowed the liquid to be poured down. A moment later he blinked once and then shifted his weight, shaking his head.

‘Just a little potion of my own devising,’ said the guard. ‘It will make you a little more obliging. Get him in the cart, men. Quick, quick. That’s right, put the sacking over him.’

The guard let Billy go, shoving him to one side. He threw a purse at Billy’s feet, where the coins it contained spilled on to the dirt. Billy wiped the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand and cursed.

‘For your trouble,’ said the guard, laughing as he climbed in next to the driver.

Billy looked up from the coins to see the cart rumbling away and Creecher staring out from under the sacking with a look of cold, murderous hatred.

He walked over to a tree stump and sat down. The rain had stopped, but he was soaking wet and cold. He hung his head and closed his eyes. He sat there for a long time.

Billy was free now. He could do what he liked. His life had been possessed by the giant for months, but now he was gone. Billy should never have become involved in his affairs in the first place. Creecher’s struggle was his own business. Whatever happened to him and Frankenstein was none of Billy’s concern. They could all rot for all he cared.

He was sick of hearing how badly Creecher had been treated. Because he was one of a kind, he thought that his pain was unique. But Billy knew all too well what it was like to be ignored, shunned and despised.

No – Billy should not feel bad about the giant. He ought to be happy: happy that he could do what he liked without fear of being throttled; happy that he was free again. And yet . . . Billy did not feel as happy as he thought he should. He was unable to shake off a growing sense of guilt, and it was not a feeling he was accustomed to.

This guilt made him angry. He had done nothing wrong, after all. Creecher could hardly expect him to let someone blow his brains out. He had had no choice.

But that thought only led inevitably to the memory of Creecher giving himself up. The giant had allowed himself to be taken to save Billy’s life. He had gone willingly, without a struggle.

‘I never asked you to!’ shouted Billy to the wind. ‘I don’t owe you nothing!’

He shook his head. Why had Creecher done it? By the time the guard had shot Billy, the giant would have been on him, and Billy had no doubt at all that he would have killed any who had not the wit nor the wherewithal to escape. Creecher had put Billy’s life ahead of his own.

But why? It didn’t make sense. He had made it plain enough that all he cared about was Frankenstein building him a mate.

Billy returned to his lodgings, ignoring the disapproving looks he received from his landlord, and changed into dry clothes. He sat in front of his fire, staring into the flames. As his bones began to warm themselves, he became calmer.

He looked into the fire glow, into the blurred brightness of the flickering flames, and images from the past weeks shimmered before his eyes.

He seemed to see Creecher rise up and save him from Fletcher that first frosty night outside the bookshop. Then he looked again through the greasy window at Frankenstein in his blood-soaked laboratory, and saw Creecher rise once more from that open grave in the churchyard.

These spectres of the past and others danced before his eyes, but the one that returned again and again was the vision of Creecher being led away in chains.

‘I don’t owe you nothing,’ said Billy quietly to himself.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Billy edged his way along the side of the stables. It had been easy enough to find. The guard was too cocky and drunk to imagine he had be followed from the coaching inn.

There was a half-moon, low in the sky. It gave Billy enough light to see where he was going without revealing his presence to anyone who might walk by.

As he approached the corner of the stables, strange noises sounded from a nearby copse. Billy had no idea what they were, but they made him jittery. The countryside seemed to be alive with squawking and barking and twittering.

He stepped behind the trunk of an ancient oak tree and felt his way cautiously round its massive girth, his hands rumbling over its cracked and weathered hide. Peering round, he saw a man sitting on a barrel outside the stable entrance, smoking a pipe, the red glow of it pulsing as he sucked.

Billy waited patiently until the man got up to answer a call of nature, before slipping silently into the darkness that lay between him and Creecher’s prison.

The stables were pitch-black at first, until Billy’s eyes grew a little accustomed and he saw that some light did seep through cracks in the shutters.

‘Pssst. Creecher?’ he whispered.

There was a bearlike moan in response.

‘You . . . come to . . . gloat?’ said Creecher slowly from the shadows. His speech was slurred. ‘You . . . who . . . betrayed me.’

‘I didn’t betray you,’ said Billy. ‘Shhhh. What’s the matter with you? You sound drunk.’

‘Drugged,’ Creecher replied. ‘Why . . . why . . . are you . . . here?’

‘That’s nice,’ said Billy. ‘I didn’t have to come here, you know.’

‘Then . . . why have you?’

‘Keep your voice down. I’ve come to get you out. After all, it was my fault – you being here. In a way.’

Creecher growled.

‘He was going to blow my balls off!’ hissed Billy. ‘What was I expected to do?’

‘You got . . . your . . . reward,’ said Creecher.

‘Look, I never asked for the money, but I wasn’t about to give it back neither. I could have used it to get to London but I didn’t. I came here. Now do you want my help or not?’

There was no response from Creecher and Billy took a deep breath and turned to walk away.

‘Oui. Yes. I want your help. I am –’

‘Shhh!’ said Billy. ‘There’s someone coming.’

Billy scuttled clear of the building and hid outside, his eye pressed to a crack in the shutter. He saw two men enter the darkened ruin, like ink into filthy water.

‘Are you asleep?’ said a voice Billy recognised all too well. It was the guard from the coach.

Creecher made no response.

‘No matter,’ said the guard. ‘No matter. We will soon go our separate ways, my giant friend. I am about to have a meeting with a learned gentleman with an interest in the natural sciences.’

The guard and his partner chuckled. Billy frowned. Frankenstein? Had Frankenstein discovered that Creecher was here? Creecher groaned.

‘The gentleman concerned has a particular passion for anatomy. He’s not as interested as I am in your sparkling wit. But he was most intrigued when I told him how big you were. I explained that you’d been ill for quite some time, and he said, were that illness to reach a fatal conclusion, he would buy your body in the interests of science. There now, you ugly piece of meat,’ said the guard. ‘You’re going to make a contribution to mankind. You should be proud.’

Creecher stirred in his chains.

‘Nothing to say?’ said the guard. ‘Never mind, never mind. Now drink this.’

‘No,’ said Creecher.

The guard sighed.

‘Either you drink it or I take one of your eyes. It’s a shame to damage the goods, but I think you’ll still make a decent price.’

Billy heard Creecher moan, and it was clear that the guard had given him the potion.

‘Good boy,’ he said. ‘That should keep you quiet for a few hours.’