The Demon Collector (2 page)

She swept away into the hurrying crowds.

‘Now what was she on about, Henry?’ Edgy muttered, staring after her. Henry gave a whine.

All that talk of riddles and birthdays made him feel nervous. Riddles always reminded him of Talon. Talon. Edgy shuddered. A devil of a man. Talon took all the muck he collected. Gave him a roof, a crust and a good kicking in return. Everybody else thought he was a decent man, but Edgy knew his true nature.

A rattling of wheels snapped him back to reality as a black funeral carriage rolled up behind Edgy. A hawk-featured undertaker grinned down on him from the driver’s seat.

‘You keepin’ ’im warm, son?’ he laughed, clambering down from the carriage like a huge thin-legged spider.

‘Saw ’im go,’ Edgy said and laid the broken body down gently. He shivered and twitched his head as he stood up. ‘Kind of felt sorry for ’im.’

‘Ah well, I reckon I’ll take ’im. Dressed smart. Looks like he worked for rich folks. Might feel guilty and pay for a modest funeral,’ he sniffed, tapping his foot against the dead boy’s thigh as if he were assessing a second-hand cart. ‘Can always sell his clothes at the least.’ He hefted the body up and dumped it into a coffin on the back of the carriage.

‘That’s ’orrible.’ Edgy stared at his scuffed boots.

‘That’s life, mate,’ the undertaker said, slamming the lid shut on the box, ‘and death.’ He clambered back on to the carriage and gave Edgy a nod. ‘Evenin’.’

Edgy watched the hearse vanish into the twilight. Was that how it ended? Limp and lifeless on the back of a cart?

He stared down for a second. A wobbly reflection peered back at him from a shimmering puddle. It was hard to tell if his face was brown from years of outdoor life or from the muck that smeared it. The tight mouth and permanent frown line between his thick eyebrows gave him a worried, suspicious kind of look. No wonder they’d called him Edgy. Not a handsome chap, that’s for sure, with his thick mop of black hair. The reflection shivered in the scummy water, twitched and licked its narrow lips.

Henry gave a grumbling whine and stretched, pressing his cheek against Edgy’s calf. Edgy stroked the fur, grey from life on the streets, the brown and black patches faded.

‘That’s life, Henry, old chap,’ Edgy said, scratching behind the dog’s ear. ‘Apparently. Come on then. Let’s go and see what delights Mr Talon has in store for us tonight.’

He shook himself and stamped on his reflection; water had soaked through the holes in his boots ages ago.

Folks of all classes now pulled their hats – toppers or flat caps – low and turned their collars against the cold fog that drifted up from the river to fill the night. The fog muffled everything, turning passers-by into indistinct shapes. The shouts and cries from the alleys seemed closer somehow.

Images of the accident and the strange woman turned over in Edgy’s mind. The sliver of bone felt warm in his pocket as he flipped it between his fingers. Why did the boy want him to take it? And what had he said? It sounded like gibberish to Edgy.

A huge square shadow parted the mist, blocking Edgy’s path. He skipped sideways into the gutter to avoid being squashed. It was a cage on wheels. As the cage trundled past in the swirling fog, Edgy could make out a fox curled in one corner. A rabbit nestled close to it and a hawk rocked on a perch above them. Edgy read the sign above the cage:
Happy Families – The Lion Lies down with the Lamb
.

Hardly a lion
, Edgy thought, looking at the mangy fox huddled in the filthy straw. He’d seen these street attractions before – animals that normally devoured each other caged and trained to live in peace. The rich kids loved them. Edgy would watch them pulling their mothers, fathers or nannies over to the cage, begging for a farthing to see the animals. He’d watched the indulgent smiles of the parents with a sting of envy.

Happy Families
. Edgy sighed.
A mother or father. That’d be nice. Anyone who cared, really. Anyone but Talon
.

Edgy prayed Talon would be asleep or blind drunk tonight. Or better still, dead.

Better the devil you know than the devil you don
’
t.

Traditional proverb

Chapter Two

A Dangerous Stranger

What is it that everyone is born with, some die with, but most die without?
The lady’s riddle teased Edgy as he dodged the ghostly figures that emerged from the mist. He shivered and glanced around. For a moment, he had the strangest notion he was being followed.

People cursed and side-stepped Edgy as he shuffled his way across London Bridge.
Nothing like carrying a sackful of dog muck to clear your way
, he thought, allowing himself a humourless grin. His face dropped as he turned a corner and the sulphurous reek of the tanning yards clogged his nostrils worse than the stink of the Thames or the streets.

This whole part of the south bank smelt foul. Here jam makers boiled vats of sugar and fruit in crumbling workshops next to slaughterhouses and tanning yards that spewed yellow sulphurous clouds, thickening the already choking fog. The smell was a sickening mixture of sweet quince jam, meat, offal and tanning agents, and it drifted from the workshops and yards whose blackened brick walls loomed over Edgy.

A narrow alley took Edgy away from the hustle of the streets and into a shadowy maze that twisted and turned. Rough, broken-toothed men propped up crumbling walls and eyed him as he passed. He paid them no heed. There weren’t many folks who would roll him in the mud to steal what he was carrying. Besides, he was fast on his feet if he needed to run.

Edgy ducked into a small yard. His shoulder ached with the weight of the bag, full and heavy. He dragged it over his head, twisting his face away from the contents. Nobody wants ten pounds of dog muck tipped over themselves. He heard the filth slither from his bag and slip into a metal vat set in the ground. It bubbled and mixed with the rest of the foul concoction. The smell caught the back of his throat. He had never got used to it. Tomorrow he would be knee deep in the cocktail of excrement and urine that he’d collected from across the city, treading the raw hides into it to soften them.
Something else to look forward to
.

The tannery building itself rose above the yard some three storeys. The red-brick front was dotted with small windows and hatches with pulleys and winches for bringing goods up to higher floors. The huge oak doors stood slightly open.

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here
, Edgy thought. This was where he met the sharp end of Talon’s tongue and the hard end of his boot.
Why not run away?
The thought occurred to Edgy every day. But where to? Into the darkness of the London streets to have his throat slit? Into the Thames to mudlark and be drowned? There was always the workhouse. Edgy had seen the pale, grey-faced children through the bars. Why would he go there to cough his final hours away as he died of some wasting disease? And what would become of poor Henry? No. At least they were dry and warm among the curing vats.

Edgy scurried through the wooden doors. Henry scampered close to him, the sound of his clicking claws echoing back down from the shadows of the workshop’s high-vaulted ceiling. Wet hides dripped and festered on the ropes that stretched between the building’s slimy walls. And there, among the piles of skin and hoof and bone, sat Talon, bottle in hand, glowering.

It was trouble, Edgy knew in an instant.

Edgy tried not to look at him. He knew what he would see. Talon’s eyes burning like coals deep in his twisted face. Skin crimson and bubbling like lava. Horns sprouting from his head.

Was Edgy the only one who could see what he was? Customers didn’t flinch as they did business with Talon. Once, as a young boy, Edgy had mentioned it to Bill Fager, the rosy-cheeked landlord of the Green Man Inn, who used to drop by from time to time. Edgy had told him about the horns and the hooves and the red skin.

‘You’ve a good imagination, Edgy Taylor, I’ll give you that,’ Bill had said, smiling and shaking his head. Then he’d leaned forward and whispered in Edgy’s ear, ‘Better not go tellin’ anyone else such tales, son. They’ll carry you off to Bedlam.’

Edgy glanced up, snapping back to the present. Talon ran a blackened tongue around his cracked lips and beckoned with a long, taloned finger.

‘Where you been all this time?’ he spat. ‘Talkin’ to pretty ladies?’ Talon wrinkled his pointed nose.
How did he know?
‘Don’t try denyin’ it. I can smell her on you . . . roses and violets.’

Henry trembled at Edgy’s heel, ears back. He’d seen the business end of Talon’s hoof before.

Talon stood up, swaying a little from the drink, towering over them. His cloven hooves clattered on the stone floor beneath his leather apron. His sinewy muscles bulged through his shirt.

‘I dunno what yer mean! Don’t ’urt me, Mr Talon,’ Edgy yelped. ‘I collected a load today, I been workin’ ’ard, sir!’

‘You’ve been answerin’ riddles.’ Talon cuffed Edgy with his gnarled fist, sending him sprawling. ‘I can tell!’

He stooped close and Edgy could smell his beery breath, see his crooked, yellowing teeth.

‘Well, riddle me this, Edgy. What has nails but can make a hammer, no rope but can make a noose?’ His fingers tightened around Edgy’s neck. ‘A hand? That what you’re trying to say? Well done. Won’t help though. I’m sick of wet-nursin’ you. Waste of bloomin’ time anyway if
she’s
gonna check up on yer every ten minutes. Dunno what she’s thinkin’ of, drawin’ attention to yer like that.’

What does he mean?
It sounded as if he knew the woman. Edgy’s breath whistled through his constricted throat and the blood thundered in his head, stopping all thoughts as darkness edged into his vision.

‘Stop that at once!’ a reedy voice barked.

Talon’s fingers slackened and released Edgy. Gasping and spluttering, he fell to the floor. Air and life flooded back into his body. Henry leapt over, licking at his face.

Talon stared across the workshop. His face was a picture – and not a very pretty one. His jaw hung slack, a string of spit drooled down his pointed chin.

‘Envry Janus,’ he whispered. His red face seemed to pale. ‘The Stonemason . . .’

A little old man with long white hair, a tight black suit and pointy boots stood in the doorway. He wore spectacles with red lenses and held a small metal tube in the palm of his hand.

‘Hello again, Thammuz. How’ve you been keeping?’ He smiled and pointed the tube at Talon.

‘No, don’t!’ Talon cried and turned to run, tripping over Edgy in the process. Cursing, he scrambled to his feet and grabbed Edgy’s lapels. ‘Edgy,’ he gasped, his voice thick with fear. ‘You gotta ’elp me – he’ll kill me.’

Edgy’s stomach twisted at his touch. ‘Get off me! Leave me alone!’ He slapped and punched at Talon’s arms and face.

Talon threw Edgy aside, pleading with the man. ‘Janus, don’t, I’ll do anything . . .’

‘Tell me where it is then.’ Janus’s wrinkly face was still scrunched into a smile.

‘I can’t,’ Talon groaned. ‘If I knew I’d tell yer, I swear.’

Janus shook his head and pulled a cord at the back of the tube. A muffled bang echoed around the tannery. What looked like a dirty grey snowball hurtled from the tube and smacked Talon in the face. The groaning demon span on his heel, his red skin turning instantly grey, his movements slowing. Edgy cowered against the side of a curing vat as Talon reached out. The greyness was spreading, covering his entire body.

‘Edgeeeeeeee . . .’ Talon wheezed, like a clockwork toy running out of spring. Then he froze, his face petrified into a beseeching grimace, a statue of Talon.

The cheerful, kind-faced old man blew the smoke from the end of the tube, snapped the tube shut like a telescope and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

‘What did you do to ’im?’ Edgy peered at the statue that had once been Talon and gingerly tapped its solid grey mass.

‘Don’t worry, young man, he’s ossified – turned to stone. He won’t hurt you again,’ he said, beaming at Edgy as if he was meant to understand. ‘I’ll have some men come round and pick him up later.’

‘But . . . why?’ Edgy picked Henry up, rolling his ear between his finger and thumb.

‘He’s a demon,’ Janus said simply, pocketing his spectacles and turning to leave. ‘I collected him.’

‘A demon?’ Edgy stepped towards him. His heart leapt. Then he wasn’t mad after all. Henry’s ears flattened back.

‘That’s right,’ Janus chuckled as he strode into the alleyway, his arms folded behind his back. ‘Now run along and do whatever it is you do.’

‘Y’mean he
was
a demon? A real devil? Is that why he had horns and red skin?’ Edgy called after him. Janus stopped as if he were on the end of a leash and it had just been given an almighty tug. ‘I thought I was barmy but you could see the horns too?’

Janus turned slowly and, placing his red spectacles on his wrinkled face, looked Edgy up and down. ‘Talon didn’t just look like a man to you?’

‘Sometimes when he was working or asleep he looked like an ordinary cove.’ Edgy gazed at the open toes of his scuffed boots. ‘But most of the time when he was angry and beat me, I could see the horns and stuff. I thought it was just me. Thought I’d lost me marbles, like.’