Sparky The Superhero’s Story
Chapter Six – Wanting to Hunt Demons
Yet aye the miller sings and swears,
Though kissing he'd had plenty,
For one kiss o' that bonny mouth
He'd freely give up twenty
Ava was very happy when the servants arrived. Even at the appearance of Dickens, the vampire butler. He looked every inch the part in his frockcoat and dark clothing. His fangs, though, gave the game away somewhat.
Dickens was a halfblood, as such he could not retract his fangs. His strength and speed would still be much faster than any human’s but of course a lot slower than a true vampire.
Somehow his sallow skin and his eyes surrounded by darkened flesh gave him an air of melancholia that seemed to suit him. It made him look more like a butler of an eerie establishment.
It was fitting. After all, before I owned this place it was the residence of The Vampire Dracovitch.
Ava had decided to stay here, to live here for a while. She informed me she would be taking the master bedroom on the second floor. I would take the one on the third. Just like that, she told me what was happening and, just like that, I accepted it.
She then walked away to talk to the head cook, a woman of similar girth to her, as all good cooks should be.
My uncle Wilbur was wrong. He said men don’t make passes at women with fat arses. As Ava walked away to the kitchens, I knew it was the daftest thing he had ever said.
Mind you, I was totally infatuated with Ava.
It turned out we didn’t have a few staff. We had a small army of them. Butler, first footman, second and third. Parlour maids and chambermaids. A lady’s maid for Ava to help her dress and to keep her clothes clean and in good condition. A valet to do the same for me. A cook, an under-cook, two kitchen maids and a boots. A boots was a bootboy who did a lot of other menial work as well. He was younger than the others, being only twelve. Last and probably least was the maid of all work. It was her job to fill in any duties but at fourteen she was mostly used as a kitchen skivvy.
I had refused the entrancing ten-pound note, instead to let Dracovitch pay for everything. He would understand these things better or give the money to the butler to handle for him.
I had been told a good butler does not clump along, he glides. Dickens certainly did that. He was small and portly, as a butler should be, but he did glide along soundlessly. Whether that was because he was a vampire or just a good butler, I do not know.
I went down to my own drawing room to placate Dracovitch. To make him feel he was getting something for his side of the deal.
At one of the desks, I did loose sketches of what it would take to make what he called a shotgun. Two long barrels that were rods of hollowed out metal. Cartridge cases made out of hardened porcine skin. To fill those, I added a sketch of lots of tiny metal balls. As I explained to the vampire, I thought metal balls would travel faster through the air than metal spikes. He agreed with me and tried to tell me about the magic of something called aerodynamics. I did not understand any of that.
I asked about gums and guns on his world, his original world, Stepping Stone. He told me that all the guns were powered by laser. That was some sort of light he told me. Again, I did not understand but it did become clear he had not seen my sort of weapons before. Like my handgun and my shotgun, when it was made.
I sketched an arm mount for my shotgun. A piece of wood that would tuck into the shoulder. A shotgun is a two-handed weapon. One arm bracing, the other aiming and firing. It would have to be so, as the propulsion system would be much stronger than on the handgun. The sort of difference between a catapult and a handgun.
The handgun was a close-range weapon. This was to be a long-ranged weapon hence the long barrels. He seemed entranced by my words.
A footman came in but he was just bringing in sandwiches for me and a pint of beer. For the vampire a heart that had just stopped beating. I stared at the vampire until he explained it was an animal heart. The locos.
The locos is a form of monkey or ape with hardly any hair on his body. It looked similar to humans except for it elongated jawline and the over-brow on its head.
“They are an evolutionary end piece,” the vampire explained. “On other planets they evolved into humans. The locos here though show no sign of evolving. They cannot even use sticks as tools.”
It was like he was speaking a foreign language.
“Master, a person is outside,” the footman said to me.
“The person’s name would help,” I prompted the footman.
“The person calls himself Ted. He is one of those Crusher type peoples.”
Was my footman a snob? It certainly sounded like it.
“Shall I have him taken downstairs to wait with the servants. Cook will feed him if you wish.”
I felt like saying Dracovitch could feed upon the footman. Crushers were alright. True, sometimes they tried to arrest you and you had to kill them but that was their job not them.
“Take him into the sitting room. Give him java and small foods. Tell him I will be up to see him in a minute.”
“But, sir, he is a lowly personage . . .”
The vampire moved and I saw nothing, not a blur, nothing. He was just standing next to the footman.
“Your master has given you an order. If you do not wish to follow that order, I can tie you down in the wine cellar to be food for the butler.”
The footman gulped, a huge Adam’s apple gulp.
“I will show the guest into the sitting room and have refreshments sent in for him.”
The footman then ran for it. No walking away, no backing away just a full paced run for the door.
“Now for the shotgun. I was thinking it could be broken open to load it like this.” I drew an untidy sketch of what I meant. “That would mean we would need a joined action here that would fit into the shoulder part of the gun. Of course, all this metalwork will be separate until it is made. The stock, the barrels, all of it. Now here would be the trigger with a guard so it would not be pressed accidently.” Another sketch.
“How will the gun propel the cartridge of balls?”
“I thought a magic spring powered by a superfast clockwork mechanism. These two barrels take a cartridge each.” Another sketch, all of these quite separate. I would not join the drawing up until I was sure what I wanted and then it would be done in detail at one of the other drawing tables. “At the end of each cartridge would be a metal disk about the same size as a florin, a two-shilling piece. There would be a hammer here that would hit the metal disks. That is similar to how it is done with the handgun. The hammer does not need pulling back or anything like that. Magic takes it all into account.”
“But the hammer hitting a metal disk will not . . .”
“The hammer edge where it hits the metal disk will be infused with magic. Ah no, you are right. The hammer should have some magic but so should all of the ammunition. I used a green globe on the pistol . . .”
My memory of making the handgun was clear and unclear. Bits were hazy. That is because my memories of making the time were from a dream.
“I lost the green globe . . . I do not know where it is,” I confessed.
“They are everywhere at the moment.”
“I thought they were very rare. Like, one a city rare. They are myth, no clockwork parts, no steam. They should not exist.”
“Ah! I see,” said Dracovitch. “No, these are not those. These are copies of that. They, unlike the true forms, burn out in a certain time. Maybe a month. They last less time than a glow globe. Even the globes we use for lighting only need a recharge or a change of part after a year or so. These are completely defunct in a month. Are they worth my study?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Copies or originals, it does not matter. If they use no clockwork or steam, they are exactly what you want. Pure magic.”
“Ah, I will collect some of those.” I think that grabbed his interest, more so maybe than my designs for a shotgun.
Just like that he was gone. I thought I saw a blur this time but I may have been mistaken.
I had fulfilled my mission without finishing my sketches. The firing mechanisms I could work on at some other time.
The first footman was waiting for me as I left the drawings room. He escorted me to the sitting room. Ava was there with our guest. He was standing. Maybe he did not think our chairs could take his weight. A parlour maid was pouring java, a cake stand was there with many small delicacies of confectionary.
The butler stood at the back of the room, watching all, making sure everything was right in the service of the new owners.
The sitting room had many chairs of all types, armchairs and a sofa and an ottoman with a low headrest only at one end. A small table had been placed between the armchairs.
The Crusher was looking most uncomfortable with a side plate in one hand as he was offered a small cup of java.
“Silly girl. This is a man of size. He cannot handle such a small cup. Go and get a mug or a tankard.”
The girl rushed from the room, embarrassed at the public castigation from her superior.
“Crusher Ted, what can I do for you?” I asked, accepting a cup of java, poured by the butler no less.
“I have changed my patch to this area, Notting Tree. I was about to do something totally mad and you stopped me. Without you I certainly would have been tortured until I was insane. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing. But do keep an eye on the place while I am gone. I don’t mean stand outside and guard it. Come in . . .”
“The gentleman would always be welcome in the servant’s hall, master . . . or as a guest if you prefer. In the servant’s hall however, he could eat with us and sup with us.”
Ted nodded. He liked the sound of that. Rich houses meant good food. Servants from what I knew ate as well as their masters, usually the same foodstuffs.
I also knew that the one rule a master should obey is to never go down to the servant’s hall. It was simply bad manners. That is their place.
I would have tell Ava that, as she had gone to the kitchen earlier to talk to the cook. As mistress of the house if she wanted to converse with the cook, she should summon her to the living room and discuss things there.
Just because they were servants does not mean they are a lower life form. Despite what the rich might think.
“I will be going away soon. Hunting a striped demon in Czar. Probably outside Czar actually.”
“In the wilderness, the wilds?”
Everyone looked shocked, even the butler.
“No-one goes into the wilds. It is too dangerous. It is . . . not of our world,” Ava said slowly.
It was true. City folk might go from city to city but never into the wilderness outside of a city. To them only monsters lived out there waiting to catch city folk and eat them. Even the Veterans stayed in their villages, apart from hunting. Their croplands and their living places were enclosed by stakes and palisades to keep them safe from marauding beasts.
The wilderness was a terrifying place, uncivilised, chaotic, savage in the extreme. An untamed place of monsters and beasts that no sane man would stay in.
“I go into the wilds. I am just back from a trip, hunting werewolves in Hex. I killed one in the city, their leader, I think. After that I hunted the pack and they hunted me. I bagged about seven or eight. The rest will resort to being human until the next full moon.”
“With that gun thing of yours?” the Crusher asked.
“Nope. Mostly with a sword.”
“But you are little . . .”
All people are little to Crushers. Their height, their bulk, their strength.
“Don’t worry. I have to build a gun first. One with longer range. That will take me a day or two.”
Ava looked worried. Sure, she would hunt a vampire . . . but that was in a city. When she had thought she was equipped to fight a vampire, she had not been. Even with the silver stake we had got for her, she was too slow, all humans were. My inventions, toys more like, gave me an edge when things were stacked against me.
“You cannot go to Czar. Monsters have surrounded the place for so long, most people there are part monster. They have infected the city,” Ava insisted.
I could not see how this would happen. Unless a Creator made it so.
“I won’t go with you, not outside . . . not into the wilds.” Ava was not worried about hurting my feelings, not on this matter. This was the wilds we were talking about.
“I am sorry Avalonia. I am infatuated with you, maybe even love you. You are my dream woman. But I hunt. That is what I do.”
“You invent. Stick to that. The butler said that vamp told him you were the best inventor ever.”
The butler looked suitably shamefaced for saying such a thing.
“I’ll tell you what. There is a jug-box in the workshop. I will change it to enable you to select the song you want each time. I will do that before I leave.”
“Do you just pick a hunt or are you hired to do something?” It was a good question from the Crusher.
“I listen to the gossip and find out what has been causing the most trouble. Or has been capturing the most attention. I went after the Whitechapter Vampyre for both of those reasons at once. The newspapers were selling stories on it, most of them untrue. Only a few people had died but it would carry on until someone ended it. I did that.”
“We did that,” Ava said proudly.
“We all did that,” was my comment. I was not going to take anything away from Ava.
There was a bark in the corner of the room. The hellhound had arrived.
“Master, is that your dog?” the butler asked while the parlourmaid was giving Ted a big tankard of hot java. “Shall I fetch a bowl of water and some food for it?”
“No water. It is a hellhound. Water will hurt it. Pick a place near me and leave meat for it. Actually, better not. Bring me a plate of meat every so often. It toasts its meat with its own flames so nowhere near these beautiful carpets or curtains.”
“There is a stone patio at the back of the building.” The butler did not seem surprised at all. The essence of being a good butler.
“Will it eat me?” the parlourmaid squealed.
“Violet!” the butler said sharply. Asking a question of the master indeed and her just a parlourmaid. Did she not know she should ask the butler, who would ask me.
“She doesn’t eat anyone. I give her meat and she eats it. If anyone else feeds her I will have to sack them. It would be a very serious offence.”
“That’s his dog, don’t touch it.” It was a voice that sounded like it came from the grave.
The Vampire Dracovitch was back.
“Vampire, you have to stop him. He is going hunting in the wilds.” Ava was pleading with the undead, trying to protect me.
“I see a Crusher, a hunter, a woman who call kill by jumping on someone and using a stake, a hellhound. At night when the bad creatures come out, there is me.” The vampire seemed to drawl out these words as if they would mean something.
Ava, normally so bright, took a few seconds over this one.
“Oh, allies, friends, so he does not have to do this on his own. It is true that he would never have survived that mansion house without me.”
She did not say this in a thoughtful way, she spoke in a boasting, gleeful way.
“If the smooth running of this house could survive without me, I would also attend.”
Dickens the butler actually smiled, a very toothy smile.
“This is true. I can call on Dickens when I want and he will come. He is my halfblood.”
“Blood, milord?” asked Dickens of his vampire master.
“I have fed once tonight and eaten a heart of a locos. I will not need nutrition for days now, weeks at a pinch.”
“Ah, a cup of java then milord.” Dickens himself poured a cup of java for his maker and to our astonishment Dracovitch drank it.
He seemed amused as our response. All in the room, the parlour maid too, looked stupefied.
“Vampires can enjoy food and drink. It is a rare known fact but we do enjoy such things. They do not however give us sustenance. As we are all friends here tonight, I do not think I need hide it.”
“Yeah, well I don’t like it,” Ted the Crusher said loudly.
“We have cha if the java is not to sir’s taste.” Dickens spoke in measured tones.
Cha was much more expensive than java and had a much more delicate taste. It was therefore a thing that the rich drank.
“No, I mean going outside a city. It scares me silly. It scares me even more than these two fangers do.”
I thought it a little impolite to use the word ‘fanger’ while the vampires were present but Crushers are not the most subtle of people.
It did however show me how much the wilds scared others. I had been in the wilds many times. Indeed, after my escape, I had lived in the wilds until I found a city to enter. I had been pursued through the bleak wilderness by Doctor Gory’s monsters. The uninhabited wastelands held no fears for me.
“Look, it would be good to go out there with friends but it might be safer for me alone. If it will make you feel better, I will spend a whole week making equipment before I go. I have lots of ideas.”
For some reason they made Ava and the Crusher look only more wretched. The hellhound though barked. That was easy to understand, she would be with me.
“If I . . .” The butler let out a little cough and I nodded. “Perhaps Miss Ava and Master Ted are right about one thing. If you are hired, you may be of far more use than picking random targets.”
I think I must have missed that conversation somehow or maybe the vampire butler was reading their minds.
“I will think about that. There are not many contracts handed out and those that do get that far are usually for piddling creatures. You know, like goblins, or fairies at the bottom of gardens, or gremlins. Only last week the tram company put out a contract for killing gremlins at the Hex terminus. Anyone can kill gremlins, the trick is finding them. They are most devious creatures. Most contracts are taken up by Crushers and they do well at them because the monsters are so pathetic.”
“Pathetic in your terms,” Ava reminded me. “Not in everyone else’s.”
I tried to change the subject. “You can board here too, Ted.”
“Above stairs or below?” asked the butler respectfully, helping me somewhat.
Below stairs is the term always used for the kitchens, servant’s quarters and the servant’s hall when they gathered to eat and take in their rest-time.
“Which ever he finds more accommodating. I think it will have to be above stairs though. If you can find a bed sturdy enough for him.”
“Ah I see the problem. Yes, the guest bedroom has a solid wood base bed and is of long design. It was made for . . .”
I gave him a glance and he shut up. I did not need to know who it was made for.
“You are just trying to entice me into coming along with you. Out into the wilderness. I will sleep at Mrs Etherington’s. She is the landlady around here for Crushers.”
“Suit yourself. I will probably be better alone. I have only myself to worry about. I have done this countless times before. I hunt, I come back for a day or so and I go hunt. It is what I do.”
I thought the thing I did was easier for me alone but they needed time to think.
In the downstairs workshop I had laid out all the parts I needed for the shotgun. With saws I shaped them to size and then screwed them in tight or welded them with the sparks from my finger.
When I had made up my mind about how the firing mechanism should work, everything had fallen into place.
Even though this was just a dream.
The metal tips of the cartridges I dipped in a formula I had worked out. I hope it was as powerful as the one in the handgun. I thought it would be, if not more so.
I took a bowl, put some clockwork pieces in the bowl, some sparks magic added to that. After that, over the magic clockwork mechanisms, I added gear oil. It rapidly thickened into a sludge. I then used a steam blower on it and the mixture became almost solid.
This was now a powerful magical oil that had all the components of Clock Magic in it. Clockwork, steam and magic plus spark magic as well.
I dipped two hundred cartridges that I had prepared into the mixture, only the metal tip touching it. I then put them in a little satchel.
Both gun and ammunition were ready.
I was in the wilds. I had travelled by train to Ness, the furthest city north. There I had gone into the wilderness. The animals did not avoid me anymore. The monsters stayed away though.
I was there, talking to a tree, as you do. A magnificent weeping willow over twenty foot tall. The only thing different about this tree than the others was this tree was talking back.
“Of course you can make creatures to your own design. You are an inventor of great genius. Inside you is a Creator, Lianna. She understands how creatures work. Animals, monsters, humans, she understands them all.”
The willow was wanting me to make creatures new to this world.
“If I was good enough, I would make a dragon to fight the dragons that the Creators make. They are created and then are too big to handle by the Creators and so are released into the wilds. There are no beasts or villagers strong enough to take them out. Even most heroes stay away from dragons.” I told the tree in no uncertain terms.
“Dragons, of the natural type, grow from tiny creatures and double in size year after year.” The tree told with a voice like a creaking branch. “They are not full size for a hundred years. By that time, they are bigger than whole villages. A baby dragon would not survive out here in the wilds. There are just too many predators. It would not have a mother dragon to protect it.”
“See, every time I think of something, there is a reason to prevent it.”
“The problem you are having is you are seeing things in terms of good and evil. The Creators monsters are evil and you are good and want to create allies for the cause of good. There is no good and evil, only life.”
A slim branch of the willow lifted and a bird the size of a true-hawk landed on it. It was not of a type I had seen before. It was brightly coloured and would have stood out amongst the trees and foliage around here.
It was true, though, that I rarely took note of the birds. In the wilderness I was usually too busy trying to stay alive.
“This bird is a baby dragon if you so wish,” the willow tree said to me and lowered the branch.
I put out a hand and the bird hopped onto it. Poor birdie!
I pulled the top off my finger with my mouth and a line of sparks erupted from it. I calmly opened up the bird’s chest with the searing sparks. My finger pressed inside and then withdrew.
It was if I was watching myself doing these actions.
“You don’t need cogs and wheels. You don’t need steam. Tell the bird to fly,” the tree urged me. Its branches were lifting showing its purple bark.
I think the tree was excited about something.
I lifted my hand, half expecting the bird to die.
It flew and as it did so it assumed another shape. Its body lengthened, its wings snapped higher and grew longer, its tail pushed out, long and spindly.
Its tail? Birds did not have tails.
It flew back to me, a perfect tiny dragon. It was green, all the shades of green. From lime green to a mottled dark green around its snout and its underbelly.
Another bird landed on my shoulder.
The tiny dragon spoke to it, in growls and cheeps and snarls. For a tiny dragon it sure had a lot of teeth.
The purple and green bird landed on my hand and looked at me. I knew what it wanted.
I did the operation again and, as it flew away, it too turned into a tiny dragon but darker in hue. Still green but no light patches. Its whole skin was mottled dark green and its snout and belly were black.
This was the male. The other the female. A mating pair.
“As I told you, baby dragons will not survive out here alone.” The weeping willow creaked at me.
I could see why. Each dragon was no longer than six inches in length.
“Are there human type dragons that could protect them?” I asked.
I knew of a lot of different monsters, mostly made by Creators but not one that would protect baby dragons.
“I perceive your thought. Humans with wings and snouts like dragons. Snouts full of many very sharp teeth.” The tree’s response was like a breeze ruffling the leaves. “There could be, if you make them.”
The wind grew and the willow’s branches shook and bent and rustled and creaked. A family of bears approached. Not a full family I noticed. There was only one adult and four cubs. Each was a tan colour with black on the paws and around their snouts. There were not huge, not as bears go on Clock. The adult would only stand ten feet tall.
“Seeing your reluctance to change creatures by harming them too much, I will do it. It is a talent you must learn though.” The willow creaked at me again. “Not harm but to change.”
A branch of the willow rose and fell and in front of me were humans, one adult at eight foot tall and four younger members. Not children, more like young adults in their early twenties. All were naked. The mature adult a male, two girl youngsters and two boys.
“Think and do. Do not worry about it, do not give it too much thought, just do what comes naturally.”
I went to the mature adult and took the tip off my finger and made an incision with the line of lightning coming from my finger. I would have to go deep or the lightning would seal its own wound by cauterizing it.
“Come, little dragon. I know you can do this.”
The darker of the dragons flew up and breathed into the wound. I was expecting fire but I was wrong. First it was sparks and then a tiny line of lightning. The line was so thin it was slimmer than one of my fingers.
The man in front of me began to change. His face pushed out and his nose became a long snout, his eyes bulged and then a ridge of scales surrounded them. His hair became ridges of scales upon scales, his body lost the hair that covered it and scales pushed out from the flesh.
Long claws pushed out from the nails in the hands and then the toes as well. The feet grew longer and flatter. The beast screamed as wings erupted from his back.
Now in front of me was a human shaped person armoured with scales and wings on his back. The first dragon man. The dragon flew to his clawed hand and the dragon man petted the tiny dragon.
The female dragon, the one with the lighter colouring was now at work. She did not wait for me. She flew at the youngsters, burning their chests with her lightning breath. Hers too had more sparks than true lightning but it was strong enough to burn wounds in the youngsters.
They too began the change.
The male dragon looked at the willow and chirruped. The branch lifted and fell, more bears arrived, six in total. All were young adults I thought, not as large as the first mature one.
The dragons did not wait for them to be transformed into humans. They used their lightning breath on each of them. These too began to change.
The first ones looked like the adult male, these bear-changed ones were big and had larger scales and longer snouts. They looked formidable.
“The first is the chieftain, the other four human converted ones are like his children, royals. The last six are guardians. They will guard not only the dragons but the royals as well. They are not as intelligent as the royals but are considerably more dangerous.”
I had created dragon guards as well. No-one, no monster would get through the guards to attack the baby dragons. The only creature that could manage that was a wild dragon, one that had been made by a Creator and then abandoned.
I did not imagine a wild dragon would attack such tiny forms of their own kind.
My job here was not over. Before I come here Cassandra the Seer, one of the voices in my head, had told me to pack weapons. This I had done.
From my magical backpack I produced blade after blade. The first six were half blade, half scythe. A gutting weapon that also was useful for beheading or slicing into the opponent’s side. Each was large. These I gave to the guardians.
The next were sabres, good strong blades with the slight curvature of the blade. Two of these for the male royals. For the ladies, single edge axes, as big as I could wield. They took strength to use but were hideously effective at close quarters.
For the chieftain a blade five foot in length and a foot wide. A huge weapon but he was ten foot tall. The others between seven and eight feet but he was ten foot tall and broad as a barrel.
It would take an enemy of great courage to attack the chieftain with this weapon in his hands.
I awoke in the bed groaning and found that Ava was there. I wouldn’t say she was in a romantic mood. She just wanted sex, and a little bit of kissing, but mostly sex.
Loud, fast paced, bed-rocking, headboard-banging sex.
This form of very energetic exercise tired me out and soon I was back to dreaming.
The ‘tricity was arcing into several points of my body, leather straps held me down. From what I could see, my body was a patchwork of limbs and stitching.
I had been awake for every limb being attached, even the ones that had failed. Weeks or months had gone past, maybe even years. Such pain as I never had in my previous life.
I was finished now but apparently my mistress thought my body needed charging to mend properly. She was an odd one, talking to me as she worked on me. Confiding in me all her deepest secrets, as if I was a friend, rather than a human jigsaw puzzle she had made.
Maybe she had been just talking at me, rather than to me. After all I was just a monster in the making. Maybe she did not realise I could remember my last life, all my last lives. I could remember the last life of Krum, who had been a leg for me that rotted as soon as it was joined and had to be replaced. That leg was gone but the memories from his life were still in my brain.
Now I was finished she was onto her next project. She had told me that raising a human from the dead would help in this project.
She was trying to summon a devil but not just any devil, the horned devil. They are the most powerful of the devils that can be created. There were myths about stronger ones on other worlds but here, on Clock, the horned devil was the most powerful.
The manor house was shaking. Had the silly cow forgotten to put down a summoning circle or had she just got it wrong? Even I knew that if you drew a summoning circle and if it had the tiniest of gaps the summoned devil could break free.
Not that they were summoned from other planes or anything like that. Summoning them was the final part of their creation. They were buried deep in the earth three days prior to summoning.
Dust dropped down from the ceiling. A rent cracked right through it, getting wider and wider until I could see the night sky. The whole mansion must be breaking up if I could see the sky.
The floor of the chamber seemed to buckle. A wall broke and part of it collapsed. The floor was separating like there was an earthquake ripping it apart. The long stout wooden table I was bound to snapped in the centre and my body fell to the floor with it.
Another ripple through the floor, a chunk of stone falling from the ceiling smashing the top of the table and narrowly missing my head. It broke one of the hasps and the strap to my right hand fell away. I now had a way of getting free . . . if the ‘tricity flowing through my body would stop. That held me in place as well as any manacles.
There was a loud shout, a tortured scream and then an explosion. All of a sudden there was no ‘tricity. The room around me was still collapsing. Now one of the straps of my feet had broken away too.
The straps were designed to buckle up to the hafts for ease of use when relacing limbs. This made it easy for me to undo the remaining hand and foot.
I was naked and saw that my body looked normal now, no stitching was showing. I looked just like everyone else, brown skinned without a sign of any wound on my body.
My body felt very powerful as I moved to the gap in the wall to escape. More powerful than any human body had a right to be.
I awoke, my body covered in sweat. Ava was no longer in my bed. I figured she had fucked and ran, which was fair play.
We were close, just not in a way most humans made out with their love life. There was no romance, no sentiment, just both wanting the best for the other and wanting to protect the other.
The first footman, Parker, came into my room. He put down the tray on a table and seeing I was awake, opened the curtains. Light flooded into the room.
I guessed I was never going to have the honour of the butler bringing me morning java.
On the tray was a small pot of java, a cup and saucer and a small loaf. Quite a tiny one. It was the first thing that poor people ate if they had the money. These loaves were four to a penny. Sometimes the lady of the house went to the bakers and got them all nice and hot, sometimes they were stored in the breadbin overnight.
Sometimes these were the only breakfast items a poor person had. Usually though they were eaten before breakfast with java to get the body going on a cold morning.
“Mr Ted stayed overnight as you suggested in the guest room in the large bed, master. We could not accommodate him in the servant’s quarters, his frame is too large and heavy.”
This was all said in a note of apology.
As he put the long wicker tray over me on the bed I noticed a few tiny pieces of meat and a folded napkin.
“Cook assumed the dog would like small breakfast too.”
He was then moving out of the room. He was good. He had the same talent of gliding through a room silently. He would make a good butler someday.
I was propped up against my pillows now and the hellhound jumped up on the bed, sniffing the air.
“I would hand feed you but I like my fingers. Also, if one of my fingers came off it would be like when I killed the maenads, you would get ‘tricity through your body.”
The hellhound sniffed and moved her snout to one side. I did not know what this action meant.
Her snout then turned back and she gave a little bark. I got this. I picked up the plate and offered it to her.
“Don’t you toast it. I will work out something for you, so you can roast your meat but later.” She gave a bark and then piece by piece ate the meat. Except for one piece. She looked at me and then at the meat and then at me.
“I don’t want your meat. See, I have a small loaf.” I bit into it. It was much better than small loaves in Whitechapter. This one had the taste of honey in it.
The hellhound looked at me and then at the meat. I thought I got it.
“Hound, if you are not gentle, I will starve you for a day.” I took the piece of meat in my fingers and offered it to her. She oh so gently took it from fingers and ate it.
It could have been part of the bonding ritual. I did not know. I just thought she wanted that, so I did it.
I wiped my fingers on the napkin and ate my bread. I then poured myself a cup of java and drunk it and then another. I was now fit for the day.
The footman came back in and evinced no shock at seeing the hellhound on the bed, even though I was sure he was surprised.
“Would you like me to draw you a bath, master?”
This was a very odd question. In Whitechapter we did not have baths or those new-fangled magic showers. There was a public bathhouse in that area that manual workers used when they came back plastered in dirt. Everyone else though just did not use such things.
We probably stank but, as everyone else did too, we barely noticed such things.
“This afternoon,” I said, putting it off. “I never bathe in the morning.” Which was true. I did never bathe in the morning, or the afternoon or the evening, come to that.
“Breakfast is served for those who are up,” the footman announced.
My valet then came in. Nice man, bit effeminate.
“Oooh! This master is a big strong one. But he is so naughty. He just throws his clothes all the floor.”
“You were not here last night,” I told him, eying him up and down.
“Every girl gets a night off once a fortnight.”
I heard a word once, gay it was. It was how some of the homosexuals of the planet described themselves. Straight people did not use this term. Nor did we persecute them. Straight, homo, molly, we all had a right to co-exist in our cities. Anyone who could not agree to this was usually coshed at some point by a Crusher. We had homosexual Crushers as well. Which was good.
The thing is, everyone has a choice of what they want to be.
“Ask the butler to make sure everyone gets at least a half day once a week, if not a whole day.”
“He would bite me.” I stared at him. “I will tell her you ordered it. She can be very nice but she is so strict.”
I think he was still talking about my vampire butler.
“Now that coat will have to be cleaned.”
“It cannot be cleaned. It is magic.”
“Huh, telling me my job. Of course, it is magic. And I am a valet. I know how to do these things. I can even repair them. Now for this morning, I think a nice light suit. Jacket and trousers, no waistcoat. No tie. My master is a bit of an animal, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Cut it out, Pearce,” came a voice from the doorway. It was the footman, maybe waiting to escort me down to breakfast.
“Yes, Mr Parker. Do you wear drawers, master?”
“Sometimes, as long as they are not too tight.”
He soon had me dressed, slapping away my hands when I tried to help. He insisted I wear shoes, not hob-nailed boots. I explained a new pair of shoes would pinch and I was in no mood for that.
“Master, you do get that with cheap merchandise but with the higher price items there is magical breaking-in. You put your foot it one and it will be like wearing a slipper or a shoe that you have worn for years.”
I tried it. The shoes did feel very comfortable.
“It is lucky you are so close to the size of the previous master. The bitey one,” he said and then pronounced me ready.
I went down to breakfast.
Ava was there. Ted the Crusher was there, looking embarrassed. My guess, he wanted to eat with the servants but Ava pushed him into eating with us.
Ava was wearing a stunning gown in a midnight blue material that seemed to shimmer as she moved, even slightly. It was low cut and very provocative. It stirred me just to look at her in that dress.
Ted the Crusher was wearing a blue frockcoat instead of his normal uniform, black knee britches and gaiters down to his hobnail boots.
Both wearing good clothes, from the wardrobes here? Surely not.
Maybe Ava’s dress but not Ted clothes. They must have been sorted out by the staff here, at my expense – or the vampire’s expense more likely.
I was shown to the head of the table.
“He would like Onyx eggs and peppers with sliced porcine,” Ava told them. It was true. That is what I wanted, but I had no idea how she knew.
A metal dog bowl was put at my side and filled with meat scraps.
A plate heaped with food was placed before me and I tucked in. Java was poured for me. No-one offered any of us cha.
The hellhound carefully toasted her meat and slobbering, ate all in the bowl.
Ava was shaking a newspaper at me. It was the Gazette, the upper-class newspaper.
“They printed my story. Read it.”
I placed it before me as I ate.
It was about a hero called the Crusader, a hero that hunted unnatural beasts. It was all about how he hunted the Whitechapter Vampire, killing every creature in his way. It detailed everything, Ava taking a lesser part. It was the story of what we had done together and stopped before we entered the castle proper.
“They have the other half for tomorrow’s paper. Now look at the STOP PRESS.”
The Crusader will take on hire work against unnatural creatures that are bothering humans. Even in the wilds. NOTE : This applies to serious creatures only. No goblins.
She looked a bit embarrassed.
“You said you would. If hire work came up, of a serious nature. Ted and I will join you if it is a hire job.”
The Hellhound barked and someone added more meat to her bowl. That though was not the point.
“And the vamps, if it is night-time work. If it is overnight and outside.” She looked a little nauseous. “So, we hunt by night and hide by day. Find shelter and guard in shifts.”
I thought about it and all looked on, right at me, even the servants.
“You carry the handgun,” I told Ava. “When the shotgun is finished, the long-range version of the handgun, Ted carries that. That is you two protected. The vampires have their own weapons, teeth and speed.”
“I am never without a weapon.”
Just like that, it was decided.
After breakfast I went down to the drawings room. I had a new project in mind. However, I found there the shotgun, all ready with a little satchel full of ammunition. I was not surprised. I should have been. I could not remember making it. Dreaming of constructing it, yes but not doing the work involved.
The fact was, though, it was ready.
I called the Crusher down and Ava too.
We went down into the workshop, where at one end Ted helped me fuse a sheet of iron onto the stone wall. I then painted on this the figure of a man, complete with head and even a hat.
“Stand at the other end of the room and aim and fire at the target. You may need to hold the gun in both hands.”
Ava fired single-handedly but despite her beautiful bulk, the kick from the gun nearly had her on the floor. The shot was wide.
“Try it in a swordsman posture,” I told her and put her in a stance where she was almost side-on, the thinnest target possible. I put both of her hands on the gun. It was large for either of our hands so two hands seemed perfect.
She fired and it went low. She adjusted and took the target in the chest. Pause, another in the chest. Pause, one over the top of the head.
“Always go for the body. Look at the dent in the iron sheet. One shot with that will disable or kill almost any opponent. It does not matter if they cannot be killed by such weapons. It could be the wound you need to incapacitate them. You are then in a position to finish them with another weapon.”
She held up her silver stake and I nodded. It seemed she always carried that now.
I got out the double-barrelled shotgun. The barrels arranged side by side. I gave this to Ted.
“Now, Ted.” Ava moved away and Ted now moved to the wall opposite the target, guided by me. “This is close range for such a weapon. Nearly impossible to miss. Go for the chest and see the damage you do.”
I arranged his posture too, making sure the butt end of the gun was tucked into his shoulder, to ease the kick and steady the shot.
He fired and the target’s chest was peppered with dents.
“That will rip someone’s chest to bits at close range and severely wound them or kill them even at longer range.”
“That is one hell of a weapon. I mean I have your sparking cosh on my duties and that has a heck of a wallop but these two things are . . . not of this world.”
They practiced until the iron was just a mass of dents that was stitched together with holes.
Both now seemed more confident, more assured they could face beasts, maybe even go into the wilderness, if they had to.
Ava and Ted left and I went back to the project I had come down to do. First, I made a perfectly circular little metal frame just about an inch and a half in size.
“What are you making this time?”
It was Dracovitch the vampire.
“It is daytime,” I pointed out.
“I am ancient. I need only a few hours’ sleep a night and to feed about once a week. I am not coffin bound. The younger vampires like that sort of thing but I have outgrown them.”
He put the plans of a shotgun down for me to see. It was the design from a couple of hundred years ago by Marthello the Mechanik. It was different to mine. The loading system was very odd. It looked like you pumped a component and that pushed a cartridge into the breech ready to be fired. It could take six of these cartridges that were preloaded into the shogun.
It was unfinished because the cartridges would have to be perfectly cylindrical, round and smooth, similar to the bullets for my gun but hollow to take the round shot. Also, there was a note that the pump action had a problem with jamming and rounds getting stuck in the chamber.
The jamming I could solve, rounds getting stuck I could solve. Designing cartridges for this gun though would take a lot of skill. I would have to think about that. Maybe sleep on it.
“These plans are marvellous. A truly excellent piece of work. I knew Marthello was supposed to be good but not this good. He would have changed the cities if he had solved the problems with this design.”
“Marthello was a mechanik,” Dracovitch replied. “If he managed to get this gun to work everyone would have one. There would have been mass killings, maybe even war. There has never been war in the cities, not even battles between them. It is better that this is for the knowledge of one, than for the use of many.”
I did see his point. I did not think that the good people of the cities should ever be trusted with guns.
“I promised you a reward if you bought these to me. What do you wish?”
“It is simple: look after Dickens the butler. He is like a son to me. He is of my blood. He is not very old. He was born before the others vampires were made. When the cities were designed for humans, I went to one called Cam, about a hundred miles east of here. The cities were about fifty years old when I came. Before that I lived happily in the wilds, sometimes with the punkawathas. I arrived in Cam with the finances that the punks had given me. They did not really understand the ideas of commerce and money. The ideas are foreign to them. So, I had a sack of rubies and another sack of silver bars. Suddenly I was rich, incredibly rich. The wealthiest man in the city. The humans desired the rubies. They used them to trade with other cities or kept them as a sign of their own wealth.
“Some men did try to take my wealth away from me. I killed those, sometimes feeding off of them. The Crushers thought me killing anyone trying to take my wealth was fair. They gave me no troubles, after a suitable annual bribe of course. So, I had a great house and lots of servants. Much bigger than this. About two hundred and fifty years ago I had a butler called Dickens. He developed canker of the lungs. I was living in The Smoke then.”
Canker was a terrible disease that affected many of us. Canker of the lungs was common with many of The Smoke dwellers at some point in their lives. What with the smoke and grime and fog and dirt in The Smoke, add to that the chill of the city and many died from canker. You could get canker in almost any part of your body but the lungs were the most usual.
“He begged for me to turn him into one of my own. He swore he would serve me eternally if I did this. I was hesitant. I had never made another. For this man though, I did. Of course, the canker vanished when he was turned. He has kept his vow. He has been my butler ever since, never asking for more. Always refusing a raising of his station. He is my son, my blood. He could be great man, a rich man but he gave his word and he will not go back on it.”
He stood and stared at me as if he was lost for a second with what to say.
“Dickens is still coffin-bound as a lot of the young vampires are. They are scared of the light. It is ridiculous really. Dickens could walk in the light if he so wished. He is not a true vampire, he is a halfblood. Myself, I rarely use a coffin. Any dark room is good for me. This room for instance has no windows so I can walk freely in it, day or night. I can even be in a room with open curtains in the day, though I would not be able to sleep there. As long as the light does not hit me, it affects me not. Such a room would petrify other vampires. They would consider themselves at great risk. They hide in their coffins from dawn to dusk, missing out on life.”
I listened. Always take advice from the wisest and this was the oldest vampire in existence. Actually, always take advice from a number of people before forming your answer, balancing up all they have told you. However, others could not tell me so much about vampires as this man.
“Last night, I saw you go down to the drawings room. Your hound did not accompany you. You then drew the designs you would need for your shotgun. You did that in less than an hour. I have watched mechaniks take days over such a detailed drawing. After that, you worked in the basement, every minute counting. Not getting anything wrong. You then just left the room. No testing, no burst of joy, you just left the room. I was in a corner, just watching.”
What could I say to that?
“You maybe have heard that people walk in their sleep,” I ventured as a reason.
“Somnambulism. Yes, I have heard of such things.”
“Sometimes I work in my sleep. If there is an idea bursting to get out, I do the work needed and dream about it. All the work is done when I am asleep.”
“Remarkable, truly remarkable. When you took the tip of your finger off, I was quite shocked. It is not what you expect of a human. You will always be safe from me, however ravenous I become. I think your blood would kill me.”
“I am different. It is why you could not bewitch me at the Creator’s house.”
He contemplated this thought then asked.
“What are you going to create today?”
“They have already been invented, for people who need them to read and for people who need them to see further.”
“Mine will be a monocle used in hunting beasties. Not one you can get from a lens shop.”
“But you will use one of their lenses and improve upon that.”
“No, the magic will go into the lens as I cast it into liquid glass.”
I took down a large open bowl and filled it full of sand, to that I added water and beer.
“Those are not the ingredients . . .”
“Do you wish to be elsewhere?” I asked gently. I could not be offensive. I had this house so he could watch me invent.
I mixed them up into a murky mess.
“Now further ingredients, magic of course and . . . monster’s blood . . . also maybe the eye of a hawk.”
“Hawks are used to kill rats on the streets of this very borough. Some of the others too.”
A footman came in, whether summoned or by chance I did not know. It was not the first footman Parker, so I did not know his name.
“Go out and buy a hawk, alive or dead but fresh. It is for your master’s work. He need’s hawk’s eyes.”
The servant’s eyes glazed over for a second.
“Yes, sir. I know where to get one.” And he left.
“Now, monster blood, the easiest would be a goblin. It is not strong but it will do.”
“Does how powerful the monster affect how powerful the item will be?”
“And you wish to go out to get such a monster?” I nodded and he gave a huge long sigh. “Idiot!”
I could see no reason for insults. I looked down at my hellhound. Did she think I should be insulted?
She however was gnawing at her flesh, already there were drops of blood and bits of flesh dropping to the stone floor. The vampire already had a bowl, not a ceramic bowl but a tin measuring one. He was then beside my hellhound collecting the blood dripping from her ever largening wound.
I was an idiot. I had one of the most powerful monsters with me. She had powers that other creatures could only look upon and envy.
When the bowl was half full the vampire bought it to me. The hellhound flamed her wound shut, healing it.
I took the tip of my finger off and fired sparks into the bowl of mixture and then poured some of the blood in, very slowly. I was still sparking the mixture as I did this. The colour changed to white and I stopped pouring and replaced the tip of my finger.
I bowed to my hellhound and it barked at me happily.
The footman came back after five minutes.
He had a packet with him.
“I was not sure how many you needed so I paid for twenty,” he told us.
“To the apothecary shop. He has fresh eyes of lots of creatures floating in jars. Did I do wrong?”
“Now I am an idiot. Of course, the apothecary shop,” Dracovitch admitted.
“I don’t know your name?” I asked of the footman.
“I am Jenson, master, second footman.”
“Take a pound out of the household money and have the day off. That was excellent thinking.”
He rushed off, pleased as a vampire finding a virgin. A pound would be a lot of money to him, maybe two weeks wages, maybe more than two weeks as he got room and board here.
I gently unfolded the packet. The eyes were still wet and still had their stalks attached. I went to a bench and carefully removed the stalks. I then punctured ten eyes and dropped them in the mixture. The other ten went in whole. No effect, yet.
I then, with the vampire watching, made a magic box out of pieces of clockwork and metal, adding the flywheel in last. I span the flywheel and closed the box and put it carefully in the liquid.
“I will be able to use that box again and again,” I informed Dracovitch. “It is a clockwork magic infuser.”
When the liquid went clear I took the box out. I then frothed the liquid up with the steam blower. Heating it and heating it until it steamed red.
With leather gloves I then poured the liquid into a mould. Lens moulds were common amongst inventors. Lenses could be used for all sorts of things.
When the lens was set the vampire asked a question.
“You are not throwing that glass away, are you? You could make a lot of similar articles out of that.”
I just smiled. Dracovitch wanted to know about magic and inventions and it was my job to school him in the higher aspects of those things.
“That is the major difference between a mechanik and an inventor. Mechaniks make things for everyone to use. An inventor designs things for his or her own use,” I explained to Dracovitch. “If the use is one that could benefit a lot of others, the inventor may sell his plans to a mechanik. The mechanik usually takes all the credit for the work, saying he invented it. Lying is what it is – but the inventor did sell the plans. Like with the jug-box and the tram buffers. Nox sold both of those ideas.”
“So, there will only be one monocle like that,” he asked, wanting to be impressed.
“Probably, but I will keep the base liquid when it has cooled. It might work for other inventions. A lot of inventions lead from one to another to another. Like the handgun led to the shotgun. That might lead to Marthello the Mechanik’s shotgun or something similar.”
Before I put the lens into the frame, I soldered a tiny loop onto the frame for the monocle string to go through.
I then gently inserted the lens. It snapped into place and when pushed would not budge. I then used a thin black cord as the monocle string and put it to my eye. I examined the floor.
“I thought so. You have a hidden door going to one story below this room. What were these two basements before you converted them to my drawings room and workshop? Day rooms with comfortable chairs and tables? Bedrooms? All carefully converted for vampire living spaces.”
“How can you see that door in the floor? That is no hidden door. It is magically hidden. Nothing can see that, unless you know where it is.”
“The magic of this monocle means I see magic doors and hidden doors, trap doors. Anything hidden to the normal eye can be seen through this monocle. That, I now know works. Also, with this it will be able to sight monsters in the distance. It will show the nearest monster. If it is over a mile away it will appear fuzzy. If it is within that distance, it will become enhanced so I can see it as clearly as I can see you. It will give me a chance to examine monsters before I engage them in contact.”
“All that from a monocle, it hardly . . .”
The footman, Parker, was standing in the doorway.
“Master, you have a message.”
On a silver salver was a letter.
I took the missive. It was addressed to Captain Crusader. I did not think I was a captain but I was sure it was addressed to me, so turned it over and looked at the seal.
“That is the crest of Lord Haven, master.”
Lords and Ladies? Each city was governed by a magistrate. He was all-powerful in that city. He had no special title like Lord or King. He had no name, he was just the Magistrate. To help him govern he assigned tasks to others. If they accepted the task, they became a Lord or Lady. They got no financial reward for this, no houses or palaces just the title. Nevertheless, such titles were sought after.
Each task would go on for years and the Lords took a little profit from the job for their own. Usually a penny in a shilling. The greedy ones took two. A shilling being twelve pennies, this was accepted. Any more than that was corruption and if the Magistrate found out they were exiled. Not put on a train to another city but grabbed by a Crusher and thrown out into the wilderness where the city bordered the wilds. They went with only the clothes they stood up in. No weapons and no money, not even food.
Nevertheless, most Lords lived lives of luxury in houses bigger than my own new house.
I was going to break the seal when Parker took the letter from me and slid a thin knife around the seal, just barely cutting the paper of the missive. The letter unfurled, the seal with the crest on intact.
You are hereby ordered to this place at dusk this day.
By command of the Lord Haven of The Smoke
After that just a scrawled signature.
“That’s not very polite,” was my comment to the vampire.
“These people rarely are. They think they have authority but rarely have. To enforce such an order, they would have to ask the Magistrate. They could bribe a Crusher to fetch you but that is about their range.”
“I do not like being ordered to do things. That is the Creator’s way.”
“Orders are normal. A master gives a servant orders and the servant does the task allotted to him. That is the way of all societies. You are part of that now, you now give orders.” I think the vampire was trying to be consoling. Showing me I could be part of something more, be a true member of society. Trouble is, I liked being a lone warrior.
“Ah but no-one has paid me yet. I think I will go now and not at dusk. Unless he is a vampire it will make no difference.” I grinned.
“It will to him. He will be most affronted.” The vampire was smiling too.
I walked upstairs and washed my hands. I went to Ava and asked for my handgun, holster and belt.
She asked for an explanation and then she told me she was coming with me. She did look the part, a pretty maid in a wonderful dress that stretched the bodice showing a great deal of cleavage as was the fashion.
She ran off and came back in deep blue slippers to match the dark coloured dress and wore a white floppy hat with a yellow lace band around it.
She gave me the handgun and I strapped it to my waist.
My valet was running down the stairs with a box.
“Master, you can’t go visiting lords like that.” He opened the box and there was a grey top hat to match the suit. He also handed me a silver topped cane. Similar to the one I had already, that was at my old place.
“Perfect for day time wear,” he told me and he pinched my cheeks. This was a bit rude of a servant but I knew he meant well.
I asked where Ted was but he was out on his rounds. The shotgun, thankfully, was not.
The boot-boy was rustled up and he led us to the correct address and then ran back. He would be chastised if he was too long about his duties.
I knocked on the door with about as much subtlety as throwing a brick at a window.
A butler answered the door. Tall, thin, reedy, middle aged.
“Be off with you. If you are selling something, you should know to call at the rear of the premises.”
I showed him the letter. He appeared confused. He looked out. It was not dusk
“Oi! I might look like a gentlewoman but unless you show us in quick, I will do something most unladylike.” When Ava was moody, she was one formidable woman.
“If you will follow me this way,” he uttered and showed us to a small room. “I will fetch the master of the house.”
A man came in a few minutes later, the butler attending him. The man was small, dressed in a linen suit and had a small thin coronet on his head. A simple gold affair with a single sapphire at the front. It did nothing to cover his balding head.
“You are this adventurer type, are you?” he drawled in a posh accent.
“That’s me!” I grinned at him and he shied away. He sat down and lifted his legs and a stool was put under them by the butler.
“Listen, tell me the job and the price and I shall tell you whether or not I will do it.”
“This man is impertinent. Strike him, Perkins.”
Ava and I were sitting but now I stood . . . and stared at Perkins.
“I do not think the gentleman wants to be struck, my lord,” the butler said apologetically and in some fear by the looks of him.
“How rude of him. Doesn’t he know I am a lord?”
“I do not think he cares, my lord.”
“Summon a Crusher to do him injury, Perkins. We cannot have this systematic overthrow of society thrust upon us.”
“I kill Crushers and rob them,” I informed them. “Let me show you this.”
I pulled out the handgun.
I aimed for a vase on the mantelpiece that had cut flowers in it. The vase exploded as did a chunk of the wall. The hole in the wall was a large one that showed through to the hall.
The loudness of the gun had shocked even me. It must have been because it was in this little room.
“I kill Crushers and rob them,” I repeated.
“I believe you,” His Lordship said, his hands over his ears. The butler too had his hands over his ears. Strangely him being a servant somehow made him look more foolish. It had taken away his butler ridden pomposity
“Ahem. Maybe you should tell the . . . gentleman your proposal milord,” Perkins, the butler, said finally, after taking his hands from his ears and shaking his head violently, maybe to try and get his full hearing back.
“Ah, yes. The um . . . job is kill the Hunger Demon.”
“Where is the Hunger Demon?” Ava asked. I could pick up her apprehension already. I knew what she was asking about without her words speaking plain.
“There is a town about fifty miles away. It is quite close to the railway line. Actually, it is more of a village with a ford just outside it. By the ford is a hut in which a demon lives. The village of Hunger needs to be able to use that ford when its men go out hunting. The Hunger-ford Demon stops them doing this.”
“So, a village is fucked. What does that matter to a city?” I did not grasp any significance to this. The villagers were outsiders, not a matter for the cities or the Magistrate or the lords.
“The city trades with the village.”
I had never heard of such a thing in my life. There was no communication between the cities and outsiders. Veterans were little more than barbarians. They did not even know how to use magic. Not invent it, they could not even use it. They had no magical devices, everything was done by hand.
“What’s the pay for this job, killing this demon?” I asked, as you would.
“Pay? There is no recompense. It is an order from a Lord of the City.” The self-important little man told us.
“He is bending over the Magistrate and fucking him.” Ava said.
“What?” I asked, trying for once to sound gentle.
“He receives money for doing certain tasks. That money is supposed to paid out to others. He creams off a little, as all lords do. This one though is taking the lot. There will be a price for this job but he is not paying it.” Ava explained in more detail.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I will ask Ted the Crusher. He will know. If he does not, he will ask someone from the Magistrate’s office.”
“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” The man’s posh accent had faded away to the broad accent of Hex.
“But we must.” Insisted Ava, a conciliatory tone in her voice. “If we do not and you get caught, we might be exiled too. Thrown out of the city into the wilderness in just the clothes we are wearing and nothing else.”
“I will pay a hundred pounds.” Even the butler stared at his master when such a large sum was mentioned.
I said nothing. I just stared at the man.
“Two hundred.” He quickly added and I nodded acceptance.
“Tell me about the demon. There are many types. If I do not know enough, your money will be safe as I will be dead. Unfortunately, there are few like me that could hunt a demon. Tipsy might . . .”
“If you are talking about Persimmon the Hunter who I believe has that sobriquet, he died fighting a mummy in Czar,” the butler informed us.
“We do have a report for you,” the little man told us. The butler went to a table and picked up a slim document, papers held together by string. “From what the report says it is a Long-Tailed Demon.”
“Oh shit. I was going to go after a striped devil. This is twice as strong.”
“And in the wilderness too,” Ava added.
“You agreed a contract,” the lord said smugly.
