It was a knocking upon his window that aroused Elliot from his sleep. He sat up and peered into the darkness to see two shining lenses pressed against the glass. “He’s there,” a voice whispered as movement and murmurs spun off into the darkness.
Slipping the catch, Elliot tugged his window open and ushered the group inside. One. Two. Three. Four. Five! Five young figures swung into the candlelit room, the grime upon their faces masking them better than a shadow ever could. “I thought you promised we would not be meeting up in my house,” Elliot growled, nudging the one who had knocked. The young man pulled up his goggles to reveal the handsome features of one Robert Seacole. He whipped sweat from his crown and glanced at the others who accompanied him, a signal that their own goggles and masks could be removed. “Junk larks?” Elliot asked, nodding at the others. He recognised the youngest as Robert’s younger sister and the tallest as the slender Grace, a young woman who seemed to have been Robert’s friend since birth. “Yeah. Those two aren’t Lavers though,” Robert agreed with a nod towards the final two. Both were boys and held such similar features that Elliot would have bet his bottom dollar they were twins – that was, of course, if he did not already owe Robert that after another such bet. “Where are the rest of the gang then?” Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. It was no secret that the Laver Street Gang was the name gifted to Robert and his frequent contacts. They served as the local junk larks – scurrying about the piles of abandoned machinery outside of factories for what they could sell on the markets. It was with a reluctance that Robert admitted that he was not sure. He sent a glance towards Grace and a nod towards his sister with a silent order for the two to disappear but Grace shook her head. “You find something to tinker with,” Robert instructed as he knelt before his sister. She offered her silent agreement and hurried about the room as silent as a shadow, collecting up the devices Elliot had been given to repair. He did not consider himself an official member of the Laver Gang, nor did he wish to be. But he did dabble in their work, taking the devices that needed a little treatment and fixing them up for a cut of the money made. “There was something out there,” Robert murmured. “The peelers?” Elliot inquired, trying to stay calm. “He said something.” Grace’s voice, something Elliot could not normally describe with any word except gentle, was grave and hard. He studied her for a moment but she glanced away, setting about smudging her lenses on the grubby corner of her shirt. “Something?” Elliot repeated, the question in his voice. Robert shrugged and glanced towards the two boys with him. “What did you see?” he asked. The boys spoke together, their words crossing over and meshing into a sentence that admitted they had never seen anything like it before. “A man,” one said. “With claws,” the other added. “And a beak.” “And empty eyes.” “And he smelt of death.” Robert raised a hand to stop them and, dead faced, asked them why they would say that. “He smelt of rotting,” Grace intervened. “Like a body we found.” Robert shook his head and turned to Elliot, asking if they could stay there until the others found them. Elliot gave the smallest of nods and watched as Robert pulled a penknife from his pocket. He struck Elliot’s candle with the blade, creating a notch. “If no one reaches us by the time it has burnt down to there, we will go searching,” Robert announced.
