Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

Quaint and Destine were brought back from the brink of death, but not as they once were. A bizarre chemical reaction occurred within their bodies. The antidote triggered the elixir's original life-enhancing design, and from that moment Quaint and Madame Destine would never age, never suffer disease, and their life expectancy was immeasurable.

Whilst Destine was full of wonder and awe about what had been bestowed upon them, Cornelius Quaint's mind was racked with doubt – even though the telltale signs had been plain to see. As his body accepted the chemical change within him, a gunshot wound to the shoulder miraculously healed within hours. Gashes, grazes, cuts and bruises disappeared completely, and old muscles and limbs discovered new vigour. But there was a downside, Quaint's once brown-grey hair had been bleached an embarrassingly premature silver-white.

Still not subscribing to the notion of immortality, Quaint took his newfound lease of life as a sign that he must bear the burden of defeating the Hades Consortium for ever more. But although he would not admit it (least of all to himself) even he had his limits. He had faced danger, duplicity and discord countless times in his life, but succeeding in such a daunting task would be far greater than any miracle he had ever performed onstage as a conjuror.

'Well?' asked Prometheus, snapping the conjuror from his thoughts. 'What's goin' on in that muddle of a mind of yers right now, Cornelius?'

'Once I unravel it myself, I'll let you know,' Quaint said numbly. 'But what I do know is how this plot to poison the Nile will end if left unchecked…and that is a nightmare that I dare not entertain. Now, thanks to Ferret, I know where Renard sent that poison.'

'Yeah, so that'll be an end to it. Maybe ye don't have to go to Egypt at all then, eh? We can just go and see this Al Fekesh bloke and rough him up a bit, make sure he hands over the poison and we're done!' grinned Prometheus, relishing the prospect of getting his hands dirty. 'Nothin' to worry about, right?'

From the expression on the conjuror's face, there was everything to worry about.

'I wish it were that simple, Prometheus,' replied Quaint, grinding his teeth. 'Al Fekesh isn't a bloke – it's a place! Al Fekesh is a port just outside Cairo, a haven for smugglers, thieves and scoundrels of all varieties. If the poison is headed to Al Fekesh, the sand is already spilling from the hourglass, my friend…and Egypt doesn't have much time left.'

The Two Birds and the Stone

AHANDFUL OF MILES from Cornelius Quaint's position, standing outside a ramshackle old tavern on the outskirts of Wapping, a stunted figure hugged the shadows of the terraced street. More of rodent descent than human, his glassy eyes twitched this way and that in search of something (or someone) in particular. He pulled a fob watch from the inside pocket of his overcoat and cursed under his breath. Behind him, the nearby Thames lapped against the docks, and the gentle tolling of bells on the waterfront drifted in the air. The night was in full pitch. Midnight had long since passed, and all the warehouses along the docks were settled under a blanket of quiet, the perfect atmosphere for subterfuge. Like a changing of the guard, when those who walked in daylight retired to their homes, those who dwelt in twilight embraced the comfort of shadows. Hearing a stifled wheeze nearby, the man embraced the shadows that much deeper, and soon an ungainly red-haired fellow limped along the silent street towards him.

'You are late, Herr Ferris,' he said, speaking raw English laden with an unmistakable Germanic twang as he stepped into the wan light of a lantern affixed above the tavern's entrance. His face was unimpressive, neither particularly handsome nor memorably ugly. Heinrich Nadir was as unobtrusive a fellow as any man could be. The sort that you would walk past in the street without giving him a second thought – exactly how he preferred it.

Ferret's bloodied face lit up, and he limped his way over to the man's side. 'Evenin', Mr Nadir. Sorry I'm late. I had a bit of bother, courtesy of one Cornelius flippin' Quaint,' he said, as he picked a clot of dried blood from his nose and wiped it upon his lapel.

'You will be suitably recompensed for your inconvenience, Herr Ferris. So, tell me: did Quaint take the bait?' asked Nadir.

'Good and proper! I did me old "I don't know nuffin'" routine, and then told him that name you said. You should've seen his eyes light up!' Ferret sniggered, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 'I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out what's comin'. But I've gotta say, mate…your lot are taking an awful risk, aren't they? Lettin' him get so close? Why not just do 'im in now before he can cause any more trouble?'

'Because I have my orders, Herr Ferris, that is why,' Heinrich Nadir replied, his leather gloves squeaking as he clasped his gloved hands together. 'My employer has had previous business with Cornelius Quaint. He knows the man is tenacious, and notoriously hard to kill, and he wishes him to be dealt with quietly. That is why I have been assigned to follow Herr Quaint's every move. When his vessel departs for Cairo tomorrow, she shall also have me as a passenger. Thanks to my colleague Renard, I will be transporting the consignment of poison to Egypt personally…but whereas the toxin will arrive safely, Herr Quaint will not.'

'So your lot get your poison, and Cornelius Quaint gets thrown into the bargain, eh? Talk about killin' two birds with one stone!' laughed Ferret.

Nadir smeared a grin over his thin mouth. 'Actually, Herr Ferris, the Hades Consortium prefers to set a cat amongst the birds…and let them kill each other.'

The Parting Shot

BY THE TIME Cornelius Quaint and Prometheus returned to Grosvenor Park station, the party atmosphere had long since ceased. All that was left on the platform were some discarded banners and streamers – as well as Jeremiah, surrounded by empty bottles, snoring like a hibernating grizzly bear. The conjuror and the strongman retired to their bunks, with Quaint contemplating where the night's discovery had taken him, and how much further he would need to go before he saw its end.

The following morning, Quaint and Madame Destine were up before the lark, and were packing to be ready for the long voyage. Butterflies swarmed in Destine's stomach, and unremitting tears stained her soft cheeks as she said goodbye to her friends, flittering from one cabin to the next. Quaint was his usual insular self. The woes of his mind had yet to lift from the previous night's foray into London's backstreets.

Out on the station platform, the company of circus folk lined up alongside the steam train. Quaint spoke to them each of them in turn, striding down the line with his hands linked behind his back like a sergeant major inspecting his troops. He shared a wink with Jeremiah, a tug of Peregrine's beard and a warm smile with Yin and Yang. Quicker than he anticipated, he came to the final three performers in the line – the three he had dreaded bidding farewell to the most: Butter, Prometheus and Ruby. He spoke to them all at once, spreading his gaze between them, never letting his eyes linger long before switching to another, keeping one step ahead of his emotions.

'Well…this is it,' he said, tilting on the balls of his feet. 'Butter…I leave our family in your very capable hands. They can be a rowdy bunch, but I have no doubt that they will continue to function as exemplarily for you as they do for me.' Quaint cupped a hand to Butter's ear. 'If the clowns get out of hand, just threaten to set Rajah on them – that's what I do.' Butter sniggered into his hands as Quaint turned to Ruby. 'My dear child, it is with my sincerest apologies that I was forced to miss the send-off that you so thoughtfully organised on my behalf last night. An urgent situation arose that commanded my full attention, but know that if there were any way that I could have avoided it, I most certainly would have. You are a very special young woman, my dear. You make me, and your old mentor Viktor, most proud.' He leaned closer and pecked the knife thrower on the cheek, sending a crimson flush to Ruby's cheeks. Quaint took a deep breath as he gripped Prometheus's great hand. 'And as for you, my friend…it'll take some getting used to, you know, turning around expecting you to be watching my back and yet finding you absent. Fear not, though, the Madame has offered to step in and be my brawn should the need arise…of which there is a high probability, it must be said.' Quaint took a step back, raising his voice to address the entire troupe. 'Madame Destine and I will only be away for a couple of months at the most. In that time, I expect each and every one of you to pull together like the family you are, and continue to do what you do best – namely, put on the best damn circus that this country has ever seen, bar none!' Quaint lowered his head. 'You may disperse to your duties.'