Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Curse

‘I’m looking for someone,’ I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

Before I could say anything else, she opened her lips wide as if to speak, revealing two rows of teeth, some broken, others black with decay. Instead of words,, loud wild laughter erupted from her throat and she immediately set off an uproar from the others around her. These people had been tortured and had spent days or even weeks under the threat of death. It was no good appealing to reason or asking for calm. Fingers jabbed at me and a big, gangling man with long limbs and wild eyes grabbed my left hand hard and began to pump it up and down in gratitude.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’ he cried, and his grip became so tight that I thought he would crunch my bones.

I managed to snatch my hand free, picked up the staff and retreated a few steps. Any moment now the guards would hear the commotion and come out into the corridor to investigate. What if the Spook and Alice weren’t in that cell? What if they were being held somewhere else?

It was too late now because, pushed roughly from behind, I was already retreating past the guardroom, and a few seconds more brought me to the door of the wine cellar. I glanced back and saw a line of people following me. At least nobody was shouting now but there was still too much noise for my liking. I just hoped that the guards had been drinking heavily. They’d probably be used to noise from the prisoners; they wouldn’t be expecting a breakout.

Once inside the wine cellar, I climbed up onto a barrel and balanced there, while I quickly pushed the hatch upwards. Through the open hatch I glimpsed a stone buttress of the cathedral’s outer wall and there was a rush of cool air and dampness on my face. It was raining hard.

Other people were clambering up onto the barrels.

The man who’d thanked me elbowed me aside roughly and started to pull himself up through the hatch. Moments later he was out, holding a hand down towards me, offering to pull me up.

‘Come on!’ he hissed.

I hesitated. I wanted to see if the Spook and Alice had got out of the cell. Then it was too late because a woman had clambered up onto the barrel beside me and was raising her arms towards the man who, without a moment’s hesitation, gripped her wrists and pulled her up through the open hatch.

After that I’d missed my chance. There were others, some almost fighting amongst themselves in their desperation to get out. Not everyone was like that though. Another man pushed a barrel onto its side and rolled it against the upright one to form a step that made it easier to climb. He helped an old woman up and steadied her legs while the man above gripped her wrists and drew her slowly upwards.

Prisoners were getting out through the hatch, but others were still coming through the door into the wine cellar and I kept glancing towards them, hoping that one would be the Spook or Alice.

A thought suddenly struck me. What if one of them was too ill or weak to move and hadn’t been able to leave the cell?

I had no choice. I had to go back and see. I jumped down from the barrel, but it was too late: a shout, then angry voices. Boots thundering along the corridor. A big burly guard pushed into the cellar brandishing a cudgel. He looked around and, with a bellow of anger, rushed directly towards me.

Girl Spit Without a second’s hesitation I grabbed the staff and blew out the candle, plunging the cellar into darkness, and moved quickly in the direction of the door that led down into the catacombs.

There was a terrible commotion behind: shouts, screams and the sounds of a struggle. Glancing back, I saw another of the guards carrying a torch into the cellar, so I slipped behind the wine racks, keeping them between me and the light as I headed for the door in the far wall.

I felt terrible leaving the Spook and Alice behind. To have come this far and still be unable to rescue them left me feeling wretched. I only hoped that somehow in the confusion they’d managed to get out. They could both see well in the dark and if I could manage to find the door to the catacombs, so could they. I sensed some of the prisoners moving with me, away from the guards into the dark recesses of the cellar. A few seemed to be in front of me. Perhaps amongst them were my master and Alice but I couldn’t risk calling out and alerting the guards. As I picked my way through the wine racks, ahead of me I thought I saw the door to the catacombs open and close quickly but it was too dark to be sure.

A few moments later and I was through the door. The instant I closed it behind me I was plunged into a darkness so intense that, for a few seconds, I couldn’t see my hand before my face. I stood there at the top of the steps, waiting desperately for my eyes to adjust.

As soon as I could make out the steps, I went down carefully and moved along the tunnel as quickly as I could, aware that, eventually, someone would probably check the door: I hadn’t locked it behind me just in case Alice or the Spook were close behind.

I’m usually good at seeing in the dark but in those catacombs it seemed to be getting darker and darker so I came to a halt and tugged the tinderbox out of my jacket pocket. I knelt down and shook a small pile of tinder out onto the stones. Quickly I used the stone and metal to create a spark and a few seconds later I’d managed to light my candle.

With candlelight to guide me I made better progress but the air around me grew colder with every step, and not far ahead I could see sinister flickerings on the wall. Again, white luminous shapes were moving in and out of the shadows but there were now far more than last time. The dead were gathering. My previous walk along the tunnels had disturbed them.

I stopped. What was that? Somewhere in the distance I’d heard the howl of a dog. I came to a halt, my heart pounding. Was it a real dog or could it be the Bane? Andrew had mentioned a huge black dog with ferocious teeth. A huge dog that was really the Bane. I tried to tell myself it was a real dog I was hearing, one that had somehow found its way down into the catacombs. After all, if a cat could do it, why not a dog?

The howl came again, and it hung in the air for a long time, echoing and reverberating down the long tunnels. Was it ahead of me or behind? In this tunnel or another one? It was impossible to say. But with the Quisitor and his men behind me I had no choice but to keep moving towards the gate.

So I walked quickly, shivering with cold, skirting the pressed cat, till I reached the point where the forked tunnels merged. At last I rounded a corner and saw the Silver Gate. There I halted, my knees beginning to shake, my mind afraid to go on. For ahead, in the darkness beyond the candle flame, someone was waiting for me. A shadowy figure was sitting on the floor near the gate, its back against the wall, its head bowed forward. Could it be an escaped prisoner? Someone who’d got through the door before me?

I couldn’t go back, so I took a few steps towards the gate and held the candle higher. A bearded face turned to me.

‘What kept you?’ called out a voice I recognized. ‘I’ve been waiting here five minutes already!’

It was the Spook, alive and well! I rushed forward, filled with relief that he’d managed to escape. There was an ugly bruise over his left eye and his mouth was swollen. He’d clearly been beaten.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Aye, lad. Give me a few more moments to get my breath back and I’ll be right as rain. Just get that gate open and we’ll soon be on our way.’

‘Was Alice with you?’ I asked. Were you in the same cell?’

‘No, lad. Best forget all about her. She’s no good. Nowt but trouble and there’s nothing we can do to help her now.’ His voice sounded cruel and hard. ‘She deserves what’s coming to her.’