Titus’s palm. ‘I’m keeping some back,’ he said. ‘We need to eat as well as drink, you know.’
Titus grunted, pocketed the money and barged out of the wagon.
‘The man’s a nightmare,’ Bramley murmured.
‘Is he always like that?’ Hazel asked.
‘Not
always
,’ David replied.
‘When will he be back? We need to get moving.’
‘He’ll be back as soon as he’s found something to drink,’ David said with a sad smile. He lifted the lid from the stew pot, releasing a rich smell of spiced meat.
‘Would you like something to eat?’
Hazel’s stomach rumbled despite her anxiety. Her meagre meal in the forest seemed a long time ago. ‘Yes, please.’
David ladled stew into two bowls. ‘I’m afraid we can only afford umbles. We’ve been living on the ragged edge of poverty for too long now. Meals are included in your fee, by
the way.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking a spoonful. ‘It’s pretty good.’ They ate in companionable silence. Hazel glanced at David and noticed that he was trying, without much
success, to grow a moustache. She smiled as Samson clambered to his feet and laid his huge slobbery head on her lap.
‘Urgh! What a dreadful beast,’ Bramley whimpered, burrowing deeper into her hair.
Hazel nodded towards a metal contraption propped up on the workbench. It looked like a large soup bowl with delicate brass levers sticking out from the sides. ‘What’s
that?’
David picked it up and set it carefully on his lap. It looked heavy. ‘It’s one of the boss’s inventions. He used to make things like this all the time back in the
day.’
‘What does it do?’ asked Hazel.
David grinned. ‘It’s a demon trap. We call it the Grinder.’
Hazel looked at the contraption with renewed interest. ‘Will we use it to catch the demon that took my mother?’
‘It depends. The Grinder can only snare lesser demons –
daemon-minimus
to give them their Latin name. Boggarts, goblins and suchlike. As for bigger demons –
Bladecatchers, Gullahtooths – well, they’re another matter entirely.’
‘Oh,’ Hazel said, not really understanding what he was talking about.
‘Let me show you how it works.’ He pointed to the levers. ‘Every type of demon is unique, so the trap needs to be set correctly for the specific demon you want to catch. You
tell the Grinder about the demon – weight, height and disposition – by pressing these levers.’
Hazel leaned closer and saw that the levers were inscribed with words like ‘Fat’, ‘Muscular’, ‘Scaly’, ‘Angry’ and ‘Murderous’.
‘Now,’ David said, ‘when the information is collated we press the “Set Trap” lever.’
‘And then?’
‘The Grinder releases an aura that the demon can’t resist—’
‘What’s an aura?’
David thought for a moment. ‘Well, it’s a bit like a smell, I suppose. Imagine the best smell you can think of.’
Hazel thought of the way her mother smelt of flowers after a day tending the garden, and felt tears prickling behind her eyes.
‘So the demon senses, or
smells
, the aura and comes running – it can’t help itself.’ David tipped the contraption up so Hazel could see an array of sharp-toothed
cogs inside. ‘The demon is snared and pulled inside towards the grinders and then,
splat!
Its mortal body is destroyed and its soul flung back to the demon world. Well, that’s
the theory anyway.’
‘Amazing,’ Hazel said, struggling to understand.
‘It really is. I wish the boss would teach me how to build such things.’
Hazel put her bowl down. The stew had warmed her stomach and her eyelids drooped. As she surrendered to sleep, she was dimly aware of David guiding her to a soft nest of cushions by the fire and
covering her with a blanket.
12
DEMONOLOGY
The breed of witch known as Wielders are born
with an innate magical talent, which they can
use to great and usually destructive purpose.
The English Witch Plague
by Jacob Sprenger
H azel woke and tried
Titus grunted, pocketed the money and barged out of the wagon.
‘The man’s a nightmare,’ Bramley murmured.
‘Is he always like that?’ Hazel asked.
‘Not
always
,’ David replied.
‘When will he be back? We need to get moving.’
‘He’ll be back as soon as he’s found something to drink,’ David said with a sad smile. He lifted the lid from the stew pot, releasing a rich smell of spiced meat.
‘Would you like something to eat?’
Hazel’s stomach rumbled despite her anxiety. Her meagre meal in the forest seemed a long time ago. ‘Yes, please.’
David ladled stew into two bowls. ‘I’m afraid we can only afford umbles. We’ve been living on the ragged edge of poverty for too long now. Meals are included in your fee, by
the way.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking a spoonful. ‘It’s pretty good.’ They ate in companionable silence. Hazel glanced at David and noticed that he was trying, without much
success, to grow a moustache. She smiled as Samson clambered to his feet and laid his huge slobbery head on her lap.
‘Urgh! What a dreadful beast,’ Bramley whimpered, burrowing deeper into her hair.
Hazel nodded towards a metal contraption propped up on the workbench. It looked like a large soup bowl with delicate brass levers sticking out from the sides. ‘What’s
that?’
David picked it up and set it carefully on his lap. It looked heavy. ‘It’s one of the boss’s inventions. He used to make things like this all the time back in the
day.’
‘What does it do?’ asked Hazel.
David grinned. ‘It’s a demon trap. We call it the Grinder.’
Hazel looked at the contraption with renewed interest. ‘Will we use it to catch the demon that took my mother?’
‘It depends. The Grinder can only snare lesser demons –
daemon-minimus
to give them their Latin name. Boggarts, goblins and suchlike. As for bigger demons –
Bladecatchers, Gullahtooths – well, they’re another matter entirely.’
‘Oh,’ Hazel said, not really understanding what he was talking about.
‘Let me show you how it works.’ He pointed to the levers. ‘Every type of demon is unique, so the trap needs to be set correctly for the specific demon you want to catch. You
tell the Grinder about the demon – weight, height and disposition – by pressing these levers.’
Hazel leaned closer and saw that the levers were inscribed with words like ‘Fat’, ‘Muscular’, ‘Scaly’, ‘Angry’ and ‘Murderous’.
‘Now,’ David said, ‘when the information is collated we press the “Set Trap” lever.’
‘And then?’
‘The Grinder releases an aura that the demon can’t resist—’
‘What’s an aura?’
David thought for a moment. ‘Well, it’s a bit like a smell, I suppose. Imagine the best smell you can think of.’
Hazel thought of the way her mother smelt of flowers after a day tending the garden, and felt tears prickling behind her eyes.
‘So the demon senses, or
smells
, the aura and comes running – it can’t help itself.’ David tipped the contraption up so Hazel could see an array of sharp-toothed
cogs inside. ‘The demon is snared and pulled inside towards the grinders and then,
splat!
Its mortal body is destroyed and its soul flung back to the demon world. Well, that’s
the theory anyway.’
‘Amazing,’ Hazel said, struggling to understand.
‘It really is. I wish the boss would teach me how to build such things.’
Hazel put her bowl down. The stew had warmed her stomach and her eyelids drooped. As she surrendered to sleep, she was dimly aware of David guiding her to a soft nest of cushions by the fire and
covering her with a blanket.
12
DEMONOLOGY
The breed of witch known as Wielders are born
with an innate magical talent, which they can
use to great and usually destructive purpose.
The English Witch Plague
by Jacob Sprenger
H azel woke and tried
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