This appeared to annoy Abigail. She rattled one of her claws. Her muzzle loomed close and her red eyes glowed brighter. The little creature tugged madly at its chain.
Abigail’s claw of forks balled into a fist and slammed down on the creature. When she lifted her claw the creature struggled again, though not as energetically this time.
She slammed her claw down again and again, pounding the table until the creature was still.
Julius flinched with each blow.
Then Abigail stopped and watched the flattened creature, her claw held ready in case it stirred again. It dangled from the chain when she held it up for inspection. Then she began to pull bits off it as if she was plucking the wings from a moth.
Baines shuddered. ‘Charming.’
‘She’s getting worse,’ said Rapple.
‘We should tell Mr Tock.’
‘You tell him, I’m not.’
‘Why should I, then?’
Abigail turned her attention back to the birdcages.
‘At least she’s stopped adding to herself. I wouldn’t want to see her get any bigger,’ said Rapple.
‘Thought any more about where we’ll go when Tock lets them loose?’ said Baines.
‘Yeah. I had an idea.’
Baines looked at him. ‘What was it, then?’
‘An island in the Pacific.’
‘An island? I like that. We’d be safe on an island.’
They paused a while, as if imaging sea breezes and flower-filled hills.
‘What a couple of specimens,’ whispered Mr Flynn.
Before Julius could reply, the wall near the table began to bubble, like milk boiling in a saucepan. The bubbles fanned out into a circle as high as a door.
‘Here he comes,’ said Baines.
CHAPTER 7
Friday 19th January 1838
11:43 PM
Baines straightened his hat and faced the bubbling wall.
Rapple stood to attention, still holding the beaker.
Julius stared in disbelief. ‘It’s as if the wall’s dissolving,’ he said. ‘I can see through it. How could that happen?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Mr Flynn.
Julius stared through his cleaned bit of glass at the bright circle on the wall.
‘There’s light coming through, like sunshine,’ he said. ‘It looks like the shape of rooftops. There’s someone there.’
Mr Tock stepped through the bubbling wall. He was carrying a small wooden box, which he snappedshut and put in his inside jacket pocket. Then he raised his wide-brimmed hat and bowed. Behind him the wall resolved itself into peeling plaster.
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. Are you well? Are you? Are you?’ he said.
‘Very well, indeed, Mr Tock, sir,’ said Baines.
‘Yes, very well, sir,’ said Rapple. He raised the beaker. ‘Just fixed up another batch of blood-and-bone fertiliser.’
‘ Excelentísimo ,’ said Tock. ‘Allow me.’ He took the beaker and blew on it to cool it a little.
‘Which of my darling soulcatchers would like to be fed first?’ He appeared to be talking to the caged orchids.
‘He called them soulcatchers, Mr Flynn,’ whispered Julius. ‘Like in Darwin’s diary.’
Tock went to the lowest-hanging cage and stooped to hold his face close to the bars.
Julius started, expecting the soulcatcher’s tendrils to shoot out towards him. But they remained still, as if Tock were not there.
‘What a wise little soulcatcher you are,’ said Tock. ‘You know I have no soul for you to catch.’
‘What did he…?’ whispered Mr Flynn.
‘He said he has no soul, and that the soulcatcher knows it,’ whispered Julius.
‘You like your food still warm, don’t you? Don’t you?’ said Tock. He poured some of the liquid fromthe beaker into the soil around the orchid.
‘Grow strong, my friend. Grow strong,’ said Tock. ‘And capture all those souls.’
‘What did he say?’ said Mr Flynn.
‘He said it’s going to capture souls,’ said Julius.
‘The man’s insane,’ said Mr Flynn.
What the Hell is going on, Higgins?
Tock suddenly spun around to face the dark corner.
‘Abigail, my dear,’ he said. ‘Are you well? Are you? Are you?’
He beckoned to the metal
Abigail’s claw of forks balled into a fist and slammed down on the creature. When she lifted her claw the creature struggled again, though not as energetically this time.
She slammed her claw down again and again, pounding the table until the creature was still.
Julius flinched with each blow.
Then Abigail stopped and watched the flattened creature, her claw held ready in case it stirred again. It dangled from the chain when she held it up for inspection. Then she began to pull bits off it as if she was plucking the wings from a moth.
Baines shuddered. ‘Charming.’
‘She’s getting worse,’ said Rapple.
‘We should tell Mr Tock.’
‘You tell him, I’m not.’
‘Why should I, then?’
Abigail turned her attention back to the birdcages.
‘At least she’s stopped adding to herself. I wouldn’t want to see her get any bigger,’ said Rapple.
‘Thought any more about where we’ll go when Tock lets them loose?’ said Baines.
‘Yeah. I had an idea.’
Baines looked at him. ‘What was it, then?’
‘An island in the Pacific.’
‘An island? I like that. We’d be safe on an island.’
They paused a while, as if imaging sea breezes and flower-filled hills.
‘What a couple of specimens,’ whispered Mr Flynn.
Before Julius could reply, the wall near the table began to bubble, like milk boiling in a saucepan. The bubbles fanned out into a circle as high as a door.
‘Here he comes,’ said Baines.
CHAPTER 7
Friday 19th January 1838
11:43 PM
Baines straightened his hat and faced the bubbling wall.
Rapple stood to attention, still holding the beaker.
Julius stared in disbelief. ‘It’s as if the wall’s dissolving,’ he said. ‘I can see through it. How could that happen?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Mr Flynn.
Julius stared through his cleaned bit of glass at the bright circle on the wall.
‘There’s light coming through, like sunshine,’ he said. ‘It looks like the shape of rooftops. There’s someone there.’
Mr Tock stepped through the bubbling wall. He was carrying a small wooden box, which he snappedshut and put in his inside jacket pocket. Then he raised his wide-brimmed hat and bowed. Behind him the wall resolved itself into peeling plaster.
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. Are you well? Are you? Are you?’ he said.
‘Very well, indeed, Mr Tock, sir,’ said Baines.
‘Yes, very well, sir,’ said Rapple. He raised the beaker. ‘Just fixed up another batch of blood-and-bone fertiliser.’
‘ Excelentísimo ,’ said Tock. ‘Allow me.’ He took the beaker and blew on it to cool it a little.
‘Which of my darling soulcatchers would like to be fed first?’ He appeared to be talking to the caged orchids.
‘He called them soulcatchers, Mr Flynn,’ whispered Julius. ‘Like in Darwin’s diary.’
Tock went to the lowest-hanging cage and stooped to hold his face close to the bars.
Julius started, expecting the soulcatcher’s tendrils to shoot out towards him. But they remained still, as if Tock were not there.
‘What a wise little soulcatcher you are,’ said Tock. ‘You know I have no soul for you to catch.’
‘What did he…?’ whispered Mr Flynn.
‘He said he has no soul, and that the soulcatcher knows it,’ whispered Julius.
‘You like your food still warm, don’t you? Don’t you?’ said Tock. He poured some of the liquid fromthe beaker into the soil around the orchid.
‘Grow strong, my friend. Grow strong,’ said Tock. ‘And capture all those souls.’
‘What did he say?’ said Mr Flynn.
‘He said it’s going to capture souls,’ said Julius.
‘The man’s insane,’ said Mr Flynn.
What the Hell is going on, Higgins?
Tock suddenly spun around to face the dark corner.
‘Abigail, my dear,’ he said. ‘Are you well? Are you? Are you?’
He beckoned to the metal
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