Page 53 of Waifs And Strays
I smoothed out the flyer and started to read.Life in the doldrums? Failed by your faith and their old routines? Why not do something different this solstice and join us at Crackendon Square at noon for a new beginning?
‘Demon worshippers,’ the deacon hissed. ‘They’re luring away our followers. They’ve said they’re doing something big for the solstice. Half my flock are planning to go and see what they’re up to instead of coming to the Masked God celebrations. We’ve had to make big promises to keep our followers engaged with us instead of with them.’
Like building a brand-new tower. It seemed like little more than a dick-waving contest. The Church of the Masked God shouldn’t have been afraid of competition – but then I remembered what Quack’s dying assassin had murmured about sacrifice. Perhaps there was more to this competitive spat than I’d realised.
‘Demon worshippers?’ asked somebody in the crowd with a derisive snort. ‘Really?’
‘You don’t understand,’ the deacon returned. ‘These are not good people.’
Others in the crowd were gaining confidence. ‘When was the last time anyone saw a demon?’ another person called out mockingly.
There was a ripple of amused snickers. I didn’t join in; instead I turned over the flyer and looked at the other side. There was a hand-drawn symbol of a bright red circle with aslash through it. I’d seen it before, spray painted onto the side of Lorna’s apartment building. And the assassin who’d taken Quack’s life had red paint staining his fingertips.
‘This is them?’ I asked the deacon, my voice dangerously quiet. ‘Who are they?’
‘They call themselves Umbra.’ His mouth thinned. ‘Like their name, they stick to the shadows. We don’t know who their leaders are, but we’ve seen enough to know that they have tried to invoke several demons in the past.’ He looked at the small crowd. ‘Just because no one in Coldstream has seen a demon for two hundred years doesn’t mean they no longer exist.’
‘You think this Umbra outfit is run by ademon?’ I asked, horror beginning to supplant my disbelief. The deacon’s suspicions suddenly felt very real.
‘No, but we think they’re trying to conjure one into existence. And if that happens, the Masked God help us all. If Umbra gain enough followers, they will succeed.’
Ice-cold prickles ran down my spine.
Tommy, who had remained on his knees, staggered to his feet and stared over my shoulder at the flyer. ‘I’ve seen that symbol before,’ he muttered. ‘Somebody graffitied it onto the side of the warehouse. I thought it was kids but…’ His voice trailed off.
I raised my eyebrows at the deacon. ‘Maybe it wasn’t a contentment spell that caused the warehouse to burn down.’ I held up the flyer. ‘Maybe these people had a hand in what happened.’
The deacon hesitated, then wrinkled his nose. ‘You should all go home,’ he said finally. ‘There’s nothing more that can be done here.’ He turned to Tommy. ‘Get some rest. We’ll talk about what can be salvaged for the tower later.’ He nodded briefly to me then he marched away with considerably less energy than when he’d arrived.
Tommy was staring at me wide-eyed. ‘Do you really think it was arson and not the contentment spell?’
‘Oh, it was definitely the contentment spell,’ I said. I started walking away. ‘Do what the deacon said,’ I called out. ‘Go home and get some rest.’
And I broke into a run.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Ireturned home in a fraction of the time it had taken me to get to the Glebe, my mind working overtime with all that I’d learned.
It was too early to get hold of Trilby and ask what they’d meant the other day about werewolf blood being used to conjure demons. I’d thought it was a throwaway line at the time but now I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know where Trilby lived and even the riverside market traders wouldn’t be setting up their stalls at this hour.
But there were still things I could do. I darted through the garden and swung into my little kitchen, startling all five cats who were still hovering there desperately hoping for an early breakfast. I ignored their plaintive miaows and the cupboard containing their food; instead I upended the bin in one swift motion and scattered the rubbish across the floor. It didn’t take long to find the flyer I’d received with the rest of my junk mail and so casually discarded without a second glance.
It was an exact copy of the one the deacon had given me.Life in the doldrums? Failed by your faith and their old routines?Why not do something different this solstice and join us at Crackendon Square at noon for a new beginning?
For fuck’s sake; I’d had the answer all along, I just hadn’t recognised it because I hadn’t given the junk mail any attention. I turned over the flyer and traced the red symbol, then another thought occurred to me. I dropped the flyer onto the floor and headed back outside.
Dawn was still at least three hours away. The darkness didn’t make it easy but I scanned the walls of my house carefully. There was nothing on the front or side walls so I moved back through the garden until I was standing in the middle of the potholed street staring at my home.
She Without An Ear followed me, her head tilted with curiosity. I glanced down at her. ‘I’m looking for graffiti,’ I told her. ‘Have you seen any around here?’
She sat back on her haunches and gazed at me, unblinking. I stared back. ‘I could really do with some help here,’ I said.
She Without An Ear merely sniffed.
‘Show me,’ I said. ‘And then I’ll feed you. I promise.’
