The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors Read online

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ said Folly. ‘Once a Lurid has been returned to its final resting place, it’s almost impossible to embody it again.’

  ‘Oh, so that means . . .’

  ‘Yes, I can’t summon Axel again.’ She sighed. ‘But that can’t be helped. There are other things to worry about now. Kamptulicon won’t rest until he gets his book back.’

  Vincent laughed softly. ‘Good old Jonah, taking Kamptulicon’s cloak. And my smitelight was in there too.’

  By now they had reached the copse. Citrine led them into the dense woodland until they came to a small stone building in a clearing.

  ‘The Capodel Kryptos,’ she whispered respectfully. In the triangular pediment above the double doors was the family crest. ‘This is where Edgar claims to have laid my father to rest today, but I will not believe the body in there is his until I see it with my own eyes.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ asked Vincent. ‘The body was taken from the Tar Pit. It won’t be pleasant.’

  Citrine nodded. ‘I have to know.’

  Vincent stepped forward. He handed Folly his smitelight and she directed the light at the lock. Moments later the door was open and the four slipped in.

  ‘Impressive,’ whispered Folly with a smile. She shone the smitelight around the cool room.

  ‘It’s just like yours,’ said Jonah. And it was. There were niches in the walls, complete with caskets and urns, and in the centre was a marble plinth upon which rested a new casket. It was intricately carved, with delicate vines and leaves and flowers. Edgar had spared no expense, noted Vincent. Could Citrine be wrong about the body?

  Citrine went to the plinth. ‘Will you help me?’ she asked, and there was a tremor in her voice.

  Vincent stepped forward and flicked the switch on his wrist. Then, using the powerful magnetic force of his artificial hand, he managed to turn and extract the bolts that secured the lid. Even so it wouldn’t budge. ‘Edgar surely didn’t want anyone to open this,’ he said under his breath. He admitted defeat and Jonah took over.

  Taking his spear, Jonah pushed it between the lid and the casket and began to lever it up. It took all his strength but finally, with a loud cracking noise, the lid came free.

  Citrine took a deep breath, steadied herself by holding the edge of the casket and leaned forward.

  ‘Is it your father?’

  ‘Look.’

  Jonah and Vincent and Folly all peered cautiously into the gap.

  ‘Sea slugs, it’s empty!’

  Citrine clasped her hands together and her eyes were shining. ‘This means there’s still a chance he’s alive.’

  ‘Stranger things happen at sea,’ murmured Jonah.

  CHAPTER 32

  LOOSE ENDS

  Just inside the wrought-iron gates of the Capodel Chemical Company Manufactory a gleaming black Troika with a trio of horses stood motionless under the night lights. Inside the carriage two men were deep in conversation.

  ‘Well, Leopold, this has proved to be an interesting week – failure and success in equal measure.’

  Kamptulicon leaned forward, wringing his hands in the dark. ‘But I have proved, have I not, that I can do it? That I can summon a Lurid and give it a body. Is that not what was asked of me? The rest is just a setback, nanything that cannot be dealt with.’

  ‘Well, those four certainly need to be dealt with. But they have gone to ground. Neither hide nor hair has been seen of them since the Ritual.’

  ‘They have something of mine, and I will get it back.’ There was a brief silence before Kamptulicon ventured, ‘How goes it, down at the Tar Pit?’

  The other man sighed. ‘The fires are almost out, the Lurids are still wailing and there’s no shortage of tar, so I suppose it’s not so bad.’ He drained his glass and stood up. ‘Shall we go in and see what Mr Capodel has for us?’

  Edgar limped to the door – he had taken to using a cane since he had been run over at the hanging – and greeted his two visitors enthusiastically, ushering them into the impressive entrance hall of the Capodel Manufactory. Shortly after, the threesome were making their way towards a set of double doors at the end of a long corridor.

  ‘The funeral went well,’ said Leucer.

  ‘Yes, indeed. And now we can continue with our plans. Citrine and her friends can’t evade capture for much longer. I have every guardsman in the city looking for her.’

  ‘Good,’ said Leucer. ‘I do hate loose ends.’

  By now they had reached the end of the corridor. ‘They’re in here,’ said Edgar.

  He unlocked the door and gestured to the men to go through into the small low-lit room beyond. A gentle hum resonated around the cold space and there was a faint smell of tar. Leucer and Kamptulicon stood and stared for a moment. Behind them Edgar shuffled his feet, rubbing his hands. The Cunningman turned to him with a look of great excitement.

  ‘Domne, but this is splendid! You have outdone yourself,’ he said.

  Edgar smiled nervously. ‘And you, sir,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

  Leucer d’Avidus nodded his head slowly. ‘My dear Edgar,’ he said, ‘this almost makes up for all the mishaps along the way.’

  Edgar beamed with relief. ‘Marvellous. I have taken the liberty of bringing a bottle – your favourite, Grainwine. Will you join me in a toast?’ He poured three glasses. ‘Here’s to the three of us,’ he said. ‘With our combined talents, power and wealth, we are an invincible team.’

  And Leopold Kamptulicon, Edgar Capodel and Leucer d’Avidus raised a glass to themselves.

  Yes, thought Edgar. I have outdone myself, despite all the obstacles, especially Citrine.

  And he looked with great satisfaction upon his achievement, one hundred gleaming black Cold Cabinets.

  CHAPTER 33

  FROM THE DEGRINGOLADE DAILY

  WANTED

  Reported by Hepatic Whitlock

  Citrine Capodel

  The Rich Girl: a duplicitous, russet-haired, green-eyed, ice-hearted murderess

  Vincent

  The Thief: a brazen-faced, metal-handed cutpurse and expert picklock

  Folly Harpelaine

  The Seeker: blonde, leather-clad, versed in the perfidious Furtivartes

  Suspect no. 4

  The Brute: unnamed as yet, Samson-like, horrifically scarred, violent-tempered and armed with a spear. Do not approach!

  These four individuals are believed to work together as a criminal gang and are responsible for theft, violent acts and murder. It is suspected that they have knowledge of the Furtivartes and are in league with Supermundane forces, as evidenced by Folly Harpelaine’s grotesque performance on the shore of the Tar Pit. The Outsider, Vincent, is not a native Degringoladian. The fourth fellow is immensely strong; he assaulted five guardsmen at the Ritual. We cannot ignore the possibility that his powers are derived from unearthly practices. Citrine Capodel’s recent escape from the noose certainly smacked of Supermundane intervention. Her cousin Edgar Capodel has disowned her, declaring her no longer worthy of the Capodel name.

  Now, dear readers, I do not need to tell you that Degringolade is no stranger to the Supermundane. We all hear the howling Lurids; we take measures to protect ourselves from foul Vapids and Noctivagrantes and Lemures. So you will understand why, in keeping with a long-held tradition in the history of newspapers and for your ease, I have taken it upon myself to name these nefarious criminals. From this moment forward they will be known as:

  The Phenomenals

  that their reign of terror may come to a quick and painful end!

  ‘Hmm,’ murmured Suma as she handed the paper to Wenceslas. ‘Hepatic Whitlock certainly knows how to whip up a storm. To equate those four youngsters with Phenomenals, possibly the most baneful and pernicious of all Supermundane entities? But you know what they say.’

  ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘When the local paper goes so far as to give you a name, you’ve outstayed your welcome.’


  Wenceslas harrumphed. ‘I suspect these “Phenomenals” will be around a while longer. Methinks they have unfinished business.’

  Suma gave him a little smile. ‘Let’s have a look at the cards. Toss the maerl, Wen, and take a chance.’

  F. E. Higgins has been fascinated by the macabre ever since seeing a ghostly apparition as a child. Nowadays Higgins travels the lands, collecting strange artefacts and the even stranger stories behind them. Her Tales from the Sinister City series has sold all over the world.

  When not in pursuit of a story, Higgins may be found in a haunted house in Kent.

  Other books by F. E. Higgins

  The Tales from the Sinister City series

  The Black Book of Secrets

  The Bone Magician

  The Eyeball Collector

  The Lunatic’s Curse

  www.fehiggins.com

  First published 2013 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2013 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-447-21776-3 EPUB

  Copyright © F. E. Higgins 2013

  The right of F. E. Higgins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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