The Demon Curse by Simon Nicholson

Author:Simon Nicholson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2015-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The nets stank of fish. River water dripped from them as they hung on the boathouse wall, and Harry, hidden behind them, flinched as a trickle snaked down his face. He felt Billie flinch too and grabbed her arm, steadying her. Even that slight move, he noticed, made the nets sway, their wetness catching the light. He peered out through the foul-smelling strands and listened to the fishermen.

“We’re all here then.”

“Six o’clock, just like you said.”

“Tell us what’s going on. Tell us quick…”

There were about twenty of them, tugging wooden stools into a circle. They sat down, delving into tobacco pouches and drinking from their bottles. A couple of men crouched over an iron brazier, and soon flames crept up from it, throwing light around the circle of faces, every one of them staring toward Daggerbeard and Yelloweyes, who were sitting by an upturned boat hull. The faces were suspicious, and Harry heard mutterings, snarls. But they fell silent as Daggerbeard rose and walked toward the sack on the table.

The brazier’s flames brightened as he lurched past. Shadows of his bulk slanted around the boathouse. He reached for the sack and emptied it. Feathers, snakeskins, and seeds spilled onto the table. Daggerbeard pointed at the items.

“The demon curse. Don’t you worry; it’ll do for its victims.” His voice growled through a thin smile. “The Islanders, I mean.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, and he saw Billie doing the same. His hand tightened on her arm. The fishermen were still motionless, but Daggerbeard’s shadows hurtled around the room as he strode around the circle.

“We’ll free this town of them. Every last one of them!” Daggerbeard growled.

“About time! Filthy folk with their dangerous ways!” Yelloweyes glared at the sack’s contents. “Who knows if that stuff of theirs summons demons or not? But once we’ve done the job, once we’ve tucked it under the floorboards just where Monticelso’s sleeping, once we’ve sent a little note to the New Orleans police telling them where to look, that little sack’ll whisk up demons of one kind, just you see!”

“There’ll be rioting in the streets! The Islanders’ll be forced to run. No one’ll have a doubt they’re behind the demon curse, and they’ll be gone. And we know what happens then, don’t we?” Daggerbeard swung around. “It’ll be ours! Fisherman’s Point!”

Fisherman’s Point. The words echoed around the boathouse. Harry listened to every lingering trace of them, and with each echo, the business became clearer to him. So that’s what’s going on—these men want the Islanders’ land. Huddled behind the net, he watched the fishermen, who had scowls on their faces and were snarling at Daggerbeard and his friend.

“That’s all very well, but when, eh?”

“Three days ago, you asked for our money. What’s happened since?”

“Nothing, that’s what! You tried this plan of yours, and you failed!”

“Now you’re asking for more money—”

“Sure we are!” Daggerbeard bellowed. “It’s turned out more difficult than we thought, every bit of it! Right from the very start—pickpocketing the keys from one of the city hall servants.

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