Fire Girl (8 page)

‘Why not?’ Hazel asked.

‘He’s in a fragile state at the moment. The black dog, you know. He might get . . . agitated. I’ll ease him into our agreement gently. Just leave him to me. I know how to
handle him. Deal?’

This is the right thing to do
, Hazel thought, shaking David’s hand and noticing how warm his fingers were
. I can’t do this on my own.

‘Oh, Hazel,’ Bramley moaned. ‘What have you done?’

Hazel pretended to scratch her neck and gave him another jab with her finger.

‘So now that’s settled, you can explain what your problem is,’ David said. ‘A demon, eh?’

‘Be careful how much you tell him,’ Bramley whispered. ‘Just enough to be useful . . . but not enough to cast suspicion on you or your mother.’

‘Yes, a demon,’ Hazel said. ‘At least I think it was – I’m not an expert like you.’

‘Quite, quite . . . Did you see it?’

Hazel nodded.

‘So what did it do?’

‘It took my mother.’

David’s face creased with concern. ‘How awful. Tell me what happened.’

‘Ma and me live in Wychwood, in a cottage, just the two of us. Two days ago she was washing in the pool and this
thing
. . . came out of the water, grabbed her and dragged her away
into the trees.’ Hazel looked down at her boots. ‘I’ve been looking for her ever since, but I don’t know how to track demons.’

David’s frown deepened. ‘You’re absolutely sure it was a demon? They’re very rare. Could it have been a man? Some bandit looking—’

‘I know what I saw,’ Hazel said.

David nodded. ‘It’s all right – I believe you.’

‘So, will you help?’

‘Of course,’ David said, laying his hand on her shoulder. ‘I am going to dedicate my skills and time to reunite you with your mother, as unharmed as circumstances
allow.’

‘Thank you,’ breathed Hazel, a glow of relief spreading through her.

‘Don’t mention it. But before we start, you’ll need to prepare yourself for the worst. Do you understand what I’m talking about? Most people who are taken by demons, well
. . .’

‘She’s alive, I know it, and I must find her!’

‘And so we shall.’ The boy smiled. ‘You know I’ve just realized – I don’t even know your name.’

‘I’m Hazel. Hazel Hooper.’

‘
Well done
,’ Bramley hissed. ‘Now he knows your real name. So much for subterfuge.’

‘What a pretty name,’ David murmured. ‘Now, as I said, our services are the best value on the market. We ask for a flat fee, plus expenses, all refundable if the venture
results in failure. Failure being the, er . . . non-return of your mother.’

Hazel rooted about in her bag and produced the pouch of coins. ‘This is all I have.’

‘Splendid,’ said David, weighing the bag in his hands before handing it back to Hazel. ‘Now, first things first – we have to get the boss out of gaol, which unfortunately
means dealing with the tubby captain again. But needs must, I suppose. Follow me.’ And with that he bounded up the stairs and burst back into Price’s office.

Thinking it would have been a good idea to knock, Hazel followed him inside.

‘A witch shows neither loyalty nor love;

their hearts are as black as night.’

Matthew Hopkins, Witch Hunter General

‘Y
ou again,’ Captain Price said to David, standing up and planting his knuckles on the desk. ‘Do you actually like being thrown
downstairs?’ Hazel sidled up to the desk and gave the captain her best smile. His frown deepened and he jabbed a greasy finger at David. ‘You’re not leading this girl astray, are
you?’

‘He’s not, sir,’ Hazel said before David had a chance to retort. ‘David has agreed to escort me home to, er . . .’ Her mind went blank as she realized that she
didn’t know the names of any other towns.

‘Lenham,’ David said. ‘It’s an arduous journey so I’m going to ensure Miss Hooper’s safe arrival back into the bosom of her family.’

Hazel slowly let out her breath.

‘Well, miss, I’d offer to help you myself, but my lads are busy trying to keep things in order here,’ Price said. ‘People have been jumpy since the purge. Who knew so
many witches lived among us? My washerwoman was found guilty of turning the Red Lion’s ale sour. Her own husband turned her in – but then he’s a terrible drunk and she was always
nagging him to leave off the drinking . . .’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t know who’s going to clean my shirts now.’

‘We live in dark times,’ David said, nodding sagely.

Price glowered at him. ‘Miss, I’d warn you against taking up with this troublesome young princeling. Too many airs-and-graces wrapped up in ragged clothes, if you ask me.’

David bristled. ‘No one
is
asking you, you lunk-headed—’

Hazel squeezed David’s arm. ‘Captain, I’d like to pay the fine to release Mr White. Then we can be on our way.’

The chair creaked as Price sat down. ‘Titus White, eh? The famous Witch Finder? He was quite a man in his day, but he’s a walking wine sack now. I doubt he could find his way to the
latrine, let alone Lenham.’

‘I shall ensure the young lady gets home,’ David said, leaning so far over the desk he was nearly nose to nose with the captain.

Price ignored him and addressed Hazel. ‘Drunk as a lord, he was, in the Red Lion.
He
doesn’t mind sour ale. Shouting something about a black dog. Took four of my lads to get
him into his cell. My uniform got quite rumpled in the fracas.’ He smoothed invisible creases out of his frockcoat.

‘We’ll have him out of your hair in no time.’ Hazel passed her bag of coins to Price, who opened it and nodded.

‘Don’t worry, miss,’ he said, handing her an iron key. ‘I’ll make sure you get your change. White’s in the last cell on the left.’ He pointed down a
dingy stone corridor. ‘Yell if he gives you any trouble. Me and the princeling here will finish off the paperwork.’

‘The boss’ll be fine . . . but he hates rude awakenings,’ David called after her. ‘Try to rouse him gently.’

The corridor was lit by a guttering torch, and smelt of things Hazel didn’t want to think about. Each cell had a heavy wooden door with a barred window. She wondered about the miserable
souls who had languished there in the cold darkness over the decades.

She reached the last cell and, standing on tiptoes, peered through the bars. A candle jammed in a bottle illuminated dank walls and a filthy floor. Reeking in the corner was a cloth-covered
bucket; the smell made her eyes water. At first she thought the cell was empty, then she noticed a hand poking out from a pile of rags by the wall.

The Witch Finder
, she thought with a thrill of apprehension.
Asleep . . . or dead?
She unlocked the door. Hinges creaked in protest as she pushed it open.

‘My poor nose,’ Bramley squeaked, crawling into the neck of her cloak in an effort to hide from the smell. ‘I think I’m going to faint.’

Taking only short breaths through her mouth, Hazel sidled up to the hand, which remained limp and lifeless.

‘Titus? Mr Titus White?’

Bending down, Hazel nudged a bulge under the rags that she suspected was a shoulder; then shrieked as the owner of the hand reared up and bellowed like an angry bear. The rags fell away, and she
found herself staring up at a man clad in fury and a long black coat.

Before she could speak he grabbed her by the neck and lifted her clear off the ground. Fighting for breath, Hazel kicked and punched with all her might. ‘Let . . . me . . .
go
!’ she gasped, torn between rage and fear. A burning flash of magic erupted in her heart, but she screwed up her eyes and held it in as best she could.

He mustn’t find out I’m a witch
, she thought. She could hear Bramley’s panicked squeaks from inside the fabric of her cloak and hoped he had the sense to stay hidden.
‘I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .’

The man thrust his face close enough for her to see every knot and piece of filth entwined in his wild hair and beard. ‘Who in blazes are you? Speak, or I’ll shake the teeth out of
your skull.’ His voice was a rumble that Hazel felt in her chest.

Too stunned to reply – she could only stare into his stone-hard eyes.

‘No name, eh?’ he barked. ‘So where did you come from? Did you spring up from the slop-bucket? Are you a slop-sprite?’ He loosened his grip just enough to allow Hazel to
reply.

‘No,’ she eventually managed, choking on the smell of ale and tobacco that seeped from the man’s mud-splattered coat. ‘I’m your . . . new client.’

The man narrowed his eyes. ‘But you’re just a
girl
.’

‘That may be,’ Hazel said, gathering her courage. ‘But I’m also the girl who’s bought your freedom . . . and if you don’t put me down this . . .
instant
, I’ll gladly ask for my money back and leave you here to . . . rot.’

The man’s lips peeled back into a snarl.

‘Put her down, Boss,’ David said from the doorway. ‘She’s paid the fine and we’re free to leave this forsaken town.’

Titus grunted, dropped Hazel and stalked out of the cell.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Hazel brushed herself down and yelled, ‘You’re welcome,’ after him.

‘Don’t worry,’ David said. ‘He’s always like that when he wakes up.’

‘Witches consort with demons, and cast spells,

and other accursed charms and crafts.

It is my duty to fight these evil-doers.’

Pope Innocent VIII

‘I
’m sorry about the boss. You’ll get used to him,’ David said. ‘Our wagon is just down here.’ He led Hazel
down an alley and into a dingy courtyard. ‘Here we are. Welcome to our perambulating home.’

On the other side of the courtyard was a four-wheeled, enclosed wagon, bathed in the light of two lanterns hooked on to its overhanging eaves. Yoked to the front, drinking from a water trough,
were two enormous Clydesdale stallions.

‘You live in
that?’
Hazel asked, rubbing at her sore neck. She was relieved to feel Bramley’s twitching nose nudging at her fingers from under her cloak.

‘We do indeed. It suits the needs of two freelance Witch Finders. It may be small but it has everything we require.’