Julius and the Soulcatcher (2 page)

‘Veil? Oh, that one. A very well-spoken child, very
polite. Very pretty too. I bought this odd fish from her,' said Mr Higgins.

He lifted a book from the counter. The cover was worn. Its title looked like it had been cut into the leather with a sharp knife. Julius held it up to the candle to make out the letters.
A Diary of My Voyage on H.M.S. Beagle
—
C. R. Darwin.

‘Did she leave her name or…or her address, Grandfather?'

‘No, neither. Why do you ask?'

‘Oh, no reason. Is it interesting?' said Julius, leafing through the pages.

‘
Odd
is the word I would use. I thought one of my more eccentric collectors might be interested; it contains some exquisite paintings of orchids. I might get two pounds for it from an orchid maniac.'

‘Did the girl say where she got it?'

‘She said she chanced upon it lying in a gutter and, as she loved books above all things, she hoped I might find a home for it with a book-lover who would appreciate its unique qualities,' said Mr Higgins.

Ha-ha. It's her, Higgins. It's definitely her. She nicked it.

‘And you believed her?' Julius said, with a smile he couldn't contain.

‘Of course not. Do I resemble a new-born infant? It is obviously stolen. It will be an “under-the-counter” sale, you can be sure of that.'

Julius stopped at one of the pages. It was a
watercolour painting of a tortoise—but not any ordinary tortoise. Comparing its size to the sailor standing beside it, Julius reckoned the creature to be as large as a tin bath.

‘This Darwin fellow is obviously a fantasist,' said Mr Higgins. ‘But a talented painter, nonetheless.'

‘Hmm,' said Julius. He continued turning the pages. On one was a line of finely painted birds in profile, each with a slightly different beak. ‘He says “The Islands of Galapagos are like a continent in miniature, with their own unique variety of creatures.”'

Julius turned more pages. ‘And he says here, “The variation occurring among the fauna of these islands is the clearest I have seen on my voyage thus far. Each new observation strengthens my theory. But is the world ready to hear that Nature selects, sculpts and forms her own garden?”'

‘A lunatic, no doubt,' said Mr Higgins.

‘What's this?' Julius stopped at a portrait of a man caught in the zenith of a scream of unimaginable agony.

‘Good Heavens,' said Mr Higgins. ‘I didn't notice that one.'

Plants grew from the man's mouth and nostrils and the corners of his eyes. Flame-red flowers at the ends of the stems surrounded the man's head. On the opposite page C. R. Darwin had written:

The door burst open. Crimper McCready ran in. His gaping mouth reminded Julius of the picture—that same screaming rictus of terror.

‘What the—' said Mr Higgins.

‘The girl's been took,' said Crimper.

‘Emily?' said Julius.

‘Who?' said his grandfather.

‘Down the road. It was that hansom cab without the lamp. There was two bruisers and a little geezer. They threw her in the cab. She was fighting like a good 'un but—'

Julius clutched Crimper's arm. ‘Where did they go?'

‘I don't know. I ran here. We should send for a constable. It's kidnappers or—' Crimper stopped. He looked through the window. ‘Did you hear that?'

‘What?'

It was the same galloping clatter they had heard in the alleyway.

‘That,' said Crimper.

Julius felt his chest tighten as if gripped by an icy claw.

They've got Emily.

‘Quick, bolt the door,' said Mr Higgins. He slipped the diary under the sales ledger.

CHAPTER 2

Thursday 18th January 1838

6:14 PM

Crimper was only two steps from the door, but he was rooted to the spot in terror.

‘Here it comes,' he said.

The black horse pulled up outside the shop window. The cabbie was too high in his seat to be seen, but the reins tightened on the horse's neck. It snorted once, blowing out a cloud of steam. The cab lamp was still unlit, but the lamp above the shop doorway showed the outline of the cab and the gossamer mist of sweat rising from the horse's back.

Julius lunged for the door, but Crimper retreated at the same moment, knocking him away. A man climbed out of the front of the cab with the girl slung over his shoulder. The cabbie climbed down too.

Julius pushed Crimper aside and rushed forward. He clasped the door knob.

‘Bolt the door,' shouted his grandfather.

Julius hesitated. Both men looked at them through the display window. The cabbie was as thin as a workhouse dog, and a full head, chest and shoulders taller than the other man. The girl squirmed and fought in the shorter man's grasp.

‘Bolt the door, damn you,' said his grandfather again.

You can't lock her out, Higgins. You can't.

In two steps the cabbie was at the door. He jiggled the handle. Julius grasped the other side, holding it fast. The cabbie's eyes looked at him through the letter H of
Higgins' Booksellers
in the frosted glass.

‘Bolt the blasted door,' ordered his grandfather.

What would Mr Flynn do, Higgins?
he asked himself.

Julius let go of the door knob and stepped back.

The shop bell rang as the cabbie swung the door open.

‘Very wise, young man,' he said. His voice had a rasping yet oddly gentle quality to it. The cabbie remained outside on the step, his eyes flicking left and right as if in search of danger, or prey. His face was so long and thin it looked like a stalactite hanging from his billycock hat. His cheekbones were so pronounced that his pock-marked skin strained to contain them.

The other man—as squat and solid as a
bulldog—entered the shop carrying the girl over his shoulder. His faded brown, triple-caped overcoat reached almost to the ground, giving the impression that he floated, rather than walked across the floor.

He dropped the girl. She landed with a thud and a stifled yelp.

‘Got a delivery for you,' he said, through a tilted slit of a mouth. He sniffed home a stream of silvery snot into his misshapen nose.

A third man barged into the shop bearing the eager expression of a spoilt child let loose in a sweet shop. He was small, shorter than Julius, and the strangest-looking person Julius had ever seen.

‘What a lovely evening it is,' said the man, in a singsong voice.

That's the voice from the cab, Higgins.

The little man's smile revealed two rows of disconcertingly small teeth. They reminded Julius of old-fashioned, porcelain dentures.

Mr Higgins opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind.

The man raised his purple, wide-brimmed hat to reveal wiry, red hair parted along the middle. His skin as dry as ancient parchment and in his small hands he held a plant pot.

Julius did not know if it was his imagination or the blood going cold in his veins, but he felt the temperature in the bookshop drop.

Crimper's flesh wobbled as he stepped back and bumped into the display table. He caught the candle before it fell, but several books spilled onto the floor.

Mr Higgins used the distraction to regain his composure and prepare himself for business.

‘Have I come to the right place? Have I? Have I?' said the short red-headed man. He unbuttoned his purple frock coat to reveal a yellow-and-purple-striped waistcoat.

He's not dressed for the cold, Higgins.

‘Well, I'm not sure, sir. What was it you required?' asked Mr Higgins.

Julius clenched his fists to stop them trembling.

‘Require? Can you guess?' said the man. ‘Can you? Can you?'

The innocently expectant tone of his enquiry froze Julius's blood solid—he could almost feel his veins cracking and splintering.

‘Er?' said Mr Higgins.

‘A diary, bound in leather, written by my good friend, Mr Darwin.'

‘Hmm, let me think,' said Mr Higgins, as his eyes ran along the shelves.

‘Shall I give you a hint?' said the man. ‘Shall I? Shall I? This little thief told me she sold it to you not five minutes ago.' The man stopped smiling. ‘And I want it back.'

‘Oh, I see. Well, if it is stolen property perhaps
we ought to alert the constabulary,' said Mr Higgins, rather feebly.

‘Or,' said the man, ‘my friend here could chop her hand off.'

The stocky man pulled a meat cleaver from inside his coat. The veiled girl flinched and fought to get free.

‘All right, all right, take the book,' said Julius. He snatched it from under the sales ledger.

The man's pale skin creaked like shoe leather as he stretched out a smile. His blue eyes seemed to glow faintly around the black dots of his pupils.

Julius's hand trembled as he held out the book.

‘Thank you, so much, young sir,' said the man. His fingers wrapped themselves around the diary.

The stocky man tucked the meat cleaver away and slunk out of the shop with a grunt of disappointment.

‘Such a pleasure to meet you,' said the small man. ‘I do so enjoy acquiring new friends. I do, I do.'

He placed the flowerpot on the counter. ‘Do accept this gift? I grew it myself,' he said. ‘It is a little chilled at present but water and warmth is all it needs, and a little affection. Who knows? One day, it may surprise you.'

The little man left. The cabbie closed the door, and the cab groaned as he climbed up to his seat. He snapped the whip and the horse moved slowly past the window and out of sight.

Crimper's whole body sagged. Mr Higgins patted his chest gently to calm his heart.

‘Are you all right?' said Julius to the veiled girl on the floor. She was breathing deeply like a disgruntled tomcat.

‘I'm ace,' she said. ‘Takes more than a mob of tupenny-'apenny villains to put the wind up me.'

Oh, yes, it's definitely her, Higgins.

‘I beg your pardon, miss,' said Mr Higgins.

‘You wot?' said the girl.

‘You seem to have changed your accent. The shock has made you speak like a guttersnipe.'

‘I ain't shocked. Talking posh for too long makes me jaw ache, don't it,' said the girl.

She stood up and lifted the veil from her face.

‘Hello, Emily,' said Julius.

She was indeed very pretty, just as his grandfather had said. But Julius already knew that. He also knew that in a few years she would be the prettiest young lady in the whole of London. He had travelled through time and seen it for himself.

‘Er…'ello, 'iggins,' said Emily, uneasily. ‘How's fings?'

‘Fine,' said Julius.

‘Do you know this person, young Caesar?' asked Mr Higgins.

‘Yes, Grandfather. We met last year when I was delivering books to Jack Springheel.'

Julius winced at the memory of Emily and her gang of street urchins surrounding him with coshes raised and negotiating a payment
not
to do him down. Luckily, Professor Fox had leapt up through the cobblestones to rescue him.

Mr Higgins knew nothing of this. Julius doubted he would believe it anyway.

‘Well, little miss, I'll have my sovereign back, thank you,' said Mr Higgins.

‘Wot? You bought it fair and square, Mr 'iggins. It ain't my fault wot 'appens to it after that.'

‘I bought that diary in good faith, young lady. If I had known it was stolen I would have called for a constable and had you arrested,' said Mr Higgins, with the gravity of a headmaster at a school for feral children.

To Julius's surprise, Emily's lower lip jutted out in a pout and she blushed with contrition.