Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [66]
It was over a year before my chance came. Fights were common in that place. Petty jealousies and rivalries fuelled by the strong liquor their smuggling brought in would erupt into violent clashes and we were often called upon to treat the wounded. This particular night I was helping Mrs Ball to her bed when there came a thunderous hammering on the door. When I opened it I found the one they called Crab standing outside, a pinch-faced ruffian with a twisted hip that made him walk in an odd sideways fashion.
‘Come quick as you can. It’s the Captain,’ he shouted as soon as the door was open, then turned and hurried off into the night with his strange shuffle and skip. The Captain was their name for Maunder.
‘Not the first time someone’s tried to kill ’im,’ Mrs Ball muttered as we gathered together all we might need. ‘With luck, we’ll be too late to save ’im.’
One half of me agreed with the old woman’s sentiment, the other half feared I would be cheated of my revenge.
Maunder’s house, although it was the largest in the settlement, was cold and dark and it stank. Entering it was more like entering an animal’s cave than entering a human dwelling. We found Maunder lying on a filthy bed with Crab holding a glass of rum to his lips. Maunder’s normally dark face was pale, almost as pale as the white scar that ran down from under his left eye, through both his full lips and made a parting in his beard.
‘What took ’ee so long?’ he managed to grunt. Maunder’s right breast was a mass of blood.
‘I’ll need light,’ Mrs Ball said calmly. Crab did not move. He clearly took no orders from women.
‘Fetch a light, you scabby cur!’ snarled Maunder. Crab leapt from the room and returned with a lighted lantern.
‘Stabbed or shot?’ enquired Mrs Ball.
‘Shot,’ Maunder muttered. ‘The dog fired on me before I could finish him. But we’ll throw him off Devil’s Rock in the mornin’.’ He laughed an ugly laugh, then coughed blood into his beard. Mrs Ball probed the wound and shook her head. ‘It’s in too deep.’
‘Dig it out,’ commanded Maunder.
‘No, Mr Maunder, I will not. My hands are not as steady as they were. One slip and I fear I will kill you. You need a surgeon.’
‘Fetch my pistol, Crab.’
Crab did as he was told.
‘Hold it to the girl’s head. If the old woman’s hand slips, shoot the girl.’
And so the operation began, Crab gripping me tightly around the shoulders, his breath stinking of rum, the gun pressed to my head, Maunder groaning and cursing, beads of sweat on his forehead, Mrs Ball bent over him in the dim light of the lantern.
At last, Mrs Ball straightened. She threw a desperate glance in my direction. I could see how her hands were shaking. My whole body began to tremble uncontrollably as the cold sweat ran down inside my clothing. Crab was smiling a nasty smile. I was sure I was about to die.
The flickering light, my cold, shaking body, the rush of fear, reminded me of the night of the Devil Dances. I remembered the Edura – his old body transformed, powerful, the hideous mask on his face, standing over me as I lay with Una on the ground. I closed my eyes and thought I would faint but instead I seemed to slide, merge with the Edura’s image. I was the shaman and he was Riri Yakka, the Demon of Blood. I felt my body swelling, my face transforming; I was becoming the demon.
I heard a cry. Looking down, I saw Crab cringing away from me, the gun in his hand. He fired, but the shot bounced harmlessly from