"What is she wanted for?" asked Tatty suddenly feeling very wide awake.
The Spy Fly would have shrugged if he'd had some shoulders. "How would I know zzz. I don't get told these things."
"You're lying!" snapped Magnus.
"Okay," replied the Spy Fly. "She's wanted because she's got something The Great Torquere wants zzz. She has a power that he seeks."
"A power?" said Douglas under his breath.
"What did I tell you," said Magnus excitedly, "she's a witch."
"So how much is the reward?" asked Tatty.
"Don't even think about it," said Mary abruptly. "I mean, I do think she needs to go … but getting Torquere's henchmen involved?" She looked around nervously. "It's just too risky."
"They're not interested in us," said Tatty, "they're only interested in the girl."
Mary stamped her foot impatiently: "And then it'll be
you
on their wanted list. Believe me. I've heard the horror stories. It's not going to happen Tatty."
"If we're going to do something it has to be soon. I haven’t had a single crowd – not one – for four days now," confessed Magnus.
"Me neither," said Mary.
Douglas nodded. "Same here."
"I agree with Mary," said Magnus. "We can't get Torquere involved; they will pay the reward with one hand and sign our death warrants with the other." He stopped, looked around him guardedly, then continued: "We have to do it
our
way. And whatever happens, Granny Doyle must never find out. Agreed?"
"Wait," shouted Spy Fly excitedly. "You mean the girl is here?" He struggled desperately to pull himself off Magnus' arm, his mechanisms whirring alarmingly fast with the effort. "Must ... get ... off ... must ... return ..."
Magnus the Magnificent Magnet Man pulled Spy Fly off his arm and holding it between his forefinger and thumb looked it square in the eyes. "Why so interested little fella?"
"Because," said Spy Fly in his tinny little voice, "my assignment was to find the girl and report back to the Great Torquere."
"Hmm, is that so he can send his army here, ransack our circus then steal her away?" asked Magnus sarcastically.
"Yes," said the Spy Fly cheerily surprised.
"You're really not very bright are you?" sighed Magnus. Suddenly, with a quick flick of the wrist he threw Spy Fly to the ground and stamped on it until it was squashed into the mud. Its body buzzed fitfully as Magnus brushed his hands off satisfied with the job he'd done.
Tatty kicked some pebbles at his feet. "I dunno," he muttered angrily. "What does it matter if we do call in the henchmen. Let them do the dirty work if she’s wanted. The sooner the better too."
Mary's eyes shifted in the direction of Douglas and Magnus, her face contorted with anger.
What happened next was – and still is – subject to great debate.
Nearby, in her luxurious new wagon Margie hadn’t slept well at all. Her sleep had been plagued by bad dreams in which her body had been invaded by a great worm-like creature. The size of a small snake, she could feel it squirming and wriggling violently inside her. The creature travelled from her stomach upwards into her neck, then her face distorting and deforming her features as it did so. And try as she might, she was unable to scream as the creature squeezed its way back down into her torso. All the while she could hear The Big Invisible breathing in her ear, whispering to her, talking to her in a language she didn’t understand …
A loud rapping on her door stirred her. She woke in a panic.
"Who's there?" she cried, scratching her skin so violently that it bled.
In the half light Margie saw The Giant let himself into the Wagon. Margie slumped back into her pillow and closed her eyes, exhausted but relieved.
"We gotta talk," said The Giant hovering awkwardly near the end of her bed.
"I don't want to," replied Margie, her eyes still closed. "I'm too tired."
"I done something bad," said The Giant
Margie hadn't noticed the melancholy note in his voice. "Please Giant, just give me one more hour."
"
Really
bad." said The Giant, looking over his shoulder towards the door as though fearful of having been followed.
Margie sat up angrily. "What is it?" she snapped lighting the oil lamp beside her bed. "This had better be good."
When the light eventually reached The Giant, Margie's stomach lurched. He looked pale and frightened and both hands, which he held out in front of him, were bleeding profusely.
Margie leapt out of bed. "What happened?" she cried. "Why are your hands bleeding like this?"
"I didn' do nothing."
"Did you hurt yourself?" asked Margie checking him over for any other signs of injury.
"I didn' do
nothing
," he repeated sadly.
Margie pulled a shawl around her shoulders and headed for the door. "C'mon," she said, "Grandma Doyle will know what to do!"
"No," said The Giant anxiously. He wiped his hands on his shirt. "We can't go out there! It's too dangerous."
"What's wrong Giant, what happened? Has someone been hurt? Tell me."
"Oh Margie, somethin' ain't right! We gotta go. Promise me we can leave here. Today."
Margie's face dropped, her eyes narrowed and she shook her head angrily."Why can't you just be happy for me, Giant? Why do you want to ruin things for me?"
The Giant may not have been the smartest person in Limbuss but he knew the dangers of Avaricia. He knew that all but the strongest in mind would succumb to the locust-like hunger for money. That the pursuit of wealth would prove stronger than the desire for self-preservation. During his time at the circus he had seen hundreds succumb to its power; trapped in a mire of greed and neediness. Once stuck, it was almost impossible to escape. Most people lost themselves in the bottomless pit of greed, the hunger in their bellies never satisfied. They were so busy trying to get rich they simply couldn't enjoy what they already had.
Ignoring The Giant's warning, Margie opened the door and peered outside. "There's nothing out there, Giant? What's gotten into you?"
Slowly, The Giant peered out of the caravan and sighed. Margie was right. There was no one. In fact the circus seemed deserted.
Grandma Doyle studied The Giant's hand through a magnifying glass with her one good eye. "Well," she said eventually studying his expression through the same magnifying glass, "I can't see any cuts. You ain't been doin' away with no body I hope!"
Grandma Doyle winked at Margie, but The Giant remained silent. Vacant almost. "You ain't been making sausage meat out of my prize midgets have you, eh?" Grandma Doyle let out a chuckle this time, but The Giant held out his hands, which were once again covered in blood.
"I didn't do nothin' but I should've done." He looked at Margie with tears in his eyes. "What would Auguste of said? I'm nothin' but a stupid Giant, that's what I am. A stupid, weak, foolish Giant."
Margie and Grandma Doyle exchanged confused glances.
Suddenly The Giant stood up, banging his head on the ceiling. Ignoring the dent he had made in the ceiling, he hunched forward and made his way over to the window where he cautiously pulled back the curtain. "We got a journey to make, do you remember, Margie? I gotta find my Lilly and Milly."
Neither Grandma Doyle nor Margie had the chance to react because they were interrupted by a heavy banging on the door.
Grandma Doyle motioned for The Giant and Margie to be quiet. Something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was definitely a knotty feeling in the air.
Grandma Doyle's instincts were correct. On her door step stood the same lobster/human hybrid that had visited The Giant.
"Can I help you?" asked Grandma Doyle eyeballing the great lobster claw; the sound of money ringing in her ears.
"Debatable," replied the lobster man, peering over her shoulder into the wagon. "I’m looking for this person." He handed a crumpled photograph of Margie to Grandma Doyle. "I’ve been informed she’s here."
"It’s nobody’s business who I have in my wagon," murmured Grandma Doyle, pulling the door as close to her body as possible. "And who might you be?"
The lobster man pulled out a card from the inside pocket of his long leather jacket and handed it to Grandma Doyle. "My job is to ensure that everyone who enters Limbuss is both expected and accounted for. This young woman, Margie, isn't on both accounts.
"Well you won’t find her here," said Grandma Doyle. "And don't think for a second that you can trick me with that phony paperwork. You're nothing to do with Torquere. I know your sort; you're just a common Feeler. No better than a Spy Fly."
She tried to close the door but her attempt was thwarted by the lobster man who used his claw-like arm as a wedge.
"If I discover you’re lying, I will come back for you," he whispered. With almost super human speed his arm shot out and snatched a passing fly. The fly buzzed frantically before being crushed between the hybrid's powerful pincers. "We have ways of finding out."
As he stepped away from the door Grandma Doyle could see two tall dark Shadow Herders in the distance. Her heart sank. The Shadow Herders were Limbuss' demonic minions, used mainly as guards, gatekeepers and law enforcers. Few people had seen these creatures up close other than those who had been dragged off kicking and screaming and they, of course, were rarely ever seen again. Those that had survived a close encounter with the figures reported a terrifying and frightful appearance, with drooling mouths and clawed hands.
"Nope," said Grandma Doyle defiantly, "I haven’t seen her. But if you or your pets over there wish to join the circus you’d be very welcome. We’re always on the lookout for more freaks."
The lobster man withdrew his claw and stepped back watching intently as Grandma Doyle deliberately closed the door very slowly.
Across the way, peering out of a tiny crack in his curtains, was Douglas the Dough Boy watching closely as the events quickly unfolded over at Grandma Doyle’s caravan. Frantically tugging and twisting the skin on his cheeks, he was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.
The Scorpion
Grandma Doyle paced her caravan floor, tapping her forehead with her clenched fist. Every now and again she shook her head as though trying to rid her mind of certain thoughts.
"Who was at the door?" asked Margie. "Why won't you tell me?"
"It was no one you need to worry about," said Grandma Doyle, her mind on other things. "Here," she threw a towel at Margie. "Hold that against The Giant's hand until the bleeding stops. I don't want it dripping on my floor, you hear me?"
Grandma Doyle was anxious. She had waited her whole life for someone like Margie, someone who had the Midas touch. With Margie she had achieved a wealth beyond her wildest imaginings. But she had also grown to love her like her own. The visit from the lobster man had filled her with an emotion that she had long since forgotten; an emotion that could only be understood by a mother.
She sidled over to corner of her caravan and glanced over her shoulder to ensure that no one was watching her then she pressed her palm against one of the panels. It flicked open to reveal a rolled up piece of paper in a small hollow. She unrolled the document and stared at it. It read:
URGENT! LARGE REWARD OFFERED for the expeditious delivery of Margie May Langley to the Darkest of All Places. Proof of completion required. 200,000 silver pieces to be collected personally from The Grande Emporium, Limbuss City.
The notice contained an image of Margie in a place that Grandma Doyle didn't recognise and some small print that Grandma Doyle was unable to read on account of her only having one eye. Was the unwelcome hybrid something to do with the bounty she wondered. It would make sense that people wanted to find her. She herself had found the poster on her doorstep only hours after Margie had arrived at the Circus. She hadn't questioned why it was there. Or, in fact, who had put it there. All she knew was that she'd wanted to keep Margie for as long as possible.
Now though, she knew it was time. Rather than placing the notice back in her wall, she folded it up and tucked it in her bosom. Her mind was made up. She wanted to escort her darling Margie to the Darkest of All Places - she owed her that much - and she knew just the person to help her do it. Black Adam! It had been several years since they'd last met and she hoped that he had forgotten the details of their final, fateful, quarrel. It didn't matter anyway. He could never resist a reward and she could bite her tongue for half of the reward. 'Who knows', she thought, 'maybe things will be different this time.'
The pensive silence of the caravan was shattered by a desperate scream from outside. Margie and Grandma Doyle reached the window together just in time to see Dougie the Dough Boy and Magnus the Magnificent Magnet Man being dragged away as though by some great invisible hand. Their arms and legs thrashed and clawed at the ground in a desperate attempt to escape. In just a fraction of a moment they had gone; as though sucked into the ground and swallowed up.
Grandma Doyle raced outside but it was too late. The pair was nowhere to be found. A strange silence hung in the air, as though every living thing in the immediate vicinity – the grass, the trees, the air – was holding its breath, too afraid to make a sound.
"It were the Shadow Herders," said a shaky voice.
The Giant was peering out the caravan looking suddenly quite enormous in the tiny doorframe.
"The Shadow Herders?" cried Grandma Doyle clutching her face. "But why? They don't get reassigned unless they've done something bad."
"Maybe they did!" said The Giant tugging unnecessarily at the towel on his hand.
"They were two of the sweetest freaks I’ve ever known," retorted Grandma Doyle angrily. "They wouldn’t hurt a fly. I don’t understand it. It's just not possible. Oh, they must be terrified. We have to do something."
"Where have they been taken?" asked Margie.
"Somewhere terrible. Oh, it’s just too much to bear. It’s a dark place; a violent place. It’s awful. Just awful." And with that a tear fell down her cheek.
"Who reassigns them?"
"Oh child, there’s so much you don’t know. There’s nothing you can do that
they
won’t see. Their eyes are everywhere; in the trees, in the sky, in the air all around us. There are no secrets in Limbuss; not even your thoughts are secret. You can’t get away with anything here. You may
think
you have but it always catches up with you."
"How long will they stay?"
"As long as it takes. It's all just one big game of snakes and ladders. You do good you go up ... you do bad you go down. Problem is, it's easier to go down; you know what I'm saying? Gravity!"
"You still have me!" whispered Margie placing her hand on Grandma Doyle's shoulder.
A voice interrupted them.
"No she doesn't. You ain't welcome here!"
It was Mary.
Margie was taken quite by surprise. "What do you mean?"
Sitting awkwardly in her wooden wheelchair, Mary’s body shook with rage and pain. She was clearly fighting something within ... couldn't bring herself to meet anybody's eyes. She scratched her ear nervously and her cheek twitched erratically.
Grandma Doyle was thoroughly bemused by Mary’s strange behaviour. Perhaps she had also just witnessed her friends being dragged away. Maybe she too was in shock. With so many questions that needed answering, she beckoned Mary over.
"Come here child," she called out kindly
Mary ignored her and repeated what she had already said, only this time with more anger than before.
"You 'eard me. You ain't welcome here."
The Giant and Margie glanced at Grandma Doyle. Something wasn’t right here. Had Mary been possessed by something - or someone? Was she under some kind of spell? She couldn’t be sure. What
was
certain was that Mary was behaving in a most peculiar manner.
"Why don’t we go back to my caravan and have a lovely cup of something warm," suggested Grandma Doyle cheerfully trying hard not to betray her true feelings.
"You can’t make me," snapped Mary. "The others were right. You don’t care for none of us!"
"Child," scolded Grandma Doyle. "How can you say that? I rescued you from a muddy pond when you were two years old. You’d been thrown in there to live with the frogs and newts. I brought you here, cleaned you up and raised you as one of my own."
"You never gave me no diamond ring," she spat.
The truth suddenly dawned on Grandma Doyle and her eyes narrowed to slits.
"You want my money? You want the jewels? Go on, have them." Grandma Doyle took a key out of the small shoulder bag she carried with her and threw it at Mary, hitting her in the face. "You know where they're kept. Take the bloody lot while I go and find out what happened to your friends. You have no shame!"
Mary quickly tucked the key down the side of her wheelchair."You're a fool to pity them," she hissed. "You want to know why they were taken?" Mary's voice was shaking with anger. "They killed Tatty."
Grandma Doyle laughed. "You've gone mad?"
The Giant turned away as though distracted by something in the sky.
"Yea, you saw it didn't you!" said Mary to The Giant.
"Did you see something, Giant?" asked Margie.
The Giant returned his gaze in Margie's direction, his face fraught with worry. "I seen them all kill Tatty. Beat him when his back were turned too."
"Didn't do nowt to help him though did you!" spat Mary.
"I don't believe you," stammered Grandma Doyle, unable to comprehend the news. "Why would you kill him?"
"Because he was going to call Torquere's henchmen ... to come and get rid of
her
." She pointed at Margie contemptuously.
"Yea, you wanted to kill her with your own bare hands, di'n't you! I heard you with my own ears!" said The Giant.
"Yes, I did!" said Mary almost triumphantly.
"You evil, vicious, malicious little vole you," cried Grandma Doyle. "How could I have been so wrong about you? I should have let you perish in that pond you greedy, ungrateful toad!"
Grandma Doyle reached out to slap Mary's face when a terrific hissing noise stopped her in her tracks. She signalled for everyone to remain quiet and still. A few seconds later the hissing sound resumed followed by a loud scuttling sound. Mary dropped the knife and looked about her fearfully.
"It’s the Shadow Herders. They’re coming for me," she shrieked.
The Giant and Margie clung onto each other as the noise grew closer and a dark cloud cast a huge shadow over the circus. Suddenly, in a flurry of movement and a loud screeching sound, it came into view; the most terrifying thing Margie had ever seen; a giant mechanical scorpion towering above them. The great mechanical beast had been delicately and painstakingly crafted in breathtaking detail and yet in its entirety it filled Margie and The Giant with horror.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Grandma Doyle, her eyes open wide. "It's not a Shadow Herder at all, it's ..."
Before she could finish her sentence, the scorpion’s tail flicked forward jabbing its stinger directly into Grandma Doyle’s neck. As her body hit the floor, one of the scorpion’s great pincers snatched her up. At the same instant, an entire segment on the scorpion’s back lifted with a great hiss and a cloud of steam before Grandma Doyle’s limp body was thrown inside.
Margie and The Giant were rooted to the spot, unable to move. Would it come for them next? They had no idea. Should they run? In their fawn-like state of alarm they were quite simply too petrified to think.
The scorpion now turned and inched slowly towards Mary who was also frozen with fear. Just as the scorpion was about to pounce, it stopped and shuffled backwards. The flicker of relief that crossed Mary’s face was short-lived when it became apparent
why
the scorpion had retreated. In a flash, two Shadow Herders grabbed Mary and dragged her off into an unseen hole in the roots of a nearby tree. Mary’s screams were drowned out by the sound of the scorpion hissing and screeching.
Margie and The Giant had seen enough. "Run" screamed Margie and so they did. At first they ran in no particular direction – they just wanted to get away from the great machine which was quickly on their tail. Past the wagons they ran, past the trailers, past the exhibition tents, intermittently ducking and diving into a crack or a crevice to try and shake off this giant mechanical predator.
In those moments when the two of them were hiding amidst the desert shrubs and boulders, holding their breaths and praying the monster couldn’t smell their fear, Margie began to wonder what kind of world this was with its Shadow Herders and deadly scorpions. How far would it go to track them down? And would it kill them too?
She needn't have worried. The scorpion quickly grew bored. Margie and The Giant listened in numb silence as it scuttled off into the desert and together the two of them sat and gathered their thoughts.
It was Margie who eventually broke the silence. "Can people die in Limbuss, Giant? I mean, can people die here if they're already ... you know ... deceased!"
"I dunno," replied The Giant with a shrug. "Never thought nothin' of it!" He picked up a stone and threw it irritably at a nearby boulder. "Best we don't find out."
Margie gazed at The Giant then surveyed the desert around her and for the first time since her arrival in Limbuss, Margie thought about the possibility that she really was actually quite dead. "C’mon," she said resting her hand gently on The Giant's knee and looking up into the night sky. "We’ve got a long journey ahead of us."