scrambled up the bars. The other rats joined it, in a discordant chorus of high-pitched cries. The rapping behind the table started up again.
Rapple took a leather gauntlet from his pocket and slipped it over his hand. Then he opened the cage door, thrust his hand inside and grabbed the rat by its tail. It dangled upside down, arching its back and screeching, its teeth snapping, trying to bite Rapple’s arm.
‘Toss it over,’ said Baines. ‘Quick, man.’
The rapping grew lower and faster.
‘Here you are, Abigail,’ shouted Rapple. He threw the empty birdcage into the dark corner.
A giant, metal creature leapt out from behind the table and caught the cage with two claw-like appendages.
Julius jumped, nearly falling backwards.
The creature looked like a cross between a giant praying mantis and a spider.
Baines held one of the candles hanging nearby and took a few cautious steps towards the creature.‘There you are, Abigail, my dear. That’ll keep you quiet for a bit.’
‘Let’s get to work,’ said Rapple. He stepped back and knocked his shoulder against one of the cages. Immediately, orchid tendrils stretched through the bars, reaching for his face. Rapple flinched. ‘Bleeding things,’ he said, as he scrambled to keep his hold on the rat.
‘Watch where you’re going,’ said Baines.
‘It nearly had me, that time,’ said Rapple. He shook the rat to subdue it, then poured some of liquid from the bubbling bulb into a beaker.
The praying mantis creature turned the birdcage over and over in its claws, looking at it from every angle.
Julius wiped the clean circle a little wider. By the light of Baines’s candle he could see Abigail clearly now.
She was almost twice as tall as a man and unlike any creature he had ever seen. One claw was made of kitchen forks and the other of knives. Her head was shaped like the muzzle of a dog. It was made of razors laid over each other like the scales of a fish. Her mouth was filled with razors too, forming long sharp teeth.
For eyes she had the casings of pocketwatches. Red light glowed behind the glass. Her head was fixed to a long neck of kitchen taps, washers and lengthsof pipe. The creature turned the birdcage around, checking it minutely. Another claw came up from behind the table. It was topped with five small mirrors, which flicked open, like a hand stretching its fingers, and fanned themselves around the cage.
‘She likes it, Mr Rapple,’ said Baines with relief.
Rapple was not listening. He picked up a knife from the table.
‘We might as well use this one,’ he said, looking at the rat hanging from his gloved hand.
He swung it by the tail, hitting it against the edge of the table. Then he sawed its head off and held it over the bubbling beaker. Blood poured from the rat like wine from a bottle. When it stopped Rapple wrung the carcass out like a dishcloth to get a few last drops. Julius felt his stomach lurch.
‘All done,’ said Rapple, as he tossed the dead rat into a bucket under the table. The liquid in the beaker frothed and steamed for a few seconds then became still. Rapple held it up to the light and swirled the blood mixture inside.
‘It’s a good batch, Mr Baines,’ he said, admiring his gruesome work.
Baines was not listening. He stepped closer to Abigail, watching her examine the birdcage. Her red eyes flicked from one mirror to the next.
With the candlelight nearer to her, the shadows on the wall showed more of her form: a long curvedbackbone with four long, leg-like appendages, bent at the knees and all jagged and haphazardly made of any piece of iron, tin or brass you could find in a kitchen or a tool shed.
A movement on the table brought Julius’s eyes to a much smaller creature. It was scrabbling on a chain nailed to the table. It was too far away for him to be sure, but Julius thought it might have been made from carpentry nails and shards of tea tins. It made a clinking sound as it strained and squirmed on the table.
Rapple took a leather gauntlet from his pocket and slipped it over his hand. Then he opened the cage door, thrust his hand inside and grabbed the rat by its tail. It dangled upside down, arching its back and screeching, its teeth snapping, trying to bite Rapple’s arm.
‘Toss it over,’ said Baines. ‘Quick, man.’
The rapping grew lower and faster.
‘Here you are, Abigail,’ shouted Rapple. He threw the empty birdcage into the dark corner.
A giant, metal creature leapt out from behind the table and caught the cage with two claw-like appendages.
Julius jumped, nearly falling backwards.
The creature looked like a cross between a giant praying mantis and a spider.
Baines held one of the candles hanging nearby and took a few cautious steps towards the creature.‘There you are, Abigail, my dear. That’ll keep you quiet for a bit.’
‘Let’s get to work,’ said Rapple. He stepped back and knocked his shoulder against one of the cages. Immediately, orchid tendrils stretched through the bars, reaching for his face. Rapple flinched. ‘Bleeding things,’ he said, as he scrambled to keep his hold on the rat.
‘Watch where you’re going,’ said Baines.
‘It nearly had me, that time,’ said Rapple. He shook the rat to subdue it, then poured some of liquid from the bubbling bulb into a beaker.
The praying mantis creature turned the birdcage over and over in its claws, looking at it from every angle.
Julius wiped the clean circle a little wider. By the light of Baines’s candle he could see Abigail clearly now.
She was almost twice as tall as a man and unlike any creature he had ever seen. One claw was made of kitchen forks and the other of knives. Her head was shaped like the muzzle of a dog. It was made of razors laid over each other like the scales of a fish. Her mouth was filled with razors too, forming long sharp teeth.
For eyes she had the casings of pocketwatches. Red light glowed behind the glass. Her head was fixed to a long neck of kitchen taps, washers and lengthsof pipe. The creature turned the birdcage around, checking it minutely. Another claw came up from behind the table. It was topped with five small mirrors, which flicked open, like a hand stretching its fingers, and fanned themselves around the cage.
‘She likes it, Mr Rapple,’ said Baines with relief.
Rapple was not listening. He picked up a knife from the table.
‘We might as well use this one,’ he said, looking at the rat hanging from his gloved hand.
He swung it by the tail, hitting it against the edge of the table. Then he sawed its head off and held it over the bubbling beaker. Blood poured from the rat like wine from a bottle. When it stopped Rapple wrung the carcass out like a dishcloth to get a few last drops. Julius felt his stomach lurch.
‘All done,’ said Rapple, as he tossed the dead rat into a bucket under the table. The liquid in the beaker frothed and steamed for a few seconds then became still. Rapple held it up to the light and swirled the blood mixture inside.
‘It’s a good batch, Mr Baines,’ he said, admiring his gruesome work.
Baines was not listening. He stepped closer to Abigail, watching her examine the birdcage. Her red eyes flicked from one mirror to the next.
With the candlelight nearer to her, the shadows on the wall showed more of her form: a long curvedbackbone with four long, leg-like appendages, bent at the knees and all jagged and haphazardly made of any piece of iron, tin or brass you could find in a kitchen or a tool shed.
A movement on the table brought Julius’s eyes to a much smaller creature. It was scrabbling on a chain nailed to the table. It was too far away for him to be sure, but Julius thought it might have been made from carpentry nails and shards of tea tins. It made a clinking sound as it strained and squirmed on the table.
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