The Collector of Remarkable Stories Page 13

  And truth be told, neither could Margie. What was happening to her perplexed her. She had no more of an idea what was happening to her than those who came to look at her. In fact her back didn’t feel too different to her at all; maybe slightly colder. And the pain, although getting worse, was still bearable. It was something she could live with ... for now at least.

  Anyway, it wasn't her back that frightened her; it was whatever it was that stalked her; that breathed down her neck and whispered in her ear. It was a dark entity, this much she had come to realise. And she knew that the entity and her back were inextricably linked. A thought had planted in Margie's brain. Was it possible that she had done something bad in a previous life? Something so bad that she was being haunted by it? She closed her eyes and tapped her head a couple of times. The thought was definitely anchored in her brain ... but to what she just couldn't recall.

  That, it would seem, wasn't the only thing she had forgotten.

  The more money Margie made and the more famous she became, the more she forgot about her journey and why she was making it. The Big Invisible was always there, breathing down her neck, but as Margie was swept up in the raging rivers of fame, so too was the sense of disquiet she felt about it. As the waves of adulation and success grew bigger and stronger so the uneasiness grew weaker until it was eventually washed away.

  With the fear gone (and giddy with her new found success) she forgot about her journey and why she was making it. Her motivation to reach the Darkest of All Places was gone, replaced with excitement at her burgeoning celebrity. Strangers, desperate to jump on the Margie bandwagon, threw money at her. They fought amongst themselves to be her friend so they could brag about it to anyone who would listen. They wanted to bathe in her glory for she had everything they coveted: fame, wealth and talent.

  Of course, Margie’s sudden and meteoric rise to fame hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the circus gang, particularly The Giant. From a distance, he watched as Grandma Doyle fussed over Margie, bestowing her with gifts of gold, jewellery and clothes. He had seen how Grandma Doyle's eyes lit up when Margie entered the room and how they laughed and giggled over shared secrets.

  The Giant thought he ought to be angry but Grandma Doyle had been good to him over the years so he held his tongue.

  Never-the-less, he felt neglected. Unable to reach Margie and unwilling to compete with Grandma Doyle's munificence he spent all of his time in his wagon doing nothing very much at all except worry. He'd long since quit trying to make money from his show. No one came to see him anymore. Tall people were so old hat now. And they certainly couldn't turn things into ice!

  And then of course there was the small matter of the other freaks. The crowds were no longer interested in their shows either, which made them twitchy and uncomfortable. No crowds equalled no work. And no work equalled no money. If that wasn't bad enough, they'd seen the beautiful caravan that Grandma Doyle had bought for Margie. Part trolley bus, part fairy-tale castle, the two storey wagon with its brass turrets and ornate balconies was the nail in the coffin of kindness as far as the circus freaks were concerned.

  Over the years they’d seen many people come and go as their disabilities, deformities and anomalies had come in and out of fashion. Only a core remained including Mary The Human Mermaid, Douglas the Dough Boy, Magnus The Magnificent Magnet Man, Tatty the Tattooed Man, a variety of midgets (of various sizes); and a hairy child. But none of them had bewitched Grandma Doyle the way Margie had.

  And certainly none of them had ever come close to destroying Le Cirque de L'extraordinaire the way Margie had.

  They were angry. Understandably so. Their beloved Grandma Doyle had failed to notice that her circus was falling apart around her ears; that her loyal band of merry freaks were all starving. And there was only one person to blame.

  It was Magnus the Magnificent Magnet Man who called the secret meeting at the far end of the showground with Tatty, Mary and Douglas the Dough Boy.

  "Magnus, this had better be good," grumbled a bleary-eyed Tatty. He wasn’t an early riser.

  "I was right about the girl," he hissed, his eyes narrowed into thin slits.

  He peeled back his sleeve and there stuck to his magnetic arm was a small mechanical Spy Fly.

  "Found it snooping around - and guess what! Tell them what you know Spy Fly."

  Torquere's Spy Flies were renowned for their ability to spy on people unnoticed but not so well regarded for their ability to keep a secret. Luckily for Magnus this unfortunate little mole had flown a little too close to his magnetic field and was instantly immobilised. With no way to escape, he didn't take much persuading and quickly imparted all the information he had.

  "The Great and Mighty Torquere has offered a reward," he said in a small, tinny voice, "for information leading to the capture and return of Margie May Langley to Limbuss City."

  Mary, Douglas and Tatty gasped sharply in unison.

  "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 creatu
re 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.