checked that the man was still breathing, then concealed him in the shadows. Steptoe trotted up to his side. “I found a bluejacket standing watch at the back,” he said grinning. “He’s now taking an unplanned nap.”
Turk glanced both ways to ensure they were alone, then crossed the street with Steptoe at his shoulder. “The bluejackets make me think Vittorio has a hand in whatever is going on here,” Steptoe said softly.
“You’re probably right,” Turk replied, careful not to mention anything about Melba’s involvement with Vittorio and Maddox. He and Steptoe glanced at each other; then Turk kicked the bakery door. Unlocked, it slammed back on creaky hinges. An oil lamp burned low at the back of the room, spreading a pool of light across a moaning figure tied to a chair.
“Is that Maddox?” Steptoe whispered.
“Looks like it,” Turk replied. Neither of them entered until they had scanned the room for places where an assailant might be hiding. Bare of goods, the wooden slat shelves resembled sun-bleached bones in the eerie light. When Turk was sure no one lay in wait, he went to Maddox and crouched in front of him. The old man’s head strained back, the tendons in his neck taut with agony. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth. The fetid stink of evil hung around him like a shroud.
Steptoe inscribed an Earth Blessing in the air with his finger as protection. His power wasn’t as strong as Turk’s and he had less ability to resist Foul Jinns. “Can the old man be saved?”
Turk concentrated and saw the taint of the Foul Jinn as a dark stain around Maddox. “The Jinn that’s possessed him isn’t big, but it’s spread throughout his body. It will take weeks to cleanse him. We mustn’t touch him. Go to the monastery and fetch some Brothers to take him to the chapel infirmary.”
A noise behind a door to the left drew Turk’s attention. He signaled for Steptoe to leave and fetch help for Maddox, then he crossed the room. A metal spoon pushed through the door handle acted as a lock. He slid the spoon free, stepped back, and kicked the door open, expecting someone to jump out at him.
Nothing moved inside the warm, stuffy storeroom. Bread tins on shelves glinted dully in the light of a single candle. He surveyed the stacked boxes and empty bread trays and noticed three boys huddled together in a corner between some sacks of flour.
A strange sense of awareness came over him as he realized he was getting a glimpse into the life Melba had lived until two months ago. These three boys looked younger than her, only thirteen or fourteen, and must be like family to her. It made him want to take care of them. “I’m a friend of your master’s,” he said gently. “What happened here?”
One of the boys stood up and came forward barefoot, skinny, and dirty in his ripped breeches and jacket. Had Melba really been this filthy when he found her? An image of her in the blue silk dress with her golden hair a gleaming halo above her pretty face sneaked into his mind like a thief stealing his concentration. He made himself focus on the boy who had snatched off his cap and ducked his head deferentially. “A bluejacket was ’ere, sir. He locked us in.”
Turk guessed the boys hadn’t seen the state of poor old Maddox or they’d be panicking. “What did the sailor want, lad?”
The boy turned and cast an uncertain glance at his friends, but neither offered any help. “He was looking for Mel, sir.”
Although Turk had expected this answer, it still sent a cold chill through him. “Did he say what he wanted with Mel?”
“No, sir. Not to us, anyhow. Maybe Master Maddox…” It must have occurred to the boy that Maddox should be answering these questions because his startled gaze shot to the door. “Is me master all right?”
Turk heaved a sigh, his heart going out to the scruffy tykes. He beckoned the other two and they warily came forward and lined up in front of him. “Give me your
Turk glanced both ways to ensure they were alone, then crossed the street with Steptoe at his shoulder. “The bluejackets make me think Vittorio has a hand in whatever is going on here,” Steptoe said softly.
“You’re probably right,” Turk replied, careful not to mention anything about Melba’s involvement with Vittorio and Maddox. He and Steptoe glanced at each other; then Turk kicked the bakery door. Unlocked, it slammed back on creaky hinges. An oil lamp burned low at the back of the room, spreading a pool of light across a moaning figure tied to a chair.
“Is that Maddox?” Steptoe whispered.
“Looks like it,” Turk replied. Neither of them entered until they had scanned the room for places where an assailant might be hiding. Bare of goods, the wooden slat shelves resembled sun-bleached bones in the eerie light. When Turk was sure no one lay in wait, he went to Maddox and crouched in front of him. The old man’s head strained back, the tendons in his neck taut with agony. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth. The fetid stink of evil hung around him like a shroud.
Steptoe inscribed an Earth Blessing in the air with his finger as protection. His power wasn’t as strong as Turk’s and he had less ability to resist Foul Jinns. “Can the old man be saved?”
Turk concentrated and saw the taint of the Foul Jinn as a dark stain around Maddox. “The Jinn that’s possessed him isn’t big, but it’s spread throughout his body. It will take weeks to cleanse him. We mustn’t touch him. Go to the monastery and fetch some Brothers to take him to the chapel infirmary.”
A noise behind a door to the left drew Turk’s attention. He signaled for Steptoe to leave and fetch help for Maddox, then he crossed the room. A metal spoon pushed through the door handle acted as a lock. He slid the spoon free, stepped back, and kicked the door open, expecting someone to jump out at him.
Nothing moved inside the warm, stuffy storeroom. Bread tins on shelves glinted dully in the light of a single candle. He surveyed the stacked boxes and empty bread trays and noticed three boys huddled together in a corner between some sacks of flour.
A strange sense of awareness came over him as he realized he was getting a glimpse into the life Melba had lived until two months ago. These three boys looked younger than her, only thirteen or fourteen, and must be like family to her. It made him want to take care of them. “I’m a friend of your master’s,” he said gently. “What happened here?”
One of the boys stood up and came forward barefoot, skinny, and dirty in his ripped breeches and jacket. Had Melba really been this filthy when he found her? An image of her in the blue silk dress with her golden hair a gleaming halo above her pretty face sneaked into his mind like a thief stealing his concentration. He made himself focus on the boy who had snatched off his cap and ducked his head deferentially. “A bluejacket was ’ere, sir. He locked us in.”
Turk guessed the boys hadn’t seen the state of poor old Maddox or they’d be panicking. “What did the sailor want, lad?”
The boy turned and cast an uncertain glance at his friends, but neither offered any help. “He was looking for Mel, sir.”
Although Turk had expected this answer, it still sent a cold chill through him. “Did he say what he wanted with Mel?”
“No, sir. Not to us, anyhow. Maybe Master Maddox…” It must have occurred to the boy that Maddox should be answering these questions because his startled gaze shot to the door. “Is me master all right?”
Turk heaved a sigh, his heart going out to the scruffy tykes. He beckoned the other two and they warily came forward and lined up in front of him. “Give me your
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