Elephants and Castles Read online

Samuel and Mary raced up the fine oak staircase. Their two year old sister, Alice, climbed slowly behind.

  'I’m having this room!' declared Samuel, winning the race to the guest room overlooking the street. He dived head first onto the four-poster double bed and sank into the deep covers. The cat sprinted from out from underneath.

  'That’s not fair!' protested Mary, I’m older than you! I should choose!'

  'You’ll ‘ave to fight me for it!' shouted Samuel and knelt up on the bed holding both fists out towards his sister.

  Mary shook her head.

  Alice made it to the top of stairs. She found a box of candles and happily posted them between the banister rails, listening for the breaking sound as they hit the floor below.

  'Fancy Miss Pewtersmith changing her mind like that!' said Mary, 'Who would believe it?'

  Samuel smirked. 'Yeh, fancy!'

  'Sam… Samuel, you didn’t... you didn't play one of your tricks on her? You didn’t, did you?'

  The smirk broke into a broad grin.

  'Oh no! You did, didn’t you?'

  Samuel nodded. 'I just said Mister Jarvis wanted some more stuff an' if she didn't get it he'd sack 'er!'

  'She’ll kill you if she finds out Samuel! I mean it, she will!' Mary was laughing but then the humour drained from her face. 'An’ you know what else you’ve done, you bloody idiot? You’ve kept ‘er ‘ere - with us! We would ‘ave got rid of ‘er and you stopped ‘er leaving! You stupid ass!' Mary picked up a book from the side of the bed and hurled it at Samuel.

  'Serves 'er right any'ow!' gloated Samuel.

  'But what if Dad tells 'er that's not true. She'll go loopy! You’ll get a hell of a floggin’... an’ prob’ly me too!' She walked across to the window and looked at the busy street below. 'We gotta get down and meet her before she gets back. She can’t find out what you did.'

  In the drawing room Elizabeth heard none of the noise. She stared out of the window at the wealthy and powerful as they escaped the gathering dark clouds. On the sideboard next to her was the bottle of potion left by Mister. Jarvis. It lay on its side empty. James walked behind his wife and stretched his long spindly fingers around her waist, squeezing her tightly against his body.

  'What’s to come of us James? What’s going to happen to Mary and Samuel, and little Alice?'

  'We’ll get what we need then I'll seal every door and every window in this house. No one will come in and no one will leave 'til this is over. We’ll be all right. God will protect us.' He squeezed her again.

  Mary broke his grip and turned to look at his pale and haggard face. 'You really believe that James? You really think we can live through this?'

  'I’ll make sure we do. I have Mister Jarvis’s weapons. If anyone tries to bring that infection in here then they won’t last long. I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep us safe Lizzie. We'll get through this; you mark my words we will. We’ll hide ourselves away 'til this whole thing’s over then come out like squirrels in the spring.' He forced a smile.

  Elizabeth bit her lip and looked enviously at the departing traffic.

  Samuel and Mary stood at the roadside awaiting the cook’s return.

  'You’ve done it this time Samuel, you really have.' Mary shook her head in disbelief. 'She’ll be so angry if she knows what you did. She’ll flog you to death she will.'

  After ten minutes Miss Pewtersmith appeared down the street, struggling with a sack of flour over one shoulder and a bulky paper-wrapped package under the other arm.

  'Come on! We got to speak to her before she goes inside.' They walked hurriedly to meet her.

  ''Ere, 'elp me with this child!' Miss Pewtersmith shoved the package into Mary’s arms. 'An' you boy, take this.' She leant forward and allowed the sack of flour to fall onto Samuel. His knees buckled under the weight and he crumpled to the floor. 'Oh thank God for that. They weigh a ton. Come on, ‘urry 'up. Let's get these loaded up. We don't wanna keep 'im waitin'. You need to build some muscles boy.' She marched on towards the house.

  'Miss. Pewtersmith, 'ang on …' Mary’s voice trembled, 'It’s….it’s the Master, Miss Pewtersmith, 'e wouldn’t wait. He…'e said you was too long. Said 'e’d ... have to find another cook in the country. I’m sorry Miss P.'

  Her bright red cheeks drained in an instant. She stared open mouthed at Mary. 'No, no, can’t be! I was real quick. I ran half the way I did!'

  She dashed to the gate, now closed and locked. She held onto the iron bars and gawked through in disbelief. No horse, no carriage, no master of the house. She let out a piercing wail and ran on to the street. The traffic was heavy but only moving at brisk a walking pace. She ran alongside the carriages, calling for Mister Jarvis, for Lancaster. She peered in through carriage windows but all she saw were bemused, unfamiliar faces. Miss Pewtersmith wasn’t built for running and after fifty yards or so she could go no further. Dejected and gasping for breath she collapsed at the roadside. Now she too was stuck in the city, to face whatever God decided to send.

  James called Mary and Samuel into the drawing room. There was an urgency in his voice. 'I need you to run some errands. We need enough food to lock ourselves away in this house for months.'

  'But Dad, Miss P has come back. She's brought more stuff. It’s downstairs.' Samuel wasn’t keen on the idea of carting supplies in the hot sun.

  'We could be locked up in here for a long time Samuel. We need all we can get.' He rubbed the top of Samuel's head fondly. 'Mary, go to Mister Wiseman’s and show him this list.' He handed Mary a list of supplies drawn up by Jarvis before he left. 'And if the credit is no good use this.' He passed her the small leather purse. 'Only use it if you’ve got absolutely no choice. It’s all we've got. Look after it well.'

  Mary nodded then pushed the purse firmly into her pinafore pocket.

  'Samuel you go too.' James wrapped an arm around each of them and pulled them in. 'Don’t linger. Get what we need and get straight back here. Whatever you do, keep away from anyone who is sick. Do you hear me? Keep well away.'

  They both nodded.

  'When you're back we'll lock this place up like a fortress. We'll be snug and safe in here until it's all over. Now be quick.'

  Mary and Samuel darted along the street, dodging between pedestrians, pushing past bystanders, nipping between horses and carriages. Howls of complaint followed them. They rounded a corner into Market Street. Samuel had to pause for breath; it was hard work in the summer heat.

  Mary walked back to him, hands on hips, sucking in the hot afternoon air. 'Can’t keep up, eh?'

  'Faster than you!' puffed Samuel. 'You run like a...three-legged donkey.'

  'What? I can out-run you any day!'

  'You think you can.'

  'Right then, I’ll race ya and prove it! Come on!'

  Samuel was still bent over, hands rested on thighs, as Mary sprinted away.

  'Wait! I wasn’t ready!'

  'Come on slow coach!'

  Mary was still gloating over her shoulder at Samuel as she took off. She didn’t notice the tall dark figure ahead of her until she crashed into him, bounced off and landed on her back on the road.

  'Stupid girl!'

  Mary looked up at a bearded face scowling down on her.

  'You should take more care who you run into you.' The man swept his oily, shoulder-length black hair away from his face.

  'I’m sorry, Sir.' pleaded Mary. 'I was in a hurry, running errands.' As she spoke she felt the pocket of her dress for the purse. It was gone. 'Samuel, Samuel! The money! I’ve lost it!' She span around desperately searching the ground for the leather purse. 'Samuel, quick!'

  'Are you looking for this?'

  The man tapped his leather boot. Beneath it was the purse. Mary lunged forwards to grab it.

  'Oh thank you sir.'

  He kept his weight firmly on the purse. Mary tugged on the string.

  'Please Sir, it’s mine, for my errands.'

  He crouched down and spoke with his face inches from Mary's. 'I
can do more for you with this than any shopkeeper can, my dear.' His breath reeked of decaying teeth and stale alcohol. He seized the purse and jumped to his feet. 'The name is Thomas Shipton, the last in a long line of great prophets!' he announced, swinging his arm out towards the house behind him. On the door hung a wooden sign with a crudely carved picture of a hag-like woman sitting at table. 'I am the finest and truest of all the Tellers in London. Only I can tell if you will live through this terrible time!'

  'Please Sir, just my purse!'

  'Wait girl!' he snapped and then went on. 'And if by chance we find that fate has cruel plans in store for you, only I can give you…no sell you...the trinkets to ward off evil and keep you safe.'

  As he spoke, Samuel crept behind him. He reached out and snatched the purse from Shipton’s hand. 'Mary, run!' he screamed.

  But Shipton was quick. He seized Samuel's wrist, swung him around and hurled him like a sling-shot onto the steps of his house. Samuel scrambled to his feet as Shipton bore down on him. He staggered backwards up the three steps towards the door until he could go no further. Shipton's grimy hand reached towards Samuel's throat. Samuel covered his eyes and cowered.

  'Come my boy, everyone wants to know their future.' Shipton reached past Samuel and undid the latch. The door swung open and Samuel fell inside.

  The bare flagstones made for a hard landing. Samuel stood up, rubbing a bump on the back of his head. But when he saw what lay inside, his pain disappeared. Hanging from the walls were black and purple cloths adorned with crescent moons and white stars. Sparkling gems hung from the ceiling. At the far end of the room was a dining table with four candlesticks in a square in its centre. Around these were stacks of brightly coloured cards and a ring of stones and crystals. A large glistening red jewel took pride of place in the middle of the table.

  'Wow! Look at this stuff!' marvelled Samuel, wandering deeper into the room and forgetting about the purse.

  'I knew you'd see the light.' Shipton picked up the purse from the floor and tucked it into his pocket.

  Mary stayed at the threshold. 'Samuel, get out of there! Now! Mum will flog you if she knows you’ve been in 'ere!'

  Samuel paid no heed. He picked up a jewel and held it up to the window. 'Are these real? They are, aren’t they? Even the king'd be proud of these! And look at this one' He held up the sparkling red stone. 'This one's like it's on fire!'

  'Put it down boy!' snapped Shipton 'That's worth far more than any stupid royal jewels. They can't heal the sick! They can't make you better!' He snatched the stone from Samuel's hand and placed it back in the middle of the table. 'In the right hands these things hold power beyond your wildest dreams.' He turned to Mary 'Come girl, come and see.'

  Mary was still stood just outside the door. She knew this was somewhere that they shouldn't be.

  'Come girl. You’ve nothing to fear.' He dangled the purse in the air by its string.

  Mary had no choice. Going home without money or supplies was unthinkable.

  Shipton pulled off his long black coat and threw it into the corner of the room. Underneath was a crumpled purple velvet jacket with a broad black sash tied around his waist. He was soaked in sweat. 'Thank God for that! Who would ‘ave thought it, this bloody 'ot in London?' He reached into a small cupboard by the fireplace, pulled out a dark bottle and poured a drink into a metal goblet. 'Come on girl.' He gestured to Mary to join him at the table, 'Let’s get on with it.' He took a huge swig from his goblet and swept the drips from his beard with his sleeve.

  Mary pulled out a chair and sat with Samuel on the opposite side of the table.

  'Now tell me, what do you want to know? Do you want to know about the Infection, if you’ll be safe, if your family will die? That kind of stuff?' He gathered together the cards on the table and then topped up his drink. 'That's very popular at the moment.'

  'Tell me how to get rich. An'...get me own 'orse…. an' a house.' said Samuel.

  'No, no. That's not the idea.' said Shipton, gulping his drink greedily again.

  'When do we get the purse back?' asked Mary.

  'For 'eaven's sake! All in good time! You came 'ere so I could tell your futures. You know, tell you 'bout plague an'... all that sort o' thing.' His speech was slow and a little slurred. He carefully and methodically dealt the cards across the table until he had made nine rows, all cards face down. 'Now you two… children, we will zee.' He lifted the first card and held it in front of his face. He gasped. 'Oh, no, it can’t be!' and then took another swig.

  'What is it?' shouted Samuel, jumping to his feet.

  'I can’t tell you, it’s too terr...it's too terr'ble!' He was interrupted by a heavy rapping on the door. Shipton cursed, took another drink and rose unsteadily to his feet. By the time he had reached the door it was already open and a burly middle-aged man stood in the entrance.

  'Where’s me money Scroggs? You promised me you’d pay yer rent by last week and I ain’t seen a bloody penny! You’d best not have drunk it all again ‘cause this time you’ll be out!'

  'Drunk it? No, no. Me? No! Of course not! No. Why don't we talk about this outside, eh?' Shipton tried to usher the man clumsily back through the door. A hand in his chest stopped him.

  'Don’t you try shooing me out the door you stinky old drunk! I want me bloody rent.'

  Shipton checked back over his shoulder. Mary and Samuel were busy sneaking peeks at the face down cards.

  'Look' whispered Shipton 'I have your money but if you can wait ‘til next week I’ll pay you double. I'm doin' real good at the minute. See, I got customers, ‘ere, right now!' He waved a finger over his shoulder towards Mary and Samuel. 'An' if you like I’ll tell you your future. For free!' Shipton stumbled forward as he whispered.

  'What? I don’t believe your rubbish y'old fraud!' Blackburn pushed him away contemptuously. 'If I want to hear my fortune I’ll go see Misses Bacon. She knows what she's talkin' about. All I want from you is what you owe, right now, or I’ll sling you out of here and get a tenant who pays. And I’ll take everything you’ve got in this house to make up for me rent.'

  'All right, all right. I have your money.' Shipton pulled the purse from his jacket pocket and sneaked another glance at the children. They were still engrossed in his cards. He pulled a couple of coins from the purse and handed them over.

  Blackburn looked at the money, sneered and grabbed the purse from Shipton’s hand. He emptied it into his palm. ‘That’s for next week. You’ll be ahead for once.' He returned one coin to the purse and handed it back. 'Nice to do business with you, Mister Scroggs, oh, sorry, Shipton.'

  Shipton staggered back to the table as Blackburn left. He snatched the bottle and gulped from it. He drank without stopping until it was nearly gone. He slammed it angrily onto the table and slumped back into his chair.

  'Well?' demanded Samuel.

  'Well wha’?' replied Shipton, his words rolling together.

  'What was that card? The one you turned over before.'

  'Card? ...Wha' ...oh tha’. Yeh, well tha’ was… tha’ was the ...death card.'

  'The death card?' gasped Samuel. 'What does that mean?'

  'Wha' d'ya thin' it means? It's the death card for 'eaven's sake. It's hardly gonna be good luck, now, is it? Means you’re gonna die, o' course. Both of ya... an' your ...family... an' your ... an'mals...'

  'Die! When are we gonna die?'

  'Oh, I dunno…next week sometime.' he waved a dismissive hand in the air.

  Samuel jumped to his feet. 'When? When next week?'

  'Oh, em... next... Thursday, at... four o’clock.'

  'What, all of us?' asked Mary, 'We're all gonna die, next Thursday?'

  'Yep.'

  'All of us, and our animals, at four o'clock Thursday?'

  'Tha's right. Four o’clock. Maybe...jus' a little bi' af'er, or maybe... jus' a li'le bi' before.' Shipton lifted his feet up onto the table and leant back.

  'How?'

  'Wha'?'

  'How? How are
we all going to die at 4 o’clock next Thursday?'

  'Well…plague, prob’ly. Haven’t y'heard? There’s a lo’ of it about.'

  'What do you mean plague probably? I thought you were the finest fortune teller in all of London.'

  'I am.'

  'So plague's gonna kill us all, at four clock next Thursday? What's it gonna do, run us over with a carriage?'

  'You’re a septic, girl, that’s wha’ you are!' slurred Shipton 'You better watch it else God’ll strike ya down...cruel vengeance ...an’... all that...stuff.'

  Shipton rose to his feet at the second attempt, and then zigzagged across the room to a bed that was little more than straw and a few planks of wood on the floor. In seconds he was snoring.

  'Did you hear that Mary? We’re going to die - next week! All of us.' Samuel had tears in his eyes.

  'Don’t be silly. He’s a worse fortune teller than you are. We’re not going to die, not next Thursday, not never. He's just a faker.' She put an arm around Samuel and squeezed him. 'We’ll be alright, Sam, you an' me. Plague won't get us, nothin' will, you'll see. We'll be tucked up snug as field mice in that 'ouse, 'til it's all over.'

  For a change Samuel didn’t push her away. 'But 'e's got all this stuff, he's a wizard!'

  'He's a fake, an' a drunken one at that. Look at him!' Shipton was lying on his back, mouth open, his snoring so loud it nearly rattled the windows. ''E couldn't tell ya if it was day or night right now, let alone what's in the future. But I can tell yer somethin'. Dad will kill us if we don’t get that purse back and get them errands.'

  Mary released Samuel and they both inched nervously up to Shipton's bedside.

  'He must have it on 'im somewhere.' whispered Mary before kneeling alongside him. She eased her hand slowly into his jacket pocket. It was greasy, damp, and empty.

  Samuel began rummaging through a box of clothes he'd found on the floor.

  Mary began to slide her hand gently back from Shipton's pocket. But before it was completely out, Shipton threw an arm around her neck and dragged her in.

  'Jane, where you goin'?' he mumbled, his eyes still closed. 'Yeh, course I love ya!' He squeezed tightly around her neck.

  'Sam!' hissed Mary. 'Sam, help!'

  Samuel looked up from his searching and smirked back at his sister.

  'Yeh, course I got cash.' Shipton mumbled on, Mary still held firmly in his grip. He smelt of sweat and unwashed clothes.

  'Sam!'

  But Samuel had found something. Like plucking a rabbit from a hat, Samuel produced the purse from amongst a pile of grimy clothes at the bedside and held it proudly aloft by it's string.

  'Samuel! Get him off me!'

  Samuel eased Shipton's hand away from his sister and allowed her to crawl out from his grip. Mary raised a hand to clout her little brother around the ear and then thought better of it. They retreated to the table and Samuel tipped out the purse. They were horrified.

  'One ha’penny! Is that it?' Samuel held the purse upside down and shook it. 'Was there more in his pocket?'

  Mary shook her head.

  ''E's robbed us! 'E's a bloody thief!'

  'We can't go home with nothin'! What'll we eat? Dad'll kill us!'

  Samuel looked at the table. 'What about all them precious jewels. They must be worth a fortune! We can take some.'

  'They’ll be fakes, like him,' said Mary dismissively, 'probably only worth a penny or two for the ‘ole lot I bet.'

  'So, let’s take all of ‘em, everythin’!' Samuel didn't wait for an answer. He started gathering together the crystals and cards.

  'No, I don't know Sam. Any'ow, Mum ain’t gonna like that sort of stuff in the ‘ouse. She’d say they’re the work of Satan. An’ it’s stealing. It’s not a good time to be stealin’.'

  'We won’t show her. An’ any’ow, it ain’t stealin’ ‘cause he took our money. So we’re buyin’ ‘em.' He picked up the stunning red crystal from the centre of the table and marvelled at it against the window again. 'These 'ave gotta be real Mary, look at it!' He shoved it into his pocket and then continued gathering together the remainder.

  Mary was uneasy with the idea of taking the jewels but she even more nervous about the prospect of returning home with no money and no provisions. 'We'll just take enough stuff to make up for what ‘e took from us, Sam, nothing more. Maybe we can sell 'em an’ get our money back.' She cringed a little as she spoke. 'We'll bring 'im back anythin' left over.'

  Samuel found a small wooden box under the sideboard. Inside were leather and string bracelets, necklaces and charms. He swept the crystals and cards on top. 'Right, let’s go!'

  'No Samuel, that’s too much. That’s nickin’.'

  'Hey, 'e nicked from us first. Like you said, if we get too much, we’ll bring ‘im some back.'

  Shipton began to stir in the bed.

  'This don't feel right Samuel.' said Mary, heading for the door.

  'Hang on, I missed some.' Samuel began jumping for a crystal dangling from the ceiling.

  Shipton’s snoring turned into a cough and then a choke. He scratched at his crotch with one hand and pulled at his beard with the other.

  'Come on Sam! Let' get out of 'ere!'

  Samuel managed to catch hold of a dangling stone and tore it from the ceiling. He dropped it into the box. He went for another, but as he jumped he bumped against the table. Shipton's wine bottle began to quiver and wobble like the man who’d just drunk it. Samuel lunged out a hand to grab it before it fell, but in his haste he just managed to send it toppling over, clattering into a candle holder. Mary and Samuel froze. Shipton started grunting and scratching again.

  'Out of ‘ere. Now Samuel!' hissed Mary. ''Fore he wakes up!'

  Samuel picked up the box and started to tiptoe after Mary towards the door. But from behind came a gentle rumbling. The bottle was rolling slowly but steadily towards the far end of the table.

  'Oh shit!' hissed Samuel. He dropped the box and dashed around the table to catch the bottle before it fell. Chairs blocked his path; he hurriedly shoved them away. Mary looked on, motionless. The bottle reached the end of the table. Samuel dived, stretching his fingers as far as he could. But he was too slow; the bottle plummeted past his fingertips and shattered on the stone floor.

  Shipton sat up with a jolt. He rubbed his bleary eyes. Mary ran to the door. Samuel quickly grabbed his box and dived under the table.

  'Oi, no, don’t go!' Shipton climbed from his bed and stumbled towards Mary. He tried to give chase but she disappeared through the door and away into the street before he got close. Shipton cursed and slammed the door behind her.

  From beneath the table, Samuel watched Shipton’s worn leather boots and grubby trousers trudge across the room towards his hiding place. Samuel shuffled further under the table out of sight. Shipton rubbed his eyes again and stared. Where was his drink? Hadn't he left it there? He shook his head and stumbled between the chairs. He found his precious bottle, shattered into a thousand pieces, the last remaining drops of wine spilt like blood across the flagstones. 'Hell and damnation!' he roared.

  Samuel pulled himself in tightly, squeezing his legs against his chest and trying to suppress his panting breaths. His heart banged like a sledge hammer.

  Shipton looked at the table again. It wasn't just his drink that was gone. 'Where … where’s my cards?' An’ my stones? They’ve taken my stones!' He thrashed his arm across the wood and sent candlesticks flying. 'The thieving little bastards! Wait ‘til I get hold of ‘em!' He booted a chair out his way before stomping to the cupboard in search of another bottle. The shelves were bare. He kicked the cupboard door shut. Tears filled his eyes. 'I’m ruined, I’m bloody ruined! They're gonna kill me!' He slumped back into his chair and dropped his face into his hands.

  Samuel was still crouched under the table. He had to get out before Shipton found him. He didn’t care about the box and trinkets any more, he just wanted to escape in one piece. Shipton was sat with his back to him. This was his chance
. Heart in mouth he began to crawl towards the door. His heart thumped so hard he felt sure Shipton would hear it. He kept focused forwards. The front door was slightly ajar but it looked miles away. But if he could at least get close he could make a dash for it and Shipton would never catch him. Inch by painfully slow inch, the door got closer. Through the crack, Samuel could see the faces of people outside, hear the shouts and chatter. He was almost there.

  The door crashed shut.

  'Goin' somewhere boy?' Shipton loomed over Samuel. 'Ya got some things that belong to me, ya little bastard!'

  Samuel jumped to his feet but Shipton grabbed him by his neck and dragged him back towards the table.

  'I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to break yer bottle!' pleaded Samuel. 'An’ we ain’t taken noffin’! We ain’t, not noffin! It’s all under the table look.' He pointed at the box still sitting on the floor, overflowing with Shipton’s treasures.

  'Ha! So ya didn't get away with it after all!' Shipton's mood lightened a little. 'It'd better all be there boy! I'm gonna check. An' you owe me for that bottle. You got any more money?'

  'No. An' that’s not our money you nicked. That’s the master’s. And when he hears what you done…'

  'Shut up!' he stroked his beard. 'So, your master trusts you with his money, does he?'

  'No. It not like that, its…'

  'Who is this master of yours then? Where’s ‘e live?'

  'You’re hurtin’ me neck!' protested Samuel.

  'What? Oh sorry. Wasn’t thinkin’.' Shipton eased his grip a little. 'Where’s ‘e live then, this master? We could make a good team together, you an' me. You, know business partners. We could do all sorts. An' that girl o' yours. Where's she gone? She could...' Before he could finish his sentence a pebble smashed through the back window and skidded across the flagstones. 'Oi!' shouted Shipton. 'That’s real glass that is. That stuff costs the bloody earth!' He dashed to the window as another missile crashed through, just missing his bearded face. ‘Stop it! Stop!' he shouted and peered through the broken pane. There in the back alley was Mary, winding her arm back to launch again.

  Shipton threw open the window. ’What you doin’ girl? D’you know how much this stuff costs? You throw one more and I’ll ….' His words were cut short as a stone hit him on the cheek. Shipton winced. He raised a hand to his face and felt the warm ooze of blood between his fingers. 'That's it! You’ve done it now girl!' Shipton scrambled onto the window ledge and fell head first into the back yard. 'You get 'ere now girl!'

  Mary let him get close and then sprinted away as fast as her legs would carry her through the alleyway.

  Shipton fumed. He knew he would never keep up. He returned to the window and began climbing back in.

  Samuel had the box under his arm and was running out through the front door.

  'No! Bring that back!' Shipton scrambled inside and ran to the front door. But he was too slow; all that was left of his precious box was a few tarot cards scattered across the floor.

  Chapter 6