Gloom Town

by Ronald L. Smith

  He had stood outside the great room for what seemed an eternity, poised at attention and waiting for an order, but none ever came. All he had heard was a soft murmuring through the door every few minutes, but he couldn’t make out any words. He yawned and shuffled his feet, then softly whistled a tune his mum had sung to him when he was little.

  Finally, after two hours, he had gone upstairs. If he was supposed to stand sentry all night they should have told him, he reasoned. He wasn’t going to linger there any longer doing nothing. So far, abandoning his post had not seemed to matter.

  He turned over on his side. He couldn’t sleep, although he was very tired and hungry. Before going to bed, he’d stolen into the empty kitchen and slurped some fish stew straight from the pot. He hadn’t wanted to take a bowl upstairs because he’d just have to bring it back down again.

  Rory turned over again. Muffled voices drifted through the floorboards. Every now and then, he thought he heard the tinkling of piano keys or the strumming of a harp, a sound he hadn’t heard when he was downstairs. Strange, he thought. He’d never seen a real harp before, but his mum had something called a Victrola, and the lovely sounds of pianos, horns, and harps came out of it. It was a wonderous thing to hear, and he often sat in front of it for hours. It was like magic.

  * * *

  Rory sat up.

  He had been awakened by a sound.

  It was coming from downstairs. Where the guests were.

  It was chanting. A chorus of low voices. There was no mistaking it. He threw off the thin blanket and knelt, putting his ear to the floor. For a moment all was silent, but then . . .

  A shiver worked its way along his spine as a low growl seemed to come from downstairs. It was an animal sound, like a dog or a wolf. How was that possible?

  He stood up and walked to the small window. Perhaps it was a stray animal outside. But he saw nothing of the sort, only the back garden of the manor, covered in high grass and weeds. He had to find out where the sound was coming from, but if he was caught, who knew what could happen?

  He stared out the cracked window for a very long time. Cold air drifted through. If I go searching, he reasoned with himself, and get caught, I’m done for.

  Then he wondered, What would Izzy do?

  She’d take a chance, Rory knew. She was always up for doing things you weren’t supposed to.

  Rory released a sigh. He felt vibrations from the floor thrum along the soles of his bare feet. He took another deep breath, then walked to the door and opened it.

  He slipped down the hallway as quiet as a mouse dressed in silk. He knew what he was doing could land him in hot water and possibly lose him his job, but he had to know what was making that sound. It was an itch that needed to be scratched.

  The hallway was dark but for the paraffin lamp on the long table. He took the stairs on his tiptoes, every now and then pausing and holding his breath when a step groaned under his weight.

  At the bottom, he walked into the hall, then snuck past the suit of armor, which stood guard silently. Rory thought it might come clattering to life and run him off with its lance at any moment.

  He walked down the main hall. The doors to the great room were cracked open.

  He had a decision to make. He could go in and look around or go back upstairs. Rory stood silently a moment, thinking, until his curiosity urged him on and he peeked around the doors.

  The room was empty. And cold. Colder than it should have been. A smell hung in the air. It was the same odor he had noticed on the guests, like wet animal fur. He drew farther into the room.

  And gasped.

  The remains of several bones were on all of the plates. He bent down and looked more closely. The marrow had been sucked right out. He’d seen the bones that dogs had left behind and these looked very similar, chewed to bits and cracked open. “Tears of a fish,” he whispered.

  The low animal growl sounded once more and he followed it back out into the hall. All was quiet. He looked left, then right. There it was again—coming from farther away. He walked back the way he had come and passed the armor. Around the corner, a soft glow spilled along the floor. A floorboard creaked as he drew closer. He froze for a moment and sucked in a breath. The red door. The sounds were coming from behind it.

  Rory moved silently, one step at a time. A red glow, as thin as a knife edge and deeper in color than the door itself, pulsed along its bottom. At first he thought it was firelight, but as he got closer, he realized that firelight wasn’t really red. This was something else. Something . . . unnatural.

  The red light continued to pulse, like it had its own heartbeat.

  Strangest of all, the forest of black trees painted on the door seemed to be moving again, thin branches swaying silently.

  He put his ear a few inches from the door and cupped it with his right hand. He almost expected to feel a tickling sensation from the phantom breeze, but to his relief, he felt no such thing. The low animal sound faded but was replaced by something even more mysterious:

  Words.

  “She is coming. I can feel her upon the wind.”

  “We will need more. Much more.”

  “Do not fret. A great harvest is coming.”

  And then, Rory heard a phrase he had never heard before:

  “Long live Arcanus Creatura!”

  Shuffling steps sounded behind him. He turned, his breath catching in his throat.

  It was Malvonius.

  Chapter Nine

  The Valet Is Interrogated

  Rory froze.

  He couldn’t move, even if he had wanted to. The blood felt cold in his veins.

  Malvonius was still dressed in his butler’s uniform. Did he ever sleep? Rory didn’t even know where his room was.

  His mismatched eyes glittered. “What are you doing?” he asked in his slow, deep voice.

  It was a simple question, but Rory found himself at a loss for words. His tongue felt thick in his throat. “I, um . . . I thought I heard voices, and well . . . I came to see if someone was at the door.”

  Malvonius breathed out through his nostrils. “This is not the front door,” he replied, like he was talking to a very small child. “That is around the corner.” He pointed his long arm.

  Rory’s legs felt like sticks ready to break under his weight. He absently reached up and caressed the black stone around his neck. Malvonius was calm, but in that calmness, Rory sensed a deep, simmering anger, as if at any moment the butler could reach out and throttle him.

  “What did you hear?” he asked, drawing closer.

  “Nothing,” Rory said, backing up a pace. “I heard nothing at all.” But he knew the beads of sweat trembling on his forehead told another story.

  Malvonius pinned him with those strange eyes of his. They didn’t seem human. They were more like an animal’s eyes. “Wandering about the house without permission can lead to . . . unfortunate events,” he said in a low voice. “Now, I ask you again. What . . . did . . . you . . . hear?”

  Rory swallowed loudly. “Nothing,” he said. “I wasn’t snooping.”

  Malvonius drew in a deep breath and then released it. “Lies,” he hissed, drawing out the word.

  And then Malvonius smiled, and it was full of malice.

  “I’ll see that the master hears of this,” the butler said. “Oh yes. And then we shall see, won’t we?”

  * * *

  Rory sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. Bones, he thought with horror. What kind of bones were they? He couldn’t tell, as they’d been ripped apart. Where did they come from?

  He was terrified. What had he just done? He’d be let go, he realized. As soon as Lord Foxglove heard what happened, he’d have to leave immediately. He’d told his mum he was going to do a good job. And he had failed.

  * * *

  Rory didn’t remember falling asleep, but he awoke to the sound of birds outside his window. For a moment he thought he was at home, snug in bed, but then the strangeness of the night bef
ore came flooding back.

  She is coming. I can feel her upon the wind.

  We will need more. Much more.

  Do not fret. A great harvest is coming.

  Long live Arcanus Creatura!

  What does it all mean? Rory wondered. What is Arcanus Creatura? Who is she?

  Rory dressed and began his day’s duties hesitantly, constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for Lord Foxglove to call him into that cold, dark cellar.

  I’ll see that the master hears of this.

  He worked all morning—polishing the silverware, scrubbing the floors, and beating the dust out of the rugs with a mattenklopper, which made his eyes water and his throat itch.

  His thoughts kept turning to Izzy and his mum. It felt like it had already been months since he had seen them.

  As he ran a cloth over an already-gleaming table in the main hall, Malvonius came out of the drawing room.

  “You have been summoned,” he said.

  “Summoned?” Rory echoed.

  “Yes, summoned,” Malvonius said with an edge. “The master will see you now. Put down that rag! This instant!”

  Rory jumped where he stood and stuffed the cloth in his back pocket.

  “Follow me,” the butler commanded him.

  Down the stairs they went, and Rory felt the familiar cold and damp. His legs trembled with each step he took. What kind of trouble was he going to get into? Izzy had warned him to be careful, but he was too curious. He just couldn’t help himself.

  A minute later, he was standing before Lord Foxglove. Malvonius retreated to the back of the room, lost in shadow, but Rory still felt his presence.

  Foxglove sat at his desk, putting the finishing touches on a letter. Rory watched as he used candlewax to seal the envelope. He seemed to let the moment stretch out as long as possible, making Rory more uncomfortable with every passing second.

  Finally, without looking up from his task, he said, “I understand you were out and about last evening.”

  Rory didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t really a question. But it was something he had to answer. “I . . . well, I heard voices and thought that maybe someone was at the door.”

  Lord Foxglove finally looked up. His pale eyes sent a chill right through Rory. He stood and came from around the table, oddly graceful despite his height and thin frame. “When you took this job,” he began, “I believe you said you could be trusted. Is that not correct?”

  Rory didn’t remember being asked that. But maybe he had. It was as if he’d been in a daze the day he was hired.

  “I gave you a very large sum to keep my trust and to perform your duties,” the lord of the manor continued. “I don’t give out money like that willy-nilly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fox—”

  Malvonius coughed in the shadows.

  “Lord Foxglove,” Rory corrected himself.

  Rory felt small standing in the tall man’s presence. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. Foxglove bent down a little closer to Rory’s face. His nose was sharp and long, and the beard he wore was braided into three strands, each as thick as a length of rope. Rory wanted to tie them into a knot and then yank as hard as he could.

  Lord Foxglove reached out and lifted Rory’s chin, and Rory flinched at his touch. “I think you are a very bright boy, but I do believe you are a curious sort. Is that not correct?”

  Rory didn’t like the way Lord Foxglove spoke to him, like he was trying to trick him with words. He also didn’t like being held by the chin, but he was too scared to back away.

  Foxglove didn’t wait for an answer. “What did you hear?” he asked, releasing Rory and rising back up to his full height.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Rory said defiantly.

  Lord Foxglove was silent for a long moment. The air in the room was so cold Rory wanted to wrap his arms around himself. Finally, Foxglove stepped back a pace. He clasped his hands together and spoke very quickly. “If I find you in a part of the house where you are not expected again, I’m afraid our little arrangement will come to an end.”

  Rory glanced at the black-and-white marble floor and then back to Lord Foxglove, although he didn’t meet his eyes. Is that it? he wondered. A small sense of relief flooded through him. He wasn’t going to be let go! He and his mum would still be okay.

  His employer turned around and walked back to his desk. “Malvonius, escort young Rory to his room.”

  Malvonius slinked out of the shadows and pinched Rory’s arm, leading him away.

  Chapter Ten

  A Glimpse, Nothing More

  Rory had been awake since dawn.

  Hunger gnawed at his stomach, made worse by the absence of his mum and Izzy. Before he’d started at the manor, he’d seen both of them nearly every day of his life. They were a constant source of support and friendship, and he missed them dearly. But he couldn’t ask for a day off now, not after he’d nearly lost his job. He shifted his weight on the bed. Maybe he should just leave. He didn’t like the manor, and it was probably only going to get worse.

  * * *

  Rory spent the next several days doing his chores as directed by the notes tacked to his door. He swept the same rooms over and over, dusted and mopped, and made sure to steer clear of the red door. Since the night he’d been caught eavesdropping, he’d heard nothing from within the mysterious room.

  Long live Arcanus Creatura!

  He pictured the door in his mind, and the way the thin tree branches painted onto it seemed to have been moving. What could cause that to happen?

  She is coming. I can feel her upon the wind.

  Who?

  He shook the dark thoughts away. Whatever was going on behind the red door was none of his business. If he wanted to keep his job, he had to put snooping behind him.

  One late afternoon at the end of the week, after Rory had cleaned, polished, swept, and mopped what seemed like every room in the manor, he found Malvonius shuffling through some papers at a desk in the drawing room. Rory approached him rather quietly, perhaps too much so.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Rory said.

  Malvonius jumped in his seat, startled.

  Rory gasped.

  For a brief second, he thought he saw—knew he saw—something else.

  Something that was not Malvonius Root.

  The butler had a different face—a wild, animal face with birdlike features that disappeared as soon as Rory blinked.

  “Yes?” Malvonius asked, regaining his composure, completely unaware, it seemed, of what Rory thought he’d just seen.

  Rory swallowed. “I, um . . . well . . .”

  “Spit it out, boy, for goodness’ sake!”

  Rory shuddered. “We never talked about my day off, sir,” he started. “I’d like to see my mum. Maybe this evening? I’ve finished all my duties, sir.”

  Malvonius leaned back in his chair and studied him. He looked down his long nose. “A day off? What’s that?”

  “It’s, you know, when—”

  “I know good and well what a day off is!” Malvonius cut him off. “But I’ve never found the need for one myself.”

  Rory wanted to punch him right in his smug face.

  Malvonius thrust out his chin. “And you ask this after being caught gallivanting around the house at all hours?”

  “I wasn’t gallivanting.”

  Malvonius raised an eyebrow.

  Rory shrunk.

  “Perhaps he doesn’t want the evening off after all,” the butler said in his menacing, quiet tone. “Perhaps he wants to work in the back garden, pulling weeds and chopping brambles.”

  “No!” Rory blurted out, and then immediately regretted it and lowered his voice. “I mean, I just need a little time, sir. See, my mum lives on her lonesome and all, and . . .”

  Malvonius waved his hand as if shooing a fly. He fished a pocket watch from somewhere within his suit and looked at it closely. “Be back at half-past nine, no later,” he declared. “If you’re l
ate, the master will hear of it.” He clicked the watch shut. “Do you understand?”

  Rory nodded.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Is that quite all?” Malvonius asked, as if offended.

  “Oh,” Rory said. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

  “Humph.” Malvonius sniffed, then lowered his head and went back to his work.

  Rory turned around and headed out of the room. He swallowed a grin.

  No matter how much Malvonius tormented him, it didn’t matter. He was going to see his mum and Izzy again.

  Hooray! he wanted to shout.

  But he didn’t.

  * * *

  Rory shut the door to Foxglove Manor and set off, resisting the urge to skip down the road. That was for kids. But he was happy. Happier than he’d been in days. He was going to see the two most important people in his life, and he couldn’t wait.

  He looked left, then right, and went ahead and skipped anyway, smiling the whole while.

  He decided to pay a quick visit to Izzy first before going home. He had so much to tell her and he couldn’t wait. He felt a little guilty for not seeing his mum first—if she was even home and not at work—but she’d want him to stay the whole time, and he definitely wanted to see his best friend before going back to that dreadful manor.

  As he walked, happy to be free for even a short while, he wondered what, exactly, he had seen when he’d surprised Malvonius.

  Maybe it really was just a trick of the eye, Rory told himself. After all, he was tired and stressed from all of the work and the thoughts of home swirling in his head. Whatever it was, it had sent a shiver right through him.

  He made his way up the Strasse and turned onto Copper Street. The clouds above Gloom were even darker than usual. There was something strange in the air, he noticed, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Still, the familiarity of the neighborhood put him at ease—from the sharp tang of the leatherworks to the coppery smell of the iron foundry.