The Book of Kindly Deaths

by Eldritch Black

  Luxury! Katherine nearly laughed until the full implication of what he’d said sank in. For if he considered this luxury, then what could she expect after tonight? She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, promising herself she would run away at the first opportunity.

  Katherine looked up at the glassless windows. It should be easy to climb from one into the street and run as far away from these repulsive people as she could. Once she found the key to the door under the bridge and a weapon in case the vympaar still lurked in the passage.

  That was, if she made it through the monster-lined streets.

  “Keepsy like Grimwytch?” the lady asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

  “I…” Katherine began. She swallowed. “Yes. It’s very… nice. And I’m sure it will look nicer by daylight.” And easier to find my way home.

  “No light,” the elderly man said. “Always moontime.”

  “It never gets light?” Katherine asked.

  “Never,” the elderly man replied, fishing into his beard and seizing something that writhed in his filthy fingers. He popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Juicy pustulekiss fly. Fired my hunger. Fetch feast,” he said.

  The obese man got up, vanishing into a murk-filled room lit by a solitary candle.

  “When can I go home?” Katherine asked.

  “Never,” the elderly man replied, spitting a husk onto the back of his hand and examining the gooey remains.

  “You are home,” the tall man said. “Keepsy’s new home.”

  The obese man returned moments later, a curtain of drool glimmering on his lips as he regarded the large tray in his hands. He set it before Katherine, who glanced at the feast and cupped a hand over her mouth. She prayed they wouldn’t expect her to eat it.

  Upon the tray were six plates and a platter with what looked like a great pie formed of mud. Each of the Wrong People cut a slice of the pie, releasing a stench of rotten vegetables and dirt, and held it expectantly as the obese man licked the drool from his lips and opened a box of squirming maggots. He poured the maggots liberally over his pie before seizing another handful, shoveling them into his mouth.

  “Bad!” The tall man cuffed the obese man around the head. “Share!”

  “And don’t forget plate for Oldsy,” the woman said, pointing to the staircase.

  Katherine followed her finger, but there were only shadows. Was there a fifth member of this strange family in the house? And if so, why were they hidden away?

  The lady passed a slice of pie to Katherine, who held it as far away from her nose as possible.

  “Eat, girl. Need strength. Work tomorrow,” the obese man said.

  “I ate before…before I came here. Thank you, anyway,” Katherine said, passing her plate back to the obese man, who snatched it away.

  As the Wrong People devoured their revolting meal, Katherine did her best to ignore the sound of crunching maggots and the stench rising into the air.

  She glanced at the cups upon the tray. “Is that water?”

  “Rain.” The elderly man said. “Four year old. Vintage. Special for Keepsy’s first night.”

  Katherine picked up the glass, gazing at the scum floating on the water. The Wrong People stopped eating as they watched her with expectant looks. Katherine mimed drinking and rubbed her stomach. “Oh, that is delicious!”

  “Delicious,” the tall man agreed and pointed to the remains of the mud pie. “Eat, too.”

  “I can’t eat,” Katherine said. “Or I’ll be ill.”

  “Soon you eat. And love our food. Soon you be like us. Moonlight will turn you,” the elderly man told her, cramming the last of the pie into his mouth.

  What does that mean? Katherine gazed at the moon through the hole in the wall before peering at the skin on the back of her hands, inspecting it for signs of change.

  It was as pale as always.

  Not a sign of waxy yellow.

  Yet.

  The tall man burped, causing the woman in the hat to giggle. The elderly man shook his head. “Quiet. Late now. Keepsy to bed. Tomorrow work. Tomorrow show. Many come to see Keepsy.”

  “What do you mean, show?” Katherine asked.

  “You will see. Bed now. Quiet Keepsy.” The elderly man mimed sleeping, nodding to the tall man, who picked up a candle and a plate of “food.” He gestured for Katherine to follow him. As Katherine did as she was told, her eyes strayed to his pockets. Somewhere, he held the key to the door below the bridge.

  “New room for Keepsy.” The tall man gave her a rotten grin before opening a sturdy door beneath the stairs. A flight of steps descended into darkness. The tall man passed her the candle, shoving her towards the stairs. “Down.” As Katherine took the first step, a small, squat figure bolted past her. She caught a glimpse of a boy with a mess of black, tangled hair and waxy skin as he flew past with a hiss.

  “Bad!” the tall man yelled, grabbing the boy and flinging him back down the stairs. “No food for Oldsy now.”

  A cry of fury and despair rose from below.

  “Bad!” the tall man said again, pulling a stick from his coat.

  “No!” Katherine held out her hands. “Please, don’t hurt him.” For while she’d found the boy perfectly repulsive, the idea of him being beaten made her feel sick.

  The tall man glared below, before turning his attention to Katherine. “No beat Oldsy tonight if Keepsy want. But will beat Oldsy tomorrow if Oldsy bad.”

  “I’m sure he won’t be bad,” Katherine said as the tall man pushed her through the door, slamming it behind her. Katherine took the first step, the candle lighting the gloom as she held a steadying hand on a damp wall. “Hello?” she called, wondering where the boy had gone. For as feral as he’d appeared, he’d also seemed quite harmless.

  Somewhere below her came a sniffle.

  She stepped onto a hard stone floor and found herself in a tiny room. Moonlight streamed through a grate from the street above. Two filthy blankets lay in the middle of the room and in the far corner the huddled figure of the boy watched her.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Katherine said. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The boy stared in silence, before eventually nodding as he asked, “New Keepsy?”

  “I’m not a Keepsy,’” Katherine said, setting down the candle and gazing through the grate. “And I’m getting out of this abysmal place the first chance I get. Do you want to come with me?”

  The boy slowly nodded. “Go with Keepsy.”

  Katherine reached up for the grate, seizing one of the bars. It was rusting, but was surprisingly solid given the building’s general state of disrepair.

  She turned to find the boy drawing a blanket over himself and resting his head on the floor. “Keepsy sleep. Not much time ’til work.”

  Katherine yawned. She was exhausted. She would try to sleep, despite the hideous circumstances, and awaken alert and ready to escape. “My name’s Katherine,” she whispered. “What’s your name?”

  The boy looked at her emptily before shrugging and pulling the blanket over his head.

  As Katherine closed her eyes, noise began to filter through the grate—a peal of raucous laughter, a sobbing wail, a squeal that sounded like a pig being slaughtered. She shivered, trying to blot out the images filling her mind. “I’ll be out of this terrible place soon enough.”

  Someone began to walk up and down the street, pacing, before stopping beyond the grate.

  “Human!” a voice whispered.

  Katherine glanced up, but all she could see were a pair of black leather boots. And then she heard a cry of anger. It sounded like the tall man, roaring something incomprehensible into the street from the window above.

  The boots hurried away, and as Katherine listened to them recede, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Katherine awoke to a sharp pain as something jabbed her shoulder. “Get off, David!” she begged, before she remembered where she was. Katherine flinched as the tall man jabbed his finger into her arm o
nce more. “Wake, Keepsy. Work time. Garden time.”

  She held out her hand. “Alright, I’m getting up. Just please stop poking me.” She gazed to the blanket beside her, but it was empty, the boy gone. Katherine untangled herself from the bedding. Darkness still filtered through the grate, and then she remembered it was always dark in this wretched place.

  Her stomach rumbled.

  “Breakfast above. You eat,” the tall man said.

  “No, thank you,” Katherine said, recalling the revolting meal they’d shared the night before.

  But she was starving and thirsty and her mouth felt as if it were coated in moss. In that moment she’d have given almost anything for a cup of water and a means to clean her teeth.

  I won’t be here for long, she reminded herself, and I won’t spend another night in this place.

  “Come,” the tall man said, leading Katherine from the cellar and through a series of squalid rooms. They stopped in a large room with a patch of wall covered by a tatty blanket and a pile of decrepit furniture. The tall man pulled the furniture aside, ushering Katherine through the hole on the other side.

  Outside, she found a small patch of dirt filled with black flowers of the type the woman with the hat wore. Here and there, dotted amongst the flowers, were anemic weeds. A large wall enclosed the garden, far too tall for Katherine to climb.

  “Clean.” The tall man pointed to the garden.

  Katherine nodded, reaching for a weed. But as she pulled it, its stem sank into her finger, making her shout with pain.

  “No!” the tall man gasped. “No! Clean this.” He pulled up a flower, tossing it over his shoulder.

  “You want me to throw away the flowers and keep the weeds,” Katherine said. “I should have known.”

  The tall man watched Katherine from the steps as she set to work, yanking the flowers and throwing them onto a pile. After a while, he vanished into the house.

  Katherine continued, stopping only when a loud squawk made her jump.

  A crow the size of an owl watched from the wall, its black eyes studying her raptly. Something about the bird made her shiver. She picked up a stone, tossing it at the crow, narrowly missing its great body. It squawked once more, turned, and flew off, merging with the night sky.

  Katherine continued pulling out the flowers until she spotted something beneath the dirt. She fished it out and held it up. It looked like a vegetable—half-turnip, half-potato. She glanced back to the house, glad to see the holes in the walls devoid of watchers.

  As her stomach rumbled once more, Katherine closed her eyes and bit into the vegetable. It was just as vile as it looked, and tasted like an overripe, half-rotten mushroom. She gagged as a pungent aroma filled her mouth, but despite its taste she chewed and swallowed, before praying it wasn’t poisonous.

  Katherine waited for a moment before delving into the dirt and finding another. She wiped the earth away, biting into it and ignoring its acrid taste. She finished her meal before tossing the roots over the wall and continuing with her work. Only when the garden was clear of every last flower did she stand and stretch, flinching as she turned to the house.

  The tall man stood against the wall, watching her.

  How long had he been there?

  “Finished?” he asked.

  “Finished,” Katherine replied.

  The tall man stepped into the garden, lifting the piles of dead flowers and throwing them over the wall. “Good job, Keepsy,” he said, escorting her back inside the house before handing Katherine a small pouch.

  “What’s this for?” Katherine asked.

  The tall man pointed at the windowsills and floor and said, “Put dust in pouch.”

  “It would be quicker to sweep it up. Have you got a broom?”

  “No!” he cried in alarm. “Dust best this time of year. Keep dust. Dust for cakes.” He rubbed his stomach, smiling.

  “Of course.” Katherine sighed, setting to work.

  “Good, good.” The tall man grinned. “Keepsy gather dust in all downstairs rooms.”

  “What about upstairs?”

  “Never go upstairs.” He shook his head violently. “Never!”

  “As you wish.” Katherine gave him a disarming smile. “So, where are the others?”

  “Other Eiderstaark?”

  “Yes.”

  “At door under bridge. Go every day and wait for invitation. For Keepsies.”

  “But you have me here now,” Katherine said. “Why would you need another Keepsy?”

  “Keepsies don’t last long. Now stop talking and gather dust,” he ordered, striding from the room.

  As she worked, she wondered what he meant by Keepsies not lasting long. What happened to them? And what might happen to her?

  Katherine ran her fingers along the windowsills, sweeping thick clumps of dust into the pouch while plotting her escape. All she needed was the key to the door below the bridge, and then to find her way back to the passage. But how?

  She wondered if the Wrong People slept, and if so, where did the tall man sleep? Did they have bedrooms?

  She glanced to the ceiling.

  Their rooms had to be upstairs. Perhaps that was why the tall man had been so firm in forbidding her from venturing up there. She gathered dust until she heard the sound of the Wrong People climbing back into the house. They were alone. It seemed no Keepsies had offered themselves today.

  No wonder, Katherine thought bitterly. The story of her abduction must have spread across Tattleton by now, and the ancient black door would have been covered over.

  She looked up as the obese man gave a shrill cry and waddled over, the others following. He seized Katherine by the chin, examining her face. “Has girl been outside?”

  “Your friend,” she nodded to the tall man, “whatever he’s called, sent me to work in the garden.”

  The elderly man barged his way through, peering at Katherine, before giving the tall man a furious look. “Fool! Girl worked in garden and moon worked on girl. Keepsy turning.”

  The Wrong People chattered angrily amongst themselves, and from what Katherine could understand from their garbled conversation, their chief concern was her spoiling and turning. It appeared to be a problem for the great show, and that soon, Katherine would turn altogether.

  Katherine wiped the tears from her eyes and held her hand before one of the candles. Was it her imagination, or was her skin slightly yellow? And a little waxy? Katherine finger-combed her hair. It was lank. But she hadn’t washed it for who knew how long, and this house was full of dirt and grime.

  She ran a finger across her teeth, expecting it to come away as black as the Eiderstaark’s teeth.

  “Come, Keepsy,” the lady with the hat said, motioning for Katherine to sit on the crate beside her.

  This time when the obese man brought the “food,” there was no ceremony. They tore into the revolting pie, chewing maggots as they slurped their rainwater.

  When Katherine refused to eat, they barely gave her a second look.

  As the Wrong People finished their meal, the tall man picked up a plate with a small slice of pie and a cup of rainwater, taking it to the cellar door. As he opened it, the boy appeared, trying to shove past and receiving a great blow to the side of his face.

  The boy howled as the tall man removed his stick and, before Katherine could stop him, beat the boy across his arms. “Bad Oldsy. Bad!”

  Katherine ran, throwing herself between them and begging the tall man to stop.

  Finally, he did, and grinned as he turned to the Wrong People. “Keepsy likes Oldsy.”

  As they howled with laughter, Katherine had to stop herself from kicking the tall man in his bony shins. Instead, she passed the food to the cowering boy and helped him through the door. The tall man shut the boy in and gave Katherine a stern glare.

  “Why do you keep him in the cellar?” she demanded.

  The elderly man, who had joined them, gave her a quizzical look. “Oldsy punished.”

&nbs
p; “Why?” Katherine asked.

  “Tried to escape,” the obese man replied, adding, “Keepsy should learn lesson.”

  The elderly man clapped his hands, smiling at Katherine. “Be happy, Keepsy. Be happy.” He pointed a finger. “Show tonight. Big show for peoples of Greshtaat. Much riches. Much dust.”

  “What is this show?” Katherine asked, even though she had a perfectly good idea of what it might entail.

  The woman with the flower in her hat giggled as she pointed at Katherine. “You are the show. Normal in the normal show. Keepsy come with me.” The lady guided Katherine into a huge room lined with candles. At the end of the room stood a grimy old curtain, which the lady swept back, revealing a crate. Katherine felt a swell of disgust as she realized its purpose.

  The elderly man hobbled up to her, pointing to the crate. “Stand,” he ordered.

  Katherine did as she was told, as the other Wrong People watched her with rapt concentration.

  “When show begins,” the elderly man explained, “curtain opens. You turn all way around. So they see you. And poke tongue out. Your tongue funny. And show teeth. Your teeth funny.”

  “That’s so good to know,” Katherine said, only just containing her fury.

  She was leaving tonight, if there was such a thing as night, after their normal show. Come what may, she would find the tall man’s key and leave this dreadful place.

  The elderly man continued his instructions, ordering her to keep turning and poking out her tongue, as he whipped back the curtain and presented her to the others. Katherine turned and twirled to their hilarity and applause, around and around until an insistent knocking came from their makeshift door and they scuttled across the room.

  The elderly man remained, closing the curtain and whispering, “Stand still. Stand quiet. Like dead statue.”

  Katherine wanted to ask him what a dead statue was, but instead took a deep breath as from outside came a clamor of voices, whistles, laughs, and growls.