The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound

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The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound Page 9

by Vicki Lockwood


  “You have to understand, Mr. Fitzgerald, it’s not personal,” said the pen-sucker.

  “Not personal,” echoed the whiskery one. “Just business.”

  “I just need another week!” Fitzy pleaded. “You understand unforeseen circumstances, don’t you, Leonard?”

  “‘Mr. Crake,’ if you please,” the lean man said. “Let’s keep it formal, under the circumstances.”

  “Formal,” agreed Whiskers, sounding like a parrot.

  “But we’ve always been able to work things out before. We’ve been doing business together for so long.” Fitzy took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t we at least wait until after tonight’s show?”

  Malachy suddenly appeared behind Lizzie and tapped her on the shoulder. “Those two are loan sharks,” he whispered. “They lent Pop the cash for the horses and the posters. Now they want it back, with interest.”

  “I don’t like the look of ’em,” Lizzie whispered back.

  “The tall one’s Crake, known as Calculating Crake because he works out his profits to the last cent. The other one’s Persuading Harry. He used to be a boxer.”

  “He ‘persuades’ people to pay up, does he?” Lizzie guessed.

  Malachy nodded, looking grim. “He hasn’t got his brass knuckles on yet. That’s something, I suppose.”

  “Is your father going to be able to pay them?”

  “With ticket sales as bad as they are?” Malachy shook his head. “If it goes on like this, he’ll be lucky to get half of what he owes. We just have to hope for a miracle tonight.”

  * * *

  But there was no miracle. What followed was one of the worst nights anyone in Fitzy’s circus could remember. Lizzie watched from behind the beaded curtain. All of the customers had come in, but the big tent was still half empty.

  “Word must have gotten out after last night,” said Malachy.

  “People must have said not to bother going,” Nora agreed.

  Lizzie winced, still feeling like it was her fault. Maybe if she’d put on a better show, the audience would have gone away happier.

  Fitzy managed to stir up some half-hearted applause for the Boissets’ opening act. Usually the family’s polished skill got the audience gasping in wonder, but this time it fell flat. People folded their arms, talked amongt themselves, smoked pipes, and even read newspapers.

  It’s like they’ve made up their minds to have a bad time, no matter what we do, Lizzie thought.

  Dru took it personally. As he strode out onto the high wire, he looked determined to impress the audience. Halfway through his routine with Collette, he performed a backflip with far too much flashy showmanship, botched the landing completely, and nearly fell off the high wire. He landed straddling the wire, his face contorted with pain.

  “I can’t bear to watch,” Lizzie whispered.

  The next acts were no better. Without JoJo, the clowns couldn’t perform their normal routine. Their usually hilarious stunts were met with stony silence. Then, the wild animals were skittish and snarling. Akula the elephant trumpeted and stamped her feet instead of balancing on a ball like a gigantic ballerina. And even Fitzy couldn’t get Leo the lion to jump through hoops.

  As Lizzie braced herself to go on and face the crowd, Nora came running up to her. “You may as well go and get changed,” she said.

  “What?” Lizzie asked. “Why?”

  “We can’t perform tonight. Victoria’s just too wild! She won’t calm down no matter what Hari does.”

  Lizzie felt relieved, though she tried to look disappointed. “Poor Fitzy. He’s going to burst a blood vessel.”

  Although it wasn’t her fault, Lizzie felt terrible when she saw Fitzy after the show. He was handing out refunds to customers who had hoped to see the famous Sullivan sisters. After word got out that the ringmaster was giving people their money back, the line of “disappointed customers” suddenly got a lot longer.

  “That’s all he needs,” Lizzie muttered. “He probably hasn’t made a penny tonight.”

  The Penny Gaff Gang and a handful of circus folk gathered in the tea tent after the show, still shocked by how badly the evening had gone. They drank their tea in silence, nobody wanting to be the first to speak.

  Eventually, Didi the clown leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “There’s one advantage to a half-empty house,” he said. “Fewer people to see the circus fall flat on its face.”

  “Was it really that bad?” Ma Sullivan asked.

  “It was terrible!” Didi exclaimed. “The baker’s shop routine just doesn’t work without old JoJo. We clowns barely got a giggle out of the crowd.”

  “At least they liked you!” Collette snapped. “And clowns are supposed to make fools of themselves — unlike some people!”

  Dru glared at her and muttered something in French that Lizzie didn’t understand. By the look on Collette’s face, it was something rude.

  “There’s no sense in blaming one another,” Ma Sullivan said. “It’s this site that’s to blame.”

  Malachy rested his head on his arms. “I reckon our problems started sooner than that. Back when my dad splashed out all that money on those two horses. It was a gamble that hasn’t paid off.”

  “You can’t go blaming the poor horses neither, Mally! Poor dumb beasts. It’s the Devil’s Hound that’s spooked them, and we all know it. Not to mention the restless souls from that wretched cemetery.” Ma Sullivan came and gave Malachy a pat on the shoulder to show there were no hard feelings. “The sooner we move on from this site, the better.”

  “Pop won’t like it,” Malachy said.

  “Ma’s only saying what we’re all thinking,” grumbled Erin.

  “Now, Mally, you’ll be a good boy and talk to your father, won’t you?” said Ma Sullivan sweetly.

  Good thing she doesn’t know what the Penny Gaff Gang is planning tonight, thought Lizzie. If she knew we were heading up to the cemetery, she’d have a fit.

  CHAPTER 12

  The gang gathered in Lizzie’s caravan for a quick meeting before the cemetery trip.

  “Don’t go,” begged Nora. “It’s not worth the risk! Especially if we’re moving on soon anyway.”

  “I suppose that means neither of you are coming?” Lizzie hadn’t really expected the twins to come, but it still felt like a let down.

  “Are you joking? Of course we’re not,” Nora said.

  “Scared of the Devil’s Hound?” joked Dru.

  “You bet I’m scared of it,” Nora said. “But I’m even more scared of my ma.”

  “She’s got a fearsome temper,” added Erin. “If she thought either of us had gone anywhere near that cemetery . . . I can’t even imagine the trouble we’d be in.”

  “You think I’m not scared too?” Lizzie snapped. “Of course I am. But we’ve got to go. Nobody else cares about the poor dead people. Nobody else even knows.”

  “That’s too bad,” Erin said, “but we can’t help. The dead will have to look out for themselves. Let’s go, Nora.”

  With that, the twins left the trailer. Nora glanced over her shoulder and whispered, “Sorry.”

  “I can’t come either,” Malachy said after an awkward silence.

  “Oh, that’s just fantastic,” Lizzie muttered.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Mal said. “I have to help Pop look through the accounts.”

  “Because of the debts.” Lizzie understood. “Sorry, Mal.”

  “He thinks we might figure something out,” Malachy said, shrugging. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a solution.”

  Malachy got up to leave. As he opened the caravan door, a startled Becky stood there, about to knock. She looked nervously from Lizzie to Dru and Hari. “Are we still going?” she said. “I thought there’d be more of us.”

  “So did I,” Lizzie said. “Lo
ok, if you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay. You don’t have to come.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” Becky said, and Lizzie knew right then that the girl was brave enough to face grave robbers and ghosts alike.

  “Okay!” Dru said, rubbing his hands in excitement. “We have a team, and we have a plan.”

  “Plan?” Lizzie had missed that part.

  Hari held up a length of rope. “We borrowed this from the spare tent rigging,” he explained. “We climb over the wall, sneak up on the grave robbers, and catch them in the act.”

  “What about the dog?” Lizzie asked nervously.

  Hari gave her a calm, knowing smile. “Leave that to me.”

  * * *

  As they approached the cemetery, Lizzie kept a careful watch for any telltale glimpse of light that might be the grave robbers. Nothing showed. The moon was hidden behind clouds tonight, and the darkness was almost total.

  “We should have brought a light of our own,” Lizzie muttered. “A lantern or a candle. Anything.”

  “Let your eyes get used to it,” Hari said. “Learn to see in the dark. Like a cat.”

  Dru reached the wall and began to climb. “Better . . . that we didn’t bring . . . a light.”

  “How so?” Lizzie asked.

  “They won’t see us coming.” Dru tied the rope around the branch of a nearby tree, then threw it over for the others to use. In moments they were cautiously picking their way through the cemetery, alert to any sight or sound that might mean trouble.

  “Stay together,” Lizzie whispered, thinking of Becky. “We need to check Becky’s father’s grave first.”

  When they arrived at the graveside, Lizzie instantly saw what she’d been dreading. The flowers she had left were nowhere to be seen. “They’ve been here,” she said, suddenly feeling very cold.

  “They robbed his grave?” Becky’s voice trembled. The fiery confidence flooded out of her in a rush of tears as she sank to her knees. “How . . . how could they?”

  “If they’re here, we’ll catch them,” Lizzie promised.

  Becky clutched handfuls of freshly dug earth and squeezed them. She rocked back and forth, crying. Anyone could see she was in no state to take on the grave robbers.

  “Why don’t you wait here?” Lizzie said, giving her a hug. “We’ll go and hunt for the men who did this.”

  Becky just nodded weakly and let loose a fresh flood of tears.

  I should never have let her come, Lizzie thought. She’s brave, but she ain’t in strong enough shape for this. It was hardly surprising as the farm girl had only just recovered from smallpox.

  Moving quickly, the three of them — Hari, Dru, and Lizzie — crept through the cemetery toward where they’d seen the two men before. Dru grabbed Lizzie’s arm and silently pointed out a dark shape passing between the trees.

  “Is that them?” whispered Hari.

  As if in answer, a low and angry growl came from a nearby clump of bushes. Lizzie barely had time to register how close the hound was before it loped out, terrifyingly huge against the night sky.

  “The Devil’s Hound!” Lizzie gasped.

  The beast was right next to them. Lizzie knew it would do no good to run. Last time she’d had a head start, and the enormous dog had still caught up with her. This time, there was no way she could outrun it.

  The moon came out from behind a cloud. Now she could see it clearly, a beast like a Great Dane, almost as tall as she was and as black as the night sky. Lizzie stood paralyzed with fear. The phantom dog snarled, then ran and leaped at her.

  Hari’s voice rang out, firm and clear. “Down!”

  The dog stopped in its tracks. It looked at Hari and cocked its head, confused.

  “Down,” Hari repeated.

  Lizzie couldn’t believe it. The dog was bigger than any of them, and yet Hari was speaking to him as if he was in charge. Hari’s face was calm, showing no fear at all. Slowly, hesitantly, the huge dog sank to the ground.

  “Good boy,” Hari said instantly. “Well done.” He threw the dog a piece of fresh meat from his pocket. Eagerly, the dog gobbled and chomped it up.

  “You liked that, didn’t you?” Hari crooned. “You poor thing. I bet nobody’s fed you anything for a long time, have they?”

  As he spoke, Hari bent down and ruffled the dog’s fur as if he had every right to. To Lizzie’s amazement, the dog let him.

  “He’s doing what he does with the lions!” she whispered to Dru. “He acts like he’s the boss, so they treat him like the boss.”

  Within minutes, the dog was rolling on his back and licking Hari’s face. “He’s showing me his throat,” Hari explained. “That means he’s submitting to me. In his eyes, I’m the pack leader. We can be friends now.”

  “I dunno,” Lizzie said nervously. “You didn’t see how he went after Malachy.”

  “That wasn’t his fault,” Hari said. “He’s been starved.”

  “So he was trying to eat Mal?” Lizzie exclaimed.

  Hari laughed. “No! He thought he was driving off a rival. He’s used to getting by on scraps, so any stranger is a threat who might take his food away.”

  Dru dropped to a squat and patted the hound experimentally. “He seems tame enough now. Like a different dog.”

  “Most animals don’t want to hurt people. They just need to be treated right.” Hari stood up and held out the back of his hand. The dog sniffed it, then licked it.

  “He isn’t a ghost dog, that’s for sure!” Lizzie said, finally managing to smile. “Not one of Ma Sullivan’s ‘coo shees’ either.”

  “We just need to find his owners now,” said Hari. “And with all respect to Ma Sullivan, I doubt either of them is the devil.”

  “How do we find the owners?” Lizzie asked.

  “We follow the dog,” Hari said. “Go on, boy! Home!”

  The hound looked quizzically at Hari, then padded off through the cemetery. As they hurried after the hound, moving as silently as they could, Lizzie wondered if the dog wasn’t leading them into a trap even now. They were heading deeper into the cemetery than they’d ever gone before. She didn’t recognize any of the huge urns, tombs, and memorials that they passed.

  “Stay out of sight,” whispered Dru. “The grave robbers could be around any corner.”

  All three of them used the tombs for cover, darting quickly from one to the next, and only moving on when they knew the coast was clear. The hound seemed unconcerned as he trotted ahead of them. In the darkness, it was hard to keep track of where he was going. Lizzie just hoped Hari could keep him calm for long enough.

  From the corner of her eye, Lizzie noticed Dru passing a length of rope from one hand to the other. Did he really expect to leap out of the shadows, take the grave robbers by surprise, and tie them up? They weren’t dealing with pantomime villains here. These were men desperate enough to dig up the dead and steal from them.

  “I think he’s getting close,” whispered Hari. “Good dog.”

  Lizzie strode out into the dark. In the next moment, her foot caught on something. She fell forward and stifled a yelp as she landed heavily on her hands and knees on the cold, wet earth.

  A fierce pain was shooting up from her ankle. She felt around with her hands and found the temporary grave marker she’d tripped over. As she pulled herself up to sitting, something slimy grazed her hand. Lizzie recoiled in horror, but when she looked down it was only a worm, burying itself deeper into the soil. She shook her head. This cemetery was playing tricks on her mind.

  Lizzie wobbled to her feet and wiggled her ankle around. It was still sore, but she could walk on it. “Hari? Dru?” she whispered into the darkness. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. “Dru, if you’re playing games again, it’s not funny!”

  No answer came. The boys obviously hadn’t heard her stumble and had mov
ed on. There was nothing to do but to find her own way, Lizzie decided. Her friends couldn’t be much further ahead. She set off in the direction the dog had been headed in.

  The cemetery was like a labyrinth. All around, stone faces stared at her with blank eyes. Statues that the sculptor must have thought would be comforting now looked sinister and strange. They reached out to grab her with cold marble hands.

  A scream rose in Lizzie’s throat, but she choked it back. No. She couldn’t scream. She mustn’t. If the grave robbers were here, it would draw them straight to her. They’d had no luck drowning her, but Lizzie knew they’d be happy to get rid of her with shovels instead.

  Pull yourself together, girl! A graveyard’s just a piece of land full of stone statues and monuments, she scolded herself. All you have to do is find your way through it.

  Lizzie took a deep breath, slow and steady. Feeling calmer, she strained to hear the others. She thought she could hear someone whispering just past a tomb with a lion on top of it. She started in that direction, but the next moment a vision took hold of her. It was more powerful than anything she’d ever felt while she was reading palms.

  Becky was looking up from the bottom of an open grave. She was out of her mind with fear. She let out a terrified scream.

  The same scream, coming from across the graveyard, ripped through Lizzie’s vision. What she was seeing in her vision was happening right now!

  A figure loomed over Becky, a grim shadow in the night. One of the grave robbers? No — the figure was winged. It was an angel statue, holding out its arms as if to embrace someone. Lizzie fixed it in her memory.

  A lid slammed shut over Becky. Now there was only total darkness and the knowledge that the girl was trapped. Becky banged on the lid, but she couldn’t get out. She couldn’t breathe.

  As the vision faded, Lizzie desperately sucked in lungfuls of the night air. The vision was so vivid it had felt like she was suffocating too. Somewhere out there, Lizzie knew, it was happening to Becky for real.

  “Hold on, Becky!” she said. “I’m coming!”

  CHAPTER 13

 

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