The Lazarus Curse

by Darren Craske

  Destine folded her arms. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘And? Is that the best you can do? Possibly? You can be so infuriating at times, have I ever told you that?’ spat Quaint.

  ‘On a very frequent basis,’ parried Madame Destine. ‘My sweet, do not allow these thoughts to mar the celebrations of our return. Our friends will be overjoyed to see us once again, you will see. They will be begging to hear tales of our Egyptian adventures, and they will have little care for anything else. And yet, I agree that perhaps discretion might be in order.’

  ‘You mean you want us to lie?’

  ‘Not a lie,’ said Madame Destine. ‘A misdirection. A talent that you excel at.’

  They made their way through the train towards the galley where the circus performers ate and relaxed, but it was empty. Nearing lunchtime, that was rare. Quaint checked his pocket-watch to make sure there was no error on his part.

  ‘Where can they be?’ he asked.

  Venturing deeper along the train with Destine at his back, Quaint discovered that everywhere seemed just as deserted as the galley. Not a single soul was to be seen anywhere, which was more than just rare, it was downright suspicious.

  ‘You don’t think there’s anything wrong, do you?’ he asked Destine.

  ‘Cornelius, we are home. What could possibly be wrong here?’

  Brushing his nerves aside, Quaint moved along the carriages and soon arrived at his office. He reached for the doorknob and gave it a twist. It would not budge. The wooden shutters on the door and windows were down. He gave the doorknob one more try but still it would not open.

  ‘Locked,’ he said, patting down his pockets. ‘Damn it! Where are my spare keys?’

  ‘Allow me, mon cher,’ Destine said, gently elbowing him out of the way. She held the doorknob firmly between thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle wiggle. With a satisfactory ‘click-clack’, the door swung open. ‘Voilà!’ she announced. ‘All it required was a woman’s touch.’

  Quaint scowled at her as he stepped inside – instantly greeted with a rapturous wall of applause, cheers and whoops of delight. ‘Surprise!’ cheered the accumulated conglomeration of circus performers as they swarmed around the couple, their faces alight with elation. Quaint caught a brief glimpse of Destine’s expression through the mass of cuddles and hugs. She looked ten years younger, elated to be back amongst friends once more.

  ‘You knew about this?’ Quaint called over to her.

  She tapped her forehead. ‘I can see the future, and you know how I hate to spoil surprises.’

  Quaint smiled. ‘A talent that you excel at, Madame.’

  ‘Touché, my sweet,’ said Destine.

  The welcoming committee gradually died down, and Cornelius Quaint stood behind his desk like a preacher conducting a sermon, with Madame Destine seated in a chair by his side. Quaint looked around at the faces of his troupe, those that he admired, respected – even loved to a certain degree – and he felt rejuvenated in their presence. He was more than just an employer to these people, as they were more to than just employees to him. There was Ruby, the young knife-thrower and part-time mechanic, as skilled with a wrench as she was with a blade. Next to her were the clowns, Jeremiah and his dwarf sidekick Peregrine – both in full clownish regalia. The Chinese acrobatic identical twins Yin and Yang were inseparable as always, clad in matching black and white leotards, and beside them was Quaint’s deputy, the Inuit known as Butter. At the far end of the office stood the most conspicuous of all the circus troupe – the gigantic Irish strongman called Prometheus.

  Quaint’s career as a conjuror was almost fading into distant memory, he had been gone so long. He had dearly missed an audience. Holding up his hands to quell their chatter, the carriage fell silent as he spoke:

  ‘Thank you for such a warm welcome, my friends. I can’t say how good it feels to be home. The time that Destine and I spent in Egypt was made all the harder knowing that we were parted from you all. I realise that we took our leave rather abruptly; such was the importance of the task laid before us… but we’re back now and normal business is resumed. But there’s just one thing that’s puzzling me… who gave you miserable crowd time off?’

  With a rousing cheer and a few pointed fingers in Butter’s direction, the gathering rose to its feet to surround Madame Destine and Quaint once more. Everyone was in a flurry of elation. The missing pieces of their jigsaw puzzle had been found, and they slotted easily back into place. Soon the office was full of cheer, with everyone singing and dancing.

  All except one.

  Cornelius Quaint consciously separated himself from the throng, and walked over to the large rectangular window of his office. Spying his detachment, Madame Destine approached him.

  ‘Cornelius, what is it?’

  ‘I would give you three guesses, but I doubt you’d need them.’

  ‘You refer to the business with Professor North?’

  ‘Told you.’

  ‘My sweet, you have done all you can,’ began Destine, hoping that now that he was within his family once more, the cloud hanging over his head would move on. But she knew him better than that. Even on the clearest of days if there was a cloud to be found in the sky, it would be located above Cornelius Quaint’s head. ‘You informed Master Barnaby of the infection that plagued the Silver Swan, and now surely he will inform the correct authorities. The Professor will no longer be a threat to the Queen, or to anyone else… of that I am sure.’

  Quaint flashed her a hopeful smile. ‘Is that your clairvoyance talking or are you just trying to make me feel better?’

  Madame Destine’s eyes fell to the floor.

  ‘Thought so,’ said Quaint. ‘We both know that Barnaby will have enough on his plate trying to explain what happened to the Silver Swan. And no doubt his mood will be discoloured once he finds out that the Port Authorities have no recollection of one Cornelius Quaint, nor authorisation of any unscheduled tests of Dover’s quarantine procedures. As far as he will be concerned, I misled him… and to quite a considerable degree. What I told him about the Professor went in one ear and out the other.’

  ‘And so…?’ urged Destine.

  ‘And so what?’ asked Quaint. ‘What other choice do I have but to ensure the message gets through than to deliver it in person?’

  ‘We shall go to the police in the morning, and let that be an end to it,’ said Destine, firmly. ‘We shall go to Scotland Yard, and we shall tell them all that occurred in Egypt, how we learned of Cho-zen Li’s plot to murder Queen Victoria.’

  Quaint smiled. ‘Destine, that’s a fantastic idea!’

  ‘It is?’ asked Destine, with an unexpected jolt.

  ‘We’ll tell them how your old friend Aloysius warned you twenty years ago about a Chinaman’s plot to use an invisible bacterium passed on by touch, but your subconscious blocked the memory from you until only recently, and said Chinaman has now infected an archaeologist with said bacterium in an effort to try to kill the Queen. And if the police ask us for proof, we’ll just tell them that Aloysius’s ghost told you. It’s genius, Madame, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before!’

  Destine scowled. ‘Sarcasm does not suit you, Cornelius.’

  ‘Naivety doesn’t suit you, Madame,’ Quaint growled.

  Destine turned away from him, hissing under her breath. ‘What is going on inside that head of yours, hmm? It is almost as if you go out of your way to infuriate me. No, let me correct myself… it is exactly as if you go out of your way to infuriate me! Usually my gifts give me insight to your emotions, but recently you have become adept at hiding them from me. Or did you think that I had not noticed?’

  ‘Hoped,’ said Quaint.

  ‘We are home now, my sweet. Amongst our family and friends; where we have longed to be for many months, and yet here you stand. Distant. What will it take to make you happy?’

  ‘If I find out, I’ll let you know,’ said Quaint, lowering his voice. ‘You know that I’m having a hard time dealing
with our… condition. Everything has taken on new meaning since I drank that elixir! Here I am gifted with eternal life, and all I can think about is my death – or the lack of it. Just as I was beginning to get used to all that I’ve accomplished in my life, I find that I’ve not even scratched the surface. It’s like I’m almost reaching the end of a marathon and then someone tells me that I’m still only halfway!’

  The clairvoyant had not seen this coming. He had hidden the maelstrom inside of him so well. Could it be that he sensed that the storm clouds were already gathering?

  ‘Cornelius… my sweet, listen to me… do not dwell on matters of your death. As for our condition, as you put it, you speak as if you have lost something, when in truth it is just going to take some time to adjust to what you have gained.’

  ‘More riddles, Madame?’

  ‘Advice, Cornelius… something that you avoid whenever it suits you,’ replied Madame Destine, firmly. ‘Whilst we were in Egypt my clairvoyant gifts were absent, remember? I had not realised it, but they had become a crutch that I had begun to rely on more and more. So much so that I felt utterly lost without them.’

  ‘Yes, but they came back,’ said Quaint.

  ‘And stronger than ever, but the point is that during all that time, I did not falter despite my uncertainty,’ said Destine. ‘I learned to function without them, adapting to life without my visions to guide me. It was not easy, but all the while I felt as if I was being tested.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘By life, fate, destiny… however you wish to label it,’ replied Destine. ‘I believe that in order to become at peace with our transformation we must first pass a trial. If you succeed, then you will have proven that you are worthy. But to pass, in doing so you must be forced to lose the very thing you cherish the most. I lost my gifts of clairvoyance, and you… ’

  ‘What?’ asked Quaint, hungrily. ‘What have I lost?’

  ‘Only you can know that, my sweet.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the point. I don’t know.’

  ‘Then perhaps you are not yet worthy of your gift.’

  ‘And what if I’m never worthy? What then?’ asked Quaint.

  ‘If a life is what you make of it, then an immortal life is doubly so,’ replied Destine, trying to coax a smile from the conjuror (and failing miserably). ‘Whatever challenges the future may bring, we shall face them together, and as always I shall do my best to guide you.’

  ‘Always my compass, eh?’ Quaint asked.

  ‘And do not forget it,’ said Destine, as she stifled a yawn within her hand. ‘Now, I must rest. The celebrations have gone on late enough, and I am far too weary to impart any more wisdom tonight, apart from this one last thought. When you hold onto something so tightly you only run the risk of it slipping through your fingers.’

  Quaint nodded, knowing that there was always an underlining message to Destine’s words. ‘Let me guess… this is the part where you warn me about doing something rash, even though we both know that I’m going to do it anyway. You know me better than anyone, Madame.’

  ‘And yet I am still constantly surprised,’ said the Frenchwoman. ‘Just promise me one thing, Cornelius; whatever hare-brained scheme you are cooking up inside that woolly head of yours, just make sure that you give it due thought for a change.’

  Quaint plucked his bottom lip. ‘Hmm. Due thought… yes, I think I’m vaguely familiar with the concept. All right, I promise. Sleep well, Madame.’

  ‘I would say the same… but we both know that you will not sleep a wink.’

  Chapter VII

  The Harebrained Scheme

  Cornelius Quaint did not prove his clairvoyant confidante wrong. He had not slept a wink, but only because he was too busy fulfilling his promise to give due thought to the harebrained scheme that he was cooking up inside his woolly head.

  The following morning, Quaint held court in his office onboard the train. It was a similar scene to the night before, only this time the troupe were far from elated as the conjuror told of what he and Destine had uncovered whilst in Egypt.

  ‘And so there it is, my friends… the entire grisly episode,’ he said, finally. ‘Now, I can’t just assume that Dover’s harbourmaster has alerted the relevant authorities about Cho-zen Li’s plot and be done with it, and so I’m forced to try something very risky; something that will test my abilities to their limits. I shall be in peril, under pressure, with my back against the wall, no doubt breaking several laws in the process. I know that I have no right to ask this of you… but I could really do with some help.’

  Yin and Yang, the Chinese acrobats, were the first to volunteer.

  ‘You can rely on us, Mr Q!’ they cheered in unison.

  Soon, the rest of the office echoed their consent. Butter, Ruby, even Jeremiah and Peregrine – but the vote of confidence was far from unanimous. Prometheus the strongman’s bearded face resembled a deflated balloon.

  ‘Am I the only one that thinks this is absolute madness?’ the Irishman snapped. ‘Just as I was beginning to get used to peace and quiet, back you come to stir things up again, Cornelius! I know you mean well, but this is the bloody Queen of England we’re talking about here! It can’t be up to a bunch of circus performers to save the day, it just can’t! What about the police, for crying out loud!’

  ‘What about them?’ asked Quaint. ‘Do you really think they’d believe me? The answer to that is no, Prom, you know it is. This bacterium is invisible, remember? The only signs that you’re infected are after it’s too damned late to do anything about it. It has fallen to us to ensure that our worst nightmares don’t come to pass and we have to act!’

  ‘Us? We?’ snorted Prometheus. ‘Why are you always getting involved in matters that don’t concern you?’

  ‘Someone intends to murder the Queen, and you don’t think that concerns me?’

  ‘Mr Q, I thought you said this Professor North woman had disappeared,’ interrupted Ruby Marstrand. ‘So if we don’t have the slightest clue where she is, how can we do anything to stop her?’

  Quaint answered in a beat:

  ‘In just over one week, on the fifth of February, Polly will be the guest of honour at Buckingham Palace. But Queen Victoria is not the only personage of importance who will be in attendance. The Prime Minister and his cabinet officials will also be there, as will various aristocrats and foreign dignitaries. The affluent, the scholarly, pioneers of science and archaeology, the Professor’s field – and if she’s allowed to get within touching distance she’ll kill them all. London will be in chaos, Europe in uproar. We don’t have time to wait for someone to believe our story!’

  ‘I probably don’t want to know, but what are you planning?’ asked Prometheus.

  ‘We’re going to break into Buckingham Palace,’ was Quaint’s reply.

  Quite understandably, there followed directly the literal definition of an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘What did he just say?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘He said we’re going to break into Buckingham Palace,’ said Yin.

  ‘That’s what I thought he said. But… why would he say such a thing?’

  ‘Because that’s the way his mind works, Rubes,’ said Yang.

  ‘Is that even possible?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘This is Mr Q, remember?’ said Yang. ‘Little things like whether it’s actually possible or not have never put him off before.’

  ‘Does anything?’ asked Prometheus.

  ‘Do you mind not talking about me as if I’m not here?’ said Quaint, gruffly.

  ‘This is a really bad idea,’ said Ruby. ‘No, it’s an insane idea! We’re all going to get locked up in the Tower of London!’

  ‘That’s hardly likely, my dear,’ said Quaint. ‘They’ll probably just hang us and be done with it. But only if we get caught… which naturally, isn’t on my agenda.’

  Butter chewed on his lips, rarely one to speak, and never against his employer. ‘Perhaps we listen to boss’s plan, then make minds up after, y
es?’

  ‘Mine’s already made up, lad!’ said Prometheus, and the whole carriage shook as the giant got to his feet.

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with Prom, Mr Q,’ said Ruby.

  ‘And I too,’ said Yin. ‘It’s madness for sure.’

  ‘Or at the very least suicidal,’ added Yang.

  ‘Potentially almost definitely,’ agreed Yin.

  Butter tugged on Quaint’s jacket sleeve. ‘Boss, you only tease, yes? You seriously not to consider breaking into palace.’ The Inuit watched the conjuror’s expression carefully, waiting for the sign that the worrying ache in his stomach was all for nothing. It never came. ‘You are serious!’

  ‘If you lot could only hear yourselves!’ snapped Quaint, looking around the room. With the exception of Butter, every one of them was already stood up, making the show of defiance somewhat laughable. ‘Look, if it makes you feel any better, breaking into the palace will be our last resort. I plan on intercepting the Professor long before she makes it that far. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I’ve thought it through!’

  Prometheus snorted. ‘First time for everything.’

  ‘No, really, I have. And this time I’ve got a plan!’ insisted Quaint.

  Prometheus snorted again. ‘Well, there’s progress, at least. So cough up then, Cornelius, what’s this plan of yours then, eh?’

  ‘Right,’ Quaint began, ‘now, it’ll come as a surprise to no one to learn that Buckingham Palace is just about the most heavily guarded place in all of England. Additionally, this gala dinner is attracting the darlings of society; ergo, we can expect security to increase exponentially. If we’re going to do this, it’s got to be now, because we only have a few days to rehearse.’ Quaint glanced around the room at the troupe, seeing their anxious expressions looking up at him, trying his best to hide his own. ‘So… are you with me?’