These four were hurrying to a blaze in Treacle Mine Road. Tongues of fire curled out of first-floor rooms.
‘Are you from the paper?’ said a man in the crowd.
‘Yes,’ said William.
‘Well, I reckon this is another case of mysterious spontaneous combustion, just like you reported yesterday,’ and he craned his neck to see if William was writing this down.
William groaned. Sacharissa had reported a fire in Lobbin Clout, in which one poor soul had died, and had left it at that. But the Inquirer had called it a Mystery Fire.
I’m not sure that one was very mysterious,’ he said. ‘Old Mr Hardy decided to light a cigar and forgot that he was bathing his feet in turpentine.’ Apparently someone had told him this was a cure for athlete’s foot and, in a way, they had been right.
That’s what they say,’ said the man, tapping his nose. ‘But there’s a lot we don’t get told.’
‘That’s true,’ said William. ‘I heard only the other day that giant rocks hundreds of miles across crash into the country every week, but the Patrician hushes it up.’
There you are, then,’ said the man. ‘It’s amazing the way they treat us as if we’re stupid.’
‘Yes, it’s a puzzle to me, too,’ said William.
‘Gangvay, gangvay, please!’
Otto pushed through the onlookers, struggling under the weight
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of a device the size and general shape of an accordion. He elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, balanced the device on its tripod and aimed it at a golem who was climbing out of a smoking window holding a small child.
‘All right, boys, zis is zer big vun!’ he said, and raised the flash cage. ‘Vun, two, thre– aarghaarghaarghaargh
The vampire became a cloud of gently settling dust. For a moment something hovered in the air. It looked like a small jar on a necklace made of string.
Then it fell and smashed on the cobbles.
The dust mushroomed up, took on a shape . . . and Otto stood blinking and running his hands over himself to check that he was all there. He caught sight of William and gave him the kind of big broad smile that only a vampire can give.
‘Mr Villiam! It vorked, your idea!’
‘Er . . . which one?’ said William. A thin plume of yellow smoke was creeping out from under the lid of the big iconograph.
‘You said carry a little drop of emergency b-vord,’ said Otto. ‘Zo I thought: if it is in a little bottle around my neck, zen if I crumble to dust, hoopla! It vill crash and smash unt here I am!’
He lifted the lid of the iconograph and waved the smoke away. There was the sound of very small coughing from within. ‘And if I am not mistaken, ve have a successfully etched picture! All of vich only goes to show vot ve can achieve ven our brains are not clouded by thoughts of open vindows and bare necks, vich never cross my mind at all zese days because I am completely beetotal.’
Otto had made changes to his clothing. Away had gone the traditional black evening dress preferred by his species, to be replaced by an armless vest containing more pockets than William had ever seen on one garment. Many of them were stuffed with packets of imp food, extra paint, mysterious tools and other essentials of the iconographer’s art.
In deference to tradition, though, Otto had made it black, with a red silk lining, and had added tails.
On making gentle inquiries of a family watching disconsolately as the smoke from the fire was turned to steam, William ascertained that the blaze had been mysteriously caused by mysterious
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spontaneous combustion in an overflowing mysterious chip pan full of boiling fat.
William left them picking through the blackened remains of their home.
‘And it’s just a story,’ he said, putting away the notebook. It does makes me feel a bit of a vampire– oh . . . sorry.’
‘It is okay,’ said Otto. I understand. And I should like to thank you for givink me zis job. It means a lot to me, especially since I can see how nervous you are. Vich is understandable, of course.’
‘I’m not nervous! I’m very much at home with other species!’ said William hotly.
Otto’s expression was amicable, but it was also as penetrative as the smile of a vampire can be.
‘Yes, I notice how careful you are to be friendly with the dvarfs and you are kind to me, also. It is a big effort vich is very commendable–‘
William opened his mouth to protest, and gave up. ‘All right, look, it’s the way I was brought up, all right? My father was definitely very . . . in favour of humanity, well, ha, not humanity in the sense of. . . I mean, it was more that he was against–‘
‘Yes, yes, I understand.’
‘And that’s all there is to it, okay? We can all decide who we’re going to be!’
‘Yes, yes, sure. And if you vant any advice about vimmin, you only have to ask.’
‘Why should I want advice about vi– women?’
‘Oh, no reason. No reason at all,’ said Otto innocently.
‘Anyway, you’re a vampire. What advice could a vampire give me about women?’
‘Oh, my vord, vake up and smell zer garlic! Oh, zer stories I could tell you.’ Otto paused. ‘But I von’t because I don’t do zat sort of thing any more, now that I have seen the daylight.’ He nudged William, who was red with embarrassment. ‘Let us just say, zey don’t alvays scream.’
‘That’s a bit tasteless, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, that vas in zer bad old days,’ said Otto hurriedly. ‘Now I like nothing better than a nice mug of cocoa and a good sing-song
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around zer harmonium, I assure you. Oh, yes. My vord.’
Getting into the office to write up the story turned out to be a problem. In fact, so was getting into Gleam Street.
Otto caught William up as he stood and stared.
‘Veil, I suppose ve asked for it,’ he shouted. Tventy-five dollars is a lot of money.’
‘What?’ shouted William.
‘I SAID TVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS IS A LOT OF MONEY, VILLIAM!’
‘WHAT?’
Several people pushed past them. They were carrying dogs. Everyone in Gleam Street was carrying a dog, or leading a dog, or being dragged by a dog, or being savaged, despite the owner’s best efforts, by a dog belonging to someone else. The barking had already gone beyond mere sounds, and was now some kind of perceptible force, hitting the eardrums like a hurricane made of scrap iron.
William pulled the vampire into a doorway, where the din was merely unbearable.
‘Can’t you do something?’ he screamed. ‘Otherwise we’ll never get through!’
‘Like vot?’
‘Well, you know . . . all that children of the night business?’
‘Oh, zat,’ said Otto. He looked glum. ‘Zat’s really very stereotypical, you know. Vy don’t you ask me to turn into a bat vhile you’re about it? I told you, I don’t do zat stuff no more!’
‘Have you got a better idea?’
A few feet away a Rottweiler was doing its best to eat a spaniel.
‘Oh, very veil.’ Otto waved his hands vaguely.
The barking ceased instantly. And then every dog sat on its haunches and howled.
‘Not a huge improvement, but at least they’re not fighting,’ said William, hurrying forward.
‘Veil, I’m sorry. Stake me as you pass,’ said Otto. ‘I shall have a very embarrassing five minutes explaining this at the next meeting, you understand? I know it’s not zer . . . sucking item, but I mean, vun should care about zer look of zer thing
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They climbed over a rotting fence and entered the shed via the back door.
People and dogs were squeezing in through the other door and were only held at bay by a barricade of desks and also by Sacharissa, who was looking harassed as she faced a sea of faces and muzzles. William could just make out her voice above the din.
‘–no, that’s a poodle. It doesn’t look a bit like the dog we’re after–‘
‘–no, that’s not it. How do I know? Because it’s a cat. All right, then why’s it washing itself? No, I’m sorry, dogs don’t do that–‘
‘–no, madam, that’s a bulldog–‘
‘–no, that’s not it. No, sir, I know that’s not it. Because it’s a parrot, that’s why. You’ve taught it to bark and you’ve painted “DoG” on the side of it but it’s still a parrot–‘
Sacharissa pushed her hair out of her eyes and caught sight of William.
‘Well, now, who’s been a clever boy?’ she said.
‘Wh’s a cl’r boy? said the DoG.
‘How many more out there?’
‘Hundreds, I’m afraid,’ said William.
‘Well, I’ve just had the most unpleasant half-hour of– That’s a chicken! It’s a chicken, you stupid woman, it’s just laid an egg\ – of my life and I would like to thank you very much. You’ll never guess what happened? No, that’s a Shnauswitzer! And you know what, William?’