Dimwater's Demons by Sam Ferguson Read Free Book Online

Eleanor bit her lip and fidgeted with her fingers as she stepped into the room. A short, balding man sat behind the far counter with a strange apparatus hanging around the crown of his head by a long strap that secured it in place. He looked up, one of his brown eyes covered by a series of round magnifying lenses. He reached up and slipped the strange hat off, setting it onto the table next to a ring that was held in some sort of metal vice.
    “Come in, come in,” Horace said as he stood up and placed a hand on the small of his back, leaning into a stretch and groaning. “You are little Miss Eleanor Hughes, aren’t you?” Horace said with a wagging finger. “I’ve been expecting you.”
    Eleanor approached the counter and stared up at the man. He smiled wide from ear to ear, but somehow it seemed less sincere than anyone else’s smile she had seen lately. Even the physician had appeared to be more genuine. Horace had shifty eyes that hardly stayed upon Eleanor. They constantly flicked back up to the doorway, or over to the window as he leaned over the counter and spoke to her.
    “I have something for you,” he said quietly.
    Eleanor nodded. “Yes, my mum told me,” she said.
    Horace nodded and narrowed his eyes on her. “How is your mother?”
    Eleanor didn’t want to answer Horace. Each time she acknowledged what had happened, it felt as if it made it more final. Somewhere inside of her, there remained a sliver of hope that perhaps she could yet wake from this horrid day, and that maybe it was all just a terrible nightmare.
    “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Horace asked.
    “She’s dead,” Eleanor answered dully, wincing as she felt that sliver of hope deep within herself shrink a bit more.
    Horace nodded and tapped the counter with a finger. “I see,” he said flatly. His eyes ceased shifting around the room and he bent forward to gently take Eleanor’s shoulders in each of his hands. “Keep your chin up, yeah? That’s what she would want you to do.”
    Eleanor didn’t need a lecture from Horace. She pulled back and reached into her pocket. “My mum said to give you this. Then she said you would have instructions for me.” She fished out the ivory comb and set it upon the counter.
    Horace’s greedy eyes lit up, sparkling wildly as his smile returned. This time, Eleanor believed the expression to be genuine.
    “Did you know that in the Middle Kingdom, ivory is more valuable than gold? It is only found in the Eastern Wilds, and even there it is a rare thing to find, and usually comes at a high cost of life,” Horace said.
    Horace had always had a hunger for expensive items that most people found unhealthy. He wasn’t a cheat, but he was always sure to play any bargain to his favor, and he never seemed to be pleased with his fortune. It was one of the reasons someone of his wealth dealt with people from the slums. Sometimes he preyed upon their desperation, other times he conspired with someone down on their luck to acquire items in a less than honorable fashion. Despite the rumors, Horace had never been caught by the authorities. Even when his first wife left him and threatened to have him arrested, nothing ever happened to Horace. That was why he was called Lucky Bagman.
    The man held up the comb and quickly turned to lock it into a silver chest that sat upon a shelf over his workstation. He was still smiling when he turned back to Eleanor.
    “Wait here a moment, will you?” he said before disappearing into a door that led to a back room. Eleanor could hear the scrape of a box being pulled from a shelf somewhere in the other room. A metallic click was then followed by a squeaky hinge and the rustling of papers. Horace returned seconds later, a small bundle wrapped in brown paper in his hands and sealed with twine.
    “What is this?” Eleanor said as she held out her hand.
    Horace held the package back and shook his head. “First, the instructions.” Horace walked out from around