The Demon Collector by Jon Mayhew Page B

Edgy’s pocket. ‘What’s Mr Janus going to think when you tell him about our meeting?’ She smoothed Edgy’s hair and whispered, ‘You could lie. Say you managed to run away or tell him you out-riddled me.’
    ‘You mean,’ Edgy said in a hoarse voice, ‘you’re gonna let me go?’
    Salomé laughed and wrinkled her nose. ‘Of course I am. You’re the best fun I’ve had in centuries. I only wanted to look at the letter. I could have tortured it out of that old goat Scrabsnitch but where’s the fun in that? Just don’t get too interested in Moloch – it’s not healthy.’ She jumped to her feet and, putting her hands behind her back, skipped up the roof. Edgy sat as if cemented to the roof edge, slack-jawed, watching her vanish over its apex.
     
    It took Edgy a full hour and a half to clamber down from the rooftops. His feet seemed to slip with every move and each step was torture. His body ached with dangling from gutters and his clothes were covered in soot and bird muck from the slates. Shame burned in his gut like a furnace. He’d wanted to please Janus. How could he tell him that Salomé had taken the message from Scrabsnitch so easily? Henry tumbled from the sack with an indignant yelp and shook himself.
    ‘Sorry, old friend,’ Edgy said. Henry gave another shake and licked the back of his hand.
    Edgy should have run from corner to corner, hiding behind fruit barrows and slipping into shop doorways. But what was the point? Salomé could kill him with the flick of her finger. A tall lady passed by, laughing out loud, making him flinch. Tears stung his eyes.
    A grey rain pelted down on Edgy as he trudged across Eden Square and up the steps to the Society.
    ‘Been busy?’ Slouch muttered from his sofa as Edgy staggered into the hall, soaking and dishevelled.
    ‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘How ’bout you?’
    ‘Rushed off me feet,’ Slouch yawned. He stopped and a frown slowly spread across his wrinkled brow. ‘What’s in the bag?’
    Surprised, Edgy pulled the book from the sack and showed him The Legends of Moloch .
    Slouch gave a shudder. ‘Read The Legend of Aldorath and Moloch ,’ he said. ‘It’s my favourite bedtime story.’
    Edgy grimaced, slumped on the floor and rested his back against the sofa. The book fell open at the chapter he wanted. Edgy began to read silently to himself.
    ‘Not like that,’ moaned Slouch from deep within the sofa. ‘Read it aloud. Like I said, it’s my favourite.’
    Heaving a sigh, Edgy began to read to the dozing demon.
    The Legend of Aldorath and Moloch
    Aldorath was a young demon who loved nothing more than making mortals dissatisfied. It was all he lived for. He was never happier than when whispering into a new bride’s ear, pointing out how her new husband snored so loudly at night and belched at the dinner table. He revelled in making young children dream of the toy their parents could never afford. Any misery Aldorath could think of, any reason to be miserable, he would whisper into mortal ears. As far as he was concerned, life was good for him when it was not satisfactory for mortals.
    Then one day he woke from a particularly poor slumber. He scratched his backside and belly as he wondered who to discontent today.
    And something strange happened.
    As he stood thinking, an emptiness, a feeling that something was missing, overcame him. Yes, he could go down to the old woodcutter in the forest and make him wish his son wasn’t such an idiot. But what was the point? Yes, he could visit the bakery and make the baker raise his prices and put chalk in his flour so he could make enough profit to buy a wig. But where was the challenge in that? Was this all life had to offer?
    Aldorath had made himself discontented and there was nothing he could do.
    Or so he thought.
    One day, as he sat on a tree stump, sighing, Satan chanced by.
    ‘And what is your complaint, my fine demon fellow?’ Satan asked.
    ‘I’m fed up and bored,’ said Aldorath, not