The Demon Curse by Simon Nicholson Page A

Yelloweyes, who were sitting by an upturned boat hull. The faces were suspicious, and Harry heard mutterings, snarls. But they fell silent as Daggerbeard rose and walked toward the sack on the table.
    The brazier’s flames brightened as he lurched past. Shadows of his bulk slanted around the boathouse. He reached for the sack and emptied it. Feathers, snakeskins, and seeds spilled onto the table. Daggerbeard pointed at the items.
    â€œThe demon curse. Don’t you worry; it’ll do for its victims.” His voice growled through a thin smile. “ The Islanders , I mean.”
    Harry narrowed his eyes, and he saw Billie doing the same. His hand tightened on her arm. The fishermen were still motionless, but Daggerbeard’s shadows hurtled around the room as he strode around the circle.
    â€œWe’ll free this town of them. Every last one of them!” Daggerbeard growled.
    â€œAbout time! Filthy folk with their dangerous ways!” Yelloweyes glared at the sack’s contents. “Who knows if that stuff of theirs summons demons or not? But once we’ve done the job, once we’ve tucked it under the floorboards just where Monticelso’s sleeping, once we’ve sent a little note to the New Orleans police telling them where to look, that little sack’ll whisk up demons of one kind, just you see!”
    â€œThere’ll be rioting in the streets! The Islanders’ll be forced to run. No one’ll have a doubt they’re behind the demon curse, and they’ll be gone. And we know what happens then, don’t we?” Daggerbeard swung around. “It’ll be ours! Fisherman’s Point!”
    Fisherman’s Point. The words echoed around the boathouse. Harry listened to every lingering trace of them, and with each echo, the business became clearer to him. So that’s what’s going on—these men want the Islanders’ land. Huddled behind the net, he watched the fishermen, who had scowls on their faces and were snarling at Daggerbeard and his friend.
    â€œThat’s all very well, but when, eh?”
    â€œThree days ago, you asked for our money. What’s happened since?”
    â€œNothing, that’s what! You tried this plan of yours, and you failed!”
    â€œNow you’re asking for more money—”
    â€œSure we are!” Daggerbeard bellowed. “It’s turned out more difficult than we thought, every bit of it! Right from the very start—pickpocketing the keys from one of the city hall servants. Any of you quick enough to do that? First we had to find out where they hung out and smoked their pipes, near that alleyway. Then there was the snatching itself.” From his jacket, he took out a length of fishing line, a tiny hook dangling from it. His burly hand performed a complicated move, flicking the hook away and reeling it back in again. “Used my fisherman’s skills. Walked past him, dropped the hook into his pocket, and the keys just flew into my hand.”
    â€œBut that’s not all we got! Information too—we eavesdropped on them, hiding in the alleyway,” Yelloweyes added. “That’s how we learned when the mayor would be taken out of his bedroom for his treatment, leaving us time to do the work. Clever, eh? And then there’s the charms, getting hold of the charms! The Islanders weren’t going to just hand us some, were they?” Yelloweyes jabbed a finger at the items on the table, then reached into his pocket and drew out a leather-bound book. “Mayor Monticelso’s own book, all about those filthy Islanders and their ways! All about their magic too! Wouldn’t have been any good to you though—most of you can’t even read.”
    â€œAnd you wouldn’t have had the guts for what we did next either: going around pretty much every apothecary and Chinese medicine shop in town, shaking them down, searching for the exact items we needed!”