The Demon Curse by Simon Nicholson Page B

Daggerbeard snatched up the snakeskin. “Particular skins, particular feathers, particular seeds—we’ve got pretty much the exact stuff. And who’s to say, brought all together, that this junk doesn’t have some kind of magical power? Brave enough to lay your hands on it, are you? It didn’t have nothing to do with Mayor Monticelso, but who knows what else it can do?”
    He thrust the snakeskin at the fishermen, who scrambled back with their stools. They were reeling, and Harry felt like reeling too, even though his back was firmly against the wall. Mayor Monticelso’s book, detailing the Islanders’ rituals. Robbing apothecary and medicine shops all around New Orleans. The new pieces of information danced in his head, and he felt his face grow hot against the stinking net as he remembered the words that had raced from his lips earlier that day. Of course they’re behind it… He thought of how certain he had been that the two men, with their mysterious sack, were responsible for the mayor’s terrible state.
    They’re nothing to do with it. They’re just using the situation for their own grubby ends.
    â€œTwenty years we’ve been waiting for this moment.” Daggerbeard tossed the snakeskin at Yelloweyes, who caught it and dropped it back onto the table. “Us here, we’ve always felt the same about the Islanders, and maybe others have too. But not pretty much all of New Orleans, like it is now.”
    â€œThat Oscar Dupont, he’s doing a fine job.” Yelloweyes shuffled from the table, brushing his hands on his coat. “Whipped up an angry crowd…”
    â€œIt’ll be even angrier soon,” Daggerbeard continued. “They just need leading on. Some bait, something to catch their eyes.” He jerked a thumb back toward the snakeskin, feathers, and seeds. “And that’s what we’ve got. Just need to put it where we need it, that’s all.”
    â€œWe’ll go back. We know the way in now—it’ll be even easier!” Yelloweyes was taking his turn to circle. “Who can blame us for deciding to go back later, when we were disturbed? If we’d been caught, we two might have been the ones to get the blame for the demon curse then, not the Islanders—any of you thought of that? But we’ll finish the job, don’t you worry! We’ll plant it all under the floorboards, like we said.”
    â€œIt’ll sit there, an undiscovered clue.” Daggerbeard grinned. “But it’ll be discovered soon enough. Maybe the police will get that little note, or maybe it’ll be Oscar Dupont—haven’t decided yet.” His grin widened. “One way or another, our little sack of stuff will see the light again and then…”
    â€œFisherman’s Point will be ours.” Yelloweyes slapped a fist into a palm. “As for Mayor Monticelso, gripped by a demon curse—who knows who’s responsible for that…and who cares!”
    Harry’s face grew even hotter. The damp strands of net, warmed by his blushing skin, released their stench even more freely. Wrong, so wrong. He stared through the net at the items on the table. Exactly the same as the ones in the ritual , he thought. The fishermen had worked with care. Unlike me. He remembered looking down at that table just a few minutes before, startled and amazed, trying to move the bits and pieces about in his mind: sluggish, slow, fumbling. So wrong…
    â€œFisherman’s Point—the best bit of fisherman’s land in New Orleans or anywhere near it!” Daggerbeard bellowed at the fishermen.
    â€œWe’ve always deserved that land. Since always!” Yelloweyes snapped. “Not right that they have it. Decent land deserves decent folk living on it. Perfect for building jetties, as we all know. Catches the currents leading down to the sea too…”
    â€œAnd the best thing about our plan