The Spider: Chapter 14-15

Part 2

Chapter 1-4| Chapters 5-6| Chapters 7-8|Chapters 9-11| Chapter 12|Chapter 13|Chapter 14-15|Chapter 16-17|Chapter 18-19 | Chapter 20|Chapter 21 |Chaper 22-23|Chapter 24-25.|26-27|28-29|30/Epilogue.

The spider is a gothic horror novel set in Victorian England. Recap: Part 1 ended with the seance. After weeks of paranoia and things going bump in the night, Frances came face to face with Mary.

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14 

Autumn in the city had been wet, laden with fog and a still, damp chill that settled in the bone by evening. From the tall red chimneys of the factories, the smoke rose, poisoning mother nature’s sweet breath and staining it with hues of yellow, grey and black. Down on the river, horns blasted as ships rolled in, waiting impatiently for the dockers to unload. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and burning coal, sinking into the street with a dense, ominous smog. Hordes of dockers and ragged children shuffled down toward the factories and warehouses, barely looking up as they walked.

 Further up the hill, amidst the bustle of bankers and traders heading to their respective places of work, a small urchin weaved his way through overcoats, shoes and trams, missing some of them by a hair. Like a shadow, the boy was gone within a blink, appearing again on the far side of the perilous cobbled street. Some days, he’d stay closer to the crowds and see what he could find in their pockets, but today he was on a mission. Dodging horse droppings, cigarette butts and the trample of boots, eight-year-old Paulie McRae could have impersonated a phantom, he was so swift. No informant had ever been so masterful at such a young age. 

Waiting for the boy on a quiet corner of the street was Inspector Daniel Muldoon, his breath rising before him in wisps of white cloud. He chewed his tobacco pensively, watching for the boy to reappear. His hands were firmly settled in his pockets as he looked out at the rows of sad, brick buildings that occupied his line of sight. When the boy had successfully crossed the street, Muldoon greeted him with a solemn nod. “You ought to get yourself some new shoes, Paulie,” he said, looking down at the boy’s filthy, bare feet on the pavement. 

“Last time I had shoes, me da beat me. He says he needs all me slummy.” The boy handed him a scrap of paper. Muldoon eyed him up and down and noticed the threadbare shirt, torn trousers that he’d long outgrown and shuddered. Winter would be cold. 

Muldoon took the note from the boy and began to open it. “What’s he needing the money for?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.