The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors Read Online Free PDF Page B

stood a foot or so above the lake and then bent at a right angle and travelled parallel to the surface towards
the shore, where they entered the side of a pump house. The pump house was attached by the same exiting pipes to a much larger windowless building. Signs on the walls of the building and treen
notices hammered into the ground along the shore warned in letters big enough to read even from this side of the pit:
     
    LDTC
    L EUCER D ’A VIDUS T AR C OMPANY
    R EFINERY AND F ILTRATION
    N O E NTRY
    TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
     
    But Folly wasn’t interested in Governor d’Avidus’s tar business. She turned her attention back to the pit. A thick mist hung just above the febrile surface
some distance from the shore. Folly fixed her gaze on it.
    ‘Well, hello again,’ she murmured, and her heart gave a little jump as the swirling haze seemed to separate and
they
came into view. Now she could see that the mist was
actually a horde of luminous shadows hovering above the tarry broth. The shadows were flitting from side to side in obvious agitation. The wind brought to her ears their incessant moaning and
wailing.
    ‘The Lurids of Degringolade,’ she breathed. ‘Desperate as ever to be set free!’
    As she watched the nebulous Lurids something changed in their behaviour. They stopped their aimless meanderings and all turned to face the same direction – Folly’s direction. As one,
the group advanced slowly across the pit. Closer and closer came the ephemeral shades, murderers and violent criminals in life, no different in death. Folly felt rising fear but she stood her
ground. They came to the very edge of the pit, but no footprints marked their presence, and they reached out with their pale skeletal arms, moaning and wailing like keening at a wake, held back by
an invisible force.
    Close up, the Lurids of Degringolade were a most terrible sight to behold, with their crooked necks and lifeless eyes, and their earthly crimes reflected in their wretched expressions. There was
not a man alive who would not feel repulsed. Folly shivered violently. She could feel their cold touch; she could hear their desperate breaths and smell their stench. It was the stench of vile
hearts.
    ‘Free us!’ they entreated. ‘Free us!’
    Folly willed herself to stay calm. She knew the Lurids couldn’t harm her; they were trapped in the pit, unable to cross the burning salt marsh, but still her heart beat faster. She
steadied her breathing and tried to hold the gaze of the vile faces that lined up before her, clamouring with their gurning mouths. But in the presence of such a ghoulish horde she couldn’t
help herself and her hand went to her belt and she drew out a curious short-handled three-pronged weapon. She thrust it forward at the hissing, imploring crowd and instantly the Lurids froze. Then,
with screams of unexpurgated rage, they turned and fled in distress back to the centre of the boiling liquid. Folly breathed a sigh of relief and replaced the weapon.
    There was a sudden movement to her left and automatically she crouched down and scrambled behind one of the salt pillars. Her first thought was that a Lurid had broken free and her hand went
again to her weapon, but, no, it was a mere mortal who approached, a tall cloaked man.
    The newcomer was making his way awkwardly down the slope, muttering from behind his gas mask. He went straight to the edge of the tar and stared out at the mass of Lurids. Once again they rushed
forward, and the man reached into his cloak, revealing a shimmering green lining, and pulled out what looked like a long stick.
    Not a stick, a bone, realized Folly. Intrigued and fearful, she waited to see what he would do next. She could not have anticipated the sequence of events that followed.
    The man remained at the edge of the tar, leaning forward slightly. The Lurids were distinctly aggravated, and their moans and howls took on a new strained pitch. Unperturbed by his ghostly
audience,