Free Julius and the Soulcatcher by Tim Hehir Page B

Harrison’s diary, Higgins.
    It was still at the bookshop, on the shelf behind the counter. He was just about to tell Mr Flynn, but he remembered: Harrison’s diary was his secret.
    The memory ran a cold finger down his spine. At the end of the Springheel case, Julius was about to confess to Mr Flynn that he had stolen the diary from his grandfather to give to Jack Springheel. That was when Julius thought that Mr Flynn was going to confess that he was really his father. But that did not happen. Julius’s face burned at the memory. Julius had misunderstood Mr Flynn’s kindness as that of a father. And in his disappointment Julius had kept the diary hidden under his jacket. He had held the two secrets ever since: the secret of the diary and his secret wish that Mr Flynn could be his father.
    ‘We should put it back,’ said Mr Flynn.
    ‘I could take it home,’ said Julius. ‘Practise with it.’
    ‘It has to go back.’
    Julius’s fingers clasped the pocketwatch.
    ‘No.’
    The word rang around the cathedral.
    ‘It has to stay in the drawer,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘The Watchmakers can’t risk losing it again. And you can’t jeopardise your apprenticeship.’
    Mr Flynn’s words were kind but firm. He handed Julius the key. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort this out ourselves.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Julius. He knew Mr Flynn was right.
    He took a candle and climbed the stairs behind the organ. He sat down and held the pocketwatch, not looking at it, just feeling its tick-tock whispering to his body. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. He counted the ticks, telling himself that on the twentieth tick he would put the pocketwatch back. He ran his fingertips along the wood grain and found the keyhole. The pocketwatch slid snuggly back in its place. All Julius was left with was his own heartbeat.
    He sat back and stared at it. The second-hand moved around the face. Tick-tock, tick-tock, ticktock. The sound was gentle and precise. He listened, not able to imagine being parted from it.
    He felt something shift inside him. He knew what he was going to do.
    He took the watch and slipped it into his pocket.He closed the empty drawer and locked it. His hand gripped the watch as he walked down the stairs and across the tiles and handed the golden key to Mr Flynn.
    ‘All done,’ said Julius.
    ‘Good lad,’ said Mr Flynn. He held up the jar. The soulcatcher’s pale tendrils pressed against the glass searching for a way out. ‘We’ll start on this business tomorrow. Too late for anything tonight.’
    Julius looked Mr Flynn in the eye so there would be no suspicion that he had done anything wrong.
    ‘And Emily’s available,’ he said.
    ‘What?’ said Mr Flynn.
    ‘I mean, she said she’d be willing to help, if anything came up.’
    ‘Hmm, did she now?’ said Mr Flynn. ‘I’ll think about it.’

CHAPTER 9

    Saturday 20th January 1838
    3:48 AM
    Julius slid his key into the door at Higgins’ Bookshop.
    ‘Good night,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘I’ll speak to Abberline tomorrow, see if he’ll introduce me to Mr Darwin. We’ll ask about that painting of his.’
    Julius opened the door a crack and slipped in without ringing the shop bell. The clock ticked on the mantel. He crept to the counter and rifled through a drawer until he found a candle stub. He lit it and reached for Harrison’s diary on the shelves behind him. He had returned the diary to his grandfather at the end of the Springheel case with an apology and a story about having shown it to an eager potential customer.
    As Julius turned to put the diary on the counter he saw two pale-blue eyes staring at him from the far corner of the bookshop. He jumped and the book fell to the floor.
    ‘Good evening,’ said Tock.
    The little man emerged from the dark corner. As he drew closer to the candle flame Julius saw a cruel smile spread across his face. His eyes bore into Julius, making him step back into the bookshelf. He was trapped. Tock approached with exaggerated care, as if Julius was