Free The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors by F E Higgins

was leaking out from underneath the loosened lid, causing the
air around Vincent to cool noticeably. He shuddered. What possible harm could a cold metal cylinder cause?
    He was about to find out.
    In one coordinated move Kamptulicon removed the lid fully, grabbed Vincent by the right wrist and shoved his hand into the cylinder. For a split second Vincent felt nothing, and then an acute
burning pain.
    He screamed.
    After a few agonizing moments Kamptulicon pulled the cylinder away and replaced the lid. But the pain didn’t subside, it worsened.
    ‘What . . . in . . . Aether . . . was . . . that?’ Vincent managed to ask in between gasps. The pain was still intensifying, but Kamptulicon had moved on. He put down the cylinder
and pulled a pendant on a long chain from around his neck and held it aloft. The putrefying man, who until now had stood motionless, stirred. Kamptulicon cried out,
    ‘
Assumate puer!
’
    Vincent now understood the literal meaning of the word ‘petrified’. He was for all intents and purposes turned to stone, such was the fear that gripped him. The monstrous man
advanced towards him. He was appalling to behold, with his ravaged skin and his masticating mouth and his dull eyes. He looked as if he had succumbed to some terrible wasting disease. Closer and
closer he came, and Vincent felt as if his heart was being squeezed to a pulp by a great fist of terror inside his ribs.
    The stinking monster leaned forward, and its breath was so cold it burned. Vincent recoiled as far as he could, pressing against the hard upright back of the chair. He tried to turn his head
away from the monster, but the strap around his neck started to choke him. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. And then the dreadful face swooped down to fix its foul lips over
Vincent’s in a repulsive kiss.
    Somehow Vincent knew that it was a kiss of death. The monster’s eyes held no pity, just pure evil. He shivered violently. He wanted to close his eyes, to block out the sight, but he was
unable. The stench was overwhelming. His stomach was heaving.
    I am to die, he thought, alone here in this vile underground chamber, like a rat in a trap, at the hands of two madmen . . .’
    At that instant there was a tremendous boom and the room lit up with a dazzling light. Something hard, pellets of some sort, showered down on him, like a thousand pins pricking at his exposed
skin. He heard slashing noises and his hands were free, then his feet and head. Someone was trying to drag him from the chair, but he resisted, afraid that it was the monster, until he heard a
voice in his ear:
    ‘Run, run! We’ve got to go!’
    A third person, cloaked darkly, was now in the chamber. Vincent stopped struggling and got to his feet. In a second or two he glanced around and saw Kamptulicon lying spreadeagled on the floor.
And beside him the monster was kneeling and raking his hands across the flagstones, frenziedly gathering up the black pellets that lay scattered.
    ‘Hurry!’ insisted an urgent voice from within the darkness of the hood. Vincent, dazed and confused, just managed to scoop up his treen pouch before allowing himself to be led away
past Kamptulicon’s inert body and along the tunnel, up the stairs and finally outside into the cool night air.

C HAPTER 12
     
B ETRAYED!
    When Citrine opened her eyes, she was immediately aware of two things. One, she was in a very dark place and, two, she was lying on her back on a hard bed that was most
certainly not hers. Her head was pounding and she was finding it difficult to gather her thoughts.
    She sat up and leaned against the nearest wall. Its cold dampness penetrated her clothes.
    Where in Aether’s name am I? she wondered, for this was no room in the Capodel Townhouse. ‘And what
is
that smell?’ It was a mixture of musty fungus and other nasty
aromas she preferred not to identify. A drop of water splashed on to her hand. She looked up. Above her head there was a