Free Fire Girl by Matt Ralphs Page A

relief, Hazel continued to turn the pages.
    ‘You and your mother lived alone in the forest?’ David asked.
    ‘Yes, just the two of us.’
    ‘A hard life to choose. It must have been lonely.’
    ‘No, not really. We had each other. And a few friends too,’ she added hurriedly, thinking of Mary and hoping she was safe.
    ‘Careful, Hazel.’ Bramley squirmed his way closer to her ear. ‘Remember
what
David is. Don’t give too much away.’
    ‘And what of your father?’
    David’s voice was light, but Hazel heard the curiosity in it. Bramley was right – she needed to be careful.
    ‘He’s dead,’ she said, surprised at how easily the lie came to her. ‘Killed in the war. I never knew him.’
    ‘The Witch War?’ David said, looking sidelong at her. ‘Interesting. Did he side with the King and his witches, or Lord Cromwell?’
    Hazel felt as if she was walking on a tightrope. One false move and she’d topple to her death. She decided to hedge her bets. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, as smoothly as
she could. ‘Ma never spoke about it. She always said the subject was far too painful.’
    David nodded and squinted up the dark road.
    She turned the next page and started in surprise. It was a picture of a demon,
the
demon,
her
demon, crook-backed and skinless. Caught in the light of the swinging lantern the
image seemed to swell, as if drawing breath. Gripping the book to stop her hands from shaking, she read on:
    Rawhead. Daemon-mediocritas. Blind, but with a keen nose for magic, making it ideal for hunting witches. It resides in the Slaughter Gardens of Dryhthelm, the dreaded
     demon Underworld, and always carries with it the stench of blood.
    If it can smell magic, does that mean it can smell me?
Hazel thought.
Perhaps the smell of the enchanted hedge hid my scent back there in the forest? Next time I might
not be so lucky.
    ‘I’ve found it,’ she said, passing the book to David.
    ‘Excellent. Take the reins, would you? Don’t worry, the horses will walk on.’ He frowned at the picture. ‘Are you sure this is the one? It’s a
daemon-mediocritas
–
which means it’s in the mid-ranks of the demon hierarchy. It would take a Wielder of enormous skill to summon it and keep it bound.’
    ‘I know what I saw,’ Hazel said, her voice shaking. ‘If we’re going to work together you need to trust me.’
    ‘All right, I believe you. It’s just unusual, that’s all.’ David scratched his chin. ‘You know, I’d prove myself to be a Witch Finder to be reckoned with if I
captured a
daemon-mediocritas
.’
    ‘I’m paying you to help find my mother, not improve your reputation.’
    ‘I know, I know,’ David said hurriedly. He took another look at the picture. ‘I’d better tell the boss about this. This demon is too much to handle on my own.’
    ‘Shall I wake him?’ asked Hazel.
    ‘Probably best to wait until he wakes up, er . . . naturally,’ David advised. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.’
    Hazel bristled. ‘I don’t need looking after. What I
do
need is to know how we’re going to find this horrible creature.’
    David tapped his nose. ‘We Witch Finders have our methods.’ He reached back inside the hatch and retrieved a polished wooden box. ‘Take a look in there,’ he said, handing
it to Hazel and taking back the reins.
    Hazel opened it. Nestling in the frayed, red velvet lining was a pair of silver goggles, with thick glass lenses and a leather strap. Each eyepiece had several adjustable focusing wheels and
brass levers etched with writing. Hazel lifted them up and was surprised by how heavy they were.
    ‘What are these for?’ she asked.
    ‘Hunting demons, of course,’ David said with a grin. ‘The boss designed them himself.’
    ‘How do they work?’ Hazel fiddled with one of the rotating wheels. It clicked solidly as she turned it.
    ‘Well, when a demon is summoned from Dryhthelm – that’s where demons come from – they begin to decay.’ He took