Free Floods 7 by Colin Thompson Page A

exactly the same as Queen Scratchrot’s armpits.
He was very cheap to look after – after all, he had survived for two centuries on three tins of Pedigree Chum, seventeen spiders, lots of rats’ legs and a brussels sprout.
He knew of lot of really rude jokes.

There is, hidden away in a remote valley 25 in Transylvania Waters, a special clinic. Only 0.5 per cent of the population know this valley exists. It isn’t on any maps, on account of none of Transylvania Waters being on any maps, but even if there was a map of Transylvania Waters, this valley would NOT be on it because it’s a secret. Of the 0.5 percent who know it exists, only thirty-seven of them know there is a clinic there and only half of those thirty-seven know what the clinic is for – and seven of the ones who know what it’s for work there. 26
    To summarise, this clinic is more remote, more exclusive and more secretive than anywhere else on Earth, even that place in the Nevada desert where the American government keeps some dead aliens from outer space.
    One of the thirty-seven people who knew about the clinic was the Hearse Whisperer.
    And she has just gone there.
    This is the Sulfuric Clinic, a special hospital for the treatment of depression and insanity in witches and wizards. Its director and owner is the fearsome Dr Reversion.
    Dr Reversion was a powerful woman. She had more muscles than most men, even serious body builders, and other muscles that most men would never want if, that is, they even knew suchmuscles existed. Tall, with damp black shiny hair, Dr Reversion wore a lot of damp black shiny leather that cried in pain as she moved, because some of the leather belonged to animals that were still alive. Notebook and pen in one hand, damp black shiny whip in the other, Dr Reversion was the perfect psychiatrist for a depressed wizard. For depressed witches, maybe not so perfect, but as she was actually a witch herself and the only psychiatrist specialising in the treatment of screwed-up wizards and witches, she was as perfect as they were going to get.
    â€˜I cannot believe it,’ she said. ‘The legendary Hearse Whisperer here in my clinic.’
    The Hearse Whisperer had left a webcam on the volcano rim on Tristan da Cunha, a webcam that sent its pictures right into her brain so she would know the instant the Floods arrived – if they arrived. Then she had transformed and flown back to Transylvania Waters.
    To get into the clinic as a patient and not as dinner – albatross stew was one of Dr Reversion’s favourite meals – she had had to transform herselfagain, but she felt her miserable state of mind was worth it. It had snowed a lot more on Tristan since she had left, and now the camera was buried in a deep drift. All the Hearse Whisperer could see inside her head was pure white, the colour she hated more than any other colour in the whole world. This, of course, was making her even more depressed.

    â€˜When I was a child,’ said Dr Reversion, ‘I had your picture on my bedroom wall. Well, I say your picture, but as you know, there are no pictures of you, so I had a huge sheet of black paper taped up right above my head.’
    â€˜How black was it?’ said the Hearse Whisperer, fearing grey.
    â€˜Well, what is the blackest thing you can think of?’
    â€˜Is this part of the treatment?’
    â€˜Of course. Everything is part of the treatment at the Sulfuric Clinic,’ said Dr Reversion. ‘So, what is the blackest thing you can think of?’
    â€˜The centre of my grandmother’s heart when she was sitting in a locked cupboard in the deepest part of the Transylvania Waters coal mine, right at the bottom of shaft thirteen, where it is so dark that the light from a torch is absorbed before it even leaves the bulb,’ said the Hearse Whisperer. ‘At three a.m. on a completely moonless night.’
    â€˜That is good.’
    â€˜And I have my eyes