The Eyeball Collector by F E Higgins Page A

head, fangs and yellow eyes) that lay between the two couches.
    He sat carefully on the edge of the stool, acutely aware of the state of his clothes. He was also aware of how ravenously hungry he was and couldn’t help but stare longingly at the dainty aromatic treats that teased his nose. They smelled of marzipan and dark chocolate and were decorated with bright red cherries and raisins and iced in swirls.
    ‘Do you know who I am?’
    ‘You are Lady Mandible,’ said Hector slowly, ‘and this is Withypitts Hall.’
    ‘And what is your name?’
    ‘Hector. The Baron sent a carriage for me.’
    ‘Ah, the butterfly boy,’ rejoined Lady Mandible. ‘I thought as much. You are very welcome.’ She looked at him closely. ‘Are you hungry?’
    Hector had always been told it was not polite to openly admit to hunger, but after his sojourn in Fitch’s Home his manners were not as they once were. Hardly able to take his eyes off the platter, he nodded vigorously.
    ‘Then take one.’
    She pointed to the sweets and he noticed for the first time that her painted nails were neither rounded nor squared off, but sharpened almost to talons. She wore a large ring on every finger, each with a gleaming oversized dark stone.
    ‘Take as many as you like. I have them brought in specially. No one around here has the skills to make such delicate treats.’ She laughed, rather cruelly. ‘And very few people deserve them.’
    Hector needed no more encouragement. He dropped a sweet into his mouth and was caught by surprise at the intensity of the taste, the sensation of the chocolate slowly melting, its sweetness running down the back of his throat. Before he could help himself he had eaten another and taken two more. He was ready to cram them in as well but a sudden shiver ran down his spine and he managed to stop himself. Lady Mandible’s unblinking eyes were fixed upon him, her head slightly cocked, and she was opening and closing her fan.
    Gerulphus approached noiselessly, as seemed to be his way. He was like a creature that had once been alive, Hector thought, then had died and been brought back from the grave. He filled for Hector a glass from the jug of sweet ginger beer. Then he lifted and tipped the silver pot. A stream of dark liquid ran from its spout into the patterned cup. Hector looked at the manservant’s bony wrists protruding from his cuffs and could see pulsing blue veins running up the back of his hands. The bittersweet aroma of the liquid was very familiar to Hector. One of the most expensive coffees you could buy, his father used to serve it when entertaining important wine merchants. This, mingled with the taste and smell of the treats, the ginger beer and the heady perfume that wafted from his hostess, combined to make him feel a little light-headed.
    Lady Mandible looked at him quizzically and reached across to take a marzipan delicacy for herself at the same time as Hector. Her fingers brushed over his hand and he flinched. Her nails were sharp as blades and her skin abnormally cool.
    ‘I believe you brought something for me too,’ she said.
    Gerulphus handed her Perigoe’s parcel and a knife and she cut the string with a slashing motion then placed the package on the table and flattened down the oilskin to reveal a pile of books. She lifted the top one, a large brown-covered volume, and it fell open to show a full-page colour plate of a butterfly. Hector’s heart ached at the sight of the beautiful creature. It was a painful reminder of his previous life but also of his purpose. If he really wanted revenge on the Baron, he had to win this job.
    ‘ Argynnis paphia ,’ he said quickly. ‘A Silver-Washed Fritillary.’
    ‘So, the Baron was right,’ remarked Lady Mandible. ‘But what a puzzle you are. A knowledge of Latin and butterflies, and yet by all appearances you are an urchin.’
    ‘My father bred and collected them,’ explained Hector under her cool gaze.
    ‘Where are your parents?’
    ‘Dead.