I heard a scuffle of feet. A wised-up little voice said, "Ten."
"You got it," I said.
"Push it under the door," the voice said.
"Let me hear you slide the bolt."
"First the money."
I pushed a bill under the door. The bolt moved out of its clip, and the door rattled a foot sideways. I slipped inside. At my back, the door closed on utter blackness. Not to me, Nolly whispered, "Get away." Small, bare feet retreated over the earthen floor. My eyes began to adjust, and I saw dim outlines arranging themselves against the wall, like birds settling in for the night.
Nolly's vague figure moved toward the side of the warehouse. "Keep your voice down."
"You remember me."
"Aye," Nolly said.
"Two men were following us."
"People say you took care of one of them." His voice sounded like air leaking from a punctured tire.
"Somebody did," I said. Nolly made a hissing sound that I realized was a chuckle. “I think another person was there, too. Someone who saw us but was never seen. Someone you know. A man who pays you to do favors for him."
"We does favors," Nolly said. “It don'tmean nothing."
“I met him today. He said his name was Earl Sawyer." Whispers came from the rear of the old warehouse. “I think he sometimes wears a black coat and hat."
Nolly's shadowy form went rigid.
A voice from the back of the warehouse said,Black Death.
Nolly hissed, "Shut yer traps!"
"You call him Black Death?" I whispered.
A small voice said,Into the Knacker with 'im, Nolly, into the Knacker.
He leaned toward me. "You're not supposed to have heard of him, someone like you, and besides, you're mixed up in the head. You're putting together two different fellows who aren't the same."
"The Knacker?" I asked Nolly.
"Where they go when they go permanent," Nolly whispered. "Not only horses, neither."
He backed away, and I grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled him deeper into the corner. Nolly submitted with a glum, heartbreaking passivity. I knelt down and put another five-dollar bill in his hand. “I know you're scared. I am, too. This is important to me."
"Life-or-death important?"
"Life-or-death important."
So softly that I could barely hear him, Nolly whispered, "There's a name you can't say, because he can hear through walls. Those that see him when he doesn't want to be seen are taught to be sorry. That is B.D. You know what I mean by that name?"
"Yes," I whispered back.
"He lives at night, and he has always been here. B.D. is not a true human being. Most of those back there, they see him as a vampire. I say, he's not a vampire but a demon from hell."
"He's always been here?"
"He was made whenHatchtown was made. B.D.is Hatchtown, as I think. That's why things are this way."
"Which way?" I asked.
Nolly made a contemptuous noise. "Water's bad, sewers don't work. Every time the river floods, we're underwater and covered in mud. This is Hatchtown. B.D., he's likeus, except he's a demon. If there is a Mr. Hatch, I reckon he made B.D. but I wish he hadn't."
I leaned back against the wall and put my hands over my face.
Nolly bent closer. "Earl Sawyer will be another five dollars." I gave him the bill.
"Mr. Sawyer is a sour old creature," Nolly said. "He'd sooner kick you than say a kind word, which he never does."
"Where does he live?"
“I usually see him in the vicinity of Leather Lane. But when he goes to ground, he goes to ground like a fox."
"All right," I said, and stood up. Nolly urged me toward the door and slid it open. I stepped into the lane, and, to my surprise, he slipped outside behind me. What I could see of his face looked like a catcher's mitt. He glanced from side to side and whispered something so quietly I merely saw his lips move.
I bent down, and he put his mouth close to my ear. "From what I heard, it was you seen two nights ago in Fish Lane with Joe Staggers from the town of Mountry."
“It might have been," I whispered, realizing that these kids heard everything.
"Joe Staggers has not been seen again. Which has caused no tears to fall. Not in Hatchtown. Nor in Mountry, either, I figure,"
"The gentleman was called away," I said.
“It must have been a powerful call."
What was Nolly doing, what was he looking for? "Too powerful for him, anyhow."
"A gun was fired, but no one was hit," Nolly said. "That's not your way, is it?"
"Nolly," I whispered, "do you want to tell me something?"
He hitched up one shoulder and tugged at the waistband of his trousers. He shifted his feet and jerked his head back and forth. In an imitation of Frenchy La Chapelle even better than the lookout's, he pulled at his sleeves and squinted as if trying to see around the curve in the lane. Frenchy had been one of these children, I realized, he had spent his nights in the old lavender warehouse and performed occasional services for B.D., the Hatchtown vampire. I thought Frenchy had continued to perform these services for the remainder of his wretched life.
Nolly was still trying to peer around the corner. "Do you know Horsehair?"
I shook my head.
"Horsehair issmall, and it isdark. Horsehair windsback andforth. In Horsehair, you can get to where you are going without no one knowing you are already gone. The general public never sees it, on account of its being the kind of thing it is." Nolly again tilted his mouth to my ear."He uses Horsehair. So if you wanted to find him, which I never did, you could maybe find him there."
"Where is it?"
"Everywhere," Nolly whispered. "For one example, rightthere." He pointed a grubby hand at a barely visible gap between two buildings and vanished back into the warehouse.
•109
•I stepped inside the space Nolly had shown me. Ahead, a dark, narrow artery stretched out for twenty feet or more before curving leftward. I felt as though Nolly Wheadle had shown me the secret within the secret, the key to Hatchtown's true interior. Horsehair brought me to Raspberry, then into desolate little Barrel Lane, and from there on a winding trail leading, I hoped, in the direction of Veal Yard. Sounds from other lanes reverberated off the narrow walls. A stench like that of Joy's house came to me, then sank back into the bricks. From somewhere near, I heard a man humming "Chattanooga Choo-Choo" and thought it was Piney Woods, staggering down Leather Lane. When at last I emerged into Veal Yard, I saw Horsehair opening like a paper cut beyond the dry fountain and knew how Edward Rinehart had witnessed Robert's first appearance before me.
6
HOW I SPENT MY BIRTHDAY
•110
•The next morning I wished myself a happy thirty-fifth birthday and hoped I would live to see thirty-six. When it came to birthday presents, you couldn't beat survival. After I dressed for Toby's funeral in a clean white shirt, gray trousers, a rep tie, and my blazer, I picked up the telephone and got the number for the Fortress Military Academy in Owlsburg, Pennsylvania. Who was W. Wilson Fletcher, I wondered, and how did Rinehart get his book? If Fletcher had made it through World War II, he was probably still alive, and he might remember giving the book to a fellow student.