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both wisened to the folly of such pursuits a century ago?’
    ‘This theatre crone has quite the reputation as a seer, Captain. The new method she uses – this spirit board – it is apparently very effective. Should she prove more thanjust another charlatan, I should very much like to bring her back with us. I should like her to commune with the Angel. If we can speak with it, learn more accurately what it needs, this irritating dependence on extravaganzas and the intrusion of strangers into our peaceful home may yet prove unnecessary.’
    Vincent shook his head, parted the curtains, and looked, once again, into the street. ‘There is only one proven way to sustain the creature. You know this. There is no speaking to it.’
    ‘The first soothsayer spoke to it.’
    ‘Really? You recall this as fact? Over two hundred years have come and gone since then, Cornelius. I can barely recall the events of eighty years past, let alone two centuries. Let us not fall back on half-forgotten superstitions, shall we? Let us stick to that which we ourselves have proven to work.’
    Too much talking and Vincent’s lungs rebelled. It was just a gentle cough, but, without thinking, he found himself checking his palm for blood. It was a gesture from another lifetime, risen to the surface now with the threatened onset of his disease. He instantly regretted it. Cornelius’ concern was palpable from across the room.
    ‘We will fix this, Captain.’
    Vincent nodded and dropped the curtain back into place. ‘We will … and in the only way we know how. You meet with your soothsayers and entrail-readers tomorrow, cully, if you so desire. I wish you joy of the encounter. But do not neglect the real reason for our journey here. It is our one assured hope, and I will not have you derail it based on the ravings of a centuries-dead bedlamite who presumed to speak withangels and claimed a demon slept in the lake.’ He pulled on his overcoat, heading for the door.
    ‘You … you are leaving?’
    ‘I cannot sit in this hotel room all night, Cornelius. I have business I must attend to.’
    Cornelius leapt to his feet. ‘But … it is cold out there. Your health! Surely there is nothing so important that …’
    Vincent went very still, and Cornelius came to a halt. After a long, silent moment, Vincent placed his hat upon his head and opened the door. ‘I wish to get Raquel some fabric,’ he said. ‘Something pretty, for a dress. Something bright. The draper will not see a man such as me on his premises before dark.’
    ‘But I would have done this for you! You should not have to suffer the scorn of such fools!’
    Vincent laughed softly. ‘The chittering of insects and grunt of pigs is no insult to a man who knows his worth, cully.’ He glanced sideways at his friend. ‘It will be like old times, to explore a strange port. You will not join me? Stretch your legs?’
    At Cornelius’ hesitation, Vincent sighed again. ‘No. Of course not. Very well, then. Stay here. I shall see you later.’
    Cornelius went to speak, but Vincent closed the door on whatever objection he might have expressed, and made his way through the silence of carpeted hallways and out into the sharp winter night.

A Night’s Wage Lost

    A S JOE LED the way down through the darkness of Tina’s house, Harry surprised him by starting a conversation. ‘I liked how you read that story,’ he said.
    Joe waited for the sly dig. None came, and Joe had to admit it didn’t sound like Harry was taking the piss. He took a chance on saying, ‘Thanks.’ Then, without really knowing why, he added, ‘I like reading for the ladies.’
    â€˜They can’t read, huh?’
    â€˜Not a word, but they’d add and subtract the eyes out of your head.’
    He heard Harry chuckle. ‘I’d say they would,’ he said. ‘There was a lot more science in that book than I’d thought women would appreciate, though – do you think they