Read The Hand of the Devil for Free Online

with a mosquito in its centre and unusual symbols dotted around it. Above it was the title, printed in an antique script, and below that the author’s name in an equally elaborate font.
    Leafing through the curious book, I saw that it wasn’t only the cover that used such a unique typeface. The entire text was lovingly arranged and printed, the accompanying engravings also reproduced in great depth and detail. As I looked from one illustration to the other, I saw a pattern emerging. Each one featured a mosquito, quite large in size, attacking one or more screaming people. The first few pictures showed Roman centurions fleeing the beast as if for their lives. On the following pages were depictions of early Saxon Britons, medieval Europeans, then various cultures and countries up until very recent times. The same monster seemed to have been causing all sorts of problems throughout history. I scanned a few portions of the text. It was a collection of tales about a fabled creature known as the Devil’s Hand – a formidable foe judging by the damage it could cause. I prayed that the demon creature depicted in the book was in no way related to the Ganges Red. I had nearly finished leafing through the book when I became aware of a presence nearby.
    ‘Quite a collection,’ I said nervously, turning to see Mather standing behind me in the doorway.
    ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘ Many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore , as the poem goes.’ He walked over and looked at the book in my hands. ‘I was quite an avid collector once upon a time. I used to spend hours scouring second-hand bookshops. It was an absolute joy to find that one.’ I handed him the book. He ran his hands over the cover. ‘Have you heard of the legend of Nhan Diep?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘Ah, it’s a marvellous story in here from old Vietnam.’
    ‘Oh? My grandmother was Vietnamese.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes. She met my grandfather when he went over to fight in the war in ’sixty-six. He was an American pilot.’
    ‘Oh. Well, perhaps she knows the story. It’s quite a popular—’
    ‘I’m afraid she passed away a few years ago.’
    ‘Oh, I’m very sorry.’ There was an uncomfortable pause.
    ‘So . . . would it be possible to see the Ganges Red? I’m anxious to get a good look at it. I wish I’d done a little more research before coming. I don’t know anything about it, I have to confess.’
    ‘Ah,’ Mather said, softly clapping his hands together. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t a good idea to disturb her at this hour. I fed her not long ago; she’s always a little irritable after feeding time. Best if we tackle that tomorrow.’
    ‘What is it about the mosquito that led you to contact me?’
    ‘Oh, so many things. The Ganges Red is the only example of her kind.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Oh yes. And her size will quite stun you. She is too large even to be considered a freak of nature. No . . .’ Mather gazed up in what almost looked like reverence. ‘She is something else entirely. Many cultures have worshipped the Ganges Red. Accounts of this can be found in Her Story .’
    ‘Oh, right. As well as the legend of, er . . .’
    ‘Nhan Diep,’ he said, pronouncing the words slowly to make sure I got them this time.
    ‘Right, yes.’
    ‘You can borrow the book for tonight if you like. A little reading always helps me sleep. And it will set your imagination alight in anticipation of tomorrow’s introduction,’ he said, nodding his assurance.
    ‘Yes, I’d be happy to take a look. I don’t reckon I’ll have too much trouble falling asleep tonight though.’
    ‘Quite.’ He handed me the book.
    I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have a scan through it in case it could be used in the article. I couldn’t think of anything more to say. My unease must have been noticeable, as Mather said, ‘I do apologize for any inconvenience, Mr Reeves, and will endeavour to extend every accommodation to ensure you feel