Chapter Two

A picture was beginning to form in Athos' head of the mystery being. The being that was preying on the poor. They worked out that whoever was attacking the people was clever to include those that had nothing. They were the ones that were spreading the rumours and making the people that did have something to lose, scared.

They had spoken to a few of the victims. Once word got out that the Musketeers were asking about the mystery being a few people found them. Athos knew he would not get the image of the woman with two children that had spoken to them out of his mind. The small boy that was clutching on to his mother's skirts had seen the mystery being. He had only spoken a few words since and appeared to have not slept at all.

The same descriptions were given over and over again. Athos became convinced something was going on, but he could not believe it was something supernatural.

'Monsieur Porthos,' said a man as he stepped from the shadows underneath a rickety set of stairs.

Both Musketeers stopped and looked at the man expectantly. The man was grubby, as most of the inhabitants were. Smudges of dirt covered his face. A tatty bandage was wrapped around his hand and wrist and his shoes were tied together with rags.

'I remember you,' said the man as he took a step closer to them.

Athos guessed the man was a few years older than Porthos, although judging ages in the court was not easy. The hard life meant its inhabitants aged more quickly than elsewhere. The man had bruising around his neck which he had tried to cover with another rag. Athos wondered why he would try to hide the bruising. If he had been attacked he was not alone. Some of the other victims had spoken of being choked or strangled by the mystery figure.

'You remember me?' asked Porthos. 'From when?'

'When you lived here before you went off and joined the army. Before you abandoned us.'

The man shook his head.

'You were lucky,' he continued. 'Most of us aren't.'

Porthos and the man regarded each other for a few seconds before the man spoke again.

'I don't begrudge you. None of us owes anyone else anything. Perhaps I'm jealous.'

Athos glanced at Porthos who was still looking at the man, perhaps he was trying to work out if he remembered the man.

'Were you attacked?' asked Porthos after a few moments.

The man nodded, 'a couple of days ago now,' he said. 'I was taken by surprise. It's not easy to take people by surprise in here.'

Porthos nodded, 'it doesn't pay to let your guard down. Can you describe this figure that attacked you?'

The man continued, 'It appeared as if out of nowhere. I swear it didn't walk… more floated. I know it can't be real. But it was. And other people have said it had a million eyes…'

The man paused and stared into the distance for a few seconds.

'But they weren't eyes… They were lights that seemed to blink on and off… like the stars.'

The man pointed upwards, towards the cloudy sky. The man looked at Porthos who did not say anything for a couple of seconds. Athos stole a glance at his friend and was surprised to see a spark of recognition in his face. The man they were talking to had seen it as well.

'You know what I'm talking about. You've seen it. It's not just in the Court anymore. It's got out… hasn't it?'

Porthos was quick to respond, although Athos detected lies behind his words.

'I ain't seen it. Your description matches others we've had though. People remember things differently. But, overall, they all match.'

Porthos nodded and reached out to rest his hand on the man's arm.

'You've been helpful, monsieur.'

The man looked at Porthos and smiled.

'I'm glad I could help,' he said. 'It scared me, but somehow it seemed unreal. I thought I was imagining it.'

'Did this… being,' said Athos. 'Try to strangle you?'

He indicated the rag around the man's throat. Self consciously the man adjusted the cloth to cover the bruises. The man's answer was almost hesitant for a second. Something about the way the man responded caused Athos to doubt him.

'Yes. I think it's tried to strangle a few people… those of us with nothing are the ones it scares.'

Athos flicked his gaze towards Porthos again, noting his friend's minute reaction. He knew it was not the time or place to question him. But the man had again noticed Porthos' reaction.

'If you haven't seen it,' said the man to Porthos. 'You've known about it. He's not scared,' the man gestured towards Athos, 'but you. You're scared. You, a Musketeer, a grown man. You are scared.'

'I'm concerned,' said Porthos with a scowl. 'I am doing my job. I want this being dealt with.'

The man tilted his head, 'you lie,' he said.

Athos stepped forward, 'do you have anything else you can tell us?'

The man looked at him, 'I don't think so,' he said. 'The being tripped me to the ground and pulled what few coins I had from my pockets. I tried to shout and it strangled me until I passed out.'

'You have been most helpful, monsieur,' said Athos.

The man nodded to Athos before looking at Porthos sceptically for a few seconds and turning away from them. Athos watched the man go only looking away when Porthos turned and walked in the opposite direction. Athos followed him, knowing there was more to the stilted conversation than Porthos had been prepared to say when the man had been there.

Porthos was walking with determination, away from the Court. Athos caught him up and fell into step. He glanced at his friend who was staring ahead, his expression unreadable. Athos decided he would wait to ask the inevitable questions. Porthos was not in the mood to discuss what had happened. Athos wondered if his friends rattled behaviour was due to returning to the place he had grown up in. Porthos had moved on from that life, he was a different person now.

They made their way towards the nearest tavern that served good food and wine. They expected to meet Aramis and d'Artagnan who had been questioning the locals in the surrounding area. Athos expected them to have heard similar stories.

MMMM

They were only a few hundred yards from the tavern when they saw both d'Artagnan and Aramis rush out and towards them. They were following a young man who had turned off along a side street. D'Artagnan paused and beckoned them on with a hurried gesture before charging after Aramis. Athos and Porthos broke into a run and followed their brothers. Whatever had happened required their attention urgently.

Ahead of them, they could see a couple of people huddled around a man who was sitting on the ground. As they got closer Athos could see a trickle of blood on the man's face. The man wore the tough apron of a blacksmith. His shirt sleeves were rolled up revealing an assortment of burns, typical for a man of his profession. The man looked capable, whoever had attacked him must have taken him by surprise.

'It went that way,' said one of the men who were with the victim, 'I saw it disappear down the alley.'

'Show me,' said d'Artagnan.

As D'Artagnan rushed after the man, Aramis skidded to a halt by the injured blacksmith. Athos glanced at Porthos who was stopping to help Aramis. Deciding the victim was in good hands Athos followed where d'Artagnan had been led. He reached the turning for the narrow alleyway but could not make out his friend or the man that had shown him the way. For several seconds he waited before seeing the two men silhouetted in the dim light as they walked back towards him.

D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders as they got closer.

'They must be long gone,' he said.

'Sorry,' said the man, who Athos guessed was of a similar age to d'Artagnan. 'I should have followed it… but I was… afraid to go on my own.'

D'Artagnan squeezed the man's shoulder, 'you're unarmed. It would have been foolhardy.'

The man nodded, 'I think we stopped it from hurting Monsieur Baudin. It moved quickly… we saw the claw.'

The man glanced back towards the alleyway and shuddered, before falling into step with them as they returned to Monsieur Baudin. The blacksmith had managed to get to his feet but looked as though he would not be returning to his forge for the rest of the day.

An older woman was standing close by, a worried look on her face, she had a shawl pulled tight around her shoulders.

'I saw it,' she was saying to Porthos. 'I saw it with my own eyes. I never thought I'd see it again.'

'Again?' said Aramis who was still keeping a steadying hand on the blacksmith's elbow.

'This ain't the first time it's stalked these streets,' said the old woman. 'Years ago… about thirty years ago I'd say, give or take. I think most folks have moved on that were here then. Or they're choosing to forget it.'

Athos glanced at Porthos who had taken a small step back and schooled his expression to show no emotion. His friend was being careful not to look at any of them.

'What happened, monsieur?' asked Aramis, who was still looking at Monsieur Baudin with a critical eye.

'I'd stepped out of the shop for a few minutes,' said the blacksmith with a glance back a few yards at the dark doorway of his workplace. 'I was looking up at the sky, deciding if it would rain or not. Nothing I don't do every day.'

The blacksmith paused and shook his head. He looked at his hands. Athos noticed they were shaking.

'It grabbed me and tripped me to the ground. I must have hit my head. Then I heard Madam Favre scream. It was leaning over me… its claws were out… I thought it was going to kill me.'

Madam Favre stepped forward, 'I saw it. I screamed. I thought my heart would stop there and then,' she said, slightly over dramatically. 'It looked up. Its eyes all focused on me. Then it swooped off. I saw it disappear along there.'

She pointed towards an alleyway on the opposite side of the road to the one the young man had taken d'Artagnan. Athos looked at the man who was standing nearby.

'We saw it reappear on the other side of the road,' said the young man.

Athos looked at Madam Favre who was nodding, her eyes wide with shock.

'Horrible Devil creature,' she said. 'In two places at once. Evil.'

D'Artagnan looked at the young man, 'why don't you see that Madam Favre gets home?'

The young man nodded and stepped forward taking the old woman's arm. They watched the pair walk back along the road a little before turning off. At the same time, Aramis was walking with the blacksmith towards his shop.

'I'll catch you up in the tavern,' he said over his shoulder as he walked.

Athos looked around for a few seconds, noting that Porthos was still not reacting to what had happened. D'Artagnan was scanning the area.

'I don't think we're going to learn anything new,' he said. 'The man was attacked from behind. The witnesses saw the same thing that everyone else did.'

Athos agreed with d'Artagnan's assessment, 'how did you hear about the attack?'

D'Artagnan gestured for the other young man to come forward. The man was still panting from the run from the tavern. He wore reasonable clothes. A thin ragged scarf around his neck his only apparent indulgence.

'I heard the screaming,' said the man. 'I'd seen you and the other soldier go into the tavern. I thought you'd be able to help. Did I do the right thing?'

'Yes,' said d'Artagnan, 'you did. And if you see or hear anything else about this… Devil Man, you should come and find us at the garrison.'

'I will. Are you going to catch it?' asked the man.

'We're going to try,' replied d'Artagnan.

MMMM

A few minutes later they were all huddled around a table, in the tavern where Aramis and d'Artagnan had been interrupted by the news of the latest attack.

Aramis nodded, agreeing with d'Artagnan's description of the toothless old man they had talked to earlier in the day.

'Honestly, he had no fat on him. He was just bones,' said d'Artagnan with a sigh. 'But he gave the same description. He must have seen a lot during his lifetime but this thing scared him-'

'I don't think he would be the sort to scare easily,' interjected Aramis.

'No,' continued d'Artagnan, 'he said that the thing shone and sparkled. He said it was like eyes blinking in the light… like cats eyes in the torch light.'

Aramis nodded with a slight smile, 'like the freakish black cat that jumped on you, Athos. That made us all jump.'

'Even you,' chuckled d'Artagnan.

'Even me,' said Aramis.

'This man,' said d'Artagnan, 'he referred to the thing, the man, whatever it is, as the Devilman or something like that.'

Athos leaned forward, 'that was the name the people we spoke to gave it as well. Or names along those lines.'

They paused as the serving woman lay a tray on their table. Aramis helped her to move the bowls of stew off the tray earning himself a coquettish smile. The woman was called away by another table in the busy tavern before she could strike up a conversation. Aramis pushed the bowls towards his friend noting that Porthos did not react to the enticing aromas of the stew. His friend had been unusually quiet since arriving. Athos had done all the talking for the pair as they pooled what they had learned.

The four Musketeers took a few minutes to eat their stew and drink some of the wine. A scraggly dog wandered up to the table looking for scraps. Porthos absentmindedly threw the dog a lump of meat which was wolfed down in seconds. The dog settled next to Porthos who scratched its head in between eating his food. Aramis did not like seeing his friend so distracted. He noticed that Athos was watching him as well.

As d'Artagnan finished his food he continued to relate what they had heard during their time in the streets surrounding the Court of Miracles before their more recent encounter with the attacker.

'There was a man, he was in his forties I'd say…'

Aramis nodded his agreement.

'He was a cripple, sitting on some steps. He said he'd seen the thing, he called it a Hell creature I think. He said…' d'Artagnan paused and shook his head in disbelief of what he was about to say. 'He said that it disappeared and reappeared. He saw it coming along the street with its glowing eyes and menace before it disappeared… Only to reappear from the other side of the street. He said there was no way it could have got to the other side of the street without him seeing. Not in the time-'

Athos, who had been about to take a sip of wine, was staring at d'Artagnan. Porthos was staring straight ahead, Aramis could not work out what his friend was thinking.

'- I know,' said d'Artagnan, 'it's ridiculous.'

Athos said, 'we heard similar stories. And just now, the same descriptions. There are many common threads. Differing descriptions but on the whole, I believe we are looking at one attacker. Did any of the people you spoke to say they were strangled?'

Aramis nodded, 'the ones that were not robbed were not touched, only scared, they were threatened with the beast's claws. But the ones that had items stolen from them - usually the tradesmen, or those with a little wealth - they were throttled or injured with the claw. One was rendered unconscious, although he was a fit man who fought back, he managed to get a couple of punches in.'

Athos looked across the table at Porthos, 'why did you lie earlier?'

Porthos finally made eye contact with Athos.

'I didn't lie,' he said defensively.

'You're lying now,' said Aramis, 'I've known you for years, Porthos, I know when you have something on your mind. You've been preoccupied ever since Treville told us about these attacks.'

Porthos looked away for a few seconds; he stroked the scraggly dog and sighed. They waited patiently for him to respond.

'I remember the same attacks from when I was a child,' he finally said.

Athos raised his eyebrows, 'why not tell us before?' he asked.

Porthos looked away again.

'Because I didn't think you'd believe me,' he said. 'Because I didn't believe it myself. I was five. There are periods of my life back then that I can't remember. Some things I can't remember at all and some I can only remember bits and pieces of. I always thought I imagined it. The rumours, the fear that I lived in…'

Aramis reached up and squeezed his friend's shoulder, 'why wouldn't we believe you?'

'Because it can't be the same man, can it? What I think I remember was years ago. I was a child. How can this be the same man?'

'Man?' asked d'Artagnan.

Porthos huffed out a laugh, 'of course, it's a man. It's not some supernatural being, despite what they all say. Someone is out to scare them, and succeeding.'

Aramis and d'Artagnan had spent most of the day humouring the people they spoke with. All had believed the thing they had seen or been attacked by, was a being or creature that did not belong on the Earth. In order to keep the people talking, they had not dismissed the ludicrous suggestions.

'The last man we talked to, he thought you knew about the attacker,' said Athos.

'Like I said to him, all the descriptions were adding up… and yes I was remembering the descriptions from when I was a child-'

'Did you see it, when you were a child?' asked Athos, his tone not quite accusatory, but one that demanded an honest answer.

Porthos started to speak but stopped himself, he shifted awkwardly. Aramis could tell he was not enjoying being the centre of attention. When he finally answered the question they could tell it was difficult for him.

'Yes,' he said. 'I have a blurry recollection of seeing it. I only remember the fear, the abject terror…'

He trailed off for a few seconds. They waited in silence for him to continue.

'I didn't want to say anything because I can't add anything. I have no clear image of it. I'd forgotten about it until yesterday when Treville gave the description. Even then all I could remember was the fear.'

Athos nodded, 'you should have said something,' he said. 'You did not have to come with us today-'

Porthos laughed, 'I know now - as an adult - that it is not a creature from Hell. I know it's just a man. And I can deal with a man… And I want to deal with this man.'

Porthos was sitting straight in his chair, the reluctance to participate in the discussion gone.

'In which case,' said Athos. 'We should return to the garrison and update the Captain with our findings.'

MMMM