Practical Demonology , livre ebook

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-4558-4 eISBN 978-1-6833-5936-4
Text 2022 Clare Rees
Title page illustration 2022 Colin Verdi
Book design by Chelsea Hunter
Published in 2022 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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To Maggie and John
Chapter 1
Plague! Plague!
A new voice cried the announcement this morning. Last night the crier had called the warning through the citadel streets until their voice went hoarse, and then bells had been rung until the early hours. Surely there was nobody now who didn t know?
Non listened for the voice as it moved through the different passageways and alleys, trying to work out where it was, how far away now, whose house it was outside. Apart from the crier, the street was eerily silent. There were none of the normal morning noises-that undertone of life you didn t notice until it wasn t there. The emptiness felt oppressive, more jarring than any noise would have been.
She lined the bottles up in front of her. She d already pasted the labels on, and the first batch of medicine was cool enough now to go in. The second was bubbling on the stove. Another five minutes, no more. The smell was filling the room, acrid, sharp, so that it collected at the back of her throat. But she liked it-that part-chemical, part-herby smoke that was so strong it was almost a taste.
One wall of the room was lined with books-half were science and medicine, but the others were stories and tales of people s lives. Some were made up and some were true, but Non didn t always feel there was much difference. Some of the true stories, the experiences people had lived, were so fantastical and bizarre that they didn t seem to be so different from the fairy tales. There were enough different worlds and life stories of extraordinary people in the room that you didn t need to leave.
It was the medical books she meant to read, of course, so she could go on and become a doctor, just like her dad. It was a great career choice-sensible, useful, helping others, respected. Absolutely a great decision. And she was really glad she d made that decision. There hadn t been another one to make that would be as sensible as that.
It s just that the medical books weren t always as interesting as the others; even when she d read them, sometimes she couldn t remember what they d been about. It was fine, though; when that happened, she just switched off whatever her daydream had been-those unofficial, unexpected thoughts that kept seeping in-and read the page again until it all made sense. It was all fine, and she liked staying here, in safety, inside the walls of the house-living other people s lives, hearing other people s stories, experiencing more than you ever could outside in the world by yourself.
There was a gap on one of the shelves, the blank space there important. Even when her dad bought new books, and though there was a stack overflowing onto his desk right now, they were never put on the shelf to fill that gap. It was a gap that, Non estimated, would fit maybe four reasonably sized books or notebooks. She didn t wonder about it much other than to notice it, though it had obviously been where her mum s books went. Her dad didn t comment either. It was just one of those many things they didn t want to discuss and didn t need to discuss.
On the other walls, there were rows of bottles and jars. Most Non knew the names of, at least, and could identify, but not all. Some were dusty each time she cleaned them-still untouched and unused since the last time. She knew what some of them did-what they cured-and how the careful combination of two powders could change the properties of the medicine into something quite different. It was interesting, sort of, but it sometimes felt more like the witchcraft in those fairy stories than science. The medicine books were not that different from how she imagined witches potion books to be. Especially now, when they didn t have a cure-when they didn t know what the plague actually was.
She hadn t entirely made the medicine up. It was all sensible ingredients. A pinch of this to stop the diarrhea, a pinch of that to ease stomach cramps, a pinch of this to help with the nausea. It would help those suffering from the mysterious illness anyway. There were notes in the back of the medical books-things people had tried before, the last time the plague had struck. One interesting thing they d noted was that there appeared to be two different types of plague-similar symptoms, but one more serious than the other. That bit had been underlined. The problem with plague, though, was that when it struck, nobody had time for exploring interesting things, so that crucial detail didn t seem to have been researched further. It was too early to tell which strain it was yet, but she hoped it would be the milder form. She d used the notes as a guide in making the medicine anyway, but in a more sensible ratio, and had added in mint and sugar to help with the taste.
She wrote her own notes in now-and a date. Two different hands had made the earlier notes, and the ink was faded. She wondered how long ago they had written their findings down. This century? Last? And she wondered how many people had died those times. It was different when you didn t know the people-it was just an abstract concept then, the number of deaths. She didn t let herself think about how many there would be this time. They d learned from the mistakes of the past, and they were ready. Like everything in the citadel, the plague was predictable, and there were procedures to follow, all written down neatly in the council rules. It s only that the outcome of the plague was unpredictable, that s all.
Oh, Non, don t worry about all this. Her father s voice made her jump. As he came in, she could see his face was already lined with tiredness, his shirt crumpled. He must have slept in it-even though she d left out another three, clean and ironed, ready for him to change into. Thanks for doing it, but you ll be late.
I don t think I should go, she said. I think I should stay and help you here.
You won t help me by being here.
But I can make the medicine and make sure you eat.
And I can do those things too. You ll be more of a worry to me if you re here. I ll be worrying about you catching it.
But what if you catch it?
He paused. Then we ll figure that out if it happens. He paused again, looking at her through the steam. She busied herself taking the bubbling medicine off the stove.
This one is done now too, she said. And the bottles are ready. You just need to pour it in when it s cooled. I ve left everything ready for you.
I know you re scared, Non, but you are going to have to leave.
Non didn t flinch, because she was already so tense she could barely breathe. I got as much food in for you as I could, she said. But it was difficult to get everything I wanted.
I ll be all right, Non. I know what I m doing.
And I know what I m doing too. I m not a child! she snapped. And then wished she hadn t. She felt whiny, pathetic, and immature just using that line-like it undermined everything she d already said and done, as well as any of the arguments she was going to make.
No. You re not. He sighed, and she knew she was keeping him from those who needed him. So you understand the dangers. And the fact is, right now it s more dangerous for you to stay.
She smiled grimly and closed the books, putting them back in their correct places on the shelves.
You ll be a worry to me if you stay.
Fine.
Have you got your own things packed?
She checked through her bag. She d thrown everything in last night, when the quarantine had been announced. But she d packed badly. Even as she was doing it, she knew she hadn t wanted to go.
I still think I should stay, she said. I could even just stay indoors here and not go out. That would be almost like going to quarantine.
No, staying in a plague-ridden citadel is not as effective as going somewhere that has no infection at all. He paused. You will be fine, Non. Just like I ll be fine. Stay inside the castle walls and you ll be safe. Keep up with your studies and then maybe you can help next time there s a crisis. It ll only be a couple of weeks anyway. Treat it like a holiday.
She grimaced. Worst holiday ever.
He laughed. I love you, darling, and so will everybody else-if you only give them a chance to get to know you. Maybe just try that? He gave her a long look, then added, Look, just stay inside those castle walls. Keep yourself safe. It s only a short journey to get there, and then you ll be out of harm s way. It ll be fine, Non.
She reached over and hugged him tightly. I love you, Dad.
He hugged her back before peeling her arms away and pushing her toward the door. I love you too. But you ve still got to go.
Chapter 2
There was no one on the streets that morning-most of the shutters were still closed. Although they lived close to the gate, in this part of the c