The Curious Tale Of Orpheus King: 1: The Devourer

By Keith Dumble

London, 1922.

In a world still coming to terms with the aftermath of the First World War, Orpheus King is a struggling young stage magician trying to make an impression on the fickle audiences of the music halls and theatres of the capital.

Despondent and penniless, he considers giving up on his dreams — until a strange visitor reveals an impossible truth that causes Orpheus to question everything he believes.

The Devourer is the first episode of The Curious Tale of Orpheus King, a story of occult secrets and brooding horror in the tradition of H.P. Lovecraft.

So join Orpheus as he discovers what strange and curious secrets lie beyond the veil ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keith Dumble
• Release date: Feb 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311745460

Keith Dumble

I am a writer from Edinburgh, Scotland.I write history, mystery and speculative fiction, focusing on the sci-fi and fantasy genres. As an indie author, I regularly publish short stories, serials, novellas and longer works of fiction on the main e-book platforms.

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The Curious Tale of Orpheus King

1: The Devourer

by Keith Dumble

Copyright © 2015 by Keith Dumble. All rights reserved.

Cover copyright © 2015 by Keith Dumble.

www.keithdumble.com

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

Thank you for purchasing and supporting my work. If you have enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review wherever you bought this book.

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ORPHEUS KING

I

THE GIRL WAS quite the looker.

Black hair, cut sharp, framing her face in a sleek helmet. A turned-up nose above inkblot lips. A double string of pearls draped around a slender throat; a black dress showing a hint of shoulder.

She almost made him forget what he was doing.

Orpheus King cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie with white gloved fingers. It was time.

'Ladies,' he said, trying without success to catch the eye of the girl, 'and gentlemen. I thank you most profusely for your attention. You are quite the finest audience I have had the pleasure of performing in front of for some time.'

Silence. Orpheus performed a deep and elaborate bow, taking the chance to retrieve the folded square of silk from the hem of his trouser leg and conceal it within his palm.

'Get on with it!' A brash voice from the back of the music hall, followed by a shallow wave of laughter coursing towards him. The girl giggled behind elegant fingers.

Orpheus took a deep breath, approached the birdcage and opened the door. The dove fluttered its wings, then hopped onto his outstretched finger.

'Behold!' he said, holding the bird aloft. It preened itself, its beak buried beneath one raised wing. 'The symbol of peace! Of hope!'

'It looks more like a bloody pigeon, mate!' More laughter, harsher this time.

Orpheus waved his free hand above his head, unfurling the hidden square of silk with a flourish. A smattering of applause.

'Now,' he said, walking towards the table at the front of the stage. 'Keep your eyes on this beautiful creature as I make it disappear before your very eyes!'

He scanned the faces of the audience. Most were impassive, as unmoved as the carved stucco masks which stared back at him from the facade of the balcony. The girl was whispering something to her companion, an older woman with a stern expression and an elaborate black feathered hat.

He flicked the catch on the front of the box with his thumb, letting the side facing the audience drop. He placed the bird inside then draped the silk in front of the opening, quickly sliding back the base and depositing the dove inside the hidden compartment in the table. Adjusting the silk so that it covered the whole box, Orpheus took his wand from his breast pocket.

'Now, witness the power of the most mysterious of magics!' He rapped the top of the box twice, his eyes closed. 'Behold!'

He snatched the silk, releasing the catch which held the box's hinges in place at the same time. The sides fell outwards, resting flat across the table. Orpheus took a step back, bowing to the left and right, the applause gradually growing.

Then ceasing immediately as the dove's head appeared above the surface of the table, its beak pecking at the half-open panel in an attempt to free itself.

Orpheus' shoulders drooped as the jeers and catcalls filled the auditorium. The pretty young thing in the front row was doubled with laughter. Her companion glared at him disapprovingly, the feathers on her hat shaking with indignation.

The curtain fell as quick as a guillotine.

__________

'Don't you think you've had enough there, friend?'

Orpheus traced a circle on the surface of the bar, wishing it would somehow open up a portal into which he could throw himself. He leaned back on the stool, stretching his arms behind his back.

'One more,' he said, 'then I'll be on my way, I promise.'

'You're the boss.' The barman was around the same age as Orpheus, a bushy brown moustache and well-cultivated sideburns making him appear older. He reached for the whisky bottle. 'Same again?'

'Make it a double. No water.'

'You'll have a humdinger of a head in the morning.'

'I don't plan on seeing the morning to be honest.'

The barman raised an eyebrow. 'Not thinking of doing yourself in now, are you?'

'No, no.' The words stumbled past Orpheus' lips. 'I've nothing I need do until well after noon.'

'Alright for some. You a toff then?'

'Far from it, I'm afraid. I'm a magician.'

'You're having a laugh, aren't you?' The barman handed Orpheus his drink.

'I suppose I am.' Orpheus stared into the golden liquid. 'I don't appear to be making much of a success of things.'

'Chin up, friend. The world could do with a bit of magic right now.'

'You're not wrong. Though all I seem to have up my sleeves is a rather clumsy pair of hands. Of little use to anyone.'

'You're a right cheery bugger and no mistake.' The barman leaned over, peering down at the covered birdcage between Orpheus' feet. 'What's that you've got there?'

'The closest I have to an assistant.' Orpheus took a long sip of the whisky, holding it in his mouth until he felt the back of his throat tingle. 'Though not, it has to be said, the most obedient one.'

'A bird, is it? Not able to attract anything more … exotic?' The barman smirked, polishing a glass with a greasy cloth.

'Not for quite some time, I'm afraid.' Orpheus thought of the girl in the audience.

'Never mind, there's company of a certain kind that can be paid for, if you get my meaning.'

Orpheus shook his head, as much to clear his head as to protest. 'I'm of the view companionship should be earned through trust, not bought with money.'

'A magician and a romantic?' The barman whistled through his teeth. 'Quite the rarity, aren't you? Especially round these parts. By the by,' he said, pointing to the shrouded cage, 'I don't allow no animals in my establishment.'

'Strictly speaking, a bird is not an animal.' Orpheus' mind felt as though it was sinking. 'It's a bird.'

'Well, aren't you a card?' The barman reached across and snatched the glass of whisky, spilling some of the contents on the starched white cuff of Orpheus' shirt. 'Why don't you just conjure up one of