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The Thief of Always
Clive Barker
The horror story your students have been asking you for! The only children’s story by the master of horror.Mr Hood’s Holiday House has stood for a thousand years, welcoming countless children into its embrace. It is a place of miracles, a blissful round of treats and seasons, where every childish whim may be satisfied.There is a price to be paid, of course, but young Harvey Swick, bored with his life and beguiled by Mr Hood’s wonders, does not stop to discover the consequences. It is only when the House shows its darker face – when Harvey discovers the pitiful creatures that dwell in its shadow – that he comes to doubt Mr Hood’s philanthropy.The house and its mysterious architect are not about to release their captive without a battle, however. Mr Hood has ambitions for his new guest, for Harvey’s soul burns brighter than any soul he has encountered for a thousand years…
Copyright (#ulink_d7ab929d-1c4e-56e9-a803-161e89dfc9d2)
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1983
Copyright © Clive Barker 1992
All illustrations copyright © Clive Barker 1992
Clive Barker asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Source ISBN: 9780006473114
Ebook Edition © December 2013 ISBN: 9780007397532
Version: 2018-11-05
PRAISE FOR (#ulink_d9489255-2fa0-5c70-966f-e9423d760f74)
The Thief of Always
‘A great fable’ INTERZONE
‘Disturbing … Intriguing … A compelling novel … refreshingly comic’
TIMES EDUCATIONAL SUPPLEMENT
‘Gorgeous prose brimming with invention, the wonderstuff we’ve come to expect from the maestro of dark fantasy … A dazzling treasure of the fabulous and the wicked from a master storyteller who seems intent upon single-handedly spinning the myths and fairytales, both dark and wondrous, of our time’
NORTHERN ECHO
‘Clever, concise and traditional … Barker has a powerful talent for arousing apprehensions’
THE TIMES
‘Something for everyone here and an impressive excursion into childhood fears and delights’
MIDWEEK
‘Swiftly and vigorously told, it should be much enjoyed’
SUNDAY EXPRESS
‘Delightful, but with enough of Barker’s demonic flair to beguile fans of his more paint-the-room-red ventures’
GLASGOW HERALD
‘Will obviously attract at least as many adult as younger readers, and shouldn’t disappoint many of any age’
CITY LIMITS
Locus Best of the Year recommended reads:
‘In terms of artistic bravery and accomplishment, I was delighted to see what Clive Barker and Stephen King accomplished. Barker’s The Thief of Always is a lean fable for readers of all ages dealing with the taking of magic and the giving it back. It’s pretty wonderful’
EDWARD BRYANT
Dedication (#ulink_72b8e039-a5c7-5422-a201-3d7462568719)
To M. S. S.
Contents
Cover (#u54dbef8f-1cf4-53c4-89f8-fd10dc529c6b)
Title Page (#u6948bef7-91c0-5a61-8a62-a1e5e9e02d2f)
Copyright (#ulink_585ae149-9753-59d0-bc64-f67ea5a709e1)
Praise (#ulink_11907a95-828b-518b-815c-1b5c2fbaa3a2)
Dedication (#ulink_41837c21-7acb-5655-9290-64e477f217e6)
The Thief of Always
I Harvey, Half-Devoured (#ulink_7982b7d1-e2fd-557d-bbbc-402c218110cc)
II The Hidden Way (#ulink_783c84bc-d0f9-5584-92d7-6e06831693af)
III Pleasure and the Worm (#ulink_e7850f3f-11e1-51e4-8ef7-be698a1092a5)
IV A Death Between Seasons (#ulink_a62ff2e2-1a6e-5130-a938-4baef3b8dd54)
V The Prisoners (#ulink_10c9f1a2-69eb-58c2-9f15-95ee963d2860)
VI Seen and Unseen (#ulink_723b7940-dbde-5648-92e4-d678153331c7)
VII A Present From the Past (#litres_trial_promo)
VIII Hungry Waters (#litres_trial_promo)
IX What Do You Dream? (#litres_trial_promo)
X Falling From Grace (#litres_trial_promo)
XI Turnabout (#litres_trial_promo)
XII What the Flood Gave Up; (And What It Took) (#litres_trial_promo)
XIII The Fourth Part of Darkness (#litres_trial_promo)
XIV Time Was (#litres_trial_promo)
XV New Nightmares (#litres_trial_promo)
XVI Back To the Happy Land (#litres_trial_promo)
XVII Cook, Cat and Coffin (#litres_trial_promo)
XVIII The Bitter Truth (#litres_trial_promo)
XIX Dust To Dust (#litres_trial_promo)
XX The Thieves Meet (#litres_trial_promo)
XXI Tricks and Temptations (#litres_trial_promo)
XXII Appetite (#litres_trial_promo)
XXIII The War of Seasons (#litres_trial_promo)
XXIV A Fledgling Thief (#litres_trial_promo)
XXV The Vortex (#litres_trial_promo)
XXVI Living Proof (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
The Thief of Always (#ulink_c099627b-d8f5-5f57-babd-f344159fd9bc)
I (#ulink_5e9cb5f8-79d4-5085-9c69-ac0fe44e813c)
Harvey, Half-Devoured (#ulink_5e9cb5f8-79d4-5085-9c69-ac0fe44e813c)
THE GREAT grey beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive. Here he was, buried in the belly of that smothering month, wondering if he would ever find his way out through the cold coils that lay between here and Easter.
He didn’t think much of his chances. More than likely he’d become so bored as the hours crawled by that one day he’d simply forget to breathe. Then maybe people would wonder why such a fine young lad had perished in his prime. It would become a celebrated mystery, which wouldn’t be solved until some great detective decided to recreate a day in Harvey’s life.
Then, and only then, would the grim truth be discovered. The detective would first follow Harvey’s route to school every morning, trekking through the dismal streets. Then he’d sit at Harvey’s desk, and listen to the pitiful drone of the history teacher and the science teacher, and wonder how the heroic boy had managed to keep his eyes open. And finally, as the wasted day dwindled to dusk, he’d trace the homeward trek, and as he set foot on the step from which he had departed that morning, and people asked him – as they would – why such a sweet soul as Harvey had died, he would shake his head and say:
‘It’s very simple.’
‘Oh?’ the curious crowd would say. ‘Do tell.’
And, brushing away a tear, the detective would reply:
‘Harvey Swick was eaten by the great grey beast February.’
IT WAS A monstrous month, that was for sure; a dire and dreary month. The pleasures of Christmas, both sharp and sweet, were already dimming in Harvey’s memory, and the promise of summer was so remote as to be mythical. There’d be a spring break, of course, but how far off was that? Five weeks? Six? Mathematics wasn’t his strong point, so he didn’t irritate himself further by attempting – and failing – to calculate the days. He simply knew that long before the sun came to save him he would have withered away in the belly of the beast.
‘YOU SHOULDN’T WASTE your time sitting up here,’ his Mum said when she came in and found him watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass of his bedroom window.
‘I’ve got nothing better to do,’ Harvey said, without looking round.
‘Well then, you can make yourself useful,’ his Mum said.
Harvey shuddered. Useful? That was another word for hard labour. He sprang up, marshalling his excuses – he hadn’t done this; he hadn’t done that – but it was too late.
‘You can start by tidying up this room,’ his Mum said.
‘But—’
‘Don’t sit wishing the days away, dear. Life’s too short.’
‘But—’
‘That’s a good boy.’
And with that she left him to it. Muttering to himself, he stared around the room. It wasn’t even untidy. There were one or two games scattered around; a couple of drawers open; a few clothes hanging out: it looked just fine.
‘I am ten,’ he said to himself (having no brothers and sisters he talked to himself a good deal). ‘I mean, it’s not as if I’m a kid. I don’t have to tidy up just because she says so. It’s boring.’
He wasn’t just muttering now, he was talking out loud.
‘I want to … I want to …’ He went to the mirror, and quizzed it. ‘What do I want?’ The straw-haired, snub-nosed, brown-eyed boy he saw before him shook his head. ‘I don’t know what I want,’ he said. ‘I just know I’ll die if I don’t have some fun. I will! I’ll die!’
As he spoke, the window rattled. A gust of wind blew hard against it – then a second; then a third – and even though Harvey didn’t remember the window being so much as an inch ajar, it was suddenly thrown open. Cold rain spattered his face. Half-closing his eyes he crossed to the window and fumbled to slam it, making sure that the latch was in place this time.
