slightly and her power flagged. The eyes of the
creature took on a murderous glow as it attacked, screeching. Church was rooted
in horror; Ruth didn't stand a chance.
Her brow knitted slightly, her hand made one insistent cutting action and
the intruder collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Filled with questions, Church moved towards her, but when her head
snapped in his direction a chill ran through him. She was still caught up in the
intensity of the moment, fury locked in her face, so much that she barely recognised him. Her hand lifted, ready to strike out.
"Ruth!"
It took an uneasy second or two for recognition to seep into her coldly glittering eyes. "The bastard thought he could take me unawares again." Her voice
was drained of energy.
Cautiously, Church approached until he was sure the Ruth he had seen earlier had departed. It wasn't the time to voice his doubts. Instead he asked,
"What is it?"
She levered herself off the bed and crossed the room. "What is it?" she
repeated bitterly. To Church's discomfort she launched a sharp kick at the prone
figure. "He's the bastard that cut off my finger." She held up her hand to show
him the mass of scar tissue that marked the missing digit. "The bastard that
delivered me to the Fomorii and put me through weeks of hell." She used her
foot to roll the intruder on to his back. "Callow."
Church started when he saw the figure's face for the first time. It was indeed
Callow, but so transformed he was almost unrecognisable. The wild silver hair
and dark, shabby suit were still there, but his skin was as dry and white as parchment across which the veins stood out in stark black. Although he was uncon scious, his lidless eyes continued to stare; in his gaping mouth they could
glimpse the dark of rotting teeth.
"My God, what have they done to him?" Church knelt down to inspect him,
but the sour stench that came off the once-man made him pull back.
"Careful. He'll be awake soon."
They bound him tightly in the old fishing net that had hung on one wall, then
waited for him to come to his senses. It was unnerving to watch his constantly
staring eyes, not knowing if he was still unconscious or slyly watching them,
but a slight tremor in his facial muscles gave away his waking.
"I ought to kill you," Ruth said.
"Do it. Put me out of my misery." He looked away. Tears had formed in the
corner of his eyes, but unable to blink them away, he had to wait for them to break.
"Don't try to make us feel sympathy," Ruth sneered. "You drained the well
dry a long time ago."
"I don't want sympathy, or pity, or any other pathetic emotion." It was the
voice of a spoiled child. "I want you dead."
The curtains flew up like a flock of birds as another gust of wind and rain
surged in. "We were very generous to you when we first met," Church said.
"I wouldn't look like this if not for you. I wouldn't be on my own, neither
fish nor fowl. I can't move amongst people any more, and Calatin will no
longer-"
"Calatin's been wiped from all existence by one of his own kind." Church
watched the confused emotions range across Callow's face.
After a moment he began to cry again, slow, silent, juddering sobs that
racked his body. "Then there's nowhere for me!"
Unmoved, Ruth turned to Church in irritation. "What are we going to do
with him?"
The sobbing stopped suddenly. Callow was watching them intently. "Little
pinkies!" He started to giggle at this. "Five fingers, and I'm taking them one at
a time, to pay you back for raising your hand against me! I took your finger, did
I not, girlie? Your life should have followed, but I can rectify that, given half a
chance. And I have another finger in my collection, too."
It took a second or two for his meaning to register, and then Ruth flew
across the room in fury. "What do you mean?"
The black veins tattooing his face shifted as his sly smile grew wider. "One
little pinkie, one little life-"
Ruth cut his words short with a hefty
creature took on a murderous glow as it attacked, screeching. Church was rooted
in horror; Ruth didn't stand a chance.
Her brow knitted slightly, her hand made one insistent cutting action and
the intruder collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Filled with questions, Church moved towards her, but when her head
snapped in his direction a chill ran through him. She was still caught up in the
intensity of the moment, fury locked in her face, so much that she barely recognised him. Her hand lifted, ready to strike out.
"Ruth!"
It took an uneasy second or two for recognition to seep into her coldly glittering eyes. "The bastard thought he could take me unawares again." Her voice
was drained of energy.
Cautiously, Church approached until he was sure the Ruth he had seen earlier had departed. It wasn't the time to voice his doubts. Instead he asked,
"What is it?"
She levered herself off the bed and crossed the room. "What is it?" she
repeated bitterly. To Church's discomfort she launched a sharp kick at the prone
figure. "He's the bastard that cut off my finger." She held up her hand to show
him the mass of scar tissue that marked the missing digit. "The bastard that
delivered me to the Fomorii and put me through weeks of hell." She used her
foot to roll the intruder on to his back. "Callow."
Church started when he saw the figure's face for the first time. It was indeed
Callow, but so transformed he was almost unrecognisable. The wild silver hair
and dark, shabby suit were still there, but his skin was as dry and white as parchment across which the veins stood out in stark black. Although he was uncon scious, his lidless eyes continued to stare; in his gaping mouth they could
glimpse the dark of rotting teeth.
"My God, what have they done to him?" Church knelt down to inspect him,
but the sour stench that came off the once-man made him pull back.
"Careful. He'll be awake soon."
They bound him tightly in the old fishing net that had hung on one wall, then
waited for him to come to his senses. It was unnerving to watch his constantly
staring eyes, not knowing if he was still unconscious or slyly watching them,
but a slight tremor in his facial muscles gave away his waking.
"I ought to kill you," Ruth said.
"Do it. Put me out of my misery." He looked away. Tears had formed in the
corner of his eyes, but unable to blink them away, he had to wait for them to break.
"Don't try to make us feel sympathy," Ruth sneered. "You drained the well
dry a long time ago."
"I don't want sympathy, or pity, or any other pathetic emotion." It was the
voice of a spoiled child. "I want you dead."
The curtains flew up like a flock of birds as another gust of wind and rain
surged in. "We were very generous to you when we first met," Church said.
"I wouldn't look like this if not for you. I wouldn't be on my own, neither
fish nor fowl. I can't move amongst people any more, and Calatin will no
longer-"
"Calatin's been wiped from all existence by one of his own kind." Church
watched the confused emotions range across Callow's face.
After a moment he began to cry again, slow, silent, juddering sobs that
racked his body. "Then there's nowhere for me!"
Unmoved, Ruth turned to Church in irritation. "What are we going to do
with him?"
The sobbing stopped suddenly. Callow was watching them intently. "Little
pinkies!" He started to giggle at this. "Five fingers, and I'm taking them one at
a time, to pay you back for raising your hand against me! I took your finger, did
I not, girlie? Your life should have followed, but I can rectify that, given half a
chance. And I have another finger in my collection, too."
It took a second or two for his meaning to register, and then Ruth flew
across the room in fury. "What do you mean?"
The black veins tattooing his face shifted as his sly smile grew wider. "One
little pinkie, one little life-"
Ruth cut his words short with a hefty
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