Chapter 7
The sound of their footfalls echoed through the night. Elizabeth thought it inconceivable that people in the surrounding houses would not hear their desperate flight. But the houses were dark, their occupants asleep, dreaming of the nice safe lives they would wake up to tomorrow. Elizabeth wondered what she would wake up to tomorrow. No one came running out of those silent houses to their rescue. They were utterly alone in the middle of thousands of people.
"Wait, wait." Wil stopped their flight and they stood in the street, breathing heavily.
"What is it? Why have we stopped!?" Elizabeth squeaked in panic.
Wil didn't immediately answer, staring hard into the middle distance.
"This is stupid, really stupid. We can't do this," she said finally.
"Do what for God's sake?"
"We're running to your house. We can't lead this fuck back to your home!"
"But it's only a few minutes away - we can make it!"
"For fuck's sake think, Elizabeth! What difference does it make where we run? We're just gonna put your family in danger. It's better to hide, buy time, wait for Azrael." Or failing that, make sure I don't get taken alive. She left the thought unspoken.
"Oh. Oh, yes, I see. Yes, yes, you're right," Elizabeth stammered. "I wasn't thinking."
"Neither was I. And it's beginning to bug me." This damned woman must be affecting her somehow - she had never panicked like this before. Or cried.
"We must do something quickly! He's getting awfully close!" Elizabeth's voice found its panicked pitch again.
Wil snapped a glance behind her. The figure was closer now. Close enough to clearly hear his footfalls. They regarded the ominous figure with its steady loping run.
Dragging their eyes from that menacing shape, Wil looked left then right. She sucked in a deep breath of air, held it for a moment, then slowly exhaled. It helped to wash Elizabeth's mounting panic from her consciousness.
"This way," she commanded, her voice flat, and ran toward the houses on the left without waiting for a reply.
Wil padded down the side of someone's house, violating the unwritten sanctity of private property for the second time that night. She tugged at the top of the row of planks making up the dividing fence between this property and the next, testing their resistance.
"Wh...what are we doing?"
"You," Wil's voice was cold and distant, "are doing nothing. Shut up and don't interfere. I'm gonna buy some time for Azrael to get here." Azrael! If he wasn't still on the playing board they were as good as fucked. Wil fought back the sense of panic at the thought. "We..." Wil hesitated for a moment, "need Azrael. I doubt I can stop this bastard by myself. Not in this condition anyway."
"He will save us - I know it. Just like last time."
Will shook their head slightly but said nothing as she began to apply force to the fence. A board moved minimally under her fingertips. Wil stopped, put both hands to it and pulled. The fence stubbornly resisted giving up this most sacred piece of itself, as though the fence considered itself incomplete if it was missing even one plank. After a short but violent struggle the board shuddered and popped free. Wil staggered back, her prize gripped triumphantly in small, white-knuckled hands; two long nails projecting from either end of the board.
"Good. Force multiplier," she muttered.
"What on earth are you planning? You're not going to fight him are you?"
"It's time to counter-attack. The enemy will be expecting our continued flight. He'll be vulnerable to a surprise counter-offensive." She sounded as though she were reciting from a manual.
"Oh. Look, I really think we ought to..."
"Shut up. We only have a few minutes."
"But...!"
"I said shut the fuck up!"
Elizabeth fell quiet, a sick feeling of dread overwhelming her at the thought of the upcoming conflict, combined with a sense of unease at Wil's change of manner - she was all of a sudden so cold and distant, like a different person.
Wil positioned them at the back of the darkened house, her eyes taking in the terrain of the moonlit backyard. Satisfied she turned her attention back to the street and stood, silent and still.
"What are you doing?! He will see us from the street if we stand here!"
"That's the plan. Now please - shut. The fuck. Up."
Elizabeth fell silent again - the fear and a sense of anticipation overwhelming. Her throat was dry, constricted.
"Please try to remain calm, Elizabeth. You're being disruptive."
Elizabeth nodded mutely.
The sound of footsteps grew louder. To Elizabeth they seemed to become deafening and the instinct to flee whelmed up within her, but their body did not move. Everything seemed to stand still, as though time itself had frozen and the world around them was nothing but a painting.
There was movement out on the street. It was he!
Wil gasped and ducked back behind the house. She hoisted her board up, holding it by one end, and waited, breathing deep and even breaths.
Their pursuer had obviously heard Wil's gasp and seen the movement of her clumsy attempt to hide. Elizabeth heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.
Wil tensed slightly, the board behind her shoulders, winding up as though playing baseball. The footsteps were frighteningly close now - he was only a few feet away and would be visible in but a moment.
Wil began to swing even before Flin rounded the corner.
Flin was a mass of seething emotion. He struggled to control the sensations washing through his brain, at times they threatened to overwhelm him, then at times he regained complete control - the cold familiar comfort of logic and order ruling him once more. Those moments of calm lucidity were becoming fewer.
Flin gazed around him. The target had disappeared around here somewhere. He had taken his eyes of it for just a moment - then it was gone. If he didn't know better he would have thought that it'd slipped through a dimensional gate. Impossible, he told himself, it had to be around here somewhere. Flin fancied he could smell its fear.
There was a small sound and movement to his left. There - it was trying to hide! A cold smile crossed his deformed features as he regarded the point where his quarry had disappeared.
Flin broke into a jog, covering the ground within seconds. Just before the corner of the house he began to walk, savoring the sensation of victory. It would be there, helpless, and it would beg him for its life. If it knew what was coming it would beg for death. The cold, malevolent smile returned to his features as he stepped around the corner.
He had a fraction of a second to be surprised at how close it was standing, only just around the corner, and to become aware of a blur of movement.
A bomb exploded inside his skull and everything went black.
The hulking figure staggered backward, the board literally nailed to his forehead. He stopped, swayed, then fell backwards into the fence - ending half propped against it, half lying on the grass. Wil/Elizabeth gazed at the unmoving body for a few moments.
"Too easy," muttered Wil flatly, more to herself than Elizabeth. Then she added, "Disappointing."
They turned and began to walk away from their prostrate erstwhile tormentor.
"Well," said Elizabeth, the release of tension palpable in her voice, "that's that then is it?"
"We still have much to do," Wil replied, her tone still flat. "Like getting out of here. We need to put as much distance as possible between us an' them. All of them. We need'a collect supplies an' move out ASAP. Then I need to work out how to clear up the mother of all fuck-ups an'... an'..."
She did not finish her sentence. This was not because of the sound of movement behind them - it was for some other, unspoken, reason. Rather the silence of the uncompleted sentence meant the wet sliding, scraping noise was easily audible.
"Shit."
They turned and Elizabeth cried out involuntarily. Flin had grasped the plank embedded in his forehead with both hands, and, under their horrified gaze, was slowly dragging the nails out of his living brain.
The plank came away from his skull and his eyes found theirs, his face covered with a thick stream of dark blood. He smiled.
Elizabeth gave a short cry of terror. Wil did not react at all.
Flin stood - slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed upon them. He managed to hold a look of pure lustful desire and utter hatred upon his face at the same time. The smile was still there - empty, cold.
Elizabeth took a step back as his giant frame rose up, towering over them.
"Ohhh, don't be frightened, child." The voice was scornful, triumphant. "I promise this won't hurt. Much."
Elizabeth whimpered but it was Wil that took their next few steps back, positioning them in the middle of the backyard and dropping into a guard stance - left leg leading, weight toward her back foot, hands in front of her, held low.
Flin had begun to advance as she retreated, then halted as she adopted her defensive position - defying him.
"Why little one - are you going to fight me?" The idea seemed to amuse him. He feigned confusion. "And how exactly do you expect to defeat me," he slid the next word from his mouth laden with venom, "insect?" Her reaction was a disappointment - there was none. Her blank expression did not change one iota - it was as though she were looking through him.
Flin didn't register any concern. He did not for one second believe this tiny mortal body opposing him held any real threat. Her demon ally was not going to be coming to help her this time. He decided to toy with her - no need to rush unto ascension, after all. It was time to play. He wiped the blood from his face - the wounds had already stopped bleeding.
"Or perhaps you know you cannot defeat me? Perhaps you are merely playing for time - hoping that that thing you have allied yourself with will come to your rescue once more? After all, its intervention is the only reason you are still here. Isn't it?" Flin gazed upon her blank face for a moment. He had to admit her lack to response was interesting, unlike any human he had encountered in his short experience with this dimension. Soon to be his dimension, he reminded himself. He began to circle her. She turned just enough to keep facing him.
"Unfortunately that thing won't be joining us tonight. Or any night in fact as I just incinerated him - slowly. You should have heard it scream for mercy." He ran his tongue across his upper teeth as though he could taste the pain he had inflicted. "It was quite pitiful at the end, the way it begged. All you can really expect from an animal I suppose. I'm looking forward to hearing the noises you make when I break every bone in that feeble body of yours."
Elizabeth gave a strangled yelp. Wil staggered slightly as Elizabeth fainted again. Then she resumed her fighting stance, her face blank once more.
Flin stopped moving. He was between her and the house now; her back was to the fence at the rear of the property.
"Tell me then - who is going to save you this time?"
"No-one, 'cause very soon you'll have talked me to death, shithead."
The outburst after her long, stony silence caught him by surprise. She didn't sound scared. A flash of irritation erupted within him. This organism needed to be taught respect.
"You fear me."
"I've been threatened by the best, fuckstick, and you ain't in that league. Now let's see what ya got for me. C'mon." She rotated her hand, palm up, and twice waggled her fingers. The intent of the gesture was unmistakable - it was an invitation.
Flin's irritation blossomed into anger at the female's defiance. Her stared at her, the smile replaced by a clenched jaw and thin lips. She stood there, still expressionless, her over-sized shirt serving to make her look even smaller. He became aware of that thin layer of material standing between him and her soft, warm flesh. The night breeze caught her partially buttoned garment, exposing her abdomen and pressing the material against her breasts. Then he looked beyond that flesh and saw... power. Lust, greed and rage welled up within him. It was time to take what was his. He stepped forward, expecting a short chase as she fled.
Once again her response took him by surprise.
A pair of large, round, yellow eyes gazed at the scene below. The treetop position provided the impassive observer a clear view. Two bipedal figures stood apart, the male dwarfing the other one, a female - her long blonde hair almost glowing in the moonlight, contrasting with the male's short dark hair. They appeared to be having a verbal exchange but the observer could tell from their postures that this was merely the prelude to something else; with humans that usually meant sex or violence. Or both.
The male took a step forward and the female reacted instantly, as though she had been waiting for his movement. She took two steps forward, leaping in the air, kicking her aggressor in the head and chest. He staggered back under the impact of the blows. She fell on her side, at his feet, and immediately her foot lashed out, catching his knee with an audible crack. The big man lent forward, reaching reflexively for his knee as the woman, still moving, pulled her feet under her and leapt up into a spinning kick, catching him across the jaw with another crack. His head snapped back and he staggered, half-falling against the house. She was all over him, a blur of motion. His hands went to his throat as stiffened fingers dug viciously into his windpipe. Shifting the point of the attack with smooth, practiced efficiency, the heel of her hand slammed into his nose - two savage blows whipping his head back against the wall of the house. She grabbed his hair and brought her knee up into his face again and again. There was blood over her trouser leg, none of it hers.
Stepping back from her stunned opponent, she snapped a kick into his head, the side of her foot smashing into the side of his head once, twice, three times. On the fourth kick his arm shot up and blocked the blow. Reaching forward with almost the same movement he grasped her about the upper arm. With irresistible strength she was pulled forward - Flin smashed his forehead into her face. She went down like a sack of bricks.
The man stood up and shook his head a couple of times, clearing it. Then he reached down and hauled her upward; holding her about the throat he suspended her arm arms lengths above him, choking her. Her legs kicked ineffectually at his body - she could get no leverage. She tried to reach his eyes but his arms were too long - instead she dug long gouges in his forearms with her fingernails. He grunted but otherwise her desperate resistance was ineffective; he continued to choke the life out of her.
The back door of the house opened. A man stepped out, lantern in one hand, musket in the other. The new arrival yelled something at the strangers in his backyard. The big man brought his struggling victim down slightly then threw her high through the air. She landed on the grass in a pile of flailing limbs and lay still. The man turned to face the homeowner, they exchanged words and he advanced. A homeowner, a smaller figure, retreated back into the house, musket leveled and followed by the intruder. The backyard scene fell quiet, empty save for the motionless figure of the blonde woman.
She moved. Then sat half up and looked around, muttered something to herself, shuffled to her right a couple of feet and then lay back down, sprawled on the grass. She had only had a few seconds to spare before the hulking frame of her attacker stepped back out of the house and advanced upon her.
Fluff shifted on her haunches as she watched the struggle unfold.
Flin stepped over his prostrate prize and surveyed her - the thrill of slaughtering that man, his wife and child still washing over him. She lay on her back, eyes closed, her legs spread in a way that sent tingles through his body. Should he enjoy her body before extracting her soul? Why not, he felt as a god already - nothing should be denied to him. He stepped over her.
Her foot lashed out, catching him in the groin, sending sparks of pain sizzling through his body. He doubled up, catching her other foot in the side of the head.
"Aaahhhh!" he screamed, rage filling his system with an unholy fire.
Then he saw what was in her hand.
Cunning little human, he thought as the shovel connected with his head.
Wil brought the shovel down in an overhand arc, feeling the shockwaves from the impact run through her arms. Flin staggered backward two paces from a blow would have certainly killed a human. The shovel continued to arc, using its own momentum to build destructive energy. She spun around - bringing it down across the side of his head, then spun the other way, feeling another titanic impact. Flin went over backwards, crashing to the soil spread-eagled.
Wil breathed deep breaths of cool night air, a flicker of pleasure crossing her face. The transient display of emotion was just as quickly gone as she stepped up to the sprawled figure.
Unrelenting, Wil slammed the tool into his exposed midriff twice, the only expression on her face a snarl from the effort of extracting maximum force from her muscles. She raised the shovel high above her head, blade pointing downward over Flin's face. She saw his eyes register horror as she tensed and powered the weapon downward with all her remaining strength.
He caught the blade of the shovel between his two palms - arresting the deathblow an inch from his face. Wil let out a whine as she strained to drive the tool down that extra inch. That one last holy inch was denied her.
Flin smiled and jerked his arms upward - driving the handle of the shovel into Wil face. She gave a cry of pain and went over backwards. Flin rose to his feet, dripping malevolence as he looked down upon the desperate, backpedaling form before him.
Wil made enough separation between them and leapt up, using her legs and hips to propel her forward and onto her feet, resuming her earlier guard position. She was breathing heavily, her hands trembled slightly as she felt the exhaustion in her muscles, and the pain of her bruises - knowing the end was near. She said nothing.
"Oh dear, still trying are we? How marvelous." Flin took a slow step toward her, twisting slightly as he felt his broken ribs knit back together. "I know what you're trying to do." As he took another step she retreated. "You're trying to make me angry, so angry that I might just accidentally kill you. Very clever. I commend your bravery." He extended his hand to her, the glint of victory in his eyes. "But it won't work - you have lost. Admit it. Come to me and I will make it quick. And painless."
She stared at him for a moment longer. Then a change came over her - her face crumbled and her hands dropped, unclenching.
"Please...please don't hurt me," her voice was different now, "I can't take any more!" She began to cry.
"Ahhh, it's the other one. I am pleased one of you in there can see some sense." He stepped closer to her. "There, there, child, it's all right." He extended his arms wide, inviting her. After a moment's hesitation she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his broad torso. He in turn encircled her with his arms, feeling her body move as she began to sob.
I will torture this body like no other in the history of this pathetic dimension, he vowed silently to himself as he held her. Flin felt her body against him, her breasts crushed against his torso, the sensation of her thigh rubbing against his inner thigh, massaging his penis. He began to stir.
Amazing, one's suicidal and one will do anything to survive, he thought. Perhaps I should pleasure it after all, before I start breaking its bones?
He looked down at her, smiling. "I'm glad you took control before this foolishness got out of hand, your friend was going to get you killed."
She looked up, her blue eyes piercing - beautiful in spite of the bruise swelling on her cheek.
"What?" she sniffed. "Oh, no, I think Liz fainted a while ago - it's still me."
Flin's brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyebrows shot up as he grasped her meaning.
Wil's knee crashed into Flin's exposed groin, propelled by every ounce of her remaining strength, while her fingers latched onto his face - her thumbs finding his eyes. She pressed. Flin screamed.
His hands grasped her forearms as he felt nails gouge into his eyeballs. The right eye went with a soft, almost anti-climactic pop - warm liquid like tears flowing down his cheek. Flin forced her arms back away from his face in time to save his remaining sight. He secured both wrists with one giant hand, lifting her struggling body off the ground, ignoring the series of kicks she delivered to his shins, knees and thighs. Her struggles faded to an ineffectual wriggling as he held her about eye level - they regarded each other.
"Now, no more games."
She spat blood in his face. "Fuck you, lefty."
He punched her in the abdomen, feeling her free hanging body rock backward and the air explode from her lungs. Shifting his hold on her, he hurled her bodily against the house. She made a satisfying crunch.
Wil, stunned, barely had time to get her arms and legs in front of her before the numbing impact, followed by another lesser blow as her body hit the ground. She stared at the stars, her lungs a vacuum that refused to fill - paralyzed from the blow. You can see a lot more stars in 18th century Boston, she thought.
A hulking form blocked her view of the illimitable beauty of the heavens.
"Humans are a truly duplicitous species," he muttered.
Flin hauled her upright and roughly pressed her face and chest against the house.
"Now," he whispered in her ear, hate dripping from him, "tell me if this hurts." His fist slammed into her lower back over her kidneys.
"Aaaagghhh!!" Her back arched and her legs went from under her, but Flin held her upright, grinding her against the weatherboards.
"Now was that a yes or a no?"
"Eeeeaaaggghhh!!" Her scream was agonized as his fist again smashed into her bruised kidney. Flin let her drop to the earth, a crumpled broken heap.
The giant man aimed several vicious kicks at her already battered body. The blows were powerful enough to lift her up and back against the house - she didn't have enough breath to scream and merely grunted with each kick.
He regarded her as she made feeble effort to crawl away. Her progress was painstaking - she had made all of a foot when Flin reached for her again, lifting her up as though she weighed no more than a feather. Her back crunched into the weatherboard this time, her expression crumpling as the pain lanced through her.
His hands moved over her front, unbuttoning her shirt, pulling her garment over her shoulders and down to her elbows. She tried to collapse but he wouldn't let her, holding her upright as he regarded her. One powerful arm was behind her back; the other caressed her breast with a curious tenderness.
"Kill me," Wil's plea was almost inaudible, if he hadn't been so close to her he wouldn't have heard it.
"No."
Flin lent closer, his hot breath on her ear. He sniffed, tasting her scent.
"You have no idea as to the horrors you will commit in my name. You cannot possibly know." He whispered to her. "I will make you a thing to be feared." His closeness was unbearable to her, but there was no escape. His breath was on her face now, his lips brushed hers. "A horror. An abomination."
Flin kissed her, gently. She did not resist.
"But first," his lips caressed her bruised cheek, "you must suffer."
Wil looked up into his dark, empty gaze - her brow furrowed, eyes pleading. "Why?"
"Kismet."
Wil slowly shook her head from side to side.
"No," she denied, "it's not true."
"Then explain this." Behind her back his hands encompassed hers, and began to squeeze. She felt her bones compress, the flesh crush, the tendons stretch - the pain began to spread up her arms, into her shoulders. They stared into each other, both their faces distorted into twisted feral expressions - one from rage, one from pain. "Why does the pain come so easily?" Marcus spoke to her face, not expecting or wanting a reply, "And why does this dimension make me want to inflict it so?"
Wil gasped as she felt a bone break.
"All the flesh life on this planet is destined to suffer. Some," he was shaking with emotion now, "more than others."
"Noooooo!" The sound was half denial, half scream of agony.
He released her, catching her as she collapsed and hurling her half way across the backyard in a swinging motion. Wil fell heavily, a tangle of limbs.
"You see, I have concluded that this dimension is a dimension of pain. Everything here lives a short, brutal and pointless life." He walked to her prostrate body as he spoke. His voice had become strangely calm and cold, like the Flin of old. "I understand why my people are forbidden from spending too long a time here. The risk of infection is too great. But I realize now my species does not understand the true potential of this world, that they do not understand that we can learn from the mistake the Nephalim made all those centuries ago - what we can accomplish if our vision is clarified by emotion."
Wil struggled to sit up, unable to focus her dazed vision on anything.
"Don't kill her," she gasped, "don't kill Elizabeth. She is innocent of this."
With a detached casualness, Flin kicked her in the head - knocking her prostrate once again. She half-raised her hands feebly, as though trying to ward off the next unseen blow.
"Have you not been listening?" he snarled at her, rage building in his voice. "All people are wicked. And the wicked must be punished! Together we will purge this dimension of chaos and rebuild it in my image! There are billions of souls here to feed upon - to power the engine of order, of purity!!" He gazed maniacally at some distant point on the horizon - lost for a moment.
Wil rolled her protesting body onto its side and spat out the blood pooling in her mouth. Everything hurt and she was so tired, so very, very tired. She hoped it would be over soon.
"Nutbag," she muttered. It was an effort to speak.
He jerked out of his reverie, his head snapping round to look at her.
"Is there still a spark of resistance in there? Something left to be beaten out?" Flin took a step toward her, a grin sliding across his face. "How delightful."
He hauled her upright, and threw into the back fence. Her bruised body once more erupted in a flash of agonizing pain but she did not posses the strength to even scream - her body crumpled like a boneless lump of meat.
Wil laid on the cool, welcoming earth, unable to think - her mind spinning round and round in a dizzying rush. The urge to throw up was overwhelming. She knew he was standing over her, looking upon his victory. She was vaguely aware of voices coming from somewhere distant. He felt a hand brush her hair back, exposing her ear.
"Excuse me a moment, I have to liquidate some people." His voice was close; he must have been bending over her, she thought vaguely. "After I have completed this little task we will begin your transformation. You will wait over here."
She was lifted up and hurled into the air, floating for an eternity, then crashing to the ground. But now it didn't seem to hurt much - nothing seemed to hurt much anymore. All sensation has receded to a dull background ache. A thought snuck through her skull and told her she must be dying.
No, she replied to the thought. I can't die - not me. I'm too tough. I think I'm just a little bit tired, I might have to sleep now.
She had begun to drift off into the darkness when her body rebelled and began to retch. That hurt - the pain of her body shuddering and vomiting up blood jerked her back to life.
"No!" she whispered to herself, "Don't die on me! Not now!!"
Wil made herself crawl. Each movement produced an agonizing stab from her damaged internal organs. She used that pain to keep herself alive.
Some minutes later Flin returned with new bloodstains on him. He leapt over the fence and looked down. Momentarily he was baffled - she was gone! There was movement to his left and he saw her. Pathetically she was trying to crawl away, using the fence line as a guide so she didn't start crawling in circles. Casually he strolled over to her and kept pace with her painfully slow movements.
"Going somewhere?"
She stopped at the sound of his voice and, with a supreme effort of will, staggered to her feet and began to walk away. She went off course after a few steps, bumped blindly into the fence and collapsed in a heap - defeated.
"Never mind. It'll be over soon." He reached down and grabbed her ankle. Turning Flin dragged the small semi-conscious form behind him as he walked up the grassy slope of Beacon Hill in the ghostly moonlight.
She sat atop the back fence, her haunches moving slightly as she retained her balance on the narrow boards. Her eyes traced the large figure making his way up the hill. It was an odd picture, this giant of a man with the young lady in tow, her blonde hair streaming out behind her as she was dragged along the grass.
Fluff thought for a moment more, then leapt from the fence and set off - following the two adversaries.
Flin had given up on dragging her - her limp limbs twisted in all the wrong directions making it impractical - and now carried her over his shoulder. "Where was a nice spot where we won't be interrupted?" he wondered aloud.
Flin stopped and dropped the female. She cried out as she hit the ground then fell silent and unmoving. Flin extracted the gray rock object that he had previously used as a weapon. It reminded him of Marcus, but the incident did not concern him any longer. Bad luck, you loser, he thought. You miss out on the prize. Flin stared at the rock intently for a few moments, then seemed satisfied.
"Now," he addressed his prostrate victim, "we have to start quickly as I think that body you borrowed is dying. You should not have provoked me to violence like that, but you had to do things the hard way." He grinned wolfishly.
She tried to rise, using the last of her strength to make it onto one elbow.
"Elizabeth," she implored him, "let Elizabeth live."
He laughed softly.
"You ungrateful fool. Do you still not understand? It is better if the other dies now! I'm doing it a favor - you should be thanking me."
"No...no, it's...it's not..." she paused as she saw something sitting behind him. Her blurred vision struggled to focus on what it was - something small and...
Wil fell back laughing despite the pain it caused, something about the whole scene just struck her as surreal. That's it, she thought, this whole thing has to be a dream. This whole 18th century thing had to be a dream - maybe if she was lucky her whole life was a fuckin' dream.
"Wake up, Willy," she giggled, "wakey-wakey."
Wil abandoned herself, her mind floating away on a sea of endorphins, regressing to some comfortable child-like state.
Flin gazed down at her as she began to giggle and mutter to herself, he cocked his head and pursed his lips - slightly confused by her reaction.
"Singular organisms, these humans," he muttered. He raised his gray rock, pointing it at her shuddering body.
"Nicey kittie," Wil babbled to herself, something unbelievably funny about the whole situation now, "Hullo widdle fluffy kitty cat, come to say hi - hi as I die." She was pleased with her clever rhyme.
"What?!"
Flin gazed down at her for a moment, frozen. Then, slowly - infinitely slowly - he turned and looked behind him. His eyes grew as wide as saucers - lines of horror etched upon his face.
"No!"
"No," he repeated, "there is an agreement!!"
Fluff leapt.
Wil heard ripping noises; terrified, agonized screams and howls of inhuman rage rent the air. Liquid splattered across her face and body.
It must be raining, she thought, dully. Tears from heaven. She laughed briefly and painfully at her own reference as something heavy thumped into the ground beside her and began to thrash around, occasionally bumping against her. Gurgling noises emanated from it - a horrific, high-pitched gurgling scream seemed to carry on forever.
The noises didn't penetrate Wil's leaden, fading consciousness - nothing registered with her except the blurry outline of the stars above her. She couldn't see them properly but she knew that they were beautiful.
The two figures lay next to each other, a study in contrasts; one small and blonde - her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight. The other was large, dark haired - the blood and viscera covering every square inch of his body, serving to make him a grotesque macabre giant. A small furry quadruped was at the man's throat, ripping and tugging. His body moved spasmodically, his hands pressed against the feline but somehow unable to resist its murderous assault.
About the only thing that these two figures had in common was that they were both dying.
Continued in Chapter 8
Post a comment