right as the signal had told him to. At first he saw nothing, then he noticed a slight disturbance in the white spread of mist on the street below. He shifted his body slightly and felt the reassuring press of a long-knife in its sheath as he watched the mist drift like a lonely spectre.
Something moved in the street, something smaller than a human. Against the mist it was hard to tell what, but Shir had been right to warn him. There was no sound coming from that direction, no pad of feet or panting that might indicate a stray dog. Cotto eased himself back against the peak of the roof and slowly slipped a hand behind his back, reaching for the small crossbow stowed there. With practised fingers he unshipped the weapon and brought it in front of him, ratcheted the string back and locked it into place without taking his eyes off the curls of mist below. It wasn’t a powerful weapon, but if that was a fox in the street, it would be enough to kill it and send any demon inhabiting its body fleeing.
He eased a bolt into the trace and paused, weapon ready to aim. Through the mist he saw a small shape, slinking down the side of a building in parallel with them. Not a rat, though demons could use them too, but smaller than a dog for certain. He raised the bow and looked for a shot, drawing in shallow breaths while Shir waited silently behind.
Nothing happened. The fox, or whatever it was, seemed to melt into the night. The layer of mist went undisturbed on the ground ; the street frozen like a sheet of ice. After two dozen breaths, Cotto lowered the bow and turned to Shir.
‘Did you see it ?’ he whispered.
The small man with greyish skin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Cotto frowned and waited a heartbeat longer before his senses screamed in panic. Light burst all around him and a clap of thunder seemed to burst in his head as a fox screamed just behind Shir. The smaller man jerked and juddered, looking pleadingly at Cotto for help, but he was already scrambling out of the way. Cotto fired the crossbow and the bolt cut a trail of white through the night sky as a narrow vulpine head appeared over the crest of the roof. He hurled the spent bow at it, but the fox dodged with unnatural speed and shrieked again.
This time he felt it, the demon touch they had all been warned about. It drove into his ears like a stiletto. Searing pain and a cacophony of sound filled his head, causing Cotto to lurch on the shallow slope of the roof. Somehow he found his hand around his long-knife and he tore it from the sheath, slashing wildly towards the fox but catching nothing. At the back of his mind, against the mess of noise crashing on his ears, came a second sound, the long deep note of a tolling bell.
Cotto gasped with relief and fought for balance, swinging his knife wildly as he sought purchase underfoot. The clatter of the demon touch dimmed, eclipsed by that sonorous peal rising from inside him – another Blessing, this one buried deep within his mind to combat the chattering voices of demons. The fox vanished from sight but Cotto kept moving, desperately seeking an escape route. Shir was still slumped against the roof, his jaw working as though still trying to warn Cotto, but his limbs were frozen in place.
Venom
, Cotto realised,
he’s gone
.
He ran to the edge of the roof, intent on jumping to the grand arch. Before he could leap, something struck him in the side and spun him around. Cotto was thrown from his feet, sliding and scrambling down the shallow roof. Knife abandoned, he flailed for purchase and after a moment of panic found the ornate cornice at the edge of the roof. The muscles of his wrist screamed as his weight pressed down on it, but he managed to fight the pain and hold himself long enough to twist and plant a foot.
He looked up and saw a nightmare staring back. Four angular limbs held it steady at the peak of the roof while a mass of eyes fluttered and twitched madly on its misshapen head.
Something moved in the street, something smaller than a human. Against the mist it was hard to tell what, but Shir had been right to warn him. There was no sound coming from that direction, no pad of feet or panting that might indicate a stray dog. Cotto eased himself back against the peak of the roof and slowly slipped a hand behind his back, reaching for the small crossbow stowed there. With practised fingers he unshipped the weapon and brought it in front of him, ratcheted the string back and locked it into place without taking his eyes off the curls of mist below. It wasn’t a powerful weapon, but if that was a fox in the street, it would be enough to kill it and send any demon inhabiting its body fleeing.
He eased a bolt into the trace and paused, weapon ready to aim. Through the mist he saw a small shape, slinking down the side of a building in parallel with them. Not a rat, though demons could use them too, but smaller than a dog for certain. He raised the bow and looked for a shot, drawing in shallow breaths while Shir waited silently behind.
Nothing happened. The fox, or whatever it was, seemed to melt into the night. The layer of mist went undisturbed on the ground ; the street frozen like a sheet of ice. After two dozen breaths, Cotto lowered the bow and turned to Shir.
‘Did you see it ?’ he whispered.
The small man with greyish skin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Cotto frowned and waited a heartbeat longer before his senses screamed in panic. Light burst all around him and a clap of thunder seemed to burst in his head as a fox screamed just behind Shir. The smaller man jerked and juddered, looking pleadingly at Cotto for help, but he was already scrambling out of the way. Cotto fired the crossbow and the bolt cut a trail of white through the night sky as a narrow vulpine head appeared over the crest of the roof. He hurled the spent bow at it, but the fox dodged with unnatural speed and shrieked again.
This time he felt it, the demon touch they had all been warned about. It drove into his ears like a stiletto. Searing pain and a cacophony of sound filled his head, causing Cotto to lurch on the shallow slope of the roof. Somehow he found his hand around his long-knife and he tore it from the sheath, slashing wildly towards the fox but catching nothing. At the back of his mind, against the mess of noise crashing on his ears, came a second sound, the long deep note of a tolling bell.
Cotto gasped with relief and fought for balance, swinging his knife wildly as he sought purchase underfoot. The clatter of the demon touch dimmed, eclipsed by that sonorous peal rising from inside him – another Blessing, this one buried deep within his mind to combat the chattering voices of demons. The fox vanished from sight but Cotto kept moving, desperately seeking an escape route. Shir was still slumped against the roof, his jaw working as though still trying to warn Cotto, but his limbs were frozen in place.
Venom
, Cotto realised,
he’s gone
.
He ran to the edge of the roof, intent on jumping to the grand arch. Before he could leap, something struck him in the side and spun him around. Cotto was thrown from his feet, sliding and scrambling down the shallow roof. Knife abandoned, he flailed for purchase and after a moment of panic found the ornate cornice at the edge of the roof. The muscles of his wrist screamed as his weight pressed down on it, but he managed to fight the pain and hold himself long enough to twist and plant a foot.
He looked up and saw a nightmare staring back. Four angular limbs held it steady at the peak of the roof while a mass of eyes fluttered and twitched madly on its misshapen head.
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