Snake Eyes

Cleaver, still holding his knife and panting, hadn’t moved. From his angle, he couldn’t see what was scaring the villagers but when the demon’s body began to move he started back, raising his hands up to protect himself and dropping into a half crouch. The great wings of the beast, slack all this time, began to beat against the wall of the church. The wind they made would have been welcome in that heat if it hadn’t signaled life in such a monster. Dust and stone chips flew from the wall where the wing bones made contact. Cleaver must have thought it was the demonic equivalent of a beheaded chicken’s twitches and flutters and that it would settle down. He didn’t move far enough away and one of the wingtips caught him a solid blow on the shoulder. He flew like a straw doll thrown by a spoilt child and landed ten strides away on his face in the dirt. His knife landed harmlessly beside him.

The demon’s body bent in half, it snapped the ropes restraining its arms and its hooked fingers reached for the chain that held its ankles. Its attempts were clumsy and ill-coordinated because it couldn’t see what it was doing. When the hands did take hold of the chain, the talons flicked against the rusted links, cleaving them like twigs. The metallic snap of sheared iron was followed by the sound of the demon’s body collapsing into a headless heap at the front door of the church.

The impact dislodged the head and it bounced down the rest of the steps with a dizzy look on its face until it came to rest on its ear in the dust. The crowd of villagers dispersed still farther, some of them taking shelter in their homes, others peering around the walls of cottages or trading posts. A few froze where they were, caught in the open expanse of dirt that served as the village gathering place and market square.

The body of the demon tried to stand. With a clawed foot standing on one of its wings, it tripped onto its chest, tearing a hole in its flight membrane and rolled into the dirt. The head grimaced with frustration and a hint of embarrassment. Its lips moved but without air from its lungs the vocal chords were useless. The body pushed itself up from the ground again and this time stood swaying in the middle of the square. I’m certain the head would have been turning from one direction to another to assess the situation, had it still been attached. Instead, the headless thing walked carefully a few steps with its arms out in front of it like a shepherd looking for black sheep on a winter’s midnight.

It didn’t find its head. It found Cleaver, still stunned from the impact and in a good deal of pain. It found him because it kicked him as it walked, rolling him over a few times. Then the demon’s body crouched down and waved its flattened palms around until it found him trying to crawl away. I saw the smile come back to the demon’s face as its body stood up and brought Cleaver to the space where the head should have been. I thought the body believed it had found its head because it pushed Cleaver into the space above its shoulders over and over again. That was before I noticed what the head was doing: chomping—the teeth clashing against each other. The demon was trying to eat Cleaver, but luckily for him it was impossible. After some more fruitless chewing, the demon, its head looking truly disgusted with itself and its body looking about as useful as one of Rickett and Wiggery’s cabbages, let Cleaver drop to the ground.

I’d seen enough by that stage. I ran forward towards the bottom of the church steps while everyone else was still either backing or running away. I heard Velvet, the sweet little blossom that she is, screaming my name and begging me to stay away. I darted behind the demon’s body and, careful not to let my fingers get near the mouth, I snatched up the demon’s head, fought my way to Velvet and dragged both of them away. The head was about twice the size of my own and far heavier than I’d expected it to be. After a few yards I was exhausted and sweating cupfuls.

“Here, Velvet, take hold of one of these horns. We’ve got to keep the head hidden from the body and then we’ll all be safe.”

“The things I do for you, Delly Duke, no other woman has ever endured.”

“Carrying a demon’s head must make a nice change then,” said I, panting.

Velvet took hold of that horn like the good woman I’ve always known her to be. She even managed a laugh at the jumble-headedness of what we were doing.

“Where are we going to put it?” asked she.

“I know the perfect place,” said I.

Prattle’s Courtyard

No one was keen to chase after us considering what we were carrying, so we arrived at the priest’s lodge several minutes before anyone else. I suppose most of the village were still watching the demon’s body stagger around in the square. But Velvet and I had the thinking end of the demon and that was dangerous part.