"Nis hoefonrice gelic tharn lige," said the wifmunuc.

"Fo hir doefolcyniges," Milly finished.

Dr. Heyd filled the 10cc syringe, watching a few droplets sparkle.

"I want his death to be relishing," the wifmunuc ordered.

"Nice and slow," Milly added, her dark nipples erecting at the thought. "Nice and slow, for her."

Dr. Heyd nodded. The pale figure on the bed seemed to tense a little, jaundiced eyes staring up, mouth propped open.

"He's served well, in his own way."

Goodbye, Josh. Dr. Heyd inserted the needle into one of the pulsing veins of Joshua Slavik's upper arm. Then he slowly depressed the plunger. Dr. Heyd inserted the needle into one of the pulsing veins of Joshua Slavik's upper arm. Then he slowly depressed the plunger.

"Wihan!" whispered the wifmunuc.

Chapter 27.

"You two! Hey!" Sergeant Byron shouted.

The figures scampered away into the woods.

"Come back here! This is the police!"

Giggling fluttered up. They'd looked like kids, hadn't they? Several tree trunks seemed pasty with some dark shine. Byron touched a trunk and his finger came away red.

Blood, he thought. he thought.

Chief Bard had dispatched him to search the woods around the edge of town, which made little sense to Byron. A lot of things didn't make much sense lately. Bard wasn't telling him much. Had he gotten a tip? It infuriated Byron that his own boss didn't trust him with confidential information. What made Bard so sure Tharp would be hiding out in the woods?

And now this...these kids. Who were they? What were they doing?

Byron delved into the thicket. Fallen brush crunched underfoot. He tried to follow the giggling, and their sounds, but the brush grew so thick in places that he could barely pa.s.s without a machete. The late-afternoon sun drew mist up from the forest's moist ground. He felt p.r.i.c.ked, perspiry, and p.i.s.sed off.

But then the thicket subsided. A trail seemed to etch a line through the woods. Byron followed it. He noticed more wet trees lining the way. Someone had painted them with something, something like blood.

Byron then stepped between a pair of gnarled oaks.

He stared down. What in G.o.d's name... What in G.o.d's name...

He'd stepped into a small dell, a clearing. Three girls stood there as if they'd been waiting for him. They were grinning.

They were also buck naked.

"Who the h.e.l.l..." But then he recognized them. Wendlyn Fost, Maedeen's daughter. Rena G.o.dwin. And the third, Josh Slavik's grandkid. What was her name? Melanie?

Byron looked around for guys. A bunch of naked girls usually meant that a bunch of naked guys were close at hand. But there were none, he saw. There was only him.

"What the h.e.l.l are you girls doing?"

They only grinned in response. They were pa.s.sing something around, smoking. Pot smokers, Pot smokers, he concluded. But this stuff didn't smell like pot at all. It smelled light, cinnamony. he concluded. But this stuff didn't smell like pot at all. It smelled light, cinnamony.

"We're waiting for you," one of them, Rena said.

Byron stared at them. They didn't seem the least bit concerned that they were standing naked in front of a police officer. He gulped, though; he couldn't help it. They were just teenagers but-Christ, he thought. Three pairs of b.r.e.a.s.t.s stared back at him, three p.u.b.es. Rena, the youngest, barely had any hair at all. The other two looked fuller, more shapely. But what were those pails on the ground? And brushes? he thought. Three pairs of b.r.e.a.s.t.s stared back at him, three p.u.b.es. Rena, the youngest, barely had any hair at all. The other two looked fuller, more shapely. But what were those pails on the ground? And brushes?

"Peow," Melanie Slavik said. Her eyes looked bright but... funny.

Then Wendlyn added, "Let's give lof."

Rena giggled.

Give lof, Byron thought. It was a slow thought, slow like blood oozing from a wound. Something was happening. Byron thought. It was a slow thought, slow like blood oozing from a wound. Something was happening.

The three faces-the three grins-seemed to reach into him, drag him down like drugs. They're kids, They're kids, he kept thinking. he kept thinking. They're just kids... I can't... They're just kids... I can't...

They converged, laying him out. His vision seemed detached; he saw only in fragments, diced glimpses. Faces hovered over him, bodies, b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The little stone pendants swayed like pendulums as they eagerly cl.u.s.tered about him, unb.u.t.toning his shirt and pants. Their giggling made him sick; soon it didn't even sound human. It sounded wet, clicking, like voracious eating.

"The Fulluht-Loc is coming..."

"The doefolmon..."

"Give lof! To the Modor!"

"Wihan!"

"Dother fo Dother!"

They had his p.e.n.i.s out, which was already erect, pulsing. Melanie ran her hands up over his chest. Wendlyn was stroking his face, suspending a big nipple over his mouth. And Rena, whose own giggles sounded m.u.f.fled, was fellating him.

This was all wrong, part of him knew. It didn't matter that they'd come on to him. They were teenagers. He could lose his job for this, even go to jail. But that part of him faded. He lay there as if staked to the ground. He couldn't move. couldn't move.

"Lots of muscles," Melanie cooed, rubbing. "He'd make a great wreccan."

"s.h.i.t on him," Wendlyn said.

"He's big," Rena stopped long enough to say. "Look!"

They giggled, appraising his p.e.n.i.s whose glans already shined wetly with a glaze of pre-ejaculatory drool.

Now Rena had his service piece out, a Colt Python. She c.o.c.ked its gridded hammer, prodded his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es with the barrel.

Byron was shivering, terrorized. He felt the cold end of the barrel poke into his s.c.r.o.t.u.m, trace his shaft.

"Don't worry, little baby," Melanie said.

"We won't shoot it off," Wendlyn promised.

She and Rena traded places. Wendlyn mounted him. "Ooo, you're right. He's real big," she commented, and inserted him into herself. Rena straddled his head, pushing the nearly hairless furrow against his lips. "Lick it, lick it," she commanded in glee, then began urinating.

Byron felt pinned down, buried in madness. Hot urine streamed against his face, into his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Wendlyn rode him ferociously, slamming her hips down against him. Both Byron's heart and his genitals felt like they would explode at the same time.

Rena climbed off. Melanie was getting something out from under a log. Wendlyn rode him faster, harder, eyes turned up.

She shuddered, then shrieked- Byron exploded into her s.e.x- As Melanie slid the sharpened cnif against his throat, cutting immediately and right to the bone.

"Wihan!" Rena celebrated.

Byron's blood spurted out of his neck precisely in time with his o.r.g.a.s.m. He died a minute or two later, when they began to slice his belly open.

Erik scouted the woods. The sun was going down. He had pretty good bearings now. He could even see the Slavik house from here. He'd need to go in soon, but he didn't dare yet. A big Fleetwood had pulled up as he watched. He didn't want to go into the house when a lot of people were there. They'd have plenty of preliminary rituals before the actual rite. That should give him enough time.

He knew the cops were onto him; no doubt Bard had found the brygorwreccan's body-they knew he was close. He went back deeper into the woods, to conceal himself until it was time.

But what was that he heard? Erik stopped, poised himself to listen. Voices, it sounded like. Quiet voices.

He followed, moving as lightly as he could. Soon he thought he detected movement, pale shapes in the darkening light.

He looked past some trees, into a dell. A girl, naked, was walking away. Two more stooped over something. It didn't take Erik long to realize that what they were stooping over was a corpse.

A cop cop, he thought. They were eviscerating him, putting certain organs into a plastic bag. The thinner girl seemed to be sawing something. This, too, did not surprise Erik. He'd seen it all before. The slender girl sawed off the cop's head and put it in the bag.

Wifhands. Younger ones. He thought he recognized them. He thought he recognized them.

Then they rose. They turned slowly, grinning. Their pendants dangled. Their white flesh was smeared with blood.

"We know you're there, Erik," the older one said.

Rena G.o.dwin giggled. "We can feel you."

The other one was the wifford's kid, Wendlyn. "Come here."

"No," Erik said. He raised the shotgun. "You b.i.t.c.hes don't have me anymore."

The two girls laughed.

"We have you. You've been blessed."

"You'll always be ours."

No... I...won't, he determined. He could feel it already, their pull on his brain, like the moon. he determined. He could feel it already, their pull on his brain, like the moon.

"Come to us, Erik," Rena said.

"The little brygorwreccan."

Their young faces beamed, the stare of their eyes sinking into his head like daggers, like cnifs.

"Come to us."

Erik stepped forward. The shotgun was charged, but he scarcely even felt it now. It felt like something he was holding in a dream.

"Let us give you fulluht. Let us make you holy again."

Kill them, he commanded himself. He tried to aim the gun, but his arms barely moved. he commanded himself. He tried to aim the gun, but his arms barely moved.

"The doefolmon is coming."

"The Fulluht-Loc."

"You've come back to be with us. We welcome you, Erik. We will take you back into the cirice."

No, pounded the thought like hammer to stone. pounded the thought like hammer to stone. I'll kill myself first. I'll kill myself first.

He would, he knew he would. Anything to be free of them. They were so strong against his will, much stronger than before.

They began to come forward. Wendlyn outstretched her hand, smiling softly. Rena came up behind her.

Kill them, he demanded of himself. he demanded of himself. Kill them before they- Kill them before they- "Little peow. Kneel-"

-change, he thought. he thought.

Erik squeezed his eyes shut. His mind felt released from a fetter. His forearms shot up, brought the shotgun to bear.

"No!" Rena shrieked.

His finger contracted. The shotgun jumped behind a great flash and concussion: ba-BAM! ba-BAM!

The round socked a hole into Wendlyn's throat. Blood flew out of her like thin, flailing tentacles. Rena, screaming, flew at him with a small glinting aesc.

He racked another round and fired. The hand holding the spike flew off the end of her arm. He cycled the shotgun once more, raised it to her face.

Her face...

His teeth clacked shut.

The third round of 12-gauge exploded in her face. Her head blew apart in wheeling, wet chunks.

Gunsmoke shifted up like a ghost. It tinged in his nostrils. Before they change, Before they change, his thoughts continued to tick. His face felt like a flat plate of stone when he looked down at the two naked forms. Their dark blood pumped slowly into the soil. his thoughts continued to tick. His face felt like a flat plate of stone when he looked down at the two naked forms. Their dark blood pumped slowly into the soil.