“Aye, but now is not the time.”
“It never is with you,” said Harry.
“Harry,” Lucas whispered over his shoulder, “now would be a good time to sweep up the trash.”
Harry didn’t understand at first, until, finally, a light bulb went off in his head. He rammed the broom forwards, aiming for the hooded man’s head. The blow missed by a mile and that seemed impossible. The intended victim had gone from motionless stone to dodging the blow in an unearthly blur of speed; a glowing wisp of light that didn’t actually seem to move so much as simply disappear and reappear somewhere else.
Harry cursed out loud. “Damn it! I missed.”
“No, you didn’t,” said Lucas. “Get your bloody arse moving.”
Harry realised that his attacker’s evasion had left a gap in the wall of hooded bodies. The three of them ran, stumbling through the deep snow and almost having to claw themselves along. Despite their early lack of movement, the hooded men were now giving chase, screeching and wailing as they did. As one got close, Harry swung out with the broom. It blinked out of existence and reappeared out of harm’s way just as his brethren had before. Harry didn’t mind if the swings were making contact or not, they were warding off the danger regardless.
As he clambered through the snow, Harry came side by side with Lucas. He turned and looked at him. “What the hell are they, Lucas?”
Lucas looked back and smiled. “Angels.” He said it casually, as if the explanation was not completely insane.
Harry almost fell, just about managing to right himself with his next steps. “Angels?”
“Like I said, Harry Boy. Now’s not the time.”
The three of them continued making their way forward, not really knowing where they were heading other than away from danger. As Harry looked back, he saw that they were no longer being pursued. The ‘Angels’ were apparently in no rush to get their ‘sinner’. But, despite the lack of pursuit coming from behind, Harry could clearly make out something ahead of him.”
“Something’s up ahead,” said Kath.
Harry nodded. “I know, I can see. Ready with the salt?”
“Yes. Ready with broom?”
The three of them slowed down (not that they were making particularly great speed anyway). The shape in the distance began to come clearer into view. It was a person, heading towards them quickly.
Kath stated the obvious. “They’re coming right at us.”
Harry focused as much as he was able to in the blustering snow. “It’s…”
“Nigel!” Kath shouted the word gleefully. “Are we glad to see you!”
Nigel came up to them, huffing and puffing. Harry noticed that the man had dried blood on his clothes as well as terrible burns on the left side of his face. He looked like something out of a horror film.
“Are you...okay?” Harry asked him.
Nigel looked feral, like an injured fox. When he answered, his words were slurred. “I’m fwine. Jush hash an asshident.”
Lucas stepped forward placed a hand on the Nigel’s shoulder. “You don’t look fine, fella. In fact you sound worse than a chorus of drunks. And that head wound don’t look none too pretty. We should get you back to the pub.”
Nigel seemed dismayed by the suggestion and lashed out. “Get sh’fuck offsh me.”
Harry didn’t like the way Nigel was acting. “What happened to you? Is Steph okay?”
Nigel’s face scrunched up in a snarl at the mention of her name. Harry tried to understand why. Then he saw the bloody knife in the man’s hand and wondered why he hadn’t spotted it sooner. Harry’s eyes widened. “Did you hurt her?” Harry went to approach Nigel, but the man raised the knife at him.
Lucas put his hands out in front of him placatingly. “Whoa, whoa, there, fella. We just want to know the lass is safe.”
Nigel spat blood into the snow and began backing away as he spoke. “You tell that bitch, I’ll be back to finish what I started. I’ll slice her fucking fingers off and keep them in my truck with the other pathetic sluts I’ve killed.”
Harry’s entire body contorted with rage as he realised what the man’s words meant. He began to wonder whether that knife in Nigel’s hand had been used on Steph, and if Damien had been innocent all along. Harry found both questions too hard to think about. “I’m going to kill you.”
Nigel continued backing away, holding the knife out in front of him in defence. Harry went to get after him, but Lucas stopped him. “No need, Harry Boy. Look!”
Harry looked past Nigel and saw the shapes behind him. Gathering in the distance was a group of hounds. Nigel was walking directly at them. Harry relaxed and waited for the inevitable to happen.
It took about three minutes for Nigel to realise he’d been surrounded. The things attacked him as one, enveloping him as they had done Jerry. Harry watched with grim satisfaction as Nigel swiped impotently with his flick knife, managing to take a chunk or two of flesh from one hound, but failing to keep away the other dozen. Although it was hard to see past the writing bodies of fur, Harry could clearly make out Nigel’s intestines being fought over in a macabre tug of war. But once the grim satisfaction begun to wane, the scene merely made Harry feel sick. He turned away and continued on into the snow, back towards The Trumpet.
Back towards Steph.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Despite the three of them being huddled together, Jess felt no warmer. Damien managed to get the fire going again by setting fire to some of the surplus duvets. They wouldn’t burn for long, but they were better than nothing. Now the three of them lay shivering beneath a dozen sheets and blankets, trying to hold on to as much warmth as possible.