'Where are the two men you were with?' the man with the crossbow asked.
Scillara set down her pipe. 'Not here,' she said, rising and tugging at her tunic. 'Just do what you've come here to do and then leave.'
'Now that's accommodating. You, with the dog, are you going to be as nice as your friend here?'
Felisin said nothing. She had gone white.
'Never mind her,' Scillara said. 'I'm enough for all of you.'
'But maybe you ain't enough, as far as we're concerned,' the man said, smiling.
It wasn't even an ugly smile, she decided. She could do this. 'I plan on surprising you, then.'
The man handed the crossbow over to one of his comrades and unclasped the belt of his telaba. 'We'll see about that. Guthrim, if that dogthing moves, kill it.'
'It's a lot bigger than most dogs I've seen,' Guthrim replied.
'Quarrel's poisoned, remember? Black wasp.'
'Maybe I should just kill it now.'
The other man hesitated, then nodded. 'Go ahead.'
The crossbow thudded.
Greyfrog's right hand intercepted the quarrel, plucking it out of the air, then the demon studied it, and slithered out its tongue to lick the poison.
'The Seven take me!' Guthrim whispered in disbelief.
'Oh,' Scillara said to Greyfrog, 'don't make a mess of this. There's no problem here-'
'He disagrees,' Felisin said, her voice thin with fear.
'Well, convince him otherwise.' I can do this. Just like it was before. Doesn't matter, they're just men.
'I can't, Scillara.'
Guthrim was reloading the crossbow, whilst the first man and the one not holding the reins of the horses both drew scimitars.
Greyfrog bounded forward, appallingly fast, and leapt upward, mouth opening wide. That mouth clamped onto Guthrim's head. The demon's lower jaw slipped out from its hinges and the man's head disappeared.
Greyfrog's momentum and weight toppled him. Horrific crunching sounds, Guthrim's body spasming, spraying fluids, then sagging limp.
Greyfrog's jaws closed with a scraping, then snapping sound, then the demon clambered away, leaving behind a headless corpse.
The remaining three men had stared in shock during this demonstration.
But now they acted. The first one cried out, a strangled, terrorfilled sound, and rushed forward, raising his scimitar.
Spitting out a mangled, crushed mess of hair and bone, Greyfrog jumped to meet him. One hand caught the man's sword-arm, twisted hard until the elbow popped, flesh tore, and blood spurted. Another hand closed on his throat and squeezed, crushing cartilage. The man's scream never reached the air. Eyes bulging, face rushing to a shade of dark grey, tongue jutting like some macabre creature trying to climb free, he collapsed beneath the demon. A third hand held the other arm. Greyfrog used the fourth one to reach back and scratch itself.
The remaining swordsman fled to where the fourth man was already scrabbling onto his horse.
Greyfrog leapt again. A fist cracked against the back of the swordsman's head, punching the bone inward. He sprawled, weapon flying. The demon's charge caught the last man with one leg in the stirrup.
The horse shied away with a squeal, and Greyfrog dragged the man down, then bit his face.
A moment later this man's head vanished into the demon's maw as had the first one. More crunching sounds, more twitching kicks, grasping hands. Then, merciful death.
The demon spat out shattered bone still held in place by the scalp. It fell in such a way that Scillara found herself looking at the man's face – no flesh, no eyes, just the skin, puckered and bruised. She stared at it a moment longer, then forced herself to look away.
At Felisin, who had backed up as far as she could against the stone wall, knees drawn up, hands covering her eyes.
'It's done,' Scillara said. 'Felisin, it's over.'
The hands lowered, revealing an expression of terror and revulsion.
Greyfrog was dragging bodies away, round behind a mass of boulders, moving with haste. Ignoring the demon for the moment, Scillara walked over to crouch in front of Felisin. 'It would have been easier my way,' she said. 'At least a lot less messy.'
Felisin stared at her. 'He sucked out their brains.'
'I could see that.'
'Delicious, he said.'
'He's a demon, Felisin. Not a dog, not a pet. A demon.'
'Yes.' The word was whispered.
'And now we know what he can do.'
A mute nod.
'So,' Scillara said quietly, 'don't get too friendly.' She straightened, and saw Cutter and Heboric clambering down from the ridge.
