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I have no time to ponder this impossible feat of strength. Artery's momentarily disoriented. Vein's only halfway down the stairs. I can escape — if I act quickly.
Making a sharp turn, I dive for the kitchen and the back door. Artery reads my intentions and bellows at Vein. The croc-dog leaps from the stairs and sails for my face and throat. I bring up an arm and swat her away. Vein's nails catch on my arm, rip through the material of my shirt and make three deep gouges in the flesh of my forearm.
Yelling with pain, I kick out at the demon's crocodile head. My foot hits it just beneath the tip of its snout. Vein's head snaps back and she tumbles away with a grunt.
I don't stop to check on Artery. I burst through to the kitchen and throw myself at the door. My fingers tighten on the handle. I twist — the wrong way! Reverse the movement. A click. The door opens …
… and slams shut again as Artery rams it. The force of the demon banging into the door knocks me aside. I roll out of harm's immediate way. When I sit up, Artery has recovered and is standing in front of the door, legs and arms spread, three sets of teeth glinting in the glow of the red light cast by the fire of his eyeless sockets.
I back away on my knees from the green-skinned hell-child. Stop — growling to my rear. A panicked glance. Vein closing in, blocking my retreat.
I'm caught between them.
Artery's smiling. He knows I'm finished. A cockroach topples from his head, lands on its back, rights itself. It starts to scuttle away. Artery steps on the roach and crushes it. Holds his foot up to me, so that I can see the insect's smeared remains. Laughs evilly.
A snapping sound behind me. The stench of blood and decay. Vein almost upon me. Artery hisses — he wants to join in the bloodshed, but he's wary. Won't desert his post. Better to stay and watch Vein kill me than go for the kill himself and leave the door unguarded. I sense the demon's fear of the one upstairs. He called these two his familiars — that means he's their master.
Vein butts me in the back with her leathery snout. Growls throatily. It's over. I'm finished. Dead, like Mom and Dad and …
“No!” I roar, startling the demons. My thoughts flash on the telephone smashing through the sturdy wood of the front door, and Artery and the speed with which he moved. My eyes fix on the dog flap. Much too small to fit through, but I don't think of that. I focus only on escape.
I bring my legs up. Come to a half-crouch. Propel myself at the dog flap as Vein snaps for me with her teeth. I fly through the air, faster than any human should or could. The fire in Artery's sockets flares with alarm. The demon snaps his tiny legs together. Too late! Before they close, I'm through, fingers pushing the dog flap up out of the way, arms, body and legs following. Shrieks and howls behind. But they can't harm me now. I'm flying … outside … free!
Soaring. Arms spread like wings. Exhilaration. Magic. Momentary delight. I feel invincible, like a —
Smash!
The backyard fence cuts short my flight. I hit the ground hard. Come up groaning and wheezing. Right elbow cut where I rocketed off the rough wood of the fence. Woozy. I stagger to my feet. Feel sick.
I remember the demons. My eyes snap to the dog flap. I turn to run …
… then stop. No sign of them. Ordinary night silence.
They aren't following.
I stare at the dog flap — tiny — then at my arms and legs. The three red ravines gouged out by Vein. My shirt and jeans ripped from where the demons snagged me. My left shoe missing — it must have come off m
id-flight. But otherwise I'm unharmed.
No way! Even if the dog flap had been bigger, I couldn't have dived through it at that speed without scraping myself raw. How did … ?
All questions die unvoiced as I recall the horror show of the bedroom.
“Mom,” I sob, staggering towards the back door. I pause with my hand on the handle. Almost turn it. Can't.
I get down on my knees. Cautiously poke open the dog flap. Peer into the kitchen. No demons — but the many bloody prints on the tiles are proof I didn't imagine the chase.
On my feet. Again I try to enter. Again I can't bring myself to do it. Memories too terrifying. The demons too threatening. If I could help my family, perhaps it would be different. But they're dead, all of them, and I have too much sense (or not enough courage) to risk my life for a trio of corpses.
Stepping back from the door, I stare up at the house. It looks like all the others from the outside. No webs. No blood. Normal walls and windows.
“Gret,” I mutter mindlessly. “I never said sorry for the rat guts.”
I think about that for a moment, stunned, sluggish. Then I raise my face, open my mouth, and scream.
It's a wordless scream. Pure hatred. Pure sorrow. It builds from somewhere deep within me and bursts forth with the same impossible force I summoned when lobbing the telephone at Artery and diving through the dog flap.
The glass in the windows shatters and explodes inwards, ripping curtains to shreds, littering floors with jagged, transparent shards. The glass in the houses to either side also explodes. And in the nearby cars and street lamps.
