This. He started to run, not away across the broad shoulder of the summit, but towards Stanislav. He jumped, flinging his arms high, and brought them down again as hard as he possibly could, plunging the blade deep into the central mass. He couldn’t stop himself from falling on to him, turning his head at the last moment but landing square on.

It was like hitting a balloon full of jelly. Soft, yielding, somehow firm and rubbery. It was vile, and even more so as mouths opened up under him to suck him in, tentacles wrapped around him to feed him into the waiting maws.

Dalip let go of the knife, only to find his arm held tight. He kicked hard, then harder still, and the ropes of flesh gripped hardest of all. Eyes flickered at him, reflecting the bright sky. He needed to get away, and yet there was no way of doing so, no way that Mary could intervene without getting trapped herself.

For a moment, one hand was free, and he gouged at an eye. It tried to sink back into the skin, and his fingers followed it, dragging it up from the depths, pulling it away until it was only attached by a thin cord. That seemed to cause Stanislav discomfort, enough that he was lifted clear, then thrown like a discarded toy.

Towards the cliff. He bounced and rattled. The sheer drop behind him yawned, and he teetered, winded, his legs sliding over the edge as he scrabbled for purchase.

The clouds overhead were almost white.

Mary ran to him, reached over his head to grab his boilersuit at the neck, tried to pull him back on to solid ground. That wasn’t what he wanted. Instead, he reached up and fastened his hand on her arm. Her eyes flashed wide and she started to rear away, but he wasn’t going to let go.

Stanislav was right behind her, tentacles flailing across the rocks, dragging himself closer. He was almost within reach, his bright eyes fixed on her legs.

Dalip leaned backwards, planted his feet firmly on the cliff edge, and pushed.

He and Mary tumbled out into space together, just as the lightning spat down, drawn by the irresistible lure of the knife.

31

31

They fell. Mary, blind and deaf from the sudden explosion of light, felt the wind start to tear at her and the one point of contact with Dalip falter and slip away. She could blink, and that was all. Her skirts tangled into her legs and her hair covered her face. She was bent like a bow, hands and feet above her, spine curved so far she could almost touch her toes.

The ground, when it eventually came, would be very hard. Even the storm-tossed surface of the lake would be enough to shatter her into a thousand pieces.

Then she remembered.