‘Stand back!’ the wasp shouted. ‘Everyone, back. He’s doing this alone.’

Ben knew that this was it. His last chance. He focused on those swollen eyes, ignoring every other ungodly feature on the creeper’s face. As mutilated as he was, he was still a man underneath his wounds.

‘Remember what I told you?’ Ben whispered, tears now racing down his cheeks. ‘It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry that they did this to you. But I need you to do something for me. Please, promise me this, and then you can kill me. I won’t stop you. You can give them what they want.’

The creeper’s smile was indifferent to his pleas, his face forever fixed in an expression conceived only to horrify. But the eyes locked with Ben’s. Through those pits in his skull that once held ears the creeper was listening.

‘Go to Alec Sparling’s. Fuck the rules. Kill him and burn his home so that nothing is left. Can you do that for me? I would have saved you if I could, but you can still save me.’

Ben may have imagined it, but the creeper seemed to nod his head, so subtly that even the ever-vigilant eyes of the wasp must have missed it.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he shouted. ‘Kill him!’

It was Ben’s turn. He took a deep breath and held his head high, exposing his neck. The creeper’s long fingers slowly wrapped around it as Ben closed his eyes. In his mind he saw his daughter for the last time, asleep and safe, dreaming of the beautiful life that lay ahead of her.

Epilogue

Alec was sat, elbows on his desk, fingers raised in a steeple, regarding the list of names narrowed down to ten potential candidates. He had spent the month compiling it, beginning initially with twenty-odd students and graduates whom he thought fitting for the role. Two would be chosen, as per usual, contacted first by email and then met in person for the sake of signing contracts and inducing in them the necessary greed to see the project through. Alec had already prepared an updated series of maps, more for his own personal pleasure than the presentation’s benefit.

Five months had passed since Mr French and Ms Coogan returned to Tír Mallacht. Not surprisingly, they hadn’t been heard from again. Had Mr French succeeded, then Alec knew the man would have come to collect what was owed to him. His absence from the front gate could only mean that the creeper’s curse remained and that Alec’s strife prevailed.

The conditions were, however, improving as they always did this time of year. The days were harvesting more light and in a few short weeks the clocks would make their jump forward, leaving all those long, dark evenings behind them. Alec’s disposition had every reason to scuttle out of the shadows.