But if what Vince suspected was true, the terrible results of his sacrifice might become known to them all.

He started walking down towards the river, turning things over in his mind. The pombero had stolen the rucksack for Mallian, of that much he was sure. He also knew that the Nephilim still did not have every relic required to perform the spell that might give him a hold over Grace. That was because Vince had stolen one of them back in the world and buried it where no one would ever find it again.

A small relic, like a knot of dried flesh.

Like a tongue.

* * *

“Your slave is dead,” Vince said.

“I have no slaves. Come here, scratch my nose, would you?”

“And have you bite my hand off?”

“I told you. Human flesh tastes of shit.”

It was growing dark, one of the Fold’s intermittent nights drawing close. It had been some time since the last one. Vince slept when he was tired, not according to the time of day or night it might be. He did not feel tired now. He felt afraid.

“You killed him,” Vince said.

“Me?” Mallian sounded almost convincing. “I haven’t moved from here in many months, maybe years. How do you think I could kill someone?”

“You talked him into it. Told him what you wanted.”

“Are you on about that rucksack again?”

Vince didn’t answer. The more information he gave, the less chance he’d have of easing the truth out of the Nephilim.

“You’re dangerous,” he said instead. “You always have been, and I’d be a fool if I thought otherwise.”

“Then be a fool, Vince. I’m finished. Look at me. Have you really looked at me, since you’ve been coming here to talk with me? I’m weakening, fading. I’m nothing like I was. My age is catching up with me.”

“And everything you’ve done.”

“Yes, everything I’ve done. It all comes home to roost. I’ve led a life longer than you can possibly comprehend, seen things you could never understand. Done things that would make you rejoice, and other things that would make you vomit and faint. But I’m close to the end. Near enough that I can sense the darkness when I close my eyes. It’s gathering around me, ready to close in and take me when I’m tired enough, or starving enough. Or when I give in.”

“You’ll never give in,” Vince said. “Don’t try to persuade me otherwise.”

“And don’t pretend to know my mind,” Mallian said, his voice low and quiet. Vince shivered. It was like hearing a rumble through the ground, the threat of doom approaching. Of all the Kin he had met, he must never pretend that Mallian was anything approaching human.