A portion of the upper panel fell away. The decay spread was accelerating. A powerful corrosive sprayed on the door could not have gnawed the fabric away so fast. A bone hand reached in through the gap, flaking the wood, clasping and unclasping at the open air.

‘Oh Holy Throne…’ Macks murmured.

The door began to collapse in its frame. Parts of it became smoke that boiled with electric-green sparks, motes of dust that tumbled as they burned out. Larger sections fell out whole, bursting into dust as they bounced off the armchair and hit the ground. The figure began to push its way in. They saw the green light of its stare burning from its hollow sockets. They heard the squat legs of the old, heavy chair scrape on the flagstones as it was slowly shoved out of the doorway.

Macks fumbled for her vox.

‘Nayl! Nayl!’ she yelled. ‘For Throne’s sake! Help us! The parlour! The parlour behind the kitchen! It’s going to kill us!’

The vox-channel warbled back, wordlessly.

Drusher looked around frantically. No other doors, no windows… He ran over to the hearth. The firebox was mounted in the stone chimney place, a later addition to replace the original open fire. Black iron pipework vented the flue up into the chimney itself. The chimney was blocked around the main flue with a sooty metal plate.

He tried to move the firebox, but withdrew his hands instantly with a yelp. Though the fire was dying, the metal was still hot. He kicked instead, savagely and repeatedly, trying to dislodge the firebox from the fireplace. It gradually began to shift. The chimney plate came loose at one side, spilling out clouds of choking soot, and the flue split.

Macks glanced at him.

‘What are you doing?’ she yelled.

‘The chimney,’ Drusher replied as he kept kicking furiously. He said it as if that were explanation enough. She understood his meaning.

‘We won’t fit up the chimney!’ she yelled.

‘Yes, we will!’

‘We can’t climb–’

‘Yes, we can! Help me!’

‘It won’t work, Valentin!’ she shouted.

He paused, breathing hard from the exertion.

‘The alternative is staying in this room,’ he said.

He started kicking again. The firebox shifted with a shriek of metal on stone, and sooty clouds spilled out of it.

Macks looked back at the door. The thing was nearly through. Only the chair stood in its way, blocking it.

‘Nayl!’ she yelled. ‘Assist now, for the love of Terra!’

She hoisted the riotgun and began to shoot, methodically pumping shot after shot at the thing. One round blew out part of the door frame. Another punched through the headrest of the arm chair, filling the air with clouds of white kapok. Each shot that hit the thing itself fizzled into nothing.