'Jakabok!'
And then:
'Save me!'
It was too little too late. I stepped back and let her fall face-down into the vat where the bones boiled. It was so immense and so weighed down by its contents that nothing would overturn it. Not her toppling in, or her flailing wildly as her long, bloodied linen apron grazed the flames and was instantly caught alight.
I stayed, of course, to drink it all in despite my approaching pursuers. I wasn't going to miss one twitch or shudder from this Lilith: the fire between her legs turning to steam as she lost control of her bladder; the bone- busied waters tossing her around as she tried vainly, of course, to clamber back out; the mouth-watering smell of her hands frying against the sides of the vat; the wet, tearing sound that came when her poxy father finally reached her and her palms tore off as he pulled her out of the vat.
Oh, the sight of her! My Caroline, my once beautiful Caroline! Just as I had gone from love to hatred in a matter of moments so had she gone just as quickly from perfection to a thing like myself, only worthy of repugnance. The Pox carried her a little distance from the fire, and set her down to extinguish the remains of her apron. It took him but a moment; then he slid his arm beneath her and lifted her up. As he did so the grey oversteamed meat of her brow, cheeks, nose, and lips slid off the gleaming young bone beneath, leaving only her eyes boiled blind in their lidless sockets.
So now you know about my love affair. It was brief and bitter, and all the better for that.
Love is a lie; love of every shape and size, except perhaps the love of an infant for its mother. That's real. At least until the milk dries up.
Thus I was delivered from the love of beautiful women, and traveled all the quicker for its unloading. I had no trouble losing Hacker and Shamit as they attempted to pursue me into the depths of the forest. I was lighthearted, or rather lighter by the measure of two hearts, mine and hers, and I ran so easily through the thicket, bounding up the trunks of the antediluvian trees and jumping from branch to branch, tree to tree, that I quickly lost my confused pursuers completely.
The sensible thing would have been for me to get out of the area there and then, under cover of darkness. But I couldn't do that. I'd heard too many tantalizing hints about what was going to happen back down on Joshua's field come the dawn. Cawley had talked about the burning of some Archbishop, along with, if I'd understood him correctly, a number of sodomitic animals, who were apparently found culpable under holy law for passively allowing these perversions to be performed upon them. A spectacle such as this would surely draw a sizable crowd of Humankind, amongst whose numbers I hoped I might hide while I educated myself in their ways.
I passed the remainder of the night in a tree some distance from the grove where I'd met poor Caroline. I lay along the length of a branch and was lulled to sleep by the creak of the ancient limbs and the soft murmur of the wind in the leaves. I was wakened by the rattle and boom of drums. I leapt down from my bed, taking a moment to thank the tree for its hospitality by vigorously pissing on and poisoning those small upstarts in its vicinity that might have competed for the older tree's share of earth. Then I followed the sound of the drumming out to the fringes of the forest. As the trees thinned I found that I had emerged close to the edge of a boulder-strewn slope, at the bottom of which lay a broad muddy field lit by a purple-grey light that steadily brightened, as though summoned by the vigorous tattoo of the drums. Shortly, the sun appeared, and I saw that there were great numbers of people gathered in the field below, many rising from the misty ground where they'd passed the night like Lazarus' kin, stretching, yawning, scratching, and turning up their faces to the radiant sky.
I couldn't go amongst them yet, of course. Not in my naked state. They'd see the curious configuration of my feet and, more importantly, my tails. I'd be in trouble. But with some mud to cover my feet and some simple garments to wear, I could pass, I hoped, for any human who'd been burned as calamitously as I. So all I needed in order to venture down onto the field and have my first encounter with Humankind were clothes.
I used the gloom of the cloudy dawn to cautiously descend the slope, moving from boulder to boulder as I got closer to the field itself. As I slid out of sight behind a stone twice my height and three times my length were I to have lain in its shadow, I discovered that the place had already been claimed by not one, but two people. They were lying down, but they weren't interested in assessing the length of the rock.
They were young, these two; young enough to be ready for love at such an early hour, and indifferent to the discomforts of their hiding place: the littered stone shards, the dew-wet grass.
Though I was crouched no more than three strides from where they lay, neither the girl, who to judge by her fine clothes was a good thief or came of a rich family, or her lover, who was either a bad thief or came of a poor family, noticed me. They were too busy removing all outward sign of fortune and family, and, equal in their nakedness, played that blissful game of matching their bodies, part to part.
They quickly found what fit best. Their laughter gave way to whispers and solemnity, as though this common deed had something holy in it; that in marrying their flesh this way they were performing some holy rite.
Their passion riled me, especially when I was obliged to view it so soon after the fiasco with Caroline. That said, I want to tell you I had no intention of killing them. I just wanted the youth's clothes, to cover the evidence of my own ancestry. But they were using his clothes and hers to lie more comfortably on the uneven ground, and it was quickly apparent that they would not be finished any time soon. If I wanted the clothes I would have to pull them out from under the pair.
I crept towards them, hands outstretched, hoping, I swear, that I'd be able to snatch his clothes out from under them while they were glued together, and be away before —
Never mind. The point is, it didn't happen the way I planned it. Nothing ever has now that I think of it. Nothing in my whole existence has come out the way I wanted it to.
The girl, idiot beauty that she was, whispered something in the youth's ear, and they rolled over, away from the boulder behind which all three of us were concealed, and off the very clothes I wanted. I didn't give them time to roll back, but reached out and very slowly, so as not to draw their attention, began to pull them towards me. At that moment the girl did as she'd doubtless whispered she wanted to do. She rolled them over again and clambered on top of him, sitting on his loins to take her pleasure. In doing so her gaze found me, and she opened her mouth to scream, only to remember before the sound emerged that she was in hiding here.
Luckily she had her heroic partner beneath her, and sensing through the girl's sudden tightening of her muscles that all was not well he opened his eyes and looked directly at me.
Even then, if I could have snatched the youth's clothes and made my escape I would have done so. But no. Nothing in my life has been easy and this little business was no exception. The heroic fool — no doubt seeking to win the girl's undying devotion — slid out from under her and reached for the knife lying amongst his clothes.
'Don't!' I said.
I did, I swear on all things unholy, I warned him with that one word.
He didn't listen, of course. He was doing this in full sight of his lady-love. He had to be brave, whatever the cost.
He pulled the knife from its sheath. It was a stubby little thing, like his bobbing manhood.
Even then I said, 'There's no need to fight. I just want your shirt and pants.'
'Well, you can't have them.'
'Be careful, Martin,' the girl said, looking at me now. 'He's not human.'
'Yes, he is,' the lover said, jabbing at me with his knife. 'He's just burned is all.'
'No, Martin! Look! He's got tails! He's got two tails!'
Apparently the hero had missed this detail, so I helped him by raising them up to either side of my head, their points directed at him.
'Jesus protect me,' he said, and before his courage failed him he lunged at me.
Much to my surprise, he actually sank that little knife of his into my chest, all the way to the hilt, then twisted it as he drew it out. It pained me and I cried out, which only made him laugh.
That was too much. The knife I could take, even when he turned it. But to laugh? At me? Oh no. That marked an unforgivable level of insult. I reached out and caught hold of the blade, seizing it with all my strength. Even though it was slick with my blood, I only had to twist it sharply in his grip and I had it from him, easy as tying a knot
