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The green man threw his hands in the air. He turned to the other three who had accompanied his opponent from the farm. “Come on, together we can boil his crazy brain and send him back to the beyond. Or maybe you can ignore them pleading to be let back into the world,” he added significantly.

The three men exchanged an uneasy glance.

“You may indeed best me,” the man in the blue jacket said. “But if I have to return to that accursed nowhere, I will take at least one of you with me, possibly more. So come then, who will it be?”

“I don’t need any of this,” one of the three muttered. He pushed his way past the other two and started to walk down the road towards the town.

The man in the blue jacket gave the remaining two an inquiring look. Both of them shook their heads and set off down the road.

“What is it with you?” the green man shouted furiously.

“I believe that is a rhetorical question.”

“Okay, so who the hell are you?”

For a moment his handsome face faltered in its resolution. Pain burned in his eyes. “They called me Titreano, once,” he whispered.

“Okay, Titreano. It’s your party. For now. But when Quinn Dexter catches up with you, it’s going to be the morning after like you’ve never fucking believed.”

He turned on a heel and stalked off along the road.

Carmitha finally remembered to breathe again. “OhmyGod!” Her knees gave out, and she sat down fast. “I thought I was dead.”

Titreano smiled graciously. “You would not have been killed. What they bring is something far worse.”

“Like what ?”

“Possession.”

She gave him a long, mistrustful stare. “And you’re one of them.”

“To my shame, my lady, I am.”

Carmitha didn’t know what the hell to believe.

“Please, sir?” Genevieve asked. “What should we do now? Where can Louise and I go?”

Louise patted Gen’s hands in caution. This Titreano was one of the devils after all, no matter how friendly he appeared to be.

“I do not know this place,” Titreano said. “But I would advise against yonder town.”

“We know that,” Genevieve said spryly.

Titreano smiled up at her. “Indeed you do. And what is your name, little one?”

“Genevieve. And this is my sister, Louise. We’re Kavanaghs, you know.”

Carmitha groaned and rolled her eyes. “Christ, that’s all I need right now,” she mumbled.

Louise gave her a puzzled frown.

“I regret I have not heard of your family,” Titreano said in what sounded like sincere regret. “But from your pride, I venture it is a great one.”

“We own a lot of Kesteven between us,” Genevieve said. She was beginning to like this man. He’d stood up to the horrors, and he was polite. Not many grown-ups were polite to her, they never seemed to have the time to talk at all. He was very well spoken, too.

“Kesteven?” Titreano said. “Now that is a name I do know. I believe that it is an area of Lincolnshire. Am I correct?”

“Back on Earth, yes,” Louise said.

“Back on Earth,” Titreano repeated incredulously. He glanced over at Duke, then switched to Duchess. “Exactly what is this world?”

“Norfolk. It’s an English-ethnic planet.”

“The majority,” Carmitha said.

Louise frowned again. What ever was wrong with the Romany woman?

Titreano closed his eyes, as if he felt some deep pain. “I sailed upon oceans, and I thought no challenge could be greater,” he said faintly. “And now men sail the void between stars. Oh, how I remember them. The constellations burning so bright at night. How could I ever have known? God’s creation has a majesty which lays men bare at His feet.”

“You were a sailor?” Louise asked uncertainly.

“Yes, my lady Louise. I had the honour to serve my King thus.”

“King? There’s no royal family in the Earth’s English state any more.”

Titreano slowly opened his eyes, revealing only sadness. “No King?”

“No. But our Mountbatten family are descended from British royalty. The Prince guards our constitution.”

“So nobility has not yet been overthrown by darkness. Ah well, I should be content.”

“How come you didn’t know about old England?” Genevieve asked. “I mean, you knew about Kesteven being a part of it.”

“What year is this, little one?”

Genevieve considered protesting about being called “little one,” but he didn’t seem to mean it in a nasty way. “Year 102 since settlement. But those are Norfolk years; they’re four Earth years long. So back on Earth it’s 2611.”

“Twenty-six hundred and eleven years since Our Lord was born,” Titreano said in awe. “Dear Heaven. So long? Though the torment I endured felt as if it were eternal.”

“What torment?” Genevieve asked with innocent curiosity.

“The torment all us damned souls face after they die, little one.”

Genevieve’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming a wide O.

“You’ve been dead?” Louise asked, not believing a word of it.

“Yes, Lady Louise. I was dead, for over eight hundred years.”

“That’s what you meant by possession?” Carmitha said.

“Yes, my lady,” he said gravely.

Carmitha pinched the top of her nose, wrinkling her brow. “And how, exactly, did you come back?”

“I do not know, except a way was opened into this body’s heart.”

“You mean that’s not your body?”

“No. This is a mortal man by the name of Eamon Goodwin, though I now wear my own form above his. I hear him crying inside me.” He fixed Carmitha with a steady eye. “That is why the others pursue you. There are millions of souls lost in the torment of beyond. All seek living bodies so they may breathe again.”

“Us?” Genevieve squeaked.

“Yes, little one. You. I’m sorry.”

“Look, this is all very interesting,” Carmitha said. “Complete drivel, but interesting. However, just in case you haven’t caught hold, right now we are drowning in deep shit. I don’t know what you freaks really are, possessed zombies or something nice and simple like xenocs with psychic powers. But when that green bastard reaches Colsterworth he’s going to be coming back with a lot of friends. I’ve got to unhitch my horse, and we three”—her gesture took in the sisters—“have got to be long gone.” She arched an eyebrow. “Right, Miss Kavanagh?”

“Yes.” Louise nodded.

Titreano glanced at the passive cob, then the stallion. “If you are serious in your intent, you should travel together in your caravan. None of you has a saddle, and this mighty beast has the look of Hercules about him. I’ll wager he can maintain a steady pace for many hours.”

“Brilliant,” Carmitha snorted. She hopped down onto the hard-packed dirt of the road and slapped the side of her ruined caravan. “We’ll just wait here for a wheelwright to come along, shall we?”

Titreano smiled. He walked over to the ditch where the wheel had fallen in.

Carmitha’s next acidic phrase died unspoken as he righted the wheel and pushed it (one-handed!) up out of the ditch, treating it as though it were a child’s hoop. The wheel was five feet in diameter, and made of good, heavy tythorn wood. Three strong men would struggle to lift it between them.

“My God.” She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful or horrified at such a demonstration. If all of them were like him, then hope had deserted Norfolk long ago.

Titreano reached the caravan and bent down.

“You’re not going to . . .”

He lifted it by the front corner—two, three feet off the road. Carmitha watched as the broken axle slowly straightened itself. The splintered fracture in the middle blurred, then for a brief moment the wood appeared to run like a liquid. It solidified. And the axle was whole again.

Titreano jemmied the wheel back onto the bearing.

“What are you?” Carmitha whispered weakly.

“I have already explained, my lady,” Titreano said. “What I can never do is bring you to believe what I am. That must come of its own accord, as God wills.”