It all seemed to happen at once—a pop, a cloud of smoke, and a sizzling explosion of red light. The force of the blast slammed the Fetch into the wall as I was thrown back a few steps in the opposite direction. I saw it hang there for a moment, like some strange decoration, before it slid to the floor and onto its face. With great care, I approached it, waiting to see if it was feigning death. The limpness of the singed hair convinced me it was safe to touch. Using the end of the gun, I flipped it over to reveal a blackened, tattered visage of melted green flesh.

I turned to look at Anotine and found her sitting straight up, her face pale, her mouth open wide. "Quickly," I said, "get dressed. The plan has begun." Only then did I remember that I had intended to kill the Fetch all along.

By the time the others had arrived, we were both clothed and had dragged the lifeless head into Anotine's laboratory.

They entered by way of the bedroom, and I heard the Doctor call to us.

"In here" I yelled.

They came down the hallway with Nunnly in the lead and Brisden bringing up the rear.

As they entered the lab, Nunnly said to me, "Brisden and I have been thinking this over, Cley, and we believe …" He never finished his statement, though, because at that moment I stepped away from the table I stood in front of, allowing them to get a look at what I was working on. Nunnly took a step back. The Doctor immediately brought his hand to his beard, and Brisden said, "Fa," closed his eyes, and turned his face away.

"There's no going back," said Anotine, casting a sick glance at the mutilated remains on the table.

"I should say not," said Nunnly, now stepping closer to study it.

"You know what this means, Cley," said the Doctor.

I nodded.

"The Delicate," said Brisden.

"It's the only way we can get inside the tower," I said.

"Do you think we'll be invited after this?" asked Nunnly.

"That's the part I'm unclear about," I said. "All I know is that the doors have to open for us to get inside."

The Doctor stepped closer and peered down at the head. "How did you stop it?" he asked.

"The signal gun you left the other night was a better weapon than I imagined," I said.

"What is that in your hand?" asked Nunnly, pointing to the Lady Claw.

"An instrument for cutting through flesh and bone. It's called a scalpel."

"Do you think it's necessary to dice the little beast up?" asked Brisden, grimacing at the sight of it as he moved alongside the others.

"I want to get inside the head," I told them. "I need to determine what it is that allowed the Fetch to see into each of your minds."

"Cley thinks there might be something there that will help him to discover the antidote," said Anotine.

"Stand back a little" I said. With this, I lifted the scalpel and began to cut away at the long strands of hair. My facility with the tool came back to me all at once, and I found a kind of pleasure in wielding it again. The Physiognomy also tried to pry its way back into my consciousness along with my appreciation of the grace of the instrument. It was all I could do to suppress the tenets of that crackpot philosophy, which slithered in mind-speech and flashing images through my thoughts.

I had shaved nearly the entire head when I stopped for a moment and looked up to see the others staring with expressions of astonishment at my work.

Brisden broke from his trance, and said, "Things have certainly grown more complex in the past few minutes."

"They're going to get absolutely intricate," I said, and went back to playing the barber.

I made the cut along the middle of the bald cranium with confidence, and the tight skin parted to release a viscous yellow fluid. It seeped out of the opening, pooled on the table, and dripped to the floor in minute wet explosions as steady as the ticking of a clock. Laying the scalpel down, I worked the fingers of both hands into the crease I had made and pulled back the flaps of flesh on either side to reveal the skull.

"There's nothing shy about Gey," Nunnly said.

"Doctor, how long would you estimate we have before the Delicate comes seeking revenge?" I asked.

"All we can go by is what happened to Professor Claudio. With this in mind, I believe we have a day." He turned to Anotine, and asked, "Was it the next day that it came after him?"

She nodded, and added, "But that is the only instance; a poor estimate based on one piece of evidence."

"I suppose we will have to trust to it," I said. "Now let's see what the Fetch is made of."

I tapped the scalpel against the yellow cap that lay exposed and was surprised to find that it was not hard like bone. There was a certain pliancy to it as if it were crafted from a kind of sturdy rubber. The Lady Claw dug into the substance with little resistance, and when I pulled the instrument in a circular motion to create a portal, it sailed smoothly along as though I were cutting nothing tougher than the callused flesh of a sailor's hand.

When this was finished, I used the thin edge of the scalpel as a lever and pried open the plug, which encompassed an area a little larger than the size of my fist. As soon as this piece was removed an acrid stench rose out of the cavity and filled the lab.

I was nearly overcome by the aroma, which smelled sharply of chemicals and shit. It was necessary to take a step back and let it dissipate before continuing. The others, having never experienced the scent of the latter, groaned audibly. An-otine's nostrils flared, she gagged, and I could see a ripple of fear run through her. Nunnly reached for his handkerchief. Brisden and the Doctor stepped briskly over to the open window and took in draughts of fresh air.

When the odor had lessened, I asked Anotine to light one of the candles and bring it over so that I could look into the dark hole I had opened. As she prepared this, the others returned and gathered around me. She brought the candle, and I leaned down, holding it as close to my face as possible so that its glow would illuminate the cavity.

At first glance there appeared to be nothing but space and the inner walls of the skull. "Harrow's hindquarters" I thought, "the damn thing is empty." I looked again, and then I saw a small shiny protuberance glint in the light from the flame. Giving Brisden the candle, I reached with my opposite hand inside the head. Up near the front, just behind where the eyes were positioned in the face, I felt a small sac filled with fluid. Further tactile investigation told me it was connected by two stalks to an area of smooth flesh. I grabbed these cartilaginous tubes tightly with my fingers and yanked on them. They came free with an audible snap, and I drew the entire assemblage of tissue out into the daylight.

Holding the organ in the palm of my hand, I looked down at it, amazed that this little bag of green liquid could have animated the Fetch.

"Not much of a prize for all that work," said Brisden.

"Is there nothing else?" asked the Doctor.

"Just this," I said.

"I don't understand how the thing worked," said Nunnly.

"Surely that can't be enough of an organic engine to power a flying head."

"Unless that gas that was released was the source of its energy," said the Doctor.

"And what would that be?" asked Nunnly.

"Dreams, perhaps," said the Doctor.

"Noxious ones at that," said Brisden.

"Another delivery," said Anotine, referring to what I had told her about my midwifing duties. She smiled at me as though proud of my accomplishment.

"For that, I'm going to have my essence sucked out through my ear?" asked Brisden, pointing with his pinky finger.

"It may be more valuable than you think," I said. Now that the initial puzzlement had worn off, I realized that it might just be what I had been looking for. The fact that it had been attached to the back of the eyes led me to believe that it had something to do with the Fetch's ability to probe the inhabitants and objects of the mnemonic world. Of course, it was all so much dangerous conjecture, but I wondered if perhaps it was the key to releasing Below's secret knowledge from those symbolic forms in which it was hidden.