The burning church was behind them now, along with the two other houses of worship and a number of cottages. Julianna felt the chill of the storm, the snow whipping around her face as the wind picked up, but as they neared this other fire, its heat made her feel as though the skin on her face was stretched too tight.
“What is that?” Halliwell said, his voice barely audible over the hungry roar of the blaze.
Julianna picked up her pace. Her boots slid in the slushy melting snow. To the left of the burning building was an old rock wall that ran out of the village square, the stones piled up decades-or perhaps centuries-earlier as some sort of boundary. It lined a path. In the firelight they could clearly see a cottage at the end. The little house had been destroyed recently enough that there was only a dusting of snowfall on the shattered interior, now exposed to the elements.
Fire had not been the culprit here. At first glance she thought an explosion had taken place, but then realized that much of the debris had caved inward rather than blowing outward.
Yet she spared only a moment’s thought for the cottage.
It was the carnage that drew her attention. In the diffuse daylight that filtered through the storm and the bright glare of the fire, they could easily make out motionless figures scattered on the ground, shrouded in a thin layer of fresh snowfall. Dark stains spread out from the corpses, and already a frost was beginning to form on the puddles of blood. There was something odd about the corpses, but Julianna could not focus on them long enough to determine what it was that unsettled her.
Because there was another corpse in their midst that made her breath catch in her throat. She could only stare at the creature-for she could not think of it as a man-impaled upon jagged stalagmites of ice that jutted from the ground. Thin, frozen blades punctured the creature’s leg and side, shot up through its chest and belly and skull…and wings.
Julianna could only stare. Though it had the shape of a man, its upper body and head were that of some giant bird of prey, and its wings were enormous, dark-feathered things.
“My God,” Halliwell rasped beside her. “This can’t be real. None of it.”
He started forward and knelt by the nearest corpse, brushed away the snow to find orange-and-black fur beneath, and a snout full of deadly fangs. The dead man was not a man at all, but some kind of tiger that walked like a man.
“You mean like the ice man we saw with Oliver? And the way he and the others just disappeared, like they were stepping right out of the world?” Julianna asked, staring at him. After a moment she glanced at the tiger-man again, and then at the bird-thing impaled on the ice. “You said we’d follow, wherever they went, Ted. You’ve got a whole lot of mysteries on your hands, not just with Max Bascombe’s murder and the little girl in Cottingsley, but with the other children you think are connected to this killer who’s removing their eyes. I’m having just as hard a time with this as you are, but you can’t turn back now.”
Halliwell’s expression darkened. “Who said anything about turning back? I’m not going anywhere. I just…the world isn’t supposed to be like this.”
Julianna swallowed. Her throat was dry and tight and she didn’t think it was from the fire’s heat.
“Let’s go inside,” she said.
The detective nodded and they started for the ruined cottage. As she passed the dead things scattered around her, she tried not to look too closely, but could not help herself. Some were missing limbs, at least one figure beneath that thin blanket of snow had no head, and one of the things on the ground had horns. There was even a creature that was no larger than a dog, with wings folded against its back.
Julianna hurried on.
She reached the front of the cottage. Where the door had been there was a hole, with no sign remaining of the frame. For a long moment she studied the wreckage, trying to determine how she might safely enter. In the midst of the ruined home, she saw snow-dusted legs poking out from beneath a portion of collapsed roof. Jagged, broken beams jutted out of the ruin, and Julianna thought that perhaps they had come as far as possible. Whatever they could learn about what happened to that cottage, they would have to determine from outside.
“Julianna,” Halliwell said.
She turned to see him crouched a short way back along the path and off to the left. The snow there had been disturbed, and as she walked over to join him, she saw that in addition to a small pool of frosted blood on the ground, there was a spattering that seemed more recent, even fresh.
Halliwell touched the spots of blood and lifted his fingers to show that they were smeared with red.
Since they had arrived on Canna Island she had been nearly numb. Wonder and confusion and horror had swirled in her mind, but this was the first time she had been afraid.
“One of those things…”
Halliwell nodded. He gestured to the ground and she saw that the path of broken snow-where one of these things had crawled or dragged itself on the ground-went around the side of the ruined cottage, past one of the walls that was still standing. Halliwell started to follow the trail.
“Wait. Ted, please. I don’t think we should-”
He shot her a dark look. “What did you just tell me about finding answers?”
Julianna moistened her lips. Her pulse was pounding in her temples as she nodded. “All right.”
Halliwell went around the corner of the house. Julianna followed warily, peering into the ruin of the house and looking carefully at the stone boundary wall to make certain there was nowhere for anyone to hide. But the trail continued, the broken snow sprinkled and streaked with fresh blood.
The wall went on perhaps fifty yards past the house, where it intersected with another at a tiny structure built of the same stone, with a roof of cracked and faded tiles. The little building might once have been an outhouse or some kind of storage-perhaps even a workshop-but its two small windows were cracked and covered with grime.
The heavy wooden door hung open. The trail ended there.
“Ted,” Julianna whispered.
Halliwell did not even hesitate. He went to the door, tensed as though he might jump aside if an attack was forthcoming, and flung it open. The hinges creaked loudly. Inside there was nothing but dust and shadows.
“What the hell?” Halliwell muttered, and stepped inside, glancing around to be sure there was nowhere for the wounded creature to hide.
Julianna watched him for a moment and then followed. As she stepped into the little building, she peered into each corner and then up at the ceiling. There was a third window at the back, opposite the door, and Halliwell went over to it and examined the frame and the lock.
“Whatever came in here, it didn’t get out this way,” the detective said.
“But it didn’t go out the door,” Julianna said. “So where is it?”
Halliwell looked at her, frowning. Then he inclined his head and pointed past her, to the deep shadows hidden behind the open door. Julianna held her breath. If something was back there, she had been only inches from it a moment ago.
The detective came up beside her. The two of them stood a moment and just listened. If something was in here with them, wounded and enraged, surely they would hear it breathing. But there was no sound at all.
Halliwell swung the door closed. The latch clicked shut. If the storm had turned the afternoon dark and gray, inside that little stone house, behind those grime-smeared windows, it was like midnight. It was a mistake on Halliwell’s part. If something had been there in the corner, it could have killed them both in the seconds it took their eyes to adjust.
But the corner was empty.
Julianna breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Agreed.”
She went to the door. It seemed to stick a moment, and then the latch gave and Julianna hauled it open, hinges creaking again.