Casino Infernale by Simon R. Green

someone when they’re on their own.”
    “But we have to find him!” said Troy.
    “He could be anywhere, by now,” said Coll. “But you’re right, we can’t leave him to the mercy of the White Horse. Or the house . . . so, we split into two groups again, and this time we stick together. Troy, stay close to me. Molly, don’t let Shaman out of your sight. Whoever catches up with Morrison first shouts out and stays put. Molly, follow the house perimeter, see if you can get a glimpse of whatever’s outside.”
    He led Troy off down the hallway. She stuck so close to him she was practically hiding in his coat pocket. Molly and I looked at each other, shrugged pretty much simultaneously, and set off.
    •   •   •
    Monkton Manse was a really big house. It took a long time for us to work our way round the perimeter, staring cautiously out of each window in turn. Darkness had fallen, and the light from the house didn’t penetrate far into the shadows outside. It seemed to me that a really big White Horse ought to show up clearly, but I couldn’t see anything. We checked every room we passed, just in case the Horse had sneaked in, somehow, but there was no sign of it anywhere. I’d never felt comfortable in Monkton Manse, and now I was starting to jump at every moving shadow or sudden noise. If we really were under siege from a living god, I wanted my armour. But I couldn’t call on it without betraying my true identity. I wasn’t sure that really mattered any more, but I was reluctant to throw aside my mission until I was sure there really was a living Horse god on the prowl around Monkton Manse.
    The dead body had been real enough, but anyone can fake horse sounds. It bothered me that I hadn’t seen anything.
    “If it is the White Horse, can you take it down with your armour?” said Molly, casually.
    “Oh, sure,” I said. “I’d bet the strange matter in my armour against anything with four legs and hooves. Maybe we could offer it some sugar lumps.”
    “A concept, made manifest, and then buried for centuries because its own priests grew frightened of what they’d created,” said Molly. “What do you want to bet, Shaman, that when the Horse woke up, it woke up angry?”
    “But how powerful can it be after being asleep for so long?” I said. “That must have weakened it.”
    “Unless,” said Molly, “it’s been quietly rebuilding its strength, all this time. I’m more concerned with its state of mind. Finally released from its prison, after so many years, and immediately someone tries to break it to their will, to make it their slave. . . .”
    I looked at her steadily. “You were there, at the meeting, after they called it up. How much of that do you remember, now?”
    “Still only bits and pieces.” Molly scowled fiercely. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t there at the Working. My parents would never have allowed that . . . I can’t believe I forgot so much!”
    “You were in shock,” I said. “You didn’t want to remember.”
    “My past isn’t what I thought it was,” said Molly. “I’m not what I thought I was.”
    “Yes, you are,” I said firmly. “You’re the wild witch, the laughter in the woods, kicking arse in the name of the good and the true. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
    And then we both looked round sharply as we heard a scream. It sounded like a man, facing something truly horrible, and then the sound broke off, and stopped. Molly and I were already off and running. It didn’t take us long to find Joe Morrison, lying dead on the rucked-up, bloody carpeting. Torn and broken, his ruined flesh was stamped with hoof-marks. There was no sign of Troy or Coll anywhere. I checked the body, shook my head at Molly, and then studied the surroundings carefully.
    “Odd,” I said. “I don’t see any hoof-marks in the carpeting, the whole length of this corridor. Or in the spilled blood around the body. Nothing to show anything else was ever