Solomon Kane by Ramsey Campbell Page B

Samuel,” his mother urged.
    The boy looked abashed, and Edward said “We should pray.”
    Samuel shuffled onto his knees at once, setting an example to someone younger than himself. Meredith and Katherine let go of the child to fold their hands. Katherine nodded at the child’s idle ones, but the girl let them sprawl apart. “I’m tired,” she complained.
    “Take just a few moments to pray,” Katherine said.
    “I don’t want to pray!” The child’s voice was suddenly close to a screech. “I’m so tired,” she whined, and her face sagged until it seemed in danger of losing its shape with exhaustion.
    “Prayer will bring you peace, child,” Edward insisted, “and then you will sleep.”
    “Please,” the girl cried, and appealed to Meredith. “You can see I’m tired, can’t you?”
    “Of course you must be,” Meredith said and made to stand up. “Let’s find a place for you to sleep, you poor thing.”
    As the girl smiled and hugged her tight, the flames sprang high and then crouched low. They awakened prancing shadows among the trees before they drew the darkness closer all around the people in the glade. Kane ignored it, because he was in no doubt where the blackest darkness lay. “Edward,” he said, “I think the child should wear your cross for protection tonight. Would you mind?”
    “Of course not.” Edward had seemed defeated by the girl’s refusal to pray, but now he was certain again. He lifted the plain wooden cross on its cord from around his neck. “Here,” he said.
    Kane took the cord in his fist and paced over to the girl, who peered up at him and huddled against Meredith. “Here, child,” he said. “Wear this tonight.”
    The flames leapt, and shadows dodged among the trees before growing very still. The silhouette of the cross swelled up and shrank as it settled on Meredith. The girl was gripping Meredith’s left hand in both of hers. “I don’t want to,” she said.
    Kane stooped towards her, dangling the cross. Its shadow almost found her before she sidled away, still clutching Meredith’s hand. “It will help to keep you safe,” Kane said.
    “No,” the child whined and turned to Meredith. “I don’t want to,” she pleaded.
    “Solomon, stop it,” Meredith protested. “Can’t you see she’s frightened?”
    Kane glimpsed doubt in Edward’s eyes – perhaps in his father’s too. “Who would fear a cross?” Kane said.
    Without warning, the girl moved. She snatched one hand away from Meredith’s, and for that instant Kane could have thought he was mistaken – that the child was about to take the cross. Instead she turned Meredith’s hand palm upwards and swiftly traced a sign on it with her fingertips. Meredith flinched and pulled her hand free. “What did you do?” she cried in shock and pain.
    The girl reared up and hissed like a snake in her ear. “It’s you he wants,” she whispered so shrilly that the sound seemed to reach the edge of the glade.
    As Meredith recoiled, Kane dropped the cross into the child’s open hand. A convulsion seized the small body, and the girl writhed away from him with a snarl. Her eyes glared wildly, no longer just with the reflection from the fire. As she tried to dart past Kane he grabbed her, still holding the cross by its cord. “This is her!” he shouted.“This is the witch!”
    His captive squirmed like a reptile in his grasp, and in moments he was no longer holding a child. The plump face lengthened and relinquished its colour, turning grey and rough as ancient stone. The eyes grew large and red-rimmed, and the nose sharpened to a cruel beak above a widened sneering mouth. The body he was struggling to restrain seemed to be composed mostly of muscle and bone. Its long nails clawed at Kane’s neck and were reaching for his eyes before he managed to pinion the arms. Even then he could not match its inhuman strength. It tore itself free and leapt away from him, into the air. “The Devil is waiting for you,