The Sword of Feimhin by Frank P. Ryan Page A

front of the vestibule before the arched main doors. The illuminating candle, in a candlestick identical to that held by what he took to be a West Indian woman, was perched atop the coffin lid. On thefloor, by the priest’s polished black shoes, was an ornate brass bucket containing a brass-handled brush. There were no funereal flowers bedecking the coffin, just a splatter of brightly reflective droplets of water glistening over the lightwood top.
    â€˜Father Touhey?’
    â€˜Indeed, that’s me. But who are you?’
    Mark could hardly contain his relief. ‘I’m Mark Grimstone. I believe that Bridey will have sent a message. You have something for me?’
    â€˜Hush,’ he said, with a finger to his lips.
    â€˜De Razzamatazzers is ganging up outside.’
    Mark turned his attention from the white-haired priest to the woman ‘The what?’
    Penny answered, ‘Razzers!’’
    â€˜Henriette, my housekeeper – she fears they’re trying to break in.’
    â€˜Razzers?’
    â€˜Dey all juiced up.’
    â€˜Juiced – you mean they’re drugged?’
    â€˜Juiced up on de spirit. Dey hammerin’ off an’ on, all day. Dey sense it like we hear de music – de wave.’
    â€˜You’re Henriette?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Mark was about to ask her about what kind of wave the Razzamatazzers sensed when he sensed it for himself through his oraculum. Something was signalling, sending a message that wasn’t audible through his normal hearing.When he attempted to probe it, it became a deafening scream so uncomfortable he instinctively clamped his hands over his ears.
    He glanced at Nan.
You hear it too?
    Her wide eyes were answer enough.
    Nan addressed him, urgently, mind-to-mind.
    
    
    
    But before he could speak to Henriette, there was a thunderous hammering against the main doors. It sounded as if somebody was using a sledgehammer against the Victorian box lock.
    â€˜O Lord – dey breakin’ in!’ Henriette immediately put out her candle flame between her moistened finger and thumb. She was reaching out towards the second candle on the coffin, but it was too late. There was a violent crack and the lock crashed inwards onto the tiled floor. The twin doors sundered, throwing splinters of oak into the darkened hallway of the church. The old priest had fallen against the coffin, causing it to slip on its trestles, so it teetered on the brink of plunging to the floor. Henriette moved quickly, dropping the candlestick and steadying the tottering construction with one hand, while supporting the ageing priest with the other.
    The interior was flooded with light as the headlights of a vehicle shone directly in through the breach. Father Touhey froze. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened,staring past Mark towards the shattered door. When Mark spun round he saw a swarm of flying monsters pour in through the gaping entrance to invade the church.
    â€˜Grimlings!’ the girl exclaimed.
    Mark spoke quickly, urgently, ‘Father Touhey, Henriette, Penny – all three of you get behind me and Nan. Make yourself into the smallest possible target.’
    â€˜But you’ll be killed,’ said Penny.
    â€˜I’m not sure we’re killable.’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜Makes three of us.’
    Father Touhey muttered a prayer but Mark wasn’t listening. He was studying the swarm more closely. The flying monsters looked like chimeras of mammals and insects. As big as tawny owls, they had transparent wings almost a foot in span. Their heads were obscenely human-like, with faces that reminded him of goblins. Their eyes were amber and glowing, glaringly fierce, and the jaws looked lethal, crowded with piranha-like teeth.
    He heard Penny’s warning. ‘Grimlings bite!’
    As if with one mind, Mark and Nan grabbed a heavy brass