Every Foul Spirit
His long, tapered blade began to crisscross over her skin then, and around the mouth; unintelligible noises bubbled from her moving lips.
“Go on, witch,” he croaked through a rippling larynx, readjusting his form as she dimmed and extinguished beneath him, “be with the others.” The girl went silent, became still in the blood-tinged runoff. “Go, and deviate.”Soon, the chanting resumed low.
Some of the wandering spiders managed to find their way inside her as he worked on her in the secluded drainage ditch, seeking warmth and refuge, and moist dark secret places.
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