When they reached Hod, Verity initially thought that there was some kind of festival going on in the little town, some foreign thing with black puppets, and she nearly blundered into the clearing. Then she realised suddenly what it was, and she gasped, and scrambled off the road, into the grey forest, seeking cover in the undergrowth.

The things were standing at the centre of the town. They were visible above the little huts, their heads towering over the roofs, dark grey segmented necks gleaming oily rainbows in the noon sun. In the daylight they were all hard lines, and their carnivorous teeth were suddenly visible when they yawned. They muttered impatiently, animal noises that could be profane speech.

She tried not to panic; she reached into her bag to get her charms, hands shaking, hoping this would be enough for when they rushed towards her; but they didn't move. Instead, someone shouted out from amongst them.

'Father Hooper! Goody Fletcher! You're back! Come and speak with us. You'll come to no harm.'

Unlike Verity, the priest hadn't left the road. Instead, he was standing, holding an iron double circle, the symbol of his religion, out in front of him.

'I'm not afraid, devils,' he shouted, although his shaking voice said otherwise.

'I'm sure you're not, father,' replied the voice. 'Now, come and speak like civilised people. Bring the girl with the charms too. That bush can't be comfortable to sit in.'

The priest glanced at Hope, and Verity. Hope was grim-faced but resolute. Verity, again, considered her options. The symbol of the twin brother gods must do something, otherwise the chapel would have been destroyed, so maybe she'd be safe if she stayed near the priest. She remembered how quickly the things moved; if she ran, they would catch her. She didn't have a lot of choice. She kept a charm in her left hand, and tried not to break it from clutching it too hard.

The priest nodded, silently, grimly, and lead the way forward. They walked through the town, picking their way between the little huts, the creatures' hungry eyes tracking them as they walked. The townsfolk where nowhere to be seen. Verity imagined them hiding in the chapel, praying.

There was a little open area in the centre of the town, a rough circle of trampled mud where, in better times, the people of Hod would meet; there would be markets, or fairs, or performances. Standing there, seemingly unconcerned by the hungry, angular creatures, was a man.

Or at least, so Verity initially thought. It looked like a man with with a bone-pale face, dark grey robes, and a dark grey walking stick. But, as she neared it, she realised that it was no man. Its clothes gleamed like the creatures' carapaces. Its stick was not a separate object, but actually a growth from a pale lump on his left arm; there was no hand clutching it, just a strange, swollen joint. When it smiled, its teeth where white and sharp. One of the things mumbled something and shifted where it stood; the man-shaped thing laughed and spoke back in the same ugly speech.

'What do you want, fiend?' asked the priest, metal symbol held in front of him. His hands shook, and the sweat was beading on his forehead.

'Fiend?' said the thing, smiling a grin that showed a lot of teeth. 'Fiend. Do you hear that, Vella? I think that means I won that wager.'

One of the creatures barked in savage amusement.

'No, my name isn't "Fiend". You may call me Gull. Come, Father Hooper. Let's talk of pleasant things.'

Gull lifted its arm, and beckoned them over. Its robes moved strangely, because they were not robes, just folds of flesh, coloured the same as the rest of it. As Verity walked closer, she saw that its white face was like pale cloth stitched over a grey head, a mask that hid the thing's real features, but was actually sewn into its flesh.

Father Hooper, Hope, and Verity stopped two yards away from Gull and its retinue.

'What do you want, devil?' shouted the priest, the fear heavy in his voice.

'I want to talk about debts,' said Gull. 'Debts that you owe and are here to be claimed. My associates here are hungry, and flesh with no obligation on it will only fill their bellies so much. You made a promise, and I will see that fulfilled.'

'I made no promise,' yelled the priest. 'Begone! By the power of the god twins...'

'Your toddler gods are of no concern to me,' said Gull calmly. 'And, yes, your soul is not forfeit, Father Hooper. You made no such oath. But someone here did, and you speak for them. We want our blood, as promised. Then, you do whatever you want with your pathetic, short lives. Until then... Well, I think it's quite easy, isn't it?'

'How do we pay?' shouted Hope.

'This one is clever. Leave the payment alive but bound, right here. We will collect at sundown. Any other questions?'

'We will never...' began the priest, but the things howled, and drowned him out.

'That wasn't a question, Father,' said Gull. 'Goodbye, mortals.'

Then, suddenly, he wasn't there. He collapsed into a heap of dark grey flesh that writhed and splashed; it burrowed into the ground, tendrils waving as they submerged. The tall creatures shrieked; they reared and shook, and then they galloped into the pale grey forest, those long, angular legs propelling them at an incredible pace.