The flames inside the enormous cast-iron and brick fireplace—older than the best-preserved churches in the world—crackled as they consumed the thick, oil-soaked logs of black wood.
'Ha ha ha, I see that old Baba Yaga has decided not to attend your sumptuous feast this year either, Pale Man.'
The raucous voice and scathing words came from the enormous, hunchbacked creature seated at one end of the long wooden table; if a human were to see her, the first thought that would cross their mind would be: 'That's a goat.'
An enormous goat sitting like an ancient and important noble, with her thick thighs crossed and a hoof raised in the air.
With large horns curving backwards, a deep colour resembling coal mined from the depths of the earth, its long, clawed fingers held firmly and tightly a gleaming crystal goblet, filled with a golden wine that filled the room with a sweet aroma.
"Maybe she's at home again, counting all the spoons in Russia!!!"
A voice replied from the other side of the table, where sat a gigantic, bipedal rat with multiple arms and heads.
"Or she's busy counting the fingers of the dead!!"
The next head of the enormous rat continued, waving its long whiskers so close to the table that at any moment it could have licked the wood; the Roi des Rats, or King of Rats, possessed three heads coexisting in a single body.
"Black Phillip, what's happened to this year's feast..!!"
These were the first words spoken in a whisper, in a voice so ancient and weary that it was surprising the speaker was still alive. That creature, with skin so pale and folds of skin dripping like the melted wax that bathed the bodies of the candles illuminating the ancestral hall, the lair of the pale man.
"What do you mean?..."
Black Phillip, as the enormous goat with long black fur called himself, replied after downing his wine in a single gulp.
"It was your turn this year, Black Philip!!!"
"The right to get what we would consume was yours!!!."
"What kind of flesh feast is this, without the damn flesh?"
The pale man screamed furiously, accompanied by a groan like that of a pig; he turned his bald head and spread his ten bony fingers, his blood-red eyes embedded in his palms judging the behaviour of the third immortal being seated at the large table.
Immortals of the underworld, beings who neither age nor decay with the passing of centuries and millennia, immune to the very forces that bind and govern human life.
"Eeek!!"
A shriek of terror and formless fear interrupted the pale man's furious words; it was the voice of a little girl—or, to be precise, the voice of Mia.
That scream was her young body's reaction to the nightmarish scene before her: a man with no facial features and eyes in his hands, a huge four-armed rat, and the very symbol of evil itself, the billy goat with fur as soft and silky as cashmere from the finest farms in Italy.
The King of Rats did not wait a second; he sprang to his feet with such speed that he hurled his carved wooden throne and wine-red-stained fur cushions against the hard ceramic floor.
He raced across the hall on all fours and seized the owner of the childish voice with his long, hairy rat fingers.
"I knew Black Phillip couldn't be trusted; he'd do the same as he did one hundred and fifty years ago—ignore his responsibility!!!"
The oldest head of the Roi des Rats, wearing a small, exquisite golden crown upon its head, declared this in a loud, commanding voice; when it spoke, its other two heads lowered their chins and remained silent.
This head was called Ruuttus, of the Black Death, the oldest head, who had started the bubonic plague in the heart of Crimea; his horrifying act had filled the bellies of thousands of his descendants for decades, sating his hunger with the thousands of rotting corpses that flooded the streets of Europe.
As for Ruuttus, he sated his infinite hunger by having his minions stuff a few children into linen sacks every day and carry them deep into his underground chambers.
The pale man stood up and pointed his right hand right in front of Black Phillip's face, spreading his fingers as wide as he could.
And with the red eye in his left hand, he looked at Ruuttus.
"I planted a seed in their minds, a dream of illusions and desires, convincing these poor, fragile souls to come and become part of our bodies… to be devoured with delight!!!"
Ruuttus's long fingers, with their black nails, gripped Cassie's neck and lifted her off the ground, just as cooks lift geese before snapping their necks and draining their blood.
Mia suffered the same fate, only with Ruuttus's left hand.
"My servants merely had to whisper sweet words whilst they slept, and they did the rest all by themselves!!!"
"This one's particularly fat," said Ruuttus as he brought Ellie close to his nose. "Her fat will help her meat brown beautifully!"
Ruuttus's long, hairless tail held Ellie's small body by the legs; she had fainted long ago, which was to be expected of someone who still feared the dark and dared not look under the bed at night.
The pale man, with his veiny, reddened skin, let out a high-pitched shriek of pleasure; it had been years since any child had opened one of his doors; he had been imprisoned on his throne for years, guarding his feast of desserts and delicacies.
And now four had fallen into his black, pointed fingers.
"Leave..." Jean shouted with all the courage she could muster, "my friends alone."
She ran out of her hiding place, behind a stone pillar attached to the high ceiling, and rushed towards Ruuttus, biting his tail; her small teeth, which had only just replaced her milk teeth, did their utmost to tear into the flesh of Ruuttus's tail.
"One bite will make him let go of Ellie; I'll grab her and we'll get out of this hell together," thought Jean; in fairy tales, young heroines outwitted villains with clever tricks without relying on physical strength or superhuman abilities.
(I can do it too.)
Jean Duvall thought with conviction; it was a pity that her bite wasn't enough to make Ruuttus feel a thing, not even discomfort, let alone any pain.
"There you are, four were my prey..." Mid-sentence, Ruuttus suddenly spat a great deal of black blood all over the floor and groaned in pain. "Aaaah!!!"
"It'll be a nuisance having to clean my nails afterwards."
William said with annoyance in his voice; his sharp black claws, as thin as a cicada's wing, pierced Ruuttus's chest, cutting through the flesh and tearing through his ribs.
"Your physiology is different from humans', but I should have pierced your heart."
The body of the Rat King remained standing, though its central head, known as Ruuttus, had eyes of a milky white colour; the cells of its corneas had died completely.
A 'Stich ins Herz', a stab to the heart perfectly executed with the fingers of his hands; William's sharp nails, with his spear-shaped hand, cut unhindered through Ruuttus's tough hide.
Executing a spear technique from Speerfechten, the German art of spear fencing, was only possible thanks to William's incredible physique as a Skinchanger.
William withdrew his hand from Ruuttus's body, who then fell to his knees, his claws and tail still firmly clamped around the necks and legs of Mia, Cassie and Ellie.
*Splatter!!!*
Red blood splattered everywhere as William's sharp claws were swung like a blade, severing Ruuttus's hands from the bones of his arms.
Before little Mia and Cassie hit the ground, William caught them both in one arm.
After cutting off Ruuttus's thick, pink tail, William hoisted the three girls under his arm as though he were carrying three sacks of potatoes.
"First things first: I'm going to get the three of you out of here."
William began to walk slowly down the long, curved corridor from which he had first arrived, making his way between the slender pillars that stretched from floor to ceiling.
"William!!"
Jena was finally able to react to what was happening before her; it was the same golden-haired boy who had saved her deep in the Forest, the only one who believed her when she told him what had happened to her, when she was kidnapped by the Trasgo.
"Hurry up, Jean, I don't know how long they'll stay still."
Jean turned to look at the pale man and the enormous humanoid goat; both remained still in their wooden chairs, their gaze fixed on them. The pale man had anger in his eyes, but Black Phillip had interest in his.