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 made so carefully of maple, polished as smooth as amber. Awful, a moment later, to see the pretty windows light up suddenly and gaze at him like eyes, at first surprised and then beseeching.

He didn't stir a muscle. He didn't raise a finger to defend this child of his. Not even when the beast inside began torturing it, sticking its flames like fingers through its windows, and a moment later forcing through a great long arm that wound itself close around the house, meeting another arm from the back, completely encircling it, in a horrible embrace. Or were the arms snakes? There was a statue of a writhing human being Felix had seen once somewhere, all tangled up with a snake like that. He turned away. The smoke choked him and made his eyes smart.

Later, gazing down at the little feathery pile of ashes, Felix stooped and scooped up a handful of them. They were as warm as a child's body just dead! They'd cool almost as quick, too, he guessed. He dropped the ashes, wiped his hands on his trousers and set to work with a shovel to cover the dead thing up.

Afterward he wiped his hands again and smelled of them. Gosh! The stuff had gotten into the pores! It was worse than blood.