Francesca

I GLIDE THROUGH THE THRONG of people, toward the cliffs, beaming radiantly all the while but I'm feeling sort of jittery, a little... blurry. Almost pleasantly so, actually. A little like I've just had a hit of something except I've barely had anything beyond a few sips of organic cider—oh, and those little pick-me-ups in the apartment beforehand—because Francesca's body is her temple yadayada what-fucking-ever. Whoopsie, I seem to be talking in the third person again. But there you go, we all contain multitudes!

My phone buzzes in my hand. I look at the screen. Owen. Finally.

Well, I don't actually have time right now. I need to see what's down there on the beach. Besides, he's been perfectly happy to ignore my calls. It might be no bad thing to give him a taste of his own medicine.

As I pass among the guests I notice more strange behavior: a man lying full-length on the ground, just staring up at the starlit sky, a woman plucking the leaves from her headdress and... is she eating them? Something utterly bizarre is going on. Oh—a nasty shock goes through me. Another masked face, staring right at me. Then dissolving into the melee.

I move on. Let my feet carry me forward. Breathe through the rising bubble of dread. All is well.

There!

At the other side of the crowd, appearing behind two dancing women. A dark-cloaked form, stark between their white dresses. Then seeming to vanish like smoke into the shadows.

I shut my eyes. It must be the stress of the moment. They're not real, they're not real...

"Look at that!" I hear a man just ahead of me shout. Several guests are clustered with him at the cliff edge, peering down at the beach. I move toward them. I can just about make out something down there. Something monstrously large—the top of it almost level with the clifftop. But I can't see it properly: it's so dark down there on the beach. A cloud has drifted across the moon and, more than that, my eyes seem a little unfocused. Sweat from this unnatural heat, perhaps. There's a chattering, cackling sound all around. Where is it coming from? It's horrible. And it's so close by. I press my hands over my ears but I can still hear it. Is it inside my head?

There's a streak of light on the horizon, far out to sea. Lightning, a long way off. But the air is dry. So heavy, so hot. But dry. Another small spasm of light briefly illuminates more of the shape. I see a distinct head. A body. What look like vast outstretched arms. No... wings. The cackling sound grows louder still. I feel every hair on my head begin to lift away from my scalp as the air prickles with static. It must be some electrical disturbance: the same force that's causing the lightning.

The chattering grows to a roar. It's almost unbearable. But the others around me don't seem to be affected by it. They're all looking down at the vile thing in wonder, pointing, making noises of excitement and awe.

The moon slides out from behind the clouds and I suddenly see the whole hideous shape of it. My breath catches in my throat. It's three times the height of a man, built on a completely different scale to the other sculptures: the graceful, delicate ones I commissioned. This is a hulking colossus. The cowled head with its dark eye-sockets, the menacing hooked beak, the vast black outstretched wings almost as wide as it is tall. There's a grotesque movement to it: as I watch, the surface seems to quiver and convulse. I look more closely and see that thousands of feathers are woven into the very structure.

I can smell it too: an acrid stink that catches right at the back of the throat.

"Is there someone down there?" a woman close by says to her partner. "Look!"

I think she's right. I glimpse a shadowy figure near the base, a tiny spark. Then a rush of flame and it goes up in one soft whomp. The guests around me gasp. The whole thing must have been drenched in lighter fluid.

The heat from it almost knocks me over. Sparks and burning debris fill the air, flying everywhere, even up the clifftop... falling over the guests. Now, as the flames rush up inside it, the eyes appear to glow with a concentrated malevolence. It seems to be staring straight at me.