Unformatted text preview: nfant cried, a tiny brown creature with curling brown hair, and a little pink mouth that could break your heart. It seemed too small to survive very long. She was delighted with it. She put me in mind at once of a little boy playing with a bug in a jar, so savage was her interest, and so disconnected was she from the fact that this fragile wailing thing was human. She shut the doors, lighted the candles, and then knelt beside the child and invited Lasher to go inside it. With a great chant she egged the daemon on: "Into its limbs; see through its eyes; speak through its mouth; live in its breath and in its heartbeat." The room seemed to swell and to contract, though of course it did not, and all that could rattle was moved, and the noise became a subtle murmuring-bottles jiggling, bells tinkling, shutters fluttering in the wind-and then this tiny baby before my eyes began to change. It coordinated its tiny limbs and the expression of its little face became malevolent or merely adultlike. It was no long...
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- Spring '10
- Lasher, Lives of the Mayfair Witches, Aunt Gifford, Bea. Mona