“Well,” says Witch as the Fury reaches for another corpse, “That explains some things anyway.”
“It explains nothing.” Lizard studies the scene, coldly fascinated. “It… makes some things obvious. But putting metal in a dead body doesn't make it walk around afterwards.”
Witch is silent. Her augmented gaze finally falls on the Fury’s pale, hateful face.
“It’s face…” She can't believe what she sees. It has to be imagination, the poor light playing tricks…
So it’s real. The spidery limbs, the seething, silver jelly of the body…
And the child’s face. Smooth, obsidian eyed porcelain.
Twisted with unending rage.