the urge to tear him limb from bloody limb. Scrannel was, for lack of a better word, a pet. His mother was a troll, to whom his father was nothing more than a drunken blur one dark and stormy night, and so Scrannel himself was a crossbreed, a mongrel, an oddity. He had milky-white eyes that were set too far apart, he had no nose to speak of and a mouth wide enough to swallow a decent-sized rock. He had tiny teeth and high cheekbones and only the barest hint of a chin, upon which he was trying to grow a beard. He had been trying to grow this beard for the past three years. His chin looked vaguely fluffy, but that was as far as it had got.
Scrannel was an idiot of a creature, who actually enjoyed living in a ditch, and the only reason Annis had not eaten him was because he tasted dreadful. The first time they had met she’d torn off a chunk of his leg, chewed it for a few moments before spitting it out. She’d spent the rest of the night being sick in a stream, and Scrannel had stuck around, eventually offering to hold her hair back while she vomited.
That had been twelve years ago, and he still hadn’t left.
“I have a bit of news,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I think I was followed.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“I can’t be sure now,” he said hurriedly. “But there was a woman, and she had blonde hair and a long coat, and I’ve never seen her before, and she looked, you know, out of place.”
“And why do you think she was following you?”
“Because when I ran away, she ran after me.”
Annis could feel her skin starting to turn blue.
Scrannel spoke quickly. “I might be mistaken, of course. Could just be coincidence. She might be a jogger, or something.”
“A jogger?” Annis growled. “In a long coat? At night?”
“Carrying a sword.”
“What?”
“I’m fairly certain she was carrying a sword.”
Annis felt her fingernails grow long. “That doesn’t sound like a jogger, now, does it?”
Scrannel pondered, then shook his head. “To be honest, no, it doesn’t. And now that I think about it, I don’t think she was even wearing jogging shoes. What kind of jogger doesn’t wear jogging shoes?”
“You’re an idiot,” Annis snarled.
His armour clanked when he nodded.
There was movement at the cave mouth. Scrannel scuttled away, and a young woman with tousled blonde hair, wearing a long coat over brown leather trousers and a brown leather tunic, stepped into the cave holding a sword in her right hand.
“That’s her,” Scrannel said unhelpfully.
The woman was holding a coil of thick rope in her other hand, which she let drop into the human remains at her feet.
“Nice place,” she muttered, almost to herself. She had a London accent. Annis liked Londoners. They tasted great.
Scrannel let out a battle cry, then he ran forward. The young woman didn’t use her sword, as Annis expected. Instead, she swayed to one side and slapped Scrannel on the back as he hurtled by. He ran into the cave wall.
Annis could feel her teeth start to lengthen in her mouth. “Who are you?”
“Tanith,” the young woman said. “Tanith Low.”
Scrannel charged at her again and she kicked out, slamming her boot heel into the piece of tin wrapped around his knee. He hit the ground with his insignificant chin.
Tanith ignored him as he rolled around in pain. “And I’m just guessing here, so don’t be offended if I get this wrong, but you must be Black Annis. I’ve heard an awful lot about you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes indeedy. The blue skin, the nails, the cave littered with the bones of your victims. It’s all very impressive.”
Annis’s jaw dislocated with a loud pop, and her mouth hung open – impossibly wide – to accommodate her growing, jagged teeth.
“Why, granny,” Tanith said with a smile, “what big teeth you have.”
“You don’t know everything about me,” Annis said. “If you did, you wouldn’t have dared set foot in my home.”
Tanith shrugged. “I know that you’re under arrest, and I know you really shouldn’t resist.”
Black Annis laughed.
Scrannel forced himself to his feet and threw a punch, but Tanith struck his forearm with the hilt of her sword. The piece of tin that covered that section of arm now had a large dent in it. She kicked him and the corrugated iron that made up his chest-plate rattled as he fell back.
Tanith looked over at Annis. “I know enough. I know that sunlight turns you to stone for all eternity. I know that you’ve killed and eaten hundreds of people over the years.”
“Thousands,” Annis corrected.
“Well, in that case, you are doubly under arrest.”
“You shouldn’t have come here alone.”
Scrannel ran to the dark corner of the cave where he kept his stuff, and grabbed the wooden spear he’d been working on for weeks. He ran back towards Tanith and when he was close enough so there was no way he could miss, he hurled the spear and missed. It sailed past her, right out through the cave mouth. She didn’t even have to duck.
Tanith jumped and spun, a leg snapping out from nowhere and hitting Scrannel in the jaw. He whirled and clanked and fell and clanked and hit the ground and clanked, and then he lay still and didn’t clank any more.
Annis bent her knees, ready to spring. “Any last requests?”
Tanith shrugged. “Fall over and go to sleep?”
Tanith dodged the first swipe of the nails, but only just. Annis pressed the attack, forcing the intruder to retreat. Tanith, panic showing in her eyes, blocked with the sword, but Annis had both hands working, which was the equivalent to ten long knives slashing through the air.
A boot found Annis’s knee and she stumbled back and hissed. Tanith came forward, thrusting the sword high then sweeping it low, but Annis had anticipated the feint and the nails of her left hand connected with the blade and forced it down, while her right hand went to carve up Tanith’s pretty face.
At the last moment Tanith raised an elbow, striking Annis’s arm and making her miss, but the move meant that she had taken one hand off her sword. Annis flicked her left hand and tore the sword from Tanith’s grip. It fell between them, then Annis stepped over it, hands flashing.
Tanith stumbled back, desperately trying to dodge another few swipes. Annis’s nails struck the cave wall repeatedly, but she was grinning now, looking forward to the meal that was about to come.
Tanith kept moving, however, swaying just far enough so that the nails would miss and hit the wall. Annis was growing impatient, and Tanith moved in, punched her right on the nose, before moving away again.
Annis could see, by the skin of her hands, that she was at her bluest. She felt the anger build, and she let out a roar and her attack became a frenzy of slashing claws that hit nothing but cave wall. She rushed at Tanith, who leaped to the wall and ran sideways along it. Annis howled her rage and tried to reach her. But now Tanith was upside down, above her, and as Annis whirled Tanith jumped and flipped, landed beside her sword, snatching it up.
They went at it, sword against nails, and now Annis could see something new in Tanith’s eyes. The panic was gone, the desperation was gone, and Annis suddenly realised it had never been there in the first place. She knew, instinctively, that this had all been planned. But why? What could Tanith possibly have to gain by simply defending, and dodging attacks?
Tanith