Nim rushed us into the entrance hall, where Bentham waited anxiously. He didn’t even bother to greet us. “Why have you brought these grims?” he said, his eyes darting to the laundry cart. “Where’s the creature?” “It’s here,” I said. Lifting out the cubs, I began to pull back the linens. Bentham looked but kept his distance. The sheets on top were white but grew bloodier as I dug, becoming a black cocoon as I reached the bottom. I pulled back the last and there it was, a small, withered thing in a fetal curl. It was hard to believe this pathetic creature was the same one that had given me such nightmares. Bentham stepped closer. “My God,” he said, looking at the bloody sheets. “What did they do to him?” “Actually, I did that,” I said. “I didn’t really have a choice.” “It was about to swallow Jacob’s head,” Emma explained. “You didn’t kill it, did you?” Bentham said. “It’s no use to us dead.” I said, “I don’t think so,” and then told the hollow to open its eyes, and very slowly, it did.
