Isaac took a deep breath, put his finger on the trigger, and aimed at the spot marked by the invisible outline.
The gunshot exploded through the night sky, the muzzle flash lighting up the roof for an instant. The figure among the flock lost its left arm, which broke off as though it had been torn clean away.
Bullets used against aberrants were often reinforced through special processes, making them far more powerful than those used against ordinary people. They could blow a sheep's head apart in one shot, but the recoil was tremendous. An untrained person who used one recklessly would break their arm with a single shot.
Isaac had trained for several years and had grown accustomed to the impact, but he still felt a numb ache after every shot.
Yet after its arm was shot off, Mary did not slow down. Instead, it sped up, as though the lost arm meant nothing to it. The flock picked up its pace as well, white shapes surging beneath the moonlight, their hooves thundering.
That shot had clearly not been enough to stop Mary. To truly bring this thing to a halt, he would have to inflict more effective damage.
Isaac steadied his breathing and aimed again.
He adjusted the muzzle, aiming for the girl's head. The sensation of being guided was still there, keeping the gun's sway to a minimum, and under his conscious control, the invisible frame narrowed, gradually closing in around Mary's head.
Even with the special boost from the check, being able to use it effectively was crucial. Someone with Isaac's training clearly had far more room to make use of it than someone with no shooting experience at all.
He pulled the trigger, and a second gunshot split the night sky. The bullet struck Mary in the head.
Isaac's heart leaped, but he soon saw that Mary's head had not burst apart. It merely snapped backward, its entire upper body bending back under the impact like a weed flattened by a gale.
That head's way too hard, Isaac cursed inwardly. It seemed things on the calamity sequence really were hard to kill.
Surprised as he was, Isaac did not hesitate. However tough Mary's head was, that last shot had exposed another opening.
In that brief instant, Isaac focused, and the invisible frame contracted again.
The third shot.
Bang-
Isaac had not been very confident about that shot, but fortunately, the bullet did not disappoint him. It struck Mary in the neck.
Mary's neck was not as hard as its head. The tremendous impact of the holy silver bullet snapped it cleanly, and its head came free of its body, tumbling into the flock.
"Oh, that worked pretty well." Carlo leaned his head out of the carriage window, watching what was happening behind them.
The flock slowed noticeably, bleating in confusion. Mary's head tumbled beneath their hooves. Several sheep failed to pass it, tripped, and were trampled by those behind them, causing even more sheep to fall.
The girl's figure stopped too, standing in the wilderness like a statue.
Isaac did not fire a fourth shot. That was his last bullet, and stopping it from pursuing them was enough for now.
He watched the distance between them and the flock widen. The white outlines gradually shrank in the moonlight, until they finally melted into the darkness and could no longer be seen.
Isaac put away his revolver, climbed back into the carriage through the roof hatch, and dropped onto a seat, catching his breath.
"Three shots to take care of it. Not bad," Carlo said, settling back into his seat.
Isaac flexed his wrist. "If the aiming boost hadn't helped me lock onto the spot, I probably wouldn't have landed any of those shots."
"If something on the calamity sequence could be killed with one ordinary holy silver bullet, the church wouldn't need to hold meetings about it every year," Carlo said. "What its true form actually looks like is still unknown. But you broke its neck, so at least it'll be quiet for a while. It'll have to grow another head first."
"It can grow back..." Isaac frowned.
He wasn't very surprised, but he was a little disappointed. Apparently, his shots hadn't even counted as seriously injuring it.
"There's no way it'd be that easy to kill for good." Carlo shrugged. "But it'll take some time to grow a new head. Even at its fastest, it'll need a few minutes, I'd say. Either way, that's enough for us to reach Vista's safe zone. Once we're in Vista, if it dares come close, those people from the Church of the Golden Bough will teach it how to be a sheep."
Looks like we're safe for now... Isaac breathed a sigh of relief.
The headless girl stood among the flock. Around it, the lambs circled anxiously in place, pawing at the dirt and bleating softly.
The familiar scent that reassured them had become disordered and strange, like a nursery rhyme sung for years suddenly losing its tune.
Mary raised its right hand and reached for the nearest lamb. The flock gradually fell quiet, lowering their heads as they waited for the Shepherd's instructions.
The lamb trembled all over, letting out a faint bleat. Mary's fingers sank into its wool, gently stroking its neck as though soothing a frightened child.
The lamb trembled harder, but it neither fled nor struggled. It only bleated more faintly, as though pleading.
Mary gripped the lamb's neck and gave it a gentle twist. There was a sharp crack.
The body swayed in place, then fell. Mary lifted the severed sheep's head above its own neck. The tissue at the severed ends quickly fused, flesh joining flesh and fur joining skin.
The surrounding flock grew even more uneasy. They lowered their heads and pressed their bodies close together, but still not a single sheep dared flee. They only clustered around the girl, crowding close to it.
Mary stroked another lamb. This one was smaller than the last. It raised its head, nuzzled the girl's fingers with its nose, and let out an ingratiating bleat...
It was immediately drowned out by the sound of chewing.
The surrounding sheep watched in silence, moonlight and blood reflected in their rectangular pupils.
They were docile sheep, and docile sheep would always obediently let their master take whatever was needed.
The overseer stopped, panting. He did not know how long he had been running, only that he had come a long way.
He braced his hands on his knees and gasped for quite a while before straightening up and looking back the way he had come.
He could see nothing in the darkness. The monster probably had not followed him.
No, even if it did give chase, it should go after those people first.
He breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down at his empty hands. He had been in such a hurry to run that he had even thrown away his oil lamp, and his pipe had fallen out somewhere along the way.
The overseer cursed under his breath and continued toward the nearest monastery, following the route he remembered.
As he walked, his relief at surviving gradually faded, and another fear slowly crept over him.
Lord Banbury.
After something this serious had happened, what would the lord do to him if he returned empty-handed?
He stopped, the night wind chilling his back.
Losing his job would be the least of it. He might even be charged with dereliction of duty and condemned to hard labor.
He gritted his teeth, wondering whether he should go back and see what was happening. But the moment he thought of the sheep's split-open mouth and its ghastly white teeth, the little courage he had mustered drained away.
I'd... I'd better go back, even if I'm punished...
Just as he was wavering, a soft call came from behind him.
"Baa-"
The overseer froze, not daring to turn around.
"Baa-"
Another bleat, closer than before.
It sounded like a lamb affectionately calling to one of its own.