“He says he hears them calling out to him,” Gimson replied. “And as to what he does when he gets them — you really don’t want to know.” He bent closer to the creature, examining it carefully. The creature waved blindly towards him, aware somehow that there was warm blood in the vicinity. “This one hasn’t fed for a while.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s looking for something to attach to.”

“Should we leave it?” Hillager asked. “Look for another one tomorrow?” He hoped Gimson would say no, because he really didn’t want to spend any more time in that jungle.

“This is the first one we’ve seen in a week,” Gimson replied. “It could be longer before we see another. No, we need to take this one. We need to get it back home.”

“Will it survive the journey?”

Gimson shrugged. “Probably — if we feed it before we start back.”

“OK.” Hillager looked around. “What do you suggest. A monkey? One of those pig-things?”

Gimson didn’t say anything.

Hillager turned back, to find Gimson staring at him with a strange look on his face. Partly it was sympathy, but mostly it was distaste.

“I suggest,” Gimson said, “that you roll up your sleeve.”

“Are you mad?” Hillager whispered.

“No, I’m a tracker and guide,” Gimson explained. “What exactly did you think your purpose on this expedition was? Now roll up your sleeve. This horror needs blood, and it needs it now.”

Slowly, knowing what Duke’s reaction would be if he found out that Hillager had let his leech die rather than feed it, Hillager began to roll his sleeve up. 

Chapter One 

“Have you ever thought about ants?” Amyus Crowe asked.

Sherlock shook his head. “Apart from the fact that they get all over jam sandwiches at picnics, I can’t say I’ve ever given them much thought.”