The barbecue's sizzling, and I'm there behind it, nursing a beer. Dad used to do this. No turkey, no ham on Christmas Day. Just meat cooked to within millimetres of inedibility and salad. Beer, too, of course. We have a couple of dozen stubbies of Fourex and Tooheys Old swimming in ice in the laundry sink.
It's a pretty grim Christmas. Last year there were so many more people. There doesn't seem to be much of a chance of backyard cricket. I look down at the lawn, which is in need of a mow – I'm not going to have time to do it in the next few days. But the kids don't seem to mind. Alex is down there with Tim and Sally. I'm glad I invited him. Christmas is a busy time for us, but for a moment we can pretend it isn't.
A hand slides around my waist. 'Look at him down there, bailed up by your cousin. Do you think they're bitching about you?'
Alex is listening intently to something Tim is saying.
'Of course not, they respect me too much,' I say, kissing Lissa on the cheek. I like the feel of her next to me, though she's a bit too bony at the moment, her cheeks too wan. After the Moot in two days I expect our stress levels to improve. Our staff intake is rising, not to mention my own involvement in the business. It's amazing what more than twelve hours without someone trying to kill you can do. But it doesn't feel like it's enough.
Lissa and Tim were right. I was letting things slip out of control. Well, I'm back now. And I know I'm getting better at the job. I've learnt so much in the past week.
The more people in this house, the less space there is for ghosts to fill it. And I'm doing my best to ensure that there are no more ghosts in the near future. I miss Oscar's and Travis's presence. But Wal is right, I can handle this. I have my own eyes and ears around the house, some of which are eating beetles. I wince and take a deep swallow of my beer. They're not the greatest taste, even second hand.
'Christmas always makes me feel a little sad,' Lissa says.
'You missing your parents?'
Lissa nods her head. 'It's been more than a year for me. I've already had a Christmas without them.' She squeezes my hand. 'I know how hard it must be for you.'
'Yeah, but having you here makes it easier.'
'Is that smoke I smell coming from the barbie?' Tim yells, and I realise that everyone is looking at us. The barbecue is definitely smoking.
'Must mean the sausages are ready,' I say, stacking them onto a plate. Sure they're a little charred, but you've got to keep up tradition.
We sit around a dinner table laden with beer, soft drink, blackened sausages and bowls of salad. The kids groan when Tim kisses Sally. And everyone ignores my quick pash with Lissa.
Here is what I'm fighting for. This family. These connections old and new. We eat together, we laugh together. And seventy people around the country die. It's not too bad. And there are Pomps for every single one of them.
Perhaps, despite my doubts, the system's working. Our guests are gone by early evening. The sky is smudged with the last tints of sunset. The city's quiet, the suburbs marked by the distant rumble of an engine, or the bark of a dog. Crows caw in nearby trees and noisy mynas live up to their name, chirping, chirping, chirping, as they hunt cicadas or try and push another bird out of their territory. They avoid my Avians, though, and shoot from the yard every time they hear the whoosh of black wings, the thrashing beat of a crow taking flight.
I sit on the back porch thinking, Lissa curled up next to me. Finally, some time to talk.
'So you're telling me the Hungry Death is real,' Lissa says.
'Yes, very much so.' I smile at her. 'I call it HD.'
Lissa groans. 'But I thought the Hungry… I mean, HD was destroyed,' she says.
'No. More like redistributed.' I tap my chest. 'The Orcus, we're all the Hungry Death now. And the other thing – Christ, I really couldn't believe it. Did you know pomping was once addictive?'
Lissa lifts to one elbow. 'Where are you getting all this information?'
'Mr D. He's been quite forthcoming of late.'
Lissa smiles. 'I'm glad you two are finally connecting.'
'All it took was a fishing trip and a run-in with a giant shark, among other things.'
'They say giant sharks are very much part of the male bonding process,' Lissa says. She yawns, lays her head down on my lap. 'Let's continue this conversation later. Say, once I've had a nap.'
I watch her fall asleep, stroking her face, pulling her hair away from her eyes. Having Lissa here this Christmas has made it just about bearable, but my parents' absence is palpable and agonising. I finish my beer. My head dips, my eyes close and I'm in a dream at once.
The Hungry Death laughs, and dances around the corpses of Lissa and my family. This new family. The one I haven't lost yet.
But you will. The shadow that is the Hungry Death dips into a bow. Merry Christmas, Mr de Selby.
In one swift movement it wrenches Lissa's head from her shoulders, and hurls it at my face. Her dead eyes open, unseeing, never to behold me again.
I wake with a jolt. Only a moment's passed since my eyes closed, scarcely more than an eye blink. Lissa's still next to me, her heartbeat is strong. She's a thousand times more alive than when I first saw her, and I will not see her dead again. Never. I refuse to.
And it's so lovely to know that that is inside me, and is part of me in such a fundamental way. So very lovely indeed.
'You know,' I whisper to it. 'All I really wanted for Christmas was a pair of socks.'
I slide away from Lissa. There's an ibis on a nearby roof, looking like a weathervane. It turns its long beaked face towards me.
'Lissa's sleeping,' I say. 'Keep an eye on her.'
It dips its head, and scrambles across the roof for a better view. A crow shoots above me, landing on our roof with a scrape of claws. I get a confusion of perspectives looking in towards Lissa and away. The suburb is quiet, but for kids riding their new bikes, or people getting ready for a late Christmas dinner. Aircons are sighing, beetles are whirring. There's a clatter and a snap from up on the roof, and for a moment I can taste the crow's gecko dinner. Ugh.
I walk back to Lissa, kiss her on the brow. She startles me by actually opening her eyes.
'Where are you going?'
'Somewhere you can't come. Don't worry, I'll be safe – well, safeish. I've got work to do.'
'It doesn't stop for you, does it?'
I smile. 'You know, there was a while there when I thought it did. That I deserved a break. But when I stop, people die, people who I care about. And when they die, I die a bit, too.'
Lissa touches my face, with a hand so perfect, so clear in my mind that I could hold it forever. 'Merry Christmas,' she says.
And I think about HD, and its last words to me. I can't let it spoil this. I'll be damned if I'm going to give it even a minor victory.
'Yeah, merry Christmas.'
Then I shift, leaving her and my Avian Pomps behind.