Someone kills the seedy soundtrack. The silence is louder than the music. The demons stop sharply; the dancer—about to take off one of her fake badges—turns herself the right way up and peers at the back of the room. ‘Turn that back on!’
Jones is behind a bank of equipment, power lead in one hand. ‘There’s a riot outside.’ His voice comes out too loud in the quiet room. ‘You might want to get out of here.’
The lights keep flashing and spinning.
‘That’s bullshit.’ One of the punters stands up, clutching the notes he’s been saving for the redhead. His suit is crushed, eyes cloudy. He takes three steps and freezes when there’s a burst of gunfire outside. He stumbles back to his seat, downs the dregs in his glass and snatches up the rest of his cash.
An explosion rocks the building.
The two Immundi charge.
Rafa takes them both on. More appear from the doorway, all armed with blades or knives. The dancer screams.
Don’t think
.
I forget about getting the men out and run at the new arrivals, striking at the first demon I reach. He blocks and I spin away before he can counterattack. More Immundi in black suits stream past. I lunge at the first one again, and again the bobble-headed demon blocks me, crossing the short blades in front of his face. He grins, his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. I kick him hard between his legs. He grunts, drops to his knees. Good to know that works on demons too. His neck is exposed.
I draw back the katana, tighten my grip. I hesitate. These things almost look human.
But those teeth and claws. And those kids…
I bring the sword down. Hard.
Zak, Jones and Mya are all busy with Immundi now. We’re outnumbered three to one. And then a dozen more Outcasts are there, leaping into the fray.
The patrons are on their feet, knocking over stools and crashing into tables.
‘The back door!’ the barman shouts and runs in that direction himself.
The back door. Where Jess and Ez are waiting with the kids. They’ll get trampled. Another round of gunfire outside.
‘Rafa!’ I race to get ahead of the scrambling men. ‘Jess and Ez are out there.’
Mya kicks an Immundi in the chest and runs towards me. ‘Go! Go!’ She shifts before she finishes yelling.
The fleeing men are panicked, fighting each other as they run. I race ahead down a hall. Slam a door shut behind me and shove boxes in the way. Not enough of an obstacle to trap them—I need to slow them down until we can get the kids out of the portico.
I burst out of the back door and Ez immediately shuts it behind me. It’s complete chaos out here: kids crying and banging on the bars; Jess trying to calm them, carrying the boy we found in the cubicle. His legs are wrapped around her hips, head on her shoulder. Mya is trying to get the gate open. She’s ripped the cover from the electronic pad and is pulling out wires, her eyes constantly flicking from Jess to the back door. More gunshots up the road—closer now—followed by shouts and distant sirens. A building is on fire half a block down. The street is choked with smoke. My nostrils burn with it. A neon sign buzzes, then disappears as the smoke drifts closer.
I find a path through the kids, hold my katana over my head out of harm’s way. I grip the gate, ready to push it open as soon as Mya gets it unlocked. How far away are the rioters? I press my face against the metal bars. A movement on the street catches my eye. Neon and flames swim in my eyes.
‘Well,
this
is an added bonus.’ The voice is deep and smoky, and I have to hang on to the gate to stop my legs giving out from beneath me.
NASTY SURPRISE
Oh shit, oh shit.
Bel.
Blood and all the noise of the street and the kids roars in my ears.
The pale demon is standing in the middle of the road, a broadsword at his waist. I vaguely register that he’s recovered from the blade Nathaniel buried in his shoulder earlier in the week. He looks taller in daylight, his fine features and white hair more startling. His irises are still on fire. My fingers tighten on the bars.
Behind me, the men from the club hit the back door. I hear it open, then sounds of fighting.
More screaming. The kids have seen Bel. He stands there on the street, soaking up the fear and panic roiling behind the gates.
I risk a look over my shoulder. Ez is holding off the men, kicking and punching them back into the hallway, using everything but her sword to slow them down; they’re a problem we don’t need, but they’re still human. She doesn’t know we’ve got a bigger problem outside the gates.
The kids are swarming, frantic, caught between the fighting men and the monster outside the gate. I catch a glimpse of a floral dress and then it’s gone, lost in the crush.
Something clicks in the metal under my hands. I freeze.
‘Open it!’ Mya shouts.
‘We’ve got company.’
Mya straightens, sees Bel. ‘Jess, call for back-up.’
Jess’s eyes skitter to the white-haired demon. ‘I can’t! You’re not done inside yet!’
‘I don’t care. We’re getting these kids out.’
‘But—’
‘DO IT!’
Jess pulls a slim-line phone from inside her nurse’s uniform, taps in the number one-handed. Bel strolls back and forth in front of us, his eyes flitting from Mya to me and back again. The children cower back from the bars now, crying.
‘I knew you would not be able to stay away from here,’ Bel says to Mya. ‘All that guilt. All that regret. But you, Gabriella, you are a most delicious surprise. Are you still trying to work out which side you want to die on? Let me give you a tip: Nathaniel will not be turning up to save you this time. Not at this place of the damned.’
Scuffling continues behind us. ‘Hey!’ Ez shouts. ‘Either open that gate or give me a—’ She doesn’t finish the sentence and I’m not game to take my eyes off Bel again to find out why.
‘Bring the bus,’ Jess shouts into her phone. ‘And bring back-up—uugh!’ She slams into me as the men from the club crash into her. Ez isn’t holding them back any more. Mya and I lock eyes. We have to open the gates. It’s not as if they’re keeping Bel out.
‘Go on, let the little ones run,’ Bel says. ‘More Immundi are coming. It will give them something to do when they see their pets fleeing.’
Bodies press against me. I react without thinking. I punch two men and use my knee to push a third away. They stink of bourbon. Mya lays a hand on the gate, looks at me. She’s waiting for me to make the call.
Is this more complicity or is she unsure? Right now it doesn’t matter—there’s no choice.
‘Open it.’
Mya turns the handle. As soon as the latch gives, we’re pushed out onto the street by the crush of men. I clear a path for the kids. They stream out from the portico, all of them instinctively veering away from Bel, which means they run towards the riot. Jess goes with them, her red stilettos the only colour in the grey street. Ez has gone back inside.
Mya glances from Jess and the kids to Bel and me.
Oh shit, don’t leave me here with him. Surely nothing I’ve done to her warrants being thrown to a demon.
She reaches for something behind her, moving backwards. Bel draws the heavy sword from his belt. I grip my katana, my fingers numb.
Two loud pops echo in the street. I flinch with each one.
Mya has fired two rounds into Bel’s forehead. He staggers back, surprise registering on his angular face. Blood dribbles down from the two neat holes. She fires twice more, one in each bicep. He flinches and drops his sword.
‘Might slow him down till the cavalry arrives,’ Mya says, and then takes off into the smoke.
It’s the only break I’m going to get.
I run at Bel, swinging at his long neck. He ducks, then I see a flash of metal coming for my face. I only just manage to block him. He grunts at the impact of steel on steel, his face covered in bright red blood. There’s more seeping through his coat sleeves.
He swings again. Quick, brutal—I deflect it. He’s driving me towards the fence, backwards. There’s a gutter here somewhere. I step carefully, block another strike at my neck. The next step is shorter. I’m over the gutter—more luck than skill. There’s a burst of noise behind me in the portico. It sounds like a stampede out of the club. I can’t risk looking but Bel is grinning with bloodstained teeth. It’s not good news.
I back into the fence. There’s nowhere left to go.
Bel takes his sword in both hands, rains down blow after blow until the katana jars from my hand and clatters to the ground. Before I can duck, his bony body is pressed against mine, pinning me against the metal bars. The flat side of his heavy blade is pressed against my throat. It’s strangely warm.
He has to lean down to keep his weight against me. There’s so much blood on him. How much can he have left? But his irises are still blazing.
‘I suspected you could no longer shift.’ Bel’s breath is hot on my face. I smell sulphur and decay. ‘I am so pleased to find it is true. It will make hurting you so much more satisfying. You will tell us the truth about what you and your brother did, no matter how long it takes.’ He strokes the blade against my throat. ‘And this time when I end you, you will not come back.’
The road blurs. I bite the inside of my lip. I need to stay conscious, buy myself some time. He can’t force me to shift with him unless he knocks me out.
‘Foolish to come alone,’ I say between breaths.
‘Yes, it would have been. So I did not.’
My chest tightens. That’s why Rafa and the others are still in the club. Fighting Gatekeepers. I’m really on my own out here.
Sirens—so close they must be out front now. But they’re not coming for me. At best they’re coming for the kids. I move my foot. I can feel the edge of the sword, but I can’t move. Bel smiles, then kicks it away. What sort of fighter am I? I lose my only wea—
The knife.
It’s still there, digging into my hip.
‘Who did you bring?’ I hold his gaze, keep my movements as small as possible. Knowing I can’t shift has made him complacent. I reach under my shirt.
‘Some old friends, who will be very happy to—’
I jam the knife between his ribs. There’s bile in my throat as I push through muscle and sinew. He stumbles back. ‘Pestilence!’ He sprays spittle and blood on my face and the fence.
I dive for my katana. I take it cleanly and spring back to my feet, just as he jerks the knife out and throws it, straight and true.
It lands cleanly in the top of my thigh. My bad leg.
The force of it drives me backwards. I stagger, hit the bitumen hard. The blade’s gone into my leg up to the hilt which is still quivering. But it’s not hurting. Oh, wait… shards of white pain radiate down my leg.
‘Ah shit.’
Rafa.
He’s kneeling next to me, still out of breath from fighting inside. ‘Don’t pull it out yet.’
Pull it out? Is he insane?
Rafa looks up at Bel, who has moved back into the middle of the road. ‘You’re not looking so hot yourself.’ He stands up and spins his katana. It’s dripping with dark blood.
Bel pokes at the wound in his chest as if it’s a science experiment. Rafa moves so fast he must have shifted, but even with that speed, Bel’s gone by the time he reaches him.
‘Chicken shit.’ Rafa comes back to where I’m leaning against the fence. He slides an arm around me.
‘I stabbed him first.’ I don’t want Rafa thinking I just let Bel take my knife and stick it in me.
‘I told you it would come in handy. Good job dealing with him on your own.’
He helps me to my feet. I grit my teeth and take my weight on the other leg. ‘Mya put four bullets in him first.’
‘Also handy.’
Jones comes out of the club. ‘The police are inside—’ He does a double-take at the knife. ‘Everyone else has gone.’
Ez and Zak shut the door behind them. Ez takes one look at me and winces. ‘Let’s go.’
‘We need to make sure Jess got the kids out,’ I say.
‘I’ll go,’ Ez says.
‘I’m coming too.’
Rafa’s fingers dig into my side. ‘You’ve got a knife in your leg.’
I face him. His arm around me is hot, overly hot. I’m on fire. The noise that was all around us moves overhead as well. A chopper. ‘Then get it out and—’
Mya sprints around the corner before I finish. Her sword’s gone, but she’s still carrying the handgun. She pulls up when she reaches us, sees the knife.
‘Nice catch.’
‘The kids?’ I ask.
‘On their way to a safe house.’
Thank god. ‘Is Jess okay?’
‘She twisted her ankle in those stupid heels, but otherwise she’s fine.’
A burning tyre rolls through the intersection at the end of the street. Two guys are running behind it, tyre irons in their hands, hoods up.
‘The rest are coming.’ Mya steps through the gate, out of sight from the street. She taps a message into her phone, glances at me. ‘You should get her out of here,’ she says to Ez. And then she’s gone.
Rafa takes my weight and Ez ducks under my other arm to help half-carry me into the portico. They exchange a look. Ez nods.
‘Ready?’ Rafa says, but he’s not asking me.
Ez leans down, yanks the knife from my leg and clamps her hand over the wound. I scream. Loud enough that the cops inside probably heard it.
They take me into welcome blackness.
LINES BLUR
When I come to, I’m back on the bunk in Dubai. I can’t have been out long because the rattling air conditioner hasn’t had time to take the warmth from the room. My leg throbs.
‘You scream like a girl.’ Rafa sits on the bed next to me.
‘I am a girl.’
He glances down at my bare legs. ‘I’ve noticed.’
I struggle to sit up. All I’m wearing is a t-shirt, my underwear and a bandage around my thigh. My legs are still scarred from the accident—or whatever happened last year. White, ugly marks across my thighs and knees. I’d cover myself up, but with what? My jeans are on the floor, torn up.
Rafa gestures to my leg. ‘Better?’
I tentatively probe the bandage, nod. I still ache all over from the aftermath of adrenaline. ‘How come Ez pulled out the knife before we shifted?’
‘You can’t heal with a blade in the wound.’
Oh. Yeah.