Ruby Johnson had no choice. She was a thief and so she did what thieves do. She stole and gave what she had stolen to the Legion, after she had creamed the best of the pickings off the top for herself. In return they gave her security, of a sort, and the pretence of a family; companionship without love.

Although she was dressed in a hooded coat with fur trim, she looked and felt more like a drowned cat than a sophisticated young lady. The storm that had arrived last night had brought nothing but misery. The fat, swollen clouds that filled the sky reminded Ruby of bruises, purple-black and sickly yellow. But she was the one taking the beating. Her feet squelched inside her ankle boots as rivers of rain tumbled through the streets. Hunger chewed at her insides. Worry squirmed in her mind. Ruby was wretched and weary. This was not how she had planned her life to be.

Things had been easier when she’d worked for Claw Carter. He had been her protector for a while, but now he was gone. Some said that he was dead, but Ruby preferred the other rumour; that Carter had defected to the Watchers and that he and Ben Kingdom were plotting Sweet’s downfall. Ruby liked that.

She smiled as she thought of Ben. There was a time, not so long ago, when she thought they might have run away together and left everything behind. The Legion, the Watchers, the squalid streets, and the grinding hardship that was all kids like her and Ben could look forward to. But that plan had fallen through too.

And it had been her fault, Ruby remembered with a stab of regret.

The memory was etched as hard as diamond on her mind. The moment when everything could have changed, when Ben had the opportunity to destroy the last of the Coins of Blood – and Ruby had ruined it, all because she couldn’t resist the pull of the cursed silver. Within the hour that blasted coin had become the last component of Mr. Sweet’s weapon of mass domination, the Crown of Corruption.

Ruby had been weak, and now all of London was paying the price.

So perhaps it was fitting that her new benefactor was a monster.

She was out stealing for him now. She had thought that Legion rule would make this part of her life much easier, but the streets had become more dangerous than ever. Thieves and thugs were running the city, and all the decent, honest, law-abiding people had either been rounded up and hauled off to the detention camp or were hiding behind locked doors, barricaded in their own homes. Ruby didn’t have to worry about the police catching her, but she did have to be on constant guard to make sure that she wasn’t mugged herself.

Most of the shops that she passed had been boarded up. There had been widespread looting when the Legion took control, and the shops that remained were only allowed to serve Legion members. If you weren’t wearing a Legion armband – a black, gauntleted fist on a white background – then it was a case of “Sorry, not today”.

“Miss Johnson,” a snooty voice called out. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Too late, Ruby spotted Mickelwhite and Bedlam coming the other way. She made to turn on her heel, but was too slow. Damn it.

Ruby halted and Captain Mickelwhite swaggered over to her, unhurried by the rain. Ruby had never liked him. He seemed to have a permanent sneer on his lips. She liked his companion even less – John Bedlam was a thug.

“I can’t stay, boys,” Ruby purred, putting on the charm. “Places to go, things to steal.”

She began to walk away, only to feel Bedlam’s heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Stay and chat, Ruby. Or haven’t you got time for your old mates?” There was no mistaking the hint of menace in his tone.

Ruby smiled and flashed her emerald eyes. It had always been her way of turning situations to her advantage. “I’d love to have a chinwag, but I really am in a hurry.” To get away from you.

Bedlam’s hand did not move. “Well, how about you give us something to remember you by,” he said, his fingers moving from her shoulder to the bag she carried. “What have you got in there, Ruby?”

“Let’s have a look, shall we, John?” said Mickelwhite, yanking Ruby’s satchel to him and rummaging inside. He quickly found a wallet that Ruby had lifted earlier, as well as some cheese and cured meat that she had wrapped in a piece of muslin; the meal she’d been saving for later. “What’s that, Ruby? ‘Help yourselves, boys.’ Don’t mind if we do.”

Mickelwhite pocketed the wallet and split the food with Bedlam, then he turned the satchel inside out to make sure he hadn’t missed anything before he flung it to the ground.

“Remember whose side you’re on,” he told her in parting.

Ruby retrieved her bag, clenching her teeth together hard. A single tear escaped and was lost in the rivers of raindrops rolling down her face. She felt angry and humiliated, but worse than that, she felt utterly alone.

Mickelwhite’s words had struck a nerve; Ruby didn’t feel she belonged on anyone’s side. Not the Legion or the Watchers. She just knew that she wanted to get away from London and start her life over again.

And so she had been building up a secret stash – her “escape fund”, as she called it. Enough to set her up in a new life. In the meantime though, she had to keep her head down. Keep her nose clean, serve her new master.

Which meant finding the key. Ruby had been given a description. It wasn’t the sort of treasure that made her own green eyes light up, but someone else was desperate to get their hands on it.

Or rather their talons.

Why Grey Wing wanted the Gehenna Key was no concern of hers. All she knew was that she had to find it for him…or else.

Grey Wing squatted beside the pit.

The key is hidden beyond your reach… Those had been Josiah’s exact words. A mere slip from the Weeping Man’s lips, but it was enough to seal the fate of the Watchers… Of London… Of the world.

The Feathered Man croaked a laugh which reverberated through the cavernous chamber. The sanctuary of the Under was the Legion’s cathedral. It was here that they carried out their ancient rituals. It was a place steeped in history and stained with blood. And beneath the huge vaulted ceiling was the anti-spire. A hole of impossible depth, filled to the brim with blackness.

No one knew what lay at the bottom – no humans knew, anyway. Grey Wing hopped, birdlike, around the rim of the pit, gazing into the dark. His unforgiving eyes filled with delight. With his long talons he felt around the flagstones at the lip until he found one that lifted. The long, lean muscles of his arms strained until the stone was removed. Beneath it was a keyhole. Almost affectionately, Grey Wing let his talon trace the shape. All that was missing was the key. The Gehenna Key.

And what did a key do, except unlock a door?

Josiah had not told him where it could be found, not even as his wings were hacked off. But he had given Grey Wing an inadvertent clue. The key was beyond the reach of the Feathered Men…somewhere that Grey Wing and his kind could never go. That could only mean that it was on consecrated ground.

It might take time. It might mean that every church in London had to be reduced to rubble. But the Gehenna Key would be his.

Grey Wing listened intently, bending his head towards the lip of the pit.

It was very faint, but it could definitely be heard. Echoing from the depths.

Chittering. Scratching. Slithering.

“Not long,” Grey Wing whispered. “Not long.”