10

Dominic’s Hourglass
2336 Minutes

Dom found a small window in the top corner of the wall and he peered up through it. He was below the ground level of the stadium but had a clear view of it through the tiny barred window, one that would let him see his fate but not escape it. He was directly opposite the Nephilim’s podium and as yet it was empty. The crowd was subdued, but still loud. The day had a heaviness about it, a weight that pressed on them all. It was not simply another Trials, and it was clear that they sensed it. It was as though they were unsure about how to act. When the stadium was filled the Nephilim made a show of closing the gates on the hundreds left outside, most of whom could probably not pay the required minutes to enter anyway. Then they made the people wait. This may have worked better to raise expectation if the people were not adept at waiting. Most of them had been in the Necropolis for decades, waiting was all they did.

Finally the Nephilim arrived, walking together, at least thirty of them and making a spectacular entrance. Most were pale-skinned, fair-haired and clothed in the long white pants and tunics that Satarial himself wore. But several had ebony-black skin and they wore garments of a deep scarlet that stood out among the white tunics and the brown and faded black clothing of most of the crowd. They were impressive, terrifying and painfully beautiful to look at. Most people cut their hair daily or kept it tied back behind them in hoods and braids, but the Nephilim let their hair drape freely around their shoulders. The clan seated themselves on the wooden benches of the podium. Deora was there and Dom was surprised that she was not merely a part of the group that sat in file together, but that she was seated on one of the huge thrones next to Satarial. He was too far away to read Satarial’s expression or guess as to the fate of his sister.

They waited again, long agonising moments that set Dom’s teeth on edge. He was poised. He wanted to be out there. Finally, he was gestured to by the guard to follow him down a long corridor to a narrow staircase, at the top of which was closed with a trapdoor.

The guard nodded and Dom walked up the stairs breathing as deeply as he could. As his head reached the trapdoor it vanished allowing him to walk upwards into the centre of the Arena. The light was diffuse, but it still blinded him for several moments and his senses were overwhelmed by the clamour of the crowd. When his eyes adjusted he turned to face the Nephilim. The crowd had been waiting for its cue – and Dom’s arrival had given it to them. He was dressed as a warrior and stood as tall as he could. His pants were thick, dark canvas and his boots buckled high up to his knees. Across his bare chest were wide straps, with bronze studs that looked like extra weapons. The women had pulled his hair very high on his head and wrapped it with cloth, creating a horsetail of long braids that fell down behind him. His dagger was hidden in the side of his boot, but the short, polished sword was already in his hand. The people who had been scared to cheer for the death of the boy were relieved of their guilt. He was a man and a warrior. And he was ready.

He watched Satarial, who stood very slowly and walked to the front of the podium. The crowd quieted a little. They knew what to expect – the tradition was well established. The Nephilim stared down at him and Dom could see his face clearly. His face looked tired. Dom expected him to speak, but he moved to the side and revealed Deora standing beside him. Dom felt a moment’s confusion, his poise threatened by the unexpected. She rewarded him and the audience with a sweet and dazzling smile and began to speak, her husky voice carrying across all other noise to every ear in the Arena.

‘Welcome, friends. We have always brought you the most fascinating competitors, the most unusual spectacles and the most harrowing of challenges. Today will be no exception. Today you will be witnessing the challenge of Dominic Mathers, the youngest . . . man to ever enter the Necropolis. He was deemed special by the Awe and so we honour him with the greatest of invitations. The chance to risk the gauntlet of the Arena in the hope of winning the opportunity to enter the Maze.’

The audience cheer was so loud she had to pause for a moment before continuing. ‘As ever . . .’ she raised her hands for quiet, ‘as ever, you may join the Trials by helping the contestant, or offering him an even greater challenge.’ She smiled at this suggestion, one that never failed to amuse and inflame the crowd, but her smile was cut into a crooked frown by a disturbance in the crowd.

On the furthest side of the Arena, a spectator in a hooded cloak had leaped over the edge onto the sand of the Arena floor. The figure strode towards him purposefully and for a moment Dom wondered if the Trials were beginning, if perhaps a member of the crowd had taken the suggestion too literally and was meaning to fight him. He lifted his sword ready for combat. But the figure threw back the dark cloak to reveal Eva, her own sword in hand, and her face set with determination. She did not look at him, but addressed the Nephilim and the crowd. Though her voice did not carry the way Deora’s had, the silence of the astonished crowd meant she was heard by every person in the Arena.

‘I will help the contestant,’ she said clearly. ‘I will fight with him.’

Deora was silent for a moment and sputtered when she finally did find words. ‘That is not . . . that is . . .’ She paused to gather her thoughts and then clearly decided that Eva was more entertainment-value than threat, calmed and continued. ‘An unusual development for an unusual contestant. We look forward to the—’

Again she was cut off, but this time by the enthusiasm of the crowd who were more than excited by this change of routine. They were on their feet, stamping and waving for the Trials to begin. Deora gestured for quiet and eventually got it, her arms raised gracefully and her poise returned.

‘The prize is always the same: the ten thousand minutes needed for the trip through the Maze. And we have made it even more simple for our youngest participant – Dominic need only reach the one medallion hanging from the southern wall and he will be victorious. However, he risks everything.’ She paused and turned to Dominic for effect. It was difficult to read her voice and Dom was concerned. It should have been Satarial speaking, after all this time of trying to get Dominic into the Trials, finding Kaide, watching her weaken, and perhaps die. There was too much between them for the Nephilim to have let Deora take the stage at this moment.

She continued, ‘He risks his eternal freedom and will grace our collection if he fails.’ She directed a wide and beautiful smile around the crowd and they watched her in awe. Her long blonde hair curled down her curved form and her dress was wrapped around her like a sheath. Even with all of his knowledge of her, and the confusion about whether or not she was truly trying to help him, Dominic remained attracted to her. Deora was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But he turned to see Eva standing beside him, her sword drawn and her face set, and he realised that hers was a more appealing beauty. Eva was a real human girl, her skin darkened by the sun of South America, and her face held the tension of a real life lived. She looked back at him and her face softened a fraction and his heart warmed, even in this moment of fear, as he realised that she loved him enough to risk everything and fight with him.

Deora raised her elegant hands. ‘Let the Trials begin.’

Dom turned to Eva and smiled. ‘Thank you. Thank you. You know you don’t need to do this. It is not your job. I made this choice.’

‘Shut up.’ She gave him a rueful headshake. ‘I’m here. I want to be here. Go and get the damn medallion.’

Dom stared across the stadium at the medallion hanging high on the far wall. He looked back at Eva and said, ‘Well, I’m just going to walk over there and get it. Okay?’

She laughed. ‘Okay.’

He advanced a few paces. And then a few more and soon he was more than halfway to the end. The crowd was so tense that he could hear their feet, jittery on the wooden floor, their hands tapping the benches they sat on, waiting to see what the Nephilim had planned. They did not have to wait any longer.

The floor of the Arena opened and in their resplendent white and scarlet a dozen Nephilim rose upwards, silent and still. Dom’s heart leapt quietly in his chest and he tried to keep his new confidence in check. He was to fight the Nephilim. He could do this. He would have been much more afraid of fire or water, but this he had trained for. He wondered what they had been thinking. They knew he could fight them, they had seen it. They knew he was trained by Eduardo. Were they just trying to prove a point? Or entertain? Or was he missing something? The audience was thrilled. These creatures generally kept themselves so aloof and separate from the humans – but here they were, centre stage in the Trials.

Dom had little time to think before the huge figures had surrounded him, their feet gliding across the sand, their bright, intelligent eyes watching him with both wariness and disdain. He sheathed his sword, knowing it was not his most useful weapon and the crowd cheered. He knew his best strategy was to wait for them to attack. Finally, when he was completely surrounded, one of the Nephilim, a huge, ebony-skinned giant, leapt forward from a crouch, arms raised, intent on crushing Dominic’s skull. His instincts did not fail him. He fell to the ground, rolling quickly to the side and raising his leg to kick the inside of the giant’s thigh. It would have hurt an ordinary man, but Dom knew the anatomy of these creatures intimately, their energy flowed much closer to the surface and much more powerfully than humans, who relied more on their blood and flesh than their mind’s connection through their bodies. He struck a point on the Nephilim that collapsed him instantly to the ground, unable to move his leg. He landed heavily and Dom finished him with well-aimed hits up his spine. The giant was silent and still on the ground, but the stadium was in uproar, the people had not expected this and they were ecstatic. They had been excited by the prospect of seeing the Nephilim fight, but the chance that they might lose was even more intoxicating.

The Nephilim did not wait for Dominic to regain his feet; instantly they were on the attack, all of them, and he counted at least ten with his first glance. Eva backed up to him with her sword drawn and he murmured quietly to her.

‘Did Eduardo train you for this?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I am not as strong as you, I need to use my sword for the hits.’

She had barely finished speaking when they were under attack, the entire group swinging, kicking, grabbing. Dominic had time for one quick breath and he let his body take over, using instincts that were not even his to fight in a blur of hands and feet, reaching and striking, rolling and leaping around and under the fighters, blocking their energy and leaving them on the ground. Somewhere in his peripheral vision he saw Eva doing the same using the flat of her sword to strike hard into the lower back, the thigh, the neck, wherever they left themselves open.

Dominic took his share of hits, but he was fast and had practised exactly this type of fighting. He knew how to heal very quickly. So did the Nephilim, although the injuries to their nervous systems took a lot longer to heal than their bodies. Eva had opened up the thigh of a large black-skinned warrior and it had healed before a drop of blood had been shed. Slowly those who had first been taken out were getting up and beginning to fight again. Dom and Eva backed towards each other and the Nephilim circled them, crouched low to keep their long limbs and backs protected from Dominic’s hits. Dom watched them. He was confident, but could feel fatigue seeping into his limbs. It was going to be a long fight, and he tried to find a way to decisively win.

He closed his eyes briefly to focus. He had seconds to figure it out and he tried to sift through the memories Eduardo had given him. They weren’t stored the same way his own were, there was no real way for him to take what he wanted from them. They were a dark patch in his thoughts that interacted with him on an unconscious level, guiding his actions and giving him a type of instinctual knowledge.

There was a whisper of movement and the Nephilim attacked again, several at a time. Eva was dragged away from him and he saw her thrown to the ground at an odd angle. He started towards her and stopped; he had to remember she would heal, this was not life and he did not need to rescue her, the Nephilim would destroy him if he lost focus. He could see her beginning to stir and returned to his task, dodging as many blows as he could, accepting the pain he did feel, and healing as fast as he could. He was slowing, but they were too, a little. He continued to try and access the whole of the dark fuzz of memories in his mind, pushing at it with his consciousness, trying to unlock it. A few flashes of light crossed his vision, perhaps a memory. He saw an ocean. Shaking his head to clear it, he missed the shoulder of the Nephilim in front of him and took a heavy blow to the side of the temple. Dom fell to his knees. He could hear the audience and tried to ward off incoming blows while still pushing at Eduardo’s thoughts. The ocean – brighter than any memory he had of his own life. A dark blue ocean. A cliff top. He could feel the wind. Another blow hit the other side of his body and he struggled to stay upright. There was a woman in the memory – the one he had glimpsed before. A tall and very beautiful woman and she was smiling at him in a way that stopped his heart for a moment. Maya. Her name was Maya. Raw love. She was gone. Another blow to his chest took his breath and the darkness that closed in on him was the final push he needed.

He could see Eduardo fighting, through his own eyes. A taller, stronger Nephilim than any of these and Eduardo was fighting with only his hands. The struggle was difficult to watch as a memory, it was clouded with rage and hatred and Dom couldn’t catch every moment, but he saw Eduardo end the fight. And the Angel had not waited for the Nephilim to attack. This was something Eduardo had chosen not to teach him. It was all he needed.

There was no hesitation this time. Dominic threw himself to his feet, off-balance but upright, and then he leapt backwards into the figure behind him. He lifted his palms up, around the head of the Nephilim who was in front of him, his open palms hitting the sides of his neck, just below his ears. Dom threw himself upwards to hit with the greatest force possible.

The Nephilim crumpled instantly to the ground and Dom had no doubt that if it had been life, the Nephilim would have been dead. As it was, he didn’t move and the other Nephilim briefly paused in their onslaught on Dominic. He stood ready for the next fighter, his hands raised. It was clear that they knew this tactic, and were wary, not one was attacking. A shout behind him made them all turn and he saw Eva use the same palm-up attack on another Nephilim, dropping him to the ground. The group backed away and watched as the two who had been hit lay still, unhealed and silent.

Dom could hear his own breath. He stood ready, his hands in front of him, legs crouched and poised to leap, but the Nephilim just watched. He counted eight more in front of him and he could feel Eva close in on his back. The audience around the stadium was silent and for a brief moment the swish and sigh of the huge trees was also audible, the breath of the ancient trees syncopating his own. He glanced up at Deora and even from a distance he knew that she was unsure what to do. Perhaps she had taken over the Trials to help him or perhaps her motives were more sinister, but he imagined she wished she hadn’t. Almost a minute passed and still the Nephilim on the ground did not move. She would have to do something soon. The Nephilim in the stadium were looking to their peers for some sort of signal.

Deora finally gave it, her arms sweeping over the stadium in a gentle waving motion. There was a rush of warm wind around him and the ground erupted in flame. She was careful not to hit the Nephilim though and managed to surround Eva and Dom in a small ring of flames that, despite its circumference, raged above their heads. It was almost blue in its intensity.

‘We can’t stay here. She will incinerate us,’ Eva whispered to him and he could feel her pressed against him. The heat was burning his skin. ‘We’ll have to jump. Then we must be quick, they will be ready and she will help them.’

Dom nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Now.’

What happened next was a blur. Dom experienced the most sharp and severe pain of his life. The smell of burning skin and hair filled his nostrils and the acrid scent burned them. He swung his hair wildly to flick out the flames and saw his skin had blistered as he reached the other side of the fire. He had no time to think about the pain as the Nephilim had already begun a savage attack, kicking at him with their graceful arcing kicks, keeping their heads as far from him as possible. Dom moved instinctively, flipping onto his hands and using his thick-booted feet to hit one on the side of his head, dropping him instantly. He tried it again and it worked once more before the group stepped back out of his reach. His skin healed quickly and he turned to see that Eva had also healed quickly although much of her long braid had burned and unravelled to her shoulders. She too had taken one more of their attackers to the ground. He glanced around him to get his bearings. They were close to the wall that held the medallion, but he was still not close enough to make a run for it. It was probably thirty metres away, too far to outrun so many Nephilim. He did a quick count. They were still outnumbered more than three to one.

A rushing burst of flame came towards them again and he rolled behind the Nephilim to avoid it. One of the group was not quick enough and there was a scream and he crumpled in a blackened heap on the ground.

Dom returned to his earlier tactics of simply striking the nerve points of their attackers and sending them to the ground. He was quick, perhaps even slightly quicker than they were, and within moments there were two on the ground. He felt Eva’s hand touch his arm from behind and he knew instinctively what she was trying to do. He tried to open his mind. It felt like a very tightly closed portal, but he forced it open enough to see a picture of what she was trying to tell him. He tried to send his assent. They circled back to where the three most recent victims lay healing. One was struggling to get up as his legs regained their strength. Eva stood on one side of him and Dominic on the other and with a swift kick from each of their legs they hit the sides of his head and knocked him completely unconscious. It worked so effectively they repeated the action on the others and turned to face an ever-shrinking group of Nephilim. These four were much more wary, they backed away from Dominic and Eva, giving them such a wide berth that there was no action beside the simmering and shrinking ring of fire that fizzed and popped a few inches above the sand and then finally disappeared.

Dominic looked sideways at the wall. They were closer now, maybe twenty-five metres. He could sprint it. Grab the medallion. The Nephilim podium was on the other side of the Arena. Eva saw the glance and nodded. But their opponents saw it too and moved closer.

‘Go!’ she hissed.

He sprang, his legs pumping as they had when Eduardo had chased him through the City. The Nephilim were faster, but they were cautious and he was able to knock one into another and in the confused moment, hit one in the head with his feet and the other with his hands. They fell. He was almost there, maybe ten more metres. He heard fire hiss around him, but Deora’s aim was off. He wondered again if she actually was on his side. The fire hissed around and behind him cutting off the last two Nephilim. Eva was behind them, her sword swinging in an arc that hit one, then the other, hard in the back, turning them away from him. It was in front of him now, the shiny silver medallion, and he leapt towards it, his hand outstretched.

Dominic didn’t know what had happened at first, he simply found himself flat on the ground, his head aching and his eyes blurred. His first thought was that the medallion was somehow rigged with a trap. Then a flood of blood dripped through his vision. He shook his head to clear it and swiped at his face. There was no further attack so he breathed and stumbled to his feet, his head healing quickly. The Nephilim were on the ground and not even the first of his victims had yet stirred. Dom looked at Eva. She was gazing upwards at the crowd. They were on their feet, silent, watching him. His eyes were still smarting with blood, but he saw some with hands raised. He blinked and saw clearly, his heart sinking. Rocks. They were carrying rocks, some as large as softballs, to throw at him. He had almost made it and still the people were going to stone him.

The first emotion that filled Dom was doom, he had come this far and now he would have to fight the entire crowd. The thought exhausted him. But it was washed away by the anger that flooded in, the darkest anger he had ever felt.

He stepped back and looked up at them all, watching him. Staring. With his deepest voice he yelled up at them, ‘What are you waiting for?’

There was total silence.

‘What? Throw them. Hit me. You’ve spent thousands of years waiting, don’t waste any more of your minutes on me.’

There were hands poised to throw and some people shuffled and looked at each other wondering what to do, waiting for the first move. Dom sensed that if one person was to throw, they all would.

‘Throw them and then go. Go train, go earn your minutes and then get out of this place. Don’t sit here watching this . . . disgusting show. People being burned and tortured. You are better than this. Better than them!’ He gestured to the Nephilim, most of whom had stood and were moving closer to the edge of their pavilion, ready to stop him. Satarial sat, silent and still, watching him.

‘You let them do it. You have been their slaves again! And they’ve poisoned you into thinking it’s entertainment. There are people in cages here. People like you. This was supposed to be the place we came to learn. To get ready for the next step in our journey. I didn’t want to be dead either. I am fifteen! There were a million things I wanted to do. But I’m dead. Every moment we do nothing, this place changes into a place of endless waiting. Do something. Get out of here. Go through the Maze. There must be so much more than this out there. So much better than this.’

He looked around at the silent faces in front of him and threw out his arms.

‘Or just throw your stones.’

There was silence for a long time and then finally the soft whistle and thud of a rock sailing through the air and hitting the sand with a puff. Dom’s heart sank. Another rock whistled through the air and then another. He closed his eyes and put his head down, prepared for the impact. But there was none.

He opened his eyes to see what was happening. The audience were throwing their rocks, their sticks and any other heavy objects that they had with them. And they were throwing them at the two standing Nephilim as well as those lying prone on the sand, and those that could move curled up using their arms to try and shield themselves from the blows. Dom nearly wept with relief and his face lit with a smile that he couldn’t contain. They had heard him. He turned to Eva.

She was shouting to him, but through the hail of missiles and the jeers of the crowd he could barely hear her. He finally caught the word medallion and turned to claim his prize. He leapt up the wall arms outstretched, his hand brushing the silver causing it to swing back and forth. Out of reach.

From his place on the podium Satarial leapt from his chair. With a wave of his hand a wind knocked the last rocks from the air and sent them tumbling harmlessly against the far wall of the Arena. He dropped over the edge and in several swift movements had crossed the Arena and was between Dominic and the medallion, cutting him off and standing so close they were almost body to body. Dominic’s gleamed with sweat and grit and Satarial’s in the purest white linen.

‘Not yet.’ He smiled. It was the same creature in front of him that he had met on his first night in the Necropolis, but it was not the same smile. Satarial’s face was twisted. Dom could see he hadn’t lost any passion for this game.

Satarial pulled off his tunic shirt, and stood bare-chested in the Arena, his skin pale and rippled with muscle. Dominic, if he drew himself up to his full height, came close to his shoulder.

‘You can have it when you get past me.’

There were no cheers from the audience. Just silence.

Dominic sighed. His muscles ached with exhaustion and no amount of healing could fix that. He was thirsty and his breath roared in his throat. He would fight, but he did not know how long he could fight well. Satarial swung his leg in a graceful arcing kick. Dom blocked it and kept out of the way of the offensive, but he couldn’t get close enough to make any hits of his own. Satarial was a far superior fighter to the others, faster, more powerful, more focused. Completely unafraid. Several punches hit Dominic in the chest and head and he fell backwards. He rolled and twisted and managed to get to a standing position again, but Satarial was in front of him, his arms up, protected and yet still attacking. Another hit to the ribs caved his ribcage into his lungs and Dom spat blood as he fell forward. He felt a kick to the side of his head and his eyes dimmed. Another to the back of his head and he lost his vision altogether. The pain was blinding and the darkness disorienting. Whichever way he tried to turn he was hit again and before he could heal he was ravaged further. He tried to stand. This was it, he thought. There was no way for him to beat Satarial. The Nephilim wasn’t even using his other skills, there was no fire, no water, no rocks. He found himself against a wall and he used it to stand. A few faint flickers of light appeared before his eyes.

‘Are you done?’ Satarial said quietly. His voice held the same iciness as his eyes.

Dom spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground as he tried to laugh. ‘No. Bet you can’t kill me.’

Satarial’s eyes narrowed. ‘Bet I can make you wish that I could.’ He swung both arms around, hitting Dominic’s head in quick succession. The darkness returned and Dom could see only a tiny dot of light as he slithered down the wall. He saw Eva with the other two Nephilim. They had hold of her arms and were keeping her back. He was so tired. He tried to heal, but his mind was muddled. He thought he smelled the streets of India again. Mud and dust and dysentery. He wanted to sleep. He’d done everything he was asked to do, hadn’t he? Game over. He laid his head on the dust. If he could just sleep for a moment he might be all right. He closed his eyes.

The dust swirled and he felt wind washing across his skin. Maybe he was in India. There was no wind in Necropolis. He felt it lifting the hairs on his skin, pushing the sandy dust into his face. It was all a dream. All of it. It had to be. He was at the airport waiting for his father’s driver. Someone wanted his iPod.

He opened his eyes a crack.

The dust was still swirling and the sound of the wind was louder, a strange sound like the intake of breath, only much louder. He looked up. It was the intake of breath. The thousand-strong collective breath of the stadium as an Angel, his monumental wings extended and his arms raised, descended slowly into the Arena to stand between Satarial and Dominic.

Eduardo’s voice was ethereal, echoing its deep-accented huskiness across the empty space. ‘I will also fight for him. He won your contest. It is over.’

Satarial’s face contorted in anger.

He spat the words at Eduardo, whatever fear he had originally felt in the Angel’s presence long traded for bitterness. ‘It is over when I say it is over.’

Dom felt some of his pain subside, but he could not seem to heal completely, he was too tired. He struggled to his feet, using his hands to pull himself up the wall of the Arena.

Satarial struck at Eduardo and the Angel leapt into the air, landing on light feet a few inches out of reach. Satarial launched the best of his skill at the Angel, a sublime leaping attack of martial art such as Dominic had never seen. The Nephilim was a skilled and dangerous weapon. But he was no match for the Angel. Again there was the intake of breath from the audience. Eduardo moved in circular motions, his arms and wings and legs in supernatural unison. He immediately had the upper hand, his wings swiping Satarial out of the way, knocking back his kicks, deflecting his arms. Dominic had seen nothing like this in their training, he had been given only the merest glimpses of the Angel’s power. Finally Eduardo seemed to tire of the fight and he swung his wings in an arc, out, around and upwards, grasping Satarial on either side of his head, his wings ready to use the movement Dominic had copied to fight the others. He stopped short however, simply holding the Nephilim in place. Satarial stared at both of them, hatred and defiance burning the whites of his eyes into a dull red.

‘I say it is over,’ Eduardo said, more softly this time. ‘Take your prize, Dominic Mathers. You have earned it.’

Dom did not have to be told a second time. He turned and with the supreme effort of his life jumped to grasp the medallion that swung gently from the wall, pulling it into his hand and holding it up towards the sky. The audience erupted. It was a riot. People stormed out of their seats, unsure of what they were doing or where they were going. They stepped closer to the edge, closer to the Angel, filling the aisles and then the circular walkway that ran the circumference of the Arena and held the collection of glass boxes filled with Satarial’s prizes. Dom continued to hold up the medallion, even as Eva was freed and ran to him, her arms helping to hold him up.

He didn’t see which cage went first, but he heard it. The crack of the glass and the wash of the water as the cage was shattered by the crowd. There was a cheer as the man inside was pulled free. There followed a cacophony of shattering glass and the noise was enough to bolster Dominic into action.

He kissed Eva. Through the mud and blood and dust that covered both their faces, he kissed her and she pulled him back towards her, their mouths sore and tired and hungry for each other.

Satarial pulled away from Eduardo and vanished, leaping up the wall of the Arena and out of sight.

Eduardo turned and looked down at Dominic. ‘You did it.’ There were tears in his eyes, and Dom’s own eyes stung when he saw them.

‘We did it.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ The Angel laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You spoke to them. And they heard you. That was the greatest battle. Look at this.’ The three of them gazed up at the rioting crowd who were now tearing up the wooden branches of the stadium, anything small enough to be broken. There was a scent of smoke.

‘They are going to burn it down! They are going to end this.’ Eduardo’s voice showed his excitement.

Eva spoke first. ‘We should go. It is volatile here and the Nephilim are still very powerful. We should get to the gate now. I will get your bag.’ She ran from Dom’s side and was quickly lost from sight.

People were flooding down into the Arena and heading towards him. Eduardo put a protective arm out to keep them at bay and such was his size that most stayed a few metres away, but the crowd was growing and beginning to move forwards and they had to push to get out of the Arena.

At the gate, Eva was waiting for them, holding his hourglass and satchel in her hands. He took them and as he passed through the gate he held his hourglass up to the vault and it filled to the top. Ten-thousand minutes. He smiled as he remembered the first three minutes he had earned, so many days ago. All of this, all of this pain and work for one week of time. He pulled it close and looked at the liquid time. It all came down to this: a few precious minutes in which to do something significant. That was life. And it was death as well.

Eduardo urged him to walk faster and as best he could, his legs aching with fatigue, Dom walked between his Guide and his Guardian one last time through the City of Necropolis. They crossed the bridge before most of the crowd had reached it and headed past the Gardens and the Workhouse with its courtyard, mostly empty today, and finally through a part of the City Dom had never seen before. It was only sparsely built, a few houses and apartments, the oldest he had seen, small, squat and wooden, without the black stone or glowing windows of the rest of the City. The road was more roughly cobbled and narrow and eventually they were walking on a dirt path surrounded on either side by fields of grass. The road was straight and at the end he could see the gate and the walls that ringed the City. This gate was also ancient and marked with strange symbols and hieroglyphs that Dominic couldn’t read. They slowed as they reached it, contemplating the gravity of what was ahead.

Eva spoke softly. ‘When you reach the gate you must open it yourself and as you enter you will turn your hourglass. The time will begin immediately to fall through it no matter if you turn it back or not. I can’t tell you what else will happen. As I said, it’s different for everyone, but most of it will be in the book I gave you.’

‘Are you coming with me?’ Dom bit his lip.

She seemed pained. ‘I want to. But I’m a Guide. I have the minutes and I will try, but I don’t know what will happen. I will go first and if I can’t follow you into the Maze . . . then we can say goodbye. Okay?’

It was not okay with Dom at all, and he had no idea what he would actually do if Eva could not come with him.

‘And you?’ He looked up at Eduardo.

The Angel laughed a little, but it was a disconsolate sound. ‘Dominic, I am still waiting . . . there are things . . . I am not ready to let go . . . so I must wait a little longer.’

‘I saw her.’ Dom wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. ‘In your . . . your memories. Maya. I saw her.’

Eduardo sighed.

‘I saw how she looked at you. And I would wait for that too. Forever,’ Dom finished.

The Angel’s eyes were wet. ‘Forever has proved to be a long time, my young friend.’

‘Will you be a Guardian again?’

He laughed more heartily this time. ‘I don’t know. I think perhaps my disguise is no longer anonymous.’

‘Your cover is blown.’ Dom laughed.

‘I like that. My cover. I would need a new cover, I think. Maybe. I don’t know what will be.’ He gestured back towards the City where plumes of smoke were billowing from the Arena. ‘This place was changed today. I was very glad to be a small part of that. Perhaps I can help Necropolis find its future.’

‘Thanks, man. For everything. You’re the best Angel I’ve ever met.’ He held out his hand. The Angel ignored it and gave him a bear hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

‘Good fortune to you, Dominic Mathers. I wish for you luck and love and after today I am sure that you have the makings of both. We will meet again one day, in some other place.’ He turned to Eva. ‘Ah, my Eva, we have been together for many years and only now do we begin to know each other.’

‘And like each other,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you. For . . . well . . .’

He laughed and pulled her into his huge chest. ‘I hope that I do not see you here again. I have made you very angry many times. I enjoyed that immensely.’

She punched his shoulder.

‘Be careful with Anubis. The Guardian of the Maze is not to be trusted. I know you want to find answers, but try to find them without attracting his attention. Nothing is worth that.’ He was suddenly overcome with the emotion of the moment. ‘I will leave you now. You do not need me any longer.’

Dom reached out his arm and tried again. ‘Please. Come with us.’

Eduardo’s face twisted. ‘I am not ready, Dominic. I can’t let go. Not yet.’ He smiled sadly and spread his wings wide, they lifted him into the air and he soared slowly away from them, higher and higher, a smooth, graceful glide until they could no longer see him.

Dom turned to Eva. ‘Are you ready?’

She grinned back at him. ‘As I will ever be.’ She stood on her toes and kissed him again, more slowly this time. ‘Ten thousand minutes alone together . . . we might kill each other.’ She handed him the bag and then, smiling her crooked wry grin, she opened the heavy wooden gate and walked through. Dom could see nothing on the other side but a mirror of the path they had just walked along, another field of short greenish grass, another dark City silhouetted in the distance. Eva looked back at him one last time and then pulled her hourglass from her bag, lifting it in front of her and gently turning it.

They waited for a long inhaled breath and then slowly the silver liquid began to squeeze downwards through the narrow neck. She turned to say something, but the gate swung shut and she was gone. Dom sighed happily. She was through.