We stopped at the small hotel Ben had selected for His Grace’s safety. It was cosy, old and no lights shone from the outside. A good cover. I got out of the car with Hardigan. I didn’t want this to take too long.

“Ben will probably be awake,” I told him, leaning over to sign the slip that the driver handed me. He was on retainer with the Agency, but this meant that using his services had to be signed off.

“Is that him?” Hardigan asked.

I straightened, glancing at who the professor was pointing at. It was nearing dawn, too late for anyone to be out and about.

It wasn’t Ben. Two men in neat suits came toward us; they had stepped out of a clanking, clicking vehicle ticking like a clock. Another one of the clockwork beasts running on steam or electricity. Neither man was small; they were uniform in their matching gait and attire. Black gloves, hats, coats and sharply shined shoes, fresh out of the military, short haircuts each. They might have been brothers but for the man on the left was blonde and the man on the right was ebon haired.

They didn’t speak. Instead they stepped between myself and Hardigan and grabbed me around either shoulder.

I started, throwing myself down and wriggling out of a grip that hadn’t quite asserted itself and then wrenching away. “What the Devil do you think you are doing?”

“Come with us, Ma’am,” Blondie demanded. He and his partner moved violently toward me once more; faster, harder than before.

Ebony grabbed my shoulder and tore my coat as I peeled away. Anger flashed on his face and he drew a baton from his side, swinging at me.

I took the blunt of the baton and staggered with the force of the hit.

Blondie grabbed me in a bear-hug, lifting my feet off the ground, despite my shriek, and wrapping his massive hands around my arms. A woman of my small size and insignificant muscles was at a disadvantage in wrestling.

A hand clapped over my mouth. I bit down and wriggled—professor Hardigan brought his wooden case down on Ebony’s head—shouting loudly.

The dark-haired man drew a gun from his pocket next, levelled it at the professor. “Back off or I shoot you, old man.”

Hardigan froze.

Blondie hissed, wrenching his bleeding hand from my mouth, and then his fist collided with my jaw.

Red lights exploded around the world.

I was dazed. I’d never been hit so hard in the face. It hurt more than I had expected, and I lost what little traction I had.

The next moment, I was thrown into the backseat of a car.

They slammed the door closed and slid in while I was still trying to get my wits about me.

Blondie slid into the seat next to me, grabbing my ankle as I thrust my leg out to hit him in the chin. My boot didn’t even clear his fist.

I pulled on the Ether, fire rolling out of my fingertips now; shadows fell out of Blondie’s hands, closing around the flame and smothering it. A Tenebrologist.

Not good.

He punched me again. Hard.

I hit the side of the car door as the vehicle roared around a corner and my stomach lurched. Blood trickled down from my nose, smearing across my mouth and dripping from my chin. Any law enforcement in such circumstance knows there is a good probability of being killed when thugs nab you off the street. Fighting as hard as I could now might be my only chance at escape shortly.

“Settle down, or I’ll have to hurt you, bitch.”

I snarled and turned to him, blood smearing across my cheek. I drew up Ether and made a blade, a small knife for a confined space.

I stabbed at Blondie; he was faster. A fist hurtled across the small space and smacked the back of my wrist so hard I lost all feeling in the limb. He caught the knife, then stabbed it through my hand and into the seat of the car.

It didn’t hurt at first; my blood was up and I was focused on survival. But the sudden shock did force me to pause for a beat or two. Pain came later—I tasted blood on my lips. Copper filling my mouth from the blood pouring out of my nose. The dull throb of the broken nose was spreading across my face, making my eyes water and the world waver in and out of a crimson haze.

The pain that spread up my hand to my shoulder to my head was enough to drown that out.

“Jesus, Anthony,” Ebony said. He was watching us in the backseat, but not helping.

“She bit me, Greg.”

I was struggling to breathe. Clamping down on the pain was one thing, but I didn’t know what these muggers wanted. I needed to get out of the car. “What do you want?”

Greg shook his head, although I could barely see the motion. “We been hired to get you, that’s what we done. Sit still and we won’t have to smack you around again.”

“Who hired you? Where are you taking me?”

Anthony backhanded me into the door again and I fell silent, watching my blood drip from the window.

There was no traffic, and we left Piccadilly. We were approaching Somerstown—the University College was here—where clankers did their research and investigations into the mysteries of steam and clockwork technology.

I took a moment or two to gather myself. What I was about to do would hurt and I needed to be ready for the shock and the pain.

I waited, pensively, watching the dark streets, until I saw the outline of the University College rising out of the apartments and buildings like a beacon.

The car slowed as we came to a turn.

I released the knife, melting it back into the Ether. Freeing my hand from the seat, I slammed my good arm into the door, pulling the handle sharply. The door swung open and I jumped out.

The men shouted.

I hit the ground rolling, my arms curled and legs pulled in.

The impact jarred me, pain flaring through every sense down my back, and I rolled like a wheel. Charlie and I had once tumbled down hills like this as children, and I let that instinct guide me, curling into a ball and rolling until the momentum of the car dispersed.

I was battered and bruised, but everything was working when I staggered to my feet. The car screamed to a stop, skidding in the dark just ahead of me.

My body hurt more than I wanted it to, and my coat was ripped and torn. I wiped blood from my mouth and lumbered to the sidewalk. A few seconds later, I got my feet working again and started running.

I could hear them yelling, and a gun barked in the night; the bullet hit the wall a few metres from me.

I ran.