“What do you mean, you won’t?” Shaw glared at Damon across the kitchen.
Caught between the two of them, Ines tried to back quietly out but instead knocked the dishes on the draining board. She froze, not wanting to draw any more attention.
“I think it’s self-explanatory,“ Damon said coldly. “It was one thing to take on demonic magic. Sinking into their politics is too far.”
“They could be fighting for us,” Shaw said. “You said it yourself—all you have to do is accept your title as lord, and they’ll do whatever you want.”
“For now,” Damon said. “But that title comes at a price. Part of that price is letting them dictate the terms of this.”
“Terms where they do what we want.”
“Terms where people do what I say because of who I was born, because of some title I’ve been given, not because I’ve asked them and they choose to side with me.”
“You’re rejecting the power because it’s power?” Shaw looked baffled and more than a little angry.
“I’m refusing because of the sort of power it is.”
Damon’s fingers twitched, his pocket watch dancing back and forth across the back of his hand. After months spent so intensely in each other’s company, Ines could see that he was as angry and frustrated as Shaw but keeping it inside.
The mage took two angry strides across the room and flung open the door. A sound like distant thunder reached them, despite the clear skies outside.
“You hear that?” she said. “That’s artillery. Right now, some little village no one’s ever heard of is a battlefield. It’s being torn to shreds by Brancepeth-Holmes’s lunatic royalists and the riled-up Scots. A few days from now, Bear Park won’t be a village—it’ll be a string of ruins and craters full of dead bodies. We can’t afford to piss about, asking nicely, especially where demons are concerned. We need everything we have to end this.”
“Someone always says that the end justifies the means.” Damon’s voice was low and menacing, his eyes going black as he let his power show. “But every moment is an end for someone, and every moment is a means towards the ones that follow. I won’t continue a tradition I revile. There will be another way.”
There was a knock. They all turned to see Jason standing in the door to the hallway, glancing nervously between them.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I think this might be urgent.”
“Go ahead,” Shaw said, still glaring at Damon. “Maybe whatever’s happened now will bring Mr. Lorus to his senses.”
“I picked up a message,” Jason said. “Someone a couple of miles out of town using an old radio set. There are refugees in a church near Bear Park. They can’t leave without risking being fired at, and they’re afraid that if they stay, they might get hit by a stray shell. I was thinking we could maybe rescue them?”
“Come on,” Ines said, glad of an excuse to draw her friends out of their argument. “Let’s go remind ourselves that we’re all the good guys.”
There was no traffic on the roads out of Durham, and so they had a clear run out. They’d taken the bus from a depot on North Road, near the viaduct. Unlike a convoy of cars, it would let most of them fight off any attacks while Jason drove, and give them space for an unknown number of refugees.
Ines was amazed at the young mage’s confidence behind the wheel. Even driving something so unwieldy, he flung them around corners and raced across junctions, his sensory magic giving him a better grasp of what was needed than any ordinary driver. It made for a bumpy ride, but one that was never as dangerous as it felt.
More unsettling were the figures that watched them as they passed. No humans showed their faces, but the ghostly shapes of demons hovered over every house and hedgerow, reaching out towards the travelers, hungry for the extra moment of rage or pain that would let them break through into the world. The nearby battle had drawn them from all over, like flies to a rotting corpse.
Ines sat near the front of the bus, kitchen knife strapped to her forearm, carrying a broom handle as an improvised club. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to a fight—she didn’t fancy her chances against soldiers with guns. But better safe than sorry.
Behind her sat Rumiel and Damon, and beside her, Tania, one of the mages who had turned up over the past few days. Simms and Murphy were doing well at recruiting Ministry mages.
Short and bubbly, Tania specialized in plant magic, which could be used to turn trees and hedgerows into barricades if there was trouble.
“Nearly there,” Jason said as they raced through an empty-looking village. “I’ll drop you off then turn around in the car park. I don’t think we’re—” He frowned. “Something isn’t right. I can’t sense—”
Suddenly, the road in front of them heaved upwards, tarmac rising to block their path. Their brakes squealed, and the whole bus tipped, skidding to a halt just before they would have slammed into the blockade.
“It’s an ambush!” Ines exclaimed, pointing out of the window.
Men and women in grey suits emerged from the terrace houses on either side of the road. Ministry mages, with clubs and shields of glowing magic in their hands. And in the middle of the street, blond hair pinned up above her elegant pinstripe suit, stood Elizabeth Oldfield.
“We have to get out of here,” Damon said. He stood, one hand gripping a luggage rack, the other holding out his pocket watch.
“What of the people in that church?” Rumiel asked.
“If they exist, then I’m the prince of peace,” Damon said. “It was a lie to draw us here.”
Rumiel frowned. “We cannot know that for certain.”
“Damon’s right,” Ines said. “Jason, drive!”
There was a crunch of gears as Jason flung the bus into reverse, backing right up to the terraces behind them. As he turned the wheel, windows smashed and mages leapt in, spells carrying them and sheltering them from the flying glass.
Swinging her broomstick, Ines ran back down the bus. Her shoulder slammed into the shield of the nearest mage, pain running down her arm, but she pushed on, knocking him to the ground. Before he could find his bearings, she kicked him in the crotch, causing him to grunt and curl up in pain.
To her right, Rumiel vaulted the seats, flaming sword stretched out in front of him. There was a flash of light as his weapon clashed with that carried by a mage. To the left, the air crackled as other attackers countered Damon’s spells.
The bus jolted into movement. The ground shifting beneath them, the combatants went tumbling over each other. Ines’s world became a confusing mass of flailing limbs, flashing magic, and bursts of pain. She caught a glimpse of Tania charging in with a shield raised, of Damon’s fist flashing black as he threw a punch, and of Rumiel flying out through a broken window and then back in again.
A screech of rending metal and a scream of pain drew Ines’s attention to the front of the bus. The driver’s door had been ripped off, and the metal behind it was shredded as if attacked by a frenzied beast. In the gap, Elizabeth Oldfield hung from the outside of the speeding vehicle, clinging with one hand to the ceiling. Glowing claws extended from her other hand, and she was slashing at Jason, blood flying each time she caught his arm.
The bus veered wildly to one side as their driver lost control in his moment of pain, but then he righted them and kept them racing down the road.
Throwing off the mage she had been fighting, Ines ran towards the fight at the front. She flung her improvised club like a javelin, catching Oldfield in the shoulder, and for a moment, the woman ceased her attack while she struggled not to fall off.
Outside the bus, demons flocked in a growing crowd, the anger and pain letting them take their final step into the human world. Some were masses of spikes, others of tentacles. There were giant beetles and things like half-melted lizards.
“Damon, get them on our side!” Ines shouted, pointing at the foul creatures.
“I am Damon, son of Chron!” her friend shouted. “Will any of you aid us?”
“Are you a lord, Chron-spawn?” a thing with dozens of eyes said as it leaned in through the broken glass. “Do you bear right of command?”
As Damon hesitated, the creature cackled madly and flew away.
Drawing her knife, Ines clambered over the seats, trying to reach Oldfield.
“I know you, little Salgado,” Oldfield yelled over the noises of the engine, demons, and magical combat. “You don’t have the heart to use that on me.”
“You think?” There was blood all over the seats, and Jason’s skin was pale. Ines remembered her father lying injured in Manchester, the fight at the station there, and all the other times this woman’s actions had put people around her at risk.
But she had never killed a human being, and she didn’t plan to start now.
Lunging forward, she grabbed the arm with which Oldfield was clinging to the bus. Squeezing as tight as she could, she dug her nails in, for once wishing that they were long like those of other girls at school.
Oldfield flinched and flailed around with her other hand. Ines twisted to dodge the claws, but they caught Jason again, leaving a slash in the side of his neck.
Swinging with all her might, Ines punched Oldfield in the face. The mage yelped and let go of the bus, falling away to the side of the road.
They were nearly back in Durham, heading up a hill that would come out near the viaduct. Ines placed her hands against the wounds on Jason’s neck and shoulder, pressing hard to staunch the flow of blood. Glancing back, she saw Rumiel fling the last mage out through the back window of the bus. Damon was crouched on the floor, and she couldn’t see Tania.
“This,” Jason whispered. “This will have to do.”
The bus slowed.
“Keep going,” Ines begged. “Just a little longer, and we’ll be home. Someone there can help you. It’ll be all right.”
“Tired.” Jason rolled his head to the side, his cold cheek pressing against the back of her hand. “Too tired.”
His hands slipped from the steering wheel as the bus ground to a halt.
“No!” Ines scrambled around, unfastened his belt, and dragged him down into the street. Frantically, she tore off her T-shirt and shredded strips from it, wrapping improvised bandages around the mage’s wounds. She pressed her fingers to his neck, but if there was a pulse, it was too weak to find. His chest had stopped moving, and no breath emerged from between his lips.
“Come on.” She pressed his chest and blew into his mouth, desperately trying CPR. “Breathe.”
“I am most sorry.” With a firm hand, Rumiel pulled her away from the body. “It is too late. He is in Heaven now.”
“No!” Ines slammed her fists against his chest. “It’s not too late! It’s not!”
Her protestations giving way to sobbing, she leaned against Rumiel’s chest for a moment. As he moved to wrap his arms around her, she stepped back, looking over to see Damon descending from the bus. He was holding Tania in his arms, showing more strength than she’d thought he had. The air around the mage was a dark haze. Her arm was twisted strangely, and a long shard of glass was sticking up from her stomach.
“We have to get back,” Damon said. “I don’t know how long I can freeze time around her, and things will get bad quickly when that ends.”
Rumiel scooped up Jason’s body as if he were lifting a child. Grimly, they set off toward home.