The atmosphere felt charged with electricity and, unable to contain themselves, the watch creatures began to howl and whoop as they waited for the showdown to begin. Their cacophonous din filled Billy’s head, making it difficult to think.
As the noise and excitement reached fever pitch, the Magician raised a hand and the creatures fell silent.
‘Bring them here,’ he said, and a werehound herded a small group of night-children towards them. Billy started – it was his friends, the Runners. They had been caught too. And then one of the werehounds loped forward and dropped Tom – ashen-faced – on the ground.
The Magician began to circle Billy, like a stalking tiger.
‘Take a good look at your friend,’ he said to the Runners with a sneer. ‘Behold the pathetic whelp who thought he could save you.’
The Runners didn’t say anything, but simply stared at Billy with wide, petrified eyes. He felt helpless and humiliated.
‘He thought he was going to save you all,’ shouted the Magician, sweeping his arm towards the crowds of night-children lining the perimeter wall. ‘He told you he remembers another home, but that is not possible – this is his home. He said he has a name other than the number I gave him.’
The Magician bent down and put his face close to Billy’s. His breath felt cold, like the air from a damp cellar, and smelled of rotting leaves. It made Billy’s skin crawl.
‘So, what is this special name, boy?’ he scoffed.
Billy was too scared to speak. He looked to his friends for help. Lightning stared back full of hope, but Billy’s mind felt completely blank.
‘Tell us your name,’ the Magician screamed, and suddenly all Billy could think of was a series of numbers.
‘I am 5126!’ he cried.
‘Again. We didn’t hear you,’ the Magician yelled triumphantly.
‘I am 5126,’ Billy sobbed out loud, feeling utterly defeated. ‘My name is 5126!’