Silence in Canada Water.
Lights still burned within the great glass towers and on the streets; their reflections wavered in the water lapping against the quayside.
In Burns and Stoke the lights shone brightest of all. In another life Sharon had stared skywards at these shining glass walls and watched the tiny people move about, each in their office, unseen by their colleagues but on display to the world, like a life lived in a computer game. Now no one up there was visible. But she knew they were waiting.
Sharon turned to her motley crew, huddled on a bench and perched on the concrete rocks of the little strip of garden between the bus stops.
“Right,” she said. “It’s very simple. Me, Rhys and Mr Roding, we’re gonna find all the spirits that Burns and Stoke have trapped, and set ’em free. Gretel, Kevin and Edna, you’re gonna try and find these sacrifice thingies that Eddie was talking about. Sally is gonna be air support in case of shit going down–have you got your mobile phone?”
Yes, Sharon. It is fully charged and I have set its ringtone to “Urgent klaxon”.
“Cool. Chris, Jess and Jeff are gonna stay out here in case something shitty happens, in which case you phone someone or call the police or something. Jeff has got sandwiches and a first-aid kit. Jess is also possible air support.”
“You make it all sound very simple,” fumed Mr Roding, “but I really don’t think ‘We’re gonna find all the spirits’ is a sound tactical plan. When I was speaking to the corpses in Vietnam, I learned a lot about—”
“Excuse me,” offered Gretel, cutting through Mr Roding before he could reach his oratorical climax. “Do you think we’re going to have to hurt people? Only trolls have a very bad reputation and I don’t want to sully my community’s name.”
“Uh… try not to hurt people,” offered Sharon. “But if you must, maybe apologise and leave them a number they can call afterwards?”
“Where’s the Midnight Mayor and Mrs Rafaat in all this?” demanded Mr Roding. “I don’t see them trying to break out the trapped spirits of the city, do you?”
Sharon fixed Mr Roding with the stare of all good officers faced with irredeemable troops. Mr Roding, to her surprise, cowered a little.
“Swift, Sammy and Mrs Rafaat are in the centre of town waiting for Dog to reappear. Since he only does this in the dead of night, he might be a little while. But as soon as he does turn up, the Midnight Mayor, protector of… stuff… along with the third–second!–greatest shaman the world has ever seen, are gonna power on over here with the mortal form of Greydawn and a furry killing machine. Questions?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the furry killing machine?” offered Rhys.
“You want to wait for a monster that only Mrs Rafaat can control,” grumbled Mr Roding, “which has killed half a dozen men in a month, and get it to do the hard work while its mistress, who has been hunted by killer builders and angry claws for the last two years, sits around with a sign stamped on her forehead saying ENSORCEL ME NOW–is that your suggestion?”
“Mr Roding is right,” said Sharon, doing her best not to glare at anyone. “The longer the city goes without Mrs Rafaat, the worse things will be and the better Mr Ruislip’s chance of working out who she really is. Now I figure that Burns and Stoke know we’ve gotta be coming. So, we’re gonna use the element of surprise.”
“Uh, babes, how exactly are we going to do that?” asked Kevin.
“I figured we’d ask the way at Reception.”