Yoshi witnesses the brute’s boot scramble through the hatch, and wonders if he’ll make it to safety himself. The chaos behind him is closing in. It sounds like a riot in a barnyard, and can be heard fanning wide across the Map Room. All this squealing can’t hide the crash of bookcases as these marauding ogres scale the walls. As they’re guided by their snouts and vaulted ears, he rules out simply hiding. His chance of reaching the hatch unharmed is slim, but it’s his only option now. The boy dares to glimpse over his shoulder, sees furious, sightless creatures flocking over the table. Papers and documents spread into the air, as does Yoshi when his foot meets the first step to the hatch.
“Oh, no!”
For a moment, he lies helpless and spreadeagled on the deckplate. His pursuers are almost upon him, when a familiar glow washes down the steps. He looks up, thinking Livia must have come to his rescue, only to find a pair of bare and leathery feet in front of his nose.
“You saved my skin, sir!” cries Jenks Junior, his aura burning fiercely. “It’s high time I saved yours!”
“Get in here now!” Mikhail appeals to them through the hatch. “Watch out, Yoshi!”
He looks back, sees the elder advancing through the pack. With a snarl as much as a squeal, the wretch draws his butcher’s knife from the string of his bloodstained apron. He raises it high overhead, baring sharpened, mismatched teeth. Instinctively, Yoshi rolls to avoid the downswing, and gasps at the sound of the blade tip striking the step.
“Why must everything die at your hands?” Jenks Junior demands to know, with both ears pinned back in anger. “I’ll not allow the same fate to happen here.”
The elder simply grunts, and glowers at the boy sprawled before him. The knife glints in Jenks Junior’s aura, which then brightens so intensely that Yoshi is forced to shield his eyes. “If there’s bloodshed,” Jenks says quietly, seemingly unaware that his aura looks set to explode, “it will be yours.”
Unaffected by the glare, the elder simply shoots out one hand and grabs Jenks Junior by one ear. “Enough!” it seethes, and lifts its victim clean off his feet. Jenks’s aura flickers and dims, as he struggles in vain to be free. “You were born wrong,” the elder snarls. “I should’ve finished you at birth!”
Yoshi can see what’s coming, but it’s too late. With a roar, the elder flings poor Jenks against the bunker wall. The little thing slams against the riveted panelling with a grimace, and simply drops to the steps. There, his aura flickers for a moment and then dies.
“Get inside, my friend!”
Mikhail’s voice brings Yoshi to his senses. This time, he scrambles for the steps, scooping the limp body into his arms along the way. He can hear the elder right behind him, and simply throws himself through the open hatch. “He isn’t breathing,” howls Yoshi, releasing the lifeless bundle from his arms. Mikhail slams the hatch shut, and tightens the wheel until it won’t move any more. Blows can be heard raining down from the outside, but the party are deaf to that now. All eyes are on the piggy-looking boy named Jenks Junior. Julius, Livia and Mikhail crouch around him, panting heavily. Even Aleister betrays a hint of concern, dropping down to feel for a pulse. After a moment he bows his bald head, and retreats to check the hatch.
“Magick may be capable of many things, but resurrecting the dead is not one of them.”
As the hammering on the door continues, joined now by the sound of a baying mob tearing up the old man’s precious study, only Mikhail stops looking so defeated and forlorn.
“Would everyone stand back a moment,” he says, and blows into his palms. He rubs his hands together, waiting for the first person to oblige. “You guys may know your hocus-pocus, but it’s time you saw a master at work.”
“This is no time for street magic,” sighs Yoshi.
Mikhail silences him with one finger. “If I can revive a fly, I’m sure I can do the same thing here.”
“But that was just an illusion,” pleads Yoshi, in no mood for tricks.
“What have we got to lose?” Mikhail addresses them all, clearly determined to see this through. “Now give me some space.”
Reluctantly, Yoshi moves away from the body of Jenks Junior. A lump builds in his throat. He trades a glance with Aleister, still reluctant to trust the brute.
“For all the trouble this has caused,” the boy says, speaking up to be heard over the racket from outside, “I’m afraid the seventh waypoint didn’t work for me. I laid my hands upon it, and nothing happened.”
For the first time since Yoshi had set eyes upon him, Aleister listens with a hint of compassion in his eyes. “Had you remained at the Foundation, and finished the programme with me,” he replies, “I might have taught you to unlock any waypoint of your choosing.”
“But Jenks only had to touch it for all kind of crazy things to kick off, and he’s had no training at all.”
Aleister’s expression darkens mournfully, even if he does mask it with a kind smile. It serves to soften the nature of his face, thinks Yoshi for a brief moment. Makes him look more like someone on his wavelength.
“Then we’ve lost a very special individual.”
Yoshi flattens his lips, and then turns to find Mikhail cradling the boy’s head in his lap. The young Russian takes a deep breath, pinches Jenks’ snout, and then dips down to exhale into his mouth.
“The kiss of life,” says Livia, cottoning on to what he has planned. “That isn’t magic. It’s basic first aid!”
“If it works,” adds Yoshi, “it’ll be a miracle.”
Every few seconds, Mikhai breaks off and pumps Jenks’s barrel chest. The others watch and wait, barely breathing themselves. Eventually, Livia touches Mikhail on the shoulder.
“You’ve tried your best,” she says. “But it’s just too late.”
“No it isn’t,” he mutters, and dips down to breathe for him again. This time, a ribbon of light swims around Jenks’ shoulders.
“There!” pipes Julius. “His aura is returning.”
Mikhail switches from the boy’s mouth to his chest once again. A moment later, a splutter leaves Jenks’s wide pink lips, followed by a cough and a squealing intake of breath.
“You did it!” cries Yoshi, and claps Mikhail on the back.
“I’m impressed,” adds Aleister. “Perhaps you could show me how it’s done some time.”
Mikhail simply sits back with a pinched look on his face. “My lips taste of bacon,” he tells them, and scrapes his tongue across the sleeve of his shirt. “Yuk.”
Their laughter doesn’t last long, however. Not when something strikes the flywheel so hard from the outside that it punches a dent into it.
“They won’t rest,” says Jenks Junior weakly. “Once the hunt is on, it can only end one way.”
Nobody answers, for the very thought is too grim to put into words. Finally, Mikhail says: “Why don’t we just leave through the buckled bars?”
Just then, the bunker intercom crackles into life, and Billy No-Beard’s voice echoes through the gangways and stairwells. “Guys,” he begins, “if you can hear us could you join us on the Bridge at the double? In approximately thirty seconds, I’m going to be forced to put us on lockdown in here.”
The flywheel takes another battering just then. This time accompanied by the sound of scrabbling, which can be heard all around. Julius is the first to respond, facing everyone now. “For the first time in her history,” he announces, sounding genuinely alarmed, “this bunker is about to be breached!”