Mara collapses.
Beside him, Rose’s face twists in shock. She crouches over the body, clasps Mara’s shoulder and shakes him. A gurgling sigh escapes his throat, but then he lies still.
‘You killed him,’ Rose murmurs, but she doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is fixed on the Reverend.
I realise I’m almost as shocked as she is. The magic bullet didn’t do anything a normal bullet wouldn’t. It smashed open his skull and now he’s on the floor, a pool of blood widening around his body, and there’s no way he’s getting up.
No way he’s a god.
The stories were bogus. It didn’t matter how much Mara believed them, how much he wanted to become supreme leader of the known universe. The bullet did its thing and Mara responded in the way anybody would. By being made totally and utterly dead.
Turns out you can’t believe everything you hear.
Mara’s men look at each other like they don’t know what to do. Cut off the monster’s head and its tentacles get all confused.
I struggle to my feet and one of the ninjas goes for me. He gets in a good blow to my jaw but I’m so beaten up now I barely feel it. I hit him with the Crook Spear and he hits the floor face first.
I grit my teeth. ‘We’re getting out of here, and you’re going to let us.’
The remaining ninjas look from me to Rose but she’s wilted over the body and clearly making decisions is above their pay grade. They lower their weapons.
Grimacing, I shamble over to Bolt and put my arm around his waist, shouldering his weight. I’m not gonna lie, I’m tense all the way to the door, half expecting one of the ninjas to lodge a throwing star in one of our backs, but then we’re through the door and outside and the fresh rain is cool on my skin.
‘So much for a magic bullet,’ I mutter, still clutching the Crook Spear in my free hand. I tuck it into the back of my jeans.
‘I thought you were going to shoot me,’ Bolt says.
‘So did I.’
He shakes his head, half smiling. ‘You’re nuts.’
‘Don’t make me regret saving you.’
‘Saving me? You almost shot me!’
‘Almost. Let’s just get out of here,’ I say. Bolt leans against my shoulder and we hobble away from the warehouse, away from Mara and the pit, and I turn my face into the rain, thinking of butterflies and spears and my mother.