The sun glittered off the gold cross topping the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. A platform had been erected outside the monumental front doors of the cathedral, and camera crews were making their final checks in readiness for Commissioner Lewis’s speech. An expectant crowd had gathered around the entrance steps and was spilling all the way into Cannon Street. Due to the crowd size and increased threat levels, security contractors had been brought in to bolster police numbers. Not only Londoners but also the rest of the country were waiting expectantly to hear what the chief of police might have to say about the recent unrest.
Mary pressed forward into the throng of people, a sense of fear clawing at her stomach. The energy was getting stronger; it was real and powerful, and it was coming from inside the cathedral. A growing sense of desolation began to move through her. Enoch Hart had warned her. She could hear his words in her head. ‘The time of the Reckoning is coming,’ he had said.
Her muscles stiffened as she looked up at the looming portico facade of Wren’s masterwork. She had to get closer. The black dog by her side growled a path through the crowd. Mary elbowed forward as best she could, and people shrank away at the sight and smell of a grimy homeless woman crashing into their personal space.
The audience closest to the stage broke out into a blast of enthusiastic applause. The noise swelled through the crowd and was joined by a chorus of shrill whistles. Flanked by Lambton and the Muslim and Church of England representatives, Commissioner Lewis walked onto the platform. He paused and looked out at the sea of people. He allowed himself a brief moment of reflection before moving towards the lectern at the centre of the platform.
Several jeering voices and shrill whistles echoed around the entrance to the cathedral as Lewis approached the lectern. He retrieved his speech from his inside jacket pocket and laid the pages out before him. He tapped the microphone and the crowd fell silent, feeling the weight of the moment hang heavy in the air. The Commissioner reshuffled his notes and then began his speech. A storm of camera flashes went off around him.
From her position in the crowd, Mary struggled to see anything but the backs of people’s heads. However, as a burst of applause sounded out in front of her, a gap opened up and offered her a partial sightline to the stage. It was like a sudden electrical shock to Mary’s body. Her muscles seized and she trapped a cry in her throat. A feeling of dread gripped her.
She had seen auras around people since she was a girl, but the seething black aura around the stage was terrifying. She had seen something like it before, flowing around the possessed body of industrialist Ema Mats, the woman she shot dead in a secret crypt deep under the dome of St Paul’s. But the aura surrounding the stage was even more intense, even more startling in its manifestation. The ragged darkness circulating around the platform was the blackest she had ever seen; a thick, pulsing protoplasm.
Suddenly Mary felt an intense burning sensation next to her hip. She screamed out in pain. Instinctively, she twisted her body away from the source of the heat. Her head shot down to her smoking coat pocket. A gap quickly opened up around her, and people elbowed themselves out of the way, panicked by the smell of singed material. The long, rod-like object was now red hot and burning a hole in the lining of her coat. Without thinking, Mary slid her body out of the oversized coat and dropped it to the ground. Behind her, she heard the frantic voices of people.
On the stage, security men were pointing towards Mary in the crowd. The head of security held his earpiece and started talking into his wrist. Soon after, three burly men were pushing into the crowd in Mary’s direction, shouting ‘Security!’ with urgency. People moved out of the way as best they could. In a matter of seconds, the security agents were picking up a pace as a clear route opened up in front of them.
Mary ignored the circle of agitated people looking at her with panicked expressions on their faces. Her coat was on the ground, the Rod glowing hot in its thick folds. She picked at the material, turning the coat to get a better view of it. There it was, the top third of Aaron’s Rod poking out from the pocket, the jewels encrusting its surface faintly pulsing with light. Her skin prickled with apprehension.
She straightened herself, her eyes moving like a radar around the circle of the people near her. The black dog snapped at the air, as the edge of the crowd began to swell.
Yards away, the three security men advanced quickly towards Mary. They were pushing hard against the crowd to open up a channel. Mary looked through the parting crowd in a rapid search. Then she saw them, elbowing their way through. They were almost upon her.
Mary’s face filled with alarm as they burst through the circle of people. The lead security man was a bruiser of a man, well over six feet tall and thuggish in appearance. The other two were fierce-looking and had similar rock-solid physiques. After first fanning out, they moved towards her at speed.
Mary spun around on her heels and sidestepped the outstretched grasp of the lead man. She lost her balance and stumbled forward. There was a rush of air at the back of her head and then a pain around her ribs. Before Mary could snatch a breath, her kicking feet were lifted off the ground in a crushing bear hug. She writhed frantically in the man’s massive arms, but her resistance was useless against his vice-like grip.
‘Get her out of here,’ shouted the leader. He turned and spoke calmly to the gob-smacked crowd. ‘The drama is over,’ he said in a dismissive tone. ‘We’re coming back through. Can you please make a space?’ He spoke into his radio. ‘We’ve got her. We’re bringing her in.’ His radio crackled back a reply.
Out of nowhere, a lightning-quick blur streaked across the ground. With a heavy thud it slammed into the thick leg of the man holding Mary. At first there was little reaction, just a slight stumble backwards. A second later the man gave out a scream that exploded skywards. As the black dog twisted its jaws into the man’s calf, the scream intensified.
With a few deft twists of her body, Mary dropped to the ground. The dog released its bite, sending its front paws slapping onto the concrete. It snarled like a wild animal, with large strands of bloody drool hanging from its exposed teeth. The bitten man howled in pain as a wet glossy slick expanded quickly across the leg of his black trousers.
The dog advanced towards the other two men and backed them into a corner. With one quick movement, Mary scooped up her coat, balled past a man wearing a Brazilian football shirt, and pushed her way into the crowd. Like a bullet, the dog disappeared into the gap that Mary had just opened up in the wall of people.
Moments later the lead security man was screaming orders into his radio. Without waiting for a reply, he started running in pursuit. Almost immediately he stuttered to a stop. Lying on the ground, where the coat of the vagrant woman had just been, lay a large ruby.
From a lighting gantry above the stage, the dark iris of a raven surveyed the scene below.