her eyes and felt her hands beginning to warm up. Soon she’d be able to strike. Her heart was racing and she felt dizzy, but she was strong enough to do it, to use the blackwater. Harry would see, if he thought she was a helpless little girl, he could think again.
“Listen to me,” Harry whispered urgently. “They’re here. They’re here now . They’ve come for you. I’ll let go of you. But not a sound. If we don’t get rid of them, we’ll be dead in about … let’s see … three minutes. OK?”
What?
“OK?”
She nodded frantically.
Harry let go of her slowly, turning her face towards him, so he could look her in the eye. Her green eyes met his blue ones. She saw that Harry’s expression was steely, tense, ready for the fight.
He’s not lying.
“Where?” she mouthed.
“Listen.”
Scratching. She could hear scratching behind the steel door, and growling, a deep, throaty growling that chilled her blood.
“Is there another way out?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
They looked at each other, and in wordless agreement, they knew what to do. They got up slowly, making no noise. Sarah pointed at the big wooden wardrobe in the corner, a piece of furniture that was six feet high and nearly as wide. Sarah unhooked the silver chain around her neck, and took another key off it, a smaller one. She opened the wardrobe, as quietly as she could. Inside it there was a collection of weapons: James’s arsenal.
Sarah hated that wardrobe, and she hated the weapons in it. She shrugged her shoulders and gestured at them, as if to say your choice.
On both sides of the doors there were some hooks, and two little sgian-dubh in leather pouches were hanging from them. Sgian-dubh , the Scottish name for a ceremonial knife – although for the Midnight men, they were a lot more than just ceremonial. Sarah had often seen her parents putting them back carefully after a hunt. Harry took them off their hooks, handed her one, and kept one for himself.
“Our best bet,” he whispered. “Go open the door, and hide behind it.”
Sarah nodded. Yes, I’ll open the door. No, I won’t hide behind it.
“Can you use your hands?” she whispered.
“I don’t have the blackwater,” he replied quietly. The real Harry didn’t either, so he didn’t have to make up a story. James had inherited it, but Stewart hadn’t, and neither had Harry.
Sarah tip-toed to the door. There was no more scratching, no more growling. Everything seemed quiet. She began to turn the handle, slowly, slowly. The growling started again.
Sarah took a deep breath. Her hands were burning up. She was ready. In one fluid movement, she opened the door and jumped back, just as a black, smooth, liquid creature pounced into the room, aiming straight for her. For a split second, they were face to face. The creature had human features, with watery blue eyes, pale skin and broken veins all over its nose. A middle-aged man’s face.
Then it opened its mouth. It was full of teeth as sharp as a dog’s.
Sarah screamed in horror and let go of her dagger, putting out her hands to use the blackwater. In an endless instant, she realized she had made a bad decision. A very, very bad decision. She should have stepped aside, like Harry had said. She wasn’t ready; it was going to bite her face off …
It’s all lost. Mum, Dad, I’m sorry.
She closed her eyes and waited.
It didn’t come. She heard a thud, and then silence.
She opened her eyes, cautiously. I’m still alive. I’m whole.
The creature was on the floor, Harry’s dagger sticking out of its side.
“Now, Sarah!” he called, shaking her out of her shock.
Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her hands burning, burning … She crouched beside the demon, and put her hands on its head. Now she could see it properly. It had the body of a dog, with hard, black hair and a long tail, and its human face looked sickeningly out of place. Sarah shivered with disgust as its fur started weeping. After a
“Listen to me,” Harry whispered urgently. “They’re here. They’re here now . They’ve come for you. I’ll let go of you. But not a sound. If we don’t get rid of them, we’ll be dead in about … let’s see … three minutes. OK?”
What?
“OK?”
She nodded frantically.
Harry let go of her slowly, turning her face towards him, so he could look her in the eye. Her green eyes met his blue ones. She saw that Harry’s expression was steely, tense, ready for the fight.
He’s not lying.
“Where?” she mouthed.
“Listen.”
Scratching. She could hear scratching behind the steel door, and growling, a deep, throaty growling that chilled her blood.
“Is there another way out?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
They looked at each other, and in wordless agreement, they knew what to do. They got up slowly, making no noise. Sarah pointed at the big wooden wardrobe in the corner, a piece of furniture that was six feet high and nearly as wide. Sarah unhooked the silver chain around her neck, and took another key off it, a smaller one. She opened the wardrobe, as quietly as she could. Inside it there was a collection of weapons: James’s arsenal.
Sarah hated that wardrobe, and she hated the weapons in it. She shrugged her shoulders and gestured at them, as if to say your choice.
On both sides of the doors there were some hooks, and two little sgian-dubh in leather pouches were hanging from them. Sgian-dubh , the Scottish name for a ceremonial knife – although for the Midnight men, they were a lot more than just ceremonial. Sarah had often seen her parents putting them back carefully after a hunt. Harry took them off their hooks, handed her one, and kept one for himself.
“Our best bet,” he whispered. “Go open the door, and hide behind it.”
Sarah nodded. Yes, I’ll open the door. No, I won’t hide behind it.
“Can you use your hands?” she whispered.
“I don’t have the blackwater,” he replied quietly. The real Harry didn’t either, so he didn’t have to make up a story. James had inherited it, but Stewart hadn’t, and neither had Harry.
Sarah tip-toed to the door. There was no more scratching, no more growling. Everything seemed quiet. She began to turn the handle, slowly, slowly. The growling started again.
Sarah took a deep breath. Her hands were burning up. She was ready. In one fluid movement, she opened the door and jumped back, just as a black, smooth, liquid creature pounced into the room, aiming straight for her. For a split second, they were face to face. The creature had human features, with watery blue eyes, pale skin and broken veins all over its nose. A middle-aged man’s face.
Then it opened its mouth. It was full of teeth as sharp as a dog’s.
Sarah screamed in horror and let go of her dagger, putting out her hands to use the blackwater. In an endless instant, she realized she had made a bad decision. A very, very bad decision. She should have stepped aside, like Harry had said. She wasn’t ready; it was going to bite her face off …
It’s all lost. Mum, Dad, I’m sorry.
She closed her eyes and waited.
It didn’t come. She heard a thud, and then silence.
She opened her eyes, cautiously. I’m still alive. I’m whole.
The creature was on the floor, Harry’s dagger sticking out of its side.
“Now, Sarah!” he called, shaking her out of her shock.
Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her hands burning, burning … She crouched beside the demon, and put her hands on its head. Now she could see it properly. It had the body of a dog, with hard, black hair and a long tail, and its human face looked sickeningly out of place. Sarah shivered with disgust as its fur started weeping. After a
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