Mark Chadbourn - Destroyer of Worlds

For much of the evening, Church and Ruth had been involved in intense conversation, but they broke off to join Veitch as he made his way over to Shavi and Mallory.

'You know how to throw a good party,' Church said.

'One of the perks when you get your own Great Court,' Mallory replied.

'I still can't believe the Tuatha De Danaan let you take over.' Ruth laughed.

'They owed me big time.'

Church surveyed the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons with pride. 'They seem like a great crew, from what I can tell. Brave, fierce — we'll do well with them on our side.'

'Would you expect the Pendragon Spirit to choose any other?' Shavi said.

'You think they're formidable, you wait till you see the gods,' Mallory said with a sly smile. 'Norse, Greek, Chinese, the whole terrifying, insane collection.'

'Where are they?' Ruth asked.

'We've got them in their own separate camps outside the city walls. If you think the Tuatha De Danaan are fractious when they get together, you really don't want to see this lot mixing with time on their hands. They'd be at each other's throats in a second.'

'Imagine them side by side on the battlefield,' Church said. 'Whatever troops the Void can throw at us are going to be up against it.'

'As long as our lot don't kill each other first.'

The revelry was disrupted by the crash of the main door slamming open. In staggered Ronnie Kelly, a Brother of Dragons in a field uniform from the Great War, his expression devastated. He flailed for a moment before raising his hands in a silent plea. They were covered in blood.

'Murder,' he eventually stuttered. 'There's been a murder!'

The band came to a sudden halt. Church, Veitch and Mallory raced towards Ronnie before the others realised what he was saying. In one of the branching corridors off the main approach to the hall, a woman in a pink satin Georgian dress was sprawled, eyes wide open. A neat hole had been punched in the centre of her forehead.

'Marie,' Mallory mouthed. All he could think of was her accusation the previous day that he had attacked her. Haunted, he dropped to his knees to check her pulse, though it was clear she was dead.

Angry voices rose up from a small crowd of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons further down the corridor. A man in a Georgian morning suit pointed an accusing finger at Veitch. 'He did it. He killed our Marie.'

'No.' Church stepped quickly between Veitch and the group. 'He's been with us all the time. Don't jump to conclusions.'

'Why not?' The man brushed away a stray tear. 'That is what he does.'

Fearing they would attack Veitch, Shavi held up his hand and drew all attention to him. On the periphery of his vision, his alien eye glimpsed hidden shapes, and amidst the dislocation, he heard the distant whispers of the Invisible World. 'The murderer is still here in the palace. And more… We are under great threat!'

'Fan out across the palace,' Church said. 'Stick to the core groups that Decebalus has defined for you. Nobody goes alone.'

Reluctantly, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons moved off along the echoing corridors.

'This wasn't me,' Veitch said, eyeing the body.

'We know,' Church replied. 'I was stupid to think the Enemy would give us time to regroup. Come on.'

Shavi followed Church, Veitch, Ruth and Laura along the corridor. Mallory, Hunter and Caitlin headed for the stairs to the next level. As the groups separated, Shavi heard a rasping, unfamiliar voice issuing from Caitlin that chilled him to the bone. It said, 'Death is circling. Blood will come!'

Navigating the deserted, barely lit upper reaches of the palace was not easy. Hunter led the way with a torch snatched as they climbed the stairs in the east tower. To his left, Mallory's sword provided its own blue light to guide them, while at the rear, the Morrigan had risen in Caitlin, who now moved like a jungle cat. The possession brought physical change too, her eyes becoming a deeper black, her muscles tauter. Gripping her axe effortlessly, she appeared to hear things beyond even her comrades' sharpened perceptions.

Climbing the last flight of stairs, they entered an echoing loft space beneath the ancient oak rafters that supported the palace's pitched roof. Sleeping birds rested on every beam and in every nook and cranny above their heads, the floor white with their excrement.

Caitlin rested an unnaturally cold hand on Hunter's shoulder, her head half-cocked as she listened. 'There's someone up ahead.'

'You need to get yourself a sword,' Mallory said.

'Don't you worry about me,' Hunter replied. 'Now, who loves the stink of bird droppings enough to hide out up here?'

The loft area branched right and then broke off in three directions over the palace's wings. As they reached the junction, an ear-splitting, high-pitched shriek ripped out of the dark. The birds erupted from their roosts, driving Mallory, Hunter and Caitlin apart as they surged around the enclosed space.

One glimpse of Caitlin wielding her axe in a cloud of feathers and blood reached Mallory before he was driven away by talons and beaks, bodies battering him like stones. Disoriented by the beat of wings, he staggered back until he felt the wall against his shoulder.

Amidst the chaos he glimpsed a figure ahead, seemingly unmoved by the storm: a woman's hair, a cheek, an eye. In the gradual accumulation of information, a deep cold ran through him, driving out all rational thought. He propelled himself through the birds towards her.

His worst fears were confirmed: a woman in her late twenties stood before him, blond hair tied back, face weary from too much struggle too soon. A woman from his old life, before he was a Brother of Dragons, forced to endure an atrocity of Mallory's making that ironically set him on the path to becoming who he was.

The emotions her face dredged up blinded him to the knowledge that she couldn't possibly be there. He grasped her hand, desperate to tell her all the things he should have said but never had the chance, but all that came out was a weak, 'I'm sorry.'

The woman's eyes glittered hatefully. Through the haze of his crushing guilt, Mallory finally noticed something off-kilter about her. Pain jabbed into the back of his hand, drawing his attention to fingers that were no long the slender, pale ones he had grabbed but made of twisted blackthorn. A drop of his blood gleamed on the end of one sharp protrusion.

The woman's face unpacked, altered, until what remained was a head that appeared to be constructed of crumpled paper with black, blinking eyes hovering above a malicious grin. The body was now constructed wholly from the same twisted strands of blackthorn.

Mallory threw himself back. 'I saw you. In Ogma's library.'

The creature lifted its hand high, tilted back its head and dripped Mallory's blood into its open mouth. 'Now we are joined for all time,' it said in a voice like rustling paper, 'and that will not be for long.' It advanced on Mallory, one finger outstretched as if accusing him.

Scrambling to his feet, Mallory hacked off the blackthorn creature's arm. With a crackle, the forearm regrew from the stump, the index finger extending into an even more brutal point.

'You cannot stop me,' the creature said. 'Nothing ever stops me.'

Mallory lopped off the arm again, but it grew back just as quickly.

From out of the whirling birds, Hunter exploded into the creature. An instant later Caitlin was at his side, axe at the ready.

'Should have brought some defoliant.' Hunter watched the creature pick itself up and turn those chilling black eyes upon him.

'Take it easy,' Mallory said. 'Your weapons can't hurt it.'

For a second the creature weighed an attack, and then another high-pitched shriek increased the birds' wild activity. Battering her way through the wall of feather, beak and talon, Caitlin searched for their adversary, but there was no longer any sign of it.