Mike Shevdon - The Road to Bedlam

"I will. Thanks."

I left him in the pew, and went back out into the rain. It showed no sign of slackening off and by the time I had crossed the road it had found its way under my coat and soaked through my shirt and trousers. There was no point in raising my umbrella as the wind would blow it inside out and I had no idea what would happen when it became a sword again. Would it too be broken?

I strode down the hill with the wind tugging at my coat and the rain running down my face. The main road was busy with cars and the shops had opened.

I needed to do something more than bring bad news. Time for some research.

Blackbird grabbed her bag, "Come on, Claire, we'll use the fire escape."

"I'm not sure if I locked the front door."

"Leave it. If they really want to get in they'll just break the door down and then you'll have a broken door to deal with."

"But someone might steal my things."

"There may not be anything left to steal if the building goes up, and even less to worry about if you go up with it. Move, woman!" She bustled Claire out on to the fire escape.

"I don't even have shoes on," complained Claire. "All my shoes are in the apartment. I'm wearing slippers, for goodness sake. People will see."

"It could be worse. You could have been naked in the shower. At least you're dry, clothed and alive."

As they reached the bottom of the metal staircase, fire officers came to meet them bearing blankets. Blackbird eyed them warily, grasping the horseshoe in her left hand.

"This way, Madam. Everything's under control." A tall man in a fluorescent jacket looked warily at Blackbird and ushered them away from the stairway.

Blackbird shrugged his offer of a blanket away. "If everything was under control, young man, we would not be standing out here."

He raised his eyebrows at the "young man" comment. "Feeling our age this morning, are we?" he said with a grin.

Claire came to her rescue. "Don't you even think about patronising us, just because you think you're in charge."

His attitude shifted. "No, Madam. My boss is in charge and that's him over there by the appliance, so you can write to him with any complaints. In the meantime we'd like to prevent you from being incinerated. Please come this way."

They were guided out of the alley and across the road. The police were stopping traffic and there were a number of people gathered, looking back across to their flats and homes.

Blackbird caught Claire's arm. "I'm going."

"Going? Where?"

"Never mind where. Deefnir will follow me, not you, so you should be safe. Keep the horseshoes with you just in case. Place them like I showed you, and don't open the door to strangers, even to get the milk, understand?"

"But where will you go?"

The police were shepherding them towards the crowd and Blackbird didn't like crowds. It was too hard to see what was going on.

"Don't worry. I'll get in touch when this is over. Watch out for yourself."

Blackbird veered sideways.

"This way, Miss," said a short policeman with a padded anti-stab vest over his uniform. He indicated the gathering across the road.

"I'm just passing through," she reassured him. "What a kerfuffle, eh? Is it a bomb scare?"

"Just a gas leak, Miss. No cause for alarm. Keep to the right there, please, let the emergency services do their job."

Walking down the pavement, away from the flashing lights and the milling people, she glanced behind frequently to see if someone separated from the crowd, coming after her, knowing she probably wouldn't see them until it was too late.

Rule one of survival, don't go where you're expected to be.

That gave her a problem. She did have places she could go, but many of them would be places she was known. She didn't want to take trouble where it wasn't welcome, but her choices were few.

She pulled the bag up on to her shoulder, letting her hand dip down where the reassuring weight of the horseshoe was cold against her fingers. If anyone using magic got close, it should disrupt their power momentarily, giving her a split second to decide between fight and run. She shifted her hand to the hard black handle of the kitchen knife she had borrowed from Claire. She would return it, of course, when she had no more need of it, but for now it would give her a chance to even the odds, should the answer be fight rather than flee.

Making herself slow down, she crossed the road between the traffic. The drivers stopped for her, something she had never known happen in London, but then there had to be some advantages to being obviously pregnant, apart from the obvious one, of course. Almost unconsciously, she stroked her hand down her belly.

Her best option was a taxi, but her funds were low and getting a taxi in rush hour on a morning promising rain was going to be difficult, even if she did play the mother-to-be. Second choice was the Tube. That had other advantages in terms of where she could go.

She crossed another street, watching to see if anyone else crossed after her, then turned down a side road past a school where mothers were shepherding rowdy youngsters between iron gates – not the sort of school her child would be welcome at. She veered away from the iron even though it wouldn't affect her in her present state.

"Force of habit," she muttered to herself, earning a strange look from a young black woman who pulled a small boy close to her as an older girl prodded him, then danced out of reach into Blackbird's path.

"Mind what'cha doing, Helena. You nearly had that lady over."

Blackbird turned back to say that it was no problem, and it was then that she noticed the pale foreign man in the black suit. He didn't quite fit somehow, or maybe he wasn't used to wearing a suit and tie. He carried on walking towards her, not breaking step and studiously ignoring her gaze, but Blackbird couldn't help looking up at the heavy grey clouds and thinking that on a day like today most people would at least have worn a coat over an expensive suit like that.

She waved away the apology and hurried along the pavement. There were people around, walking to work or on their way to see friends, but that wouldn't matter. If it came to a fight it would be a private conflict. No one would see. No one would intervene.

When she looked back, the man had gone. Was she barking at the moon, seeing phantoms, making something out of nothing? She wasn't sure, but her pace increased and she kept glancing back whenever she had an opportunity.

She reached the tube station at Pimlico and took the ramp down to the ticket hall. She was at the barrier before she realised she would need a ticket and had to turn back. She dug in her purse for money and fed the machine coins while she tried to watch all the entrances. There was no sign of the man in the suit by the time she reached the barrier again. Slotting her dayticket through the machine, she went through and took the escalator down.

She chose the platform for the southbound line headed for Brixton. A single youth sat on a bench, eyes closed, nodding his head to the sound of the music pumping from his headphones. Blackbird could hear it clearly from yards away. She could not imagine any member of the Seventh Court tolerating such a racket, and therefore judged the youth harmless. Ignoring him, she moved quickly along the platform until she found the passageway through to the northbound side. She stood in the gap between platforms, breathing hard.

It was a few minutes before the train arrived and she used the time to catch her breath. The humid air in the station didn't make her any cooler and she could feel where the sweat was soaking through the smock-top under her arms. She considered peeling off the top, but then she would have a moment when she could neither see anything nor fend off any attack.