by Steve Feasey
‘Your father?’ the Ashnon prompted again.
‘He’s gone to the Netherworld. He said that he has some personal problems that he needs to fix. He’s seeking help from the Arel.’
‘The Arel?’ The Ashnon made a whistling sound through its teeth. ‘And he thinks that the battle-angels are going to help him? A vampire?’
‘He said there was no one else,’ she said, and the words caused a pang of guilt and fear in Alexa. Philippa didn’t have anyone else that she could rely on – Alexa and the Ashnon were her only hope.
She returned her attention to the Ashnon. ‘What are we going to do?’Alexa’s voice had taken on a harder edge. ‘We have to find Philippa.’
The demon shook its head as if it thought the task futile. ‘If there is any way that you can contact your father, you need to let him know what has happened.’
‘Do you think that she’s still alive?’
The Ashnon looked back at her – Philippa’s face set into an unreadable expression as it took in the other teenager. ‘Oh, she’s alive all right. If she was dead the link between her and this body would have been broken, and I wouldn’t be here like this.’
‘Thank goodness.’
The demon shook its head. ‘Not necessarily. In the Netherworld there are any number of things a whole lot worse than death.’ The nether-creature sighed. ‘I have to go. I have to look for her.’
Alexa heard a fizzing sound accompanied by the unpleasant pulling sensation that she knew signalled the imminent disappearance of the demon. She transferred her weight on to her heels, leaning her body back.
‘Wait!! she shouted over the din. ‘You can’t just go like this. We need to discuss the best way to try and get her back. We need to—’
But the Ashnon had already gone. There was a sudden blast of air that blew Alexa’s hair about her head and she was left staring at a blank space where Philippa’s doppelganger had stood moments before.
She sank down on the sofa, placing the now forgotten croissant and phone on either side of her, and stared down at the cream carpet, trying to come to terms with everything that she had just been told. The Ashnon was right – her father would know what to do, but he was not here and Alexa had no easy way to contact him right now.
The phone rang, the dial tone signalling that the call was coming from the offices downstairs. She picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear.
‘Hello. Can I speak to Lucien, please?’ an agitated voice asked before she could speak.
‘I’m afraid he’s not here right now.’
‘Tom?’
‘He’s out too.’
There was a pause on the other end of the line as if the caller were desperately trying to work out what to do next.
‘Can I help at all?’
Another pause and then, ‘We’ve had a tip-off from one of our people in the Netherworld. It’s a strange one, and we’re not quite sure what to make of it.’
‘Look, why don’t you just stop faffing around and—’
‘It’s regarding a demon lord that your father has asked us to keep tabs on. Its name is Molok, and it’s a collector.’
‘A collector of what?’
‘Of humans. Last year it was very active, making a number of sorties into the human realm and snatching people away. The thing is, since we’ve been keeping tabs on this particularly nasty piece of work, the demon has ceased its visits. That’s why we can’t quite figure out what our source is telling us.’
Alexa was sitting bolt upright on the sofa, the receiver held in a vice-like grip.
‘Go on,’ was all she could manage.
‘Well, it would seem that Molok has somehow acquired a new specimen for its collection. We know for a fact that he has not opened a portal into the human realm recently, so we can’t quite fathom out if the intel is right or not. We just need to know if Lucien would like us to look into the matter, or if he thinks that it’s probably some kind of hoax.’
There was no answer.
‘Hello? Hello?’
The caller was speaking to himself. The receiver was on the sofa cushion where Alexa had dropped it, and the girl was already racing downstairs to find out more.
EPILOGUE
Tom and Trey stepped out of the lift and into the apartment. The Irishman carried what little luggage Trey had brought back with him, allowing the youngster to bring in the carrier bag full of gifts that he’d bought at the airport.
Tom had filled Trey in on Lucien’s departure and the successful elimination of the Necrotroph.
Tom had noted how quiet and withdrawn his young friend had been since he’d collected him at the airport, but he’d put this down to travel fatigue. Trey had not wanted to speak about his trip and answered the Irishman’s questions with monosyllabic replies or long silences when he would stare out of the window at nothing in particular.
It wasn’t until Tom had spoken about Lucien’s strange behaviour and how worried he was about his vampire boss that Trey had taken an interest, asking questions about his guardian and grilling Tom for details.
‘There’s something wrong with him, Trey. He wouldn’t tell Alexa or me what it was, but I’m guessing it has something to do with his vampiric history. He’s been doing an awful lot of blood lately and when I asked him about it he turned on me in a way that was very unlike Lucien.’
Trey shook his head in disbelief. Lucien was always in control and he could not imagine him ever turning on his best friend in the way that Tom described.
‘He said that he’ll contact us to let us know he’s safe. Don’t ask me how he intends to do that from the Netherworld – some kind of magical mumbo-jumbo, no doubt. It’s not like he can pick up a mobile now, is it?’
The elevator from the car park finished its ascent. Trey looked about him at the familiar surroundings of the Docklands apartment. His heart had done a fluttery little skip as the doors of the elevator had slid open, and he realized that it was not just the apartment that he’d been looking forward to seeing again. He threw down the bags and walked towards the kitchen.
‘Alexa?’
He turned to Tom, one eyebrow raised questioningly, and was answered by a shrug of the Irishman’s broad shoulders.
‘Alexa?’
He walked into the kitchen, and saw the letter on the table.
‘What do you mean she’s gone?’ Tom said in a loud voice, pulling the letter out of Trey’s hand and scanning it himself.
Trey looked through the windows at the bright sunlit scene outside. A riverboat packed full of tourists was making its way up the river, everyone on board enjoying the weather and sightseeing.
The letter explained how Alexa had taken it upon herself to go after the Ashnon to try and help it find the Tipsbury girl. She also told of the tip-off that she’d received from downstairs, and ended her note with a simple line:
Philippa put her trust in me. I now have to repay that trust by going to find her.
Tom crumpled the letter inside a fist that he slammed down into the table, making Trey jump and look round. He swore in a long string of expletives and started to pace the kitchen, talking loudly to himself and cursing anyone and everything that he could think of.
‘I’m going to go after her,’ Trey said eventually.
‘What?’
‘Alexa. I’m going after her.’
‘Ah no. If you think that you too are disappearing off into that godforsaken place like every other injudicious, cavalier, reckless eejit, you’ve got another think coming. I’ll—’
‘What, Tom? What will you do? Because if you set one foot in the Netherworld, you’ll be dead in seconds. You might be the toughest bloke I know on earth but your guns and bombs are not going to help you there. You’ll be killed. And what good will that do to me or Lucien or Alexa?’
The Irishman glared at the youngster and for a horrible second Trey thought that he was going to lash out at him.
‘I’m sorry, Tom, but I’m going to have to go after her. I
’ve lost too many people that I care about to simply stay put here and let someone else try and get her back. And the more time that you and I spend arguing about it, the more danger Alexa might be in.’
There was a pause, and then to Trey’s surprise the Irishman nodded his head, reaching over to grab Trey behind the head, pulling him towards him and ruffling his hair. When he finished he held Trey at arm’s length, staring intently into the teenager’s eyes.
‘OK, lad. You’re right. Let’s go down and speak to some of our people about how to go about this. I’ll help you with whatever I can at this end.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Just promise me one thing, eh?’
‘What’s that?’
‘You bring them all back safe. You, and Alexa, and that poor lass Philippa. You all get back here safe and in one piece.’
Trey nodded his head at his friend. ‘I promise, Tom.’
To be continued …
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book was not easy to write. It ‘got away from me’ on a couple of occasions, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to reel it back in. The fact that I did is in no small measure to the support and advice of the people I rely on. So my heartfelt thanks go out to:
Rebecca McNally – my editor supremo. Thank you for your vision and honesty. Fliss Stevens, whose work keeps me from sounding inept. Dom Kingston – the most enthusiastic man on the planet. And the small army of people at Macmillan who work so hard to make it all happen.
My agent, Catherine Pellegrino, at Rogers, Coleridge and White, who is still happy to listen to me moan and groan, and who always comes back with good advice (even if it’s not what I want to hear).
And finally, I’d like to thank Zoe, Hope and Kyran for providing me with the love that keeps me going, and for putting up with me – it can’t be easy.
Table of Contents
Cover
Begin reading
Half-title page
Title page
Copyright page
Contents
Dedication page