by Jenna Grey
“Oh yes, just rub it in. We all know you went to save Polly, I was too weak, and you went and played the hero. You don’t have to keep bloody well reminding me. Don’t you think I wanted to go? But, no, I’m always being reminded that you’re the strong one―”
Polly cut him off mid-sentence.
“Enough! The last thing we need now is a pissing contest! Dad did what he did, and that’s the end of it. It was his decision. And at least now we might be able to stop Winchard from murdering any more poor souls to steal their bodies. I’m pretty certain that Terry Johnson and whoever he’s inhabiting now wished we’d found Winchard a bit sooner.”
“Point taken,” Finn said.
Liam put his arm around Finn’s shoulder.
“I know you would have gone to save Polly, Finn. I just know how much Polly loves you, and how much it would have crippled her if anything had happened to you. I wasn’t trying to upstage you.”
Finn looked suitably shame-faced.
“I know. I don’t know why I said any of that. I didn’t mean it. I know you were only doing it for the right reasons. I only hope that I can repay the favour one day.”
Polly went and slipped her arms around Finn’s waist and pulled him in for a quick kiss.
“Now let’s all act like grown-ups and get with the programme. As soon as Jack phones back we can find out what’s going on and we might actually have a chance of stopping my uncle once and for all.”
It was another ten minutes before Jack got back to them.
“I’ll put it on speaker phone,” Finn said.
Blaine sounded elated, hardly surprising.
“Sorry about that, but I had to make sure that fucker was secure. It’s all good. He’s not going anywhere. I need you to come and meet me at MI5 headquarters. Sorry, but I couldn’t keep you out of this any longer. The Home Secretary wants to see you. They still don’t know about Polly’s part in this. They only know that Hel wants out and that Gaunt is back. They still think that you’re just helping me out with information. You’ll have to lie your way through it.”
“It’s all right, we understand. Don’t worry; we can take care of ourselves,” Bert said.
“Do you know where it is? Westminster, right on the river. You can Google it if you’re not sure. I tried to arrange air transport for you, but they’re all working flat out – the bridge collapse has left us in a real bloody mess.”
“It’s okay, we can drive,” Finn said.
“Will they let us in?” Polly asked over Liam’s shoulder.
Blaine chuckled.
“Just tell the bloke on the desk you’re there, and I’ll come down and meet you. Oh, and Liam, leave the bling behind – you’ll give the security scanners a nervous breakdown.”
“You’re sure that Winchard is really safe? He’s such a tricky bastard.”
“Yep, in a very special holding cell, don’t worry he’s not going anywhere.”
“What’s to stop him jumping bodies?” Liam asked.
“He needs to be within a few feet of someone to body hop, and I’m the only one allowed into that room. I’m protected. But I would like you to check him over to make sure that I’ve not missed the obvious. You might be able to get some information out of him for us.”
There was silence for a few moments.
“Yeah, well there’s a bit of a problem there. Dad won’t be able to come,” Finn said pointedly.
“You two go―” Polly began. She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Bert came down the stairs, tottering slightly, worryingly pale, but at least on his feet. “You get back to bed right now!” Polly ordered, charging at him like a bull elephant. Bert waved a hand at her.
“I need to speak to Jack. I’m fine.” He gave a little chuckle and moved towards the comfortable chair, tottering precariously. They all knew better than to argue with him.
“What’s happened?” Jack asked.
“Why don’t you tell him. Dad?” Finn said. Liam took the phone from him.
“Dad sacrificed a couple of fingers in a ritual to try and get us some help,” Liam said. “It seems to have worked.”
There was a strange noise from the other end of the phone as what they had said hit home.
“Oh, no fuss now,” said Bert. “I’ve still got eight more, and we have found Winchard, we should be celebrating. Liam, my boy, you go and get the car. We’ll meet you down there in a few minutes.”
“Dad you’re not well enough to travel. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Finn protested.
“Will you two stop making such a song and dance about this, I’m fine, and I’m coming. That’s the end of it.” He took the phone from Liam. “We’re on our way.”
Polly peered out of the shop door at the darkening clouds overhead. It looked as if there was a storm on the way, that awful taste of bright ozone hanging in the air. A bitter gust of wind blasted its way inside, and Polly caught a dagger of icy rain straight in the face, stealing her breath from her.
“Looks like we’re in for a doozy,” Liam said, watching the storm clouds roll across the sky. “We better take a change of clothes with us. In case we have to stay overnight.”
Bert regarded the heavy storm clouds with a look of deep concern. “There is something wrong about this,” he said, “This most certainly isn’t natural, but we have no choice, we have to get to London. I won’t risk taking the train, and putting more innocent people’s lives in jeopardy.”
“I don’t like that we’re going to be interrogated when we get there. Polly isn’t up to this. You know what she was like with those policemen, she can’t lie,” Finn said.
“Oh, don’t worry. If the worst happens, I’ll Obi-Wan Kenobi them,” Bert said.
Polly wondered if he was joking, then realised that he was quite serious.
Liam brought the car around to the front of the shop, and Polly sprinted to it, her jacket held over her head to try and keep dry, tumbling into the back with Finn – Bert was riding shotgun.
“Are you sure this thing will make it all the way to London?” Liam asked, trying to get the windscreen wipers to work. Polly had been wondering that herself. The old monster of a car looked as if it should have been relegated to stock car rallying long ago. To be fair, the car did start up first time, its great beast of an engine rumbling into life.
“We better take the back roads – it will take a bit longer, but I don’t want to risk going on the motorway in this thing, not in this weather,” Liam said.
“Won’t that put us at more risk of flooding?” Finn asked.
“Maybe, but we won’t have to worry about an articulated lorry skidding across the central reservation and hitting us head-on.”
They began to drive, and it wasn’t long before the rain was sheeting down so hard that even on full, the windscreen wipers weren’t able to cope with the deluge. They frantically slashed against the glass, water not just spraying from them, but exploding from them in great daggers of light. The flare of the car’s high-beams kaleidoscoped in the smears of water left by the sweeping arc of the blades. Their muffled whoomph-whoomph sound as they cut back and forth was all she could hear over the pounding rain. How could Liam see where he was going? It was just a sheet of water in front of them, and she could see nothing but the chaos of rain on the glass.
“Can you do anything about this, Dad? I can’t even see the bloody road,” Liam protested.
Polly peered between the seats and saw Bert mutter something under his breath, then watched open-mouthed as the windscreen cleared completely, leaving the wipers sweeping dry screen.
“Wow,” Polly said. “Neat trick.”
“Neat magic,” Bert replied.
Overhead the thunder rolled, the sound of angry gods and Polly counted the seconds between the thunder and the lightning; it was almost synchronised now, a terrible merging of light and sound, the two fastest natural properties known to man, virtually melding into a freakish hybridised entity. The thunder seemed to own the sky, a terri
ble storm that felt like the end of the world. She squealed at the crack of blinding light that followed just scant seconds after the thunder rolled, staring in terror at the square of sky she could see through the windscreen.
The sound of the rain on the roof was ear-shattering, a violent drumming that pounded through her head. She looked out of the side window, and the roads were flooding badly now. The rain was so heavy that the water was rising fast and the narrow country roads they negotiated were flooding, water sloshing around the wheels. Worse still, the wind was picking up, violent gusts of wind that made the car rock; the trees on either side of the road bent against it like gnarled old men.
“I don’t like driving under these old trees. Perhaps we should have taken the motorway after all,” Bert said. Polly thought he was probably right, because the great overhanging branches were being forced to breaking point by the violent gusts of wind, and there was way too much chance of one of them being struck by lightning. She wondered whether the car tyres would be enough to insulate them if they were hit.
They had been driving for forty-five minutes according to the digits on the dashboard clock, going tortuously slowly because everyone else seemed to be driving at a crawl, inching their way through the gushing water. Cars were stalling as their engines flooded because they had been trying to drive too fast. Liam drove at a relentless dawdle to avoid the backwash. The car couldn’t have been doing more than about fifteen miles an hour, and then dropped to ten. Polly wound down the car window a few inches so that she could see over the top, not sure why because she couldn’t see anything through the rain; the world was made up of jagged broken shapes, fogged in white. The harsh drum of rain – not drops, but actual, white lines of rain had stolen the world.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Finn asked.
“Not unless you want to flood the engine. This is the only way we’re going to get through. I’m bloody glad we are driving this old beast now. A lot of modern cars would never get through this,” Liam said.
Bert made a frustrated tutting noise. “I have no doubt this is Hel’s doing, just to cause more havoc.” Polly didn’t doubt that; she could almost feel her malefic presence behind this.
“I hate to say this, but the MI5 building is right next to the river – are we smart going there if there’s likely to be danger of flooding?” she asked.
“Oh, the Thames barrier can cope with even the worst of it. I’m sure it will be fine,” Bert said.
Polly wished she felt as confident. She’s seen reports on the news that said they were already worried that the barrier might not be able to cope with an exceptionally high tide and they were even saying that it had been built too far down river and should have been built closer to the estuary. And that was under natural weather conditions. With Hel putting her finger in the pie, heaven only knew what could happen.
Bert turned on the radio and tuned into the weather forecast.
“The Met Office has issued severe storm warnings along the coast, and people in areas likely to be affected have been advised to take precautions against flooding. The army has been put on full alert, and the Emergency Management Committee assures us that there is no danger of the water level rising above safety levels.
The freak weather is being caused by a low-pressure system, creating a storm surge, which combined with the unusually high tide is pushing water up the Thames at unprecedented levels. Winds of up to 80 miles per hour are hitting the coast and people are advised not to go outside unless they really have to.”
“I hate to point out the obvious,” said Finn, “But we’re outside.”
The engine suddenly cut out and the car ground to a lurching halt.
Liam looked down at the fuel gauge and swore loudly.
“The fuel gauge shows we still have about an eighth of a tank,” he said, tapping the gauge hard. The needle never moved. He tried turning the ignition key again, and there was a whine and a groan of protest and then nothing. “I think we’re out of fuel. Fuck, fuck fuck.”
“I’m afraid the old girl is a bit of a fuel guzzler,” Bert said, “I never usually let it get too low. We used a lot of petrol up the other day driving to the warehouse to save Polly and what with one thing and another I just forgot to ask Finn to fill her up.”
“Well, that’s it, we can’t go any further in this,” Liam said, “We’re not that far from the river, we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.”
“You are joking,” Finn said, “Polly and Dad can’t walk in this. Call Jack, see if he can get someone to come out and pick us up.”
Liam tried his phone.
“No signal.”
“Awesome. Now what?” Finn asked.
Liam made to open the car door.
“We have no choice but to walk,” Bert said. “I’ll be fine. I have an oilskin in the boot that Polly can wear.”
“Polly will be okay,” Liam said. “You’re wearing the oilskin, Dad, and no arguments.”
Bert finally conceded after a few minutes argument, and they all scrambled out of the car into the storm.
The violence of it made Polly stagger backwards, the wind driving against her like fists. She bent over, trying to shield her face from the onslaught, but it stole her breath away, addled her senses. The skimpy clothes she wore did nothing to keep out the driving rain; within seconds she was drenched to the bone, her clothes sticking to her shivering frame, the fabric a clinging mass around her legs, making it hard for her to walk. They would all get hypothermia long before they reached their destination at this rate. She couldn’t feel any of her extremities and they’d only been out in the deluge for a couple of minutes. Rain was washing down the gutters in great rivers, and the drains weren’t coping with it, not at all; at this rate everywhere would be flooded within a couple of hours.
“This is very bad,” Finn shouted, seizing Polly’s hand and trying to help her stay on her feet. “Where the hell are we?”
“Warwick Square, I think,” Liam called back.
“That’s miles from the river!”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it, move the bloody river closer to us?” Liam asked testily. “It’s only about a mile, just a mile.”
“You seem to have overlooked the obvious,” Finn said, “if Hel doesn’t want us getting to Jack there are plenty of ways she could stop us between here and there. We are way too vulnerable out here.”
Polly could barely hear him over the wind and the rain; his voice carried away on the storm raging around them, even though he was yelling at the top of his voice.
“Just be on your guard,” Bert said. “We can handle anything the bitch queen from Hell throws at us.”
The streets were packed with a crunch of cars, all pointing haphazardly in every direction where owners had abandoned them. Police were trying to direct the gridlocked traffic, people desperately struggling to get under cover, or out of London. It was a madhouse, a great cacophony of car horns and people shouting, police cars with lights flashing and sirens wailing: total chaos. An army truck was trying to get through the traffic, loaded to capacity with people all desperate to get out of the city. A couple of soldiers were bumping abandoned cars out of the way, and scuffles were breaking out everywhere, people frustrated to breaking point.
“They’re expecting this to get really bad,” Liam said. “Maybe we should rethink this and jump on one of those trucks and get the hell out of here. Jack can send someone to pick us up when the storm clears.” The water was already up to their ankles and inching its way up fast. Polly couldn’t feel her feet and just wanted to get in anywhere and get warm.
“No, we’re nearly th—”
Polly shrieked as a drain cover blew just a few feet from her, a great geyser of water erupting from it, catapulting the manhole cover high into the air like a champagne cork popping. The cover dangled in mid-air for a few seconds, then dropped, a deadly steel missile, heading straight at Polly. Finn propelled Polly out of the way with a dropkick, as the metal
hit the ground like a meteorite. Liam darted forward and caught her before she hit the ground. One after another covers popped all along the road, as water roared through the sewers beneath. Polly knelt in the freezing water, unharmed but shaking violently, overwhelmed by the madhouse of sights and sounds around her. She put her hands over her head, hunching over into a ball of misery, her knees refusing to take her weight, and fighting desperately to hang onto consciousness.
“Polly, we’re almost there. You’re tougher than this.” It was Liam’s voice, close to her ear.
She looked at him, hardly able to see him through the sheeting rain. He gave her a nod, and she nodded back, forcing her legs under her, telling herself that she could do this.
“I’ll carry you,” Finn said.
“No you won’t,” Liam replied. “Polly’s fine.”
“I am fine, really. Come on, let’s get out of this bloody rain.”
And there was the difference between the two brothers in a nutshell.
They moved off again tortuously slowly, fighting their way through the crowds of people, but finding less and less of them as they got closer to the river. She supposed that anyone with any sense would have evacuated by now. Finn had his arm around her protectively, Liam was in front, more concerned with what might be ahead of them. Polly could feel the tension thrumming through his taut muscles, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Polly knew what he was looking for: demons. Hel had sent them before, and the consequences had been tragic; a good man had died, but they had survived, and they would again.
“I think we’re there, just on the other side of that building,” Liam finally said.
Polly turned the corner to find herself in front of an ugly stone building; it was austere and just a little bit sinister – not that she could see much of it through the driving rain. Polly thought that the MI5 building would be hidden or camouflaged, not out here in the open and looking so... ordinary.
They waded up the front steps under a large archway, approaching what must have been the entrance with some caution. Polly walked through the doorway and was hit by a sudden blast of warm air. She was so grateful she practically knelt and kissed the ground.