Wings of Sorrow
Author: Iain Rob Wright
Date: 2015-10-18 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Fantasy; Young Adult; Paranormal; Paranormal Romance; Mystery Thriller
Description: A captivating fantasy novel that brings the supernatural thrills of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel to a new generation. Growing up is hell. Scarlet is a sixteen-year-old girl with no friends living with her single father. The one thing her life has none of is excitement. That’s until she meets a naked stranger beside the lake. Then everything changes. Scarlet discovers that she is not just an ordinary sixteen year old. In fact, the fate of the world rests on her shoulders, and it seems like she’s one of the bad guys. A weapon. Pretty soon, Scarlet is going to miss her old, boring life, but
Publisher: SalGad Publishing Group

BOOK SUMMARY

Scarlet is a sixteen-year-old girl with no friends living with her single father. The one thing her life has none of is excitement. That’s until she meets a naked stranger beside the lake. Then everything changes.

Scarlet discovers that she is not just an ordinary sixteen year old. In fact, the fate of the world rests on her shoulders, and it seems like she’s one of the bad guys. A weapon.

Pretty soon, Scarlet is going to miss her old, boring life, but will have to accept that it is gone forever. At least she’s made a friend –a demon named Sorrow. He’s one of the bad guys too. Only evil can save her now.

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“You struggle with your demons and you conquer them”

Kinky Friedman

“Teenagers. Everything is so apocalyptic.”

Kami Garcia

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be Brave. Live.”

Buffy Summers

~ Chapter One ~

Shards of broken glass glinted in the mud as moonlight cast its silvery web across the lake. The smashed beer bottle was just another of mankind’s dirty footprints trodden carelessly into nature’s delicate face. How could a person spoil such beautiful scenery so brazenly? It raised many philosophical questions—like, why did people not understand that their homes didn’t end at their doorsteps? The entire world was their home, to share and respect, but they were wrecking it one broken beer bottle at a time.

In his 100% white cotton shirt with nylon buttons, Ainsley was as much to blame as anyone for leeching the earth, but at least he tried to be mindful of the environment. His litter only went in a bin, he recycled enthusiastically, and he never killed a spider if he could help it. His latest car was a hybrid, for Heaven’s sake. While he might not be perfect, at least he was doing something.

Ainsley considered picking up the jagged beer bottle and disposing of the shards before they sliced open a child, or some magpie attracted by the glinting light, but he decided the risk of cutting himself was too high. It was the middle of the night, and the lake was almost pitch-black. The last thing he needed was an infection from a grubby piece of glass after just receiving the all clear from the hospital.

At just forty nine years of age, Stage 2 pancreatic cancer had come as a shock—a meteor of dread out of nowhere. He’d always been so healthy and spry—barely even a cold in as long as he could remember—so The Big C had been the last thing he expected. What on earth had he done to cause it? As a trained chef, hygiene had always been a priority to Ainsley. A non-smoker, and a rare drinker, he was just one of the unlucky. He had done nothing to earn his death, but the cancer didn’t care. The terminal-disease-winning lottery ticket had his name on it.

At first he had assumed he was a goner, and the look on his GP’s face had reinforced that gut feeling. Cancer was the end, he thought. A free pass straight to Heaven—or wherever else a person was destined to go. His life had ceased being numbered in years, and was now ticking down in days—perhaps in hours. The doctors had told him to put his affairs in order—just in case. Yeah, whatever, just in case. ‘Get your will sorted,’ was what they really meant. Time to choose the casket you want to spend eternity in. The more you do now, the less your ex-wife and daughter will have to be bothered with. The thought of leaving his teenage monster, Claire, had been the thing to finally break him. They might barely speak at the moment, but he loved her. For the first ten years, he and her cantankerous mother had raised their daughter together. It had been nice, and his little girl had been sweet. Perhaps she would be again, once the teenage hormones wore off, but he wouldn’t be around to see it. He would be rotting in a deep hole.

But his diagnoses hadn’t turned out to be a death sentence after all. For Ainsley, cancer had been six months of demoralising chemotherapy, followed by keyhole surgery that he was able to walk off in a day. In hindsight, he realised that the oncologists and surgeons had never moved beyond mild concern. For them it had all been entirely routine.

He was recuperating already, and could feel his body regaining strength every day. His biggest problem was insomnia—which was why he was wandering around the town’s lake at two in the morning—a lonely summer night with nothing but nature to comfort him. It wasn’t half bad. The solitude of deep night mixed with the gentle swaying of the trees around the water’s edge was about as serene as life could get. It was easier to appreciate such simple things now that he had escaped the slithery clutches of death, but it had also become much harder to tolerate people ruining it—like when they left behind broken beer bottles.

The bottle continued to offend him enough that he was forced to hurry along the path. The grassy embankment along the water’s edge was peppered with lumpy shadows—geese and ducks sleeping with their pointed heads tucked beneath their wings. Not wanting to disturb their feathery slumber, Ainsley gave them a wide berth.

On the lake, he saw the ghostly visages of a pair of swans. They seemed to be patrolling the waters, like sentries on a battlefield. There was also other movement. The water seemed to be bubbling. Boiling.

Ainsley scratched his head. “What the Hell?”

The birds on the embankment woke up and began to make noises, wings flapping.

The water foamed.

Ainsley couldn’t help himself. He hurried down to the edge of the water to try and get a closer look. The frothing continued, sending more birds into panic. Something emerged from the water below. The glistening shape broke the surface and started heading towards the bank.

Ainsley felt a tug in his guts, reminding him of the cancer that had recently dwelt there. What was happening? What was he witnessing?

The mysterious shape reached the embankment and flopped onto the mud. Under the shimmering moonlight it resembled a beached seal, but once it spread its arms and legs out, Ainsley realised that it was a man.

A hallucination, surely. It couldn’t be real.

Was Ainsley’s cancer truly gone? Maybe it had spread to his brain.

The soaking wet man was naked, but visibly alive. He clawed at the soft mud like a newborn coming into the world, but his pristine golden hair was unsoiled. His muscles bulged, even in the shadows. A Michelangelo sculpture come to life.

Ainsley dared approach, and knelt down next to the man. Reaching out a hand, he hesitated when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood erect like soldiers on parade. But this stranger needed help, so he ignored the pang of anxiety, and reached his hands out to grab the naked man’s shoulders.

It was like grasping hot coals.

Ainsley yanked his hands back and yelled. The remaining geese on the bank took flight across the water. The stranger climbed to his knees, continuing to rise until he was at full height. The man was a juggernaut, seven feet tall and sculpted from white marble. His eyes were so blue that they caught the moonlight and shone like torches.

“Are you okay?” Ainsley managed to ask, looking at his burned hands but seeing they were now fine. Had he imagined it? “Your skin… I could have sworn…”

The stranger looked around for a few moments, but then tilted his head and seemed confused. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ainsley. What were you doing in the lake in the middle of the night?”

The stranger looked back at the water behind him and allowed his thin lips to slide into a scowl. He brought his hands up in front of his face and rotated them slowly like they were foreign objects—slimy mud covered them. “Earth,” the naked giant said with a sneer. “The stink of it offends me.”

“It’s just the lake,” said Ainsley, feeling a little offended by the comment for some reason. “Can be a bit pongy in the summer, I’ll admit. The smell of nature can—”

“Cease your noise, human. My ears tire of hearing it.”

Ainsley didn’t know what this man’s situation was, but it became quite clear that he was unhinged, and possibly even dangerous—unfriendly, at the very least. The fact that he was naked seemed to elicit no explanation from the man, and that in itself was abnormal behaviour. It was the middle of the night and no one was around for half a mile. Ainsley suddenly became acutely aware of that fact. “I, erm, should be going, sir. I hope that you’re okay.”

He was about to walk away when the hulking, naked stranger grabbed his arm. It began to burn immediately—even through his shirt cuff. What scared Ainsley most was that the man’s skin began to shimmer, eventually changing colour and shape until it resembled the exact clothing that he, himself, wore. The being had altered his appearance to match Ainsley’s!

“Where is The Spark?”

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean. Please, let go of me.”

The stranger tightened his grip. “The Spark, where is it? I hear its call. It is near. Where?!” He bellowed the last word and squeezed harder, snapping bone.

Ainsley screamed in agony. “I-I swear, I don’t know what you’re… what you’re talking about.”

The stranger bared his sharp, square teeth—everything about the man was square. “Then you are without use to me.”

Ainsley thought the stranger was about to let him go, but instead he found himself engulfed in flames, enduring the worst pain he could imagine. He ran down the bank, arms flailing and mouth wide and screaming, but by the time he leapt into the water, his broken arm could do nothing but flap helplessly. His leg caught in the reeds, which tightened like grasping hands and held him under the water. In agony, Ainsley inhaled lungfuls of muddy water.

It would have been better if the cancer had taken him.

~ Chapter Two ~

Scarlet Thomas picked up the dusty tome and turned it over in her hands. The title read: The Prophecies of Noy. She said, “You really do sell some strange junk in here, Mr Chester.”

The owner of the Little Treasures Emporium, Mr Miles Chester, gave her a dry chortle, which was the closest he ever got to mirth. “I run a trinket shop,” he said, “not a newsagent—the more peculiar the junk, the better. Please be careful with that book, Scarlet. It was written before your great great grandparents were born.”

Scarlet placed the book down carefully. “Then I’m pretty sure it’s out of date.”

Mr Chester picked it up from where she’d placed it on the table and ran a hand over the cover affectionately. “The older something is, the more you should respect it. Many of the prophecies in this book are still yet to happen, so it is very much not out of date.”

“Prophecies? You mean, like, fortune telling and stuff? Like that Nastradittus guy?”

Behind his thick spectacles that sat on his long, pointed nose, Chester rolled his eyes and looked like a miserable, old grump. “Nostradamus—and yes, this book is very similar to that man’s work, except that these prophecies were foretold by a 16th Century Florentine monk named Vincent Noy. His predictions have been almost unfailingly correct.”

Scarlet scoffed. “I don’t believe in that stuff. Nobody can predict the future. Most people can’t even guess what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he placed the book down on the counter, “but this item is priceless all the same, and it is for my personal collection, so I’d like you to place it inside one of the book bags, please.”

“Sure thing, Mr Chester,” she said. The bags were on the shop floor, so she left the back office area and went out to where her gangly coworker, Indy, was standing around aimlessly and chewing his nails.

Indy was a year older than her—had already left school—but maturity-wise he was still twelve. He worked at Little Treasures full time, while she only worked a couple evenings a week (a little longer, now that school was out for the summer). He was an odd looking kid, with skin too dark to be white, but neither was he black. His black hair ran straight and long, while his nose was wide and round, like a clown’s honker. None of his features seemed to match up, but he still managed to be quite handsome, all things considered. His personality, however, was a mixture of juvenile and childish, with a hearty dose of immature. He even had an awful tattoo of a red and white umbrella on the back of his hand from some videogame about zombies. She gave him less than a year before he regretted having it done.

“Hey, Scar. You gunna take the till so I can go drain my Singapore noodle?” He did a little dance on the spot and clutched himself.

“I’ll come cover you in a minute, Indy,” she said. “Mr Chester wants me to do a job for him first. Can I grab one of the book bags, please?”

Indy grabbed one from the pile beneath the till counter and held it out to her. “Don’t be long, or I’ll pee down my leg. You’ll have to mop it up.”

“You can mop up your own pee, Indy. I’ll be five minutes.”

She returned to the back area and saw that Mr Chester was now sitting in his office with a steaming mug of tea in his hand. The man would be unrecognisable without spectacles on his face and a warm brew between his fingers. He was as stuffy as a blocked nose, but Scarlet’s boss was always polite and never gave her a job she didn’t like—he cleaned the toilet himself and never let anyone touch the sink. Indy said he had OCD, and could only relax about things being clean if he had washed them himself. Suited her just fine.

The book of prophecies was still on the desk, so she flicked the plastic bag open in her hands and went to retrieve it. When she thought about people believing in such silly things, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Prophecy. It was like star signs—so vague they were always right. Today you will be met with challenges. Give life your all, and you shall succeed. Scarlet rolled her eyes. There was a sucker born every minute.

She opened up the book’s cover and leafed towards the back. The pages were stiff and yellow, many contained images nestled amongst the text. Curiosity had made her open it, but she found herself pausing to examine a faded pencil-sketching of two tall oblongs with what looked like flames at their bases. Near the top of the two oblongs was a pair of grey sparrows. Immediately, her mind went to 9/11. It was an event that had always haunted her—it was the day she had been born. Having a birthday on such a tragic day meant that there were never any parties or celebrations for her. Nobody wanted to have fun on September 11th. Her father had tried in the early days, but as a single parent, planning birthday parties was always secondary to trying to get his head around menstruation and training bras. They had spent the majority of their relationship being awkward around each other. By being both mother and father, he had lost out on being a dad.

A sick feeling struck Scarlet suddenly. She almost keeled over and puked right where she was standing, but managed to take a few deep breaths and send the nausea packing before it got to her. Something about the old drawing had made her feel unusual. The words surrounding it were not in English, so she had no idea what the drawing was actually supposed to be, but she couldn’t dispel the image in her mind of that fateful day. Those planes floating in the air… Those buildings falling down like kid’s building blocks…

Scarlet couldn’t look at the picture anymore. She flipped ahead another couple pages until she found a different illustration. This one was even stranger than the last. What the previous drawing had lacked in details, this one made up for, in abundance. The illustration was of a young girl, and even in black and white, her hair shimmered, and her freckles leapt off the page. At the bottom of the sketch was a crudely inked carpet of stars that made it look like the girl was standing on a cloud of magic. It reminded Scarlet of her own reflection, and she almost, for a moment, imagined she was looking at a picture of herself. She shook the silly thought away before it had time to take root.

“I thought I told you to wrap that book up? I don’t want it to get dusty.”

Scarlet flinched, closed the book with a slam, and turned to face her boss. “Sorry, Mr Chester, I was curious. Where did you get it from?”

“A collector. It’s worth a pretty penny, so please get it covered and placed on my private shelf.”

“Right away.” She slipped the book inside the plastic bag and pulled the zip-lock closed. Then she crossed the room and slid it onto the shelf beside an old copy of the Koran Mr Chester had purchased last week from the town’s mosque. Mr Chester was mad about old books, but she saw nothing but dust and hard to read words. Better to collect something useful, she thought, like records. At least you could play those—if you had a record player.

Mr Chester had returned to his office now, but he seemed to be keeping an eye on her. She’d only been working at the shop for a few months, but she enjoyed it and felt like she was doing a good job. Her dad wanted her busy during the evenings and holidays, and a job was what he had decided would be the right distraction. Life experience, he had informed her, would do her a lot of good. She didn’t have any friends after having moved to the town of Redlake just six months ago, so she had to admit that it was nice having something to do when she wasn’t at school. Also, the money was pretty great. It might be minimum wage, but it was the first money that had ever been entirely hers. Soon as she was seventeen, she was going to splash it all on driving lessons. Long as Mr Chester didn’t fire her first, of course—he was still eyeballing her from the office.

What did I do? I thought he liked me? Now he’s looking at me like I spanked his dog.

Mr Chester had been a substitute History teacher at Scarlet’s new school. One day, while he had been covering for Mrs Flowers, he’d spoken about a new shop in town he would soon be opening. Having been looking for a part-time job at that exact moment, Scarlet had begged for a position—and got one! She’d only been able to do so many hours at first, but now that school was broken up, she could work longer. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on all that money.

“Hey, yo, Scar! I need to go real bad!”

Scarlet saw Indy sticking his head through the door and grimaced. “Yow, Indy, I forgot, sorry. Go, go!”

Indy raced off towards the toilet like a cartoon mouse—areeba areeba, andale andale—while Scarlet went and manned the shop floor, content that she wasn’t going to need to get a mop to clean up any of Indy’s pee.

***

Scarlet didn’t greet a single customer for the remainder of the day, and by the time she’d pulled on her favourite peach cardigan and was ready to go home, she wondered how Mr Chester managed to keep Little Treasures afloat. She had experienced that most days were slow, but it never seemed to faze her boss. In fact, Mr Chester seemed to fret very little over actual sales. If people came and bought, great. If not, then it never seemed to be a big deal. How on earth did he make enough money to keep on adding to his ‘personal collection’?

“Thank you for today,” Mr Chester told her as he wiped at the already-clean desk with a cloth. “Mind yourself on your way home now, won’t you?”

Scarlet frowned. “Redlake isn’t exactly known for its mean streets.”

“All towns have their dangers, Scarlet, no matter how big or small. You should always be careful.”

“The night is dark and full of terrors,” Indy muttered from the back of the room. He had put on his luminous green baseball cap and looked ridiculous.

Mr Chester folded his arms and scowled. “What have I told you about quoting Game of Thrones, Indy?”

Indy shrugged. “Don’t do it?”

“That is correct.”

Scarlet kept a slight grin on her face. “I’ll keep an eye out for muggers, Mr Chester, I promise.”

“I’ll walk you home,” said Indy with a wink. “I’ve been meaning to check out your bedroom anyway.”

“Mr Chester, I wish to report sexual harassment in the workplace.”

He sighed. “Must I have you castrated, Indy?”

“No sir. That would be unfair to all the ladies who want a piece of my Valerian Longsword.”

“That’s it! Go! Get out! Please leave.” Mr Chester waved his arm dismissively, but his usually stern face had softened to an almost-smile. “I will see you both tomorrow, okay? Enjoy your evenings.”

Indy winked at Scarlet again. “Oh, we will.”

Scarlet punched him on the arm. “I’ll be walking myself home, thank you.”

Mr Chester locked the door behind them and disappeared back inside. He lived alone in the flat above the shop, so in a way he never left work. Scarlet thought it must be depressing, but at least the commute was short.

Indy headed up the high street to go and get himself a chicken kebab with hot sauce. Scarlet headed the other way, down Unicorn Hill—which was the road that led to the lake. If it had been winter, she probably would have caught the bus, but the summer nights were so pleasant that it was hard to resist a picturesque stroll before reaching home and watching Eastenders. She and her dad had moved from Moseley in Birmingham, where very little was green and natural, so she was enjoying the change. Perhaps the novelty of living in a rural hamlet would eventually wear off, but right now, it was one of the few things that made her feel fortunate. She had no mother, no friends, no hobbies, but at least she didn’t live in a concrete jungle anymore.

Her dad had moved them from the city when he’d lost his job as an advertiser when a Qatari company purchased the firm he worked for. Relocation had become necessary when he took a job as a marketing consultant for a shipping firm with rural headquarters, so Redlake became their new home. The problem was that her dad was so eager to impress his new employers that he barely spent any time at home anymore. Losing his job had shaken him, but even before that he’d been a workaholic. Long ago she had decided that it was because he didn’t know how to be a parent. When her mother had still been around, Scarlet’s dad had been home for dinner every night, and would always read to her before bed, but once it became just the two of them, he had seemed to close up emotionally. She couldn’t remember the last time they had laughed together. Even when he was home, she felt lonely.

The lake was just up ahead, so she exited Unicorn Hill and took the pedestrian path that hugged the water’s edge. The sun was hot, even at six o’ clock, but the newly-arrived evening had imbued that heat with a pleasant mildness. Even the usual muddy stench was missing tonight.

When she made it beside the lake, it seemed to be humming with life. Clouds of insects hovered above its surface while ducks, geese, and swans shaded themselves amongst the gently swaying reeds.

Scarlet thumbed at her phone and put in the attached earphones. Her favourite music began to play immediately—like she had opened a door on an orchestra—and she hummed along happily as Katy Perry did her thing. Time seemed to pass so much more enjoyably with a soundtrack.

You could get almost anywhere in town from the path she was on, for the lake sat directly in the centre of town. The wide north end played host to an ancient monastery with a museum, while the southern tip contained a visitor’s centre and yacht club. In between was nothing but leafy paths, woods, and water. A wooden shack sat about halfway around, with pictures of ice cream on its side, but she had never seen it open. A shame, because a chilled ‘99 would be the one thing to make this evening walk a flawless pleasure.

A sixteen year old girl should have something better to do on a Wednesday night than walk around the lake on her own—she knew that—but it had been tough to make friends at her new school. It was everybody’s final year—their friendships were long-established and their groups nigh on impermeable. Nobody had time for an average-looking girl that they probably wouldn’t know in six months’ time. It’d been a lonely time, but it wasn’t that bad. She was well used to having only herself to rely on by now.

Water splashed nearby. A goose honked and flapped its wings.

Scarlet looked to the lake and saw something lying amongst the reeds.

A man.

“What the fudge?”

She crept cautiously down the bank, making sure that her eyes were telling her the truth (they definitely were), and making sure not to step on the broken beer bottle that hid amongst the grass. The naked man lay on his back, choking. Gouts of water came out of his throat with every cough, and his hacking sounded painful. What on earth was he doing there?

She ran to his aid, but when the struggling stranger saw her, his eyes went wide and he seemed to panic.

“It’s okay,” she said, placing a hand against his hitching chest. She blushed when the corner of her eye detected his penis flapping around only inches from her hand, but she tried to focus on the fact that he was in need. Something had obviously happened to him, and it was lucky she had been here. He managed to sit up and allowed her to pat him on the back with her palm. There was a sloshing sound as she beat at him, and then, eventually, more water came up, flooding out through his mouth and nostrils. The man took in a single sucking breath that seemed to go on forever, then began hacking again.

“There you go,” she said soothingly. “Cough it up.”

A ragged groan escaped his lips. “W-who…”

“My name is Scarlet.”

“…am I? Who am I?”

“You don’t know who you are?”

He was mid-twenties and handsome, with dark brown hair and a layer of stubble on his chin, but his scrunched up forehead and quivering lower lip made him seem like a lost little boy. “I… don’t remember,” he eventually admitted.

Still patting at his back, she asked him, “What happened to you? How did you lose your clothes? Did you go skinny dipping or something? Because I can tell you that swimming in a lake alone in the evening is pretty dumb.”

“Dumb?”

She nodded. “Yeah, dumb—stupid. I’m going to call you some help, okay?”

He grabbed her arm, making her recoil, but she quickly realised that he was not trying to hurt her. “I have something to do. I’m here to… I need to remember. Take me somewhere I can think.”

“Like where? You probably need a doctor. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “I function correctly.”

“Well, that’s just… super. What do you want to do then? Because you can’t just lie here. I can see your… you know, your junk.”

The man followed her sideways glance to between his legs. “My genitalia offends you?”

“What, no, it’s fine… No, wait…. I mean…” She felt herself growing redder in the cheeks. “Just saying you should cover up.”

“Cover up?”

It was a warm evening, but the thin cardigan she was wearing went down to her knees and would perhaps be enough to give him back his modesty, so she took it off and thrust it at him. “Put this on.”

He rose up to his knees, allowing her to notice a pair of long, thick scars on either side of his back. Before she could take a closer look, though, he had wrapped the peach coloured cardigan around himself and was examining himself wearing it. “I don’t like the colour,” he said.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s better than wandering around butt-naked. Do you need me to call anyone? I have to tell you that this is all really weird.”

The expression on his face was distrustful, and he seemed most wary of a nearby group of geese. “Will you take me somewhere where my appearance will not offend? I wish not to be disturbed until I can remember my purpose for being here.”

Scarlet frowned. “Your purpose? Are you some kind of nut-job, because if you are, then I really should be going.”

His eyes went manically wide. “No, Scarlet, please? You are… kind.”

It was an odd situation, but the compliment made her smile. She was kind, and it was nice for someone to notice. It had started to feel like kindness didn’t get you anywhere, and that was kind of sucky. “Yeah, well, I’m sure anybody would be willing to help a stranger in need.”

“No, they would not. There is great trouble in this world. I sense it all around me. Sorrow is everywhere.”

“Are you always this light-hearted?”

“My heart weight is normal. Please, Scarlet, take me somewhere I can think. Those creatures concern me.”

Scarlet glanced at the honking geese and chuckled. “You really are confused, aren’t you?”

“I understand little, but I am here for a reason. You may be it, kind Scarlet. Perhaps our meeting is destiny.”

Scarlet groaned. “What is it today with all the crazy talk about destiny? Look, I’m pretty sure that you’re crazy, but you seem harmless, so I’ll help you. My house is ten minutes away; we can go there. Soon as we do, though, my dad is going to call the police to come and get you.”

“The police?”

“Yeah, you know, the men in uniforms who stop bad guys?”

“I would like to meet the police.”

Scarlet turned around and started walking. “Hurry up then. Anyone sees you walking around in just my cardigan, I’ll never make a friend in this town as long as I live.”

“I would like to be your friend. Your sorrows trouble me.”

“No offence, but you don’t even know your own name.”

“Then you shall provide me with one. Whatever you wish.”

Scarlet glanced at him and smirked. “Fine, I’ll call you Sorrow. It seems to be your favourite word.”

“So be it. I, Sorrow, will be your friend.”

Scarlet shook her head. “I’m really not going to be one of the ‘cool kids’ in this town, am I?”

“It is, indeed, very warm this evening.”

“Let’s just hurry up, Sorrow, before somebody sees us.”

~ Chapter Three ~

“Dad, are you here?” Scarlet opened the back door, from the garden, to avoid the neighbours seeing her with a strange, older man currently dressed in only her peach cardigan. Sorrow had remained silent during the remainder of their walk, but had glanced around from time to time like a child at a funfair. Everything seemed to either intrigue or amuse him. Except that he really didn’t seem to like geese and had gone so far as to chase one away from the edge of the path. Scarlet hadn’t been able to contain her laughter when the plump bird hissed at him from the safety of the lake.

They had reached her house now, but her dad wasn’t there—obviously working late again. So as Sorrow stepped into the kitchen behind her, she began to tense up. The joviality of the situation drained away as she realised that she had placed herself alone with an unusual stranger in her home.

“I think I ought to call the police now,” she said nervously.

Sorrow nodded. “They will help me?”

“Yes, that’s their job.”

“Will my appearance offend them?” He glanced down at the cardigan, which had fallen open, exposing his penis again.

Scarlet covered her face with a hand. “For God’s sake, will you put your todger away for one minute?”

“My todger? I am sorry, your cloak is too small to fit me sufficiently. I mean no offence.”

“Look, just stay here. I’ll go get you some of my dad’s clothes, and then I will call someone.”

“Thank you, Scarlet.”

She hurried upstairs and headed straight for her dad’s wardrobe. She half-expected Sorrow to run up after her, even readied herself to bolt inside the bathroom and make a call on her mobile—but he remained downstairs in the kitchen. The sound of a stool scraping suggested that he’d sat down at the breakfast bar. His bare ass-cheeks were probably sliding across the back of her cardigan right now. Gross. Although, he was kind of cute—and a decade older.

She snatched up a pair of her dad’s jeans and a white, casual shirt, and then headed back down the stairs. As she’d half-expected, she found Sorrow sitting on the stool beside the breakfast bar. He was examining a Braeburn apple as if it were a jewel, but smiled when she entered the room. Scarlet was surprised when her stomach fluttered.

“I found you something to wear,” she said. “Didn’t get you any underwear, though, thought it would be weird. Against the ‘Guy Code’ or something.”

Sorrow placed the apple down and took the clothes from her. “Guy Code?”

“Nevermind. Just put the clothes on so I can call somebody.”

Sorrow did as she said and put on the jeans and shirt. Once dressed, he looked less like a crazy person and more like a model for a cologne advert. His tussled, dark hair pointed in a thousand different directions, and his angular face was softened by a pair of gentle, green eyes. Scarlet no longer felt in danger around him, but she knew that she still needed to inform the police. She’d found a man lying half-drowned by the lake, who’d been talking nonsense ever since. Something was wrong with Sorrow—or whatever his real name was.

“The police will probably take you in and question you,” she explained, “but then they should get a doctor to have a look at you.”

Sorrow nodded. “Then you and I can figure out why I am here.”

“What? No, I’m going to stay here.”

“I do not want that. We must stay together. There is a reason you found me.”

“Yeah, because I happened to be walking by when you were choking. It could have been anybody.” She had to be firm; this was no longer a joke. “This is all getting a little silly, Sorrow. You haven’t tried to hurt me—thank you for that, by the way—but you are acting way too crazy. You need help; help I can’t give you.”

“This saddens me.”

“Then I guess Sorrow really is a good name for you.” She turned around and snatched the phone from the kitchen counter. Dialling 999, she waited for someone to answer. She flinched when she heard her dad’s voice.

“Hi, honey, sorry I’m late.”

Startled, she ended the call before anyone came on the line. Her dad strode into the kitchen and picked up an apple from the counter. He took a big bite. “You okay, hun? Did I scare you?”

Scarlet glanced around the kitchen, but Sorrow had gone. He must have left when she’d turned around to call 999. He really was crazy, wasn’t he? He wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“I’m fine. I… did somebody pass you on the way out?”

“No, why? Who was here?”

She shook her head. “Nobody. I thought I heard a knock at the door.”

“Okay, well I was thinking of ordering a pizza tonight. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “What’s another few inches on the waistline?”

Her dad walked over and patted her on the arm. It was an awkward gesture. “I know I should be home more often to cook, but I just want to get nice and secure in my new job first. After what happened last time…”

“It’s okay, dad. I only just got home myself. Mr Chester didn’t close the shop till half past five and then I walked home.”

“You didn’t take the bus?”

She shook her head.

“You should have caught the bus, Scarlet. I want you to be safe. Lot of nutters in the world.”

Scarlet grunted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What’s that now?”

“Nothing. Pizza will be great. I’m just going to take a shower, and then I’ll order.”

“Great. Thanks, Scarlet. I could do with a wash myself. How was work, by the way?”

“Good. Drags a bit now that I’m doing longer days, but it’s okay. All experience, I guess.”

He smiled. “Yep. Customer service skills can help in a lot of careers, so learn whatever you can. You thought anymore about college?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“Well, you need to think fast. Your future will be here before you know it.”

She rolled her eyes. There was never any stopping to smell the roses with her dad. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

He patted her on the head. “Good girl.”

Refusing to be petted like a dog, she headed upstairs to take a shower. She took her clothes off and threw them down on the bed, then looked at her face in the mirror on her dresser. She had a nice tan coming along from her walks around the lake, but her chest and neck were pale where her clothing blocked the sun. Maybe she should wear a necklace?

On her dresser were several items of jewellery, but the one that caught her eye was hanging from a small stand. It was her mother’s necklace, the only thing of value the woman had left behind when she had decided to run out on Scarlet and her dad. The thought of wearing it made her feel like she was betraying him, so she left it where it was—where it always remained, a part of her possessions, but wilfully ignored.

A thought popped into her head which made her pull open the drawer underneath her dresser. She plucked out an old necklace with a thick, double chain. She had bought it a month ago from Little Treasures, making use of her staff discount. Mr Chester had told her it was from the sixties, when the country was all love and flowers. The little, gold pendant was a dove that split in two—one for each lover. She had never had a boyfriend, but when she saw the pendant hanging in the shop window, she had wanted it. To her, it represented a hope for the future. One day she would have a boyfriend, or even just a friend that she could give the other half to. She wouldn’t always be this alone. It had cost more than she had, but Mr Chester had been happy to take instalments from her monthly wages. He’d even knocked down the price further to help her get it. He wasn’t so bad.

Mind made up, she fastened the pendant around her pale neck and prepared to take her shower. The oddness of what had happened still remained with her, and led her to worry. Was Sorrow going to be okay? Should she still call the police? Without him being there they probably wouldn’t believe her story.

I found a naked man beside the lake and took him home. Yeah, that’s right, like in a bad porno movie.

Scarlet found herself picturing Sorrow’s penis and immediately blushed. She’d not seen one in the flesh before, but had started to grow curious about such things. It had been an ugly, dangling thing, but as she thought about it, she got a rush of excitement, and when she stepped into the shower, she needed to take it cold. All intention was to be back to her normal self by the time she sat down for pizza with her dad, and hopefully, she could put the whole thing behind her.

But an hour later, as she stared at the television and filled her face with calories, she still thought about that stranger.

Sorrow.

Where had he gone?

~ Chapter Four ~

The screeching demon woke Scarlet and made her moan in pain. She rolled onto her side and smashed her palm against the top of the alarm clock and begged it to stop. 8.00AM: Time to go to work.

Her head felt heavy—a mixture of tiredness and bad food. It led to her stumbling into the ensuite like a zombie, never lifting her feet higher than a shuffle. The plush carpet felt good against her bare feet, but that was her only pleasure, and when she looked into the bathroom mirror, her hair was tangled up like a bunch of weeds.

“Wow,” she said to herself. “The boys are going to be lining up to date you, sugar.” She sighed. I suppose there’s always Indy.

Before getting dressed, she dragged a brush through her hair and put on a little makeup. Five minutes later she felt almost human again. From her wardrobe, she went to get her peach cardigan, but realised it was in the kitchen—muddy and probably ruined. The memory of Sorrow wearing it made her titter. It all seemed like a loopy dream now, and she was no longer sure it had even happened.

In the kitchen, she met her dad. He was leaning over an impressive tower of buttery toast and seemed particularly perky this morning. Scarlet had not inherited her father’s love of early starts.

“Hey, Scarlet. Get some breakfast down you before work.”

“Thanks. Any Marmite?”

“No, sorry. I’ll go the supermarket when I get chance, promise.”

“Okay.”

Instead of looking away, he stared at her for a moment. Eventually, she had to ask him what was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I just can’t believe you’re so grown; up and ready for a day at work. Seems like only yesterday I was carrying you around on my shoulders at Alton Towers. You remember that?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it was the year mum left.”

His face fell and he stared into his coffee. “Yes, well, I suppose things really were different back then. We’ve come a long way, though, don’t you think?”

Scarlet hated seeing him brood over her mum—sometimes he could do it for days—so she changed the subject. “How’s the new job coming? They appreciate the long hours you’ve been doing?”

“I hope so; otherwise it’s all for nothing. To be honest, it took me a while to get to grips with the new role after so long in my old one. I’ve just started to find my feet, but things seem to be coming along.”

“Maybe you won’t be away so much then,” she added.

“Scarlet, you know I would be home more often if I could.”

“Would you?”

“Yes! I’m just so afraid of things falling apart again. I’m doing all I can to keep a hold of my job. Things aren’t so bad, are they? I mean, we have this nice little house, and you have your part time job. Have you made any friends yet?”

“If you’d spoken to me in the last month you would know the answer to that question is: Not so much.”

With a sigh, he headed over to the sink and placed his empty coffee mug inside. Then he stood for a moment with his back to her. When he turned around, he looked sympathetic. “I was going to work this Saturday, but I’ll see about getting it off. Maybe we can go ice skating. There’s a rink in town, isn’t there?”

Scarlet loved to skate, so it was a hard offer for her to refuse. “There’s a rink next to the cinema. I suppose it could be fun.”

“Great, then it’s a date.” He came and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day at work, hun.”

“You too.”

He left and she finished her toast, enjoying the warm butter in her mouth, but missing the tartness of the Marmite. She’d woken up fully now, and decided that it did feel pretty darn good to start the day early. So often she would lie in bed all morning, but she had to admit that her mood felt better than it usually did when waking up at 11AM.

Once she was full on toast, she rinsed her plate beneath the hot tap and headed for the door. Before leaving, she spotted her peach cardigan hanging on a hook. It was stretched and muddy—proof that what happened last night was real. Sorrow had been real.

She locked the door on her way out and headed down the front path. When she passed the bus stop, she considered waiting, but then looked up at the shimmering sun and decided that she was not going to be deterred from taking her morning walk around the lake. The chances of bumping into Sorrow again were surely next to nothing, yet part of her was willing to take the risk.

Or was it more that she wanted to see him again?

She felt embarrassed at the notion of trying to bump into the weirdo, but it was possibly very true that she wanted to see him—if only to see that he was alright. Last night had excited her—a departure from the humdrum, lonely existence of her life. It had almost been an adventure.

Scarlet and the Naked Stranger beside the Lake.

“God, this is like something out of a crappy romance,” she muttered to herself. “If he turns out to be a vampire, then I’m grabbing a stake and shoving it in my eye.”

The lake was often quiet early in the morning, but when she got there she spotted a couple of people walking their dogs and a pensioner feeding the ducks. It made her feel safe, having people around, but she was also disappointed. Nobody had seen Sorrow except for her, and it felt like the only chance of seeing him again would be if she were alone.

She passed an old man walking a beagle.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

“Morning,” she said back.

She sighed and thought herself silly. What on earth was she doing? Hoping to run into Sorrow again was so immature. Why was she acting like a kid?

For the rest of her walk, she kept her head down and concentrated only on getting to work. If she wanted attention, then she could get it from Indy easily enough. He had made no secret of the fact that he fancied her, but she always felt queasy at the thought. He wasn’t bad looking, but he was such a… doof. She didn’t want to call him anything worse because he didn’t deserve it, but she could only imagine what a date with him would look like: McDonald's followed by paint-balling, most likely. She wanted a grown-up boyfriend—someone with a car who could take her places.

Why was she even thinking about boyfriends right now? Was it because she’d been thinking about Sorrow? Did she fancy him? He was so much older…

And crazy. Don’t forget the crazy.

She started to dawdle and, when she checked her watch, saw that she was running late. With a muffled curse, she picked up her pace. With the way Mr Chester had been eyeballing her from his office yesterday, the last thing she could afford was tardiness.

A jogger dodged around her, and then the path ahead was all clear, right up to the visitor’s centre where she could take the path into town. She considered changing from a walk to a jog, but when she passed the spot where Sorrow had been lying, she lingered. The tracks in the mud were still there, and seeing such evidence made everything surreal again. What on earth had happened to that strange man she had found at the edge of the lake?

A gust of cold air came across the lake and made her shiver. The sun retreated behind the clouds, taking all colour with it. A noise made her spin around, but when she looked, she saw nothing but an empty path.

The breeze coming off the surface of the lake picked up, and she shivered again. Summer had left and the trees on the other side of the path rustled. The back of her neck felt like someone had pinched it. The oddest feeling, but something in her blood cried out for her to get away from there. Earlier there had been people about, but now the lake was deserted, aside from the birds which sat perfectly still on the water.

She embarrassed herself by acting like a frightened little girl. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

No answer. Of course there was no answer. Either she was being paranoid, or some psychopath was about to kill her—in both situations, nobody was going to answer her calls.

God, Scarlet. You’re such a wet mess. Why would anybody want to hurt you?

She decided the only thing to shake off the willies would be to get to work, so she picked up her pace until she was almost jogging. She probably looked stupid, but right now no one was around to laugh at her. She wished she had taken the bus, but the longer she walked, the more she told herself she was being stupid. Eventually, the sun reappeared from behind the clouds and the foreboding greys were once again replaced by colour. The breeze from the lake fell away too, and she felt foolish. Why had she been so worried?

A man appeared up ahead, strolling down the path in her direction.

Scarlet laughed, and was glad nobody had seen her freak out.

The man walking towards her was tall—even from twenty metres away that much was clear. His hair was golden-blond and he wore a bright white shirt. A knight, come to rescue her from her childish fears. Whoever he was, she was glad to see him. This might be the last time she ever took a morning walk beside the lake.

Now close enough to see the man’s handsome face, Scarlet gave a bright smile.

The man did not return it.

With an amount of fury Scarlet had never witnessed before, the man leapt at her like a maniac. It was only the fact that she had already been on edge, already jumpy, that allowed her to react quickly enough to dodge out of the way.

The man whirled and snatched out again. This time he caught her by the wrist.

Scarlet screamed as the flesh on her arm burned. The man had something in his hand—something scorching hot.

“You’re hurting me,” she screamed, tears exploding from her eyes.

The man showed no concern, looking at her with nothing but hatred. “You are the Spark. I am here to extinguish you.”

“Get off me! Help! HELP ME!”

“I will help you,” her attacker snarled. “I will help you before it is too late.” He raised his other hand towards her face, fingers open like a sharp clamp. She could feel the heat coming off his fingers against her eyebrows.

“You’re a monster,” she screamed.

“I am not the monster.”

The burning hand was only an inch away from her face now, and her eyes watered under the intense heat, so she closed them.

Something collided into Scarlet and sent her sprawling down the embankment. She came to rest with one leg in the water, and only just managed to keep herself from sliding into the lake. Her wrist burned, and the wind had been knocked out of her. She tried to sob, but was in too much shock.

Somebody had come to her rescue. Another stranger raced down the hill towards her. No, not a stranger. It was Sorrow, still dressed in her father’s jeans and shirt—and still barefoot. Her attacker was still on his feet and marching towards her too, but Sorrow leapt into the air and pummelled him. He drove a knee into the other man’s head and shoved him down to the ground. Then he turned to Scarlet. “You need to get out of here now.”

“Sorrow? W-what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I’m certain it has something to do with you.”

“How did you know I would come back here?”

“I didn’t. I never left you. You slept during the night, but I stayed close. Now get out of here, before he comes for you again.”

“W-who is he?”

“JUST GO!”

The force of Sorrow’s voice made her flinch—like a physical force knocking her back—so she turned and fled up the bank, ignoring the startled lady who was standing on the path with a bicycle by her side. Only once did Scarlet dare to look back, and when she did, she saw that Sorrow had fallen to his knees and was being beaten harshly by the enraged blond man. She considered going back to help him, but went for her phone instead. She cursed when she couldn’t find it. Her jean pocket was ripped open and her phone had been inside. She knew only one safe place to go and get help, so she broke into a run and headed for work.

~ Chapter Five ~

When Scarlet made it through the front door of the Little Treasures Emporium, she was a mess. Her jean pocket was hanging down, her cheeks were stained with tears and mascara, and she was about to keel over from exhaustion.

Indy moved from behind the counter right away. “Hey, Scar, what the hell? Are you okay?”

She shoved past him, not wanting to be on display. “I need to call the police,” she shouted. “I’ve been attacked.”

Indy chased her into the back area. “Frakkin’ hell! You want me to go out and get the guy? He didn’t… you know?”

Scarlet slumped against the table and looked at him. “Didn’t what? You mean… Eww, No. Someone just grabbed me, but another man saved me, and now I have to call the police and make sure he’s okay.”

Mr Chester stormed out of his office. “What on earth is going on out here? Indy, why have you left the shop floor?”

“Scarlet’s been attacked.”

Mr Chester glanced at Scarlet and his face fell. “My word, are you okay? Sit down, sit down.”

She collapsed into a chair and felt like she would never get up again. She was still panting heavily and could feel her cheeks glistening with tears. “He… I… This psycho just came at me by the lake. He grabbed my arm and… and…” She glanced down at her wrist, where the blond man had grabbed her. There was the blistered imprint of a large hand. “He burned me. Look! He burned me just by touching me.”

Indy looked at her, deep creases in his forehead despite his youth. “Who was he, Scar?”

“I have no freakin’ idea, but someone saved me. I need to call the police.”

Mr Chester bent low so he was looking directly in her eyes. “Somebody saved you? Do you know who it was?”

She shook her head, but then rethought and nodded. “I met a man last night by the lake. He was… It doesn’t matter, but he was the one who saved me. He was right there when I needed him.”

Indy was shaking his head. “I’m struggling to understand, Scar. You met a man by the lake last night and today he saved you from another man by the lake who attacked you? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Look at my goddamn arm.”

Mr Chester took off his spectacles and gave one of the rubber temple tips an anxious nibble. “Did this man—the man who attacked you—say anything?”

“No… Wait, yes. He said I was… The Spark, and that he was going to extinguish me. Crazy, huh?”

“Yes, crazy indeed.” Mr Chester turned and wandered to the rear of the room with his back to them.

“I’ll go call the police,” said Indy. “Should I close up the shop, Mr Chester?”

“What? Oh, yes, I suppose you should.”

Indy raced off to the shop floor while Mr Chester turned around to face Scarlet again. “Are you okay? Can I do anything?”

She shook her head. “It’s just the shock of it, that’s all. I’m okay, except for my arm.”

“Of course, let me deal with that.” He went into the office and returned with a green plastic First Aid box. When he opened it, he pulled out a bandage and sat down beside Scarlet. He began wrapping her wound.

She winced.

“Sorry, I’ll try to be careful,” he said. “Such a strange thing to happen, all this. You’re only sixteen years old.”

She looked at him. “So?”

“Oh, I just meant that you’re a child. Why would somebody attack you?”

“I’m not a child.”

“No, of course not. I just meant that you are innocent. Only a real monster would attack an innocent girl.”

Scarlet thought back to the incident, because something had occurred to her. “Monster? I called the man who attacked me a monster, but he said that he was not the monster. I’m not sure what he meant.”

“Like you say, he was probably crazy, or perhaps inebriated—best not to try and make sense of it. At least your friend was there to protect you.” He raised his voice at the end of that last sentence, as if he wished for her to elaborate.

“He’s not my friend. I don’t even know his name—well, not his real one, anyway. I was walking home last night and found him by the lake with no clothes on. I think he almost drowned. Lucky I was there.”

Mr Chester rubbed his chin. “He came out of the lake?”

“No, not out of the lake. I found him on the bank next to the water. I took him home and gave him some clothes, but then he disappeared—until he came out of nowhere to save me today, that is.”

“I think, maybe, he was a part of what happened, Scarlet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he was probably part of some scam. You took him to your home, yes? Perhaps he looked around, then arranged for his partner to kidnap or rob you. I’m not sure on the details—I lack a ruffian’s mind—but it’s too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”

Scarlett thought about Sorrow and struggled to accuse him. There was something about him—a gentleness—that told her he was genuine. Insane, but genuine. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, “but then why did he save me when I was attacked? What was he hoping to gain?”

“Your trust? Perhaps playing hero is part of his plan. You should be careful, Scarlet. If you see either man again, you should come get me right away, or go to your father. In the meantime, we shall inform the police of everything you have told me.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

Why did it feel like she was betraying Sorrow by telling the police about him?

Mr Chester looked at her sadly. “We’ll get things sorted out, Scarlet. I prom-”

“Eh, guys?” Indy shouted from the shop floor.

Mr Chester stood up. “Yes, what is it?”

“There’s a guy here, and he isn’t wearing any shoes.”

Scarlet leapt up. “That’s Sorrow!”

Mr Chester frowned. “Who?”

“The man who saved me. Come on!”

She raced out onto the shop floor where she did indeed find Sorrow. He was hunched over a shelving display at the side of the store. It was stacked with glass trinkets that all teetered back and forth precariously. When he spotted Scarlet, his face lit up, and she wondered if hers did the same.

She felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Scarlet! You are safe.” He pushed himself away from the shelving and was able to stand upright on his own, but he didn’t look comfortable.

“How did you know to find me here?”

“I sensed you were here.” He collapsed onto his knees and spotted the floor with blood. “I am… unwell.”

Scarlet ran to his aid.

Indy came to help her. “What the hell is going on, Scar?” he asked, obviously flummoxed.

“I have no idea, but he helped me, so I want to help him.”

Mr Chester hurried over to the front door and turned the latch. Then he twiddled the dial on the blinds to shut the world out. “This is ridiculous,” he shouted, glaring at his uninvited visitor, bleeding on his floor. “Who is this man? Indy, when will the police get here?”

Indy shook his head. “I never made the call, boss. This guy was hanging around outside and, when I opened the door to see what his deal was, he collapsed on top of me. Why isn’t he wearing any shoes?”

Mr Chester clenched his fists. “You didn’t call them? Damn it, Indy, if you want something done right…”

Sorrow moaned loudly, and slumped forwards onto his knees. A ragged scorch mark lined his stomach, and it was weeping blood. He struggled to raise a hand, and reached out to Scarlet. “If I could sense you were here, then so will he.”

Scarlet bent down and put her head under his arm. “Who? The man who attacked me?”

“Yes, he called himself The Saint. Told me I was-”

The sound of the phone slamming down on its cradle made them flinch and look towards the counter. Mr Chester was standing there, his face fallen like wax beside a flame. “It can’t be,” he spoke slowly, softly, in tones of disbelief. “It simply cannot be.”

Scarlet paused a beat, then asked, “What is it?”

Her boss seemed to be growing paler by the second. He slipped from behind the counter and came and grabbed Sorrow by one of his arms. “Indy, grab his other side. Scarlet, stay away, you’re in danger. We all are.”

Indy was shaking his head desperately. “Please, don’t tell me this guy has herpes or something.”

Scarlet ignored Indy and looked at Mr Chester. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”

“Just help me get this creature in the back,” he said. “I’ll explain everything.”

***

Two minutes later, they eased Sorrow down into a chair. Scarlet was stroking his cheek, trying to keep him from passing out, but she seemed to be losing the battle. He was hurt bad, but whenever she suggested calling an ambulance, Mr Chester wouldn’t allow it. “He doesn’t need a doctor,” he would say. Eventually, he slipped into his office and returned a moment later with something in his hand. When Scarlet saw that it was a crucifix, she was confused.

Sorrow hissed like a snake and threw up his hands to shield his face. All Mr Chester had done was hold the cross up in front of him.

“Stop it,” Scarlet shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Damn it! He’s a stinky vampire,” Indy shouted, but then he seemed to reconsider. “He was outside in the sun, though. Plus, he’s bleeding. Vampires’ hearts don’t beat, and they don’t get injured. Maybe he’s a—”

“He’s a demon,” Mr Chester snarled, still holding up the crucifix. “A creature from the bottomless pits.”

Sorrow lashed out and whipped the crucifix out of his face. “You speak lies!”

“I do not. You are a minion of darkness, sent here to see that the Great Turmoil takes place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Scarlet demanded.

“Hell is exactly what I am talking about, dear girl. This creature before us is pure evil.”

“No, he’s not. He saved me. You’re acting crazier than he is.”

Mr Chester seemed to lose some of his anger to confusion, and when he studied Scarlet, he said nothing. Eventually, he put his head in his hands and just moaned. Gently, he muttered: “This doesn’t make any sense. No sense at all.”

In the corner of the room, Indy had frozen like a statue. Every now and then he mumbled something, but not loud enough to hear clearly. The last comment sounded like something about his mum.

“What is happening?” Scarlet yelled. “Why is everybody insane? Or is it me?”

“Yes,” Mr Chester snapped. “This is all because of you. I can’t believe you were right under my bloody nose this whole time!”

Scarlet was lost for words, but Indy had some. “Boss, you seem to have some kind of an issue with Scar. Did she do something to you?”

“It’s not about what she’s done. It’s about what she’s going to do.”

Scarlet found her voice again, but it was a fearful croak, and she realised she was crying for the second time that day. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Mr Chester gave her a hard stare, but he seemed conflicted and allowed himself to soften, eventually sighing. “Okay, I’ll explain, but first things first.” He went into the small kitchenette and made them all cups of tea, bringing over a rattling tray a moment later. His nerves were obviously bad, but when Scarlet took one of the mugs, she realised her hands were shaking too.

Mr Chester sat down and rested his mug in his lap. He sighed before he started talking. “The man who attacked you, Scarlet—The Saint—is an Agent of Light. He is a defender of all that is good and pure.”

Scarlet almost laughed then. “And he wants to hurt me?”

“Not hurt you, Scarlet. Kill you.”

“Shit, that’s heavy,” said Indy.

“Why does he want to kill me?

“Because you are The Spark.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“The Spark is a being prophesied to destroy existence—this world and many others.”

Indy’s mouth dropped open. He lifted his hand and pointed at Scarlet. “Scar, are you like Patient Zero or something? Are we all going to get a disease that makes our skin peel off?”

Mr Chester waved his hand. “She isn’t infectious, Indy—at least not with any sort of disease. The Spark is a cursed entity, destined to reignite the Great Flame and begin the Great Turmoil.”

There was silence in the room as both Scarlet and Indy looked dumbfounded. Sorrow remained hunched over and bleeding.

“Magic,” Mr Chester went on. “The Spark will bring magic back to the world.”

“So what,” said Indy. “Magic is cool. Life would be a lot cooler with a little bit of D&D rules thrown in.”

“Magic is not cool, Indy. It is evil. There are ancient creatures in this world, all of them currently powerless, but when the Great Flame is reignited, these creatures will regain their black talents and resume their sinister intents. The world will become a cesspit of misery.”

“Because of me?” said Scarlet. “I think I want to go home now. You’re upsetting me. Why are you trying to upset me?”

“I’m not trying to upset you, Scarlet. It’s the truth—and you can’t leave. Do you really think the problem is me? This creature—allergic to crosses and bleeding on my floor—is the problem. Everything I am telling you is true, Scarlet. Manah is a fallen angel. Once he had wings upon his back and answered men’s prayers. Then he turned towards a darker path. You are a pawn in Evil’s grand plan, and he is the agent tasked with manipulating you.”

Scarlet thought about the scars on Sorrow’s back. Could they have once held wings? “Fine,” she said. “Say that I believe you. How do you know all of this?”

Mr Chester straightened up proudly. He spoke with a lofty authority. “Because I’m a Guardian—and my father before me, and his before him. I came to Redlake because the organisation of which I am a part narrowed down the location of The Spark to this town. All of the ancient texts—”

“You’re crazy,” she spat, and stood up. “I want to get out of here. I want my dad.”

“Calm down, Scarlet. We need to figure this all out. The prophecy was not supposed to come true for another two years, and The Spark is supposed to come of age first—eighteen years old. You are only sixteen.”

She covered her ears. “Then you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

“Scarlet?” It was Sorrow speaking. He had managed to lift his head. “I’m here to protect you, I know it. Please, do not fear.”

“I don’t believe any of this. You’re all playing a mean prank on me.”

“Yeah,” said Indy. “I don’t believe any of it either. Enough is enough. Who are you, man? What game are you playing?” He was looking at Sorrow.

Sorrow lifted his head again, and this time managed to keep it there. “I do not know. My memory is… muddled, but I feel… I know that I am here to protect Scarlet.”

Indy nodded. “Good. I want to keep her safe too, but if she’s this big Sparky-Doodle, then doesn’t that make us the bad guys? Mr Chester said you’re a demon.”

“He is,” Mr Chester reiterated. “An evil monster.”

“I do not believe I am evil,” Sorrow objected. “I wish only to see Scarlet safe from harm. Is that wrong?”

Mr Chester looked like he had an answer, but he didn’t give it. He lifted his mug with shaking hands and sipped his tea. “The creature trying to harm her is, for all intents and purposes, an angel, so trust me, Sorrow is evil. I have devoted my life to this moment. I just had no idea it would be such a complicated mess. I need to speak with my colleagues.”

“Who are your colleagues?” Indy asked. “You said you were part of an organisation.”

“Yes, I am a member of the White Order—a secret society. A force of good in a world threatened by darkness. One of the noblest and most ancient of groups. I cannot tell you anymore. Our secrets have been kept for thousands-”

“The White Order is a members only community of mystics, scientists, and historians,” said Indy in a smug tone. “Believed to have been formed in 1266 by the Catholic Church in Damascus; it is dedicated to the understanding and advancement of mankind through charitable and mutually beneficial means.”

Mr Chester’s jaw fell open.

Indy held up his smartphone. “You guys have a webpage.”

“Yes, well, it was decided that it was better to hide in plain sight. We have a front as a benevolent fellowship, much like the Masons, but our true purpose is to stop the Great Turmoil and other threats to human existence.”

Scarlet wandered towards the shop floor, feeling like she had been drugged. Her mind was so dizzy that she felt like she was about to take off and float.

Sorrow sprang up after her. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Home. I can’t deal with any of this.”

“The Saint will still be looking for you,” said Mr Chester. “He will find you. We need to keep you safe.”

She turned on her boss and growled. “Keep me safe? Didn’t you say I’m the walking apocalypse? Don’t you want to see me dead? Isn’t that your job?”

He went to speak, but his lips moved without sound.

Scarlet accepted it as his answer and marched out onto the shop floor. Her hands were still shaking, so it took several attempts to unlatch the door, but eventually she managed an exit.

Morning was long underway, and the little shops on the high street were all beginning to fill with customers. Outside the town’s blue-fronted chain-store bakery, a fat woman in a scooter munched on a sausage roll. A couple of drunks stumbled around outside the bookies, after having littered the town’s bandstand with empty, crumpled beer cans. The world was exactly as it should be—not great, and definitely not magical. People were going about their lives, worried only about getting to work on time or paying their rent, not about supernatural apocalypses. What a load of nonsense, Scarlet told herself angrily. Magic, monsters, saints. She didn’t believe in any of it. All rubbish.

“Scarlet, I must accompany you.”

She turned to find Sorrow catching up to her.

“Just leave me alone!”

“I cannot allow The Saint to hurt you. I will die first.”

“You don’t even know me.”

He looked hurt. “Perhaps, but I feel the person you are. I sense your misery and your loneliness. I sense them because I feel them too. We are both alone and afraid, but we have each other.”

“Ha! You’re an idiot.”

He went on undeterred. “I also sense your courage and your compassion. When I am around you, my skin tingles with energy. We are connected.”

“Yeah, you’re my demon bodyguard—my evil pet.”

“I am no pet.”

“But you are evil?”

His brow wrinkled, and he looked sadder than Scarlet had ever seen anybody look before. “I… do not know,” he admitted. “Is it evil to protect something innocent? Something beautiful?”

Scarlet blushed, but kept a hold of her anger; it was the only thing keeping her together. “I’m going home.”

“Then we shall go together.”

“No! Please, Sorrow, just leave me alone. I don’t want your protection. You’re not even wearing any shoes.”

Sorrow looked down at his dirty feet while she stormed off. When she looked back, she was pleased to see that he had disappeared.

~ Chapter Six~

This time, Scarlet took the bus home. Whenever she walked beside the lake, her life seemed to get more complicated, so she was determined to give it a miss from now on. It was confusing that she hadn’t decided to call the police after everything that had happened, but the truth was that she just wanted to forget it for now. She was through with Little Treasures Emporium and Mr Chester. She would find another job. And if she saw Sorrow or the Saint again, she would most definitely call the police. She needed to be careful in the meantime; the blond man had really been planning to hurt her. He might believe the same nonsense her boss had spun her.

Should she tell her dad?

Tell him what?

Hi, dad. I got attacked this morning by a giant who calls himself, ‘The Saint’, but I was saved by a demon, who I nicknamed ‘Sorrow’. My, now ex-boss says it’s all because I’m something called ‘The Spark’ and I’m going to bring magic back to the world. Apparently, that’s bad.

If this is a nightmare, then I’m ready to wake up.

She was about to walk up the front path, when she spotted a police car parked up on the curb. No officers sat inside the vehicle, so where were they?

She went up the front path and found her front door unlocked. She suddenly panicked, and hoped her dad was okay, while she quickly stepped inside; but he was standing in the living room, safe and sound. A pair of police officers stood with him, and the house looked like it had been turned upside down.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

“We’ve been burgled, honey.”

Scarlet looked around and saw the broken television and the strewn sofa cushions. “What did they take?”

Her father frowned. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

One of the two male police officers turned to Scarlet and smiled. “To be honest, it looks more like someone broke in just to cause damage. One of the neighbours called your father and described a large man with blond hair. Does that ring any bells?”

Scarlet didn’t know the tears were coming until they were halfway down her cheeks. Third time today. Her lower lip quivered as she spoke. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Her dad rushed over and hugged her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s probably just some druggies trying to get their kicks. It’s over and done with now.”

She pushed him back and shook her head. “No, it’s not. I was attacked this morning by the same man who probably did this. I don’t know what he wants.”

Her dad’s expression sagged in horror, and he teetered from side to side. The police officers closed in around Scarlet, questions firing. “You know the man who did this? Explain to us what’s happening, Scarlet, and take your time.”

So she told them the story, starting with the naked man by the lake and ending with the attack on her in almost the same spot, but there was where she stopped. She didn’t want to get into the whole insane fairytale that Mr Chester had told her. The police would probably lock her up for being loopy if she repeated that crazy yarn, so she told them enough to investigate: that two strange men had inserted themselves into her life, and that one had attacked her. Once she took the bandage off her arm and showed them the burn mark, they were all shocked. Her dad went teary-eyed—which surprised her. One of the police officers took photographs with his phone, while his partner took down a few more notes. Then they left the house together.

Her dad locked the door behind them and put on the security chain. “What have you got yourself into, Scarlet?”

“What? Nothing, dad, I swear.”

“Then why would somebody attack you?”

“I don’t know! You were the one who said not to walk alone by the lake. I should have listened to you.”

“You’re really telling the truth?”

“Yes, I swear. I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m scared.”

He pulled her close and stroked her hair like he had when she was a child. “It’s okay now. Nobody is going to hurt you. I’ll drive you to work tomorrow and pick you up.”

“Yeah, about that… I’m not going back to my job.”

He moved her away so that he could look at her. “What? Why?”

She considered telling him that Mr Chester was a few strawberries short of a punnet, but instead, she simply said: “I just don’t want to work there anymore. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“Scarlet, don’t you think you should have found somewhere else first, before quitting? What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“I’m sixteen, dad. Most girls my age are hanging around doing nothing.”

“And you want to be like them? You want to waste your life doing nothing?”

“I’m not wasting my life. It was just a stupid job.”

“That you walked out on. You won’t get a reference now.”

Scarlet clutched her forehead and groaned. “Look, I can’t deal with this right now, okay, so just lay off.”

“Fine, then just go to your room while I sort out this mess. If I find out that you know more about what happened…”

“I don’t,” she snapped, “so just leave me alone!” She stormed up the stairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Like the living room, it had also been ransacked. She tidied up as much as she was able, and then sat down on her bed. It was then that she realised something was missing.

She spent the next ten minutes searching high and low for her mother’s necklace, but it had vanished. It’d been hanging on a small display-stand on her dressing table, as it always did, but the stand was on its side. All of her other jewellery was present—rings, ear studs, and bracelets—everything except for her mother’s necklace—the only thing she had left of a woman she barely remembered. Had The Saint stolen it? Or had her dad removed it? She wasn’t in the mood to ask him about it right now, but she was almost certain he wouldn’t have touched it—it meant too much to her. So, if it was The Saint who had taken it, why?

Too exhausted for thinking, she lay down on her bed. It was only a little after noon, but she closed her eyes. Life had become a droning headache, and she just wanted to shut it off and stop existing for a while. So that’s what she did.

***

When she awoke, she was sweaty and laying in darkness. She checked the clock beside her bed and saw that it was 3AM. She’d slept for almost twelve hours.

She bolted upright and clutched her forehead as a stab of lightning struck her skull behind the eyes. The ache had been there before she’d gone to sleep, but now it was worse. The throbbing had progressed from a woodpecker’s tap to a workman’s drill. Maybe she was dying? Lying in a coma somewhere and just imagining everything she had been told about monsters and mayhem.

She slid out from beneath her covers and stood up. Her mind turned immediately to food, and her belly cried out in hunger. The last time she’d eaten was breakfast—yesterday.

Quietly, not wanting to wake her dad, she crept out of her room and went across the landing to the stairs. The staircase was carpeted, but still creaked with every step she took. Each sound made her wince and pause, listening out for movement from her dad’s room. There was something instinctively naughty about creeping around at night while others slept.

Finally reaching the living room below, she let out a sigh. Her dad hadn’t woken—or at least he’d made no sound to suggest he had. She was still upset with him, although part of her understood why he was upset with her. The problem was that he didn’t understand everything that had happened. He was looking at things as a parent, daddy-blinkers firmly attached to his head.

It felt like something was attached to her head too—something heavy.

She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, enjoying the cool blanket of air that leapt out at her. The first thing that called out to her was a sealed box of spicy chicken wings—eat hot or cold. She snatched the box and pierced the plastic film with her jagged, half-painted thumbnail. The first bite was Heaven, the second Nirvana. She chewed and swallowed endlessly until all that was left was a box of sticky chicken bones.

Realising that she had hot sauce and bird skin all over her lips and fingers, she threw the box in the bin and hurried over to the sink. She twisted on the cold tap and began swilling her filthy fingertips and face beneath the stream.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a pig.

She poured a glass of water and forced herself to sip it slowly, instead of downing it in one chug like she wanted. Her body felt empty, like there was a gaping black hole in her tummy that needed to be filled. Her head began to throb less, but the ache remained with her.

She felt hot, her skin clammy.

Fresh air. She needed fresh air, so she hurried over to the back door and turned the latch. To her dismay, she discovered that the night outside was just as stifling as it was indoors. She growled, surprising herself by how feral she sounded. Something was wrong, like her mind had drifted a few inches outside of her head and was now misaligned with her body. Her thoughts were muddled and unfocused. And she was hot.

So hot.

She stepped out onto the lawn in her bare feet, enjoying the soft yield of the cool grass, and then sat down on the swinging bench that her dad had bought last May but still had not used to this hot, August night. It was a cheap, self-assembly item from the supermarket, but it was surprisingly comfortable now that she eased back into it. Sailing back and forth caused a light breeze on her hot cheeks that felt sublime. Slowly, her mind shifted back into its correct position.

“Scarlet?”

Scarlet flinched, which sent the bench swinging backwards faster. Once she swung forwards again, she saw the shadow of a man in the garden with her.

“Sorrow? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I am guarding you.”

“You’re stalking me,” she managed to snap, while keeping her voice to a whisper. “I should call the police. Did you take my mother’s necklace?”

“I took no necklace.”

She dug her heels into the mud to stop the bench from swinging, and then sat upright. “Then it was your pal, The Saint. He broke into our house and partied like a freakin’ rockstar.”

Sorrow came over to her, so that he was standing right in front of the bench. “What is a ‘freakin’ rockstar’?”

“Someone who likes to smash other people’s furniture,” she explained. “Don’t worry about it.”

The expression on Sorrow’s face showed little understanding. Once again, she got the feeling that he meant her no harm and was confused about things as much as she was.

“Are you hurt, Scarlet?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just angry that your blond-pal took my mother’s necklace. It’s all I had from her.”

Sorrow frowned. “You keep calling The Saint my pal, yet I do not know him—other than him being a threat to you.”

“Whatever. He’s resorted to petty thievery now, so maybe he’s done trying to kill me.”

“This necklace, I will get it back for you.”

She laughed. “Great, then I won’t have to go back inside and call the police on you; although, God knows I should. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for me, Sorrow?”

“No. I am here because of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

He looked at her earnestly, his face an unflinching, marble slab. “Yes, I do. I am here to ensure that you grow into the great woman you are supposed to be.”

“Who are you, Sorrow? Do you not remember anything at all?”

He shook his head and seemed troubled. “I see flashes. Troubling images come to me, but I cannot make them out properly. They are upsetting.”

“If you were sent here to protect me, why did you lose your memory?”

“I do not know. Perhaps it is part of a plan.”

“You don’t even know that there is a plan.”

“Your angry pal, Mr Chester, seemed to believe that there was. Perhaps he can continue to explain things for us.”

“You believe all that stuff he said?”

“It sounded… plausible.”

“Then that would make us both evil,” she said.

Sorrow reached out to her. She went to move aside, but his hand settled on her shoulder before she had a chance. “That is the part with which I disagree. Nothing as beautiful as you could ever be evil.”

Scarlet hated herself for blushing, but she did so in full force. Her mind conjured embarrassing images of her ruddy cheeks lighting up the dark.

Unexpectedly, she yawned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. “I just woke up, and I feel sleepy again.”

Sorrow sat down beside her on the swinging bench, close enough that they were touching. He seemed confused by the movement at first, but eventually managed to perch himself securely. “Things will find their proper balance.”

“You need to learn to talk like a normal person, d’you know that? And get some shoes!”

“Shoes matter to you?”

“No,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Not really.”

“Then what does matter to you? I have no possessions, but I will seek to gain whatever you think I need.”

The thought of Sorrow having nothing made her sad. It wasn’t a surprise, considering he had come from some other dimension—or something—but it was still sad. He seemed so lost and confused all the time, yet always brave.

She thought of something. Reaching to her neck, she grabbed at her pendant. “I have something for you to have.”

“What is it? I would very much like to have it.”

She chuckled. “You don’t even know what it is yet.” She took off the pendant and split the dove in two. Gently, she pulled Sorrow’s head forward and fastened one half around his neck. Then she put the other half back around her own neck. It felt nice to only have one half. “There, now you have something. It’s a pendant. I have one half, and you have the other. It means we are friends.”

Sorrow smiled wide enough that his straight, white teeth almost lit up the darkness. “Thank you. Our talismans will bind us. It is a wonderful gift, of which I am not worthy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, chuckling again. “Calm down, it’s just a necklace. Look after it, though, because I’m still making payments.”

“Payments?”

“Nevermind. It just me—” A yawn escaped her.

“You are tired, kind Scarlet. You should sleep.”

“I know, but I’m just going to stay here for a while. It’s too hot to go inside just yet.” She eased herself back into the bench and fought a losing battle against her drooping eyelids. The gentle swinging started lulling her to sleep within moments. She had not expected to fall asleep again so easily.

***

The birds invaded her dreams before they did her reality. For a while, she imagined she was sitting in a rowboat in the centre of the town’s lake. Chirping robins and foraging sparrows surrounded her in the sky, but when her eyes fluttered open, she realised that the chorus was from the trees in her garden. She was lying on the swinging bench, while the morning sun hurt her eyes.

Shoving herself upright, she glanced around, blinking. Sorrow sat on the grass against the fence and showed no expression on his face as he watched her. His voice, however, was full of concern when he spoke. “Scarlet, you are awake.”

“How long was I out?”

“From night until day.”

She rolled her eyes, and decided to get the answer from her watch instead. It was almost 8AM. “Have you just been sitting there for the last four hours?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Where else would I go?”

There was a noise from inside the house.

“Sorrow, you need to leave! My dad will be getting ready for work. He can’t see you.”

“Okay, I will meet you at Mr Chester’s trinket house.”

“What? I’m not going back there.”

“But we need answers, and he may have them.”

She didn’t like it, but it was true. “Okay, fine. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Until then, kind Scarlet.”

“Yeah, okay, weird demon-man.”

Sorrow disappeared and Scarlet headed inside. She made it into the kitchen just as her dad entered wearing his suit and tie. “Oh!” he said, startled. “You’re up!”

“I, eh, didn’t sleep well, so I decided to get up. You want coffee?”

“No, thanks, hun I’m running late. I didn’t sleep well either. I’m sorry I shouted at you yesterday. If you’re not happy at your job, then of course you shouldn’t stay there. Things are just tough at the moment, and I want the best for you. I thought a job would keep you out of trouble.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have just walked out. I’m going back there this morning to talk to Mr Chester.”

He looked surprised. “You are?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about things. I don’t want to get into trouble either. What happened back when we lived in Birmingham… It won’t happen again, okay? I want to be an adult.”

“That’s very mature, Scarlet, I’m proud of you. Hopefully Mr Chester will forgive you.”

Scarlet almost frowned at that, but forced a smile instead. “Yeah, hopefully. I’ll have to speak to him; see what he has to say today.”

“And if he doesn’t forgive you, we’ll find you someplace else—somewhere that will look good on your CV when you start applying to colleges.”

“Can we talk about college some other time? I have a lot going on right now.”

“Like what?” He looked uncomfortable. “Boys?”

She stiffened. “In a way.”

“Oh, Scarlet, please don’t end up getting pregnant, or something just as bad.”

“Dad, what have I ever done to make you think things like that about me? I might have taken a bit of dope at my last school, and yeah, I might have got expelled, but that doesn’t make me a slut. I’m not going to get pregnant, okay? I’m not even seeing anybody.” He looked relieved, but she was so angry right now that her mouth was acting on its own. “You know, maybe you should try judging yourself for once. You’re not exactly dad of the year. Mum left us ten years ago, and you still take it out on me. You think I’m going to turn into some kind of massive bitch and leave you, but the truth is that mum left because of you, not because of anything I did.”

He reeled backwards as if she had slapped him, and when he recovered, he was furious. His dark eyebrows formed an angry V. “What’s got into you? How dare you say those things to me, Scarlet. I work my fingers to the bone to feed you, clothe—”

“You work your fingers to the bone because you would rather be anywhere else than at home with me. Maybe I should get pregnant. Least then I would have some company.”

“Go to your room this instant.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She sneered. “I spent all of yesterday in my room, and now you want me to spend all of today in there too? I’ll tell you what: I’ll just go seal myself up and you can push food under the door. That way you won’t even have to look at me anymore.”

He might actually have gone to slap her then, but he stopped himself from doing whatever he had planned and just stood there. When he spoke again, he spoke very slowly. “You have a job to go and beg for. I suggest you get dressed and get out, but I want you home by six o’clock, because we’re going to have a talk.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Scarlet had to fight back the tears as she fled upstairs. What had got into her?

~ Chapter Seven ~

Scarlet did not walk from the bus stop in town, she marched. When she entered the Little Treasures Emporium, the door crashed into the wall so hard that the glass pane almost cracked. Mr Chester was nowhere to be seen, but Indy was kneeling down on the floor stocking a shelf.

“We’re not open yet—oh, hey, Scar, you’re back. I was worried about you. I tried to call…”

“I lost my phone. Where’s Mr Chester?”

“In the back, but wait…”

Scarlet didn’t wait. She went behind the counter and into the back, where she found her ex-boss standing in the middle of the room as if he’d been waiting for her. “Scarlet,” he said. “I’m glad you came. We need to try and solve this.”

She placed her hands on her hips and pulled a face she imagined was not pretty. “Understatement of the century. Saint Psychopath broke into my house yesterday. I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to me if I’d been home.”

“Did he take anything?”

“He took my mother’s necklace.”

“Hmm, okay. Let’s go into the office. Sorrow is already waiting for us.”

Scarlet looked to her right and saw that her ‘demon bodyguard’ was sitting on a chair next to the messy desk. She shoved past Mr Chester and went to join him.

“Scarlet, you are safe. That pleases me immensely.”

“Yeah, um, likewise.”

Mr Chester came into the office and sat down. He laced his fingers together on this polished desk and sighed. “This has been a very… complicated couple of days.” His eyes went to Scarlet. “For you, more than anybody.”

“I don’t want sympathy. I just want to know how to go back to my normal life. Blondie needs locking up—angel, or not.”

“He’s not an angel, strictly speaking. Demons, angels, Heaven, Hell, and all the other things we fill our movies and books with, are just manmade creations—fiction. The truth of the universe is far greater than good and bad. Like the species of Earth, there are a myriad of creatures beyond the limits of what is known. Heaven and Hell are just concepts, but they represent the idea that there are other existences besides this single one we inhabit. There are creatures and lifeforms we cannot even imagine. The White Order is dedicated to keeping the earth safe from these things that lie beyond our reality. Our existence is in constant danger, and while there are some forces that seek to protect humanity—like The Saint, for instance—there are many more which seek to gain dominion over it.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You’re talking nonsense. I don’t want to hear that blondie is a good guy. He’s a maniac. You already knew that he stole my mother’s necklace, didn’t you? How?”

He reached down and pulled something up from beneath his desk. It was The Prophecies of Noy. “This text was written in Latin,” he explained, “but it has Florentine influences, too, which makes it rather complicated to translate. I was up most of last night going through it, trying to make some sense of it—and I did. The book describes everything, Scarlet, everything that is happening to you, The Saint, Sorrow. It’s all foretold.”

Scarlet leaned forward. “What do you mean? How could a book from hundreds of years ago know anything about me?”

“The book was sent to me by colleagues. The White Order already knew The Spark would rise in this location and sent me to bed in and be ready for its emergence. I had no idea I’d already found it. You are The Spark, Scarlet, and I should have realised it sooner. Your mother was a witch.”

“Screw you! You don’t know a thing about my mother, so don’t you dare insult her.”

He put his hands up. “No, Scarlet. I’m not seeking to demean your mother. I am being very literal. She was an Aldorian witch. Aldorians are devoted to the teachings of a 5th Century Ostrogophic priest named Aldorix.

“Aldor-what?”

“Aldorix. Aldorix was only a boy when he was visited by a creature named ‘The Oil’. It showed him how the world had been in times forgotten—the time before humanity oozed into existence, when great beings walked the earth. Aldorix saw how much power laid dormant and unreachable due to the meddling of a single being, known as The Father. You see, at the dawn of time, the being we might think of as God wove a great spell—a final spell. It banished all magical energy from our earth, and all of the creatures that thrived on magic were rendered impotent. Their weakness allowed humanity a chance to evolve and flourish, unthreatened by the monsters that would once have devoured them. By banishing all magic, The Father became our sole benefactor and protector. But the Old Ones never forgot his treachery.

“The Oil is one such creature who has never forgotten our green and pleasant land, and many hundreds of years ago, it promised Aldorix great power if he dedicated his life to the pursuit of bringing magic back to the world. So Aldorix became a priest of his own religion. His teachings spread all through Europe and reached many of the warriors during The Crusades. Many covens formed, and devoted themselves to his mission of bringing magic back. Eventually, Aldorix’s teachings reached all four corners of the globe. To this day, crones practise the black arts in his name, but they are nigh on powerless until The Great Turmoil arrives. That is why they have been waiting so long for The Spark to emerge.”

Scarlet folded her arms and frowned. “Witches are dumb. Are you saying they’re more than just a bunch of flowery weirdos with black dye in their hair?”

“Scarlet, witches are among the vilest beings on this planet, and your mother was one of them. Once I realised who you were, I was able to research your mother easily. Her name was Nesta, yes?”

Scarlet was shocked. “Yes! She was from Ireland. My dad met her when he was a student in Dublin.”

“She was a high priestess of Aldorix, and when she was your age, Scarlet, she bound herself to The Oil, the same spirit that visited Aldorix. The Oil lined her womb with traces of magic and allowed you to come into being as a creature of light. You are more than just a girl, Scarlet. You are the first magical being born in a millennium, and you have the power to change everything. Embodied in you is the end of humanity in its current form. Your mother’s necklace is key, because it is tied to you. If you die, your soul will migrate to the gemstone inside the amulet. Smashing it will free your disembodied soul and release The Spark. Think of it as a failsafe. Somebody kills you before you come of age, then the keeper of the amulet has a second chance to release The Spark. The Saint has taken it so that when he kills you, there will be no second chances. The amulet will forever remain in his possession, along with your soul.”

“You speak much,” said Sorrow finally. “But how much is truth, and how much is empty words from flapping gums?”

Mr Chester growled. He then slid the Prophecies of Noy across the table so that it fell open to the page with the sketch Scarlet thought looked like her. This time the page was covered in post-it notes and messy handwriting. The first memo her eyes fell upon read: The motherless child will become mother to endless light. Another read: Bound is her soul, to a prison of glass, that wreak havoc upon the Earth should it break. Another: Born hastily upon a day of great suffering, to bring about unstoppable strife.

“9/11,” she muttered. “The day I was born. A great day of suffering. ”

Sorrow looked at her with concern, and reached out to touch her arm. “Our actions determine our fate, nothing else.”

Mr Chester was shaking his head. “No, things are already set in motion. Scarlet, The Saint will seek to kill you now that he has the necklace. You will not gain your full powers until your eighteenth birthday, and if you die before then, the world will be safe now that he has your mother’s keepsake. The Aldorian disciples will have failed, and The Oil will need another century, at least, to find a way to force magic back into our reality.”

Scarlet felt tears coming again, but this time they came from anger rather than sadness. “So I should just kill myself, huh? You want me dead?” She clenched her fists, shook her head, and swallowed a lump. She wanted to hold onto the anger because it kept her together, kept away the fear, but it was too much. “I’m just a girl,” she said in a voice broken with emotion. “I don’t want to die.”

Mr Chester didn’t look away from her, even when it appeared to be very difficult for him to maintain eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you are not just a girl.”

“Nothing is going to hurt you,” Sorrow said forcefully. He seemed angry, and it was projected in his voice. “I am here to protect you”

Mr Chester grunted. “Yes, of course you are here to protect her. Your job is to keep The Spark intact until Scarlet comes of age, or obtain her mother’s necklace and break it, should she die. Your masters seek to dominate the earth and take back what they lost.”

“I serve no one,” he objected, his voice growing ever more forceful. “No one!”

Mr Chester sneered. “I did some research on you, Sorrow—although that’s not your name. Noy named you as Manah. You’re a despair demon, dedicated to torments of the mind.” He turned his focus to Scarlet. “This monster protecting you has spent eternity talking men into vile deeds: turning neighbour against neighbour, son against father. Manah was the fiend that convinced Herod to kill a thousand babes in their mother’s arms—his whispers of paranoia. Of all the wicked creatures to ever walk the earth, this creature before us is the worst. He is a champion of darkness, and he thrives on misery. He is no noble protector, just a confused abomination. Manah seeks to promote the extinction of mankind; he is not good. He is evil. Pure, unrelenting evil.”

Sorrow flinched back in his seat, and his eyes flicked left and right as if he were suddenly lost and afraid. It looked as if some great misery clutched at him, and he held his head in both hands and stooped forwards.

“You’re remembering, aren’t you?” said Mr Chester in a voice full of righteous satisfaction. “Your own mind is telling you that you are a monster. Why deny it further?”

Sorrow closed his eyes and gritted his teeth between words. “I… These are not my memories. You are placing them in my mind. It is you who is evil. Come on, Scarlet, we must leave. I will find those who seek to harm you, and vanquish them.”

Scarlet stood up to go with him, but before she left, she gave Mr Chester a glare. “I was hoping you would help me, but you’re just making things more confusing. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t want to help me.”

“Yes, I do.” He stood up from behind his desk and hurried over to the office’s door. “You can’t leave, Scarlet. My people will be arriving soon. We need to deal with this.”

Sorrow stood nose to nose with him. “What people?”

“Members of the White Order, of course. We have been preparing for the arrival of The Spark for centuries. I can’t just let Scarlet go. She’s dangerous.”

“We are leaving.” Sorrow placed his strong hand firmly around Scarlet’s arm and began pulling her.

Mr Chester grabbed Sorrow’s shirt to try and stop him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Sorrow’s face changed, and he became a monster. He unleashed a feral snarl and swiped Mr Chester so violently that he was launched backwards onto his desk. Papers and pencil pots went scattering everywhere.

Scarlet tumbled aside, and then screamed.

It was all true. He really was a demon.

Sorrow reached for his own face and prodded at the bony protrusions that now jutted from his cheeks and forehead. His former human face now looked like it had merged with the bark of an oak tree—dark and mottled. Sunken eyes shone crimson while his wide open jaws bristled with spiny, catlike teeth.

He reached out his hand—each finger tipped with talons. “Scarlet.”

The word was a hiss.

Scarlet ran out of the office and didn’t stop running until she had dodged past a startled Indy and made it all the way to the shop’s exit. She yanked the door open so hard that it hurt her shoulder, but the pain didn’t matter. She had to get out of there.

Face first, she ran right into the chiselled chest of The Saint.

She bounced backwards, grabbing her crumpled nose and feeling a trickle of blood coming. She looked at the monster in the doorway and shook her head in horror. “Please, no.”

The Saint backhanded her so hard that she went head over heels and lost track of which way was up. She floundered on the floor, trying desperately to get up as he followed after her. Her skull felt like a dented saucepan, and her eyes wouldn’t uncross.

Indy screamed like a girl, but he also hurried right over to help her, grabbing one of her arms and yanking her away from danger just in time. “Somebody help!” he bellowed. “Blond Terminator is here!”

Scarlet managed to stagger to her feet, but couldn’t stop herself from collapsing against the counter.

The Saint strode towards her, an expressionless machine.

Sorrow got between them just in time. “Stay back, fiend! You will not hurt this girl.”

The Saint stood still, scanning the scene before him with, what might have been, subtle amusement. When he eventually spoke, his voice was deep and authoritative. “You will not obstruct me, Manah. Go back to toying with the weak-minded. I do the Father’s bidding.”

“I have no master but myself, and I will not allow you to hurt Scarlet. She is innocent.”

“This is no mere human standing before you. Her destiny is written, but you will not succeed in safeguarding it. The Spark will die here, today, and humanity will remain under the protection of the Father. Your day of reckoning will come, demon. Why your memory eludes you, is a mystery to me, but you cannot change what you are.”

Sorrow touched his face, which was now human again. “I know not what I am, but I do not seek to murder innocent girls. Who is the true demon here?”

The Saint seemed amused by the question. The corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly. “Millions of innocents have died over centuries because of you, Manah. Even the day of this girl’s birth was marred by your meddling. Your whispers have stretched throughout history and maddened entire nations to murder. Men fly metal birds into buildings on your say so.”

“Is he talking about 9/11?” Scarlet asked, staring at Sorrow in disbelief. “Were you behind it?”

The Saint turned to her and had more to say. “It is true, child. Manah’s insidious mutterings ignited the flames of hatred in many of the men involved in the events of your birth date. He is here trying to protect your life, only to ensure the death of millions.”

Scarlet eased herself away from the counter and stood before the man meaning to hurt her. “I’m really going to be responsible for the end of the world?”

“You are an instrument of destruction—a weapon for the old ones to force their way back here. Yes, you will be responsible for the end of your world.”

“But I’m just a girl. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

The Saint seemed to soften at the sight of her misery, and bent slightly so he wasn’t quite so imposing. “It is a cruel fate to inflict upon a child, I know, but it is not The Father who did this to you. Those who Manah serves cursed you with your fate, and it is they who are to blame for your suffering. The Father does not wish you hurt; it is just what is necessary. Come to me now, and I will do what must be done and no more. Tormenting you is not my mission.”

“You won’t have her,” Sorrow shouted, then rushed at The Saint.

The Saint kicked out like a mule, hit Sorrow right in his ribs, and sent him flying back against the counter like a truck had hit him. “I shall do as I please.”

“No you won’t!” Indy did the unexpected and soccer-kicked The Saint right in the knee—hard enough to make a loud cracking sound—but The Saint barely registered noticing.

“Strike me again, boy, and I will kill you.”

Indy stood his ground, raising his hand with the red and white umbrella tattoo and shaking it, but Scarlet quickly pulled him back. “Get away from him; he’ll kill you.”

“I’ll kick his balls in, Scar. Just say the word.”

“No one is getting hurt because of me.” She took a step towards the man who wished to kill her and took a deep breath. She just wanted this to be over. “It won’t hurt?”

The Saint shook his head with all the compassion of an elderly school teacher. “I can make you dream, child. I will fill your heart with joy and make it seem like an eternity, but you must come to me now. Your life must end so that others do not.”

Scarlet took another step forwards—almost in her attacker’s clutches.

Sorrow stirred on the ground and let out a moan. Indy protested loudly, but she ignored them both. This was the only way to ensure they didn’t get hurt. If it was all true, then what choice did she have? She would rather die than be the reason for millions of deaths.

“Get back!” Mr Chester came hurrying out of the back area holding something in his hands. It was a burning candle—long, white, and tall—and looked like it had been smothered in blood. The massive gash on Mr Chester’s forearm suggested that it came from him. “You enter this place uninvited, in a realm not your own. As the lord of this hold, I bid you depart. Begone!”

The Saint sneered and took a step forward, but as his foot was about to make contact with the floorboards, it hovered. He gritted his teeth and tried to force his foot down, but he was seemingly unable. It was as if an invisible step lay beneath his foot.

Mr Chester hurried forward with his gory candle. “Be gone, servant! Return to your masters.”

The Saint growled, yet moved his foot backwards obediently. He started walking backwards and didn’t stop until he had moved back into the shop’s doorway. “You will not obstruct me, human. I am doing the Father’s work, here to ensure your future. Give me the girl. She is an abomination.”

Mr Chester placed his arm around Scarlet and pulled her towards the counter, but he kept his eyes on The Saint the whole time and still held the candle out in front of him. “You are incorrect. She is just a girl, and until she becomes anything else, I will not let you harm her. By the blood of the Father and of my own flesh, move from sight.”

“You will regret this, blood mage.”

“Perhaps, but not now and not today. Begone!”

The Saint turned around and slowly retreated. A small assemblage of gobsmacked spectators stood outside on the high street, but Mr Chester hurriedly locked the front doors and snapped the shutters closed to put an end to their entertainment.

Once he was done securing his shop, he turned around with a ghastly expression on his face. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

~ Chapter Eight ~

“How did you make him leave, boss?” Indy was trembling like a leaf, but he was visibly impressed by his usually bookish yet suddenly heroic employer.

Mr Chester had begun wrapping his forearm in a bandage and seemed to have gone grey with worry. “By using forces that are supposed to be forbidden, Indy. The only remnants of magic still left in this world are within each of us. Specifically, within our blood. When the Father cast the Great Spell to eradicate all magic, he left a tiny remainder in human beings. Our souls cannot exist without magic, so to eradicate it entirely would leave us no different from animals. Witches, warlocks, seers, and all other practitioners of magic, perform their spells exclusively through the use of blood. Blood magic only works with sacrifice. Bigger the spell, larger the sacrifice. I have not used the black arts since I was a younger man, and it has tainted me to do so now, but I saw little alternative. I need time to think things through.”

“You saved us,” said Indy. “It was pretty badass.”

“No,” said Scarlet. “You saved me, and I didn’t need saving. I was ready to end this. Sorrow is a demon, The Saint is a supernatural assassin, and I’m The Spark. I need to die to keep the world safe from magic. I get it.”

“No way, Scar. You can’t let that dickhead kill you.”

“I’m going to end the world, Indy. Don’t you understand? If I live, everybody dies. That’s right isn’t it, Mr Chester?”

He nodded gravely.

Indy stamped his foot. “To hell with all that. If your destiny sucks, then change it. My dad said I couldn’t get a Playstation 4, so you know what I did? I got this job and saved up, then bought one myself. Screw my dad, I said. Did I go in a strop because he said no to me? Hell no, I did something about it.”

Scarlet shook her head. “How is that in any way the same thing, Indy?”

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Eh, because somebody told me I couldn’t get a Playstation 4, and I got one anyway. It’s the exact same thing. Somebody is saying that you’re going to destroy the world, so don’t. Do something else instead. Don’t accept what someone else is telling you about you. You’re the boss of Scarlet. You want a Playstation 4? Go get one!”

“He makes a certain kind of sense,” said Mr Chester, pulling the last inch of bandage tight and pinning it securely.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, eh, whatever you say, Indy.” Then she looked into the office where Sorrow was now unconscious on the desk. “Even if I try to change things, The Saint is going to kill me. Sorrow was sent here to protect me, but he’s failed every time.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” said Indy. “I call that a success. Blondie comes back, you still have me and Mr Chester to defend you. No reason to give up yet.”

“I think it’s time to drop the Mr,” said Mr Chester. “I hate Miles, so you can call me by my last name only. Indy is right, Scarlet, we still have options. The spell I cast will keep The Saint out for a while; I will create something more permanent in the meantime. My colleagues will be here soon. They can help.”

“Help with what?” Scarlet shouted. “Your colleagues want me dead. I’m the bad guy, remember? Why would they help me?”

“Because I’m going to help you,” he said. “We will figure something out; I give you my solemn promise.”

She sighed, but eventually nodded. “When do your friends get here?”

“Colleagues, and tomorrow morning, I hope. The White Order is sending one of their most knowledgeable shamans.”

“I can’t stay here until morning,” she said.

Chester chewed at his lip and folded his arms, but then unfolded them. “I suppose you’re right. Your father will be expecting you home, and we can’t involve him in this. Just give me an hour, and I’ll have something ready to help keep you safe. You can’t mention any of this to your father, Scarlet, do you understand? If the world found out about the true nature of things, it wouldn’t go well at all. It’s bad enough that Indy knows.”

Indy seemed unaffected by the comment, and asked a question. “So do vampires exist?”

“About as much as the Easter Bunny does. The world is much as you understand it, but there are forces acting against its boundaries all the time, trying to make everything topple. Those are the secrets of which the world can know nothing. Protecting our existence is a task better left to the few. Things are delicate. They always have been.”

Scarlet sat down and lowered her face into her hands.

Indy went over to her and started rubbing her back. “You know, if you’re stressed, I have the perfect way of relax-”

She looked up at him. “Seriously, Indy? Please, don’t hit on me right now.”

He nodded. “Understood. Maybe later?”

“Sure. If I’m alive this time next week, you can give me every line you have in your sticky, black book.”

“It’s a date.”

There was a deep bellow from the office and everybody sprang into action. Indy immediately went and stood in front of Scarlet, true to his word about defending her. Chester did the same.

The noise came from Sorrow.

It looked like he was still sleeping, eyelids flickering and head thrashing from side to side. An unpleasant dream had captured him, and he was unable to escape into wakefulness. His mouth puckered as he muttered and mumbled, and moaned.

Scarlet watched with unease. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Chester admitted. “Just leave him be.”

She ignored his warning and went into the office. Up close, she could make out some of the words that Sorrow was saying: Bleed her. Make her pay. Without her dragging you down, you can do whatever you want. You’re a football star. She’s just a bitch. Kill her. Stab her right in the neck. That kike, Goldman, too. Do it!

“You should keep your distance, Scarlet,” Chester said as he moved up beside her.

“He’s just having a nightmare,” she whispered.

“No, he’s having a memory. He’s a monster, Scarlet. He talks weak men into vile deeds.”

Scarlet looked at Sorrow’s tormented expression and felt nothing but sympathy. He had done nothing but be kind to her, devoted even, and it was hard to dislike him for things people had only told her. He didn’t seem like a monster, but the things he was saying in his sleep… Were they true? Had he really talked some football player into murder?

Was he really behind September 11th?

***

“It’s past seven, Boss,” said Indy. “I think I should scoot. Mum’s getting KFC tonight, and you never miss a date with the Colonel. We need to get Scarlet home.”

Chester shifted awkwardly and looked at Scarlet. “There’s really no way your father would allow you to remain here overnight?”

“What excuse could I even give him? I’m having a sleepover?”

“You could say we’re doing inventory.”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t buy it. Why wouldn’t I have known in advance? He’ll just assume that I’m sneaking off to see some boy.”

“Then I’ll drive you home. Indy, will you be okay getting home? The Saint has no reason to target you.”

Indy slid on his luminous green baseball cap as if it were a cowboy’s Stetson. He left it tilted slightly to one side. “I’ll kick his backside if he does. I’m Kyle Reese, baby.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Indy, but thank you for everything you’ve done today.”

Scarlet added, “Yeah, Indy. You’re a lot cooler than I realised, and a good friend.”

He groaned. “Did you just friend-zone me?”

She chuckled. “It’s a pretty exclusive club, so you should be flattered.”

“I got your back, Scar.” He went over and gave her a hug, then headed out the front door without further ado. With him gone, Scarlet suddenly felt vulnerable. One of her protectors had just left. She turned to Chester. “We should try and wake up Sorrow. If The Saint attacks again…”

“I agree. His job is to protect you, so we’d be foolish to prevent him from doing that.”

They both headed into the back area and then into the office, where Sorrow was now sleeping more soundly.

Chester raised his voice. “Sorrow…? Sorrow? Eh, Manah?”

Scarlet waved at Chester to be quiet. “I’ll wake him up.” Moving over to the desk, where Sorrow was sleeping, she placed a hand against his cheek. My skin tingles when I am near you. She leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “Sorrow, it’s me, Scarlet. I need you to wake up and keep me safe.”

Slowly, his eyes opened, just a fraction at a time. “Scarlet?”

She stroked his cheek tenderly, still finding it impossible to imagine him as a monster—despite having seen his true face only hours before. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

While in obvious pain, he fought to sit up on the desk. Holding onto her arm, he did not squeeze or pull, but only used her to help his balance. Once upright, he rubbed at his injured side. “The Saint has broken several of my ribs. Is this bad?”

“Eh, well… yeah. It’s bad for a human.”

Sorrow nodded thoughtfully. “I can already feel myself healing. I believe I will be okay. The pain is mild.”

“Can you walk?”

“I believe so.” He hopped off the table. “I am sorry that I failed you, Scarlet. The Saint is strong. His purpose is to fight; mine is to… whisper.”

She frowned at him. “Whisper? Do you remember who you are now?”

“I remember who I was. I was Manah, a creature of vile nature. My mind is filled with bloodshed and suffering, of evil deeds done with gleeful smiles. But that was Manah.”

“Then who are you?”

“I am Sorrow. In your lake I was reborn. I will be no monster. I refuse. So much suffering, at my hands, Scarlet. Enough blood that I will never wash my hands clean, but I can promise to shed no more. You have opened my eyes.”

“Me? How?”

“You were willing to sacrifice yourself to The Saint. You showed me what humanity is capable of—compassion, courage, strength. Centuries spent defiling mankind, and I never once understood its beauty. My memories are fuzzy, but they do not seem my own. I am not Manah. He is gone, and I will never allow him to take another breath.”

Scarlet was about to speak, when she saw Chester standing in the doorway. He seemed intently focused on what Sorrow was saying—perhaps cynical, but obviously emotional.

Sorrow saw him standing there and nodded. “Thank you for protecting Scarlet, Mr Chester. You were right about who I was, but wrong about who I am.”

Chester looked like he was about to say something, but he only cocked a thumb. “Come on, we need to go. The Saint will return soon.”

~ Chapter Nine ~

“Come on, I’m parked just down the road.”

They followed Chester away from the shop and off the high street to a nearby side street named, Shawsux Avenue. Parked along it was a single vehicle. Night had not yet fallen, but the sky had turned grey, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, which made the light-blue of Chester’s car seem darker at first, gradually lightening as they approached.

Scarlet pulled a face. “You drive a Volkswagen Beetle?”

Chester squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “It’s a classic.”

“Like you, you mean?”

“I like my cars to have personality, not like the mass-produced rubbish that people drive today.”

Sorrow tilted his head and prodded the rounded bonnet with a finger. “It is a motorcar, yes?”

Scarlet chuckled. “It’s thirty years old.”

“Does it drive?”

“Of course it does,” snapped Chester.

“Then I do not see a problem. We should embark.”

Chester wore a smug grin as he looked at Scarlet. “See, your pet-demon has no issues with it.”

“I am no pet.”

Scarlet grinned and took a hold of Sorrow’s arm. “Come on, let’s embark.”

They opened the doors and climbed inside. Chester suggested that Sorrow sit in the back with Scarlet, so that they could both stoop down if they caught sight of The Saint. The thought of seeing that monster again made her skin crawl, and made her understand how much she wanted to live. If there was an alternative way to deal with things, then she at least had to try. Why should she have to suffer because of dickheads messing with her destiny?

Dickheads like my mother.

It made her wonder if her dad knew anything about her mother being a witch. How could he not know? They had not married, granted, but they had a baby together then stayed together for another six years.

But her mother was a person of whom she lacked a single memory. Her dad never spoke about her, and kept no photographs. Nesta Fitzgerald was a fairytale. The mother who never was.

Scarlet decided that the last thing she wanted to do right now was think, so she cleared her mind and stared out the car window. She lived near to the centre of town, so within five minutes they were only a few roads away from her street.

“Next right,” she shouted up front to Chester.

“Yes, I think I know it. Looks like it’s all clear. The Saint must still be focused on breaking the spell I cast on him. He can’t approach us until it-”

Crunch!

Scarlet jolted in her seat and saw the road tilt through her window. The car tipped up on two wheels and then came back down again with an almighty rattle.

She let out a scream, but Chester could only shout, “Bugger it!”

There was the screeching of tyres and the car came to a stop. Sorrow leapt across Scarlet, shielding her. From beneath his arms, but she could hear his heart beating—rapid-fire, like the baseline to a dance tune.

“Mr Chester, what is happening?” Sorrow demanded.

Chester’s voice quivered as he spoke. “I think… I think the axle broke. Something flew out into the road, but I don’t know what it was. We’re okay. I’ll get out and take a look. Keep Scarlet out of sight.”

Sorrow bore down on her and shoved her into the footwell. “It is done.”

“Ease up, Sorrow,” she moaned. “I’m not a bloody rabbit.”

Chester opened up the driver-side door and stepped out into the night.

Unbearably cramped, Scarlet managed to shove Sorrow away slightly and lay herself sideways across the rear seat, her shoes pressed up against one door, head the other. “Sorrow, ease up. I’m suffocating down here.”

He eased off her a little more, but did so cautiously, looking out all the windows like a meerkat sentry. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can walk the rest of the way. Chester will just have to call the AA.”

“Then we must go immediately. We are vulnerable here.”

“Fine.” Scarlet sighed and pushed open the door. The road she stepped out onto was residential, and some of the lights of nearby houses had come on. It was a nice street with semis and detached properties, so the neighbours were not the kind of folks to appreciate noise.

Chester was standing by the car’s bonnet, hands on his hips and shaking his head. When Scarlet walked around to join him, she saw that the front-left wheel was pointing inwards at a wrong angle.

“I’ll have to call someone,” he said.

“Yeah, for sure. What did we hit?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“I think that your automobile hit this.” Sorrow said as he stood next to the rear of the car. Quickly bending over, as if his earlier injuries had never happened, he hoisted something up off the ground. It was a thick slab of concrete. “

“It’s a paving stone,” Scarlet said. “You said it flew in front of the car, Chester?”

Chester began looking around, fretting. “Yes. It rolled right out in front of me, but it’s too heavy for any ordinary man to have tossed into the road.”

Sorrow snarled. “The Saint.”

Chester threw out his arms. “For God’s sake, Scarlet, run!”

Scarlet took off down the road, but The Saint was waiting for her. He stalked towards her slowly, one measured step after another. Trying to change direction quickly led to her twisting her ankle. She fell down.

Chester moved in front of her. “Begone. I have banished you.”

The Saint grabbed Chester by his thinning, grey hair and yanked him off his feet then tossed him to the curb. The crack of his skull hitting the wedge of concrete turned Scarlet’s stomach.

The Saint stared down at her, just two feet away. This time there was no compassion in his eyes, or mercy of any kind. “You should have given yourself willingly. Now you are implicit and will die with a dirty soul. It will be mine to keep.”

Scarlet started shuffling backwards, but she was already within her enemy’s reach. He grabbed for her, fingers spread and ready to encase her neck, but Sorrow leapt over her head and landed on top of him. With both hands he battered The Saint’s face and head, sending him reeling backwards on his heels. The size difference became obvious. Sorrow seemed like a tantruming child next to his larger adversary.

The Saint recovered and swung out an arm. Sorrow was able to duck in time, and from his low position, used his head and shoulders to flip The Saint over. The large man landed against the bonnet of Chester’s Volkswagen and knocked off the bumper. While he tried to right himself, Sorrow rushed over to where the slab of concrete that had snapped their axle still lay on the road. He picked it up with ease and brought it down on The Saint’s head just as the larger man was rising to his feet. Blood exploded from beneath his blond hair, and he went flopping back onto his face. He wasn’t entirely out for the count, but for now, at least, the fight had been taken out of him.

Sorrow yanked Scarlet to her feet. “We need to leave.”

“Okay. Grab Chester.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Yes, we do. Grab him!”

Sorrow grunted, but hurried over to the side of the road where Chester was lying and hoisted him over his shoulder like a bag of spuds. Together, the three of them fled the scene as quickly as they were able. More lights in the street had switched on, and it would likely be a very short time before the police arrived. Part of Scarlet welcomed them, but she was scared that they’d end up locking her up for being crazy. Chester would probably deny everything if pressed, and Sorrow would go straight to the loony bin alongside her.

“Your home,” said Sorrow. “Which way?”

Scarlet pointed. “It’s near.”

She glanced back over her shoulder looking for The Saint, but the sky had turned charcoal and shadows had descended. She saw nothing but houses on each side of the road.

“This way,” she shouted. “My house is just down here.”

Sorrow overtook her even though he was carrying Chester on his shoulders, but when he realised she was lagging behind, he slowed down and allowed her to catch up.

“Put me down.”

Scarlet and Sorrow stopped when they realised that Chester was conscious again. Sorrow set him down on wobbly feet. Scarlet hissed when she saw the thick lump above his right eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

Chester rubbed his head. “I’ll live… I think. You need to take this.” He pulled a coil of rope and handed it to her. It was tacky in her hand and smelt coppery. “Hessian soaked in human blood,” he explained. “Reach your house and it will keep The Saint out. Stay home and don’t leave.”

“I will stay with you,” Sorrow told her.

Chester shook his head. “The charm will keep you out too, Sorrow. You’re not of this earth. You must keep watch close by.”

“It will be done.”

“Then get going. Get inside and stay there, Scarlet. I will contact you in the morning.”

Scarlet frowned. “But where are you going? You’re hurt.”

“I need to contact the White Order. We can’t afford to wait for my colleagues to get here, so I will ask for their help now. They might be able to perform a spell to help us.”

Sorrow pointed down the road. “He is coming.”

Scarlet saw a grey, hulking shape marching towards them. “How is he on his feet? You smashed him in the head with a concrete slab!”

“He cannot be killed,” said Chester.

“What? Then what chance do we have?”

“Our only chance is to banish him back to whence he came, but you need to stay safe until then. Go!”

Sorrow grabbed Scarlet and started running. It felt wrong leaving Chester behind, but he wasted no time in fleeing. He headed into an alleyway between two houses and was gone in seconds—pretty fast for an ageing shopkeeper.

They reached her house around the next bend.

“Scarlet, what the Hell!”

Her dad was standing on the doorstep, waiting for her. “I’ve been calling you for the last hour. I was just about to come look for you. Where have you been? It’s almost nine o’ clock. Who’s this?”

“I am Sorrow.”

Her dad pulled a face, and then looked at Scarlet angrily. “Get in the house. You better have a good excuse for why you’re out at this time without letting me know.”

She nodded. “Fine. Let’s go inside.”

“You first. I want to speak with your friend here.”

“Dad!”

Her dad went to Sorrow, who was at least two inches taller. “I don’t know what you’ve been getting my daughter into, but she’s just a child—too young for a grown man like you. Whoever you are, my daughter is off limits. Understand?”

“I do not understand. I am sorry.”

Scarlet’s dad grew red in the face. “Excuse me? If you want to make this difficult, then we can do that. Stay away from my daughter, okay? You bring her back at this time; keep her from calling me… I should call the police. She’s sixteen!”

“Dad!”

“Inside!”

Sorrow was confused. “I am sorry that I have offended you, sir. I seek only to keep Scarlet safe.”

“That’s my job. You leave.”

Sorrow glanced at Scarlet. Scarlet nodded.

“As you wish.” He turned and headed down the road. Scarlet hoped he didn’t run into The Saint.

Her dad followed her inside the house and slammed the front door shut and locked it. Scarlet felt the coil of bloody rope in her pocket and hoped it was as magical as Chester said it was.

“Who the hell was that man, Scarlet?”

“He’s just a friend.”

“He’s a bloody weirdo. Who calls themselves Sorrow?”

“Yes, he’s a little weird, but he’s harmless, and he’s my friend.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

She blushed. “What? No. I just met him. He’s just a friend.”

“Where have you been all evening? You should have called. I rang your phone a dozen times.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost my phone, but I’ve only been at the shop.”

“I’ve been calling the shop for the last twenty minutes and no one answered.”

“That’s because we’d left by then. Mr Chester gave me a lift.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You’re lying to me, Scarlet. I saw you walk down the road. Nobody drove you.”

“We had a crash.”

“Stop it! Stop insulting my intelligence. What is going on with you? You’ve always been hard work, but lately…”

Scarlet’s hands clenched into fists. “Hard work? Thanks! That’s just what every daughter wants to hear. You bring me here, where I don’t know anybody—I hardly even see you—and you call me hard work? Well, try being me, and you tell me what’s hard.”

Her dad slumped down in the living room armchair. He let out a sigh. “I’m doing my best, Scarlet. It’s just been me looking after everything for so long. What am I supposed to do to keep you on the rails?”

“What happened to mum?” She asked the question before she even knew it was in her head.

He looked stunned by her question. “You know what happened to her. She walked out on us. I don’t want to talk about her.”

She sat down on the sofa and stared at him. “You never want to talk about her, but I have questions. Who was she? What was she like?”

“She was… I don’t know. She was passionate. Everything was all or nothing with Nesta. Once I stepped on her garden that she used to keep at our old place and she exploded—said I’d murdered her beautiful children. She meant the lilies that I’d trodden on. That was what she was like—emotional about everything. It was wonderful at times—she could be so romantic, so compassionate—but eventually it became draining. Every time we had a fight over any little thing, she would fly off the handle. Then she started disappearing at night. I knew then that it was time to finish things—thought she was having an affair to tell the truth—but when she finally returned one time after being gone for four days, she told me that she was pregnant. So we stayed together another seven years—almost ten in total. You say you want to know more about your mother, Scarlet, but the truth is that even after a decade, I never felt like I knew much myself. She never spoke about her past or her family, and her only interests were her garden and… well, like I said, she was passionate.”

Scarlet tried to imagine what her mother had looked like, but without any photographs, she could only guess. Her mind drew a picture of a woman with long, dark hair matching her own, pale skin and long fingers. “Dad, was mum a witch?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, did she have any strange hobbies? You mentioned her garden. Did she grow anything strange?”

He looked utterly confused and a little angry—as he always did when he talked about Nesta. “Other than her gardening, she had no hobbies. She worked as a primary school teacher, until she was fired.”

“She was fired? Why?”

“A short while before you were born she scratched an unruly child across the face with her fingernails. Like I told you, she had some pretty wayward emotions. The school set up a disciplinary, but she fell pregnant with you and just quit. She never went back to work once you came along; said that you were her new purpose. That’s what made it so strange that she left us. She loved you, Scarlet. The problem was that she didn’t love me. Not sure she ever did.”

“You loved her, though?”

“With all my heart. Life was always exciting with Nesta. Everything was a drama, too, but in the early days I liked that. Things became humdrum after she left—everything lost its colour. I still miss her, Scarlet, but I promise we’re better off without her. She was dangerous.”

Scarlet sat forward. “Why was she dangerous?”

“The night before she left us, I caught her taking your blood.”

“My blood?”

“Yes. I have no idea why, but she’d cut your heel while you were sleeping and was draining your blood into a little bowl. She never heard me come in. We had a big argument, and I threatened to call the police, but she talked me out of it—said she had no choice. I still don’t know what she meant, but I figured she had some kind of mental illness—I suppose I always suspected. Anyway, the next day, before I could even think about what to do, she was gone. The letter she left just said to give you her locket, which I did. The one with the ruby in it?”

She nodded. “So, she left because she was ashamed of what she did, or scared that you were going to call the police?”

He put his hand up as if to silence her. “If you’re suggesting I somehow drove her away, I didn’t. My only threat to her was that I wouldn’t leave you two alone until I trusted her again. I never told her to leave. I was there for her if she needed me. But she didn’t, and she left.”

“You never saw her again after she left?”

He swallowed. “I’m… not sure. You had meningitis when you were eight, remember?”

Scarlet remembered nothing about it other than what she had been told. She had fallen into a massive fever one night and had gone to the hospital in an ambulance. She’d known for a while that she had almost died as a child. “I remember.”

Her dad continued. “Well, the doctors had you in the hospital, filling you with fluids and medicines, but I could tell from the look on their faces that things were touch and go. I slept beside your bed two nights straight, but you weren’t getting any better. They said that every day it went on, the worse the chances were of a full recovery. You might get brain damage, or die. It was terrifying. On the third night of me staying beside your bed, I had a dream. I dreamt that I saw your mother standing over your bed, stroking your face. When I woke up in the morning, you were well again, and there was a vase full of lilies beside your bed. None of the nurses knew who had left them, but they were all amazed at how well you were doing. The doctors said your sudden recovery was remarkable—almost like magic. You could remember nothing about it, but you loved the lilies.”

Scarlet felt a knot in her stomach. She knew the magic that had saved her, and why. Because my mother is an Aldorian witch who needs me to live till I’m eighteen, so that I can bring back magic to the world. Real, pure, world-consuming magic. Thanks mum. Thanks for nothing. Should have let me die.

“Go to bed, Scarlet. We’ll talk more in the morning. Oh, by the way, did you get your job back?”

She got up, glad the conversation was over, but still scared that there was an otherworldly assassin outside intending to kill her. “Mr Chester and I had a lot to talk about, but we’re back on the same page.”

“Super. Then at least you still have a job to occupy your time. Maybe you can earn enough to replace the phone you lost, because I’m not paying for it.”

“Good night,” was all she said.

~ Chapter Ten ~

Climbing the stairs was an effort, which made Scarlet realise how tired she was, but could she even hope to get any sleep tonight? The Saint had been just a couple of roads away from her house. Could a coil of bloody rope really keep him out? Was there any way to stop him from killing her? He was an agent of Heaven—or whatever stood for it. How could she stop that?

The hardest part about the whole thing was not being honest with her dad. Despite the awkward divide between them, she had not made a habit of lying to him, and it felt wrong to do so now. Even when she’d been caught smoking weed at school with a boy she’d liked, the thought of lying her way out of things hadn’t occurred to her. She wanted to smoke the weed, and that was what she told him, even when pretending she had been pressured into it might have been easier.

As she stood outside her bedroom door now, about to go in, she felt like a little girl. She didn’t want her dad to be mad at her; she wanted her daddy to keep her safe and protect her. Maybe if he knew the truth he could do something.

Or maybe telling him would make things even worse, or even end up getting him hurt.

At least this way, only she was going to die. He’ll probably be better off, she thought. I’m just hard work apparently.

The fact that he thought of her in such clinical, job-like terms had hurt her deeply. It made her want to sob and rage at the same time. It made her insane.

But insane had come to her, not the other way around. She had to keep sight of the fact that she was innocent in all this. She hadn’t asked for any of this—hadn’t even asked to be born, or for her mother—who might just be a witch—to abandon her.

She let out a yawn and decided she would try sleep. Maybe the morning would be better. Perhaps she would wake up to find that it had all been a surreal nightmare.

Her door was already slightly ajar, so she nudged it open with her shoulder.

The light was already on, so she saw Indy’s luminous green baseball cap as soon as she entered. It had been placed on the centre of her bed. Nothing else in the room was out of place, and Indy was not present—so how did his hat get into her room?

Has Indy been here snooping through my things? Has that perv been breaking in?

No, Indy might be a little sex-obsessed, but his actions spoke louder than his words. Over the last few days he had done nothing except behave honourably. He was her friend, and one of the only people she could truly rely on.

Unless you count my demon bodyguard. I can always rely on him!

Jeez! It’s like Whitney Houston and Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a baby and called it Scarlet.

Scarlet, the Spark. Maybe the BBC will pick it up if I live long enough to write the script.

She wished she had her phone to call Indy—ask him why on earth his hat was on her bed—but she didn’t, so she would have to investigate further. She went over to her bed and retrieved the hat, placing her fingers underneath the brim and flipping it up into her hands. When she rotated it, she found nothing inside but a few dark, stray hairs and a line of grime around the headband. “Gross.”

She turned to her dresser to throw the hat down, but realised something else lay on her bed, something that had been hiding beneath the cap. Something terrible.

She recoiled, dropping the baseball cap to the ground and raising both hands to her mouth. Sitting on the centre of her bed was a hand. The red and white umbrella tattoo told her it belonged to Indy. The only reason she didn’t scream, was because she bit down on the side of her mouth, drawing tangy blood onto her tongue. If she screamed, her dad would come up, and then he would call the police, and they would question her…

But Indy needs my help.

I need to speak to Mr Chester. He said the White Order would help us.

She couldn’t leave Indy’s severed hand on her bed, so she pulled open one of her drawers and tugged out a pillow case. Poking it open with her hand, she hurried back over to her bed and reached out for the ghoulish item. “Eww, eww, eww!” It was a battle to fight down her revulsion as she prepared to grasp the hand as lightly as possible, using her thumb and forefinger as a pincer. Once her fingertips made contact with the cold, disembodied flesh, a bolt of electricity shot through her.

Flashes of light. Images.

She saw Indy. She saw her friend.

He was screaming.

When she looked down at her friend’s hand, which she still clutched by only its thumb, she saw that the underside was smeared with congealing blood. It got on her hands and she felt it fizzing against her flesh. Blood Magic. But she didn’t know magic, so how had she been able to see Indy—see that he was suffering?

She threw the hand in the pillowcase and folded it into a bundle, and then she moved towards her bedroom window. This would be the first time she’d ever snuck out of her room, but she hoped it was as easy as the kids made it look in the movies. Although they always have a handy drainpipe, or trellis, right below the ledge.

Climbing up onto the windowsill, she felt like the worst daughter ever, but it was better than being the worst friend. Indy needed her help.

She stooped down over the window sill and let her legs dangle outside. She straightened out, hanging by her fingertips. The drop below her was about seven feet to the grass. It would’ve been a softer landing in the spring, when the ground was wet, but this was Summer and the lawn was baked.

Okay, here goes. One… two… three!

Shit!

She let go of the ledge and pushed off against the wall with her foot, so that she spun to face away from the house and fall away from the wall instead of into it. The ground met her feet faster than she had expected and she went sprawling forwards onto her face. She had planned to land upright, but as soon as her weight had come down, her legs gave way like spaghetti. She waited there for a second, face down in the dirt. She wanted to ensure she wasn’t hurt, but also that her dad hadn’t heard her clumsy flop. Once she was sure only her pride was damaged, she climbed to her feet. Wiping dirt from her trousers, she let out a muffled laugh. Her landing had been so lame, but at least she had made it in one piece. Her first sneaking out at night was a success. She was officially an unruly teenager. If only that was all she was.

It was time to go find Chester. Please let him have learnt what to do. She needed him.

But somebody found Scarlet first.

The Saint had been waiting in her garden.

~ Chapter Eleven ~

The Saint strode towards her at the same deliberate pace he always moved at.

“Leave me alone,” Scarlet shouted, fear distorting her voice. “Please!”

“Your begging will change nothing. You must die.”

Scarlet bolted, but The Saint was too close to slip past. Despite barely seeming to move, he was on her immediately and grabbed her by the arm. Over the fabric of her shirt, she could feel rising heat.

She did the only thing she could think of, and screamed.

The giant clutched his head with his spare hand. “Noise. I hate it. A world full of noise and smells.”

She screamed louder, kicking and thrashing at the same time, but it was like being encased in iron. The Saint had her by both arms now, and it burned.

“Let us end this dirty business,” he snapped. “Your companion’s urine still taints my senses. His bowels and bladder failed him, like a whimpering child.”

Scarlet’s eyes went wide. “Indy? You hurt him?”

The Saint nodded. “Yes.”

Anger gripped her and she spat in the monster’s face. It seemed to hurt him more than her kicks and punches did because he released her immediately. The burning sensation stopped.

The Saint rubbed at his face, snarling. “You fling your vile fluids like the foul, mud-encrusted beast that you are. Humans are animals.”

She spat again, making The Saint retreat another step. “And you are nothing but a bully. Indy did nothing to you.”

“He helped The Spark, and in doing so, forfeited the Father’s protection. The token I left on your bed was the most efficient way to remove you from the safety of your home. I knew you would try to ward me away with your cursed magic. You have perverted a member of the White Order into helping you—barring me from entry into your places of residence—but only while you inhabit them.”

“You’ve been in my room twice already. You took my mother’s necklace, and you left Indy’s hand.”

“I took no necklace. It is true that I invaded your dwelling, but I was unable to remain when you entered with your vile charm. I had time to leave you a gift, though. Your companion’s headwear, and one of his appendages. Now you are outside without protection, just as I planned. Humans act only with their hearts, never with their intellect. It is over now, wretched child. I will tolerate no more delay.”

“Scarlet, what the hell are you doing out here? Is that your goddamn boyfriend again? I’ve had as much as I can stomach.”

The Saint turned to face Scarlet’s dad as he marched out of the back door and across the lawn. “Leave us, or you will suffer.”

“I will do no such bloody thing. Get off my property before I call the police. I’ve already warned you once.”

“You have warned me of nothing. Never have I set eyes on you.”

Her dad now came close enough that Scarlet could see him clearly. He looked slightly embarrassed at the mix up, but mostly angry. “You’re not the same man as before, but you still have no reason to be in my bloody garden. Scarlet, you should be in bed.”

“Your daughter should be dead, and shall be presently.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leave us!”

Her dad became unsure of himself, never one for conflict beyond words, but he remained calm. “Scarlet, I think you should come here now.”

Scarlet tried to make it over, but The Saint blocked her way.

“Dad, help.”

“Get away from her!” He thrust out a hand and it clamped down around the Saint’s shoulder. “Move!”

The Saint shoved him with both hands and launched him backwards into the wall of the house. A gale escaped his lungs and he doubled over on the ground.

The Saint turned his attention back to Scarlet. “Enough. I will murder everyone you care about if you make me pursue you a single moment longer.”

Scarlet took a step away, not towards. “And they call you the good guy?”

She went to spit again—it was the only thing she had found that worked—but The Saint had her by the throat before she could even open her mouth.

“Leave her… alone,” her dad moaned from the ground.

“In a moment, you can have her body.”

“Let go of her or I’ll rip you apart.” This time, the voice was not her dad’s.

Sorrow emerged from the shadows of the garden and tackled The Saint to the ground. The Saint was, as always, stronger, but Sorrow pummelled him with speed and ferocity, throwing punches in a dozen places to every one The Saint threw.

Scarlet ran to her dad and helped him up.

“We have to call the police,” he managed to say, clutching at his sides.

“Yeah,” she said, not knowing whether she meant it or not, only that she wanted to get away. “We have to go. That man wants to kill me.”

“Why?”

“No time to explain. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Where?” Her dad was acting like a bewildered child. “The car! We should head to the car.”

She was about to agree, but then realised something. “No, the charm only works if I’m in the house. We have to go back inside.”

“Charm? What are y-“

“Just trust me, okay? We have to go back inside the house.”

He looked at her for a second, then at the two strange men fighting on his lawn. Scarlet could only imagine what all this seemed like to him. “Okay, Scarlet, let’s hurry.”

She raced for the back door, making sure that her dad was right behind her—he was—and they made it back inside the kitchen and went right for the telephone. A second later he kicked the cabinets and cursed.

Scarlet spun around. “What is it?”

“There’s no dial tone. Did that psychopath cut the phone line? What the hell is happening? I was watching bloody Top Gear ten minutes ago.”

“This isn’t the movies, dad. People don’t cut telephone wires, they’re all underground.”

“Well, they’re not working, Scarlet, and that maniac is still outside on our lawn. Was that your boyfriend who came to help?”

“He isn’t my boyfriend! He’s just a friend… sort of.”

“Oh, Scarlet. What have you got yourself into?”

She took a deep breath and then let it all out. “Mum was a witch who made a pact with a demon—or something like that—and infected me with magic while I was in her womb—or something like that—when I’m eighteen, I’m going to—I don’t know—explode or something, and bring magic back to the world, and all the nasty creatures that exist in it—or something like that—the men outside are a demon sent to protect me and an angel sent to kill me—it’s kind of like The Terminator—and Mr Chester, my boss, is a member of some secret order who was also planning to kill me—I think—but now they want to help me, okay? Does that make sense?”

Her dad looked at her like she had gone completely and utterly mad. His jaw hung wide open and his eyes darted left and right. He seemed to totter and sway as if he were standing on a boat.

“Dad, did you hear me?”

“Scarlet, are you on drugs?”

“No, I’m not on-”

There was a massive whoosh of air that made them both stagger and turn towards the door. Sorrow stood in the open doorway to the kitchen. His hands were pressed palms-out against the air like a mime bumping into an invisible brick wall.

“Sorrow, get inside, quickly.”

“I cannot.” He threw his shoulder towards the open doorway but collided with the invisible barrier. “The charm that Mr Chester gave you; it prevents me…”

Scarlet saw that Sorrow was bleeding badly from a gut wound. The blood was smearing against the invisible barrier and dripping down it like slow motion droplets of crimson rain. It was like there was a fine pane of glass between them.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bloody coil of rope that Chester had given her. “I’ll get rid of it.”

Sorrow moved away from the doorway and shook his head adamantly. “No! It is keeping you safe, Scarlet. Stay indoors; do not come out. Mr Chester will return with the White Order soon. They will help you.”

“You can help me,” she cried. “I need you inside.”

“If you allow me inside, it means you allow The Saint in too. He cannot be beaten. Keep the charm, Scarlet. Do not lose it.”

Suddenly Sorrow flew towards the kitchen doorway again. His body and face collided flat with the invisible barrier and something crushed him from behind. Blood exploded from his flattened lips and sprayed across the thin air. Scarlet ran towards him, but her dad snatched her around the waist and pulled her back. “No, Scarlet,” he said. “You’re not going out there. You heard what he said.”

Sorrow’s face shot back from the barrier and then smashed against it again. More blood exploded from his lips. The light faded from his eyes. The pendant that she had given him broke free of its clasp and skittered across the kitchen floor—one half of a dove. His final expression was one of utter despair when he saw his only possession fly away from him. He reached out a hand, but collided with the barrier.

“Dad, I need to help him. The Saint is killing him.”

“You’re not going out there. I’m calling the police.”

“Dad!”

But it was too late. Sorrow flew backwards and disappeared into the shadows of the garden.

Finally, she managed to escape her dad’s grip and raced towards the doorway, but she stopped at the threshold and saw nothing but the grey square of the lawn beneath the moonlight. Sorrow was gone.

Her dad came and pulled her away, then slammed the door shut. “Scarlet, I want to know exactly what is going on. Who were those men?”

She shoved him hard, not wanting to be touched. The broken pendant lay in the centre of the tiled floor. She knelt down and picked it up, holding it in her hand and wishing that there wasn’t a spot of blood on the tip of the heart-piece. “This is all mum’s doing,” she growled. “The woman you used to love was a witch.”

He sighed, and then surprised her by nodding wearily. “I know. I know she was.”

~ Chapter Twelve ~

“What do you mean, you know mum was a witch?”

Her dad looked at her with an expression she had never seen before: guilt. “I knew your mother was a witch, but I never really knew what that meant at the time—thought it was just something she believed in, like a religion—but when she fell pregnant, I knew that the weird things she used to speak about were real. She only carried you for six weeks and then you were born. Your mother’s pregnancy lasted less than two months.”

This time it was Scarlet who was disbelieving. “What? How is that-”

“Come out to me, child. Let this be over.”

Scarlet and her dad turned towards the kitchen door and saw a face at the windowpane. It was The Saint, of course. His voice filled the room as if he stood right beside them.

“Leave my daughter alone,” her dad growled.

“She is not your daughter. She is a child of Aldorix.”

He went right up to the kitchen door and stared out at The Saint. “When my daughter was nine years old, she saw a dog get run over in the street where we used to live. I spent the entire evening with her crying in my arms while I told her about how the world was sometimes sad. When she was twelve, she wanted to go swimming with some of her friends, but she had never learnt how. I did night lessons with her every evening for three weeks straight until she was the strongest swimmer in school. She is my daughter, and I am her father, and you need to get the hell away from our house.”

The Saint sneered. “Do you know what she is? What she will do? She will bring destruction to your world.”

“I will watch the world burn before I let anyone harm her.”

Scarlet felt lightheaded—terrified for her life—but immeasurably buoyed by what her father was saying. Yet, she still did not know how to survive what was coming. “Where is Sorrow?” she demanded.

“You mean, Manah? The corrupter of men? He is dead—bleeding into the stinking mud of your world. If you come out, I will let you see his body before I kill you.”

Scarlet’s dad yanked the back door open and shoved a finger in The Saint’s face. “The only person who’s going to get killed is you.” As he shoved out with both arms, one of his hands crept out of the doorway and past where the invisible barrier existed. The Saint grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards like a swing partner. He went tumbling over the step and sprawled onto the lawn. He was a sitting duck, and Scarlet cried out to him.

The Saint turned away from the house and stalked towards his prey.

Her dad clambered up to his feet and clenched both fists. The first punch he threw hit The Saint underneath the chin and actually succeeded in knocking his head back, but the follow-up jab was swatted aside easily. The Saint grabbed him around the throat and lifted him off his feet.

Over his shoulder, The Saint glared at Scarlet. “Come out, or I will snap your father’s neck like a twig.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Just, please, don’t hurt him.”

“Scarlet,” her dad managed to gargle in a strangled voice. “Stay in the house.”

She teetered on the spot, just in front of the threshold, unsure of what to do. She had brought so much misery to the people in her life, and she could end it all now. There was no choice. The way forward was clear, just like it had been clear in Chester’s shop.

She stepped through the kitchen door and onto the lawn.

The Saint grinned, showing more emotion than he had.

Her dad moaned in agony.

“You said you would let him go,” she said, stepping closer.

With his free hand, The Saint slapped Scarlet across the face and sent her sprawling to the ground. He did not let go of her dad, and began to laugh. “I warned you that I would make those around you suffer if you continued to elude me. Your father will join you in the abyss.”

“No, please.”

Her dad began to squeal as the pressure around his neck increased. His face grew a deep red, and then a purple, while his legs kicked about uselessly. His hands batted against the Saint’s powerful arms but did nothing.

His kicking eventually stopped. His body went limp.

Scarlet screamed.

The Saint was smiling like a well-fed hound, but his expression quickly disappeared when something burst through his chest. The object glinted in the moonlight. He let go of her dad and looked down at the metallic protrusion.

Sorrow appeared over The Saint’s shoulder. He yanked the gardening shears free, then spun the larger man around and shoved them back into his stomach.

The Saint slumped forwards onto his knees. Blood pooled in the grass around him.

Sorrow was badly hurt, his entire front soaked in gore and his face a mask of agony, but he was standing. When he spoke, his voice was frail. “Get back inside the house, Scarlet.”

“No, it’s not safe.”

“Get your father and go. If not your house, then somewhere away from here.”

“My dad is dead,” she cried.

“No, he is not. Look!”

Scarlet turned to see that he was up on his knees, gasping for breath and rubbing at his adam’s apple. She raced to help him.

“Is that… is that my shirt he’s bleeding all over?” He pointed weakly to Sorrow, who, she realised, had been wearing his shirt and trousers for half a week now.

“You only just noticed? We can talk about it later. We need to get in the car and get to the shop. Mr Chester will help us. He has to.”

He was too weak to argue, so he just nodded and let her put his arm around her shoulder. With a grunt, she half carried him towards the back gate, which led to the outside of the property and the curb.

“I will delay The Saint as long as I am able,” Sorrow shouted after them.

“But he’ll kill you.”

“I’m already dying. Go!”

She nodded. “Thank you, Sorrow.”

“It has been my pleasure.”

She exited the back garden and left her demon bodyguard to do what he had come to do: Die for her.

~ Chapter Thirteen ~

By the time they were in the car racing towards town, there were police cars heading in the opposite direction. Her dad glanced back over his shoulder. “Remind me why we’re not talking to the authorities again?”

“Because I’m not sure they could help us,” said Scarlet. “Mr Chester has friends who have been expecting all of this—they knew it was coming. We need to see what they have to say before we decide anything. You said mum was a witch?”

Her dad flinched and almost let go of the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road as he answered her. “I thought she was just a bit hippyish, like one of those Wicca—or whatever they call themselves—but I had my suspicions that she was into things a little scarier than that. I’d often wake up in the night and she would be gone. Come morning, she’d be back in bed with mud caked on her feet. She told me she was a sleepwalker, but I had never caught her doing it. And there were the things she grew in her garden. She would gather them all up and put them in jars and pots, but none of it was ever used for cooking. She was… odd. That’s all I thought it was, and it’s what I loved about her at first, but then it started to scare me. That night, when she tried to take your blood... Well, that was the last straw. I lied to you, Scarlet. I did send your mother away. I told her that she was a danger to you and that I would call the police if she tried to ever hurt you again. I’m sorry, Scarlet. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I understand that. What I don’t understand is that you said I was born after only six weeks.”

He took a left onto the highway and gripped the wheel tightly. “Your mother told me that she’d been pregnant for much longer, but hadn’t been showing. She was a slim woman, Scarlet, but there was no way Nesta could have been seven months pregnant and still thin as a rake. In the six weeks before you were born, she grew more and more each day, until she was absolutely huge. She had a full pregnancy, but it only lasted a month and a half. I’m certain of it.”

Scarlet looked at him in disbelief. “How did you ever look at me, knowing that?”

“Because I love you, Scarlet. You’re my little girl, and I don’t care how you came into this world—or who your mother was. It’s been you and me since the beginning.”

“What if I’m not yours?” The question almost brought floods of tears to her, but she needed to say it.

“I’m your father, Scarlet. That will never change.”

She said no more. Although his reply had answered nothing, it was also everything she had needed to hear. He was her dad. She was his daughter.

“I’m scared.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m confused.” Then he looked at her more seriously. “That man is not going to hurt you, Scarlet. The Devil himself won’t get through me, okay?”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

They came off the highway and entered the ring road around town. The Little Treasures Emporium was right next to the Redlake Historical Society, which had a small car park. It was still the middle of the night, so her dad ignored the parking restrictions and pulled up into one of the bays. A flickering street lamp allowed them light to see by, but the overfilled wheelie bins at the back of the high street were all shadowy hiding places for lurking tramps or druggies. Scarlet felt a shiver down her spine when she realised that the world scared her even without supernatural menaces.

Her dad wrapped his arm around her and hustled. “Come on. Sooner I get some answers from your boss, the better—and I best like his answers.”

“You won’t,” she admitted. “I haven’t liked a single answer he’s given me in the last two days, but that doesn’t mean he’s not telling the truth.”

The lights inside Little Treasures were on and shadows shifted inside. Her dad put an arm out in front of her and kept her from going in first. “No, let me go.”

He tried the handle of the front door and found it locked, so he patted on the door with his fist, not too loudly, but loud enough to disturb the shadows inside. One of those shadows moved right up to the door.

Then the door crept open.

Half of Chester’s face peered out at them from behind the frame. His one eye went wide. “Scarlet! You’re okay. Thank heavens. You should have remained home where it was safe.”

“It wasn’t safe,” her dad grunted. “Some maniac almost killed her.”

Chester opened the door widely, revealing that the ghastly lump on his forehead had only grown. A bloody slit ran across its centre and the edges bulged red. He frowned at Scarlet. “The charm I gave you didn’t work?”

“It did, but it’s complicated.”

“Then I suppose you ought to come inside.”

Scarlet and her dad slipped inside Little Treasures and were immediately faced with two strangers, a man and a woman, the woman middle aged approaching old age, and the man a decade or so younger. The woman looked at Scarlet from behind the thick, wire rims of round spectacles. Her short grey-brown hair was seemingly fixed in place as she moved her head and spoke. “You must be The Spark.”

“My name is Scarlet.”

“Indeed. What is your age?”

“Didn’t Chester tell you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Scarlet mumbled. “I’m planning on informing National Geographic.”

“She’s feisty,” said the man, giving a lopsided grin and looking past her as though she wasn’t even in the room. “I like her.”

“What’s going on?” her dad finally asked. “Why is somebody trying to kill my daughter?”

Chester came and patted him on the back. “Let us go in the back and have a cup of tea, Mr Thomas. We’ll discuss everything there.”

With a huff, he allowed himself to be led away, although he made sure that Scarlet went with him. In the backroom they were met by more strangeness. The table and shelving units had all been pushed back against the walls, and in the middle of the room was now a painted red circle. The paint seemed tacky with some kind of powder. A thatch of straw and grass marked the circle’s centre.

“What’s going on, Chester? Are those two strangers from the White Order?”

“Yes, they are here to help. They have been preparing a spell.”

“To do what?”

Chester swallowed and gave her a strange look. “To render the magic within you forever inert, and as such, unable to ever come to fruition.”

She nodded, understanding. “You want to take away The Spark?”

Her dad rubbed at his temples. “I’m still hoping that this is all just a big joke.”

“It’s not, Mr Thomas, I assure you. Your daughter is very important, and she is in danger.”

“From whom exactly? Who was the blond bodybuilder that turned up in my garden in the middle of the night?”

“The Saint is an agent dedicated to carrying out the Father’s will.”

“The Father? You mean God?”

“Not exactly. The Father is just one powerful force of many, but long ago, he became guardian of our world and protector of mankind. Truth be told, we’re nothing more than a chess piece in an intergalactic pissing contest. The Father protects us more out of pride and duty than love and affection. Right now, Scarlet is the biggest threat to The Father’s assets.”

Her dad folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t really care about that. How do we stop The Saint? I can’t believe I’m buying into all this.”

“You’re buying into it,” said Chester, “because you have witnessed what is happening. Same as I have. Some things don’t add up, though. Scarlet was supposed to be eighteen when she began to exhibit her powers. She should have been invisible until then, yet somehow, the forces of good have located her. I was here, waiting for the rise of The Spark, but I was taken completely by surprise to find out that it was Scarlet all along, working right under my nose. I believe it is fate, Mr Thomas. I believe I am supposed to act differently than was planned. Scarlet is innocent in all this.”

“You were planning to kill me, weren’t you?” Scarlet said.

“Yes, but the reality is far different from the planning. I cannot harm you, Scarlet. I have known you for almost a year now. I know the fine young woman that you should, and will be allowed to grow into. The problem with the White Order is that we spend so much time with our books, that we forget about the human cost involved. We’ll work this out, Scarlet, I promise. If the spell works…”

“What will the spell do to my daughter?”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Margaret—that’s the woman out front—is one of the White Order’s Grand Shamans. She understands more than I do about a spell of this magnitude. I’ll just go and get her, let her know that we are ready to begin.”

Chester disappeared for a moment, leaving Scarlet with her dad. Knowing her way around the shop, she went over to the kitchenette and began making the tea that Chester had been meaning to brew. The kettle was already boiled, used tea bags on the side.

“I don’t like this, Scarlet. These people believe in magic and spells? So did your mother, and it did her no good. Magic is bad.”

“I know that. That’s why The Saint wants me dead. If I live till I’m eighteen, then I’ll bring magic back to the world, and things will go all Dante’s Inferno.”

“Dante’s Inferno? Impressive. You learn that in school.”

She shrugged. “We looked at it in English class. It was kind of boring.”

“You don’t like English?”

“Yeah, I like it just fine, but… wait, should we maybe focus on the big issues here?”

He took the mug of tea she handed him and took a tiny sip. “Christ, I feel like I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

“How do you think I feel?”

He put the mug down on the counter and approached her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Chester re-entered with his colleagues. Margaret held her nose in the air and looked like she had a rod up her back. In contrast, her male colleague seemed constantly amused. His greying hair was the colour of spent coal, yet his age was too young to suit it.

“Allow me to introduce Margaret Kindersley and James Holtby,” said Chester, pointing to each person in turn.

“A pleasure,” said Holtby, holding out his jittery hand, but nobody shook it. The way the man moved—in flinches and nods—was birdlike.

“Shall we begin?” asked Margaret curtly.

Her dad shook his head. “I want to know what you’re planning first.”

“I do not answer to you, sir.”

“You do if you want to go anywhere near my daughter.”

Margaret showed the first hint of amusement since Scarlet had set eyes on the woman. She tilted her nose even higher. “We are here to ensure the ongoing viability of the world, sir. What you feel about these matters is quite irrelevant. Try to impede our duties and you will be restrained forcefully.”

“By you and whose army?”

“I do not need an army, sir.”

Holtby moved like lightning. He slid towards Scarlet’s dad and shot out his arm. A deadly looking blade shot out of his coat sleeve and leapt into his hand—the sharp tip stopped just centimetres from the target: her dad’s throat.

“Don’t hurt him,” she shouted.

Her dad swallowed, but did not flinch. The look in his eyes showed determination, not fear.

Holtby shook his fist and sent the blade back into his sleeve. “I’m not looking to harm anyone, lass. Just making a few things clear.”

“Holtby is my personal custodian,” said Margaret. “I tell him to pluck out the eyes of an infant, and he will do so. Do not mistake my cheery demeanour for patience, for I have none.”

Chester moved into the centre of the room. “Come now, everybody. We all want the same thing. Scarlet’s father just wants a few assurances. What father wouldn’t?”

Margaret took a deep breath and let it out like an irritable dragon. “Very well. You have done good work here, Miles, in locating The Spark and bringing her so close, so I will humour you.” She turned to Scarlet’s dad. “The spell I wish to perform will draw out the magic inside Scarlet and allow me to contain it in a receptacle. That receptacle will then be placed in the White Order’s vault, where not even The Father, himself, could get at it. The Spark will be safe and no magical apocalypse will occur. Our task will be completed to the satisfaction of the High Council. Understood?”

“No,” said Scarlet’s father. “Will it hurt her?”

“Perhaps, but she will no longer be a target of supernatural assassins. Think of it like an operation. Having an inflamed appendix removed is no picnic, yet it is vital to future health.”

Her dad said nothing, but Scarlet nodded on his behalf. “Okay. So doing this spell will make me normal?”

“As normal as teenage girls can be, yes.”

“Then I want to do it.”

Her dad looked at her, but he didn’t argue. “Are you sure?”

“I just want the nightmare to end. Eventually, The Saint is going to kill me; especially now that Sorrow is gone.”

Chester frowned. “What happened to Sorrow?”

“The Saint attacked my dad, and he was there to help. He didn’t make it.”

“I’m assuming you mean the demon sent to protect this girl?” said Margaret.

Chester nodded. “When he arrived, he had no memory of who he was. I must say, that as far as demons go, he’s not all that bad.”

Margaret grunted. “Mr Chester, have you taken leave of your senses? Manah is one of the vilest creatures ever to walk this earth. We need to seriously discuss your priorities when all this is over. A demon-sympathiser is of no use to the cause.”

Chester swallowed loudly. “I am more than capable.”

“Sorrow is the only reason I’m still alive,” Scarlet objected, having had enough of the crabby old woman looking down her nose at everyone.

“That’s precisely my point. You are the metaphysical equivalent of a nuclear bomb, and Manah’s role is to make sure you go off one day. You people seem to have things very backwards. Manah wants to see the world burn—he is not the valiant hero here. The Saint is the force of good in this equation. He has been responsible for stopping countless tragedies throughout human history. Do you know that, prior to Hiroshima, the Japanese developed a warhead that, once ignited, would convert the atmosphere into a perpetual fuel supply? They had no idea that if they had ever set it off, they would have immolated the entire planet. Every square inch of oxygen would have turned to flame. The Saint assassinated the scientists involved and destroyed the research. To this day, their Government believes that the United States sent Special Forces to do the deed.”

“Then how do you know about it?” Scarlet asked.

“Because The Saint and the White Order are on the same side. During the Second World War, members of the Order assisted The Saint many times. Our history with him goes back a very long way, and he will not be pleased that one of our members has been working against him.”

Scarlet’s dad snarled. “You mean, you people associate with the maniac that tried to murder my teenage daughter right outside her own home? Then you are as much a monster as he.”

Margaret wore no expression. “I, myself, have yet to have the pleasure of making The Saint’s acquaintance, but once again, I will highlight that your notions of good and bad are muddled. The Saint wishes to prevent the end of mankind. You label him a monster. Ridiculous.”

“She’s right, dad. I’m the dangerous one here, not The Saint.”

But he didn’t agree. “Way I see it, there are no good guys. If the good guys are willing to murder innocent girls, then they are just as bad as the other side. If that’s the cost of being good, then I’d much rather follow the Devil.”

Margaret rolled her eyes behind her spectacles. “There is no singular Devil, Mr Thomas. The reality is far worse. There are forces in existence that your mind cannot even begin to comprehend, and there are fates a hundred times worse than death. Now, if you have any sense at all, you will allow me to get started.”

Her dad went to argue again, but Scarlet grabbed his hand. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go back to our lives.”

“Very well,” said Margaret. “Let us begin then. Scarlet, stand inside the circle.”

She did as she was told and stepped over the red paint. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

“The paint is cat’s blood mixed with ground up acorns.”

“Eww. Did you kill a cat?”

“No,” snapped Margaret. “A shaman has such things on hand at all times. I’m sure Mr Chester already explained that the small magic we can still utilise is possible only through sacrifice. Human blood and dead foetuses would work best, but cat’s blood and acorns will suffice. The blood of a mammal and the unborn.”

Scarlet nodded. “Cat’s blood and an acorn. I get it.”

“What a relief,” said Margaret. “Now, kick off your shoes and place your bare feet on the grasses. You must be tethered to the earth for the spell to flow through you.”

Scarlet kicked off her shoes and placed her toes amongst the grass and straw. It stabbed at her soles and made her itch.

“Keep still,” Margaret chided. “You don’t want me to turn you into a monkey, do you?”

“Y-you can do that?”

“If I’m in a bad mood.”

“You’re in a good mood?”

“Yes, can’t you tell?”

“Not really.”

“What’s next?” her dad asked impatiently.

“Now we stay silent,” Chester whispered. “Margaret must now speak the incantations of the spell. It must be spoken in ancient tongues.”

Holtby moved then, making everyone, except Margaret, flinch. He’d been so still and quiet for the past ten minutes that he seemed to have disappeared, but now that he moved, all eyes were on him. He dragged a chair over from the side of the room and sat down on it before crossing his legs femininely. He noticed them all staring and smirked. “It might be a while, folks, and I’m not one for standing when I don’t have to.”

Chester took heed of the comment and dragged over another two chairs—one for him, and one for Scarlet’s dad.

Margaret rolled her eyes. “If you’re all quite finished?”

Everyone went still and quiet.

Margaret kept outside the circle and faced Scarlet. Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together and let them hang at her waist. “Cadatha, lux partis boll vartis. Camla holl lux montra. Kathtarla Kath.”

This went on for almost twenty minutes. Scarlet had to fight to stay still. Her feet ached from the uncarpeted floor beneath the grasses, and she had an itch right in the centre of her spine that she was dying to get at. She was relieved when Margaret finally stopped speaking nonsense and started speaking in English again. To Holtby she said, “Give me the receptacle.”

Holtby leapt up out of his chair and was by her side in a second. In his hand, he offered out a small, silver cylinder not much bigger than a pen.

“That’s it?” Scarlet asked. “That little thing is going to hold The Spark?”

“Silence! You must not interrupt the spell. I have performed the preparation, but now I must pull the magic from your body into this receptacle.”

Scarlet shut up. What was coming sounded painful—she hoped it wasn’t.

Margaret went back to chanting gibberish.

The pain began soon after.

“It… It’s burning my feet.”

“The spell is beginning to work,” said Margaret. “Remain still. It will be over soon.”

Scarlet gritted her teeth. It felt like something was sucking on her skin, trying to turn her inside out. At first, it felt like a burning sensation, but it was really more like pressure—something drawing her insides out. “I can’t… I can’t…”

“You’re hurting her,” she heard her dad shout.

Chester’s voice: “Remember, it is like an operation. Stay calm, Mr Thomas. She can take it.”

“No,” she cried. “I can’t.”

She began to scream.

Her dad rushed to get her, but Holtby was up out of his chair again with his blade to Scarlet’s father’s throat. He tried to shove the blade away, but the other man punched him in the face with his free hand and sent him to the ground. “Don’t make me open you up, mister.”

“I’ll kill you,” he growled.

“No, you won’t,” said Holtby with a twitchy smile.

“Everybody remain still!” Margaret hollered in a voice that was manly and deep.

Scarlet went to move, as she could take no more, but found that she couldn’t. Only her mouth could move and it was busy screaming. The pain increased to a point where she could barely breathe, and her mind became so muddled that her vision was only a series of brief glimpses.

This time, it was Chester who objected. “Margaret, she shouldn’t be in this much pain, surely? A de-infusion is not supposed to be like this.”

Margaret turned to glare at Chester. “I’m not doing a de-infusion, you fool. What do you think you are doing? This is The Spark in front of us. We have spent our entire lives waiting for this moment. She must die.”

“What? No, that is not why I brought you here.”

“No,” she spat. “That is why the Council brought you here. You have neglected your duties, Miles. I am to bring you before the Council as soon as we are done here. You are finished.”

“You bitch! I won’t allow you to do this.”

“You have no choice.”

Chester lowered his shoulder and ran at Margaret, but Holtby was there in a flash. He threw out his arm again, and that flash of steel came out from his sleeve.

The knife entered Chester’s shoulder and made him howl.

Holtby pulled the blade free and shoved him aside.

“You should have killed him,” Margaret said. “He attacked me.”

“Forbidden to slice up another member of the Order. It was enough to get the point across, though. It’s a lesson that will stick with him, you know? I took a stab at-”

“Holtby! Not now.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Scarlet managed to move her eyes in her pain-filled skull, and saw her dad getting up off the floor. He was staying low, and creeping along while Margaret bickered with her custodian. Holtby was too wily to trick, though, and he soon glanced aside and spotted him.

“Hey, stay right there, papa bear.”

“Leave my daughter alone, you monsters.”

It looked like her dad was going to rush Holtby, and Scarlet panicked when she thought he would end up on the bad end of that wrist blade, but instead, he rushed towards her.

He made it over to the circle and dragged his foot across the bloody paint, cutting out a streak. Then he dove into the air towards Scarlet. Her eyes went wide, her body bracing for impact. He struck her right in the ribs, yet the pain of it was no worse than what Margaret had been doing to her. Together, the two of them fell backwards.

As soon as the bloody circle had been broken, she had been able to move, and now that she was lying on her back with her father on top of her, she struggled urgently. The pain ebbed away from her, as if it had never even been there, and she was able to roll free and leap up to her feet. Her dad got up a split-second after and stood in front of her, facing down the members of the Order. “You’re done,” he growled. “No one is getting near my daughter.”

Holtby grinned.

Margaret was not grinning, although she did seem satisfied. “Bravo, Mr Thomas, but I’m afraid it’s too late,” she purred. “All you did was buy your daughter a little time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the true purpose of my spell was to unravel Scarlet’s life force, and I succeeded. She is dying, Mr Thomas. Fast enough that she won’t make it to her eighteenth birthday, which suits our agenda just fine. Thank you for being so cooperative.”

Her dad wobbled. “Y-you bastards.”

Holtby began to laugh, head and shoulders bobbing like a chicken.

Mr Chester wept.

Scarlet vomited.

~ Chapter Fourteen ~

“You had no right!” Chester clambered up off the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder, but seemingly too angry to care. His skin had turned to chalk and oil, but his voice was powerful and strong. Scarlet had never seen him act so aggressively.

Margaret glanced at him like excrement on her heel. “You do not speak to me, Mr Chester. As far as I am concerned, it is only a matter of days before you are struck from the Order. You have been helping our sworn enemy.”

“I have been helping an INNOCENT girl. This is not our mission. We are here to protect humanity, not lose it.”

Margaret tutted. “Come on, Holtby. Let us leave this horrible little town. Our work is done. Oh yes, and please take Mr Chester into custody. He will be returning to the city with us.”

“You’re not bloody taking me anywhere, Margaret!”

“We’ll see about that, me old Mucker.” Holtby hopped towards Chester, but an almighty crash made him stop.

Margaret spun around. “What was that?”

“It sounded like it came from the shop floor,” said Holtby. He had tensed up like a vulture ready to take flight, but his appearance was deceptive and underneath his feathers was a jackal in hiding.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go.”

Holtby disappeared.

Chester stood protectively in front of Scarlet and her dad. Scarlet was still gagging and retching. “Leave this place, Margaret. You’ve done enough damage.”

“I am not leaving without you, Miles. You’ll be thrown in front of the High Council for judgement.”

“It’s you who should be judged.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I acted upon my own agency? The High Council wants The Spark dealt with. My mandate was very clear. They won’t be completely satisfied that my spell didn’t have time to complete fully, but the result will be sufficient. The girl has a year at most.”

Scarlet moaned in pain, but it was more imagined than physical. She imagined poison flowing through her veins, breaking down her organs slowly—a cancer that would kill her in less than twelve months. But at least she was no longer dangerous. At least she could die with a clean conscience that nobody had got hurt. Except for Indy. What has The Saint done to him? Was he dead? Like she would be soon? Dead by seventeen. It wasn’t fair.

“What did I ever do to you?” Scarlet managed to ask the icy woman currently packing away her things into a brown, leather satchel.

“It’s about what you would have done, girl. Beyond that, you are of no importance to me”

“How do you know I would even have done anything? How do you know anything for sure?”

“The prophecies-”

“Could be wrong,” Scarlet interrupted. “I might have been responsible for doing a bad thing, but you are responsible for doing something bad right now. You probably tell yourself that you’re doing good, and that the means justify the ends, but I don’t think you really believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t be such a bitch.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare I? You just cast a spell to kill me. I’d say I’m pretty much entitled to call you whatever I like. How does: cold, lizard bitch-face with sagging tits, grab you? You’re nothing but-”

Margaret slapped Scarlet hard across the face, knocking the words right out of her mouth. It hurt like a mother and bought tears to her eyes. It also pissed her off.

“I’m so glad you just did that.” She lunged at Margaret with her claws out and knocked the woman to the ground. Then she started unleashing slaps of her own—lefts and rights—connecting with the bitch’s bony cheeks on either side.

“Get her off me! She’s bloody mad.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Scarlet screamed in her face. “And I’m dying, thanks to you, so this is the one chance I’m going to get to whoop your arse.” She drove her fist into Margaret’s nose and split it open at the bridge. The escaping blood made her feel queasy, but also pretty freakin’ great.

Before she had time to deliver another blow, her dad dragged her backwards and back onto her feet. “Okay, Scarlet, she’s had enough.”

“I’m going to kill her,” she raged.

“That would make you as bad as her,” said Chester. “Leave her to look in the mirror at night. That should be bad enough punishment.”

The three of them looked down at Margaret, who gingerly climbed to her feet, wary of another attack. One of her shoes had fallen off, and it took her three attempts to wiggle her foot back inside it. Her blazer was ruffled, and blood had dripped from her nose onto her white blouse. “You little monster! I’ll make you pay for this.”

The door to the shop floor burst open and Holtby appeared, looking decidedly less amused than normal. “Eh, I think you need to see this.”

It was assumed he was talking to Margaret, but then it became apparent that he was addressing them all.

“What is it?” asked Chester.

“Someone’s standing outside the shop. Kid said his name is Indy.”

Scarlet’s eyes went wide. “Indy! He’s okay?”

Holtby shook his head and raised an unkempt eyebrow. “Not exactly, luv.”

Her dad tried to grab her before she set off, but was too slow. She shoved Margaret out of her way and even Holtby dodged aside. Indy had gotten hurt because of her and she needed to make sure he was alright. At least now that she was dying, The Saint should leave them all alone. Perhaps that was why Indy was here now; The Saint had let him go—without his hand.

Indy was standing right outside the shop’s door, his face pressed up against the glass.

“Indy! Let me open the door,” she said, racing across the shop floor towards him. She was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. Indy could have let himself in, but hadn’t done so. Then she remembered that he was missing a hand.

She pulled open the door and reached out to him, but didn’t grab him because she didn’t want to hurt him. “Come in,” she urged. “Come in.”

Indy stepped forward. His right hand was indeed missing, but no blood fell from the stump, which looked like it had been cut cleanly and by something very hot. His usually brown skin was now almost white, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

“Indy, I’m so sorry.”

“Scar?”

“Yes, Indy, it’s me. I’ll get you some help. Come inside.”

“No! You need to come outside with me.”

She had been about to turn around and go for the phone on the counter, but she stopped. “What? Why?”

“He said that if you don’t come outside, Scar, he’ll kill me.”

“But you’re safe now. Everything has been dealt with.”

Indy shook his head. Both of his eyes were bloodshot, and they looked down and to the left.

Scarlet followed his gaze until she spotted a length of chain dragging on the floor behind him. Some of the links were blood-stained. It ran up the back of his leg and under his shirt. He remained perfectly still, even when she lifted his shirt to see where the chain led.

“Oh, my god.” She covered her mouth and tried not to be sick. The length of chain disappeared right inside Indy’s back—buried in the flesh behind his spine. “What has he done to you?”

“He said that if you don’t come outside, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me, Scar. Said if you don’t…” His words descended into muttering, and then quiet sobbing.

Scarlet heard footsteps behind her and turned around. Chester and her dad were there, Holtby and Margaret too. “You said this was over!” she shouted at Margaret.

“And indeed it should be.” The woman looked confused. “The Saint obviously does not know that I have performed a spell. Strange, for he should be focused in on your life force. He should know that I-”

“Come outside or he’ll kill me,” Indy repeated, cutting Margaret off.

Scarlet put both of her hands against Indy’s face and looked into his eyes. “Okay, Indy. I’ll go outside. Don’t worry, okay?”

Indy smiled and his eyes filled with more tears.

“You can’t go out there,” her dad shouted.

“This is over,” she said. “The Saint doesn’t need to hurt anybody else. I’m no longer The Spark. So why is there a chain attached to Indy’s spine?”

Margaret actually looked sickened. Dry blood smeared her face, but she still somehow managed to look green. “I-I don’t understand what is happening. I need to speak with The Saint myself. This is unnecessary.”

“Well, he isn’t getting in my shop,” said Chester. “I have a ward of Auris in place.”

“Calaris box tre taris,” said Margaret. “And now I have just broken it. The Saint can enter and explain himself. His actions are barbaric.”

“You just did what?” said Chester. “What if he comes in and kills us all?”

Scarlet’s dad looked at him. “What? What did she just do?”

“She just spoke the undoing words for the spell I cast to protect this building. Now The Saint can walk right in here.”

Her dad went to make a move on Margaret, but Holtby stood in front of him and shook his head. “Not gunna happen, mister.”

“Come outside or he’ll kill me,” Indy said, growing more desperate.

Scarlet held Indy in her arms. He was shivering—freezing cold. Then she moved into the open doorway and looked out into the night. “I’m not coming out there, you hear me? You can come to me. You can come inside and explain why you are doing this, you monster.”

There was a flash of movement.

The metal chain on the floor went taut.

Scarlet screamed.

Indy snapped in two. The chain disappeared out the door, along with a glistening chunk of his spine. His lifeless body flopped into Scarlet’s arms.

“Indy! Indy, no! Somebody help!”

Her dad appeared behind her and dragged her away. Indy fell from her arms and crumpled to the floor at an unnatural angle, a puppet with its strings cut.

Margaret marched over and looked down at Indy’s broken remains. “This is entirely unnecessary,” she said. “What on earth is he playing at?”

Holtby was beside her, shaking his head and fidgeting. “I thought I had issues.”

“He’s here!” cried Chester.

They all looked up at once and saw The Saint appear. His towering frame filled the doorway where he paused for a moment, then took a slow step over the threshold. He was inside.

“My name is Margaret Kindersley, Grand Shaman of the White Order—your long-time allies. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, sir, but I must ask what exactly it is that you are doing? I have drained this girl’s life force. She will not live long enough to ignite the world. Your mission is over.” Despite being almost three feet shorter, she marched right up to The Saint as if he were a naughty child.

“Yes,” he said in hissing speech. “My mission is over, yet I have been gravely defied. I gave my word that if the girl continued to elude me, I would wreak vengeance upon her. I will destroy everything she cares about.”

“I think you should sleep on it,” said Holtby. “My urge to kill is always a little less after a good night’s sleep, mister.”

“The girl is dying,” Margaret stated. “Isn’t that enough?”

“She will die tonight, at my hand. I will not accept compromise. My mission may be over, but it is not finished.”

“Now look here.”

The Saint swatted Margaret to the ground like a mangy dog that had dared jump up at him.

“Looks like I’m up,” said Holtby, who leapt into the air like a bird of prey. This time, blades came out of both his sleeves and he crisscrossed them in a blur and tore deep furrows into The Saint’s chest. He followed it up by twirling around and slicing the larger man’s kneecaps.

The Saint dropped down to one knee and grunted.

“And they said you couldn’t be killed,” Holtby quipped. “Allow me to take a slice at proving them wrong.” This time he aimed for The Saint’s throat. But this time, The Saint was too quick. He caught both wrist blades in mid-air and snapped them like twigs.

“Oh shite,” said Holtby, right before The Saint picked him up and tossed him across the room like a bag of rubbish.

“You have to do something,” Scarlet shouted at Chester.

“Do what? I… Sorrow was a demon sent to protect you, and he failed. What can I do?”

“Sorrow?” said Margaret, a light suddenly in her eyes. “Do you have something of his?”

Scarlet looked at the battered shaman and glared. The only reason she was able to crawl across the floor towards them was because her custodian, Holtby, was back up on his feet and throwing himself at The Saint, ducking and weaving, and buying them all time.

“What are you talking about?” Scarlet asked.

Margaret sighed. “Sorrow is a demon. He cannot die—only be injured. If you have something he possessed, then I can summon him.”

“He was a demon,” said Chester. “He had no possessions.”

“Yes, he did,” said Scarlet. “I gave him something.”

Margaret bore into her with an urgent stare. “What was it?”

Scarlet reached into her pocket. “I gave him this. He asked me to hold onto it and keep it safe.”

“What is it?” her dad asked.

“Half a pendant. I have the other half around my neck, see?” She showed him the half-dove on the chain.

“I knew he was your boyfriend!”

“Dad, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a demon.”

“Could you discuss this later, perhaps,” said Margaret. “My custodian is being beaten half to death, and I would much rather it be a demon in his place. Give me the pendant.”

Scarlet handed it over, but as she did so, Margaret grabbed her wrist and sliced the crease where her hand met her arm. The small blade had come from nowhere.

“Ow, you bitch!”

“Will you please stop calling me that. I need your blood, Scarlet. You are connected to Manah.”

“His name is Sorrow.”

“And I’m twenty three, now hold still.” She held Scarlet’s palm open with the pendant placed on it, and smudged blood all over the silver clasp. “Against the tides and laws of The Father, I summon thee, dark spirit and spawn of the Corrupter. Bring forth your wickedness and reap the flesh of innocence. The night calls you now so that you may breathe in shadow.” Scarlet and her dad looked at Margaret in confusion, but the woman just shrugged. “I’m summoning a demon,” she said. “It’s a satanic ritual, not a nursery rhyme. I keep telling you people that Manah is evil, but you won’t believe me, will you? Manah, come forth. Feed on our flesh and take our bodies. We are yours. With this totem I bind you, and with innocent blood I call to you.”

Holtby yelled. “I’m pretty much done here, ma’am. Gonna take a short rest if you don’t mind.”

They all looked around to see that Holtby was now lying on his back and taking short, ragged breaths. His leg was snapped sideways, and a mask of blood covered his face. The fight was over, and he had not won on points.

The Saint marched towards them.

“Where is he?” Chester urged. “Where’s Sorrow?”

“I don’t know,” said Margaret, her voice betraying her nerves. “I called him, you heard me.”

“No you didn’t,” said Scarlet. “You called Manah, not Sorrow.”

Margaret cursed. “Oh, bloody well all right, then. Sorrow, come forth. With this totem I bind you, and with innocent blood I call you.”

The Saint was on them, reaching down for Scarlet.

She screamed.

A blinding flash of light lit up the entire store and forced them to shield their eyes.

The Saint growled. “Manah, you have returned.”

“My name,” he said, “is Sorrow.”

“You cannot defeat me, demon.”

“I’ll find a way.”

Sorrow leapt at The Saint, and the two began fighting—two supernatural wolverines ripping each other apart.

“You three need to get out of here,” said Margaret.

“And go where?” Scarlet’s dad grunted at her.

“You need to go to the place where The Saint first appeared. That is where he will be weakest. You must banish him.”

“The lake,” said Scarlet. “That’s where I found Sorrow. Maybe The Saint came from the same place.”

Margaret nodded. “Chester, do you know how to perform a cleansing?”

“I… Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Well, remember quickly! Go to the lake. The Saint will follow you there. Perform the cleansing.”

“We should call the police.” Scarlet’s dad pointed at Indy’s body. “A boy has been killed.”

Margaret nodded. “I’ll call the Council; they will sort everything out, but you all need to go.”

Scarlet watched Sorrow taking a beating up against the shop’s counter. All around trinkets and antiques lay smashed, dented, and broken. The cute little chair that Scarlet had wanted to buy was a pile of splinters. “We need to help Sorrow.”

“He can’t die. You can. Now go.”

“Why are you helping me? You put a death sentence on me.”

“I was trying to stop the end of the world. There’s no reason for The Saint to kill you now, other than pettiness. I must admit I’m disappointed in him.”

“Mourn your idol later, Margaret,” said Chester. “Let’s go.”

“Not me. I will buy you some time and help Manah. I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

“Thank you,” said Scarlet. “Although you’re still a bitch.”

Margaret squinted. “There’s no respect these days.”

“Come on.” Scarlet’s dad pulled her up and dragged her towards the door. Before she left with him and Chester, she took one last look at Indy’s body. Her only friend had died helping her. She didn’t feel sad. She felt angry.

~ Chapter Fifteen ~

Time rocketed by so quickly that the sun had already begun to nip at the horizon. Scarlet, her dad, and Chester beat it, on foot, away from the town centre and towards nearby Red Lake. Scarlet knew the way so well, but tonight it felt like she was racing towards a shadowy pit. The town had become a mystical battleground, and was no longer the picturesque hamlet she thought it was.

When they finally reached the lake, the dawn was less than an hour away. The first dog walkers of the day would soon arrive. Witnesses.

Scarlet led them around the water’s edge, trying to find the exact spot where The Saint might have emerged. Eventually, she found the muddy indentations left by Sorrow. “This is where I found Sorrow.”

“He just climbed out of the water?” Chester asked.

“No, he was just lying here.”

Her dad sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me at the time, Scarlet?”

“I have no idea. I should have.”

“I very much doubt,” said Chester, “that the situation could have gone any differently than it has.”

Scarlet looked at her boss, a man she had known for a year, yet had not known at all. “Thank you, Chester. You’ve gone against everything you believe in to help me.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I remained true to everything I believe in. The White Order is a force of good, but sometimes they fail to see the grey—just look at The Saint. Are his actions righteous? I think not.”

“Do you think Margaret will reverse her spell after all this?” her dad asked hopefully.

“I doubt it. She is as loyal to the Order as anyone among its ranks, and the Order will not save the life of one girl and jeopardise existence.”

“It’s better this way,” said Scarlet. “I don’t want to be responsible for hurting anybody.”

Her dad pulled her close. “I won’t let you go. There’ll be a way, and we’ll find it.”

“Yes,” said Chester. “I intend to help you in any way I can, Mr Thomas.”

“Thank you. My daughter means everything to me.”

“Of course. I may not have a place within the Order anymore, but I’ll do what I can.”

“You’ve already done enough,” said Scarlet. “I don’t want to risk becoming a danger again.”

“Scarlet, listen to me. I-“

There was a popping sound, and the surface of the lake began to boil.

“What’s going on?” her dad asked.

Chester shook his head. “I have no idea.”

The circle of boiling water began moving towards the bank.

“It’s coming this way,” her dad shouted. “Scarlet, get back.”

They edged backwards as something emerged from the water, retreating faster when they saw that it was a man.

But it was no threat. It was Sorrow.

He clambered up onto the shore, panting and bleeding like the first time Scarlet had met him, but this time, he was wearing her dad’s dirty trousers and shirt.

Scarlet ran to his aid and helped him stand up. “Sorrow, how did you make it here?”

“The woman with man’s hair sent me.”

“Margaret? Why did she send you here? You were fighting The Saint.”

“He defeated me and left to find you. The woman sent me here to protect you, but Scarlet, I have tried several times to defeat The Saint, but I cannot. You should run from here.”

“No,” she said. “We end this now. Here.”

“But The Saint is coming.”

“How long do we have?” Chester asked.

Sorrow looked at him. “Not long. He has only grown more furious since our last battle. I fear that he will murder all in sight. I beg you to flee. I will delay him as much as possible, but I cannot stop him.”

Scarlet shook her head. “You can’t stop him alone, maybe, but this time we will all fight him. I’m dead anyway, so what do I have to lose?”

Sorrow’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the woman with man’s hair drained my life force.”

He began to tremble with rage. “Then I shall kill her.”

“Later,” said Chester. “She’s not the priority.”

“No,” Sorrow agreed.

Scarlet reached into her pocket and pulled out the half-pendant. “I’ve been looking after it for you.”

Sorrow took it from her like it was a delicate flower. “My talisman. Thank you, Scarlet.”

She helped him place it around his neck. Their eyes met, and she found herself leaning forward to kiss him. At first, he acted like he didn’t know what she was doing, but then he returned the kiss.

“Scarlet!” Her dad shouted.

“Oh, sorry, dad.”

“I knew he was your boyfriend.”

“I am what?” asked Sorrow.

Scarlet smiled at him. “Nevermind. We need to be ready.”

“Yes,” said Chester, pointing his hand. “Because The Saint is here.”

Emerging from the shadowy woods, their unkillable enemy marched towards them like death approaching.

~ Chapter Sixteen ~

“You need to delay him while I perform the cleansing,” Chester urged.

Sorrow was in a bad way, but he stiffened up and marched towards The Saint to head the giant off.

The Saint said nothing. His eyes were dark swirls, and he continued forward like a runaway lorry, grabbing Sorrow by his arm and snapping it at the elbow. He flung the injured demon to the ground and kept coming.

Scarlet’s dad was next up. He snatched a rock from the embankment and hurled it. It hit The Saint in the chest, but bounced off like a rubber ball.

“He’s not stopping!” Scarlet cried.

Chester began his ritual. “St. Peter. St Paul. St Andrew.”

Sorrow managed to fling himself at The Saint’s legs and tackle the giant to the ground. Scarlet’s dad ran to help him—jumping on top of him and raining down punches. Nothing damaged him, but at least they managed to keep him down on the ground.

Chester continued with his chanting, his voice becoming background music to the battle. “From all evil, deliver us, O Lord. From all sin, deliver us, O Lord.”

Scarlet was standing out in the open, doing nothing. The people she cared about—and who cared about her—were fighting to defend her, but she was doing nothing. It was wrong. This was her fight.

She ran up and kicked The Saint in the back, hitting him between the shoulder blades. Her toes scrunched up in agony, and she ended up hopping on one foot.

“Scarlet, get back,” her dad shouted.

“We said we were going to work together,” she argued through the pain.

“To protect you. Scarlet, get-”

The Saint landed a punch, hard enough to cross his eyes. His head thudded back against the ground and he went to sleep.

Sorrow rammed his thumbs into The Saint’s eyes, making the giant bellow, but the anger only made him stronger. He grabbed a hold of Sorrow and flung him aside.

Scarlet tried to grab The Saint, but she found out how foolish it was when he spun around and grabbed her by the throat. Holding her in place, he slapped her face with the back of his other hand. Her teeth clacked together, catching her lower lip between them. Blood filled her mouth—hot and metallic.

“You stinking, bottom-feeding vermin, allowing you to live this long has shamed me, but my humiliation ends now. I will defile all that you hold dear.”

Scarlet’s vision blurred, and the pressure rose to her skull, making her eyes bulge. She tried to open her mouth to talk, but she couldn’t get any oxygen to form words. Every time she tried, she choked on her own blood. Chester was too far away to help her. The burning around her neck had started as The Saint’s fingertips spat fire.

“Your soul will burn in Hell, child.”

Scarlet could only spit.

As before, The Saint reeled back, utterly horrified. He let go of her and wiped at his face. This time it was not purely disgust that had taken hold of him, though. He was in pain. The bloody saliva landed on his cheek below his left eye, which now steamed like a boiled egg. The Saint let out a high-pitched scream and threw out his arms in agony.

Scarlet caught a glancing blow from one of his meaty fists and tumbled down the embankment. Her palm came down on something hard and jagged, and she squealed. Blood gushed from her hand, and she saw that it was pierced by a sharp rock. She yanked the stone free then tried to get up. She was sure she was about to be attacked, but when she looked up at the path, The Saint was still suffering.

Chester saw that she was injured and started to come and help her, but she threw up her hands and stopped him. “Keep performing the ritual,” she shouted. “Don’t stop for anything.”

Chester nodded.

Scarlet got up and hurried over to Sorrow and her dad. Both of them were clambering to their feet, equally battered and bruised.

“What did you do?” her dad asked, watching The Saint spin around in agony.

“I don’t know. I think it was my blood.”

Sorrow grabbed her shoulder and looked at her. “You are hurt.”

“I’m okay.”

“Your blood is poison to The Saint,” he said.

“Yes, but why?”

“Because you’re on opposite sides,” her dad said, no longer a bewildered spectator, but an active participant in the madness. “If your mother’s magic really is evil, and if that son-of-a-bitch is what counts as good, then your blood and his just don’t mix.”

“You mean, my blood is like a messed up version of flashing a cross at a vampire?”

Her dad nodded.

“You will die!” The Saint ran at them, the left side of his face was now a blackened mess.

Scarlet swirled the inside of her mouth to gather saliva, but any blood remaining had gone down her throat. “I need more of my blood,” she said, then looked at her throbbing palm where she had fallen on the jagged rock. The wound was messy, and bleeding.

Her dad grabbed her and pulled her back. “No, we just need to buy Chester some time. We’re not using any more of your blood.”

Sorrow launched at The Saint on his blind side and managed to rock him. Scarlet’s dad went again to help, while Scarlet headed towards Chester, who was trembling as he continued his litany. He reached out and pulled her close to him in a hug—the first time he had ever done so. “This will all be over soon, Scarlet.”

“I hope so.”

The Saint was weakened since her blood had stained his cheek, but he was still stronger than Sorrow and her dad combined. Eventually, he would break free of their assault, and she wasn’t sure how many times more she could escape his grasp. Every part of her begged to give in and just end things now, but seeing her dad hurt made her resolute. The Saint had kicked him in the leg and doubled him over, then grabbed Sorrow by his stained, white shirt so forcefully that it tore open and ripped from his back. The gnarled torso it revealed was blackened with bruises and streaked with blood. The fact that Sorrow was still able to stand was a miracle, but he was a demon and miracles were not for him. The Saint slapped him down to the ground and stomped on his ribs.

Her dad was back up, but this time he didn’t attack. He chose to beg. “Just leave her alone,” he said. “You have what you wanted. She won’t live to become a threat. Please, I’m begging you. Let me have the time left with my daughter.”

The Saint sneered at him. “You fornicated with a witch—actions which led to the threat in the first place. Hell beckons to you also.” He swiped at her dad, but he ducked and dodged out of the way. Missing made The Saint angry, so he pursued doggedly. Every time he flung out his giant arms, he struck nothing but air and grew even more furious. Scarlet’s dad was desperate, but that made him fast.

Sorrow was on his hands and knees, and somehow managed to keep going. How much could one body take, demon or not?

She ran over to help him, and placed her hands on his shoulders and back. He flinched at her touch and tried to climb up. “I need to help your father.”

“This isn’t working,” she said. “He’s going to kill you.”

“That is acceptable.”

“Not to me it’s not. Sorrow, I don’t want anyone else dead because of me.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Scarlet shot a glance at her dad, who was still managing to elude the half-blind strikes of The Saint, but he was growing more tired with every dodge. Then she looked at Sorrow’s battered body, and realised that she had no ideas at all. She should have given herself to The Saint at the very beginning—before his mission became one of vengeance. “I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing herself at Sorrow and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. If it was all going to end, she didn’t want to see it coming. Let her die in the embrace of the creature sent to protect her.

“Scarlet, let go. Something is… wrong.”

She moved back a little and looked at him. “What is it?”

“I… I do not know, it hurts.”

Sorrow began to writhe, arching his back and wrenching his shoulders like he had an itch he couldn’t get to. He lurched forward and thrust his hands into the wet mud of the bank and yelled in pain. It allowed Scarlet to see his back, which was rippling and distorting like he had some kind of alien coming out of him. She also saw the long smears of blood.

“My palm,” she muttered, holding up her injured hand in front of her and seeing that it was glistening with fresh blood. When she hugged Sorrow, her blood had smeared all over his back. But what did that mean?

Sorrow looked up at her, his face changed again like it had at Little Treasures Emporium yesterday. He was a demon in the flesh, but in obvious pain. He reached out his hand and pointed. The Saint was coming.

Her dad lay motionless on the path.

“You’re a monster,” Scarlet shouted, bolting up to her feet and standing her ground. “You’re the one who should be in Hell. What is wrong with you?”

The Saint reached her, but she did not run. She leapt at him and hammered his chest with all the strength she had left. Spots of blood flew from her injured hand and sizzled on his flesh, but most of it had congealed and was not enough to injure him gravely. He tolerated the drops of blood like a chef tolerating a spitting egg—blinking and flinching briefly, but not backing away. She carried on beating at him until her arms threatened to give out. The Saint had not yet sought to grab her, and simply observed her angry display with curiosity, seemingly content to wait until it was over. Once it was, he began to growl.

“Get away from him,” her dad shouted from the ground.

“To me, Scarlet!” Chester yelled.

She looked at him and shook her head. “I can’t run anymore.” She looked The Saint in his one good eye. “Do your worst.”

But The Saint never got the chance to do his worst. Something swooped from the sky and snatched him away before he raised a fist, and lifted him ten feet into the air before releasing him. He hurtled back down to the ground, body colliding with the cement pathway. The crunch of bones echoed across the lake.

Scarlet tottered back on her heels and shielded her eyes as she looked up at the morning sky. The newly-arrived sun cast a shadow across the looping comet headed towards her. Her arms went up automatically to protect herself, but the object landed beside her. She was astonished to see that it was Sorrow. His bruises and cuts had all gone. Bright red eyes glowed inside his bumpy skull, and on his back was a magnificent pair of black wings. “S-Sorrow? What happened to you?”

“I do not know, but I am stronger.”

The Saint was back up on his feet immediately, and charging like a dazed rhino. Sorrow flapped his massive wings—blowing back Scarlet’s hair—then swooped up and collided with his adversary, taking him back up into the air once more, but this time flipping him into the lake. The splash rose ten feet above the surface.

Chester ran over to her on shaky legs. “The ritual is done. The Saint can be banished.”

“What’s to stop him coming back again?” she said.

“His mission is done. The Father won’t send him back just so he can get revenge. In fact, I imagine he’ll be punished for his behaviour.”

“Good,” she said. “What do we do then? How do we banish him?”

Chester shook his head. “If he were a demon inhabiting a human body then he would have already been expelled, but The Saint is inhabiting his own body. We need to kill him.”

“I thought he couldn’t be killed.”

“That was before I performed the cleansing. His tether to the other world has been broken. Killing him won’t be easy, but it’s now possible.”

Scarlet watched Sorrow soar above the lake and smiled. “Especially now that my blood supercharged my bodyguard.”

“It won’t last for long,” Chester said.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your blood awakened Sorrow’s dormant powers, the powers that were taken from him when the Father cast his spell so long ago. You have displayed what The Spark was designed to do—give demons and monsters, like Sorrow, back their powers—but as soon as his body uses up your blood in his system, his powers will disappear.”

“How long does he have?”

“I have no idea, but I can only imagine his powers are extremely temporary.”

Scarlet watched as The Saint dragged himself through the water, back to the bank, and started to climb onto his feet. He was startled and disorientated, but looked as willing to fight as ever. He glared up at Sorrow, still swooping through the sky, and bellowed in rage.

“We need to kill him fast,” said Scarlet. “While we have a chance.”

Sorrow swooped down for another attack.

~ Chapter Seventeen ~

The Saint clambered up the bank. A sucking wound tore his chest in two and his blackened eye glistened. He was hurt, badly. But he was still dangerous.

“It’s morning,” said Chester. “There’s going to be people around soon.”

“Nobody else is getting hurt because of me,” said Scarlet. Her palm was throbbing and still bleeding slightly.

Sorrow was still airborne, swooping like a majestic eagle—except this bird of prey was wearing her dad’s ripped work trousers. He dove down to attack The Saint again, but this time the giant caught him. Sorrow’s wings flapped angrily as he was dragged back down to earth, where he was at a disadvantage. The Saint kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying backwards like he was being pulled by hidden wires. He landed in the wet mud, face down, and before he had time to get up and launch back into the air, The Saint kicked him in the ribs. His wings closed in around him, forming a protective cocoon.

“You cower,” said The Saint. “Even in your true form.”

But Sorrow wasn’t cowering. He unfurled his wings at once, swatting The Saint into the air, then leaping up and snatching him before he came back down to earth. Like a rocket, he shot upwards, powerful wings stroking the air like the oars of a boat. He kept going, The Saint in his arms, gliding ever higher until he was a dark shape against the half-lit sky. The moon still hung around faintly, attempting to defy the sun that had now risen over the lake.

“He’s going to drop him,” said her dad, clutching his ribs and panting. “No way he’ll survive.”

“It should kill him,” said Scarlet. “Sorrow just has to let go of him.”

They all waited for the large black shape to separate—for Sorrow to release his enemy to shatter against the ground—but it didn’t happen.

“What’s he doing?” Chester asked.

Scarlet shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Shit,” her dad said. “They’re both falling.”

Scarlet saw that he was right. The black shape in the sky was growing bigger, getting closer. Sorrow and The Saint were plummeting to earth together. “Why didn’t he let go?”

“Get down,” Chester shouted, pulling Scarlet and her dad down the bank. Scarlet stumbled and fell onto her hands and knees, narrowly missing a broken beer bottle someone had tossed into the grass.

There was an almighty crash as the two warriors hit the ground so hard that the cement pathway split apart. The fissure kept growing, like the earth opening up in a disaster movie. Birds on the water took flight, honking and quacking in disapproval.

Then silence.

Everybody stayed completely still, waiting for the aftershocks to settle.

One of the two warriors began to rise. From behind—and with so much dust in the air—it was hard to tell who, but when the figure stretched up to a massive height, Scarlet knew that it was The Saint. His blond hair hung in his face, and he didn’t seem sure where he was. Sorrow lay on the ground behind him, half-buried in the pavement—not moving. His wings were gone. Whatever effect her blood had was over.

Chester and her dad sprinted up the bank and grabbed The Saint, but he smashed their skulls together and tossed them aside like children. He might have been injured, but he was still unbelievably strong.

And his route to Scarlet was now clear.

She lifted her hand and looked at the jagged wound on her palm. It was sticky, but already healing. There was no more blood she could use.

Unless…

The Saint came at her fast. Scarlet glanced down at the broken bottle in the grass. She snatched it up and looked at the jagged shard in horror.

This was going to hurt.

She dragged the sharp piece of glass over her wounded palm and squealed. The blood came immediately.

And so did The Saint.

He snatched Scarlet up off the ground. This time he wasted no time talking. He twisted her wrist and snapped her forearm in two. The scream that escaped her throat was so thick that it felt like she was regurgitating her stomach.

The Saint grinned at the sight of her pain. “Your birth was an abomination.”

Scarlet clenched her fist and forced herself to stop screaming. “So’s your breath.”

She pulled up her other arm and shoved her blood-soaked palm into the Saint’s face, digging in her nails and clamping down over his mouth. She squeezed as hard as she could, trying to push out more blood from her wound. The Saint fought to escape her grip, but found himself suddenly weak—and she was suddenly strong. Spinning around, she manhandled him as though he weighed nothing, eventually positioning him at the top of the embankment.

He glared at her with his one good eye. “You will bring darkness to this world, child.”

“No,” she said. “Only to you.” She brought her leg up and kicked The Saint in the guts, sending him rolling and cartwheeling down the bank. He fell so hard that he ended up in the lake. “Enjoy your swim.”

He dragged himself over to the bank and slumped forwards in the mud, legs still in the water. “Evil flows through your blood.”

Scarlet felt what he was saying was true. Something did indeed course through her body, and it made her feel strong, powerful—it was unnatural. “What’s happening to me?” she demanded.

Still clutching at the mud, The Saint sneered. “Your powers are awakening early. That meddling shaman shortened your life, but magic still lives in you. Your blood is tainted.”

“She said I wasn’t The Spark anymore.”

“But you are still an abomination. Magic corrupts and kills.”

“In that case,” Scarlet held out her palm, blood dripping down and forming a pool at her feet, “it’s time I put it to good use.”

She gritted her teeth and thought about what she wanted. She wanted The Saint gone, buried forever someplace where no one would ever find him. She almost went to pray, but then remembered whose side he was on. So instead of asking for The Father’s help, she demanded what she wanted from no one but herself. She demanded that the world do as she commanded.

And it did.

First, the ground began to shake. Then the water began to boil.

The Saint looked afraid, his threat diminishing by the second. He was no longer an unstoppable giant, an unstoppable assassin; he was a frightened child far from home. He was in her house now.

The water began shifting, and waves formed. The lake rose up at its edges, but grew shallower in its centre, as though an invisible hand were pushing down on it.

Then the lake began to part—waters shifting left and right, and revealing the sloppy mud that made up its bed.

Scarlet squeezed her hand into a fist, causing more blood to drip down her arm and onto the ground. “Be gone!” she bellowed in a voice that seemed to have the force of nature behind it.

The lake rose up around The Saint, while the ground began to swirl at his feet.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, as terrified as he was defiant.

“Showing you the same amount of mercy that you showed my friend.”

The muddy lake-bed split open and The Saint fell backwards. First his legs disappeared up to the knees, but he continued sinking rapidly. Eventually, the mud started to swirl around him and pulled him down to his neck. The terror in The Saint’s eyes was the only part of him that was human. His pleas for mercy went unheard; Scarlet was deaf to his cries.

The waters came crashing down on his head, and he was gone. The lake went still, and the geese returned to its surface.

Scarlet lowered her trembling hand, unable to believe what had just happened. The lake had returned to normal and there was no evidence that it had ever been different. Good thing, too, for a jogger had appeared on the far side of the lake. The fitness fanatic would soon be joined by dozens more, as well as mums with strollers and pensioners feeding the ducks.

Scarlet began to wobble. Her broken arm flared with renewed agony, and she suddenly felt like a sixteen year old girl again. Her dad caught her just in time to stop her collapsing to the floor. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he said. “It’s over. You did it.”

Flopped in his arms, she closed her eyes. “No, it’s not over. It won’t be over until I’m dead.”

“That’s not happening, Scarlet. You hear me?”

“Not for another few months at least,” she muttered.

Chester arrived, staggering down the bank towards them. “You did it, Scarlet. The Saint has been banished.”

“I don’t know what happened,” she said. “I… I just wanted it to happen, and it did. I feel sick.”

Chester’s relief turned to concern. “Your powers have started to awaken. Your desperation—seeing the people you care about being hurt and fearing your own death—brought everything forth in a sudden gush. Think of your powers like adrenaline. We all get stronger when we’re fighting for our lives—it’s a natural response, and it’s no different with you, Scarlet; your adrenaline just happens to be a little more supernatural.”

“I want it out,” she said. “I want the magic out of my blood.”

“There’s no way, Scarlet. I’m sorry, but it’s part of you—as much as the colour of your hair and the length of your fingers.”

Her dad gripped her tightly in his arms and pulled her closer. “Is my daughter still going to die?”

Chester nodded solemnly. “Yes, unless you and I can do something about it.”

“I intend to.”

Scarlet stopped listening to their conversation. She couldn’t think about her impending death right now. Death would not find her today, and that was enough for now. What concerned her now was that everyone was okay. There had been one more person trying to protect her.

Sorrow still lay face-down on the path, embedded in the concrete. The Saint had been unkillable before Chester had performed his spell, but was Sorrow immortal too? Margaret had said so, but the jagged scars across his back where wings once sprouted suggested he was not invulnerable.

Scarlet slipped free of her dad’s arms and went over to where her demon bodyguard lay. Kneeling down, she placed her hand on his back. He was cold, but he had always been that way. He was demon, not human, but he was also her friend—just like Indy had been. Nothing had been too frightening to stop him from protecting her. He had been willing to die, if necessary, to keep her safe. Perhaps that made it okay that he was lying in front of her now. She was alive, thanks to him, and without him placing his body on the line, The Saint would have killed her days ago.

“Please don’t be dead, Sorrow,” she said. “You’re the only part of all this that isn’t dreadful. Plus, dad thinks you’re my boyfriend, which is really funny. Kissing you was pretty amazing though, huh? Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you were my boyfriend, but right now, I’d settle for a friend. I need you to be alive, Sorrow.”

She sensed her dad and Chester standing behind her, but she did not turn around. She held back her tears, because once they came, they would not stop, and she didn’t want anybody’s pity.

Sorrow needed to be alive for her.

God, let me have just one thing for myself, one thing that I actually want; instead of life thrusting things upon me whether I like it or not.

“Wake up, damn it! Sorrow, you wake up right now.” She wiped the blood from her palm over his shoulder wounds again, but this time nothing happened. Sorrow remained still.

“People are coming,” Chester said. “There’s a jogger coming our way. We need to get his body out of here before someone sees it.”

“How?” asked her dad. “He probably weighs a ton.”

“Most likely. It’s strange, but all the lore that the White Order possesses suggests that when a demon dies on earth, its body disappears back to its original realm.”

“So why is his body still here?”

“Scarlet?” the voice was weak. “Are you hurt?”

Scarlet leapt forwards, hugging Sorrow’s body against her own. “Sorrow, you’re alive.”

“I do not know. Am I?”

“Yes, yes, you are. Can you get up?”

“I would rather remain here.”

Scarlet laughed. “Well, you can’t. We have to leave.”

“The Saint?”

“He’s gone. We dealt with him. I’m safe.”

Sorrow put his palms against the ground and began to push up. He trembled with the exertion, but gradually began to rise up. Misery cloaked his face, and his eyes were swollen.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

“I will heal. You are bleeding.”

Scarlet looked at her arm, coated in blood from her palm. “Yeah, I think I should go see a doctor and get stitches.”

“There shouldn’t be need,” said Chester. “Now that your powers have awoken, you should heal fast.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she said. “I feel like I could sleep for a week and still feel tired.”

“Scarlet, if you were a normal girl, you wouldn’t be able to stand up after what you’ve been through. You’ll be okay within a few days, I assure you.”

“There’s that word again,” she said. “Normal. I would give anything to be normal.”

Her dad pulled her in for a hug. “You’re anything but, Scarlet, and that’s no bad thing. You’re my baby girl, and I’m proud of you. Right now, we need to go somewhere where we can lick our wounds in peace.”

“Yes,” said Sorrow, who was eyeing up a nearby group of geese suspiciously. “We are not safe here.”

Scarlet hadn’t noticed until then, but both her dad and Chester were covered in blood and bruises. They both sported matching lumps on their foreheads where The Saint cracked their skulls together, and each clutched at his ribs and winced with every breath.

“I need to go see what state my shop is in,” said Chester, “and see if that miserable old vulture, Margaret, has managed to live through all this.”

Scarlet glanced at Sorrow, who was almost on his feet now, although topless and bloody. Together, they resembled some kind of homeless street gang. Strangers in the distance grew closer, strolling along the path in both directions. “How on earth do we get back without anyone calling the police on us?”

“I suggest,” said Chester. “That we use haste. Sooner we get back and put the kettle on, the better.”

“Amen to that,” said her dad.

Scarlet shook her head. “Not what a demon-blooded girl wants to hear, dad.”

“Yeah, okay. Then let’s just thank the stars.”

“Thank you, stars,” said Sorrow, before picking up a stone and tossing it at a goose. “Can we go now, please?”

Scarlet chuckled. “I always wanted a bigger family, never thought it would be this one.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Chester. “Especially now.”

~ Chapter Eighteen ~

They hadn’t been able to avoid all attention on their stumbling journey back into town, but they kept their heads down and carried on as quickly as their limping gaits would allow. When they saw police coming out of Little Treasures Emporium, they hid inside an alleyway next to the bank, but once the cops left, Chester ushered them all inside.

“Who dealt with the police?” her dad mused, looking around at the ransacked interior of the shop that looked even worse than when they left it.

“I dealt with them,” said Margaret, staggering out from the backroom. “To be more precise, a well-placed telephone call to The Council dealt with them. They are going to list the disturbance as a burglary. Won’t be the first time the police in this town have turned a blind eye.”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet asked.

“Don’t you know? Redlake is positioned on top of a seal.”

“A seal? You mean like the swimming-dog thingies?”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t mean an aquatic seal. I mean a seal between the earth and the other places. The people in this town have a tolerance for the unusual that most places do not. The Council has contacts on the local police force and in the church. In fact, we were called in six months ago to investigate the death of twelve members of the local choir through supernatural means, but that’s a story better left untold. Needless to say, this town has a penchant for the strange.”

Scarlet’s dad sighed. “No wonder I got such a good price on the house.”

Holtby came out of the back to join them. He had a great big smile on his face—despite the fact his nose was obviously broken. “You folks didn’t die? How lovely. I take it the big blond fella is gone?”

Chester nodded. “Buried beneath the lake, and I don’t expect we’ll see him anytime soon.”

“Good,” said Margaret. “It pains me to speak ill of a fallen ally, but The Saint took things too far. He needed to be dealt with.”

Scarlet’s dad headed across the room in the direction of Margaret. He did so quickly enough that Holtby didn’t manage to get between them this time—from the look of him, the custodian wasn’t working at his full capacity.

Margaret reeled backwards as he punched her square on the nose, adding fresh blood to that caused by Scarlet earlier. She slumped against the counter—her spectacles crooked—and held her face in her hand. “What? What the…? Who the hell do you…?”

“You did a spell to kill my daughter. You have ten seconds to reverse it.”

“I… I can’t.”

“Then I’ll kill you.”

“As will I,” said Sorrow, moving up beside him. It was strange for Scarlet, seeing the two men side by side and cooperating.

“No, Mr Thomas, I cannot reverse the spell because there is nothing to reverse. I drained her life force. It is gone. There’s no way to bring it back.”

“You placed it in that receptacle.”

“No, sir. I placed The Spark inside. Your daughter’s life force evaporated in doing so. I’m sorry. Even if I could reverse the spell, I’m not sure I would, but I truly cannot.”

He went bright red. The weakness he’d displayed since leaving the lake went away, and he snarled like a rabid wolf. Holtby finally stepped in and put his hand on his chest. “Okay, fella. I let you get one shot in because you probably deserve it, but I can’t let you beat on the boss no more.”

“How can you protect this monster?” he demanded.

“Because she does more good than bad. You might not believe it, mister, but this has all been about doing the right thing.”

Margaret gathered herself and wiped away her nose-blood with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr Thomas. You may hate me—I don’t blame you—but your daughter was going to destroy the world. My job was to stop her. It was never personal.”

“Like hell it isn’t personal. I will hunt your people down. You and your entire Council.”

“Then you’ll die, trust me,” said Holtby. “They sent me because I’m nice. You don’t want to meet my less-patient colleagues.”

“He will have me by his side,” said Sorrow, glaring at Holtby and looking like he would attack at any moment.

“Dad, Sorrow, stop it.”

He turned to face her. “We have to do something, Scarlet.”

“Maybe, but not right now. I don’t have the energy. I’m just glad I’m no longer The Spark. Leave them be.”

With a grunt, and a lingering sneer at Margaret, he backed away. Both Margaret and Holtby relaxed their postures.

“I’ll go and put the kettle on,” said Chester, disappearing into the back.

“Go and help him, dad. I want to talk to Margaret alone.”

“Not going to happen. I’m not-”

“Dad! Any damage she can do is already done. Leave us alone for a moment, will you? I’ll be right there when I’m finished.”

He went to argue, but the look on her face must have told him not to try, so he sighed, nodded, and retired to the back to help Chester.

Scarlet stepped towards Margaret who put her hands up. “Look, if you want to have a pop at me as well, go right ahead, but it will achieve nothing.”

“I don’t want to have a pop at you. I want to ask you for a favour. I figure it’s the least you can do for me.”

Margaret seemed confused, but let her guard drop a little. “What favour?”

“Make my dad forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Everything. If I only have a year, or less, I don’t want to spend it watching him drive himself insane trying to save me. I just want things to go back to how they were, for as long as I have left. It will be better for him, too. He’ll at least get to have a few more happy memories of me.”

Holtby crossed his arms and examined her closely, both eyes wide and jittery. “It’s gonna be pretty lonely, carrying a death sentence around on your own.”

“I won’t be alone,” she said. Sorrow had moved to the corner of the shop and was examining an antique Mickey Mouse stapler like it was the most interesting thing on earth. This whole time, he still had not managed to find a pair of shoes. It made her smile. “I have him.” She turned back to Margaret. “Can you do it?”

Margaret nodded. “If you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Then I just need an hour to prepare.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Margaret nodded with a slight grin on her face. Before she went off, she gave Scarlet one last lingering look.

“What is it?” asked Scarlet.

“Nothing. I’m just truly sorry that you won’t live to reach my age. You’re a brave girl.”

Scarlet didn’t reply. She had nothing to say to the woman. Instead, she went over to Sorrow and led him towards the backroom. “Let’s go have a cup of tea,” she said. “Everything will hurt a little less afterwards.”

“I do not enjoy pain,” he said.

“Who does?”

“No, I mean, before, pain was just something that I endured, but now it is… harder to bear. It makes me feel strange, like I have something building behind my eyes.”

She looked at him. “Sorrow, you’re crying.”

“Impossible. Demons do not cry.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say, you’re weeping like a little boy with the measles.”

“What is measles?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you can’t cry, then why are you?”

“Because the pain hurts. Hurts too much. I feel weak.”

“Sorrow, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It started when my wings came back.”

“When my blood touched you?”

“Yes. It made me feel strange. Powerful at first, but then, when my wings went away, I was left feeling weak, and… sad. But happy also, when I saw that you were alive and that The Saint was gone.”

“You’re human,” she said.

“No, I am not, but I think I am more human than I was. Your blood is in me.”

“That’s gross.”

“I am sorry that it is gross.”

“No, no, that’s okay. Are you going to be okay?”

He reached to his neck and clasped the pendant she had given him. It seemed to be some kind of comfort blanket to him now. “I do not know,” he said. “Perhaps Mr Chester will help me find answers to my questions. My nature is evil, but how much control do I have over my own destiny?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But if you ask me, destiny is just The Father’s way of trying to control us. I say, don’t let him.”

Sorrow smiled, more warmly than he ever had before. “I should like to have a cup of tea. It would be most human, yes?”

She chuckled. “Yep, and quite a lot British.”

“But I am yours also,” he said. “For as long as I am here.”

She clasped his hand and pulled him along. “Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts. Life is short.”

Sorrow nodded. “Yet long enough to make living worthwhile.”

“Or dying,” she said. “Sometimes dying is worthwhile too.”

“You are wise, Scarlet. My memory returns slowly, but I do not know why it ever deserted me. I seek answers, but I understand little. I feel lost in this world.”

“Then allow me to guide you.”

Before joining Chester and her dad, she pulled Sorrow in for a kiss. And there was a spark of magic.

~ Chapter Nineteen ~

Scarlet had become a woman since the last time she had seen her—a beautiful, brave one. A mother should have been proud, but it filled Nesta only with dread. Watching her now while she limped up the front path to her house with her father’s arm around her, it became clear that she had almost died this morning. The forces of Good had acted decisively, even though they were taken unawares by Scarlet’s premature awakening.

Nesta’s plan to catch the enemy napping had almost worked. The prophecies all spoke of The Spark emerging upon the vessel coming of age, but Nesta had managed to bend the rules slightly. In the United Kingdom, a child was able to leave home at 16—so in a way they came of age earlier than eighteen. Prophecies always had loopholes.

Then the White Order had got involved and ruined everything. Not only had they taken the Spark from her daughter, but they had taken most of her life too. Scarlet was destined to be queen of a new world, but they had reduced her to a footnote. She’d be dead within a year.

But Nesta would not allow that to happen. Nobody screwed around with her daughter.

Nesta slunk back into the bushes across the street, but struggled to take her eyes away from Scarlet. So beautiful. Even now, her posture was stiff and determined, even as her father brought her a cup of tea and a blanket. It was good to see that he was looking after her. She always knew he would, in his own way. He had been a good man, a worthy partner. Sometimes she missed him.

Sometimes she missed them both.

Nesta’s mission had come at the expense of her family. The path she had abandoned would have provided warmth and shelter, but she had vowed her life to another. The Oil would not abide competition. The only choice she had had was to leave. It was a relief that Scarlet seemed to have done just fine without her.

The way Scarlet had faced the dangers arrayed against her had impressed Nesta, and she was already beginning to use blood magic too. She had no idea the power inside of her, and once the White Order was dealt with, Scarlet would become the most powerful being on earth. Everything would change.

Nesta held her necklace in her hand and felt it pulse with power. She had taken it from her daughter’s bedroom moments before The Saint had broken in. It felt wrong stealing from Scarlet, but the necklace was too important to let fall into the wrong hands. The necklace was more important than anybody realised. With it, Nesta could fix all of the damage that had been done by meddling pests. She could restore her daughter’s lifeforce and give her back the Spark. The plan could still go as intended. Nothing had to change.

The first thing Nesta was going to do was deal with the White Order.

And then anybody else who got in her way.

The world was going to end, and be reborn. Nothing was going to prevent that.

And Scarlet was the key to it all.

END

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Hey, Reader. So you got to the end of my book. I hope that means you enjoyed it. Whether or not you did, I would just like to thank you for giving me your valuable time to try and entertain you. I am truly blessed to have such a fulfilling job, but I only have that job because of people like you; people kind enough to give my books a chance and spend their hard-earned money buying them.  For that I am eternally grateful.

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Iain Rob Wright is one of the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.

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Copyright

* * *AN SG HORROR RELEASE* * *

Part of the SALGAD PUBLISHING GROUP

Redditch

UK, Worcestershire
www.SALGADPUBLISHING.com

Copyright © 2015 by Iain Rob Wright
www.IAINROBWRIGHT.com

Cover Art Copyright 2015 Stuart Bache
www.Stuartbache.co.uk

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOOK SUMMARY

~ Chapter One ~

~ Chapter Two ~

~ Chapter Three ~

~ Chapter Four ~

~ Chapter Five ~

~ Chapter Six~

~ Chapter Seven ~

~ Chapter Eight ~

~ Chapter Nine ~

~ Chapter Ten ~

~ Chapter Eleven ~

~ Chapter Twelve ~

~ Chapter Thirteen ~

~ Chapter Fourteen ~

~ Chapter Fifteen ~

~ Chapter Sixteen ~

~ Chapter Seventeen ~

~ Chapter Eighteen ~

~ Chapter Nineteen ~

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