Prologue
SHE HEARD THEM before she saw them. The mob. They shrieked and screamed and yelled. As she stepped onto the street, Freya’s eyes went to them. Some held placards, some shook the metal gates that kept them out and others stood, fighting back tears.
Emotions threatened to spill over and Freya was worried it might get worse. But even so, that wouldn’t stop her. She had to see it for herself. Freya took a moment to take a deep breath before ploughing on ahead, flexing her fingers as she headed into the crowd.
An elbow whacked into her chest, a knee knocked her own and shoulders shoved her at every turn. She was fighting a violent tide and it took all of her restraint not to start hitting people back. They didn’t mean to hurt her of course. Their attention was focussed on what lay beyond the gate.
Past the metal bars and the high stonewalls were the hospital grounds. Patients were being guided out of the building and onto coaches so they could be taken home. Old people shuffled along the queue, shivering in their hospital slippers. Parents carried sick children in their arms, crying as they kissed them on their heads. Nurses crowded the entrance clinging onto their coats and bags. Close by, a handful of doctors stood in a rough circle in the middle of a heated argument. It was an unsettling sight as the hospital was emptied of people.
So it was true, she admitted to herself. The hospitals really were closing. People were going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Freya remembered the faces of those she had saved and those that she loved. How many would die because of this? Had all of her efforts been in vain?
Freya tried to keep her head, but someone appeared to be yanking it back. A hand grabbed onto her red-haired plait and was pulling at it like it was an old-fashioned doorbell. Freya snapped her head around in annoyance to find the culprit. There was accidental shoving then there was being deliberately irritating.
A young man was looking back at her, someone she knew well. He was long in the face with exceedingly sharp cheekbones and his dark eyes were glaring at her own blue ones. He was trapped behind a couple that had decided to link their arms in some sort of show of solidarity. The young man’s arm had reached awkwardly between their heads to reach Freya.
“Faris?” Freya shouted over the din of the noisy crowd. Freya barged her way back through the crowd, other people quickly filling the gap she left behind.
As soon as she was in reaching distance, Faris gripped onto her arm and pulled her away. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. He didn’t shout as she had, speaking only loud enough for her to hear.
“I had to see it, Faris, how could I not?” Her voice came out hollow, as if admitting defeat. “This … this will change everything.”
Faris took her a street away where a limousine waited for him with its engine running. He opened one of the doors and gestured for her to get in.
“It’s okay.” Freya held up a hand. “I can make my own way home.”
Faris glared at her in his usual we need to talk way. Freya submitted and climbed inside with Faris following behind her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said as he slammed the door shut. “The police are going to arrive any minute and you can’t be here when they do.”
“Why not?” asked Freya innocently. As far as she knew she hadn’t committed any crimes, not lately, anyway.
Faris stretched his fingers and grasped his knees, his knuckles turning white. He tilted his head to the floor and his black hair covered his eyes. “Because you’ve gotten stupid these last few weeks. Because you think you might be able to make up for all of this by saving a few lives and killing the odd vampire.” He flicked the hair from his face and twisted to face her. His hand hit his knee as he made each point. “Because you’ve been reckless and they’ve finally noticed you. Once you started targeting rogue mages, you stepped on their turf and they don’t appreciate it. They’re after you, Freya.”
Freya offered him a cold laugh in return. She leant back in her seat and stared out of the window. Coaches drove past them with dried egg and fruit pulp dripping down their sides. Though the people on board weren’t to blame they had been targeted anyway. Give ammo to an angry mob and they’re going to want to fire it.
“What else can I do?” asked Freya. “I’m not good for anything else.”
“You can take a break for starters,” Faris suggested. “The Battle of the Thames was barely a year ago and you’ve not given yourself a moment to recover. Have a holiday, catch up with old friends, anything that doesn’t involve hunting demons or leaving bleeding monsters on the police’s welcome mat!” His voice had risen to a point of desperation. He stopped himself and took a breath to keep calm.
“Look,” he said. “If you keep fighting demons and being the vigilante, they’re going to find out who you are and then they’re going to find out what you are. And in a country under so much stress do you really think they’re going to treat you well?” Faris sighed and offered her a sympathetic look. “It’s not just you, either. We all have to make changes.”
“I just have to be smarter,” said Freya. She was clutching at straws and she knew it. “I just have to stay out of the police’s way.”
“This isn’t the old days when it was whistles and batons.” Faris’ anger flared up again.
Despite herself Freya almost laughed at that. At the age of seventeen he wasn’t referring to himself.
“The police aren’t what they used to be, they’re recruiting wolves and vampires now. And did you hear about the riots?”
“What riots?”
“The ones in Birmingham,” said Faris, with a cynical smirk. “They used a very special kind of mage, a girl that can actually change your emotions. Then they used another to amplify her. A whole mob was ready to go and she just ... calmed them. It’s fascinating, really, the skill involved in co-ordinating such a thing.”
“What’s your point?” Freya cut in.
Faris snapped his head back around his expression turning serious again. “The police aren’t what they used to be. They’ve gotten close to you already and it was only through my intervention that you were able to slip away. If it happens again I won’t be able to rescue you. Then whose life will you be saving?”
Freya was frozen in her seat. Faris was right and that meant for once in her life she didn’t know how to move forward, she had no plan. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“We take you home.” Faris leant forward and tapped on the darkened glass between them and the driver.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“I know you didn’t.”
Emotions threatened to spill over and Freya was worried it might get worse. But even so, that wouldn’t stop her. She had to see it for herself. Freya took a moment to take a deep breath before ploughing on ahead, flexing her fingers as she headed into the crowd.
An elbow whacked into her chest, a knee knocked her own and shoulders shoved her at every turn. She was fighting a violent tide and it took all of her restraint not to start hitting people back. They didn’t mean to hurt her of course. Their attention was focussed on what lay beyond the gate.
Past the metal bars and the high stonewalls were the hospital grounds. Patients were being guided out of the building and onto coaches so they could be taken home. Old people shuffled along the queue, shivering in their hospital slippers. Parents carried sick children in their arms, crying as they kissed them on their heads. Nurses crowded the entrance clinging onto their coats and bags. Close by, a handful of doctors stood in a rough circle in the middle of a heated argument. It was an unsettling sight as the hospital was emptied of people.
So it was true, she admitted to herself. The hospitals really were closing. People were going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Freya remembered the faces of those she had saved and those that she loved. How many would die because of this? Had all of her efforts been in vain?
Freya tried to keep her head, but someone appeared to be yanking it back. A hand grabbed onto her red-haired plait and was pulling at it like it was an old-fashioned doorbell. Freya snapped her head around in annoyance to find the culprit. There was accidental shoving then there was being deliberately irritating.
A young man was looking back at her, someone she knew well. He was long in the face with exceedingly sharp cheekbones and his dark eyes were glaring at her own blue ones. He was trapped behind a couple that had decided to link their arms in some sort of show of solidarity. The young man’s arm had reached awkwardly between their heads to reach Freya.
“Faris?” Freya shouted over the din of the noisy crowd. Freya barged her way back through the crowd, other people quickly filling the gap she left behind.
As soon as she was in reaching distance, Faris gripped onto her arm and pulled her away. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. He didn’t shout as she had, speaking only loud enough for her to hear.
“I had to see it, Faris, how could I not?” Her voice came out hollow, as if admitting defeat. “This … this will change everything.”
Faris took her a street away where a limousine waited for him with its engine running. He opened one of the doors and gestured for her to get in.
“It’s okay.” Freya held up a hand. “I can make my own way home.”
Faris glared at her in his usual we need to talk way. Freya submitted and climbed inside with Faris following behind her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said as he slammed the door shut. “The police are going to arrive any minute and you can’t be here when they do.”
“Why not?” asked Freya innocently. As far as she knew she hadn’t committed any crimes, not lately, anyway.
Faris stretched his fingers and grasped his knees, his knuckles turning white. He tilted his head to the floor and his black hair covered his eyes. “Because you’ve gotten stupid these last few weeks. Because you think you might be able to make up for all of this by saving a few lives and killing the odd vampire.” He flicked the hair from his face and twisted to face her. His hand hit his knee as he made each point. “Because you’ve been reckless and they’ve finally noticed you. Once you started targeting rogue mages, you stepped on their turf and they don’t appreciate it. They’re after you, Freya.”
Freya offered him a cold laugh in return. She leant back in her seat and stared out of the window. Coaches drove past them with dried egg and fruit pulp dripping down their sides. Though the people on board weren’t to blame they had been targeted anyway. Give ammo to an angry mob and they’re going to want to fire it.
“What else can I do?” asked Freya. “I’m not good for anything else.”
“You can take a break for starters,” Faris suggested. “The Battle of the Thames was barely a year ago and you’ve not given yourself a moment to recover. Have a holiday, catch up with old friends, anything that doesn’t involve hunting demons or leaving bleeding monsters on the police’s welcome mat!” His voice had risen to a point of desperation. He stopped himself and took a breath to keep calm.
“Look,” he said. “If you keep fighting demons and being the vigilante, they’re going to find out who you are and then they’re going to find out what you are. And in a country under so much stress do you really think they’re going to treat you well?” Faris sighed and offered her a sympathetic look. “It’s not just you, either. We all have to make changes.”
“I just have to be smarter,” said Freya. She was clutching at straws and she knew it. “I just have to stay out of the police’s way.”
“This isn’t the old days when it was whistles and batons.” Faris’ anger flared up again.
Despite herself Freya almost laughed at that. At the age of seventeen he wasn’t referring to himself.
“The police aren’t what they used to be, they’re recruiting wolves and vampires now. And did you hear about the riots?”
“What riots?”
“The ones in Birmingham,” said Faris, with a cynical smirk. “They used a very special kind of mage, a girl that can actually change your emotions. Then they used another to amplify her. A whole mob was ready to go and she just ... calmed them. It’s fascinating, really, the skill involved in co-ordinating such a thing.”
“What’s your point?” Freya cut in.
Faris snapped his head back around his expression turning serious again. “The police aren’t what they used to be. They’ve gotten close to you already and it was only through my intervention that you were able to slip away. If it happens again I won’t be able to rescue you. Then whose life will you be saving?”
Freya was frozen in her seat. Faris was right and that meant for once in her life she didn’t know how to move forward, she had no plan. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“We take you home.” Faris leant forward and tapped on the darkened glass between them and the driver.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“I know you didn’t.”
