“Then we’ll find out,” Dervish says flatly. “But this is as good a starting point as any.”

I can’t shake the edgy feeling I’ve had since the restroom at the airport. This feels wrong. How did the Lambs know where we were? How did they know we’d be leaving, that they could hit us outside town? And why should Prae Athim kidnap Bill-E in such a dramatic fashion? She must have known Dervish would come after her. She was scared of the Disciples the last time we spoke. Why do something guaranteed to turn them against her now?

I discuss my fears with Dervish but he dismisses them. “Prae Athim always had a chip on her shoulder about the Disciples. The Lambs don’t like playing second fiddle to anyone. Maybe she sees this as their chance to test us. Or perhaps she figured we wouldn’t suspect the Lambs, that we’d blame Billy’s disappearance on the Demonata. If we hadn’t found the ring, we’d never have guessed the Lambs were involved. We were ready to face down the demons. Maybe she hoped they’d kill us.”

I remain unconvinced. That doesn’t explain how Prae Athim knew about the demons in Slawter. Or how she judged her moment so finely. Or why her people would leave us for the demons to kill, instead of murdering us themselves while we were helpless. This is more involved than it seems. There’s a conspiracy afoot. The Lambs in league with the Demonata? Maybe. If Lord Loss or one of his crew offered to give the Lambs the power to reverse lycanthropy, in exchange for a little help getting rid of the meddling Grubbs and Dervish Grady…

But that’s crazy. We were knocked out. At their mercy. If they’d been working with the demons, they’d have simply handed us over. We’d be dead now, not flying after them in hot pursuit.

Something’s wrong, but I can’t pin it down and it’s driving me mad.

The plane touches down. The two Disciples meet us in the arrivals hall of the airport. A man and woman. The man’s tanned, tall and bulky, with short grey hair, dressed in army fatigues. There are letters tattooed on his knuckles—SHARK—and a small picture of a shark’s head on the flesh between his thumbs and index fingers. No surprise when he tells us his name is Shark.

The woman is Indian, dressed in a colourful sari. Old. A kindly face. She walks slowly, with a pronounced limp. Hugs Dervish hard, kisses his forehead, then introduces herself to us as Sharmila Mukherji. She looks familiar, and I realise after racking my brains that Dervish and I watched a documentary about her a while ago.

“I never did like Prae Athim,” Shark barks. “I’m looking forward to cutting her down to size.”

“But we will have to be careful,” Sharmila warns. “The Lambs should not be underestimated. They might not be able to repel us with magic, but they are well versed in other forms of warfare.”

“Against us three?” Shark snorts. “They don’t stand a chance! It’s just a pity Kernel and Beranabus aren’t here—it’d be a proper reunion.”

Dervish, Sharmila and Shark smile at each other, while Juni and I share an uncertain look. Then the Disciples quickly discuss their plans and how to proceed. Before setting off, Dervish again gives Juni the option of pulling out.

“To be honest,” Juni says, “I’m not comfortable. I’d rather we focused on the problems in Slawter. But if this is where you think the battle is, I’m with you. I won’t quit now.”

“Fighting words,” Shark grins. “You’re my kind of gal!” He looks around the airport, sniffs, then nods towards the exit. “Let’s go round up some Lambs.”

A four-hour drive. Dervish, Shark and Sharmila discuss the past for the first hour. From what I gather, the three only fought together once before, many years ago, but kept in touch and are close friends. As we progress, talk turns to the present and tactics. Shark has seen the plans of the building and knows the layout of the laboratory, its weak points, where the greatest obstacles will be.

I fall asleep as Shark and Sharmila are discussing the plans, exhaustion catching up with me. I don’t dream.

When I wake, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Dry, arid land stretches out in all directions. A huge metal and glass building stands ahead of us, ringed by a security fence, dotted with armed guards, sporting a massive antenna on the roof. It reminds me of something. I think I’ve seen it before, but I can’t have. I’ve never been here.

The feeling that something’s wrong sneaks up on me again, but I ignore it and focus on the conversation.

“—electrified, but that won’t bother us,” Shark is saying. “Once inside the perimeter, we head left. There’s a small, disguised door that opens on to a corridor that cuts past a lot of the building— an emergency exit.”

“What about the guards?” Juni asks.

“We’ll fight them with magic,” Shark says. “I would have brought a few weapons along—fight fire with fire—but Dervish vetoed the idea.”

“I don’t want to harm anyone,” Dervish says quietly. “Most of the staff here are just ordinary people doing their job. They won’t know about the kidnapping or that we only want to rescue Billy. We mustn’t kill them. A person shouldn’t be killed just because they’re ignorant of the truth.”

“You’re too soft,” Shark grunts, then throws his door open and smacks his right fist hard into his left palm. “Let’s do it!”

We stand outside the electrified fence, in plain sight, watching as more guards gather. They cock their weapons, eyeing us critically.

“We’re here for Billy Spleen,” Dervish shouts. “Tell Prae Athim we know she took him. We’ll settle for his safe return. If she gives him back to us, or tells us where he is, we’ll leave without a fuss. We don’t have to go to war.”

A high-ranking guard speaks into his headpiece. Listens to the response. Nods and addresses us through an amplifier. “This is private property. If you try to come on to our grounds, we’ll use all available force to halt you.”

“War it is then,” Dervish sighs. He extends a hand and snaps his fingers at the fence. The wire splits and unfurls, leaving a gap wide enough to drive a bus through. The guards around it yelp with surprise and fall back a few metres. At a signal from Dervish we press ahead, marching but not running. The officer shouts a command. A group of guards raise their weapons and aim at us. Shark and Sharmila mutter a spell. The weapons melt and distort and the guards drop them, crying out that they’re too hot to hold.

Gunfire from our right. Much louder than in the movies. Terrifying. I yell and duck, covering my ears with my hands, expecting to be ripped apart by bullets. Juni ducks too. But the Disciples only pause, concentrating hard. After a few seconds I realise the bullets aren’t striking. Looking up, I see them dropping to the ground half a metre away. We’re surrounded by a magical energy shield which the bullets can’t penetrate.

“You could have told me about that!” I snap at Dervish as I stand.

“You’d have known if you’d stayed awake in the car,” he retorts.

We press on.

Shark finds the secret door and we slip inside. I’m delighted—the air was red with bullets around us, and I heard Sharmila grumble that she wasn’t sure the shield was going to hold much longer. Shark shuts the door once we’re all in and uses magic to seal it in place, so the troops will have to blast through to enter.

We hurry down a long, brightly lit corridor. As with the outside of the building, there’s something familiar about it. I’m sure I’ve seen it before. This is déjà vu of the highest order. It’s really starting to bug me.

Guards spill into the corridor as we come to the end. Shark roars as they fire upon him, then throws himself at them, scattering them like a bowling ball knocking apart a set of pins.

We slip through the gap and race down a staircase. Guards are firing at us from all directions but the shield holds. At the bottom of the staircase we wait for Shark to catch up. The volume of gunfire increases. “We could use some help,” Dervish grunts at me. He’s sweating.