The rest was a blur. The gargoyles had dragged her into a small chamber. She remembered the ceiling had been jagged with stalactites, which occasionally delivered cool, merciful drops of water onto her skin. 

They tied her down, and then one of them, feeling around the whole time with clammy hands and long claws, tore out her fingernails.

Ellini couldn't remember much about it, except that the whole experience – even though it had taken place in an underground cavern of black stone – had been shot through with colour. She remembered looking up at the ceiling and seeing rubies half-buried in the rock. She remembered shutting her eyes and seeing the pain explode like fireworks on the inside of her eyelids.

Now she was in another dark, low-ceilinged chamber – perhaps a cell, because she was sure something like a chain had clinked against her feet when she'd been thrown in here. She had no idea how long ago that was – or for how much of that time she'd been unconscious. She only knew that she preferred being awake to being asleep. At least, when she woke up, she could force herself not to think about it. When she went to sleep, it played itself out before her eyes, whether she liked it or not.

After a while, she became aware that someone was beside her, lighting a candle and muttering in a muted, cockney voice. It was so soothing that Ellini let it wash over her for a few moments before it occurred to her that she should be trying to recognize the words.

"No light," she said in Hindustani, without opening her eyes.

There was a sigh, but the candle stayed alight – she could see it blazing through her eyelids.

"Not another foreign one. Don't you speak no English at all? We are under Cambridge, y'know – or so they tell me."

Ellini screwed up her eyes against the candle-light and made an effort to get her thoughts in order. "No light," she said again – and it must have been English this time, because the candle was instantly blown out.

"Gotta get you used to the light, love," said the voice. "If you stay in 'ere more'n a day, and then go straight out to the flames in the work tunnels, you'll lose yer sight completely. But we'll take it slow fer now. Drink this."

Ellini's hands were too numb to feel much, but she thought the speaker was trying to wrap them around a cup or a beaker of some kind.

"Water," said the voice reassuringly. There was a pause, and then: "All right, some brandy. For the pain, you know? But mostly water. As I expect you can imagine, the brandy's in high demand down 'ere, so we ent got much."

Ellini tried to bring the cup up to her mouth, but her hands were shaking so much that she spilled most of it down herself. The stranger helped her hold it steady and take a sip.

"I'm Matthi," she said. "Short for Mathilde. My mother was from froggy parts."

"Et parlez-vous Francais?" said Ellini automatically.

"No, love. Just my mum. She got deported to the prison colonies 'fore she 'ad a chance to teach me. I always like 'earing it, though, even if I can't understand. Feels like it's just for me, you know? Like anyone 'oo talks French is talkin' to me without knowin' it."

Ellini peeled her eyes open, but without the candle-light, there was nothing to see. Just the occasional, semi-submerged glint in the rock-face.

"I saw you come in," said Mathilde, who didn't seem to require much in the way of responses. "What a shame, I thought – all that lovely dark 'air, and, in a few weeks, she'll be as blonde as any of us."

"I will?"

"The flames bleach it," she explained. "Dread to think what they're doin' to our lungs."

"I've always wanted to be blonde," said Ellini, who was starting to feel quite light-headed.

"Well, there you go, then. S'not all bad. And they say gentlemen prefer blondes – although we aint got too many gentlemen down 'ere, as you may well 'ave noticed." She gave Ellini a nudge. "Think you can 'andle a bit of light now, love?"

Ellini nodded, and then remembered it was pitch dark. "Yes," she said, although she closed her eyes instinctively.

There was a scratching sound, a flare of light, and then the sharp, sulphurous smell of a lit match.

This is where I discover that it's a trap, she thought, her eyes still tight shut. This is where I open my eyes and find that the only kind voice I've heard in a month belongs to one of the gargoyles – or some other monster they've walled up down here with me.

For a while, a bitter, masochistic part of her mind even looked forward to it. But, when there was no mad lunge for her throat, and no further words from Mathilde, she tentatively opened her eyes.

Her companion was a rosy, round-faced, full-figured woman with white-blonde hair. She was sat next to Ellini on the cavern floor, her knees drawn up to her chest.

"'Ave you got a fella?" she asked.

"No," said Ellini, a little faster than she'd intended.

"Well, that's good. The worst part is thinking that someone's gonna come down 'ere and rescue you. Don't matter that it's technically impossible, 'cause women are the only ones 'oo can even get in to the fire-mines. I tell that to my girls all the time, but it's always 'oh, you don't know George' or 'you don't know my Ned – he'll find a way'. And the longer it takes George and Ned to turn up, the more certain they are that 'e's on 'is way."

"Well, you needn't worry there," said Ellini. "I know nobody's coming to rescue me."

She was suddenly terrified that this would provoke more questions, so she added, "What happens down here? I mean, apart from – what just happened. This is a mine?"

Matthi grinned. "As it 'appens, we've got the best view in the place from that window."

She nodded to an opening in the cavern wall opposite them. It was emitting a kind of phosphorescent glow, so Ellini assumed there must be light beyond it, but she couldn't decide what kind of light. It seemed too steady and sickly to be fire.

Matthi suddenly gave her an appraising look. "Can you make it over there? Did they 'urt your legs?"

"No – just my hands." She held them up and then realized – like a shot to the stomach – that she was mutilated. For some reason, this thought dislodged the tears that she had been keeping so carefully walled-up since Lucknow.

And the worst of it was that she was crying about something that was so vain – about the way she looked. She hadn't shed a tear when she'd left Jack, or when the gargoyle's claw-like hands had been groping all over her – but the thought that she would never look the same, that she was physically ruined forever, pushed her over the edge. 

Much to her surprise, Matthi pulled her close and made soothing noises. "S'all right, love. It's all right. Look –" she untied the ribbons from her own hands and held them up. "See 'ow neat it heals?" The places where her nails should have been were just pink-white dimples on the tips of her fingers. "New-breed skin heals much better'n human skin, believe me. You won't even 'ave any scars in a few years."

She held up Ellini's chin, which gave her a warm, steadying feeling – not as though things were better, but as though the world had stopped churning for a while.

"The worst part's over," said Matthi softly. "What are they gonna do, take your nails again? That's what I said to Mary Finch, when she was in 'ere, crying about 'ow she'd been a virgin before they touched 'er, and she'd been robbed of 'er most precious jewel, or some such nonsense. 'Mary', I said, 'at least they can't take it again'."

Ellini gave a kind of hiccoughing laugh, still half-choked with tears.

"Come on," said Matthi, helping her to her feet. "You aint seen the pretty part. I'm not sayin' the pretty part makes up for it, but it'll give you an idea that you're not alone, at least."

She guided Ellini over to the little window and let her look out.

The cavern beneath them was immense. On one wall, a whole temple facade had been carved out of the rock – complete with statues of bald, winged creatures standing like sentinels on either side of the steps that led up to the grand entrance-way. Some of the gems that twinkled, half-submerged, in every rock face, had been left in place for their eyes.

Elsewhere in the vast cavern, she could see tunnel openings, lit by flames, in which shadowy figures moved at a frantic pace, apparently quarrying the stone.

"The gargoyles 'ad a great civilization once," Matthi explained. "In the days when they weren't two matches short of an inferno. They worshipped a Goddess of the earth--" she nodded at the great facade. "That's 'er temple down there. And, because their chief deity was a woman, female demons were their priestesses, their milit'ry leaders, everything. Even now, the feminine principle 'as a lot of power down 'ere. That's why they take women as slaves. I don't understand it really, but I think there are charms in place to ensure that only females can quarry the precious stones from the rock without causing a cave-in."

"What happened to the female gargoyles?" said Ellini. "Their priestesses and military leaders?"

"They sank into a coma when Eve died, dint they? Most demons did. They sleep underground, waiting for the day when she'll be resurrected. There's a whole chamber of sleeping female demons off'f one of the work tunnels. It's bloody creepy, I can tell you. Anyway, no-one knows why the male demons didn't fall asleep when Eve died."

"But part of them did," said Ellini suddenly. She was still half-dazed. She felt like a schoolgirl up past her bedtime, whispering secrets to her best friend. "That's why they're insane. Their minds are only half-there."

Matthi grinned triumphantly. "I wondered whether you was one of the readers."

"The what?"

"There are two kinds of girls 'oo end up down 'ere. The ones 'oo've just been taken for their strong arms and lack of protectors, and the ones 'oo've been reading too much."

Ellini nodded, still wide-eyed and excited. "Then you're a reader too? Did you read the Cardinal's essay? And The Last Vestiges of Darkness? Do you know how to resurrect Eve?"

Matthi laughed at her enthusiasm. "Don't matter what I know, love. I'm down 'ere where I can't do anything with it." She turned back to the window. "You've got to come down willingly if you're a reader. It's something to do with the charms that empower the feminine in this place. They get to the people you care about."

"Oh," said Ellini, and left it at that. Her chest was over-brimming with sympathy for this woman, but she didn't want to ask any questions, in case Matthi came back with questions of her own.

She turned back to the window, where the figures working in the tunnel openings were still outlined in that steady, sickly light. Was that the fire that bleached your hair blonde? It had a chilly, solid look for an inferno. It reminded her of the 'freezing fires' so frequently mentioned in Petrarchan sonnets to describe the feeling of unsatisfied love.

She thought of Jack, and the fact – half-buried under all the other horrific facts – that she missed him. Perhaps it was appropriate that she should be trapped in a Petrarchan sonnet for the rest of her life. A hell for lovers, where all their metaphors were literalized. 

Still, it was better than the other hell--the one where she was responsible for his death. She'd take anything over that. 

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