The smell of wet blood and ash choked the air. It was warm too, not uncomfortably so, but definitely a bit balmy. The three of us sat on one of the pieces of rock that had once been a glorified fence, breathing heavily and sweat pouring from every pore. Just giving you a pleasant image there.

Sheira resembled Carrie. Blood, that was mainly originated from someone else, had practically been painted onto her, even in her hair which was now a delightful shade of crimson compared to its usual snowy blonde. A strong smell of iron occasionally wafted in my general direction.

Shadow, on the other hand, was pale and exhausted, like a man that had been up all night or had contracted some form of plague. Or possibly both. His clothes were torn, hair was damp with sweat and his fingernails were caked in dirt and god knows what else. His own shade was firmly attached to his feet and thankfully not pulling a Peter Pan.

I couldn't tell what condition I was in, and if I'm being honest I don't really want to know. I think mirrors would crack if I got within a hundred feet. There was also a strange scent coming from my general vicinity but I was resisting the urge to take a sniff test. I think that would actually polish me off.

"You came back," I said quietly. We'd been in silence for what seemed like forever at this point. A group of guards were shovelling up a handful of corpses to be taken to be identified.

Shadow grunted.

"You didn't leave us."

An arm twitched. The body was promptly hacked to pieces.

"Hmm."

"You punched me in the face," I said with just a twitch more energy.

Shadow laughed slightly. From my right, I heard Sheira chuckle too. "Yeah, I did, didn't I."

"But you came back and that's what counts," Sheira said.

"And you've got a left hook to make Muhammed Ali proud."

"Heh," he was a lot quieter than he had been two days ago. It was weird but better.

We sat in silence for a little bit more. "Why?" Sheira asked eventually. "Why did you come back?"

Shadow didn't answer for a solid ninety seconds or so, in fact, I was sure he wasn't going to answer at all when "Crash...convinced me. We made a deal, all three of us, and I can't back out on that. No matter how pissed off you guys make me."

Sheira and I exchanged a sideways look. I don't know about her, but my bullshit detector was going into overdrive. It had sirens wailing, red lights flashing, the whole shebang. Perhaps he was telling the truth or perhaps he just felt guilty about abandoning to a face a never-ending horde of the undead, I don't know. But what I do know is this.

He came back and in the end, that's all that matters.

It was certainly all that mattered to Lillian. When dawn came and we realised that everything that was undead had now gone through the old double-tap procedure, Lillian had been leaping around the blood-soaked town square cheering and laughing like a hyena. To be fair everyone else was getting in on the action too.

The only glaring fault was that Marx had gotten away but with our, and the kidnapped people's eye-witness accounts, they knew where his base was and how much petrol it would take to burn the whole thing to the ground. To hell with it if we never found out how Marx had been controlling the zombies, the residents of Truespear would and they'd make sure it never happened again.

That's what Lillian and Tulip told us as we rode along on the back of the truck to Port Alderman. "We'll rip it apart," Tulip said with renewed vigour. "Tear it to pieces and then burn it all and throw the ashes out to sea."

"Salt and burn the bodies before you bury them again," Shadow added.

To that Lillian had nodded, "that goes without saying."

I had no idea why salt had such a weird effect on dead things but hey, anything to keep the ghosties at bay. The island might have issues growing anything again but that struck me as the lesser of two evils. Which would you rather have, salty crops or a new plague of the undead crying out for your brains? Yeah, me too.

Still, it was nice to taste the fresh air of seawater as the three of us sat on the deck of this tiny fishing boat that looked like it was one drop of rain away from turning into driftwood. I'd been assured by Sheira, Shadow, Lillian, Tulip, the captain of the said vessel and every beast with the capability of speech that it was perfectly safe, but I wasn't taking chances.

"You look like the Michelin man," Sheira said, smirking at my get up. Okay, maybe the life jacket, two lifeguard rope things, a life ring and a sheet of yellow tarpaulin was a bit too much but I wasn't taking any chances. I'd had a fear of boats ever since Disneyland in 2008 when I nearly got eaten by a crocodile. And that was before the fire-heart came into it!

Ah, happy days.

The furthest Captain Alston could take us was o a small port town just outside of Galloway Forest Park called Gunndale. Captain Alston was one of those people who just looked like he'd fallen straight out of the pages of The Pirates of the Caribbean script. He had tanned, weather-beaten skin, oily black hair and messy beard and I kid you not, an actual glass eye that would occasionally creepily roll into the back of his head. His beast was a similarly shabby sealion by the name of Krill who would occasionally dissolve into sea foam with no warning, scaring the crap out of anyone who hadn't seen it before.

After an incredibly rocky and nauseating six hours (I'd thrown up twice, Sheira once, and Shadow was holding it in. Just) we finally docked in Gunndale. By this point, the afternoon sun was slowly beginning to sink towards the snowcapped mountains in the distance and we needed to make some more headway.

Edinburgh was on the other side of the country and according to Google, that placed us at around twenty-four hours away, without breaks. Shadow was all for making the journey in one chunk. Sheria and I threatened to kill him if he tried. With all that in mind a two-day hike across rivers, forests and mountains didn't seem so bad when you looked at it from the right angle.

We were in Scotland. After six blood-soaked and pain-filled days, we were in Scotland. A day away from seeing Mum, Maxie, Lilah, a day away from rescuing them, from seeing their faces again. Yeah, we had one day before the Harpy came breathing down our necks but it's like Shadow said, they needed to prepare, we may have more time than we think. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but nonetheless, we were in the land of haggis and that's all that mattered.

And we had a plan, that always helps.

You see dotted across the country were these caches. Stockpiles of weapons, tools, rations and most importantly, cars. If we got our hands on one of those we could shave the travel time down to about an hour. Shadow knew of a cache that was only two hours away and I could get any engine up and running in about half an hour. We could be there and ready for tomorrow morning.

"Providing no one see's us."

Thank you for that Sheira.

"Other than that it's completely foolproof," she added quickly seeing my expression change.

"Lucky for us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I yelled to our navigator.

Shadow didn't answer but I knew he was smirking. It was nice having him back. He was still a miserable sod, but he was our miserable sod and it pains me to say this, I missed the big brute. Ugh.

He slowed down to check his compass again and ambled down a slight incline into the valley below, Sheira and I following close behind. The image of Truespear Hollow, and the island of Anglesea for that matter, being able to sleep safely tonight had spurred all of us on with renewed energy and for once, no one was complaining about the journey.

Yes, including me, I swear I'm not that bad.

We'd done well. Better than well, we'd done helped people. Or most of them at least...

"Hey, Shadow?" I said tentatively.

"Hm?"

"How well did you know Marx?"

With that single sentence, he recoiled back into his loaded spring form. Tight and ready to lash out. "He came in just before I left," he said stiffly, "You don't really have an overwhelming desire to interact with a murderous six-year-old. I barely knew him. I talked to him of course, he was in Molly's inner circle, after all, but even he was too much for me. And that's saying something."

"He was only six when he started?" I gasped. "I could barely tie my own shoes when I was that age."

"Really?" Sheira raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up, I was a late bloomer."

"Don't think he was innocent when he joined. Most of Molly's "warriors" were picked out by hand for their psychopathic and murderous bloodlust back then rather than being OD'd on her magic medicine. I don't know exactly how he was selected but a few months beforehand there'd been a rather nasty double murder down in Lincoln."

"I remember that," Sheira piped up. "Holden and Leilani Bush. Human as a human can get. Killed in their homes with a sharp bladed weapon, but there was no sign of forced entry. Taken completely by surprise and the killer was never found. It was really weird because I remember a big investigation into a children's home because their foster kid hadn't been...oh."

Well that's just a lovely realisation to brighten up our afternoon, isn't it?

"My guess is that was him. Marx isn't his real name anyway so there's no way to find out unless we rip his memories from his head."

"We can do that?" I asked.

"Yeah...yeah we can."

His tone was strange. Was that sorrow, or regret I could hear? I quickly changed the subject. "What's up with his beast?"

His demeanour changed just like that once again. His head hung forward, a frown on his face instead of a scowl. "You mean Black Magic?"

So that's what its name was.

"Yeah, he helped us get away from Marx's lair. He attacked Marx. I've never seen a beast do that. I didn't know they could..."

"They cant usually, but Black Magic had been...altered shall we say. Tell you what, guess which one was the original creature, the one who came to that little monster in the first place."

"The crocodile?" I guessed. It was the head after all. It had to be the original. It had to be.

"Nope."

There's a reason why I don't gamble.

"The snake?" Sheira said in disbelief. It seems we had the same thought on the matter.

"Yep. Marx took one look at her and decided he didn't want her, all because she was female."

"It's a girl?" I said hoarsely.

"Technically, yes. I always referred to her as a female because that's what the original brain identifies as but its also the reason why he destroyed his own beast. Marx couldn't stand that little fact, so what did he do? He cut off half her brain, sliced her in two and sewed her onto that crocodile."

"That's vile," Sheira said in disgust.

"That croc wasn't even one of our beasts, it was just a regular animal. Not a sliver of elemental energy in its blood. Nothing. So Black Magic has to share her body with the savage and wild monster. A male too, that's why she sounds like there are two voices talking at the same time. Its because there are two consciousnesses sharing that same space. That's enough to drive anyone mad with hatred."

I trailed my hand against the slightly raised scars that had once pulsed with venom."She bit me. The first time we met she bit me and nearly killed me."

"In front of Molly," Sheira murmured, placing her hand on top of mine. Something I'd noticed was her hands were always cold.

"She can't act up in front of her, she'll be tortured for it. She's the only one I feel sorry for," he added. He kicked a pebble down the hill with too much effort for it to be casual. "A Beast like her doesn't deserve to be treated like that. To be pulled apart and stitched back together like some cloth doll all for the amusement of someone she's supposed to trust. No one deserves that."

There was a lengthy pause. "She's going to be punished for helping us," Sheria said.

"Without a doubt."

After that we went without speaking for another half an hour, all of us lost in our own thoughts.

This world was amazing. I know that a week ago, but now? Now I could see why people said that. There was so much life and wonder and power that I couldn't have dreamed up in a million years. There was a new history to learn and a new future that I, a stupid London kid that once landed himself in A&E for putting a safety pin into a plug socket, could be part of.

But there was also darkness. Horror and pain seemed as entwined into the fabric of the world as hope and light. This stuff still happened in the normal world, the world that everyone could see, but my world appeared to hold a magnifying glass up to those problems and the result was horrifying.

Was this worth it? That was the thought that had been in my head for a week. Dad had been killed for this world by simply fighting back against something wrong. Mum had been punished for trying to hide in the aftermath and the kids were getting the brunt of it as well. Sheira talked about murder like it was normal and Shadow had bared witness to torture and killings to the point he barely batted an eye to it.

Was this what was waiting for me? I know after a while that people get desensitized to violence because they have to. When we first moved onto Sears the sight of druggies and dead bodies lying motionless by the dustbins, or gangs walking around with carving knives in their hands or seeing pools of blood dried up in doorways or in the same spot someone had jumped to their deaths was jarring for the first few months.

And then it wasn't. Then it became normal, familiar, almost natural. You just adapt to that new environment. Don't go out after dark, don't look anyone straight in the eye, always be ready to run. After a year you just get used to it and I know I could do it again. The question was did I really want to? Even I didn't have the answer to that.

It was over an hour before someone spoke up again. Shadow, after glancing down at his compass dashed forwards until he was just over the crest of the road. He gestured, pulling one arm up, to beckon us forward.

At first, the building in the near distance didn't seem all that special. It was downright decrepit. It was a simple brick box, uniform with glassless windows and a slate roof that would fail any housing inspection on the planet, that oozed an uninviting aura that said, "All who enter shall be crushed with the weight of a falling wall."

This was the cache Shadow had been raving on about.

According to him it was completely fine, structurally anyway (Yeah right), and had been designed to look like a hovel to keep intruders out. It was certainly working in my humble opinion. It also seemed that general crumminess and ring of imposing pine trees weren't the only defences the building had. My ears popped about five hundred metres out, just like they had at Ashwood Dale and Greencoast.

Before I could ask if there was some sort of forcefield surrounding the building Shadow grabbed a hold of my collar, strangled me for about five seconds, and shoved me to the ground. Sheira crouched beside me, no assistance required. Something was wrong, it had to be and sure enough, as I followed the line of Shadow's finger, the corrugated iron garage doors were yawning wide open.

"You don't think this place has been raided, do you?" I shuffled closer and strained my eyes into the inky blackness beyond the glassless windows.

Shadow frowned. "We just need a car," he stated, "in and out in half an hour. Simple."

"When has it ever been simple?" Sheira asked eyebrow raised.

Shadow chose not to answer that but even so, he stopped just beyond the threshold of the door and sent out the black webs we'd seen on the train carriage roof. Or covering his skin as he sank to his knees, exhausted in the streets of Truespear Hollow. How much control did he really have? How powerful could he really be if let of the leash, so to speak? I took a step back anyways.

The threads slowly recoiled a few minutes later and melted into his skin. "It's abandoned. Whoever was here left a few days ago."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you sure? Because last time you missed one, or have you forgotten about that?" My hand was still burned from that little 'incident.'

"All corridors cleared of any and all possible life. Sir," he mock saluted, just like a proper soldier, albeit without the sarcasm.

"Very good. Lead on corporal."

Shadow's growl was menacing as he led us into the cold, empty structure.

It had to have been a hospital, or something like that. And don't say asylum, I'm trying not to think about it. The walls, floors, even the ceiling were bleached white with long-defunct LED lights swinging from the ceiling on single-chain ropes. All furniture had been stripped away, literally ripped from the walls until only ghosts of shapes remained. It was like walking into a newly owned house.

From the inside, the building was actually shaped like a doughnut with a depressingly barren courtyard with a withered dead tree square in the middle of it. The rooms on that side were small cement cubes with a single-window that was framed with iron bars. The rooms on the other side were spacious and airy with only glass windows that overlooked the sweeping Scottish countryside.

Suddenly an asylum was becoming all too likely for my personal opinion.

Shadow lead the way tp the back of the doughnut, down a set of stairs that had been ripped straight from an eighties slasher and into a room that was much more my speed. Covered in dust, cobwebs and a horrific amount of rust sat a 2008 Dodge Nitro, a 2009 Toyota Tacoma and last but most certainly not least a 1983 Land Rover 110. I felt like a little kid in my Dad's garage, I couldn't contain myself as I sprinted over to the three beauties.

There were also enough supplies to make a survivalist weep but let's be honest what's more important in this situation?

"Okay," I heard Sheira pulling objects from the shelves, "only take what's necessary, I really don't like this place. Does anyone else feel like they're being watched?"

"Huh?" I looked up from fiddling with the bonnet.

Sheira sighed irritably. "Honestly, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall with you sometimes," she muttered, pulling a black box with a blinking red light from the shelf, shrugged her shoulders and stuffed it into her backpack.

The two of them kept this up for a few more minutes, walking over to shove flares, rope and tinned food into my own backpack. By now I'd managed to open the bonnet of the Dodge and the Toyota and I can safely say it wasn't a pretty sight. The Dodge's engine was just a block of pure rust and unless you strip cleaned the whole thing it was going to be undrivable. The Toyota seemed fine when compared to its American cousin but one of its sparkplugs had apparated to another plane of existence because even after crawling around on the floor it still hadn't reappeared. So that was a bust.

"Come on Britsih engineering don't let me down." I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers and opened the hood.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either. There was no rust and all the parts were present and correct but the old machine didn't have much life left in it. The battery was dead and I'd have to refill it but all in all, I think we were on to a winner.

"I can work with this!" I announced. "We're not screwed yet!"

"Never say never," Shadow wandered over to inspect the engine himself.

Sheira clicked on one of the heavy-duty torches that had been shoved into one of the boxes. The sudden light sent spots dancing in my vision. "How long do you think it'll take?"

I studied the damage. "An hour? Maybe two? It depends on quickly I can charge the battery and if there's any problem I can't see, like if the engine's gunked up."

"Well whatever you need to do, do it quickly this place if giving me the heebee jeebees."

"That makes two of us."

She gestured upwards with her torch beam. "I'm going to head to the roof and keep a lookout."

"If you see anything–" Shadow began.

"Yeah, use the stone. I know. See you on the flipside."

I waited until I heard her footsteps dissipate along the corridor above before rubbing my hands together in excitement. "Right, let's find some jumper cables and get this baby singing."

It didn't take as long as I thought it would. The back of the Dodge had a supply box filled with screwdrivers and pumps and more importantly those oh so precious chords of life transference. Dad always described it as being like a blood transfusion, except he always did it from the mains which, in hindsight, probably wasn't attached to the national grid at all. We had to drain both the Dodge and the Toyota to get so much as a single spark in the Landy but after forty-five minutes we had the engine turning over at least.

Getting it to start was where the real problem began. Even with a full tank, it was stubbornly refusing to start which meant I had to go engine diving again. I was going to smell of oil for a week.

"Maybe it's the connecting rod?" Shadow suggested. He was leaning out of the driver's side, punching the ignition whenever I told him to.

I fiddled with it. The engine sputtered and died. Again.

"I'm thinking it's a piston," I examined the line of components. "Come here and hold this. And hand me a spanner!"

I did seem to be the piston. It wasn't aligned properly and for once being delicate wasn't an option. So I started shoving/beating it back into place with a wrench.

"How do you know so much about cars?" Shadow asked. It probably wasn't the time for a question like that seeing as I was manhandling the engine into submission with a foot-long hunk of solid iron.

"I grew up with 'em," I banged the wrench between each word. "Formula One every Sunday morning, Dad was an engineer, he worked at a power station, so he used those skills on engines in his spare time. He could turn a rust bucket into with a hundred thousand miles on the clock into the batmobile. He was that good."

"Sounds like quite a guy." For once he sounded like he actually meant it.

"I always helped him out. I was tottering around the garage while I was still in my nappies, I could strip an engine and put it back together by the time I was nine. I could drive by the time I was twelve. All I need to do is pass my theory test and I'm road legal."

"Forgive me for being afraid."

I chuckled, "he actually refurbished one for me. A 1967 burgundy red Chevrolet Impala."

Shadow whistled.

"I know, right! I wasn't allowed in the garage for six months while he fixed her and when he's done he tells me that when I'm seventeen she's all mine. I think I cried. I was so excited."

"Was?" Shadow pressed.

"After he died his will had no mention of me or my mother. Everything was going to be left to his brothers, one of whom just happens to be a lawyer."

"No way..."

"We couldn't prove it and the will seemed to be genuine, well it was because it was pre-amended that's how they got away with it, and the four of us were left with nothing. No house, no money, no car. No nothing."

"How could he do that to his own family?"

I kicked a loose stone into a pile of sawdust, never to be seen again. "I don't know. Our lives just crashed after that, and now this has happened. All because we're part of this world and I..."

"You want to know if it's worth it?"

I nodded.

"Look, kid. Everything is amplified in this world. The horrors are more real, the wars are more barbaric and death seems more violent. I've seen it. I've been around too long to pretend it doesn't happen. But let me give you some advice from someone who's been around the block a few times. Life is a two-sided coin. Sometimes that coin is weighted against you and your life sucks, sometimes for years on end."

"Tell me about it."

"But sometimes the weight shifts and suddenly things start looking up and can appreciate them more because of what you've been through." He leant back against the grill and traced a line in the dirt with his shoe. "When I broke free of the Army it was like seeing the world again for the first time. I saw the colour of the winter sunset, a laugh that was genuine and people that weren't twisted with malice for the first time in five years. I'd forgotten that people like that, normal people with jobs and partners and kids and silly little problems like what to have for dinner are as real as the madness we're so used to. Yes, everything sucks and the bad is always worse but the same goes for the good. The triumphs feel stronger, relationships feel more powerful and the view...heh, sometimes you've just got to sit back and watch what this world has to offer. Because yes, it's terrible, but its also just a little bit magnificent. And that leaves something worth fighting for. Does that answer your question?"

I honestly didn't know what to say. What could I say to that?

He turned and glanced at the engine. "Do you think we should try again? I mean you can only beat it up so much."

"Yeah..."I mumbled before shaking myself out of it, "yeah! Turn her over."

He hopped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. I crossed my fingers and glared at it, willing it to start with my mind. Can elementals be telepathic? Not the time for that Nick. The engine growled and stuttered, like a bear waking up from hibernation, and then by some miracle that the gods had blessed us poor sods with, the beat-up, arthritic lump of metal roared to life.

We both cheered and, I must admit, I may or may not have started dancing around the room like a loony. Incaendium started humming "We are the champions" in his sheath (How the hell did he know about modern music?)

"Nice work kid!" Shadow hopped down from the car. "Now let's get the hell out of here! We can make it to Edinburgh by tonight if we don't run into any problems."

"I'll tell Sheira the good news," I said as I pulled the communication stone from my pocket and tightened my fist around it. "Hey Sheira, guess what? Nicky the idiot actually did it! Come on down, we're getting out of here."

I waited. Odd, I thought, why isn't she picking up?

"Red lion to white leopard are you there?"

It sounded like the radio static that some psychopaths, or my little brother, fall asleep to. I've always found it creepy listening to dead air. A cold empty pit was steadily forming in my stomach.

"Sheira?"

"What's wrong?" Shadow asked. There was a genuine look of concern in his eyes.

"Sheira's not talking back."

He frowned and palmed his own stone, shut his eyes and focused. Then opened them again. "Where did she say she was going?"

"Err..." I looked upwards. "The...roof. She was going to the roof."

He didn't say anything else, he just bolted for the stairs.

"What's going on!" I puffed after him. If I ever found pout who designed this place we'd be having a very short conversation quickly followed by a cremation.

"You only hear static when a communication stone has been destroyed!" He called back to me.

Destroyed..."Oh no."

"Exactly!"

Suddenly the idea of running up to the roof didn't seem as challenging. I put on an extra burst of speed and sprinted up to the roof, beating Shadow by a second so I burst into the dying sunlight first, with him hot on my heels.

The sun was just beginning to set and the first stars were just beginning to twinkle against a brilliant amber sky. Long shadows crept over the concrete, dust billowed beneath our feet with every step and yet the bright scarlet drops of blood were plain for all to see.

"Sheira!" I yelled to no one in particular.

Shadow didn't even try to shush me, he just looked around frantically before he pointed at the ground near the tip of the roof. Massive chunks of concrete and rebar had been torn out of the structure and from the patterns in the dust it looked like there had been a massive struggle. I saw paw prints, one set bigger than the other, and a flurry of imprints form boots and shoes.

I recognised Sheira's heavy-duty hiking boots among the chaos, but where was she? Had she fallen over the edge? No, there wasn't anyone on the ground. Had she gone back into the building? No, we would have seen her and the only footprints leaving were Shadow's and myself. Had someone taken her? I didn't want to think about it.

"Look at this," Shadow said.

He was holding something. Something small and...orange? I peered at it. It was a feather, torn and distressed but very clearly an eyewateringly obnoxious orange. No bird in England look like that, no natural one anyway, but we both knew who had, without fail, a bright orange parrot perched on his shoulder.

I looked up into Shadow's eyes. There was something in them I hadn't seen before. It was cold fury but completely new, something raw and angry and he was going to make sure the world knew about it. "Can you track her?" I asked.

"Can you drive?"

I nodded. "Let's go get our girl."

And we ran.