“Eye, help me move this cabinet.”
I didn’t get a chance to help. Eye strode to the cabinet, which looked like my nana’s Welsh dresser. He put his shoulder to it and gave a mighty push. It slid four feet, tottered, and fell over with a crash. There was a door behind it, just as Pursey’s note had promised.
There were shouts—buzzy shouts—from somewhere. Still distant but alarmed. I didn’t know if the Lord High had guessed his prisoners were trying to escape, but he and his cadre of night soldiers had to know something was up.
Stooks lifted the latch of the door and pulled it open. That surprised me, but also gave me hope. Door may be locked, Pursey’s note had said. Not maybe but may be. I hoped I was right about what he meant.
“Go,” I said. “All of you.”
They crowded in, Murf still supporting Freed. My vision was clearing a little now, and I saw a torpedo-shaped lantern sitting on one of the wooden chairs. I mentally blessed Pursey—Percival—with many blessings. If they discovered he’d helped us it would go badly for him if the escape failed. Maybe if it didn’t.
Iota backed out. “It’s fucking dark in there, Charlie. I…” He saw the lantern. “Oh! If we only had owt to light it with.”
I put down my bucket, reached into my sock, and produced a sulphur match. Eye stared at it, then at me, with amazement. “You really are the prince.”
I handed him the match. “Maybe, but I don’t know how this works. You do it.”
While he was lighting the lamp—its glass reservoir was filled with either kerosene or something similar—running steps came toward us from the field.
“Oi, oi! What’s going on in there?” I knew that voice, insect-buzz or not. “Why is that door open?”
Iota looked at me and raised his hands: lit lamp in one, the other empty. No bucket.
“Get in there,” I said. “Pull the door shut. I think it locks on the inside.”
“I don’t want to leave y—”
“GO!”
He went.
Aaron appeared in the door, his blue aura pulsing so bright it was hard to look at. And there I was, with a bucket dangling from one hand. He stopped, momentarily too startled by what he was seeing to move.
Should have kept coming, I thought. I took a step forward and threw the bucket of water at him.
I saw it in the air as if in slow motion: a big amorphous crystal. The skull under Aaron’s skin continued to grin, but on what remained of his human face I saw shocked surprise. I had just time to think of the Wicked Witch of the West screeching I’m melting! I’m melting! He dropped his damned limber stick and raised one arm, as if to block what was coming. I went flat just before the brilliant detonation sent Aaron into what I sincerely hoped was a hellish afterlife.
Bones flew above me… but not all of them passed harmlessly. This time it wasn’t a bee sting in the arm but lines of pain along my scalp and across my left shoulder. I got to my feet, staggered, and turned to the door. I could hear others coming now. I wished for more water, and there was a sink on the far side of the room, but there was no time.
I lifted the latch and pulled, expecting the door to be locked. It wasn’t. I went in, closed it, and grabbed the lantern by its wooden handle. I lowered it and saw two bolts. They looked sturdy. I hoped to God they were. Just as I shot the second one, I saw the inner latch lift and the door began to rattle in its frame. I stepped back. The door was wood, not metal, but I still didn’t want to risk getting shocked.
“Open! Open in the name of Elden Flight Killer!”
“Kiss my asshole in the name of Elden Flight Killer,” somebody said from behind me.
I turned. By the lantern’s paltry glow I could see all thirteen of them. We were in a square corridor lined with white tiles. It made me think of a subway tunnel. There were unlit gas-jets at head-height, marching away into the gloom. My fellow prisoners—ex-prisoners, at least for the time being—were all looking at me, eyes wide, and except for Ammit and Iota, they all looked scared. They were waiting, God help me, for Prince Charlie to lead them.
Hammering on the door. Through the cracks at the sides and bottom, bright blue light.
Leading was easy enough, at least for the moment, because there was only one way to go. I pushed through them, holding up the lantern, feeling absurdly like Lady Liberty with her torch. Something occurred to me then, a line from a war movie I’d seen on TCM. It was out of my mouth before I knew I was going to say it. I suppose I was either hysterical or inspired.