Death of an Adept

The heat intensified - welcome warmth to Adam's half-frozen body, but his peril was no less for that, only different. As he clawed vainly at the knots still binding his left wrist, another dull explosion bowled him over again, heralding the final destruction of the blade.

A sulphurous wind swept the chapel bounds as the shadow-form of Soulis reared ever larger, flushing the last of the defenders from their coverts. Redcap could not be seen. More daring than her male counterparts, Angela made a furtive bid to retrieve the discarded chalice, only to fling it from her with a scream as the heated metal scorched her hands.

As she, too, bolted into the darkness, Adam craned his neck after her, trying to see where she had gone. Unable to locate Raeburn either, and desperate to get as far away as possible from what was happening on the other side of the altar, he hauled himself upright enough to try picking with his teeth at the knots imprisoning his wrist, though the effort made his head reel, and he was on the verge of passing out. He could only hope that if McLeod and his other would-be rescuers did succeed in breaking through, they would not be instantly overwhelmed by the infernal forces that had been summoned here.

The glut of power had enlarged Soulis' presence until the boundaries of Raeburn's circle could no longer contain it. Inflated to monstrous proportions, his shadow-form flexed and then burst free. Outside, crouched down behind the Land Rover, Peregrine watched in dumb astonishment as a heavy black cloud mushroomed upward and spread itself like a greasy canopy between the ground and the sky.

''What, in God's name, is that?" he breathed, as Ximena buried her face against his shoulder.

"I don't think God has much to do with it," McLeod muttered in reply. "Take a closer look."

Following the line of the inspector's pointing finger, Peregrine saw that the cloud had eyes - twin lamps of infernal fire that flickered hungrily this way and that, as if searching for something to devour. Even as they watched, horrified, it began drifting westward into the darkness.

"It has to be some demon of Raeburn's summoning," McLeod continued in a tight voice. "Or maybe Soulis himself, somehow transformed. Pray God it wasn't at the expense of Adam; we've got to find him! And if Raeburn called that thing, I expect we're going to have to get at Raeburn to send it back."

As he was speaking, Duart ghosted out of the shadows behind them to crouch alongside.

"I think we've got the perimeter secured," he said. "My men have several prisoners. You ready to go get Sinclair?"

Summoning Peregrine and Ximena to follow, McLeod trotted after Duart toward the end of the hoardings. They were almost abreast of a gap when a clumsy shape suddenly burst out at them, whisking past McLeod with explosive speed. The inspector had a fleeting impression of a grinning, fang-mouthed face surmounted by a red cap before the creature made a break for open ground, bowling Peregrine over in the speed of its passage.

With a startled curse, Duart dropped to one knee and fired several bursts after it, but with no apparent effect. Recovering himself, McLeod set a restraining hand on Duart's arm.

"Save your ammunition," he ordered. "Finding Adam is our first priority."

The chapel's interior was awash with firelight behind the hoardings. First to make cautious entry, McLeod was not surprised to note a line of blood traced around the perimeter of the foundations, though it had been rubbed out near at hand by the scuffle of many feet. Whatever magical containment field it once had defined, that had since been broken by those attempting to escape from the demon that Raeburn had summoned.

But power of another sort stirred with McLeod's next step, as something seemed almost to shimmer in the air about him, accompanied by a sudden thudding in his head that reverberated behind his eyes. Gasping, he nearly dropped his weapon as he caught at a wall for balance. Peregrine almost trod on his heels.

"Noel?" he cried, as Ximena glanced over in alarm.

"I'm all right," McLeod said dazedly. "There's - ah - another Presence here, wanting in."

"What?" Ximena murmured, as Peregrine gripped the inspector's shoulder in alarm.

"Well, don't open up to it," the artist said. "We haven't a clue who it is!"

Just then, as Duart and one of his men slipped into the chapel to secure it, weapons at the ready, Ximena stifled a cry and pointed past them, eyes wide.

"Look!" she cried. "There!"

At the base of the altar, just visible through screening fire and smoke, two bodies could be seen sprawled one atop the other in the snow, a dark-haired and naked one sheltering another, who was, partially shrouded in a filthy white robe. One arm of the naked one was stretched taut above his head, caught all too close to the flames that were eating down a black altar-cloth spilling from the ruined altar above their heads.