When it was finally over, only fifteen of us were left standing. Molly clung on to me, trembling in every limb, and I held her to me, only our shared strength keeping us on our feet. Roger Morningstar was holding Harry. Janissary Jane was on the radio to Callan and his people, left behind on the cliff, yelling for him to bring down transport for us. We had to gather up our fallen and get them out of here before the authorities arrived. The nine Droods dropped their armour; they all looked dazed and shell-shocked. Mr. Stab stared around him at the massed heaps of the dead, and smiled.

Harry let go of Roger and limped over to confront me. Behind the impassive silver mask, his voice was cold and harsh.

“We stopped the gateway opening. We brought down the tower and killed most of the Loathly Ones. But was it worth it, Eddie? Look at how few of us are left! Everyone else is dead! This was a debacle, a disaster. We’ve never lost this many family in a single operation in the whole history of our family! All so you could play the hero, one more time. When we get back, I’ll make sure everyone knows this was all your fault!”

“Of course you will, Harry,” I said tiredly. “That’s what you do. Go running to the Matriarch, like the good little toady you are. See what good it does you.”

“If you hadn’t taken away everyone’s torcs, most of those people would still be alive!”

“Yes. You’re probably right there.”

“You should have given everyone new torcs. Not just the ones you trusted to support you.”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? He was right.

Harry turned his back on me and walked away. Molly finally let go of me and pulled something out of a hidden pocket.

“I found this, in the wreckage of the tower. It’s so full of potential magic, it all but shouted at me. You recognise it?”

I turned it over and over slowly in my hands. It was an amulet of some kind, deeply etched with Kandarian symbols. I could only translate one word.

“Invaders,” I said.

“Wonderful,” said Molly. “The Martians are coming.”

“No,” I said, too tired even to smile. “I’m pretty sure this was part of the summoning spell. An invocation, to bring through . . . whatever that was we stopped. Except . . . this is very definitely plural. Invaders . . . Not just one.”

“I may puke,” said Molly. “All we went through, just to stop one . . . what?”

“Something from Outside,” I said. “An invasion force, of something far worse than soul-eaters. Move over. I think I want to puke too.”

“Invaders,” said Molly. “Called by the Loathly Ones. Does that mean . . . more nests, more towers, somewhere else in the world?”

“Almost certainly,” I said. “Maybe in every country in the world. This was just the beginning.”