Jacob took a step forward, and the thugs just broke and ran, departing screaming down the corridor. Jacob laughed softly, and I winced. There was nothing human in the horrid sound. And then suddenly he was just Jacob again, my old friend and support. But after seeing what he really was, or could be, I had to wonder if I’d ever be able to look at him the same way again.

He must have sensed something, because he turned and looked at me uncertainly. He tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“Sometimes . . . I feel like I’m just the tip of an iceberg, Eddie, and that if I ever found out just how much more of me there really is, I wouldn’t be me at all. That’s why I need to keep my living self close; he reminds me of what it is to be human. To be only human.”

“Wonderful,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice light. “Something else to worry about.”

Jacob managed something like his old grin. “It’s not easy being a ghost. Or everybody would be doing it.”

“Fascinating,” said Giles. “You people have taken psychological warfare in a whole new direction.”

“Can we please burst in on Harry and ruin his day?” said Molly. “I’m feeling an increasing need to hit someone.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been that kind of a day.”

I kicked in the Sanctity doors, and we all stormed into the great open chamber. Strange’s rich crimson glow had expanded to fill almost half of the massive hall, but it no longer projected the old comfort and reassurance. Harry broke off from shouting at his advisors and spun around to face us. He recognised me immediately, but instead of the surprise I expected, after eighteen months away and no guarantee I was ever coming back, all I saw in his face was a cold, calculating anger. Behind him, his advisors’ jaws dropped in a quite satisfactory manner, though I didn’t think much of Harry’s choices. The Sarjeant-at-Arms was there, of course, and Roger Morningstar, and Sebastian and Freddie Drood. The latter pair doing their best to hide behind the first two. Still, to give Harry his due, he recovered quickly. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, as though to see me more clearly, and glared haughtily at me.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “Typical of you, Eddie, not to be around when you’re needed. And where are my guards? They’re supposed to keep out . . . unnecessary people when I’m working.”

“Your guards will be back,” I said. “Eventually. There’s only so far they can run before they run out of grounds. One of them called you Patriarch. When did that happen, Harry?”