“The Stones look to be almost half a mile away; is that really the closest you can get us?”

“This isn’t a nest, as such,” I said. “Not a ghoulville. Just an underground base surrounded by layer upon layer of the best scientific and magical protections money can buy. We wouldn’t even know it was there if the tower wasn’t poking out of it, so to speak. You’ll have to sneak up on them. Unless you’ve changed your mind about going . . .”

“Of course I haven’t! It’s just . . . I don’t like this. It feels like a trap.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “But what kind of trap could Manifest Destiny put together that could hold Harry Drood, Roger Morningstar, and two hundred good men and women in golden armour?”

Harry smiled slightly. “You really suck at the inspirational thing, you know that?” He looked at Roger. “Let’s go, bro.”

“Oh please,” said Roger. “You know I don’t do that macho stuff.”

Harry and Roger led their strike force through the Merlin Glass, and I immediately closed the gateway behind them. Truman was a sneaky bastard, and I wouldn’t put anything past him, including deliberately revealing his tower’s presence as a way of tricking us into opening a gateway he could then take advantage of. But . . . it all seemed quiet enough. Molly took my arm and hugged it tightly to her side as we watched Harry hiss orders to his strike force to spread out across the open, grassy field, to as not to make a single target. Their golden armour gleamed dully in the sparse evening light. As far as the display screens could tell, they were alone in the field. Everything was still and quiet. And then Roger’s head snapped up and he pointed off into the gloom. And all around the scattered strike force, dark figures appeared from every direction at once, moving at impossible speeds.

The figures were human, but moving supernaturally quickly, impossibly fast, streaking across the open field at a pace even armoured Droods couldn’t have matched. The Droods turned to face them, lifting their weapons, but they almost seemed to be moving in slow motion compared to their attackers. As the figures closed in, their every movement was so fast as to make them just a blur on the display screens. Even their faces were unclear. They were just shapes, flashing through the evening gloom.

They swarmed all over the Droods, attacking and falling back almost before the armoured Droods could react. The attackers didn’t seem to possess any weapons, they just beat repeatedly at the golden armour with their bare hands. When that didn’t work, glowing knives appeared in their hands, and they struck again. And this time Droods went down as glowing blades sliced right through their armour to the men and women beneath. The strike force fell, one by one, unable to match their attackers’ speed even for a moment. Harry called his people back to make a defensive circle, but by the time he’d finished speaking half of them were already dead.