She shrugged. “I don’t know. Too many. Won some, lost more, and lost too many good friends along the way. I’m a lot older than I look; serial regenerations will do that to you. Though they don’t stop you feeling old inside. Once I fought because I believed in my cause. Then because I hated demons. Now, just because . . . it’s what I do.”

“Still,” I said. “An actual hellgate, a direct link between a material plane and the Pit; that’s rare, isn’t it?”

“Very,” said Janissary Jane. “Or humanity would have been wiped out long ago. We had a whole army of seasoned demon fighters, heroes and warriors and soldiers, veterans of a hundred wars, and all we could do was die. We had the weapons and the tactics, but they had the numbers. I saw cities burning, mountains of severed heads, waded through blood and guts . . . The screaming never stopped. Eventually the very laws of reality started to change, warped by the presence of so many demons. We fought them for every inch, climbing over the bodies of our own fallen to throw ourselves at the enemy . . . and none of it did any good. We killed and killed, and still they came, laughing at us.”

She stopped speaking then. She started to raise the whiskey bottle to her mouth, and then lowered it again, as though she knew it wouldn’t help. Her cold gray eyes were far away, lost in memories she couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried.

“So, what happened?” Molly said finally.

“That dimension isn’t there anymore,” said Janissary Jane. “The demons were winning, so we blew it up, to prevent the demons from using it as a base to invade other dimensions.” She smiled sourly. “To save the universe, we had to destroy it. Some things never change. And only I am escaped to tell you the tale. Buy me another drink, Shaman. Something stronger.”

“You don’t have to join up with us,” said Molly.

“Yes I do,” said Janissary Jane. “I need a battle I can win.”

“Oh dear God, it’s you,” said a familiar voice. We all looked around, and there was the Blue Fairy. He was looking a lot better than the last time I’d seen him, but then, that wouldn’t have been difficult. That Blue Fairy had been on his last legs, physically and spiritually, and the figure before us was leaner, fitter, and dressed in the very smartest style. His face was still utterly dissolute, the few handsome traces remaining almost buried under lines of hard experience, but you had to expect that with the Blue Fairy. He had lived not wisely but too well, and it showed. He scowled at all of us, but me in particular.