She moved onwards without encountering anybody else. Passport Control was quiet. Directly opposite her, across the open floor, was a glass wall, and beyond that she could see a crowd of people who had just passed through. Among the bright shirts and colourful dresses and blue jeans there were people in black, some in jackets, some in coats, some carrying bags and some not, walking apart so as not to attract attention. Necromancers. She peered round the door, to her right, where two cops were sitting in booths, chatting across to each other as they waited for the next influx of travellers. Valkyrie darted to the empty booth closest to her, using the air to rise over the barricade. She dropped gently to the other side and ran, crouched over. She sneaked behind the booths where the cops were sitting, and out into the corridor. Now she sprinted after the crowd of passengers.

She caught up with the ones lagging behind, the ones for whom this long walk was just proving too much. They puffed and wheezed with red faces, fat droplets of sweat running down their cheeks, travel cases trundling along behind like sulky children. She ran under the sign that pointed to the Luggage Retrieval area. She doubted the Necromancers would have any bags to collect. They weren’t here for a holiday, after all.

She barged through a small group of people, got to the top of the stairs and leaped. People around her cried out in alarm, but she didn’t have time to waste. She waited until the last moment to cushion her landing, hit the ground and rolled. She ignored the disapproving headshakes, immediately catching sight of the Necromancers on the far side of the baggage belts. She took off, using the air to nudge people from her path. She jumped on to a conveyer belt that wasn’t moving, slid across the highest point and jumped down the other side. An airport official stepped into her path and she jammed her hand against his chest. His cheeks bulged and he stumbled back as she vaulted on to the next conveyer belt. This one was moving, full of luggage. She almost tripped, but made it to the centre and scrambled over to the other side, leaped off and into a crowd of startled civilians. The Necromancers hadn’t noticed the commotion. She ran to intercept them as they headed for the Exit, coming to a sharp halt in front of the Necromancer leading the march.

The Necromancers stopped, each one of them suspicious. Valkyrie held up a hand while she doubled over.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “Let me… get my breath… back.”

They didn’t try to move around her. Their eyes were on the ring on her finger.

“You have instructions?” the lead Necromancer asked.

She breathed deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and straightened. “Yes,” she said. “You’re… not needed. You’re to… go home.”