McAvoy, on top of his son, shielding his body with his own.

A soft, wet explosion.

An instant of warm rain and the pitter-patter of fragmented bone.

Then the clatter of the devil’s headless body slumping to the floor.

And Fin lets the darkness take him.

THIRTY-SIX

12.44 p.m.
Snuff Mill Lane, Cottingham

Roisin’s mobile starts to trill a moment before the speakers in Pharaoh’s little convertible vibrate with the sound of an incoming call.

Roisin, childlike and silent in the passenger seat, snatches up the mobile. ‘Aector?’

Pharaoh, her knuckles white, an ache from her fingertips to the top of her head, stabs the button on the centre of the steering wheel. ‘Hector?’

Silence for a moment. Rain and traffic and the screech of bald windscreen wipers over dirty glass.

Then the tension in the car pops like a glistening blister.

Tears flow in rivers down Roisin’s face. She nods. Grins. Begins to shake.

‘Thank fuck,’ whispers Pharaoh, and puts one hand to her heart. ‘Thank fuck.’

Pharaoh pulls up onto the kerb and flicks on the hazard lights.

The cheerful voice of Andy Daniells fills the vehicle.

‘Nice to hear your voice too, boss.’

‘Oh he … and you … no, bollocks to Daddy, he did this, he can deal with it … is he cross with me – no tell him Lilah loves him, he saved her, she’ll know he’s a hero … I didn’t mean it to be like this, Aector, oh Blessed Jesus and all the Saints I’m so glad to hear you …’

‘Save me, Andy,’ says Pharaoh, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s so sickly sweet in here my diabetes is starting to bite.’

‘Heard from the big man,’ says Daniells, emphasizing the words to indicate that he’s overheard and recognized the other voice in the vehicle. ‘Said he’s sorry he did a runner like that but it was a family emergency. He’ll call you when he has a moment …’

Pharaoh looks across at Roisin. Shakes her head, smiling a little. She’s grinning from ear to ear, whispering ‘love yous’ and ‘so-so-sorrys’, her voice the rustle and hush of bare feet through dry leaves. She lets herself enjoy the moment. She’ll have to tidy things up, she has no doubt about that. But she sees something more than simple relief in Roisin’s expression. Her boy is alive.

‘Well,’ says Pharaoh, loud enough for McAvoy to be able to hear her voice through Roisin’s phone. ‘Family emergency, is it? Whatever could that have been?’

The complex four-way conversation comes to a brief pause. A light rain begins to pitter-patter on the windscreen. An arsehole in an Audi leans on the horn, complaining to anybody who will listen that some silly cow in a clapped-out convertible has blocked his drive.

In the passenger seat, Roisin grimaces. ‘Yes,’ she whispers, into the phone. ‘I had to. I didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s OK. She knows. She’ll help.’ She wipes her eyes. Gives Pharaoh a look that she recognizes. ‘She’d do anything for you, Aector.’