They did not pass any other late-night walkers as they picked their way along the backstreets. They walked variously: Lemuel’s sidekick stolidly and without fear, seemingly unaffected by the ambient nightmare quality in the air; Lemuel himself with many glances into dark doorways; and Isaac and Derkhan with a nervous, miserable haste.

They halted at Barbile’s door on Wardock Street. Lemuel turned and indicated for Isaac to go forward, but Derkhan pushed to the front.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered furiously. The others fell back. When they stood half out of sight at the edge of the doorway, Derkhan turned and pulled the bell cord.

For a long time, nothing happened. Then, gradually, footsteps slowly descended stairs and approached the door. They halted just beyond it, and there was silence. Derkhan waited, hushing the others with her hands. Eventually a voice called out from behind the door.

“Who’s that?”

Magesta Barbile sounded utterly fearful.

Derkhan spoke softly and quickly.

“Dr. Barbile, my name’s Derkhan. We need to speak to you very urgently.”

Isaac glanced around him to see if any of the lights in the street were coming on. So far they seemed unobserved.

From behind the door, Magesta Barbile was being difficult.

“I . . . I’m not sure about that . . .” she said. “It’s not really a good time . . .”

“Dr. Barbile . . . Magesta . . .” said Derkhan quietly. “You’re going to have to open this door. We can help you. Just open the fucking door. Now.”

There was another moment of dithering, then Magesta Barbile unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack. Derkhan was about to seize the moment by pushing past her into the house, when she started and stood quite still. Barbile was holding a rifle. She looked horribly uncomfortable. But however unpractised she was, the weapon was still levelled at Derkhan’s gut.

“I don’t know who you are . . .” began Barbile querulously, but before she could continue Lemuel’s huge friend, Mr. X, reached easily and without speed around Derkhan, grabbing the rifle and shoving the heel of his hand over the firing-pan, blocking the path of the hammer. Barbile began to keen, and she pulled the trigger, eliciting a mild hiss of pain from Mr. X as the hammer snapped onto his flesh. He shoved the rifle backwards, sending Barbile flying onto the stairs behind her.

As she flopped and scrambled to right herself he stepped into the house.

The others followed. Derkhan did not protest at Barbile’s treatment. Lemuel was right. They did not have time.

Mr. X was standing holding the woman. He held her patiently as she flopped and snapped back and forth, emitting terrible crooning moans from behind his hand. Her eyes were wide and white and hysterical with fear.

“Dear gods,” breathed Isaac. “She thinks we’re going to kill her! Stop!”