“Kei Shinigami,” I say, dredging up from memory the name Mother gave me. The one who brought the Reapers back from the Between. The one who took your friend. First to Venetia, above Paris Nouveau, to the Seventh Gate.

Graziani cocks his head, assessing my answer. I can almost feel him reach into my mind, trying—and hopefully failing—to find my thoughts.

“Si,” he says, dropping his arm. “I follow Master Shinigami, Lord of the Order. The multiverse is in need of cleansing. Perfecting. Only master Shinigami can bring order.” He stares at me, unmoved. “But you are not of the Order. You are one of them, the Collective. So, I will ask you one last time. Where. Is. Mother?”

I point over his shoulder, into the gloom. “That way.”

He turns his head, keeping his eyes on me. “Through the alley?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “You take a left there, then left again, then right, right again, and left. Head straight for a bit and then that’s it. You’ve arrived. It’s right there, you can’t miss it…right on the corner of…goscrewyourself and kissmyarse.”

He glares at me, his expression turning quickly from disbelief to fury.

My gut churns. False bravery. I don’t know where it comes from, this instinct to hit back at him. Whatever it is, I go with it. And I realise something with a shock.

I like it.

Then everything changes.

21

A blur. Graziani’s coat flaps open and a bright spit of blood arcs through the air and spatters the white-fur collar. He cries out and swings around. Whipping past him comes a shadow-shape—appearing, vanishing, then reappearing so fast, it seems like a glimmer of light. It streaks across the space and another splash of blood flies up and Graziani howls and slashes down with the sword. He misses.

The glimmer flashes. And stops. A figure blurs into focus.

I see now what it is…who it is.

Vidhan.

“Holy hell,” he says, panting, switching his blade from hand to hand. “Forgot how bloody cold it is here.”

I stare at him, amazed. I open my mouth to respond, but there isn’t time.

In the corner of my eye, I see Graziani move again.

He lunges at Vidhan and Vidhan smokes out the way—just blurs and vanishes. Then suddenly he’s next to me again, grinning. “Yeah!” he says. “That just happened.”

Before I can say a word, Graziani flies at us, sword cutting the air. And behind him—from the shadows—the others. The men in dark suits. Except they are not men. They’re changing, morphing, becoming something else.

Graziani brings Ra slashing across at us. We duck and Vidhan, with uncanny speed, slides away and the Reapers follow him, bodies bulging and contorting.

Then a snapping sound, like a whip cracking through the air.