Vince, hauling himself upright in turn, saw a flicker of movement to his right. Angela dashed beneath tree cover, and at first he thought she was going for Mallian. He wanted to scream at her to wait, hold back, because the Nephilim would kill any of them who went close enough, and he could not bear to see Angela killed.

Anyone but Angela.

As he opened his mouth to shout, she ran into the fairy and sent her sprawling in the long grass.

No, Vince thought, but then he realised what Angela had done, and why. Mallian froze and frowned, and as he turned back towards the fallen fairy, Sammi set to work kneeling amongst the relics.

“Hey!” Vince called, standing and waving his spear at Mallian. “Hey, you big ugly fuck!”

Mallian did not take the bait. He didn’t even glance back at Vince. Instead, all of his attention was on the fairy, and the woman wrapping her arms around her to hold her tight.

“No!” Vince shouted, and he ran. It felt like he was moving in slow motion, but his brain shifted at the speed of light. Bone crouched to his right, motionless and powerless. Dastion was beside Sammi with his pike raised, ready to protect her. Other shadows moved beneath the trees and above them, Kin that were friend or foe. Further away were shouts and shooting, explosions and roars, screams.

None of that mattered now.

“Let go!” Vince shouted, and he and Angela locked eyes. “Let her go,” he said again, quieter, and he raised his spear.

He was ten metres from Mallian, and ten seconds too late.

The fairy seemed to pulse. It was a heavy, single throb, smacking through the ground and air with the power and impact of a giant heartbeat. Angela was thrown across the clearing, too fast for the movement to be followed.

Vince heard rather than saw her crash against a tree.

He shouted in rage and grief, a wordless scream, and closed on Mallian with his spear raised. The Nephilim must have been momentarily distracted by what he had done and the effort it had taken to control Grace. Vince plunged the spear into Mallian’s left side, shoving as hard as he could, feeling it grind against bone and then snap as Mallian roared and turned. He slammed one arm into Vince and sent him spinning, breathless, bouncing across the ground towards where Bone crouched in the shadows.

Pain sang in from all directions—his broken arm flopped against his stomach and side, he heard a crunch from his ribs, bruises and cuts rose and bled. His head felt like a solid metal chunk that had been pounded and bent out of shape. Bone grabbed him and helped him sit up.

“Angela,” Vince whispered.

“Sammi,” Bone said. “Look.”