“It’s still here!” he said. Lilou went and helped, leaving Angela and Sammi standing side by side.

“Whatever you’re going to do...” Angela said.

“I’m working on it.” Sammi’s voice was deeper and more level than before, quieter, and when Angela glanced at her sidelong, she saw the concentration in her expression.

Angela looked around for a weapon. She found a rock the size of her fist and picked it up, hefted it, knew that it was all but useless against one of the risen Kin.

The werewolf lowered its head into an attack position. It was thin and wasted, but that detracted nothing from the threat it presented.

Bone and Lilou were frantically digging in front of the wall, and part of an old metal doorway was already exposed. They’ll never uncover it in time, Angela thought. And even if they do, it’ll never open.

“Don’t you have a gun?” she asked Bone, but he either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her. Need a silver bullet against that anyway, she thought, wondering if that were even true.

The werewolf stopped growling, relaxed, and eased back, and Angela stood taller beside Sammi and wielded the rock. She felt a momentary sense of hope—was the creature in two minds? Were there too many of them?

“Get down!” Sammi said, looking over her left shoulder. Angela dropped to her knees and rolled onto her side. She kept hold of the rock and brought it up before her face as she landed on her back, ready to smash it into anything that might be jumping or charging at them.

The figure she saw must have been the third Kin, Mohserran. He was running towards them, his steps unsteady but his intentions clear. His sunken, shrivelled face was moulded into a visage of pure rage. He was naked, skin folded and hardened into a leathery hide over the decades of his burial or submersion. His limbs were thin, but they seemed strong. Long hair flowed behind his head as he ran, like seaweed caught in a current. His eyes flamed yellow, much brighter than the werewolf Francine’s.

Hopeless, Angela thought, and then the world caught fire. Bright white light filled her eyes. She was blinded, and although she felt a pulse of heat it only caressed and stretched her skin rather than scorching flesh from bones. A boom thundered through the ground and air, compressing her eardrums and driving pain into her skull. The impact lifted her and slammed her back down, winding her. She felt a wave of dust and other debris drive across her, stinging exposed skin and scouring her face and upper arms. She clenched the rock in her hand even harder, and when she squinted she saw sparks leaping across her whitened fingernails, jumping from one to the next and dancing on the exposed stone in between.

The sparks were everywhere.