“Not an evocation, though, is it?” said Mark. When had he started leaning over the back of the booth? “Not an illusion at all. It’s really moving. That’s a reified demon, guys. Pretty big one too.”

Mark! thought Walden, and attempted a subtle glare—did he have to make it sound so alarming? For that manner, did he have to announce it loudly in a crowded pub? There was a little silence, which she had to rescue. None of the NQTs were invokers by calling. If they could find a decent NQT to teach invocation, Walden wouldn’t be stuck doing an A-level set on top of a management workload. “Demon summoning is the most boring arcane discipline until it isn’t,” she said, with the I’m-joking smile. “Cool, isn’t it? You’re looking at my doctorate.”

“You’re not…” said Lilly nervously.

“I’m not possessed, no,” airily, as if it were a rather silly question. “The Marshals would be here in two minutes flat if I was.”

Someone coughed awkwardly. Walden looked up.

White jacket with hi-vis strips, gleaming boots, shining armguards graven with runes and shining sword hung neatly at her hip. The square, muscular frame of an athlete; the hair short and tousled and gleaming golden, picked out by electric light against the dark rectangle of the doorway back into the December night. The band on her upper arm marked with KMV, for Knight Mareschal Venitant. A butch avenging angel, a demon slayer out of storybooks, standing in a little pool of silence and attention that could have been just the normal reaction to the police walking into a pub, but could equally have been the entire room experiencing what Walden felt just then, which was Oh come on, this is unfair, no one looks like that!

Laura Kenning glanced around the room with a swift, assessing look, saw Walden and the rest of the group of Chetwood teachers, nodded in their direction, and headed for the bar. How was she here? Why was she here?

“Laura, finally!” cried the Head of Spanish as Laura joined the group. “Still in uniform?”

“Just got off duty,” said Laura, setting her beer down. “Evening.”

And that was when it occurred to Walden that while she didn’t have Laura’s phone number and the ability to text her things like we’re near Leicester Square, come and join us, she wasn’t the only person here who had worked with her for years. Laura had been hired by Chetwood at least two years before Walden herself arrived. Lots of people here knew her well. She felt rather stupid. Also, she felt rather naked, in a sleeveless black dress and too much makeup, with the Phoenix on bold and colourful display.

“Huh,” murmured Mark as he leaned over her shoulder. “Hurtful, but I don’t blame you. Even I can tell that that is a very hot lesbian.”