Tanith leaned forward on her elbows, that bright smile back again. “You see? I’ve already had forgeries made, exact copies of these weapons – or as exact as we could get based on a couple of photographs.”

“So we nick each one,” said Jack, “and replace it with a forgery that Sabine here has already charged up with magic? How long will they stay charged?”

“The longest I can charge something for is a little under four days – about ninety hours,” said Sabine.

“Ninety hours,” Tanith repeated. “That gives us plenty of time to operate before anyone realises something’s not right. No one will even know the real weapons have gone missing until we’ve collected all four. It is, if I do say so, a flawless plan where absolutely nothing could possibly go wrong, ever.”

“The other three weapons,” said Dusk. “Where are they?”

“The bow is in Chicago,” Tanith said, “in the hands of mortal gangsters. Should be pretty straightforward, that one. The spear is in Poland, currently in the possession of a mad old hermit living in a cave. And the sword is here in London, and that’s the one we’ll be leaving till last.”

“Whereabouts in London?” Jack asked.

Tanith hesitated for only an eyeblink. “Deep down in the dank recesses of the heavily fortified English Sanctuary. Should be a doddle. Now then, boys and girls, I hope your bags are packed, because we’re off to Germany. Let’s get this party started!”

Tanith jumped up and pumped her fist in the air when she said that. Everyone else just looked at her. But she left the room with an excited grin on her face like she hadn’t even noticed.

Dear God, thought Sabine. She’s nuts.

8

aracen was late – as usual. This didn’t surprise Dexter Vex. Back when they had been in the Dead Men together, the only times when Saracen Rue wasn’t late was when you needed him to step in and save your life. Not a bad habit to have, all things considered, but every now and then Vex just wished his friend would be a little more organised in the day-to-day running of things.

Everyone else was here, sharing space in the Gulfstream V that was sitting on the airfield, waiting for its one remaining passenger to finally turn up. Frightening Jones sat across from Aurora Jane. Born and raised in Africa, his deep baritone contrasted with Aurora’s Californian lilt as they swapped stories about mutual acquaintances and laughed quietly. Where Frightening was immense and powerful, Aurora was small and fragile, and seemed like a stiff breeze could break her in half. Looks were, of course, deceiving. Vex had seen this little brunette with the heart-shaped face in battle. It was why he’d recruited her, after all.