CHAPTER EIGHT
THE BARGAINS WE MAKE
One moment Amanda and I were walking through the dark green twilight of Sherwood forest, and the next I was inside a cage. Thick iron bars pressed in from every side, and the top was so low I was forced into a half crouch. My first startled movement was immediately punished so viciously I had no choice but to stand still, because the inside of every bar was studded with razor-sharp spikes.
Trapped in a cage with no door, where even the slightest movement brought sudden pain and a rush of blood. Caught halfway between standing and crouching, unable to properly support my weight with either my back or my thigh muscles. I knew I couldn’t maintain this stance for long . . . But I had no choice.
I turned my eyes but not my head, and there was Amanda in a second cage, just a few feet away. It was smaller than mine, just enough to force her into the same hideously uncomfortable position, but she didn’t seem at all disturbed. Instead, she was studying the spiked bars in a cool and thoughtful way. I had to call her name twice before she turned her eyes in my direction.
“What is it, Jack? I’m thinking.”
“Where are we?” I said, keeping my voice carefully calm. “And what the hell is going on?”
“I arrived here the same moment you did,” she said patiently. “All I can tell you is, this isn’t where we were supposed to be going next.”
I took a deep breath, and then gritted my teeth as a row of spikes stabbed me in the back. I could feel blood running down under my jacket. I took a moment, to make sure my voice would be calm and steady.
“Any idea why we’re locked up in these S and M birdcages, without even the benefit of a nice mirror and some cuttlefish?”
“Obviously, someone has interrupted our journey,” said Amanda. “I knew I was taking a risk when I revealed my power in Sherwood, but I didn’t think they’d strike back this quickly.”
“Who could be powerful enough to put you in a cage?”
“Good question,” said Amanda. And then she went back to frowning at the bars of her cage.
My back and leg muscles were aching fiercely from the strain of holding the same position. I tried to reach for my backpack, but there wasn’t enough room to raise my arm. I tried shrugging the pack off my shoulder, but only succeeded in stabbing myself repeatedly. Blood pattered steadily onto the floor of my cage, and I had to stop and breathe heavily.
“What are you doing, Jack?” said Amanda.
“If I can just get to my athame, I can cut through these bars,” I said.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Amanda. “Like animals caught in a trap, we will wait for the hunters to come to us. And once we know who they are, we’ll make them sorry they ever thought of this.”
I would have nodded, but I didn’t dare. A heavy spike was already threatening my forehead, and two more extended right in front of my eyes.
“These cages have the Department’s sense of humour stamped all over them,” I growled. “But they stink of desperation. The secret masters must have realised we’re closing in on them.”
Amanda’s eyes turned in my direction. “You think we’re getting close?”
“Aren’t we?”
“Well,” she said. “I don’t know about close. Closer, maybe.”
One of my thighs twitched heavily from the stress of holding the same cramped position for so long, and my shoulder jerked in response. A spike punched through my leather jacket and gouged my upper arm. Blood coursed down my sleeve and dripped from my fingers. I swore under my breath, and forced myself to hold still.
“I should have known the Department would put someone new on our trail,” I said. “Now that Miriam and Emil are dead.”
“The world is better off without them,” Amanda said absently.
I took a moment, before I answered her. “Did you have to kill Miriam? I think I could have brought her around, if things had been different.”
“But they weren’t,” said Amanda. “She would never have stopped coming after us, Jack. I knew how you felt about her. That’s why I killed her; so you wouldn’t have to.”
I didn’t have an answer to that, so I looked past the bars to check out our surroundings. A wooden stage swept away in both directions, ending in heavy curtains at the wings. Beyond the stage a great open space ended in curved tiers of seats that made up the far wall, and when I glanced up I could just make out a thatched roof. Oil lamps shed a pleasant golden glow, but it seemed to me there were far too many shadows: all of them deep and dark and menacing. I tried to raise my Sight so I could examine them, only to find something was blocking it. A brief panic flashed through me. No one had ever been able to do that before. I swallowed hard, and hung on to my self-control with both hands.
“I know where we are, Amanda . . . ” I said steadily. “This is the modern version of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre, in London. I came here a few years back.”
“Oh yes,” Amanda said politely. “Which play did you see?”
“I wasn’t here for that,” I said. “I’d been summoned in my official capacity. Most theatres are lousy with ghosts, but the Globe had to go one step further. Actors were being possessed, night after night, just when they came to their big speech. They would suddenly start belting it out in the old bravura pin them to the back of the stalls style, and then just snap out of it, with no memory of what had happened.
“I shooed everyone out, and when I was sure I had the place to myself I took the stage and launched into what I could remember of Hamlet’s soliloquy. I must have been seriously awful, because the possessing spirit descended on me like the wrath of God, but no one gets inside my head but me.
“I called for whatever it was to show itself, and a ghost manifested right in front of me: tall and stately, with a straight back and a noble brow, dressed in the height of Victorian finery. He was delighted someone could finally see him, and we ended up having a nice little chat. Maximillian Lionheart was an old-time matinee idol who really didn’t care for the modern style of acting, all method and mumbling and lack of passion. He said he only wanted to show today’s audiences what a real performance was, but really he was just missing his time in the spotlight. Acting had been his whole life, and he wasn’t ready to move on and leave it behind.
“I examined the ghost carefully with my Sight, and discovered he had a demon on his back. The nasty little thing had its claws dug in deep, so it could feed on his pain and need. I produced a pair of mail gloves from my backpack, specially knitted by the bearded nuns of St Baphomet’s. The gloves let me grab hold of the demon, and rip it right off the ghost’s back. I stuffed the nasty wriggling thing into my backpack, along with the gloves, and then used my athame to cut a door into reality that opened onto the hereafter. I told Max the light spilling out was the biggest spotlight ever, and that the greatest audience of all time was waiting for him. He thanked me profusely, drew himself up, and walked proudly through the door.”
“Is there a reason you’re telling me all this?” Amanda said politely.
“It helps take my mind off being trapped in a cage full of spikes,” I said.
“Of course,” said Amanda. “How did you get rid of the demon?”
“I curdled its ectoplasm, distilled it into a spirit bottle, and then buried it in consecrated ground,” I said harshly. “Haven’t you anything useful to tell me?”
“We’re not in the modern theatre,” said Amanda. “This is the original Globe, in the year sixteen fifteen.”
“How are you always so sure about the date?” I said. “Do you have a built-in calendar?”
She smiled briefly. “Something like that. How much do you know about this period, Jack?”
I thought for a moment. “Elizabeth died in sixteen oh three, so James is on the throne. Not a great fan of magic, as I recall . . . Hey, wait a minute. Someone told me the original Globe burned down in sixteen thirteen?”
“It did,” said Amanda. “Which means we are trapped inside a building that shouldn’t even exist. Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Are we still in the past that was, before the rewriting?” I said.
“Of course.”
“So what’s it like here?”
“All the magical races have left this world,” said Amanda, “And most of the old monsters with them. But there are still some magical wells here and there, and those who draw power from them.”
I waited, but she had nothing more to say. I went back to studying the open area beyond the stage. There was fresh sawdust on the ground, but nothing to suggest anyone had walked across it recently. A quick glance confirmed the tiered seats were just as empty. Amanda and I had the Globe theatre all to ourselves. But why cage us here, and now?
“Are you sure about the date?” I said.
“Oh please,” said Amanda. “I am always right.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Merlin said that, at Camelot.”
“He got it from me.”
“If this really is sixteen fifteen,” I said, not giving an inch just on general principles, “then we won’t be meeting Shakespeare. He went home to Stratford-on-Avon after his theatre burned down.”
“But what need have you for Willy Shakes-rags, when you have me?” said a loud and cheerful voice.
A tall well-made fellow came striding out of the left-hand wings. He had long red hair, a handsome face, and a rogue’s smile. Dressed to the height of Elizabethan fashion, he swirled his cloak around him in suitably dramatic style. I could just make out the hilt of a sword hanging scabbarded at his side. He swaggered to a halt before Amanda and me and grinned broadly, as though everything was bound to be fine now that he’d turned up.
“Christopher Marlowe, and it please you,” he said, favouring us with an elegant bow accompanied by some sweeping arm work. “Renowned playwright, poet, and wit about town. Also spy, duellist, and intriguer to the trade. Call me Kit.”
“I’m Jack Daimon,” I said. “The Outsider.”
He raised a neatly trimmed eyebrow. “I am the current Outsider, sir. I was not aware Dr. Dee had raised another to my position.”
“I’m not from around here,” I said. “This is my companion, Amanda.”
Kit nodded to her politely. “Delighted, I’m sure.”
“I attended the first performance of your Doctor Faustus,” she said. “I liked the fireworks.”
Kit shook his head mournfully. “My speeches were fireworks enough, and had no need of adornment, but the groundlings will have such things. And the theatre owners insisted.”
“I didn’t know you were the Outsider, as well as a playwright,” I said.
“Tasked to deal with all unnatural threats to Crown and country,” said Kit. “A man of secret power and unknown influence, and yet somehow here I am, trapped and confined in this theatre just like you.”
“You’re not stuck inside a cage,” I said.
“My prison may not be as obvious as yours, but I assure you it holds me just as securely.” Kit took a moment to study the vicious spikes lining the inside of my cage, and then dropped me a knowing wink. “I have memories of a certain bawdy house in Deptford where you’d have to pay good coin to be treated in such a fashion.”
“I’m not here by choice,” I said.
Kit shrugged. “Well, we can’t all be interesting. What did you do, to earn such pointed treatment?”
“Amanda and I have enemies,” I said. “Can you get us out?”
“Alas, I see no lock to pick,” said Kit. “Nor any trace of a door that I might force.”
I tried to keep the disappointment out of my face. My body was aching all over from the stress of holding myself still.
“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” I said.
Kit shrugged, which seemed to be his default response to most questions. “I also have no shortage of enemies. Ex-lovers, creditors . . . critics. And of course in my time as Outsider, I have made enemies both monstrous and inhuman.”
“How did you get to be the Outsider?” said Amanda.
“The role was thrust upon me,” said Kit. “Gloriana required it, and I never could say no to her.”
“I should hope not,” said a loud and commanding voice.
Queen Elizabeth I came striding out of the wings to join us. She was barely average height, and thin enough to look half-starved, but there was no denying she had presence. Hard and unflinching, she came storming across the stage as though perfectly prepared to walk right over or even through anything that got in her way, because that was how she had survived so long, surrounded by enemies without number and friends she couldn’t trust. She was wearing a voluminous gown of creamy silk studded with any number of semi-precious stones, along with massive puffed sleeves and a tall open collar. Her aged face was painted stark white, touched here and there with fierce dabs of cosmetics, under a rather obvious red wig. She advanced on us like a galleon under full sail, and finally slammed to a halt facing Kit. She swayed for a moment, as she struggled to regain her balance against the accumulated momentum of her gown, and then nodded briefly to Kit before fixing Amanda and me with a cold stare.
“I find myself imprisoned on this stage by unknown forces,” she said bluntly. “Do you have any knowledge of who is responsible for this outrage?”
“We only just got here,” said Amanda.
The queen turned to Kit, who offered her one of his best shrugs.
“Sorry, Auntie. I’m as much in the dark as you.” He smiled at the look of surprise on my face. “Oh yes, Gloriana is indeed my kith and kin; though of course I was never officially acknowledged, being born on the unacceptable side of the blanket.”
Elizabeth dismissed him with a sniff, and glowered around the Globe.
“At least our prison is known to me. I spent many a happy time here, attending master Shakespeare’s plays. Incognito, of course.”
“Everyone knew who you were really,” said Kit.
“Not officially!” the queen said loudly. She took a moment to settle herself, before turning to me and Amanda. “My fondness was always for the comedies. Too much affliction in my life, to properly enjoy a tragedy. And while I appreciated the histories, and funded the writing of most of them at one remove or another, I knew far too much about the real nature of events to ever be comfortable with master Will’s more poetic versions.” She stopped, to snap a look at Kit. “What are you frowning at, boy?”
“You seem so much older than I remember,” he said slowly. “And why are you wearing that awful wig?”
The queen started a sharp retort, and then stopped herself. “It is good to see you again, Kit. It seems to me that there is something important I should remember about you, but I cannot bring it to mind, just at the moment . . . ”
“Would this be a good time to inquire why you were so keen for me to take over as Outsider?” said Kit. “You know I never wanted the responsibility.”
“You never wanted any form of honest endeavour,” the queen said tartly. “Always too busy scribbling, or keeping unfortunate company in the ale houses. My old Outsider was gone, and I needed someone in the position I could trust.”
“You flatter me, Auntie,” said Kit. “Many descriptions have been lobbed in my direction, but trusted was rarely one of them.”
“I had faith in you because you never sought to take advantage of our connection.”
“I knew better than to try,” said Kit. “I like to think I did good work. Like the time I uncovered a shape-shifting Spanish spy, who had taken the face and form of your current favourite so he could get close enough to assassinate you.” He grinned at me. “I burst in on them just in time to prevent an intimate encounter of entirely the wrong kind. I ran him through with only moments to spare.”
“How can I forget?” the queen said coldly. “When you take such delight in constantly reminding me?”
“Then perhaps we could discuss how I put down the terrible death cult of the witch Sycorax,” said Kit. “By proving to her followers that all her powers were nothing more than expertly staged illusions. She tried to run, but her own people dragged her down and tore her apart. In the occult game, you’re only ever as good as your last miracle.”
Elizabeth sniffed loudly. “It takes more than half a dozen followers to qualify as a death cult.”
“Then how about the screaming skulls of Stepney, or the werewolves of Wapping?” said Kit. “As your Outsider, I have stamped out all manner of supernatural threats. All for indifferent pay and no public praise.”
“You would have been tried and executed long ago, boy,” said the queen. “If not for my protection. As an invert, a rabble-rouser, and a Catholic sympathiser!”
Kit bowed to her. “I do thank you for that, Auntie.”
She favoured him with a brief smile. “So you should, boy.”
Kit looked thoughtfully at the queen. “Might I inquire what brought you to this place?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Strange . . . I can’t seem to remember.”
“My memory is also oddly obscured,” said Kit. “But worry not, Gloriana; I will stand between you and all harm.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” said the queen. “But why am I here without my bodyguards? I have enemies everywhere.”
“Only one who could be responsible for our present troubles,” said Kit. “The hero and villain of my greatest triumph: Faust.”
“He’s real?” I said. “Not just a character in a play?”
“Master Shakespeare produced his histories, and I mine,” Kit said coldly. “And just as dear Will shaped his characters to fit the needs and prejudices of his audience, so I gave the groundlings a man they could cheer and hiss. Faust made himself a legend; I just polished his story a little.” He nodded to Elizabeth. “At your instruction, Auntie.”
“I funded master Shakespeare’s histories because I needed them to shape the people’s vision of England,” said the queen. “But our legends shape us too. I wanted Faust’s story better known, as a cautionary tale.”
“So he really was real?” I said. “The man who sold his soul to the Devil, in return for knowledge?”
“Oh, indeed,” said Kit. “Though the character I created was far more interesting than the cold-hearted scholar I was introduced to. A pity I had to abandon him to the Pit at the end, but auntie would have her moral ending.”
“So what really happened to Faust?” I said.
Kit shrugged. “He disappeared. And whether he went to the Devil, or to Spain, no man can say. But now I would wager he has returned, because only Faust could have enough power to hold all of us here.”
I gave Amanda a look. “It’s going to be Merlin again, isn’t it?”
Amanda sniffed loudly. “Not unless something has gone terribly wrong with history while I wasn’t looking.”
“Have you met Faust?”
“She has not,” said a new voice. “Even at my most arrogant and assured, I still knew better than to have anything to do with a creature like her.”
Faust walked unhurriedly out onto the stage. A dark and saturnine presence dressed in blood-red leathers, he had the look of a man with no illusions about life, because he had good reason to know better. He stopped before Amanda in her cage, and looked her over as though contemplating some interesting new specimen. He barely glanced at me, before nodding to Kit and Elizabeth.
Kit arched an elegant eyebrow. “My dear Faust, how is it that thou art out of Hell?”
“You always were too fond of your own words,” said Faust. “Reports of my damnation were greatly exaggerated. Mostly by you.”
“Why would a man like you serve the secret masters?” asked Amanda.
“Why does a man do anything?” said Faust. “Because it profits him.”
“Is that why you sold your soul?” I said.
Faust nodded. “For knowledge and power, and much good they did me.”
“I don’t think I believe in Hell,” I said.
“It believes in you,” said Faust. “Don’t judge me, Outsider. I merely made a bargain, like everyone on this stage. And what happened to me is what happens to all of us, when we bargain with the wrong kind of people.”
“Wasn’t the name Hell a bit of a clue?” I said.
“Where else can you go, when they’re the only game in town?” said Faust.
All my muscles were screaming with pain from being locked in the same awful position for so long, but I was damned if I’d admit it. I kept my voice carefully calm.
“Did you have to make these cages so unpleasant?”
“The secret masters were very specific about the nature of this trap,” said Faust. “They wanted you so troubled and distracted you’d be unable to plan a means of escape. Take it as a compliment, that they see you as so cunning and so dangerous.”
He turned to Kit. “You made your bargain when you turned my life into an entertainment, in return for the queen’s protection. But what in God’s name possessed you to change my name to Faustus? You made me sound like some second rate street conjurer!”
Kit shrugged. “I needed a name with more drama to it.”
“At least I had the courage of my convictions,” said Faust. “What do you believe in, scribbler?”
Kit smiled. “I believe in wine, tobacco, chocolate, and good-looking young men. And, sometimes, the satisfaction to be found in a well-written piece. Enough for any man, I would have thought.”
Faust turned to Elizabeth. “You gave up all hope of love and marriage and family, so you could be queen all your days.”
“I kept England safe by not marrying,” said Elizabeth. “It’s called duty. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You made your bargain, and I made mine,” said Faust. He turned abruptly to face me. “You agreed to assist Amanda, in return for her love. But the joke is on you, Outsider; a creature like her knows nothing of love.”
“You know nothing about her,” I said. “Why did you make your bargain, Faust?”
“I was the Outsider before Kit,” said Faust. “I yearned to understand all the amazing things I uncovered, because I needed something in my life to give it meaning.”
“Most people find that in each other,” said Amanda.
“I never cared for people,” said Faust. “Why should I? They never gave a damn about me.”
“I understand that life as the Outsider can be solitary,” I said. “But it doesn’t have to stay that way. People can always surprise you.”
“That has not been my experience,” said Faust. “I needed something I could believe in, and I found it in the magic that gave me knowledge and power.”
“But did it make you happy?” I said.
“It got me everything I thought I wanted,” said Faust. “But none of it was worth what I paid to get it. So here I am, tired of life but scared of dying because I know what’s waiting for me. That’s why I made a new bargain, with the secret masters. My service in this matter, in return for more years of life.”
“Why choose the Globe as setting for your little drama?” said Kit.
“Because this is one of the few places I remember being happy,” said Faust. “Shakespeare’s plays showed me life as it should be: where love is real and dreams come true. So unlike the grey disappointments of my existence.”
“What about my plays?” said Kit.
Faust barely glanced at him. “Too grim.”
“Has anyone else noticed that we’re not alone here?” I said carefully. “Everything outside this stage has been swallowed up by shadows, and I can hear things moving in the dark.”
Everyone turned to look out from the only island of light in a sea of shadows. The sounds of surreptitious movement came clearly to us, as hidden things pressed up against the other side of the shadow.
“Why didn’t we notice this was happening?” Kit said quietly. His hand had dropped to the sword under his cloak.
“I did,” said Faust.
“Then why didn’t you say something!” said the queen.
“Because for me, the shadows are always full,” said Faust.
“Why are these things here, Faust?” I said quietly.
“To make sure events turn out the way they’re supposed to.”
“For the secret masters?” I said.
“For Hell,” said Faust. “Both sides want you two dealt with, but neither trusts the other.”
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Dealt with?”
“You’re going down,” said Faust. “All the way down. To dwell in the Houses of Pain forever.”
“I won’t let you hurt her,” I said to Faust. And there must have been something in my voice, because everyone turned to look at me.
“How will you stop me?” said Faust. He sounded genuinely interested. “It’s not like you can reach any of your toys.”
I smiled at him, deliberately cold and condescending. “You keep boasting about how powerful you are, Faustus. Show me something. Something real.”
“I have already provided you with two miracles,” said Faust. He gestured at Kit Marlowe and Queen Elizabeth. “Kit died in a pointless duel, and Gloriana was finally allowed to die of old age when the secret masters decided they didn’t need her any more.”
The queen stared in horror at Kit, lines of emotion running so deep in her face they cracked her makeup.
“Oh my dear nephew . . . How could I have forgotten?”
“Now I now why you look so much older,” Kit said quietly. “My dear Gloriana, I honestly thought you’d live forever.” He glared at Faust. “Why bring us back? Did you feel the need for an audience?”
“I wanted someone who would appreciate the drama of the occasion,” said Faust. “And . . . you were the closest things I had to friends.”
Kit looked at him for a moment. “Can’t say I saw that one coming. Really?”
Elizabeth frowned at Faust. “I barely remember you.”
“We met several times,” said Faust.
“I’m sorry,” said the queen. “I meet so many people . . . ”
“Who summoned the winds that sank the Armada’s ships?” Faust said loudly. “Who uncovered your enemies at court, and set them at each other’s throats? I bent the laws of this world to my will, because I believed you were worth defending.” He turned sharply to Kit. “And all those hours we spent talking together, as you turned my story into fable and put wonderful words in my mouth. I never felt so understood, by any man. Your play is a wonder that will survive the ages. Though I could have done without the clowns.”
Kit winced. “The theatre owners insisted.”
“Faust!” I said loudly, and he turned to face me. I smiled on him as kindly as I could. “You didn’t choose this setting on a whim. You came to this theatre to see great stories acted out: heroes and villains, and all the passions of the world writ large. That’s real power, to make something out of nothing, that will survive long after we are gone. Not the petty magics you traded your soul for.”
“I made my bargain,” said Faust. “And I am bound by the terms of it.”
“Are you?” I said. “In this place, people believed they could be better than they are. That villains can be defeated, and everything will turn out right in the end. Imagine yourself a better man, and you will be.”
Faust turned slowly, to look at Kit and Elizabeth.
“I made your life into a story that will never be forgotten,” said Kit.
“Through Shakespeare I created a story of England, for the people to live up to,” said Elizabeth.
“That’s why you brought us here,” said Kit. “Not just as friends, but because you respected what we created.”
“You needed someone you trusted,” said Elizabeth. “To talk you out of this.”
“Hell cheated you,” said Kit. “Be a man; cheat Hell back.”
Faust gestured for them to be silent, and they were.
“This is your chance to be free, at last,” I said.
“How?” said Faust.
And with that one word, everything changed.
“Some bargains were made to be broken,” I said. “In my backpack there’s an athame. A witch knife, that can cut through anything. Take it, and cut your ties to Hell, and the secret masters. Believe in a better Story and be a part of it.”
Faust stretched out his hand, and suddenly he was holding my athame. He smiled briefly at me, and then turned to face the shadows. He looked suddenly taller, and more substantial.
“I defy you. My soul was given to me by God; you have no power over it. No matter how foolish I may have been.”
A roiling crowd of demons burst out of the shadows, and headed straight for the stage. Malign and malformed, they stood like men but had the teeth and claws of animals. Faust sniffed loudly.
“That’s all you’ve got? I think I’m insulted.”
“They’re basing their forms on memories of the groundlings,” said Amanda. “That’s all they have to draw on, as long as I’m here. Can you see them off?”
“They won’t listen to me, and I can’t make them,” said Faust. “You can’t use Hell’s power against Hell’s creatures.”
Kit drew his sword, and moved quietly forward to place himself between Queen Elizabeth and the demons.
“I did promise I would protect you from all harm, Auntie.”
“I never doubted it for a moment,” said the queen.
The first wave of demons scrambled up onto the stage, and Kit laughed happily as he went to meet them. The demons leapt at him like starving wolves, all hate and hunger, and Kit’s sword flashed brightly as he cut and hacked at them. It was one man against an army, but the demons burst into flames and fell apart wherever the glowing blade touched them. Kit threw me a glance.
“Did you think you were the only Outsider to wield an athame?”
More demons surged up onto the stage, and Kit danced lightly among them, cutting throats and piercing hearts with practiced grace and style. He stamped and lunged, always darting back out of reach before the demons could lay hands on him. Burning corpses fell to the stage, already fading away to nothing. But for all his skill and strength and endless courage, still the forces of Hell pressed forward, and step by step Kit Marlowe was forced backwards.
I decided I’d had enough. I’d followed Amanda’s advice, and endured the torments of the cage so I could get a clearer idea of what was going on, but I was damned if I’d let this go any further. I eased my hands into my jacket pockets, ignoring vicious jabs from spikes I couldn’t avoid, and brought out the blessed and cursed knuckle-dusters I’d tucked away earlier. I slipped them on, and then lashed out with my armoured fists. Spikes tore into my arms and blood spurted through the torn leather, but the bars before me cracked and bent and fell apart. I kicked them out of the way, forced myself through the gap, and then lurched out onto the stage, hurting and bloody but free at last. I took a moment to stretch luxuriously, and then strode forward to show the demons what a seriously annoyed Outsider could do.
I waded right into the fight, striking down demons and trampling them underfoot. Impacts from the blows juddered painfully up my wounded arms, but I didn’t give a damn. Up close the demons smelt of blood and sulphur and spoiled milk, and their eyes burned with inhuman malevolence. They came at me with teeth and claws, but after the cage’s spikes, that was nothing. I introduced the demons to my blessed and cursed knuckle-dusters, and it would be hard to say which hurt them the most. I smashed in snarling faces and shattered skulls, punched out hearts and broke spines, and it felt good, so good, to have an enemy I could get my hands on.
I moved in beside Kit, and we both laughed out loud as we fought the good fight, because there wasn’t a demon out of Hell who was any match for two Outsiders with blood in their eyes. A few got past us, but Gloriana produced a long pin from her sleeve and stabbed each demon as it came within reach. They died without a sound, fading away to nothing before they could even fall to the stage.
“Unicorn horn,” said the queen. “Courtesy of Dr. Dee.”
“He always did keep the best toys for himself,” said Kit.
And yet for all the demons we destroyed and sent screaming back to Hell, there never seemed to be any end to them. They just kept boiling out of the shadows and surging up onto the stage, and there was a limit to what even Kit and I could do. We stood back to back as the demons surrounded us, and I could feel the strength going out of my blows. The cage had taken more from me than I realised. But still I threw my armoured punches, and Kit’s blade sliced through demon flesh as though it was nothing more than mist. The demons were pressing in close now, their clawed hands ripping through our clothes. Sometimes I cried out, and sometimes it was Kit, but still we stood our ground and refused to be beaten.
Suddenly, Amanda’s cage exploded. Shards of shattered iron flashed through the air, cutting the demons down like shrapnel, while miraculously missing me and Kit. Amanda stepped lightly out of the wreckage, and brushed herself down.
“I’ve waited long enough. The secret masters aren’t coming, and I have things to do.”
Faust stared at her. “How did you do that?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Like anything in this world could hold me.”
She strode forward, and the surviving demons backed away. I realised with something like awe that even demons out of Hell were afraid of Amanda. They turned abruptly and jumped off the stage, racing back into the shadows. In just a few moments they were gone: an army from Hell routed by one small woman with an implacable gaze. Kit lowered his sword, and I lowered my knuckle-dusters, and we leaned heavily on each other as we shared a tired grin.
Elizabeth looked narrowly at Amanda. “Why were they so scared of you?”
“Because they can see what I really am,” said Amanda. She turned to Faust. “We’ve done all we can; now it’s up to you.”
Faust nodded slowly. “Thank you for buying me time to put my thoughts in order. There’s only one way I can set myself free. Let us hope . . . that one good act pays for many bad ones.”
He thrust the athame into his heart, and fell dead onto the stage. A great howl of thwarted rage rose up from the shadows and suddenly they were gone, leaving the whole of the Globe theatre spread out before us. Kit and Elizabeth moved forward to stand over Faust’s body. They both reached down a hand, and after a moment Faust sat up. He took their hands in his, and they hauled him onto his feet. He smiled at Kit and the queen, and they smiled at him, and then they walked off together, leaving Faust’s body lying on the stage. They faded away before they could reach the wings, and so did the ghost of the Globe, and all that it contained.
Amanda and I stood alone in the open air, in the empty space that once held a theatre. My wounds were healed, my muscles no longer ached, and I just knew my athame was safely back in my pack. I nodded to Amanda.
“Can we move on now?”
“There’s nothing left to keep us here,” said Amanda.
There was something in the way she said that . . . I looked at her carefully.
“Was Faust really strong enough to drag us off course, or did you let it happen, because this was another lesson you wanted me to learn?”
Amanda smiled brightly. “Who can say?”
I sighed, quietly. “Where are we going next?”
“To witness the birth of the scientific age,” said Amanda.
“Well,” I said. “It’s about time.”
“It always was,” said Amanda.