Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper (24 page)

As he ran at Loki, Arthur grabbed for the nearest thing at hand: a dinner plate from one of the tables. The meal was half eaten and most of the food was still stuck to it as he Frisbeed it right at the Father of Lies' face. Loki put an arm up and the plate exploded against his elbow, throwing some brown-coloured sauce into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. When he had scraped it away he looked around, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen. He was about to call out to him when he noticed the boy's legs disappearing under one of the tables beside him.

Arthur didn't know if his plan would work. He wasn't even sure it was a proper plan. There was certainly no strategy involved, despite the confidence he'd shown only seconds before. His goal was simple – to reach Hel. If he managed that, then he might be able to wake her up. Or, rather, he hoped he'd be able to wake his mother up. She was the only one with the power to make things right again.

Suddenly Loki was standing over him. He had the table in one hand, lifting it high. Arthur saw the fingers let go just in time to roll out of the way, as the table smashed back down onto the hard tiles, its legs collapsing and its top crashing to the floor, sending splinters and cutlery flying everywhere. The god threw back his head and laughed crazily, while Arthur threw himself under another table.

‘Oh, I am having fun,' said Loki, gleefully eyeing his prey. ‘Ready for round two?'

Ash was reaching the halfway point. After freeing Joe, she got Stace out, who held her in a tight embrace. Following a few too many seconds of it, Ash pushed her away and moved on to the next stock. The first key she tried on the next padlock turned instantly and a tall, powerful-looking man with bushy black hair and a beard reared out of his stocks. He was probably Fenrir, Ash guessed, remembering the story Arthur had told her about the other reality. Next to him was the only girl she didn't recognise, but she knew her name – Ellie Lavender.

Those already freed went to work on the rest of the stocks, pushing and pulling at the padlocks, trying to break them. But Ash knew it wouldn't be as easy as that; Loki's magic would ensure that only her keys could free them. The pendulous blade was dangerously close now and Ash could see dark smudges of dried blood on its edge. Finally, with a click, Ellie's lock opened and Ash moved on to her mom, keeping one finger on the used keys as ever.

With a flick of Loki's wrist, the second table was flung aside. But Arthur was already moving. While Loki was throwing the table, Arthur grabbed the edge of a tablecloth from the nearby wreckage and hurled it over the god. He tackled Loki and the two of them sprawled to the floor. As the god roared with frustration and tried to wrestle the tablecloth away, Arthur had already pushed himself to his feet and fixed his attention back on Hel. He turned towards the throne once more, but found himself tugged back violently as Loki shot an arm out from under the tablecloth, grabbing his ankle. Losing his footing, Arthur fell forward towards the hard floor and only avoided serious head trauma by throwing out his hands at the last instant. He struggled to break the god's grip, kicking desperately while using his arms to try and scrabble forwards. But the tablecloth was melting from the god and he was able to reach out and grab Arthur with both arms now. He flipped the boy over and pulled him so close to his face that Arthur could smell boar meat on his breath.

‘Oh, Arthur, don't you know we're not playing “chase”,' he spat. ‘We're playing “pummel-Arthur-Quinn-to-a-bloody-pulp”!'

The last prisoner in the line of stocks was Max. By the time Ash reached him, the blade was so low she had to duck for fear it would cut her and she could feel the disturbance of it in the air. She'd been ignoring the noise of Loki and Arthur's battle as much as possible, concentrating instead on freeing the prisoners. But then, without warning, a single agonising, piercing scream broke through her focus. The keys slipped from her hand and clattered onto the tiles.

‘
No!
' she cried in anguish, picking them back up. She couldn't remember which keys she'd used. There had only been one more brass key, which would surely have opened Max's padlock. But now she had to go through all eight again. And the blade was swinging so low that the very swish of it was deafening and the hair on Max's head stirred as it passed.

Suddenly Fenrir stepped to the side of the stocks, reached up and grabbed the blade in two massive fists as it reached the end of its arc. Using all his strength he managed to force the blade to a stop as it descended – but only just – and the steel sliced through the flesh of his palm as he held it steady. Ash looked up at him gratefully – any extra seconds would help – but his face was red with exertion and she could see the blade shuddering in his grasp as if it was desperate to continue its pendulous plummet. She realised he couldn't hold it for long.

She turned back to the lock. They were almost out of time.

Loki smacked one hand hard across Arthur's cheek, his needle-sharp nails tearing deep into the flesh. Not only could Arthur feel the slivers of skin ripping: he could hear them. The sound was almost as bad as the pain itself, and he screamed in agony. He didn't want to do it, didn't want to show any weakness in front of Loki, didn't want to give him the pleasure. But he couldn't help it. The scream burst from his lungs involuntarily.

The Father of Lies laughed. ‘Now, this game is
way
more fun!'

He stood and flung the boy high into the air. Arthur felt like a rag doll being tossed about and he could almost touch one of the chandeliers before he started to fall, hurtling back towards the hard floor, spinning dizzyingly. The tiles rose to meet him rapidly and he could see his terrible fate coming; he'd smash into the ground and either be instantly paralysed or instantly dead. Then, as he plummeted down, Loki casually pulled back his arm and thrust it forward, catching Arthur in the stomach and sending him soaring across the hall.

The last key! Ash had tried all the others before she heard the reassuring click of the lock. Fenrir was gritting his teeth as he strained to keep the blade in place and a trickle of dark blood ran down between his fingers. The blade was so low that they couldn't throw the top part of the stocks open fully, but she managed to lift it part way and Max squeezed his head and hands through the gap. As soon as he fell free, landing on his backside with a thump, the stocks and the blade disappeared with a green flash.

Ash turned in time to see Loki approaching Arthur. The boy was slumped against the side wall, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as if caught in a dream – or a nightmare. Without giving it a moment's thought, she rushed into the narrowing gap between her friend and the god, and faced Loki.

He stopped and smirked maliciously at her.

‘Do you really think you can save him, Ash?'

‘Not alone, she can't.'

Whoever had spoken laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked around to see Joe standing there, glaring at Loki. Max appeared to take her left hand and Ellie took her right. Then Ex, Stace, Fenrir and her parents clustered in behind her, hiding Arthur from the Father of Lies.

Loki's grin grew wider.

‘All right,' he said, taking a step back. ‘We'll do it your way.' He clapped his hands.

Instantly, the throne room vanished. The walls, the tiled floor, the chandeliers, the banquet tables, even the massive throne itself, all crumbled and floated away like ash. They were standing in the middle of a battlefield. Grey, churned earth stretched away in every direction with rubble, broken weapons and discarded army uniforms strewn all over. There were blackened and burnt trees in one direction, rolling mounds of mud in another. The sky was a matching charcoal, black clouds on the horizon threatening rain. There was no sign of life anywhere, no buildings peppering the landscape, no soldiers to fight whatever war had wrought such destruction.

Except that we're the soldiers, thought Ash, as she looked around. We're the ones who have to fight.

Even the atmosphere was lifeless; there was a church-like silence, waiting to be broken at any second. Hel was still floating in her vortex, a few hundred yards away.

‘He's gone,' murmured Ellie.

Instinctively, Ash whipped around to check on Arthur, but he was still there and still unconscious. Ellie hadn't meant him. She had meant Loki. Loki was gone.

As if on cue, they heard a buzzing in the distance. It was barely audible at first but deep enough for Ash to identify it as an engine. She'd come to recognise the sound after months of keeping her ears pricked for similar noises in the flooded Dublin. It was an engine. And it was getting closer.

‘There,' said the tall boy, who had to be Ex Lavender, pointing a long finger towards the horizon.

A dark smudge hovered over the battlefield, getting nearer and larger with each passing second.

‘Run,' said Ash, her voice lower than she intended.

‘What?' someone asked; her mother, she thought.

‘I said
run
!'