in lateral thinking. Which I would have found worrying if I'd had the time, but I didn't. I could feel the freezing cold rushing through the open door. I grabbed Molly by the hand, and we rushed through the door, back into the freezing Antarctic air.
I armoured up, and Molly raised her shields. I couldn't help noticing they didn't look as strong and certain as they had before. The Apocalypse Door was standing firmly upright, in a circle of steaming melted snow. Methuselah stood before the Door, holding up the awful Hand of Glory he'd made from the severed hand of an angel. The dead white skin glowed fiercely, brighter than the sun itself, and as the Immortal chanted something in a tongue so old I didn't even recognise it, the candles made from the Hand's fingers ignited one by one. Somehow I found the time to wonder whether that was the language the Immortal had originally spoken, when he bargained with the Heart for eternal life.
'Where the hell did the Hand come from?' said Molly. 'He didn't have it before. I would have noticed.'
'He must have a subspace pocket, like me,' I said.
'Oh, I want one of those…'
Methuselah let go of the Hand and backed away, and the brightly shining Hand hung on the air before the Door. Its fingers moved slowly, flexing through a series of mystical gestures, significant and compelling. It hurt just to watch them, as though they were moving through more than three dimensions.
'He's preprogrammed the bloody thing!' said Molly. 'All he has to do now is say the right Words, and it's all over! From the Apocalypse Door to the Paradise Door, in a series of easy gestures. I think I'll believe that when I see it, but… Look; you take the Immortal, I'll take the Hand. I don't care what it's made from, it's magic, and that puts it in my territory. If it's magic, I can work my will on it. That's what being a witch is all about.'
'Who are you trying to convince?' I said. 'You or me? Just how much magic do you have left, after everything you've done?'
'Enough! Now be a good boy, and go hit the Immortal.'
'Love to.'
Molly charged forward, skipping lightly over the snow as though she was playing hopscotch. She grabbed the gesturing Hand of Glory with both of her hands, and tried to stop the fingers from moving. When that failed, she tried to pull the Hand away from the Door, but it wouldn't budge so much as an inch. So she forced one of her hands inside the Hand, and arm-wrestled it. The brightly glowing Hand slammed shut, crushing Molly's hand inside it. I heard the bones crack and break, saw blood fly on the air; but although Molly's whole body convulsed, she never made a sound.
I charged forward, ploughing through the deep snow and sending it flying. The Hand of Glory slowly opened, and Molly fell to her knees on the snow, cradling her injured hand against her chest. Blood dripped steadily from her broken fingers, onto the accepting snow. I could hear Methuselah laughing. I moved quickly to put myself between Molly and the Hand, and knelt down beside her. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide with shock and pain. She hadn't healed herself, and that told me all I needed to know about how much magic she had left.
Molly glared at me. 'All right, you deal with the Hand. I'll deal with Methuselah.'
'Works for me,' I said.
I heard heavy footsteps slamming through the snow, and looked round to see the Immortal coming right at us, wielding a glowing blade he hadn't had earlier. Molly raised her good hand, and snapped her fingers fiercely. But though Methuselah flinched at the sound, it didn't stop him. Either Molly had used up all her magic, or as an Immortal and a flesh dancer, he was immune. Either way, he was a lot closer now. So I rose up and went to meet him. I lashed out at him with a golden fist, but somehow he dodged it at the last moment. And while I was caught off balance, he lunged past me and ran on. It took me a moment to turn around in the heavy snow, and when I did, it was just in time to see Methuselah run Molly through with the glowing blade. It slammed in under her sternum, and punched out her back. Blood shot out of her contorted mouth. And then she grabbed the Immortal's extended arm with both her hands, and broke it in two. The sound of the bone breaking was sharp and crisp on the still air. Methuselah screamed, and fell backwards into the snow. Molly grabbed the glowing blade, pulled it carefully out of her, and threw it away. She looked up to see me watching, and glared at me.
'How many times do I have to tell you? He can't kill me! Now deal with the bloody Hand!'
Methuselah clutched his broken arm and gaped at Molly. 'Cheat!' he said shrilly. 'You're all cheats!'
I ran through the snow towards him, and he scrambled back onto his feet again. His arm wasn't broken anymore; the wonders of flesh dancing. He still backed away rather than face me. I knew I should be going after the Hand, but he'd tried to kill Molly. I hit him in the face with my golden fist, with all my strength behind it. The bones of his face collapsed inwards, and blood exploded out, steaming on the cold air. He didn't fall, so I hit him again and again, until finally he did fall, into the blood-soaked snow. He glared up at me, eyes shining fiercely through the bloody mess I'd made of his face.
'It's not fair! I've won, I've won! Look at the Door, you see? You're too late! My Hand has done it!'
I turned and looked. The Door didn't seem any different. Methuselah seized the moment to scramble back onto his feet, and run raggedly towards the Door. I went after him. And the Hand of Glory drifted slowly, almost thoughtfully, forward; and then knocked three times on the Door. The sound was impossibly loud, and carrying, reverberating on the air. And then the Hand closed, and fell out of the air like a dead bird. The Door started to open. It didn't actually move, as such, but I could feel it opening. I put on a burst of speed, and ran right past Methuselah, sending snow flying in every direction. I slammed up against the Door, and put my golden shoulder against it. I dug my feet in, and strained against the Door with all my armoured strength. I could feel a growing pressure on the other side of the Door. None of the disturbing heat, or the voices Doctor Delirium had heard, just an increasing sense of pressure. Of something on the other side, moving slowly, relentlessly closer. Wanting out. I threw all my weight, all my strength, against the Door. I was a Drood, shaman to Humanity, and I would hold against all the hoards of Hell, or die trying.
And then Methuselah called my name. I looked around, and he was back with Molly. Only this time, he had the glowing blade pressed against her throat. He was grinning broadly, his eyes wide and no longer entirely sane.
'Get away from the Door!' he yelled. 'Even a witch will die, if you cut off her head! Doesn't matter where she keeps her heart then, does it? Get away from my Door, or watch your witch die, right in front of you.'
'She wouldn't want me to do that,' I said.
'Yes I bloody would!' said Molly. 'It's all right, Eddie. Do as he says.'
'What?'
'Trust me, Eddie. You can't stop the Door opening. So let Methuselah have what he wants.'
There was something in the way she said that. I looked at her closely, and she dropped me the briefest of winks. Okay, I thought, she must know something… So I pushed myself away from the Door, and backed away from it. Methuselah waited till I was a safe distance away, and then headed for the Door, dragging Molly along with him, the blade still pressed against her throat. He hesitated by the Door, clearly wondering if he could cut Molly's throat and get away with it, but in the end he just threw her face forward into the snow, grabbed up the fallen Hand of Glory, and pronounced one final, irrevocable Word. I ran forward, grabbed Molly, and hauled her away from the Door. She struggled fiercely in my arms, so I put her down, and we both turned to look at the Door.
'I've done it!' yelled Methuselah, dancing hysterically before the Door. 'I've turned it, I've transformed its nature, it's the Paradise Door now! I will take Heaven by storm, and know pleasures beyond bearing! Paradise is mine!'
The Door opened, just the slightest crack, and a brilliant light blasted out, so pure and blindingly brilliant that Molly and I both cried out, wanting to turn our gaze away but held where we were. The light incinerated Methuselah where he stood, reducing him to ashes in a moment. The Door closed, and all that was left of the Immortal was a few final ashes, spiralling slowly to the snow below. And then the Door just disappeared, turning in a direction my eyes could not follow-gone forever, leaving nothing behind but the crater of steaming water it had been standing in.
'Well,' I said finally. 'The light of Heaven is not for mortals. And… somebody really doesn't like gate- crashers.'
