Ted surprised himself by speaking in Sorrow’s defence. “He fought amongst us today when the demons came. He was one of us.”
Tosco sighed, clearly unconvinced.
“It’s just a shock,” said Maddy, “but it was a demon who came to Portsmouth to tell us about some of our people being in danger. Angela’s right, they’re not all bad.”
“I suppose they’re just like people,” said Damien. “The weak get manipulated by those in power.”
“Lord Amon,” said Ted, “was a fallen angel that came out of the lake, and he’s out there somewhere, controlling the demons. We need to be ready. This won’t be the last time we have to defend ourselves.”
“We’ll get started on more arrows,” said Damien. “This battle used up a big part of our ammo. There’s still some left in the crates, but it’ll go fast.”
“My ship has a supply,” said Tosco, “but again, it won’t last forever. I’ll bring them back when I take Nancy to her daughter.”
Ted shook his head. “You can’t go. It would be stupid now that we’re under attack.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.” Tosco turned and pointed up at the wooden firing platform above the stone walls. Nancy stood there amongst the spectators. There were tears in her eyes, but also determination.
“There are only a couple of things that scare me,” said Damien, “and Nancy’s one of them. If I were you, Ted, I’d let her go.”
“It’s suicide.”
“I hate to say it,” said Tosco, “but it might be necessary. If you want the men and supplies from The Hatchet, I need to go get them. Give us all the vehicles you can spare and I’ll set off immediately. This is probably only the first wave – sent to test our defences – which means we might get a short reprieve before more come.”
Ted didn’t like it, but the truth was he didn’t have the right to tell any of these people what to do. If Nancy wanted to risk her life reuniting with her daughter, then that was her decision. Maybe he didn’t even blame her. “Okay,” he said, slamming his sledgehammer into the skull of a half-alive demon. “You can all leave, but I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to find your way back inside. In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war.”
A demon leapt up off the ground and raced towards the group. Angela stepped in its path and raised a hand. She mumbled something incomprehensible and the demon exploded.
Ted wiped blood from his face and gawped. “W-What the hell did you just do?”
Angela had blood all over her too, but she seemed amused as she gave a shrug. “That’s what you might call a pro-vicar move.”
Sorrow flapped his wings, shedding chunks of demon meat. “This pleases me.”
Ted nodded. “Yeah, it pleases me too.”
Tony regretted his decision more with every step. He’d placed his life in the hands of men who had already tried to kill him. If Thomas put them under the slightest of pressure, they would betray him again – there was no doubt. Once Thomas knew Mass was still alive, he would put a bullet in Tony’s head. The only thing keeping Tony moving ever closer to his own end was the fact that he couldn’t do anything differently. As much as he regretted his foolish decision, he would regret executing nine unarmed men more. If this was his time to die, perhaps he could do so with a soul slightly less tarnished.
Maybe it’s enough to earn a little peace. If such a thing even exists.
Not wanting to encounter the demons on the road, Tony’s team had taken a sweeping curve through the countryside. One of the men had grown up locally and kept them from becoming lost as they skirted the odd village and highway-adjacent retail park. Eventually they found themselves only a handful of miles north-west of Portsmouth, but it didn’t make Tony feel any better. That demon horde was out there somewhere with a giant beast lashing them onward. Portsmouth wasn’t safe any more, and he pictured the city in flames. It might already be gone.
As it turned out, they never made it there, because Portsmouth came to them. Half the city had seemingly taken to the road on foot, fully armed and in good spirits. Tony heard chit-chat and singing, the odd gunshot, and the endless beating of boots on the ground. He even spotted horses.
One of Tony’s men spoke, a corporal named Dendoncker. “General Thomas is leading them from the front. What the fuck’s going on?”
Tony knew what was going on, because he knew the general. “Thomas is marching us to war.”
“But we’re safer at Portsmouth. They’re going to march right into the demon army we saw on the road.”
“Thomas doesn’t know about that. He thinks there’s nothing left out here but stragglers and weaklings. Damn it, the fool. He should’ve set up a forward base before moving everyone like this. He’s so arrogant, he expects to mow the enemy down without breaking a sweat.”
Dendoncker looked mortified, and he suddenly exposed himself for the young man he was. “W-We have to warn him.”
Tony nodded. “We will. Okay, men, double-time. Keep your weapons pointed at the ground and put a hand in the air. Let’s not get ourselves shot.”
A mile existed between them and the army, and if not for Tony’s group coming from higher ground, they might not have even spotted the large mass of men marching briskly along what must have been the M27. Vehicles clogged the road in places, but the hard shoulder and the central reservation offered room for manoeuvre where the road became blocked. When the demons had first invaded, even the oldest of bangers kept in lock-ups had returned to service as people sought safety. The punchline was that there hadn’t been any to get to.
As Tony led his men downwards through the fields, something occurred to him. As with most of the country’s
