As he turned around, Simon noted that even the Templar looked relieved. No expression showed on their faceplates, but their body language revealed it.
“They don’t come alone,” Giselle whispered. “That’s one thing you can always count on.”
They skirted the vending machines, which had long since been emptied, and the bodies. Simon grimaced when he saw that the corpses had been robbed. He doubted that the demons would have any use for human money, but he supposed there might have been some purpose for wanting personal possessions.
The Elephant and Castle station didn’t have an escalator. They took the steps down to the underground rail.
Over half of London’s tube system was aboveground. The rest of it was buried in the underground. There were two different levels of underground rail. The subsurface tubes were constructed using the cut-and-cover method, by digging a fifteen-foot trench into the earth, then covering it with concrete.
The Elephant and Castle station connected to the Bakerloo Line, which was one of the first to be constructed as a deep-level line. It had been bored using a tunneling shield and ran sixty feet underground for the most part. Except for when it nipped back to level ground here and there. Cut stone and iron rings framed the narrow tube line. Deep-level lines were smaller than subsurface lines, and they used smaller trains.
The Templar made their way around in the dark easily with their infrared imaging, but Simon couldn’t see much. He didn’t like having to rely on them to guide him, but he knew using the flash in his pack would give away their position. His imagination kept seeing demons that reached for him out of the darkness all around them.
“Place your hand on my shoulder,” Giselle said.
Simon found her after a moment and did as she suggested. He still stumbled over debris and bumped up against train cars that didn’t seem to quite be on the tracks.
“What about the electricity through the tracks?” Simon asked.
“All the grids are down inside the city. The power stations were some of the early targets the demons took down.”
Simon didn’t ask where they were going. He already knew, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Only a few minutes later, Giselle stopped. Simon felt her shift and knew that she was reaching over her head. A purple light glowed briefly in the palm of her mailed fist.
Then a section of the wall slid away. Simon couldn’t actually see it happen in the darkness, but he knew from experience what the terrible grinding noise was. He felt Giselle start forward, so he followed her.
A moment later, Giselle halted. The massive wall section behind them slid shut with a hollow boom.
“Speak your name,” a mechanical voice challenged.
Simon heard Giselle’s helmet flare open in the claustrophobic quiet of the room where they stood. He removed his hand from her shoulder. They were in one of the hidden checkpoints leading to the London Underground—the secret Underground that no one but Templar knew about.
When the city planners had first begun building the Underground as a means of travel under the city after so many of the people moved from the farms and the rural lands, Templar had been inside their organizations. The Templar had sworn to always protect the land and the city because their prophecies had shown that London would one day be in danger.
With their numbers hidden, the Templar had worked on projects throughout the city, establishing beachheads they could use in their eventual war against the demons. Even now, the work continued, as they hollowed out more and more space underneath London.
“I am Giselle Fletcher, Sergeant of the House of Connelly.” Her voice was clear and proud.
Sergeant? Simon thought, remembering that Giselle was the same age he was. Then he realized that with all the deaths at St. Paul’s Cathedral, field promotions had come rapidly. And there was the possibility that Giselle had made sergeant while he was gone. She’d always been ambitious, her eyes constantly on the prize.
“Welcome home, Sergeant Fletcher. Do you require anything?”
“I’ve got two wounded. They need treatment.”
“Of course. You also have two unauthorized personnel with you.”
That hurt Simon a little. He knew when he’d left two years ago that the Templar Underground would be closed off to him. At the time he’d departed, he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t thought he would ever care again.
But he did. A little. He walled that part of himself off and refused to be vulnerable. Templar were trained to seek out weaknesses in their opponents. At the moment he knew he was going to be viewed as one of their enemy.
“One is Simon Cross,” Giselle said.
“We knew that. He’s not—”
“He’s here as my guest,” Giselle said with an edge to her voice that immediately caught Simon’s attention. “As is the woman with him. I claim that right.”
“You may speak to the proper authorities regarding that matter, Sergeant Fletcher. Please come ahead.”
The wall in front of them suddenly parted. High-intensity lights flooded the checkpoint, stabbing into Simon’s eyes like daggers. He covered his eyes with one hand, but he kept his other one free—in case he was attacked. He had no reason to believe he was safe.
Giselle started forward and Simon followed automatically. The lights were still bright enough to be blinding. There was nowhere to hide.
Twenty
W hat have you done to Kelli?”
The angry voice woke Warren. He cracked his eyes open and blinked against the light, raising his right hand to ward it off. Someone had moved the curtain over his window.
“Did you hear me, Warren?”
Moving gingerly, Warren rolled over on his side. He was still dressed, almost, in the burned remnants of his clothing. He hadn’t wanted to face pulling his clothing off, fearful that so much skin and flesh would come off with it.
George stood at the opening, a cricket bat in his hands. He was tall and athletic, fair-haired and blue-eyed. He belonged to
