Necropolis

waiting for her round the next corner.

But then she arrived at an observation point where the vegetation had been cut back and Hong Kong appeared, sprawled out below. It was incredible to see so many skyscrapers packed together on both sides of the water. There were hundreds of them, every shape and size, made small and insignificant by the distance – with thousands or even millions of people invisible among them.

Mrs Cheng plodded along behind, saying nothing. Her face was sullen, her hands – loosely curled into fists – hung by her side. Scarlett was quietly amused. Her guardian clearly wasn’t enjoying the visit. She wasn’t even bothering to glance at the view.

A couple of people walked past them… a woman pushing an old-fashioned pram and a man, jogging. The man was wearing a blue tracksuit and his face was covered by an anti-pollution mask, with only his eyes showing above the white square. Scarlett tensed as each one of them approached. She was waiting for someone to make contact. But neither of them so much as noticed her, both continuing on their way.

They walked for another five minutes, still following the path which curved round the side of The Peak.

“I think we should go back, Scarlett,” Mrs Cheng said.

“But it’s a circular walk,” Scarlett protested. “If we keep going, we’ll find ourselves back anyway.”

Three more walkers appeared ahead of them: two men and a woman, all Chinese. They were dressed in much the same way with jeans, zip-up jackets and walking shoes. One of the men had a walking stick although he looked young and fit and surely didn’t need it. The other man carried a backpack. He was in his thirties, with glasses and a pock-marked face. The two of them were chatting. The woman – she was slim and athletic, her long hair tied back with a pink band – was listening to an iPod. As they drew nearer, they showed no interest in Scarlett at all.

The three of them drew level.

“Scarlett…” Mrs Cheng began.

She never finished the sentence. The man with the backpack reached behind him and drew out something that was flat and silver. It was a move that he must have rehearsed many times. To Scarlett’s eyes, it was as if he had suddenly produced an oversized kitchen knife. Then she realized what it was. A machete. The blade was about half a metre long and razor-sharp. At the same time, the other man twisted the handle of his walking stick, revealing the sword that had been concealed inside. Scarlett saw the glint of metal and heard it slice the air as he pulled it free. The woman wasn’t armed. She was looking behind her, checking the path was clear.

Both men plunged their weapons into Audrey Cheng. The Chinese woman screamed – but there was nothing remotely human about the sound. It was a high-pitched howl, almost deafening. Scarlett stared in horror. Her face was unrecognizable, her mouth stretched open in a terrible grimace. Blood was pouring in a torrent over her lower lip. Her eyes had clouded over. She hadn’t had time to defend herself or react in any way. Scarlett saw her neck open as if it was hinged and she looked away. She heard the thud as Mrs Cheng’s severed head hit the ground. She knew that it was a sound that she would never forget.

The woman ran forward and put an arm around her, comforting her. Some of Mrs Cheng’s blood had splattered onto her. There were flecks of it on her jacket. The very air had gone a hazy red.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Scarlett,” she said, in perfect English. “Don’t look round. We had to do it. There was no other way.”

“You killed her!” Scarlett was in shock. She had never liked Mrs Cheng but she couldn’t believe what she had just seen. These people hadn’t given her a chance to defend herself. They had murdered her in cold blood.

“Not her. It.”

Scarlett stared. “What do you mean?”

“Show her!” one of the men snarled.

“We’re your friends,” the woman said. “We sent you the message with the fortune-teller. We’ve come to help you and, believe me, there was no other way.” She placed her hands on Scarlett’s shoulder. “Turn round and have a look for yourself,” she went on. “The woman isn’t what you think. She’s a shape-changer. We’ll show you, but then you have to come with us. They’ll know what’s happened. They’ll have heard her. We don’t have much time…”

Scarlett turned round. The man with the sword-stick was already sheathing it. The other was wiping his machete on a piece of cloth. She swallowed hard, not wanting to do this. There was a lot of blood, spreading across the path.

Mrs Cheng was lying on her back, the legs in their black stockings lying straight out in front of her. There was a dreadful wound in her chest where one of the blades had stabbed her through the heart. The other had decapitated her. Scarlett forced herself to examine the rest of the body. She saw something thick and green coming out of the jacket where Mrs Cheng’s neck should have been. It had been severed half way up. But it didn’t belong to a human body. It looked like part of a snake.

And the head, lying on the path, wasn’t human either. It was the head of an oversized lizard, with yellow and black diamond eyes, scales, a lolling forked tongue. Scarlett glanced back at the body. Mrs Cheng had thrown out one of her arms as she fell. It was also covered in scales.

A shape-changer.

That was what they had said. And in the shock of the moment, all Scarlett could think was – was this the creature she had been living with since she had come to Hong Kong? Audrey Cheng had cooked for her. She had been sleeping in the same flat. And all the time…

She thought she was going to be sick. She couldn’t get the hideous images out of her head. But then she heard the sound of an approaching engine, coming down the path towards her. Had they been discovered? The woman and the two men weren’t moving. They didn’t look alarmed. Scarlett relaxed. Whoever was coming was part of the plan.

A motorbike appeared, speeding round the corner. It was a silver-grey Honda, being ridden by a figure in black leather, gloves and boots. Scarlett guessed that it was a man, but it was hard to be sure as his head was concealed by a helmet with a strip of mirrored plastic across his face. He stopped right in front of them, the wheels tilting underneath him, one leg stretching out to keep the bike upright.

The woman grabbed hold of Scarlett once again. “We need to get you out of here fast,” she said. “We don’t have time to explain.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

They had produced a second helmet. Scarlett hesitated, but only for a few seconds. Audrey Cheng’s dead body told her everything she needed to know. She had been living in a nightmare and these people, whoever they were, were rescuing her from it. She grabbed the helmet and put it on, then climbed onto the bike, putting her arms around the driver. At once they were away. She felt the engine roar underneath her as they shot down the path and she tightened her grip, afraid that she would be blown over backwards by the rush of wind.

They shot past a man walking a dog and then a family of local people who had been posing for a photograph but who scattered to get out of the way. They turned another corner. If they went much further, they would surely arrive back at the tram station where Scarlett had begun. On one side there was a small park, on the other a driveway leading up to a house, for there were a few private homes scattered along the upper reaches of The Peak. But that wasn’t where they were heading. Scarlett saw a parked car with two more men waiting. They skidded to a halt.

She got off, quickly removing her helmet. The two men were young, in their twenties, both wearing jeans and sweatshirts. One was Chinese but the other was a foreigner, maybe from Japan or Korea. They both hurried over to her, their faces filled with a mixture of determination and fear.

“You have to come with us,” the first one said. He had a thin face and his nose and cheekbones were so sharp-edged that they could almost have been folded out of paper. “We must leave at once.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.” That was exactly what the woman had said. “Not far. Maybe twenty minutes.”

“Wait a minute…”

“No time.” He spoke in fractured English, spitting out the words. “You want to die, you stay here. You ask your questions. You want to live, get in the car. Now! They will be coming very soon.”

“Who will be coming?”

“Shape-changers. Or worse.”

The other man had gone over to the car. But he hadn’t opened the door. He had opened the boot.