Bone Gods

Carver,” Naughton said. “That arse McCorkle thought he could rob me, and some unfortunate circumstances—they buggered the ritual , not the sacrifice. Well, to be more precise, one circumstance buggered the ritual. His name was Henry, and Henry is no longer with us. Isn’t that right, Sean?”
    Sean gulped. Naughton patted Pete’s cheek. “You have nothing more than some thirdhand Babylonian legends and muttered rumors from a few mages scared of their own shadow. You don’t know, Miss Caldecott. You don’t even comprehend the scope of what’s coming up through the layers of the worlds below ours. What changes he will bring with him. But if you want to survive long enough to take a gander, then you’re going to do as I ask.”
    “Or I could tell you to shove your poncey new world order right in your arse,” Pete said. Naughton considered.
    “I suppose you could.”
    “I think I am.”
    “And I think you simply don’t understand the gravity of our situation,” Naughton said. “Perhaps you and I should go somewhere and have a more private chat.”
    “The serpent winds the world,” Pete said, blurting out Morningstar’s prophecy. Anything to stop Naughton touching her. “The serpent. Whatever it is, that’s what you’re calling. That’s what the reliquary belonged to. That’s what the soul cage is for. It’s not a spirit at all.”
    Naughton narrowed his eyes at her and was quiet long enough to let Pete know she’d touched some kind of nerve. He snapped his fingers like a pistol shot. “Sean.”
    “Yes, guv?”
    “Take Miss Caldecott into the kitchen. She’s so eager to see her fat friend, put her in with him.”
    “Right.” Sean snatched Pete by the arm. “Come on, then.” He dragged her to the walk-in, thrust her inside, and slammed the door. Pete heard a chain clatter through the handle on the other side.
    She patted herself down for her lighter and flicked it open. “Ollie?”
    “Pete?” She felt a hand swat her, and then close around her arm as the flame flared to life. Ollie’s face was drawn and covered in stubble, but he looked healthy, and he grabbed her and gave her a hard squeeze. “Was beginning to think you forgot about me.”
    “Never,” Pete said, thumping him on the back. “Who’d be around to eat half of my curry and harangue me that magic isn’t real if I let you kick off?”
    Ollie’d been untied, but the spindleback chair was still the only furniture in the old freezer. The rest was full of boxes, musty and old as the hills, and Heath settled on the ground, his back against them. “Fuck me. Been sleeping on this floor for a decade, feels like.”
    Pete took a seat next to him, careful to keep the lighter from the rat-gnawed cardboard. “I’m sorry. I really hoped this would be a rescue.”
    He patted her knee. “Shit rescue, but it’s all right, Caldecott. Sooner or later that stiff bastard Patel will notice I’m not around for him to shout questions at, and he’ll send some plods looking for me.”
    “We might not last that long,” Pete said. “Not that Naughton’s going to off us, but London might not be in the same shape by the time Patel catches on.”
    “Fuck me, you’re a ray of bloody sunshine, aren’t you?” Ollie grumbled.
    Pete fingered her pack of Parliaments and found it was empty. “They been treating you all right?”
    “Aside from cramming me in this rat-infested shit trap? It’s been like a weekend in Blackpool,” Ollie said. “At least the takeaway that cunt-faced wanker Sean brings in isn’t too dodgy.”
    “Sounds better than my day thus far.” Pete flung the empty pack into a corner.
    “What about your boy Winter?” Ollie said. “Setting aside for a moment his trick act of showing up alive. Any chance he’ll be making a grand entrance?”
    The mention of Jack forced a few tears from Pete’s eyes, unexpected and hot as fresh blood. “Jack and I aren’t together right now, Ollie. Not about all this.”
    “Always said that bloke was miles beneath you.” Ollie sniffed. “You two have a falling out?”
    “He’s a fucking liar,” Pete said. “I don’t want to talk about Jack, Ollie.” She shut the lighter since it was just the two of them and some junk in the dark, not worth wasting fluid on.
    “Should we plot and scheme on how to bust out, then?” Ollie asked. “Or do you want to tell me what ridiculous bit of Doctor Who shenanigans that pasty lot out there is up to?”
    “Necromancers,” Pete