Necropolis

bleeding and…" He stopped and took a deep breath.
    "She's not in any pain. The doctor's seen to that. But there's nothing more we can do for her. Do you want me to come in with you?"
    "No…" Matt went into the study.
    Joanna Chambers was lying on the daybed that she liked to use as a place to think when she was working. As usual, her desk was completely covered in papers along with a bottle of brandy and a box of her favorite cigars. The old-fashioned radio that she liked to listen to was next to her computer, but it was turned off. Somehow that made Matt sadder than anything else, the thought that she would never listen to it again.
    She was still in her dressing gown, but someone had drawn a blanket over her legs and chest. There was only one light on, and it was burning low, casting a soft glow across the room.
    He thought she was asleep, but as he closed the door, she looked up. "Matt…?"
    He went over to her. "The ambulance is on its way," he muttered. "The doctor says —"
    "Don't tell me any stuff and nonsense," she cut in, and just for a moment she sounded exactly like her old self. "There's nothing they can do for me, and anyway I'm not going into any local hospital. Dreadful place." She tried to shift her position, but she didn't have the strength. "Come and sit next to me."
    Matt did as he was told. His eyes were stinging and there was an ache in his throat. Why did it have to happen like this? Why couldn't she be all right? He remembered Professor Chambers as he had first seen her, piloting her own plane. She had worked out the secret of the Nazca Lines, and she had been with him, in the middle of the desert, when they were attacked by the condors. He knew that without her, he would never have located the second gate. And since then, she had looked after them, never once complaining as her house was invaded and her work interrupted.
    Matt had used his power to protect himself. Why hadn't he been able to do the same for her?
    "Now you listen to me," she said. She found his hand and clasped it. "You mustn't be upset about me.
    You have a very great responsibility, Matt. I don't think you have any idea yet what is going to be asked of you. And how old are you? Fifteen! It's not fair…"

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, fighting for breath.
    "The Old Ones will be beaten," she said. "Ever since the world began, there's always been good and evil, and somehow good's managed to muddle through. You'll see. It may not be easy. What happened today…silly, really. We should have known they would come."
    She let go of his hand. She couldn't manage very much more.
    "That's what I wanted to tell you," she said. Her voice was fading away. "I'm so glad I met you, really.
    I'm glad we had our time here. I've always loved this place, always been happy here…"
    She pointed at the door with one finger, telling him to leave her. Matt did as she said. Richard was waiting for him outside.

    The ambulance arrived ten minutes later. But it was too late. Professor Chambers was already dead.
    TEN
    Council of War
    Matt woke up with the smell of burnt wood in his nostrils and the taste of it in his mouth. He had slept for about two hours, but he might as well not have bothered. Even before he got out of bed, he knew that he was as tired as he had been when he got into it.
    He'd had to share with Pedro. His own room had been destroyed by the fire, along with everything inside it — and it was only as he opened his eyes the following morning that he realized exactly what that meant. He no longer had a passport. He wasn't going to be traveling anywhere today, certainly not on a commercial flight — and that must have been just what the attack had set out to achieve. The Old Ones didn't want him arriving in London. They didn't want him anywhere near Scarlett Adams. And although there were policemen and private detectives looking out for her, she was completely isolated. One in England. Four in Peru. It certainly didn't add up to the Five.
    Pedro was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing only a pair of shorts. There was a bandage on the side of his head. Matt guessed that he had been awake for a while. Pedro was always the first to get up, but then, of course, in his old life he would have been begging on the streets of Lima, waiting for the commuter traffic long before dawn. The two boys had been lying next to each other in twin beds.
    "So what do we do now?" Pedro asked.
    "I don't know, Pedro." Matt got out of bed and