Necropolis

BMW driver had been waiting for them, knowing they would come this way. Why else would he have shot out like that, slamming straight into them? Matt had seen him, gripping the wheel. He had known exactly what he was doing.

    Richard was already out of the car.
    "Wait…" Matt said.
    But Richard hadn't heard. He staggered up onto the road, only now becoming aware that he was in pain.
    There were no cuts or bruises, but, like all of them, he had suffered from whiplash. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" he demanded when he got to the SUV.
    The driver had gotten out and was standing in the road. He was a middle-aged man, well built, wearing a long black coat and leather gloves. His mouth was soft and flabby, with small teeth, like a child's. His skin was very pink. His head was almost perfectly round, like a soccer ball. He had curly hair.
    "I'm so terribly sorry," he said. "I didn't see you. I was in a hurry. I hope none of you are hurt."
    Richard was still angry, but he suddenly knew something was wrong. 'You did it on purpose," he said.
    His voice had faltered. 'You tried to kill us."
    "Not at all. I just pulled out without looking. I can't tell you how sorry I am. Thank goodness you don't seem to be seriously hurt."
    By now, Matt and Jamie had joined Richard. They had left their driver where he was, recovering from the shock of the accident. Jamie stared at the SUV driver, and the color drained out of his face. He knew at once what he was looking at. It was the last thing he had expected to find here.
    "Matt…" Jamie whispered. "He's a shape-changer."
    Matt didn't doubt him. Jamie had met shape-changers when he had gone back in time. Shape-changers were able to take on human form, but it didn't quite fit. One of them, an old man who had suddenly become a giant scorpion, had almost killed Jamie at the fortress at Scathack Hill. He knew what he was talking about. And Matt could see it for himself. Everything about the BMW driver was fake, even the way he stood there, stiff and unnatural, like a dummy in a shop window. The words he was saying could have been written out for him, on a script.
    "I'm insured," he continued. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about. It was my fault. No doubt about it."
    Richard stared. None of them knew what to do. Barely a minute had passed since the collision, but already other people were arriving on the scene. A bus on its way to Brixton had pulled up, and the driver was climbing out of his cabin, coming over to help. Two more cars had stopped farther up the road. Matt had seen a taxi pull out of Ardbeg Road and thought it might be coming their way, but it had already turned and driven away.

    They couldn't risk a fight. They were in the middle of a suburban, South London street. If they challenged the shape-changer, if he decided to drop his human form, chaos would break loose. And already the police had arrived. A squad car turned the corner and pulled over. Two officers got out.
    "Good afternoon, officers." The BMW driver was pretending that he was pleased to see them. "Glad you're here. We're in a bit of a pickle."
    His language was as fake as the rest of him, and for just a few seconds, Matt was tempted to take him on, to show the entire crowd what was really happening here. He could use his own power. Without so much as moving, he could tear a strip of metal off the shattered car and send it flying into the man.
    There were a dozen witnesses on the scene. How would they react when the blushing, curly-haired BMW driver turned into a half-snake or a half-crocodile and bled green blood? Maybe it was time to show the world the war that was about to engulf it.
    It was Richard who stopped him.
    "No, Matt."
    He must have seen what Matt was thinking, because he muttered the two words under his breath, never taking his eyes off the man who was standing in front of them. Matt understood. For some reason, the shape-changer was playing with them. It was pretending that this was just an ordinary accident. If Matt took it on, if he began a fight here in the street, innocent people might get hurt. And he was in England with a fake passport and a false name. This was the wrong time to be answering questions. Right now he had everything to lose.
    "I'm so very sorry," the shape-changer said.
    "I saw what happened!" the bus driver exclaimed. He nodded at the BMW driver, his face filled with outrage. "He pulled out at fifty miles an hour. He didn't look. He didn't signal. It was all his