Necropolis

both sides of the water. There were hundreds of them, every shape and size, made small and insignificant by the distance — with 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 stroller 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 that 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 pockmarked 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 oversize kitchen knife. Then she realized what it was: a machete. The blade was about two feet 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 that 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. Mrs. Cheng's 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 were hinged and she looked away. She heard the thud as Mrs. Cheng's severed head hit the ground. She knew it was a sound that she would never forget.
    The woman ran forward and put an arm around Scarlett, 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," the woman said in perfect English. "Don't look. 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, her 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