AS ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE in our concrete cellar, with half the robed cultists attacking the other half, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the chrome plated g*n with the red grip that was still leaking smoke into the air. I had seen it before. In a station bar. Only then it had been shaking in the hands of an old fart with goop dripping from his head.
Stevie turned his back as she produced keys and unlocked his handcuffs. Then she knelt and broke the pentagram, before tossing me the keys. Obviously I couldn’t catch them in one of those smooth moves you see on television. I had to find them on the floor, using the hands that were still cuffed behind my back, then let myself loose. Morag had tried to teach me how to escape from a set of handcuffs, but every time she’d taken them out we’d beco
