I dusted off my clothes, then sniffed them unhappily. There was still the remaining odour of eau de bonfire, whether from the Winter Solstice campfires or the blaze at Clava Books, I wasn’t completely sure. Now there was the added reek of stale dust. I cupped my hand round my mouth and breathed into it and then tried to sniff my breath. Nope, that wasn’t very pleasant either. Oh well, there was little I could do about either right now.

I headed to the back of the house and eyed the window that I’d clambered through earlier. Somehow the gap seemed smaller than it had previously. I pushed my head through the hole and wiggled myself out, managing to catch myself on exactly the same nail that I had on the way in. This time, instead of just ripping my clothes though, it scratched its way across my skin. I tried to remember if I’d had a tetanus booster recently. In fact I tried to remember if I’d ever had a tetanus shot in the past. Lockjaw wasn’t a disease that shifters had ever tended to worry about. Perhaps I’d go see a doctor if I ever got myself out of the Ministry alive.

I made my way through the garden of the abandoned house. It wasn’t quite so dark outside; in fact despite the latness of the hour it actually seemed quite light. One of the drawbacks of living in the city, I decided. I hopped over the wooden fence and wandered back to the front of the house – and the front of the so-called Charters College.

I crossed the road and began searching. I was trying to appear nonchalant, as if I was just out for a stroll, should any mage suddenly decide to look out of the window. There were several lights on, on several different floors. I attempted to take a snapshot in my head of them all so that when – if – I got inside, I’d be able to find my around, avoiding any unnecessary encounters. I pictured the potential room layout in my head, committing it to memory. Of course I had no way of knowing what the rooms that weren’t south facing were like, but I had to do what I could. I trailed my fingers along the iron railings, walking slowly in the direction of the gates when I finally saw what I was looking for. In a corner, where the railings stopped and the low brick wall started, was a small black box. It was on the opposite side to the railings, so in theory any would be intruder wouldn’t be able to reach it without first climbing over the railings and tripping the very alarm they were trying to stop. But of course most intruders didn’t have groovy green fire that they could shoot from their fingers.

I took a quick look around to make sure that the street was quiet. There were a few lights on in the houses on the terraced row where the abandoned house was, but their curtains were closed and there was no-one out in the street. I briefly closed my eyes and pointed my left hand towards the box, concentrating. I felt, rather than saw, the flame reaching out. There was a crackle and a hiss. Opening my eyes, I noted the small plume of smoke rising from the box and held my breath, waiting for the alarm to be sounded. The street remained quiet. No new lights appeared in the windows of the mansion and slowly, inexorably, the huge metal gates began to open. I realised that I’d been holding my breath and exhaled slowly.

As soon as the gates had opened enough, I darted inside and hugged the exterior of the Ministry’s grounds, holding myself against the railings and the wall and running towards the cluster of trees behind which the garages lay. I knew that if there were any warning wards to be tripped, I’d already have set them off by setting foot inside the grounds, so I had to make sure that I got into the building quickly, before anyone could stop me.

Picking up speed but staying in the dark shadows, I pelted my way forward. There were actually six different garage doors, none of which had been completely visible from the street. I frowned for a moment, but I didn’t have time for eeny meeny miny mo, so I just aimed for the nearest one. I tried tugging at the handle first, but it wouldn’t budge so I felt around the edges instead. The electricity box controlling the garage doors would be inside, but the wires weren’t. As soon as I found one with my fingers, I shot another blast of flame towards it, incinerating the rubber and the wiring within, and short-circuiting the system. Or so I hoped anyway.

The smell of burnt rubber began to fill the air and it seemed as if, for a moment, nothing was going to happen. Then, with a great trundling creak, the garage door started to jerk upright and open. I flattened myself against the wall, just in case there was anyone waiting right inside. Other than the sounds of the door, I could make out little else, however. I craned my neck around, and could see the shapes of a few cars shrouded in the darkness, but little else. Holding my breath again, I ran inside.

I moved stealthily towards the back of the garage and where I presumed the door to the main house would be. There were a few stone steps up to my left and then a simple looking wooden door with a stainless steel handle. I jogged up the steps and turned the handle, praying to whatever gods might be out there that it would turn.

My luck was in. It was just possible that the mages were so secure in their own omnipotence that it didn’t occur to them that anyone would actually try to break into their own fortress. Regardless of anything, when I opened the door and light flooded the garage from the carpeted hallway within, I knew that I’d made it inside.

I gingerly stepped out onto the plush carpet. Clearly the mages spared no expense on their interior. This was definitely not like the threadbare floor covering that I was used to from the keep. My feet actually sank down into this carpet. I was in more danger of lying down and rolling around to luxuriate in it than trip on an old hole and embarrass myself. At least it would help me stay quiet, if nothing else. Keeping in mind that I would only have a limited amount of time before I’d get caught by whatever defence systems the mages had in place, I quickly tried to get my bearings. I knew that I was on the ground floor. It made sense that this would be where I’d find the kitchens, dining room, assuming there was one, and the offices.

I would need to get myself to the office of someone high up in the Ministerial hierarchy if I had any chance of pleading my case. Logically, anyone who fit that description would have an office positioned in the most desirable position. That would mean on a corner, probably far away from the kitchens and the garages, and looking out onto the front gardens. There had been several lights dotted around at this end of the Ministry but only a few towards the other end, at the opposite of where I’d entered. It stood to reason that it was at that other end where I’d find the kind of person that I needed to talk to.

Treading lightly, I jogged along the soft carpet and down the hallway. I passed several doors, all carved out of some ornate tropical wood, and all shut. I didn’t waste time in opening them to peer into them, instead I headed straight in front of me. There was a wall at the far end and the corridors peeled off both right and left. A painting of some stern looking gentleman with grey hair and a pinched nose gazed down at me. I raised my eyebrows up at him, almost hoping that it was some kind of magical painting that would suddenly come to life and direct me to some magical senior manager. I must have read too many children’s stories in my past, however, because the paint stayed motionless. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I elected to turn left. The right hand side would keep close to the front of the house where I’d surely want to be, but it was also where there had definitely been lights indicating signs of life. I reckoned that I’d be able to flip right again at some point once I’d passed the danger zones.

Rolling up my jacket sleeves, I unsheathed my daggers, clutching one in each hand. My palms were sweaty and I could feel the adrenalin coursing through my system. I allowed the bloodfire to take over, feeling the welcome surge of heat swirl around my innards.

There were more old paintings dotting the walls of this corridor, mainly portraits of what I assumed to be mages from the past. In another life I’d have paused to admire the workmanship and wonder about the subjects, but this was not the time to let my attention drift. From inside another room I heard a clatter of dishes and froze for a brief moment, waiting to see if someone would emerge into the corridor with me. Everything stayed quiet, however, so I continued on my way. I was surprised that there had been no sign that the mages knew that there was an intruder on their premises. I hoped I wasn’t walking into a trap. The thing was, I had very little choice in the matter. I couldn’t leave Mrs Alcoon to rot away in Tir-na-Nog and I didn’t know anyone other than the mages who’d put her in that position in the first place who could de-spell her, so to speak. If it was a trap then they would at least know why I was there. I reckoned that my daggers could be persuasive enough to make them remove the stasis spell from her before they took me down.

Up ahead, where the corridor stretched out into the distance, a door abruptly opened. Panicking, I scooted backwards and threw open one of the wooden doors I’d already passed, from under which a dark shadow had indicated the absence of anyone within, and flung my whole body inside. I carefully closed the door behind me, trying to be quiet, but left it ajar just a crack so I could see who emerged and what they were doing. Muffled voices drew closer.

“He has to listen to me, Argo, this girl is dangerous.”

I frowned. That voice was suddenly dreadfully familiar.

“I think given that she managed to take out both Martha and Miles is an indication of that,” the other mage stated in a much more measured tone of voice.

“When I gave her the necklace, her body glowed. And it glowed green! She’s some kind of Otherworld creature that needs to be taken out.”

My hand went involuntarily up to the necklace that remained hanging around my neck. So Maggie, Mrs Alcoon’s so-called friend, had decided to travel to the heart of the Ministry to make sure they were just completely aware of how dangerous I was. I almost harrumphed out loud. I would think that the fact that I’d almost killed two of their own would be indication enough of that. My eyes narrowed as she passed by the door with her companion. I was very tempted to take her down – and in fact my bloodfire was roaring in approval at that idea. If she hadn’t involved the Ministry in the first place then Mrs Alcoon wouldn’t be in the mess she was right now.