The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,41

away, little birdie, and take your mortal with you.”

Zac caught the Valkyrie by the arm and pulled her away. She resisted, but only for a moment.

“What did you do that for?” Herya demanded. “I’ve fought bigger than him. I could’ve taken him.”

“Well, maybe you could, but you don’t have to,” Zac told her. “There’s another way through.”

Herya reluctantly tore her gaze from the bouncer. “How?” she asked.

“The lock on the door. It’s a five-pin deadbolt.”

“And? What does that even mean?”

Zac reached into a pocket and pulled out a slim leather case. He unzipped it and showed Herya the tools wrapped within. “It means I can open it. I just need to get that guy out of the way.”

“I could slice out his lungs,” the Valkyrie said, “and, er, make him wear them as a hat.”

Zac blinked. “Well, there’s that, but I was thinking something a bit more subtle,” he said. “Just cause a distraction. Get him to walk away. Thirty seconds, that’s all I’ll need. Do you think you can do that?”

Herya snorted. “Well, yeah. I cause distractions all the time.”

“Do you?” frowned Zac. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you cause distractions all the time?”

Herya chewed her lip. “Practice,” she said at last. “Now let me do my thing so you can do yours.”

Zac nodded. “Fair enough.” He took one of the tools from his bag. It looked like a thin screwdriver with a slightly hooked point.

Herya turned and slipped off through the crowds, cursing herself below her breath. I cause distractions all the time, she thought. What in Thor’s name did I say that for?

Contrary to everything she’d said to Zac, she had never actually been in Hades before. The creatures dancing and gyrating around her were like images from her childhood nightmares, all twisted and misshapen and wrong.

As she sidled through the throngs, Herya felt her mouth go dry. Zac would be watching her, she knew, waiting on her making her move. But what move? She had no idea how she was going to lure the bouncer away. She had no idea about anything.

Maybe there was a fire alarm somewhere that she could activate. That might work. She changed course and set off in the direction of the nearest wall. With any luck, it would have a fire alarm button on it somewhere.

A flailing foot caught her on the back of the knee. She cried out in shock as she stumbled forward, before thudding into the back of someone standing by the edge of the dance floor.

There was a crash as the person she had collided with dropped their drink and the glass shattered into slivers on the dirty floor.

“Not again,” Herya groaned. She looked up, past a washboard stomach and a bodybuilder’s chest, and up to the bull-like head of a Minotaur. A hot swirl of steam snorted out from the creature’s nostrils as his mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You spilled my pint,” the Minotaur growled.

“Um, yeah,” said Herya, her voice coming out as a squeak. She glanced over to the bouncer and took a shaky breath. “What you going to do about it?”

Even over the sound of the music, Zac heard the roaring of the Minotaur. There was a sudden commotion and a frantic scuffle as the creature swung its arms in a wide arc. Herya ducked out of the way. The Gorgon wasn’t so lucky. The Minotaur’s fists sent her sprawling to the floor, the brown paper bag slipping off as she fell.

There was a scream as several dancers who had been looking the Gorgon’s way turned to stone.

“Sorry, everyone, sorry!” stammered the snake-headed Gorgon, but panic had already gripped the crowd. It surged away from the Gorgon, only to be battered back by the raging Minotaur.

Demons and monsters alike began to clash, and in seconds the club had become the scene of a full-scale riot.

Zac watched and found himself admiring the Valkyrie’s work. The dancers who weren’t yet fighting were now rushing to get involved. Revellers knocked one another over, then trampled across the fallen in their hurry to get stuck into someone. The club had been chaotic before Herya had done anything, but now it was a very specific type of chaos. One that was taking place well away from the guarded door.

“Oi! What’s going on?” the bouncer’s upper mouth demanded, as the bottom one bit down on another stick of gum. He pushed into the crowd, ducking something short and hairy and vaguely troll-like as it flailed by above his head. “Cut it out, the