grey god, and no man and no monster came close to touching him. The street was full of people now, and things not at all like people, coming at us from every alley and side street, brandishing all kinds of weapons, yelling my name like a curse. Creatures loped through the crowds, or hovered above in the smoky night sky. I saw fangs and claws and membraneous wings, and shapes that made no sense at all, bursting out of the sides of crumbling buildings as though they weren't even there.

And then I swear I heard my mother's voice, abroad in the night, speaking Words of Power from a language so ancient it predated any human tongue or meaning. A trapdoor opened up in the pavement right in front of Razor Eddie, a hole in our world, a door to somewhere else. Long tentacles with crocodile hide and suckers like barbed mouths shot up out of that other place and wrapped themselves around Razor Eddie. He cut viciously about him with his razor, but for every tentacle he severed a dozen more burst up through the trap-door. They finally whipped around both his arms, pinioning them to his sides, then they dragged him down into the hole, out of our world and into theirs. He never cried out, not once. The trap-door slammed shut, and Razor Eddie was gone.

I kept running. We all did. The Punk God of the Straight Razor could take care of himself. He'd find his way back. I believed that. I had to believe it.

The Cheyne Walk entrance was really close now. The crowds were thickening up before us, desperate to block our way. Suzie's shotgun fired again and again. The barrels were so hot that steam rose up from her leather gloves where she held the gun. Tommy was speaking gibberish, forcing his gift to manifest through sheer force of will. His face was very pale, his breathing laboured, his eyes dangerously wild. He wrapped the three of us in a cloud of uncertainty, and the mobs couldn't find us. And then a whole building collapsed as we ran past it, the smoke-blackened wall bowing suddenly outwards and slamming down like a hammer. Suzie and I forced out one last burst of speed, but Tommy was so focused on his gift he didn't realise what was happening until it was too late. The crumbling brickwork swept over him like a jagged tide, enveloping him in a moment, and we lost sight of him in a dark, billowing cloud of dust.

I stopped to look back, and through the settling dust I saw Tommy lying half-covered by rubble. He was hurt, but still conscious, still alive. Suzie was at my side, tugging my arm, calling my name. I looked at Tommy, and he looked right back at me. His gift was gone, and everyone knew exactly where we were. Voices were calling my name. Suzie pulled me away, and I turned my back on Tommy and started running again. The station entrance was right there. Tommy called out my name once, then I heard him scream as the mob found him.

I left Tommy Oblivion to die. I hadn't saved him after all. And all I could think was What will I tell his brother?

We came to the Cheyne Walk underground station entrance, and I started down the steps. It took me a moment to realise Suzie wasn't there with me. I looked round, and she'd taken up a position at the top of the steps, blocking the entrance. She glared at me.

"Go on, John. I've got your back."

"Suzie, no??

"Someone's got to hold them off long enough for you to catch your train out of here. And I'm the only one left. Don't take too long, John. I'm seriously low on ammo and almost out of dirty tricks."

"I can't just leave you!"

"Yes you can. You must. Now get the hell out of here, John. And don't worry. I can look after myself, remember?"

She smiled once, then the mob came surging forward. She met them with both barrels and a handful of shrapnel grenades. I carried on down the steps into the Underground. She'd been right before, as usual. There hadn't been time for a proper good-bye.

Down in the tube station, it felt a lot later than three o'clock in the morning. The place stank of blood and sweat and desperation and far too many people. They sat huddled on the steps in filthy blood-stained clothes, rocking back and forth