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Meanwhile, around the back, the Gask party had heard the roar of the car and more gunshots, and used the disturbance to deploy a favourite little glamour of mine, one which opens locked doors. We slipped inside and swept through the kitchens of the old house, finding nothing either interesting or dangerous, until we reached the main hall. There, Garrick too was attempting to flee, but in a very different fashion. Perhaps I had expected he would have prepared another of the magical secret passages that Goblins in general - and the Professor in particular - always like. But it seemed he had not. Instead, he was attempting to use the Old Ones' glamour, to conjure a magic circle and sink effortlessly into the ground, to turn up who-knows-where. It didn't work. I didn't know why, although I suspect the claws - and magic - of the Old Ones had something to do with it. The frustration was visible in Garrick's face and the set of his shoulders, even at a slight distance. He knew it wasn't going to work. Of course, magical escape routes are not the only way of leaving a building. Garrick turned and saw us bearing down on him with weapons drawn, moved with surprising speed to a small door under the main staircase. We followed him. The door lead to the cellars of the old house, and we could hear the Professor not very far away breathing heavily, followed by a creaking noise I could not immediately place. At the bottom of the cellar stairs, the Gask party split up, each of us taking a different one of the subterranean rooms. I got to the far reaches of the cellar I had selected just in time to see an entrance closing. It was some kind of secret doorway concealed behind a wine rack, a tunnel of human construction, the kind of thing that would have been used by smugglers and bootleggers in years past. Garrick had slipped through my fingers once before and I was determined that her was not going to get away again. "Garrick's getting away!" I bellowed, "After him!" Nether and Trinity all converged on my cries. I tugged ineffectually on the now-closed door. "Stand aside," Nether instructed. I did so. My brother put a couple of rounds into the lock, then all three of us tugged at the heavy wooden construction. With excruciating slowness, the door opened and we slipped through in pursuit of our quarry. On the other side of the door was a long straight tunnel, low and narrow and dark of a human, although perfectly acceptable for Goblins. At the far end, we could make out Garrick reaching up to a iron ladder set into the wall, moving very deftly even for one of his advanced age. Again, we followed, hearts pounding and guns held at the ready. We reached the ladder and climbed rapidly, Nether leading the way, followed by Trinity and then myself. The top of the ladder led to a manhole cover in the road. No streetlights, just a few scudding clouds in front of the moon, and Garrick nowhere to be seen. "I'll go this way," Nether said, pointing down the road, "You too try that way." Trinity and I ran off, following the road as the stone walls on either side we high enough to slow down an old Goblin. We rounded a corner and there, visible in the fitful moonlight, we again caught sight of the Professor. I had never known Garrick carry a gun but, somehow, the rules had changed today. The old Professor pulled a little handgun from his jacket pocket, cocked it awkwardly and swung it in my direction. And then the tragedy happened. Trinity, for so long a bodyguard and protector, saw Garrick take aim and threw herself in front of me. The bullet struck her in the heart. It was the last shot, the last bullet. The police force that had surrounded the place had rushed in on hearing the shots, and four different coppers now approached Garrick from as many directions. Garrick dropped his gun and raised his hands. Ignoring the Professor, I fell onto my knees next to my sister. "Trinity," I urged, tears in my eyes, "Stay with me here." Her lips moved in a pale approximation of a wry grin. "Too late for that," she gasped, "Take care of things for me." I cradled her head in my arms. "Findo," she croaked, "Thanks. For everything. I never said so before. You always were my favourite brother." Her eyes closed, her head lolled back, her heart stopped forever. "No!" I howled in anguish, "Nooo!"
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Part 95