‘There’s something above us,’ he said, pointing at the black shape on the stone.
‘I know. It has been with us since the forest. Shrikes like to injure their prey with a surprise attack, then follow the victim from above until it collapses from its wounds. It is an effective technique, but it will work to our advantage today. Wild demons have an almost instinctual fear of portals, so it is rare for one to come through unless we drag it in. If we can get Valens to return through the portal, the Shrike will leave him alone. Then I can infuse him, and he will heal just fine. I just hope he can make it,’ Lovett replied, pushing a sweaty strand of hair from out of her eyes.
Finally, the portal appeared on the horizon. It was not a moment too soon, for Valens’s flight was becoming jerky and the Oculus’s image was dimming with worrying frequency.
‘Just a little further,’ Lovett hissed, her brow furrowed in concentration.
But the Mite had gone as far as he could go. Valens tumbled to the ground a few feet from the portal, landing in a puff of dust. He lay motionless, the only sign he was still alive was the glow of the stone, still showing the plumes of dust as they twisted in the wind’s eddies.
‘Quick, get me the ether gear, now! It’s in the last cupboard on the far wall. I don’t know how long we have left!’
Seraph was the first to react, sprinting to the back of the room and heaving out a bulky package.
‘I need help, it’s heavy!’ he shouted. Othello hastened to his assistance and together they hauled it to Lovett. Fletcher continued to stare into the stone. The shadow had swooped by again.
‘Can’t I send Ignatius in to get him?’ Fletcher asked.
‘No, our manas would merge if your demon entered through my portal. Mixing manas is difficult to master. If you fail on the first attempt, the portal will close, and we will lose Valens for good.’
Lovett was struggling to get into what looked like a bulky one-piece suit. It was made of heavy leather with steel-capped boots at the bottom and a metal ring around the neck at the top. Once her feet were in, Lovett attached the long leather tether that powered the pentacle to another that extended from the back of her suit, several metres in length. There was a long, empty hose connected to a helmet on the floor, coiled in several loops.
‘Stretch my air pipe out, Seraph. I need a clear airway,’ Lovett demanded, lifting the helmet. As Seraph unravelled the hose, she clicked it into place above her neck.
‘It needs to be airtight!’ she shouted in a muffled voice. ‘The ether’s air is poisonous to us. If I get a hole in my suit, pull me out immediately using the tether, whether I have collected Valens or not!’
‘It’s just a Mite. Why risk your life for something you could capture another of tomorrow?’ Tarquin asked, his voice filled with scepticism.
Lovett turned towards him, her face barely visible. The helmet was made of copper, with a round pane of thick glass on the front. There was a cage built over the small window to keep it from shattering.
‘A demon is not an item to be tossed aside like an old shirt,’ she snapped. ‘When you have battled side by side with yours, maybe you’ll understand.’
With those parting words, she stepped into the portal.
They saw Lovett step out on the gemstone, a hazy brown figure swimming into Valens’s view. It was so strange, to see her move from the blue-tinged gloom of the summoning room to the scorching sky of the ether in just a few seconds. Yet there she was, stomping through the dust towards the Mite with slow, measured strides.
Soon her gloved hand scooped up Valens and brought the demon to the front of her helmet. They could see her grey eyes flashing through the glass with equal amounts of fear and concern, before she turned and trudged back to the portal.
‘Why is she moving so slowly?’ Genevieve whispered.
‘She’s wearing a heavy suit in a scorching desert whilst maintaining a portal to another world and controlling a dying demon simultaneously. It’s a miracle she is still standing at all,’ Tarquin said in a lofty tone. ‘If that portal closes she will be trapped there for as long as it takes for the poison to kill her after her air pipe gets snipped in two. Foolish woman.’
‘She’s going to make it,’ Fletcher murmured, willing her onwards as she took step after staggering step.
It was Othello who saw it first, a small black spot in the sky, growing larger by the second. He pointed at it with curiosity then wide-eyed horror as a feathered demon expanded into view. Lovett had seemingly noticed too, for her pace quickened and the pentacle crackled dangerously as her concentration slipped.