Free Fire Girl by Matt Ralphs Page B

the goggles from her and adjusted some of the wheels.
‘For a demon like Rawhead, being in our world is a slow and painful death sentence.’
    ‘You mean he might already be dead?’
    ‘I doubt it. It would take a long time for a demon like Rawhead to wither away – and there are ways they can prolong their existence in our world.’
    ‘Like what?’ asked Hazel, both fascinated and horrified.
    ‘They feed.’
    Hazel’s stomach churned. ‘On what?’
    ‘Animals . . . people . . . whatever they can find – as long as it’s fresh. They’re particularly partial to children.’
    ‘Ask him about dormice,’ Bramley squeaked.
    ‘The advantage for us is that the decaying demon leaves a trail behind,’ continued David.
    ‘Like a slug?’ asked Hazel.
    ‘Almost exactly!’ He put the goggles around Hazel’s head and adjusted the strap to fit. Hazel tried to stifle a giggle as she felt Bramley wriggling his way under the neck of
her cloak to avoid David’s clumsy fingers.
    ‘Demon trails are invisible to the naked eye,’ David went on, ‘but that’s where these Entropy Goggles come in handy. Comfortable?’
    Hazel nodded, the weight of the goggles making her head feel unbalanced. ‘But I can hardly see—’
    ‘I’ve adjusted them to show Rawhead’s trail. Everything else will be indistinct.’
    Hazel pushed the goggles up her head and blinked her eyes back into focus. ‘How long do the trails last?’
    ‘It depends on the demon. A lesser demon’s trail – a Boggart’s, for instance – may only last a few hours, whereas a more powerful demon leaves a more indelible one.
The boss says you can still see traces of a greater demon summoned by a Grand Magus in the Hebrides, and that was five hundred years ago in eleven sixty-three.’
    ‘What about . . . Rawhead?’ Even saying the name brought the taste of blood to Hazel’s mouth.
    David tapped the cover of
Demonology
. ‘Our chap is of middle rank. I’d say his trail could last for several days.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘A
daemon-mediocritas
. This could be the making of me.’
    Hazel closed the book, shutting her nemesis away. The fields on either side surrendered to rocky scrubland dotted with a few stunted bushes. A stream bubbled somewhere in the darkness. She
peered ahead as a dark shadow grew from the fog.
    Wychwood
, she thought with a thrill of fear.
Where the demon might be
.

13
SILK AND POISON

    ‘The King is defeated. The Witch War is over.
    It’s time to exterminate the rats.’
    Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell

    T he wagon rocked and creaked its way into the forest. A pair of hanging metal cages guarded the entrance, each gibbet containing a crumbling
skeleton shrouded in rags. A raven sat hunched on a wrought-iron ‘C’ at the top of one of the cages.
    ‘
C
for Cromwell,’ David remarked. ‘Odd to think that there used to be witches in the King’s court, isn’t it?’
    ‘It certainly is,’ Hazel hazarded.
    ‘Things are very different now, of course. It won’t be long before there are no witches left in England at all. Then all of us ordinary folk will be safe from them forever. Cromwell
says the witches who remain at large will do anything to get revenge for losing the Witch War.’
    Hazel looked sidelong at David
.
Are there many witches left now?’ she asked.
    David shook his head. ‘Very few, I should think. The Witch Hunters under General Hopkins have seen to that. Most have gathered in the North, but Lord Cromwell himself is leading his army
to defeat them.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I was up there with him.’
    The forest closed in, branches lacing together to shut out the sky. Only a few streaks of moonlight reached the road. The gloom dampened even David’s spirits. Only the horses seemed
unperturbed as they plodded down the rutted track, their perspiring flanks steaming in the cold. Hazel eventually got used to the wagon’s sway, her backside becoming so numb that she
couldn’t feel the seat. Sleep