He claps, and two of the beasts grab hold of Felicity.
"Wait!" I shout. "This is hardly sporting, is it?"
Azreal stops the men."Go on," he says to me.
"I propose a game."
Azreal grins, giving his face the appearance of a death mask. "I am intrigued, poppet." He snakes his hand around my neck, caressing it, as he whispers into my ear. "Tell me, what sort of game?"
"A hunt," I whisper.
Azreal steps back.
"What are you doing?" Ann warns.
I keep my eyes trained on Azreal's. If I can get us together, I can make the door of light appear, and we can escape the Poppy Warriors. Azreal claps again, breaking into a delighted cackle. The Poppy Warriors follow suit. Together, they sound like the birds we heard on our way across.
"A most sporting offer. Yes, yes, I like it. We accept, poppet. The hunt shall whet our appetites. Do you see that door?"
He points to an arched iron door at the far end of the cathedral.
"Yes," I say.
"It leads to the catacombs below, and five tunnels. One leads out and away. Perhaps you'll find it. That would be magic indeed, poppets. We'll let you start."
"Yes, but we shall need a moment to confer," I say.
Azreal waves a finger at me. "No time to wish for the door, Order priestess," he says, as if reading my mind. "Yes, I know all about it. Your fear lets us in." He shakes his hands over us, as if sprinkling fairy dust, his bangles jangling in an echo. "See if you can find the tunnel. Go now, poppets. Runrunrun." He chants it to us like a benediction.
"Run. Run. Run."
The Poppy Warriors pick up the chant--Run. Run. Run-- till it bounces off the cathedral's walls like a great roar. "Rrruuunnn! Rrruuunnn! Rrruuunnn!"
As if shot from a cannon, Ann and I break for the door.
"Felicity!" I shout.
She's stopped to grab her bow and the quiver of arrows.
"Clever, poppet!" Azreal yells. "Such spirit you have!"
"Go!" she screams, catching up to us. We waste no time. We push through the heavy door into a long corridor lined with candles.
"Give me your hands!" I shout.
"Now?" Felicity screeches. "They're right behind us."
"All the more reason to leave at once!"
We join hands, and I try to concentrate. The most terrible, primal howls and screeches echo in the huge cathedral. They are coming after us. In seconds, they shall be through the door and we don't stand a chance. My whole body shakes with fear.
"Gemma, make the door of light! Get us away!" Ann screams, nearly hysterical.
I try again. A piercing shriek unnerves me, and I lose my train of thought. Felicity's face is wild with fear.
"Gemma!" she cries.
"I can't do it. I can't concentrate!" I say.
Azreal's singsong voice rings out. "There'll be no magicagic here, poppet. Not when we've such games to play."
"They're keeping it from us. We're going to have to find another way out," I say. "No, no, no!" Felicity whimpers.
"Come on! Look everywhere!" I shout. We stumble along the corridor, patting the walls, searching for some escape. It is gruesome work: my palms rub across chips of bone and teeth. A bit of hair pulls away in my fingers, and I gag with fear and revulsion. Ann screams. She's found a skeleton shackled to a wall, a warning of what's to come.
"Ready or not, poppets, we're coming for you!"
Oh, God. My trembling fingers find a handle. It is part of a small door that nearly blends into the wall.
"What's this?" I say. The door opens with a creak, and we come close to tumbling down a long rope of perilous steps. They snake around the wall, ending far below, where the room opens into five tunnels.
"This way!" I shout. Felicity and Ann step in and we push the heavy door closed, bolting it shut. Under my breath, I mutter a silent prayer that the wooden plank we've slid into place holds fast.
"Stay against the wall," I say, peering over the edge. Ann's boot sends a stone plummeting. It takes many seconds for it to hit the floor--a long way to fall. Quickly but carefully, we make our way down. It is like descending into hell. Torches cast an eerie glow on the wet, rocky walls. At last, we reach the bottom. We're in a circle that branches off into tunnels like a five-pointed star.
Tears streak Ann's face, mingling with mucus from her dripping nose. Her eyes are wide with fear. "What now?"
The shrieks of the Poppy Warriors drift through the crevices of the bolted door. They batter it mercilessly, the wood splintering in deafening cracks.