The wind whipped the trees, making the air howl like hungry wolves, slavering and gusting in on the rain drenched clearing. They stood, silent and dripping around the guttering fire. Getting it started had been an exercise in frustration and in the end Clarance had sent a spark of will into it, despite them not being shielded yet from outsiders.

“Get the protections in place, quickly now,” he growled, tearing a strip off the bottom of his tee shirt and wrapping it around the gash in his arm, blood and water dripping off the tips of his fingers.

The other six moved stiffly, drawing symbols into the mud and placing the appropriate stones into the centre of each. When the last one was placed they moved to the centre of the clearing and cast the ritual herbs into the fire. Slowly a shimmering shield enveloped them sparking from stones to fire, hiding them from prying eyes and protecting them from the worst of the wind and rain.

Tapen coughed wetly and sank to his knees in the mud, his broad shoulders slumped.

“It’s not going to hold for more than an hour.”

Clarance spat, “It’ll have to do. Sammath, have you got the book?”

A gangly teen, more elbows and knees than anything, pulled a small softcover out of the waistband of his jeans.

“It got wet,” he mumbled, and held it out towards Clarance.

Clarance took it, his lips curling in disdain. “Can’t do anything right can you boy.”

Sammath shuffled his feet, smearing more mud on his already clagged sneakers, but didn’t answer, a resentful fire burning in his lowered eyes.

“Don’t be so hard on him Lance, he’s just a kid,” Soffis's voice reflected how tired they all felt. She stood swaying, her staff seeming to be the only thing still keeping her upright.

“I’ll be as hard on him as I have to be Soff, he’s the last of us, he’s got to man up, no place for babies or incompetents here!” Clarance's growl held an edge of finality about it. There would be no swaying him on the subject, at least not now, when they were so few and had so much left to finish.

The trees around the clearing rattled like bones and Sammath shuddered, he didn’t want to be here, but they’d given him no choice. Joyce gave him a pitying look, but nobody was willing to stop what Clarance had started, nobody dared.

With the low moan of the wind as a background chorus, Clarance opened the book and started to chant. The seven of them squelched around the fire in a despondent shuffle of damp clothing and muttered incantation.

The fire guttered, then flared; blue and green flames licking the roof of their protective circle sucking what small amount of warmth they had left out of them. Sammath felt his teeth chattering, and swallowed down bile. He’d never been so afraid.

Across the circle, Tapen swayed, his face ghostly white, Asters swift move to support him keeping the ritual moving. In the fire, figures seemed to flicker, blue sprites, their malevolent faces jeering at Sammath.

Clarance’s voice rose, and Sammath could feel his pulse pounding like drumbeats, his vision blurring as the flames licked towards him, frigidly cold and terrifying.

He screamed as a shaft of ice lurched out and pierced his stomach, Joyce catching him so he didn’t break formation, forcing him to keep moving while his blood spilled and froze. Crystalline shards of his life falling across the mud.

The ice filled his veins, roaring through his body in a wave of power that left him breathless and shaking from more than cold and fear. Then everything was silent, calm and peaceful, his body suffused with a floating lightness.

He came to his senses much later, the others were sprawled lifeless in the mud, limbs splayed awkwardly. Stooping he picked up the slim tome still clutched in Clarance's hands.

"Confidential: Icecream franchise contract and terms” he read, then threw back his head, a peel of laughter ringing out into the icy air.

He tucked the booklet back into his waistband, then grinned, his ice blue eyes glittering.

“It’s hard to have a gaytime on your own, ” he kicked Clarance’s limp hand, “but I’ll manage”