She followed silently, not trusting herself to speak without crying. Not that she had anything of value to say. She could tell she had argued enough as it was, she had never seen Shawn so frustrated with anyone, let alone her, and she had no intention to poke the bear any further.

They headed out into the dim, craggy outback. Every few metres looking like a remix of the last, all the same colours, textures and shapes but in different orders. Nothing but grey tones and walls of jagged rock. There was a hum of hidden activity that she couldn’t place. It gave her the distinct sensation that she was being watched by a monster with too many eyes. It made her wish she had worn more layers, preferably in darker colours.

“I can sense a portal presence but can’t pinpoint it,” Shawn announced after they had been walking for what felt like half an hour. She nodded her understanding and continued to walk half a step back at his side.

She did not want to cause any more trouble; shame was already drowning her silently. She had done nothing but make things worse for everyone so far, but yet there was still that voice inside of her screaming for her to take action. To meddle even more in the affairs of demons. As petrifying and stomach churning as this place was, the stinging sensation inside of her that throbbed a constant reminder of the loss of Ava was stronger. Tara shook her head, sometimes she really did feel like the silly little human that clearly they all viewed her as.

They hiked through the dingy and ominous land for a long time, occasionally squeezing through barely-visible passages in the rocky structures that followed them no matter how far they walked. Tara’s feet had begun to sting in her sneakers and her legs felt like they were filled with wet sand. She kept her mouth shut, though.

Passing another grey, rock-shaped rock just like all the others that stretched to the ceiling, Shawn suddenly jerked to a halt like an elastic band that had been twanged.

“We’ve been walking too long,” he hissed. The fear in his voice triggered an instant release of adrenaline in Tara’s body. There was nothing scarier to her than a scared demon.

“Too long for them not to notice my trace?” she said as quietly as was physically possible. If there had been anything in her stomach she would have blown chunks in response to the gut-punch of fear that hit her.

He snatched a handful of her wool collar and began back-pedalling, dragging her backwards with him. “No, too long to be following the trail of a real portal,” he murmured, eyes wide and wary. “Someone is leading me deliberately. It’s not a real portal but a fake presence. If it were, we would have reached it by now because I can’t reach out my scan this far.”

Their backs hit rock and they jerked forwards; there had been nothing behind them a moment before. As they stumbled around to look, Shawn still gripping Tara by her clothes, a hulking, steel-grey body peeled out of the newly-formed stone pile. Its thick, rope-veined arms lurched forward and snatched the both of them, one in each hand. Shawn released Tara to swing his fists forward, one to the throat and one to the groin. Although their attacker did flinch slightly, loosening their grip on both of them, they were not knocked back or immobilised in any way. Shawn was not deterred, though, he continued to kick and slam his fists into all the softest areas of the rock-hard frame clutching them, and for a moment it appeared to be crumbling their captor’s stance more and more as they had no way to defend with their hands full of fugitive. Tara did her best to help, flailing her feet and digging her nails into the stony fist around her jumper.

A pair of knives shocked Tara with a chilling sensation, cold metal dug under her jaw on each side. She stilled. Prickles of sweat pulled through to the surface of her skin. Was she scared of the pain or scared of death? Either way, she couldn’t breathe through the fear. Shawn fell limp beside her, panting angrily. There was another set of blades at his throat.

“Don’t struggle,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Tara choked out, “Shawn-”

“Say nothing. Don’t move. Follow me.”

But she did not need to follow, as she was snatched up into the arms of the person behind her. One knife at her throat and another against her thigh as they pinned her against their chest. Shawn’s arms were bound behind his back roughly and his ankles were chained with enough room to allow small steps. They yanked him about so harshly as they bound him, he was almost tipped over. He grunted words in his language that sounded likely to be curses. When they were finished, the bindings glowed softly in an off-white colour.

The leader of the trio spoke to Shawn in a snarl, almost spitting into his face, but he did not respond. He didn’t translate either. He appeared bored, as though he had heard this speech before and had no interest in a re-run. The leader stepped back and gave his two minions a nod.

With one captor on each side of Shawn and the third holding Tara, they set off into the darkness again, this time in an ever so slightly different direction. Apparently, she would be carried to their destination. Tara’s heart hammered against her chest, which felt weaker than usual as she was surrounded by immortal, supernaturally strong beings. She was fully aware that the person carrying her could simply squeeze and crush her into a mangled pile of floppy limbs.

The journey was long, yet she didn’t want it to end. She did not know the horrors that awaited them at their drop-off point. Tara had so many swirling fears inside of her she could no longer tell which was the main one squeezing at her throat at any time. They seemed to take it in turns to suffocate her. The group silence and monotonous surroundings gave her nothing to focus her brain on that wasn’t speculation of what was to come next. How much further could things go wrong?

Eventually, a giant metal box appeared on the horizon, reflecting the minuscule light to be found in the area. It did not look friendly. There we no signs or insignias to be seen as they approached, but Tara had no doubt she wasn’t being taken to Hell’s British embassy. There were a few doors pressed into the walls at distant intervals. When they reached theirs, Tara was plopped to the ground. She stumbled a little on dead legs but straightened quickly at a glare from the leader of the group.

The inside of the building was just as grey and unremarkable, long corridors and lifeless furniture covered with stacks of paperwork. She and Shawn were led to a holding area that reminded Tara of jail cells in old spy movies. They were shoved towards the nearest cell and stood pressed against the bars while Shawn was unshackled, ready to be imprisoned in the tiny room.

Through the bars, two figures in dark clothing were sat hunched on the bench that was attached to the back wall. Hoods covered their heads. As a guard began yanking and shoving the various locks of the barred door, the hood on the left lifted and dark eyes snapped onto Tara immediately.

Even with greyed skin, tiny, coned horns breaking free of her temples, and cheekbones sharper than a razor, Tara recognised her instantly.

“Ava,” she croaked.