The bomb struck directly overhead with enough force to burst through the ticket station and the several layers of concrete reinforcing, exploding just before it reached the platforms themselves.
The concussion blast blew scores of people onto the tracks; it was fortunate that the train system had already closed down for the night. Some rubble fell through from above, but that was not the bomb’s deadliest gift.
Like so many other underground stations, Marble Arch was lined with hundreds of thousands of white ceramic tiles. The concussion blast blew thousands of them from the walls; some remained intact, the majority splintered into a deadly fusillade of razor-sharp fragments.
Twelve people were killed instantly, another seven or eight were fatally wounded, and fifty or sixty more were horrifically injured by the ceramic splinters.
Ecub, who had just emerged onto the platform from the stairwell, was blown fifteen feet to her left and momentarily knocked unconscious. Noah, Matilda, Erith and Grace, still in the stairwell, were tumbled down the remaining ten or twelve steps, their trays and plates and cups and saucers scattering everywhere—both Erith and Noah received minor scalds from the hot tea, while all four of them were heavily bruised and slightly lacerated.
Jack, who had barely reached the entrance when the bomb exploded, thought they were all dead. He scrambled down the stairs as best he could, climbing over rubble, shunting aside chunks of concrete that were in his way, choking on the thick blast dust that fogged the air.
He literally fell over Erith first, who was struggling to rise, and he tripped down the final few steps. Jack muttered an expletive, managed to get his balance, then started feeling about in the gloom. “Noah? Grace? Where are you?”
“Here, Jack,” said a voice, and he reached out in its direction and grabbed an arm.
“Noah? Noah, are you all right?”
“Yes.” Noah’s voice was strained. “Grace?” she said. “Grace?”
“Here,” came a soft voice.
Jack moved towards the voice, but Noah was closer, and scrambled over to hug her daughter tight.
Erith and Matilda stood up, murmuring that they were unharmed save for some bumps and bruises.
“Ecub,” said Noah.
Jack could see a little better now—the dust was finally settling—and he saw Noah crouched close to Grace, her arms still about her daughter, both of them white with dust and marked with thin lines of blood trickling down foreheads and cheeks. He was relieved to see the blood was from nothing more than superficial scratches.
“Ecub,” said Noah. “She’d gone through…” She couldn’t continue.
Jack nodded. “I’ll look for her,” he said, and stepped through to where had once been the platforms.
It was a scene he would never forget. Jack had seen many disasters, participated in many battles, been present for a handful of slaughters, but this…
The actual physical damage to the station appeared relatively minimal. There was a gaping hole in the roof of the tunnel, and the tiles on the walls had fallen off or shattered, but apart from some rubble Jack could not see too much structural destruction.
Nonetheless, the scene that met Jack’s eyes was one which could have bubbled up directly from hell. The station lights sputtered on and off, bathing everything in a surreal yellow glimmer. Thick clouds of dust drifted through the intermittent light. Bodies lay sprawled across the platforms and over the tracks, covered with bloodied dust. Some people lay still, others moved sluggishly, still shocked by the blast.
There was relative silence, although one or two people moaned, and somewhere a child whimpered.
For a long moment Jack could do nothing but look on, appalled. Then a movement to his left caught his attention.
It was Ecub, lying on the platform, partly crumpled against the wall. Jack could not exactly see it was Ecub, she was so covered in dust, but he knew it was her.
“Ecub!” He bent down beside her, carefully brushing dust and fine rubble from her face and shoulders.
She waved a hand, indicating she wanted to rise, and Jack helped her up. Ecub wavered a moment, but she caught her balance quickly.
“You’re injured,” said Jack, concerned at the wound on the side of her head.
“I will live,” she said. “Where’s Noah? The others?”
“In the stairwell. Slightly scraped and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.”
“Thank the gods.”
“We need to leave,” said Jack.
“No,” said Ecub, “we’ve got to help these people.”
“She’s right,” said Noah, appearing at Jack’s side. “We need to help.”
Jack took both women by the elbow and, over their protests, directed them towards the stairwell. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we are going to get out of here now. Listen to the sirens. The fire engines and rescue crews have arrived. We would only get in the way.”
“But—” Noah began.
“We leave now,” Jack said again. “This is Catling’s doing, Noah, in retaliation for the UXB outside St Paul’s. We leave, and we find somewhere to talk. The people here will be well enough without us.”
They gathered finally at Faerie Hill Manor. This was not accomplished without some trouble—Noah had to drive her van back to the Savoy under difficult conditions, Jack likewise with his car. Once they got to the Savoy, to the relief of Weyland who was almost beside himself with worry, Jack asked Noah to use her skills as Darkwitch to move them all to Faerie Hill Manor. Just before they left, he sent a mental message to Ariadne, asking her and Silvius to meet them there.
By five a.m. they had gathered in Harry’s drawing room, Stella the only one not present as she needed to carol in the dawn in the Faerie.
The women had cleaned themselves as much as possible, although none had changed, and Noah and Matilda had applied plasters where needed to superficial cuts.
Now, coffee to hand, they sat down in the chairs and sofas grouped about the fire.
“Jack,” said Harry, “what has happened?” Noah and Jack had already given Harry a brief account of the night’s adventures, but now, no fool, he wanted to know the real reason behind Jack’s barely suppressed impatience and Noah’s worry.
In as few words as possible, Jack told them of his meeting with Catling just outside Marble Arch Station, and of subsequent events.
“It was a warning,” he concluded. “If Noah and I try it again…”
“She’s scared,” said Noah. “What she did tonight proves it. We came too close, Jack.”
Jack glanced at Grace, who was sitting in a chair, her head resting back, her eyes closed. A small vein throbbed in her throat, and Jack wished he’d had a chance to speak with her alone without either her mother or the entire tribe of Eaving’s Sisters about. They hadn’t had a chance, in fact, since their walk along Lambeth Embankment, and Jack needed not only to reassure himself that she was all right after this recent incident, but that she hadn’t had any second thoughts…
He was mildly appalled at how anxious he was regarding the latter.
“I don’t want Catling to come closer,” Jack said.
Noah had seen the direction of Jack’s eyes. “Jack, Catling can’t hurt Grace! Their fates are tied too closely. Tonight was bluff only.”
“A ‘bluff’ which has killed a score of people and injured many more,” Jack said. “And you’re not included in whatever Grace’s and Catling’s co-fate might be. Any of you, Noah, could be killed by Catling’s malevolence.”
“Not me,” said Noah quietly. “She needs me to execute the final Dance of the Flowers with you.”
“Then Ecub or Erith or Matilda, damn it!” Jack said.
“This was going to get bloody sooner or later,” Harry said. “There is only one question. What to do?”
“I get the bands of Troy,” said Jack. “I need them.”
Silvius, who had expected Jack to say this, watched with some wry amusement the interplay throughout the room at Jack’s words. Grace tensed, opening her eyes and looking first at Jack, then at Ariadne. Ariadne smiled—one of her better, predatory smiles—and, having acknowledged Grace’s glance, then winked at Silvius. Noah noticed none of the interplay involving Grace and Ariadne, and merely smiled at Jack.
Oh dear, Silvius thought, I expect that Jack has forgotten to take Noah aside for a quiet word about this.
“I agree,” Noah said. “When?”
“Sunday,” Jack said, “the spring equinox. Noah—”
She had smiled at his words, then broke in before he could continue. “Jack, I have waited so many years to give these bands back to you. I—”
“Noah,” Jack said, “Grace will be the one to hand them to me. I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier.”
Noah’s face froze. Her eyes twitched over to her daughter, who had flushed and was looking studiously at the hands in her lap, then she looked back at Jack. “You can’t want Grace…” she started to say, then drifted to a halt in confusion.
There was a silence. Noah’s face suddenly flamed a far deeper colour than her daughter’s. “I apologise,” she said, glancing first at Weyland—who was looking stolidly ahead at the wall as if he found it fascinating—then around the circle of faces. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it. I, um, meant that…oh, gods…”