There was a loud thud, but the old oaken door stood firm despite Edgar's strong kick. He was leaning against the plastered wall, rubbing his foot as Lee twisted the brass doorknob, testing it to see if Edgar's frustration had managed to do anything to the lock. The door was still standing firm, and, judging by the pain that had settled there, the kick had probably dealt more damage to Edgar's toes.

Lee pulled a slender stylograph from his belt, and he started tracing a familiar pattern just above where the lock would be – the same pattern that was visible in the centre of the old door, where it looked as though it had been singed into the wood. A quick glance at the faded inscription told him that Emmy must have drawn it, thick as it was, as she always put too much pressure on her stylograph.

The rune glowed gold as Lee drew a final loop, and the door flew open, banging against the wall. Edgar exchanged a quick glance with Lee – he was sliding his stylograph back into his belt – and then looked over at Joy; she pushed past the two of them with her dagger at the ready. Shooting a raised eyebrow in Lee's direction, Edgar followed, fumbling to draw his own sword from his belt.

He nearly stumbled as he stepped over the threshold; a quick glance down told him that the floor was covered in piles of books and loose papers, some of which the door had sent flying when it had opened, so the dust was still settling. Early morning light streaming in through the windows identified dust motes swirling around in the air, slowly spiralling back to the floor. The desk drawers had been yanked open, and their contents were strewn on the desk – Lee tiptoed over to it, tucking his unloaded crossbow under his arm as he did his best to avoid the mess. Joy moved to tentatively look into one of the open cupboards.

The tugging started once more, in the pit of Edgar's stomach, and he turned – it was leading him straight through an almost entirely emptied bookcase. The books hadn't been carefully removed; instead, they had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor, with the exception of a single volume. It was a large, leather-bound tome, and it sat snugly in a middle shelf, where a door handle would be – around hip height on Edgar. He reached out to touch it – the leather was old and cracked, and the pages were soft with age, like silk against his skin...

"I don't believe it," said Lee softly, and Edgar pulled his hand away from the bookcase as he turned towards his parabatai. He was kneeling just behind the desk, peering into one of the bottom drawers, and a frown had creased his forehead. "This drawer was locked tight when Emmy and I were here last. Not even an open rune could get it to budge. But now it's open?"

Both Edgar and Joy frowned, but it was only Joy who picked her way across the cluttered floor. She leant over the desk, peering into the drawer as Edgar turned back to the bookcase. "That's odd," he heard her say as he reached out, meaning to tug the book from its spot, but it didn't budge. Edgar frowned as Joy and Lee puzzled over the possible contents of the drawer – perhaps the book was just a little too big for the shelf. He tried again, placing his palm on the top corner of the book and pushing downwards. The strength rune on his arm burnt, and he once again felt the extra power that came from Lee's runes.

There was a click, and both Lee and Joy fell silent. A gap had opened up between the bookcase and the cupboard beside it – he could hear someone with heavy footsteps walking around, and Marcus' voice drifted into the office: "you're amongst my collateral damage." There was weak panting close to the wall, and Edgar recognised it instantly – it was exactly how Noah sounded after a long chase, when his stamina runes had burnt off. He turned to the other two, and he waved them over.

The two of them made their way over as quickly as they could, what with the obstacle course that was the office's floor. Marcus' voice came again as Edgar stepped aside to let Lee peer into the room beyond the bookcase – it was a small room, also full of clutter, but there was no body standing in the small line of vision the gap provided. "It won't be much longer," said Marcus softly, his tone somewhat reassuring. Noah's pants were weakening as he spoke.

"P-please, sir." Noah's voice was barely above a whisper, and the pull in Edgar's gut gave a weak tug, urging him forwards. He exchanged a glance with Lee – his parabatai's eyes were wide with fear on Noah's behalf, confirming Edgar's realisation that they only had minutes to act.

He heard Joy pull a second dagger from its scabbard as Edgar slid his fingers into the gap. Lee tugged at his crossbow, nocking the quarrel, and he raised it to his shoulder as Edgar heaved, pulling the bookcase aside.

Light streamed into the little office, quickly followed by the metallic stench of blood. Edgar raised his sword as the three of them stepped forward, blinking to help their eyes adjust. Their gaze swept over the little room – over Noah, who was sitting in the corner, clutching his arm, and surrounded by a pool of scarlet blood; over the pile of used glass vials on the desk; over the raven perched on a stack of papers – before settling on Marcus.

He turned, setting something down on the scratched desk with a clunk. His seraph blade was already in his fist as he grabbed Noah by the scruff of his gear jacket (ducking a dagger thrown by Joy), pulling him over to the desk as colour leeched from his face. A stream of blood followed him, spattering on old pieces of paper and on bare floorboards. A crossbow bolt went whizzing past Edgar's ear – it thudded into the wooden panelling, just as Marcus yelled, "Ubaviel!" The blade burst into cold blue flames, and he raised it to Noah's neck. "One move and he's dead," said Marcus, adjusting his grip on Noah's jacket.

Edgar shared a glance with Joy, and then with his parabatai; a seraph blade's heavenly fire could be as deadly to a demonhunter as any other paranormal – as any other being. The three of them lowered their weapons a little, and Edgar tried to catch Noah's eye – he was probably a little blinded by the flames in front of him, which were casting a wintry light on his skin, making his cheeks seem chalky white. Blood was dripping down his arm, soaking into the floorboards in such a way that Edgar knew an artery had been damaged. His friend had minutes, if that. Noah caught Edgar's eye, and he glanced down at his other hand in a pointed sort of way – Edgar followed his gaze. He had a throwing dagger clutched in his fist, with the blade directed towards Marcus' chest. Edgar gave his friend a quick nod, and he lowered his sword.

"Ah, good boy, Edgar." Marcus' face broke into a smile. "I knew you'd see it my way." He still didn't lower his seraph blade. Edgar could see the fire beginning to singe Noah's skin. He tore his eyes away from his friend, letting his gaze sweep over the room once more, searching for a form of distraction.

An ornate chalice sat on the desk, with golden light pouring from it, spilling from it like poisonous fumes would flow from a leaking pipe. His eyes settled on the jewel-encrusted rim, and then they darted over the inscription. "Sir, that's the Chalice," he said, his frown evident in his voice. "When did you steal it?"

Marcus gave one of his jolly belly laughs, the seraph blade shaking in his hand – Noah winced as the fire came closer to him. "Oh, last weekend. I popped up to London with a couple of students. You know, to supervise." An odd light was twinkling in his eyes – he seemed almost pleased with himself, at his ingenuity. "And now I have my potion, and I'll live forev–arrghh!"

The seraph blade fell from his grip, sending sparks everywhere as it hit the damp floorboards. Noah darted away from the older man, and Edgar saw the knife in Marcus' chest – it had sunk in up to its hilt. There was the beat of wings, and Munin swept over, its talons scraping Noah's arm before it landed on Marcus' shoulder.

Joy already had a stylograph in her hands, and she grabbed Noah's arm, scribbling healing runes onto his damaged skin as he leant back against the wall, letting his eyes close.

Edgar raised his sword once more in a flash, but the seraph blade was already in Marcus' hand, sputtering a little from the dampness of Noah's blood. A small click told him that Lee had reloaded. "Sir, with all due respect" – Edgar's lip curled a little at that – "it would be best if you gave in," said Lee, peering at Marcus down his crossbow. The two of them heard Joy lower Noah to the ground behind them. "You're outnumbered, and –"

Marcus laughed, despite the blood beginning to soak his shirt. "Quality over quantity, my boy." They heard Joy straighten up, and she joined the two of them, standing at Edgar's side with her weapons at the ready. Marcus' eyes tightened, but he gave no other indication that he might be in trouble. He shifted his weight so that he hid the Chalice from view. "This might be check, but it's not checkmate quite yet."

He shot them all a wild grin, and then there was a flash of fire. The seraph blade sped towards Noah, who was leaning against the wall, deathly pale and smeared with his own drying blood. There could be no evasive action on his part. Edgar ran forwards, meaning to swat the blade aside with his sword, but then –

Agony flared in his lower leg, and his knee crumpled, sending him crashing to the ground. The seraph blade was buried deep in his calf, still smouldering away. The flames were beginning to eat into his flesh, and he reached out, trying to pull the flaming sword out. His hands were batted away by Lee, who was on the floor beside him, the parabatai bond sending Edgar's pain through him, too. The burn began to climb, spreading through his veins, like deadly venom.

A triumphant caw made all four of them look up. Munin was perched on Marcus' shoulder as he raised the Chalice to drink. The golden potion looked like liquefied sunrays as it slowly dripped down towards his fuzzy, gnome-like beard...

Something whizzed overhead as Edgar leant against Lee – the fire had only reached his knee, but it was draining his energy fast, using it as fuel to engulf his flesh. There was the heavy crash of a metal object hitting the floor, and Edgar blinked, trying to clear his vision. The Chalice was next to him on the floorboards, and the potion had spilt, turning back to red now that it was away from the angelic magic. A frown creased Edgar's forehead, but then he heard Joy scream – she was one dagger short, and swiping the other at Munin, who had taken flight and was clearly trying to peck at her.

"No!" The Demonologie teacher had grabbed the Chalice, and he was trying to wring the blood on his shirt back into it, in an attempt to salvage the potion. "Now they died for nothing! Is this what you wanted? Is it?"

The office door banged open once more as Edgar closed his eyes, resting his head against his parabatai's chest. He felt Lee tracing healing runes on his arms, but the burn of the stylograph was only intensifying the inferno that was consuming him...

"Joy!" came Emmy's voice, and there was the twanging of a bow, followed by a raven's shriek of pain. "See, sir, I –"

There were more footsteps. "I see, Emmeline." The headmaster sounded grave. He continued to speak, but the words washed over Edgar, not carrying much meaning. He tried to force his eyelids open, but they were too heavy. Someone grabbed the sword in his leg and yanked – there was a flash of agony, and then nothing...