Elsie and Ellini sat side-by-side in the Entrance Hall, paddling their feet in the air of another world. 

It was staggering. But it was also, somehow, cosy. Like Elsie herself, in fact.

She had opened a doorway to the demon realms right there, in the middle of the Entrance Hall. If Ellini turned round, she could see the staircase at her back, with its patterned, prosaic carpet, and its banisters polished raw by the hands of three hundred slave-girls. But, if she faced forwards, there was... well, where to start?

She tried to focus on the foreground, though even that was half a mile away. The dimensions were vast. They were sitting on a ledge overlooking what appeared to be a demon city. And it was a whole world: courtyards and domes and pillars and fountains, dizzying flights of rock-cut steps, giant stalagmites and stalactites that had been hollowed out and made into buildings, with glowing windows cut into the rock. 

And there were not just buildings – there was scenery. Mountains and valleys and ridges and – could those be forests? Composed of prickly black pines? And, matted at their base, were those thorns? Vines? Shiny black ivy? She couldn't believe it – a whole world in the colours of mourning. But, just like a pretty young widow, the black could do nothing to dampen its vivacity.

She didn't know why she had taken her shoes and stockings off. Elsie had suggested they spent the morning 'dipping their toes into the demon world' and somehow Ellini had felt compelled to take her literally. She had unpinned her hair too, though she wasn't sure this was a good idea. Every so often, it felt crackly, as though sparks were being earthed in it.

"It's... very beautiful," she said tentatively, as if asking permission to admire it.

Elsie drew her knees up to her chest and grinned. "Can you see your stories in it?"

Ellini hesitated. The terror of the idea that she had helped to form Eve's character was familiar to her now, but the idea that her silly stories had helped to shape the demon world – a whole world, in which millions of creatures had to live – that was a fresh horror, and not one she particularly wanted to dwell on.

"The Arabian Nights, certainly," she mumbled. "I can see the Arabian Nights." And then, in an effort to change the subject, she added, "Where are the demons who inhabit this place?"

"Oh, they're around," said Elsie. "But they won't come to me until they're called. I think – I'm not sure, but I think – it happens when I'm frightened. I get scared and call them to me without meaning to. That's why they're not here now – because Mr Danvers has been taking such good care of me."

"Yes," said Ellini, rather enviously. If you could listen to Mr Danvers – if you could be convinced by Mr Danvers – of course you wouldn't be afraid. You'd know about things like kindness and honour and good manners, and the latter might fill you with trepidation, but not fear.

"You've had a very charmed life so far," she said, staring at the lovely, smoky mountains, and the smouldering lakes. She was afraid it wouldn't last, but there was no denying that the girl was well-protected. She had Danvers to fill her with ideals, and Jack to take care of the practical side of things – keeping the zealots and inquisitors at bay. Perhaps it would work this time.

"What's it like to be a demon?" she asked at last.

Elsie giggled at the question. "I don't know. I've never been anything else, so I don't have anything to compare it with."

"All right, what's it like for the demons down there? Do they experience the world like humans do? Do they have free will?"

"Of course," said Elsie.

"But you control them?"

"No. They obey me."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

Elsie thought about this, swinging her feet languorously over the ledge. "I suppose it is a difficult distinction to understand. But it's like – well, you go on breathing in and out whether you're thinking about it or not, yes? It's an instinct. You don't have to be conscious of it. But sometimes you can overrule it, can't you? By holding your breath, or – or breathing really deeply when you need to calm down? That's what it's like with me and the other demons. They go on without my intervention – doing their own thing, living their own lives – but I can overrule them if I need to."

"But I can't overrule everything," Ellini protested. "I can't will my heart to stop beating."

"You?" said Elsie, looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "You could will anything."

Ellini didn't know how to respond to that. She thought it was an affectionate remark, but that just made her even more awkward. "It's... very beautiful," she repeated. 

Elsie clasped her on the shoulder, breathless with enthusiasm. "The best part is, the more stories I hear – the more things I find out – the more beautiful it becomes. I'm just like any other human or new-breed in that respect."

"How so?"

"Well, think of all the scenery you've got to call on when you need to imagine a place. Think of all the memories you've got to entertain you, and the characters – real and imaginary – who can keep you company in your quiet moments. You've read so much and seen so much that your mental world must be an incredibly rich place."

Ellini smiled. It was the first unwary smile she had given the girl since meeting her. Of course, Elsie couldn't see it, but she liked to think she sensed it, in her unfathomable, demon way.

"Rich, perhaps, but not necessarily positive."

***

She pulled on her stockings and shoes, passed Elsie into the reliable custody of Mr Danvers, and went out into the grounds to look for Robin. 

He had said he would meet her outside the Academy, but she knew better than to expect him at the front gates. Robin liked back doors and side-entrances. He liked hedgerows and shady paths.

She wasn't surprised therefore to find him at the eastern edge of the grounds, where the ring of gargoyles threaded through a little copse of birch trees. 

He was stalking around, waiting for her. He had addressed the issue of her fling with Jack by determinedly and aggressively not talking about it. But she couldn't deny that he was different with her now – colder, more matter-of-fact. She wondered whether their friendship – if indeed there had ever been one – could survive this.

As she approached, she saw his eyes shift to the right, as if he was looking at something beside her. There might even have been a momentary flicker of alarm – it was too quick to be sure. Ellini felt something brush past her arm and thunk into the turf ten feet in front of her. It quivered where it hit.

She turned instinctively, ducked under a flailing arm, grabbed it, yanked it, and flipped her attacker over her head, where she landed with a thud that knocked the breath out of her.

Recognition was slow to come. The girl was white-haired and skinny, just like all the other girls at the Academy. And, besides, there was heat coming from Ellini's arm now, wetness running down her sleeve. 

But those fat curls, that screeching voice, was horribly familiar. For a moment, she thought it was Violet come back from the dead, shrill and vengeful and looking for Jack. But then she realized she just mentally filed this girl into the same category as Violet, because they both hated her.

"Bitch," said Anna, as she struggled to her feet. She had a block of knives tucked under her arm – it must have been stolen from the kitchens – and she drew one out as she spoke. One of those wide, heavy meat knives that are only one step away from a cleaver.

"You started this," she hissed. "We were right where we belonged – right where we couldn't do any damage. And he was holy and righteous and forgiving! He could have taught us to be less wicked, less putrid – less you!"

She lobbed the meat-knife at Ellini. It didn't fly very straight, but something sharp and heavy careening through the air towards you can do a lot of damage, and she was lucky to avoid it. She threw herself to one side and felt the knife catch in her skirts. There was a sound like fingernails on satin, but no more heat, no more wetness.

Ellini dragged herself up onto her elbows, fumbled behind her, and brought up a fallen branch. It would be no good as a weapon, but she could perhaps use it to bat away the next volley of knives.

Robin was shouting something, but she couldn't hear. She was bewildered. She had forgotten why Anna hated her. She couldn't work out who this holy, righteous and forgiving man was. And she desperately didn't want to lose her temper. She could already smell smoke. She thought there was a crackling above her, up in the winter-bare branches. Oh, why had she left her hair down? She could hurt somebody – she could burn the Academy to the ground!

"Anna, can we talk-?"

Anna didn't want to talk. Ellini flailed out at the next knife with her stick, but it went wide. Rage must have been affecting the girl's aim. She hurled the whole block of knives at Ellini with a frustrated screech, but Ellini rolled to avoid it, and brought the branch up, catching Anna in the ribs as she went to dive onto her.

Anna dropped to the floor, panting raggedly, one hand curled at her side. Ellini's stomach lurched with dread. She wouldn't stop coming, no matter how much she got hurt...

"Anna, you're not well-"

"He always wanted you," she spat, because she hadn't enough breath left to shout. "He was transfixed by your villainy – paid a whore that looked like you instead of taking a woman who actually loved him!" She pointed a shaking finger. "That's what you do to people!"

Understanding and remembrance hit Ellini at the same time. Yes, this was the girl who thought they had all deserved to be in the fire-mines – who batted her eyelashes at the gargoyles – who had volunteered to be Charlotte Grey almost as often as Ellini, because she wanted to feel the cleansing lash of the whips. Of course she would have loved the master, and been jealous of his obsession with her.

And at the same time, without any apparent connection, she wondered if Anna had met anybody on her way out of the cells – if those kitchen knives had already been used before she'd got to Ellini.

Anna leapt again, but something had shifted in Ellini's head. She was not afraid of hurting her anymore. She kicked upwards and caught the girl's jaw with her boot.

There was smoke all around them now, being tousled and teased by the wind just like her loose hair. Ellini jumped to her feet while Anna was still reeling, clutching her jaw. She waited for some modicum of stillness – some window in the flailing arms – and then she punched her.

It was very neat, very quick. She had probably knocked her out, but Ellini wasn't taking any chances. She sat on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground, and tried to catch her breath, tried to peer through the thickening smoke and identify the figures who were running across the lawn towards her. 

The first one was big and shapeless, and announced her identity simply by saying, "Bloody 'ell, Leeny, you're covered in blood!"

Ellini tried to take a deep breath, but ended up choking on the smoke. "It's fine," she stammered. "Matthi, I'm fine. Only please – please send someone inside to check... Get Mr Danvers to take a register..."

There were more figures arriving through the smoke: Elsie and Danvers and – Ellini's heart sank and leapt at the same time – Jack and Elliott. 

The last two were out of breath, as if they had been running towards the source of the smoke from halfway down Headington Hill. And, presumably, Robin was still lingering around somewhere, outside the ring of gargoyles. She wondered whether all three men had ever been in the same place before.

She looked up to avoid the awkwardness, and saw, for the first time, the state of the birch trees above her. Their branches were laden with translucent flames, as light as spring blossom. 

Matthi was taking stock of the situation. She didn't look pleased – there was a kind of frozen grimace on her face – but she had the presence of mind to turn to Danvers and say, "I want every girl in the building assembled on the front lawn and checked off against the register."

"Lots of them will be at work in the city at this time, Miss – uh – Matthi."

"Looks like that's a good thing, doesn't it?" said Matthi, with grating cheer. "I want to know about any girl 'oo should be 'ere but isn't, understand? And I want you to check every room she would 'ave passed on the way up from the cellar."

"Yes, m – yes, ma'am," said Danvers. He threw one last wretched look at Anna, pinned under Ellini's bloodsoaked arm, and then hurried back towards the Academy.

"You can get up, Leeny," said Matthi, turning to her without a smile. "She's out cold."

Ellini, who had been crouched low over Anna like a predator guarding her kill, sat up a fraction.

"I should get yerself to the Infirmary and 'ave that arm seen to."

"It's fine," said Ellini. "It doesn't need stitches."

"Do you mind-?" said Jack, stepping forwards jerkily. She could see how tightly he was reining himself in – how much he wanted to take charge.

"You aint a Doctor," said Matthi, without looking at him.

"Battlefields, Matthi. How many have you been on?"

For a moment, her eyes flashed blue bloody murder, but then she stepped back and waved him towards Ellini with a contemptuous jerk of her head. Ellini wanted to protest that she'd had no say in the matter, but was too relieved at the lack of argument.

When Jack knelt beside her, she helped him with the buttons on her sleeve, remembering – with a surreal, sinking feeling – how she had helped him with the fastenings on her corset only a few days before. He was shaking, but probably with anger as much as fright.

And the girls, she thought, with a kind of numb horror. They were his girls just as much as they were hers and Matthi's – well, almost as much. And he was having to stand back while Matthi gave the orders, and Danvers took the register, all the while fearing that they could be dead! It hurt her head to think about it. 

"No, it doesn't need stitches," he said, removing his jacket, and tearing a strip off his shirtsleeve to bandage her with. "This is temporary, Miss Syal. As soon as you're finished here, I want you to see Dr Petrescu at the Faculty. He'll make a proper dressing for this wound."

Ellini squirmed at the very idea. But Matthi sneered at it, and she was, most unfortunately, quicker off the mark.

"We got our own nurses 'ere, Mr Cade. We got our own medicine cabinet. Stocked it yerself, didn't ya?"

Ellini caught his eye and muttered, almost inaudibly, "Please don't fight."

Jack said nothing. Perhaps he pulled the bandage a little tighter than it needed to be pulled, but he didn't rise to Matthi's provocation.