The lights were blazing at the manor.
Harold could see them all the way from the road. Even the cupola at the top of the house had someone with his high beam torch in it, flashing it towards the ground despite the limited view – it was a late addition to the house to mount a telescope and not designed with defence of the manor in mind.
Dill put his phone away. “Is it always like this?”
“Of course not. I haven't seen it like this since the angel Raphael attacked us during the nephilim massacre.” Harold came through the gates and accelerated up the curved avenue. Gillian was waiting for him in the stable yard.
“I saw you coming.” She was carrying both her sword and her compound bow.
Harold raised an eyebrow at the explosive-tipped arrows. “Trouble? I didn't think Felicia was quite that angry.”
“Not Felicia. Steve Turner, I think. It looked like him, anyway.”
“The golem?” Harold shook his head. “Not Steve, no. Jim Hunt's been making more of them. We saw it in in the woods. It damaged the van, look.” He pointed the the bent metal.
“Why is it attacking us? What does it want?”
“I don't know.” Harold stepped through the hole where the kitchen door used to be. “Is Lucy all right?”
“She's fine. She's in the priest hole with Molly.”
“It'll be following a set of instructions.” Dill looked at the kitchen door It had been ripped off its hinges and currently decorated the stable roof.
Harold ground his teeth together. “Following you, more like.”