Chaos Descends. Shane Hegarty

it would certainly appear to be a countdown,” she said. “He’s planning something. Building up to something. And he wants us to know it.”

      There was a brief outbreak of whispering and discussions between the members of the Twelve and their assistants. Finn saw his own father silently berate himself. He was so distracted by Broonie’s escape he’d missed this vital deduction.

      While this was going on, Finn noticed that the impassive assistant to the sleeping Stumm, light bouncing off his utterly bald head, carried a square briefcase. It was red and weathered, the gold paint of its locks largely peeled away. Spotting Finn eyeing it, the assistant gripped the briefcase just a smidgen tighter.

      “I wonder what’s in that case?” Finn whispered to Emmie.

      “I don’t know,” she said, leaning forward on her beanbag for a better look. “Their lunch?”

      “They handcuff their lunch to an assistant?” He had noticed a chain running from the man’s sleeve to a cuff at the case’s handle.

      Cedric cleared his throat. “If it’s a countdown, then what is it counting down to?”

      “More victims?” wondered Estravon.

      “Or something bigger,” said Steve.

      “What of the Hogboon who arrived here from the Infested Side?” asked Aurora. “Were we able to extract information from him?”

      Finn hoped they didn’t see his eyes widen at the mention of Broonie.

      “He is contained,” said Hugo calmly, even as the scanner at his feet showed Broonie loose about Darkmouth. “Besides, I think he answered all he could. There was a fair amount of prodding.”

      “True, there was prodding,” said Cedric. His blond assistant leaned in and whispered something. “And quite a lot of poking,” concluded Cedric.

      Finn could see that the blue dot was on the move. Not towards the wormery at the allotments, but further into town. It looked like Broonie was heading for the main street. Hugo was doing well to hide his anxiety, but they both knew that this was about to get very messy indeed.

      “About Mr Glad,” said Aurora. “Tell us again how he died. It was, I believe, in this very room.”

      Finn and Emmie exchanged a glance. They’d both been there at that terrible moment.

      “I pushed him,” Finn answered. “Into a gateway. And he became sort of stuck in it.”

      “He wriggled,” said Emmie. “Tried to get out.”

      “But it was like he was being bitten, and the jaws were tightening,” said Finn. “Eventually, it became too much and when the gateway closed he just kind of vaporised in a spray of light.”

      “Golden light,” said Emmie. “Right over there.” She pointed to the spot where it had happened, now betraying no evidence of the strange events that had taken place there not even a year before.

      “If he was caught between gateways, could it be that …?” Aurora asked quietly, addressing the rest of the Twelve.

      “Could it be what?” Emmie whispered to Finn, who shrugged his shoulders.

      “Such a phenomenon was never proven,” Cedric spluttered. “Rumoured but never proven.”

      “Yes,” replied Aurora, “but there is one important place where it was once rumoured to have occurred.”

      “What are they talking about?” asked Finn.

      “The Trapped,” said his father bluntly, as if it was something he had hoped to avoid saying. “They’re talking about the Trapped.”

      “Ahem, if I may,” said Estravon, taking a few steps towards Finn and Emmie. “The Trapped are a myth even among myths, talked of but never seen. They are those souls caught in gateways, between worlds, and said to live in that space thereafter.”

      “But they do not come back,” said Aurora with certainty.

      “There have been stories,” said Cedric. “At least one Legend Hunter who believed they could.”

      “That is for another time,” Hugo said, sounding like he wanted to cut off this discussion before it got any further. “For now, what is the plan? I presume that as Darkmouth’s Legend Hunter I will be expected to deal with this situation?”

      “Yes,” said Cedric, glancing at the other members of the Twelve.

      “Good,” said Hugo, making to stand up.

      “And … no,” said Aurora, leaving Hugo to hover, neither sitting nor standing. “This is a big day for our kind. The biggest in many years. Our greatest triumph in decades. A new Legend Hunter. After which you will join us as a member of the Twelve. Then, perhaps, we can start making plans for Emmie here too.”

      Finn blushed. He sensed Emmie sitting a little taller at the compliment.

      “We must not hesitate,” said Cedric.

      “If necessary,” continued Aurora, looking to the bald assistant attached to the case, “we must take extraordinary measures. You will deal with it for now, Hugo. But if things are not resolved quickly we will intervene.”

      Hugo glanced at the case too, sighed. “Fair enough.”

      Finn looked down at the scanner. It showed Broonie wandering straight into the centre of Darkmouth. There would be chaos out there. And disgust. Panic. Excitement. Trouble. His dad was obviously thinking the same thing.

      Further along the row of the Twelve, another member stood, a very tall man in a black robe with light blue leather edges, and a medallion bearing the number 2. The skin sagged on his face and on the finger he raised.

      “Lazlo the Second,” announced Estravon, realising he needed to introduce him as was the way of things.

      The rest of the room hushed. Lazlo inhaled, working himself up to what was obviously going to be a very important intervention.

      “In my blighted village we have a saying,” he said. “Hairy feet are no substitute for comfortable shoes.”

      Lazlo sat again, with the aid of his assistant who draped his black robe over the back of a floral kitchen chair.

      No one seemed to know quite how to respond.

      “I’m going to have to find a way to break up this meeting,” Hugo mumbled to Finn as the thrum of elders and assistants rose again.

      Finn had a moment of inspiration, words so powerful that for a long time after he would be shocked by their impact. “Who needs to use the toilet?”

      There was quite a rush for the door.

      

      They hurried the ten members of the Twelve and their assistants from the house without wanting to give the impression they were pushing them out.

      They jumped in the car without wanting to give the impression they were hurrying anywhere in particular.

      They tracked Broonie through Darkmouth without wanting to look like they were tracking anything at all.

      Blip went the scanner.

      “I can’t believe he escaped,” went Hugo.

      “Sorry,” said Finn.

      “Just as the Council of Twelve turns up.”

      “I know.”

      “While Half-Hunters are being vaporised by Mr Glad.”

      “That