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snippily I thought. “No, I’m sorry, it’s your life, you do what you want with it. Just, well, you just do it on your own from now on, OK?”
    I sighed. Charm obviously wasn’t my strong suit today either. I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed again.
    â€œLook, Debs,” I started, but she cut me off.
    â€œYou can have your bits and pieces,” she said. “We’re still… whatever we were all those years ago, before I was ever stupid enough to start going to bed with you. Friends, I suppose. Whatever you want to call it. I wouldn’t want to see Wormwood eat you, OK?”
    At least that was something we could agree on.
    â€œThanks Debs,” I said. “I owe you one.”
    â€œYou owe me thirty-four, by my count,” she said.
    In all honesty it was probably more than that, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to say so just then. I stood there while she packaged up what I needed, feeling like some naughty schoolboy being told off in the headmistress’s office. At least she let me have it all on tick.
    â€œHere,” she said at last as she thrust an old supermarket carrier bag into my hands. “It’s all there.”
    I peeked into the top of the bag. It was all there as well, even the manticore spines.
    â€œYou’re a sweetheart,” I said.
    â€œI’m an idiot,” she muttered as she turned away. “Now go on, piss off before I change my mind.”
    I wanted to say something but I honestly couldn’t think what, and now she had her back to me as she fiddled with her tubes and things. Her shoulders were trembling, I noticed. I chickened out and left.
    It wasn’t that far back to my place, but the whole time I kept the bag clutched tight in my hand and a wary eye on the people around me. There’d be no replacing this stuff if it got nicked now. The bag was wriggling horribly on account of the toads, which I supposed reduced the chances of anyone actually wanting to pinch it, but all the same. In that neighbourhood you never knew.
    The Burned Man was waiting impatiently when I got back.
    â€œWell?” it said. “Did you blag it with her?”
    â€œShut up,” I muttered as I emptied the bag onto my workroom floor. “It’s all here.”
    â€œGood ol’ Debs,” it sniggered.
    â€œShut up,” I said again. “Just leave her out of it, OK?”
    â€œTouchy,” it said, and smirked. “Go on then, get us set up.”
    Getting us set up took most of the rest of the day. Summoning and sending is hard . By the time I had the circle laid out exactly right, it was dark outside. I stood back and admired my handiwork. It had taken an age to mix the iron filings with the goat’s blood and mercury until the consistency was just right, but now the end result was piped perfectly onto the outline of the grand summoning circle that was inscribed on the floor. I had used the powdered manticore spines to draw the correct glyphs inside each point of the pentacle, and done what was necessary with the toads. I put the knife down and stretched my back until it cracked, and looked at the Burned Man.
    â€œReady?” I asked it.
    I could see the hunger in its eyes.
    â€œReady,” it said.
    Of course, it was a fucking disaster.

Chapter Three
    S ometimes you just can’t get drunk enough. God only knew I was trying though.
    There’s this little trick I can do with probability. Not enough to win the lottery or beat Wormwood at Fates, more’s the pity, but I’m good enough to tickle the hundred quid jackpot out of the fruit machine in the Rose and Crown when I need to. As long as I don’t do it often enough to get Shirley suspicious, it’s all good. It keeps me in beer money if nothing else. I’d drunk about half of it so far and I was still awake, which was a lot less good. I don’t know if I even could have got drunk enough to forget the last few hours but I