The Royal Wedding from Hell Read online

CHAPTER TWO

  Clarence House 29th April 2011, 8:30am

  Harry was woken up by loud knocks on his bedroom door. He sat up, slowly and carefully. His head was pounding and his body ached. His memory was foggy.

  He’d gone to sleep early, maybe around 9:00pm, knowing that something big was happening today. He’d needed a good night’s sleep. With the way he felt, he hadn’t got that good night’s sleep.

  The knocking on the door became a hammering. He grabbed his robe and stumbled over to open it. Wills was there.

  “What in hell happened to you last night?” asked Wills.

  Harry turned and stumbled back to his bed and promptly slumped forward onto it. “I went to bed and didn’t sleep very well,” he groaned, “maybe I can sleep now. So if you’ll excuse me…”

  Wills stormed into the room, making Harry groan. “Christ, Harry,” said Wills, “I thought we were done with all this. You choose a bloody awful time to resume your party-boy career. I am getting married, you are supposed to be best man and there will be two billion bloody viewers. And it is happening today.” Wills grabbed Harry’s shoulder and yanked him over.

  “Married? Today?” said Harry, grasping for the two concepts. Memories started to collide. That’s why he went to bed early; he was supposed to be up and with it for the wedding. He sat up with a gasp and dived for the bedside table. The rings, where were the bloody rings? He pulled out the drawer and grabbed the small black box. He popped it open, sighing in relief as he saw the two gold bands.

  “Well at least the rings are still around,” said Wills, not hiding the disgust in his voice. “Do you know if Pippa made it back to the Goring Hotel last night?”

  “Pippa? Why would I know where Pippa is? I’ve been here all night.”

  Wills started to shake his head but saw something in his brother’s eyes. He sat next to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. “You weren’t here last night, mate, I checked. I checked after Kate called to say that Pippa was missing.”

  Harry looked worried. “I was here. I didn’t go anywhere, I swear.”

  “I looked in here at about half eleven,” said Wills, calm and slow now, “and you were not here, not in your bathroom.”

  Harry looked down at the rings. There was something about them that bothered him. His hand wrapped around the black box, clutching them tight. He looked at Wills.

  “I’m sure I never went anywhere,” said Harry, “Maybe five or six years ago I’d have the kind of bender that would make me forget even going out. But not now. You know that.”

  “You weren’t in your bed,” said Wills, “that’s all I know. Something weird’s going on here. I mean, I believe you, I believe you didn’t go out to some party but, like I said, I know what I saw.”

  Harry noticed the time. “I guess it doesn’t matter right now.” He managed a smile for his brother. “It’s your wedding day and just because something weird has happened to me, you are not using it as an excuse to avoid marrying Kate. She’d kick my teeth in for a start.”

  There was a knock on the door. Their father poked his head in. “All well with the chaps?” he asked, “Ready to face the enemy? Not that Kate’s the enemy of course. Just a phrase really.”

  “All good, Dad,” said Wills, rising.

  “Marvellous, marvellous, excellent,” said Charles. He stepped into the room with a glass of a bubbling orange drink in his hand. He passed it to Harry. “Heard there’d been some high jinks. Thought you might be needing this. No shame in having a bit of boy’s night out just before the big day.

  “Your Uncle Andrew took me out the night before I married your mother. Shit-faced, completely shit-faced. Woke up with my special branch chappie on the floor of Browns in Shoreditch. They were very good about the whole thing, very discreet. But then I’d been a patron for years.”

  His sons looked at him.

  “Maybe said too much,” said Charles, “anyway, time you chaps should be getting ready.”

  Goring Hotel 29th April 2011, 8:30am

  “Thank Christ,” said Kate, to her weary-looking sister, “you’re back. And without Harry.”

  Pippa raised her pounding head and looked at Kate, who was stood in her doorway, curlers still in, flannelette robe, tightly bound at her waist. “You are quite aware that Harry and I are just friends and I have no wish to come between him and Chelsy. And I haven’t been anywhere.”

  Kate’s eyebrows shot up as she heard her sister’s blatant lie. She stomped further into Pippa’s room and pointed at a pile of clothes on the floor. “So why’s your commando gear on t’floor then, if you didn’t go nowhere last night?”

  Pippa slid round on the bed, still feeling too rough to sit up. She looked at the black clothes and boots without any comprehension. They should be locked up in the secret compartment. She certainly hadn’t removed them.

  With Kate still fuming, Carol, their mother, swept in with a glass full of a bubbling concoction. “Get this down you, love,” she said, handing it to Pippa. Carol turned to Kate. “And you, get them bloody curlers out and start getting ready. You are getting wed today, aren’t you?”

  “Mother,” said Kate, “our Pippa’s been out on t’town all night and you don’t want to know where?”

  “Pippa’s an adult,” said Carol, “and she’s here now. So shut your gob and get out.” Kate stomped away. “And don’t give me that look. You might be marrying t’Prince, but you’re not so old as I can’t put you over my knee, young lady!”

  Pippa sat up and sipped at the drink. “What’s this?” she asked, wincing at its taste.

  “Liz gave me the recipe,” said Carol.

  “The Queen gave you a hangover cure?”

  “Aye,” said Carol, “she rang earlier saying she’d heard that you might be needing something. She mentioned Harry would having the same problems.”

  Pippa shook her head and downed the rest of the drink. “But I wasn’t out last night. With Harry or anyone.”

  “You can stick with that story,” said Carol taking the glass and turning to leave, “but there’s not much that my mate Liz don’t know about.”

  Westminster Abbey 29th April 11:00am

  The organ struck up with Parry’s “I was glad.” The congregation, all two thousand heads of state, prominent people, celebrities and all-round general worthies stood. Most looked round towards the Great West door, down the Nave, wanting their first look at the bride and her dress. Wills glanced towards his family. His father gave him a quick thumbs up. His Grandfather looked stern. The Queen’s face was blank. The best man looked at his feet.

  Harry was seething. His initial confusion over his amnesia had dissipated. Now he just stood to the side of his brother and struggled to keep his growing rage inside.

  How dare he? How dare he suggest that Harry had been out, living it up and not acting responsibly? His right hand quivered and it was an effort to not draw his sword and swing it at Wills.

  He took a deep breath. From the back of his mind came memories of the loyalty he felt to his brother and family. He had been insulted, gravely, but he knew he could not act now. Later, he thought, later he could take some revenge.

  He blinked and came back to himself. Harry felt cold sweat on his face and body. Revenge? What the hell was he thinking about? Why the hell should he want to get revenge on Wills? He remembered the insults from earlier and felt the bile rising up again but he pushed it back.

  He closed his eyes for a few moments, concentrating on the powerful music of the organ and the muffled murmurings of the congregation. His right hand relaxed and he reached into his pocket. The rings were still there; he knew where he was and what he was doing. Everything would be alright.

  Wills nudged him. Harry opened his eyes and looked to his brother. Wills was very pale. His nerves made Harry smile.

  “How does she look?” asked Wills.

  Harry glanced back over his shoulder to watch Kate in her dress coming up the aisle with her Yorkshireman father.

 
“By ‘eck,” he said, with a poor Yorkshire accent, “she looks grand.”

  Wills laughed but kept his eyes straight ahead.

  Harry looked back once more and caught Pippa’s eye. He felt his guts squirm. His mouth went dry and he thought once more of Wills’ betrayal. He couldn’t push the thought away.

  Pippa smiled as the cameras clicked, but inside, she was a ball of searing hatred. Her fingers, clenched at the hem of the wedding dress’s train, were digging into the material. It was an effort not to rip holes in it.

  She wondered if Kate could feel her eyes burning into her back as she glared. She wondered if Kate could feel the unbridled sense of fury that Pippa felt.

  Stupid girl, thought Pippa. Kate was nought but a stupid girl, playing at being a Princess with her stupid, vulgar accent and even stupider, moron Prince. Pippa caught sight of the balding back of Will’s head, right up at the top of the aisle.

  His idiot brother looked back at her. Pippa blinked as she saw the strange gleam in Harry’s eyes. Her stomach churned and mouth went dry.

  It was time. Harry was just as furious as she was. In her mind’s eye she saw Harry drawing his sword and striking Wills’ head from his body. She saw herself diving forward, twisting the train around Kate’s neck and pulling and pulling while she choked and died.

  Harry blinked and his eyes went cold. Pippa shivered and calmed down.

  Not yet, she thought, but soon. Wait until they are wed with the rings, wait for the smiles and cheering. Then show my true face.

  She looked at Harry again. Behind his eyes, Pippa could see that fury and hatred were waiting.

  Seated across from Wills and Harry, the Queen’s shaking hand shuffled towards the Duke of Edinburgh. Phillip looked at the woman sat beside him. Her eyes, which were glassy and cold, were flaring out, filled with fear. He grabbed her hand. It was icy to touch. He squeezed it, knowing he could not provide warmth. He just hoped that she would feel his touch and that somehow, she would know he was thinking of her. Over and again he thought, I’m with you Lilibet, I’m with you.

  Westminster Abbey 11:30am

  The Archbishop of Canterbury intoned his last, powerful Amen. The organ struck up the opening bars of “Love divine, all loves excelling.” Kate and Wills were married.

  The Archbishop beamed, happy for Wills and Kate and happy that he’d made it through a ceremony that he hadn’t performed for over a decade.

  Wills beamed, feeling a slight dizziness that Kate was finally, happily, his wife.

  Kate beamed, all the stress and nerves of the previous days gone. And Wills was finally, happily, her husband.

  The congregation beamed. Outside the Abbey, across the streets of London, at street parties up and down the nation, and in front of screens across the globe, millions more people beamed at the moment of romance and wonder.

  Pippa and Harry glared at Kate and Wills, then each other. They smiled as fangs grew in their mouths. Memories of what they really were boiled into their minds. Their eyes glowed red and their hands twisted into claws.

  Tate Modern 11:30am

  Harry tried to open his eyes. With an effort he stretched his eyelids to slits and found that all was veiled by a deep, crimson blur. He tried to move his arms and legs and found they were stuck to his sides. His head was pounding, his lips were gummed over like the rest of him and air could just about rasp through a thin slit near his nose.

  He refused to panic. The last thing he remembered was jumping for that oozing mass, suspended above the dark hole. Squinting through the red slime, he could make out a darker shape nearby. Further off, a smaller shape was moving back and forth.

  He wriggled around, hearing a slurping noise as his legs, still pinned together but able to move, detached from the floor. He kicked at the other shape and heard a defiant groan come back. It sounded like Pippa.

  The other shape stopped strutting up and down and jumped forward, towards Harry. Excellent he thought, got the little bastard’s attention.

  Gorko gave Harry a solid kick in the midriff. Harry was expecting it and flexed back. The blow still made him grunt, but it brought the stunted creature nearer to the Prince.

  Harry swung his legs up and felt them hit Gorko in the back. He twisted with everything he had and felt Gorko fall. With an effort that made his back and muscles burn, he tore his body away from the floor, though it remained covered in the thick slime. Gorko bucked and wriggled. Harry squirmed too and he found himself pinning the twisted creature to the floor.

  Gorko lashed at Harry; his ragged claws ripped at the layer of slime covering the Prince. Harry winced as the claws dug in but he could feel the thick covering being torn away. He headbutted the monster for good measure. It hurt- Gorko had a thick skull- but it also drove him into a wilder frenzy.

  Harry felt more blows to his back and sides and finally the writhing creature shoved him off. Harry rolled across the floor, hitting Pippa’s gunged body. Thrusting out with his arms, Harry finally pulled them free of the slime. He pulled at the goo which covered his face and tore it away with a wrench that made his skin sting.

  Now his eyes were properly open, he could see the twisted creature leaping up and down in rage. Harry started to wrench at the slime which still pinned his legs together but Gorko flexed his claws and jumped.

  Westminster Abbey 11:30am

  Elizabeth’s cold hand squeezed Phillip’s. He looked at her from the corners of his vision. Her face was still cold, grey, unreadable, but her eyes flashed.

  Phillip felt his mouth go dry. He turned to look at her properly and reached over to turn her head towards him. He could see Charles bristle at his movements, at a moment when the whole world should be watching Wills and Kate. The Duke of Edinburgh ignored his son and looked hard into his wife’s grey eyes.

  The message was not formed in words, but it was loud and clear to Phillip. They’re waking up, she’d said. Phillip looked round, back to Wills and Kate and the Archbishop. Then he noticed Harry and Pippa moving towards the happy couple. Phillip saw their growing talons and glowing eyes.

  Tate Modern 11:35am.

  A powerful boom shook the crimson chamber and Gorko jerked sideways in the air. The creature’s body hit the ground like a watermelon dropped from a great height. It was riddled with sizzling gunshot holes. Smoke and flame flicked out of the wounds, but Gorko still sat up.

  Harry jumped up and aimed a steel toe-capped boot at Gorko’s face. The creature spat fire and caught Harry’s foot with its claw. It flipped the Prince around and Harry thumped to the floor.

  Gorko rose with yellow smoke hissing from the gunshot wounds. Harry rolled as Gorko dived. The creature tore at Harry, sending needles of burning pain down Harry’s side. The pain just made Harry mad. He shot up and swung a hard right hook at Gorko.

  The creature seemed surprised when Harry’s fist slammed into its face and staggered back. Harry followed up with a left then right hook combo and then a knee to Gorko’s midriff. Gorko slumped to the ground with a growl.

  “Sod this,” said Harry and he kicked at Gorko’s head again. This time, the steel toe-cap hit home.

  With a glutinous pop, the creature’s head split from its neck and went bouncing across the floor. Oily flames and smoke plumed out of its neck and the body collapsed, dissolving to the floor.

  “Well done dear,” said the Queen, stepping forward dressed in army fatigues. Beside her was Phillip, also in combat gear and wielding an insanely large blunderbuss in his hands. Purple smoke drifted from its muzzle.

  “Gran, Gramps,” said Harry, “what are you doing here? What time is it? What about the wedding?”

  The Queen stepped forward. “We’re here to save you. The time is about half eleven and the wedding is happening as we speak.”

  There was a muffled shout, a slurping noise, and then Harry felt his legs kicked away. He hit the ground. As he jerked upright, Pippa’s legs, still gummed together, smacked him in the face.

  “Fuck it,” he said, “sorry
Pippa.” He caught his Grandmother’s eye. “Sorry about the language Gran.”

  He reached over and ripped at the gel coating Pippa’s head. She emerged, coughing and spluttering. “What the fuck is happening?” She noticed the Queen. “Ah, sorry ma’am.”

  “Good morning, Miss Middleton,” said the Queen. She reached for Phillip’s arm and grabbed it, needing to steady herself. “Hurry up, Harry, get Miss Middleton out of that mess. You have much to do.”

  Harry tore at the slime that coated Pippa; in moments she was free.

  “Gran,” asked Harry, “how come they’re still having the wedding even though the best man, bridesmaid and the Queen of bloody England aren’t there?”

  “Therein lays the issue,” said Elizabeth, too weary to arch an eyebrow at her Grandson’s colloquialisms. “I am attending the wedding by using a doppelganger. However, I am assisted by my doppelganger of Phillip, here.”

  Harry looked closer at the figure he had assumed was his grandfather. The physical resemblance to the man he knew was perfect, but the numb expression and cold eyes told the truth.

  “So there are dopplegangers of Harry and I at the wedding too?” said Pippa.

  “Correct, Miss Middleton,” said the Queen.

  “What the hell are they doing?” asked Harry.

  The Queen slipped down to sit on the floor. She put her head in her hands. “Through my own doppelganger, I can sense some of what is happening back at the Abbey. I can sense that some dark power is waking them up. They thought that they were you; they had no idea that they were just constructs. But now their true nature is coming through.”

  “You mean they’re not like Gramps? Not just comatose copies?” said Harry.

  “It takes a lot of power to build a doppelganger. In the short time we had, I was able to build copies of me and Phillip, but copies without any higher brain function. The enemy we face has been absorbing power for some time now.” She looked up; her face was sick and pale. She gestured towards their grim, crimson surroundings. “This thing was part of the enemy’s plan. By sucking in crowds, the enemy has been absorbing energy. Their enthusiasm, their disgust, their emotions, all have been provoked by this monstrosity and channelled into raw power.

  “And that power is now being twisted into raw hate and is pumping through the dopplegangers of you and Miss Middleton here. You need to get back to the Abbey.”

  Harry shook his head. “Gran, you’re in no shape to go anywhere. Pippa and I will help you get back to the Palace, then we’ll head to Westminster. If I know my brother and, by now, sister-in-law, they’ll be making short work of those monsters.”

  “You don’t understand,” said the Queen with a heavy sigh. “Any injury received by the doppelganger will be felt by its progenitor. If your brother kills the doppelganger Harry, then you’ll be killed too.

  “The only one who can kill one’s doppelganger is oneself.”

  “We can’t leave you here, Gran,” said Harry.

  “You can and must. Besides, I’ll need to neutralise this horrific construction. It requires subtler skills than you possess. We need to get you to the Abbey. Let me compose myself. I shall try to summon a carriage.”

  Harry shook his head and pulled his sleeve back to reveal a chunky wristband. He tapped at a couple of buttons. A small display lit up. Harry smiled. “No need, Gran. Magic is all very well, but we need something a bit quicker.”

  Westminster Abbey 11:30am

  Just as the dopplegangers leapt, Phillip roared with a voice that had commanded battleships.

  “Kate, Wills, down!”

  From the corner of his eye, Wills saw the movement of his brother. Grabbing his bride, the future King dived forward, bowling into the Archbishop of Canterbury.

  “Holy buggery!” exclaimed Doctor Williams.

  Harry and Pippa crouched like panthers waiting to spring. Harry hissed “Your day is gone, Man of God, prepare to die.”

  “Like crap,” thundered Williams, “I was hurling demons back to the abyss when you weren’t even spawned.” He wrenched his heavy, golden crucifix from around his neck and stepped towards the two dopplegangers. The crucifix started to glow with a holy heat. The Archbishop began to incant in Latin.

  Harry and Pippa’s laughs echoed through the vaulted chambers of the Abbey, causing the stunned congregation to look around in fear. “Is that all you’ve got, Archbishop?” taunted Pippa, “Let’s take him.”

  Harry and Pippa charged together. Harry batted aside the crucifix and Pippa slashed at Williams with her claws. The Archbishop toppled with the two snarling beasts on top of him.

  Pippa sunk her teeth into his neck and Williams roared in pain. Harry bit into the Archbishop’s shoulder. Williams’s screaming stopped and his body twitched and spasmed beneath the demonic pair.

  Wills and Kate watched in horror as the skin of the Archbishop’s face shrank back against the bones of his skull. It grew tight as his eyeballs swelled and protruded. Harry’s tunic started to split at the seams as his body grew. A tear ripped down the back of Pippa’s tight, white dress from her shoulders to her pert backside.

  The dopplegangers jumped up, both now swollen and bulky. Their mouths were twisted with blood-drenched fangs, their eyes blazed with crimson power. At their feet, the Archbishop of Canterbury was just a crumbing husk, sucked dry of life.

  Kate felt her left hand tremble with power. She looked to see the blue sapphire of her engagement ring glowing.

  Wills felt a vibration at his hip. He drew his sword to find it glowing white. As he swung it round, he saw the doppelganger Harry’s eyes widen at the sight.

  The demon forms of Harry and Pippa closed in.

  Buckingham Palace 11:38am

  Reg Tansley made a couple more swipes of his cloth across the smooth body of the Aston Martin DB6. It was a beautiful car and it pained him that it belonged to Prince Charles. The Prince of Wales had barely driven it, and had certainly never unleashed its awesome speed.

  At least it would be driven today, even if it was only from Buckingham Palace to Clarence House. Reg sighed as he looked up and regarded some of the other vehicles.

  There was that 1925 Silver Ghost, supposedly driven by King George VI, in a desperate escape from Serbia in 1928. There were a couple of bullet holes in the bodywork, so maybe it was true.

  Then there was that one-of-a-kind Ferrari which, legend had it, had been customised so that it could actually fly. Apparently it had been an idea of Prince Andrew’s, back in his playboy days.

  He looked over at Princess Anne’s rather funky TR7, the Morgan that was missing two of its wheels and the amphibious Bentley. Wonderful, wonderful machines and so little appreciated.

  He returned his attention to the Aston Martin, giving one more flick. Yes, he thought, perfect.

  With a growl, its engine turned on. Reg fell back in surprise. The lights flashed on, the engine revved. Reg staggered to his feet and stumbled round in front of the car without a driver. It beeped at him. Reg stood aside.

  The Aston Martin shot forward, performed a 90 degree hand-brake turn, and roared up the exit ramp. Reg saw the door slide up just as the Aston Martin reached it. The door slid down again and the car was gone, out into the light.

  Reg looked at the space where the car had been. How was he going to explain this?

  Westminster Abbey 11:40am

  Harry drew his sword. At first it was just gleaming steel, but he clenched his talons around the hilt and the sword soon started smoking, giving off black, oily fumes. With a roar, he leapt at Wills slashing wildly with the eldritch blade.

  Wills parried the blows, each clash of blades sending sparks of black and white lightning flying. The doppelganger Harry’s strength was unworldly and Wills was soon backing towards the altar. Around them screams began to fill the Abbey.

  Kate had no time to come to the aid of her husband. The doppelganger Pippa had charged at her, claws outstretched, grasping to gouge out Kate’s eyes. But Kate was not afraid. She
may have been raised and groomed to be a Lady, but her heart and soul were all Yorkshire.

  “Bring it on, bitch,” Kate shouted. She let Pippa come in close before letting fly with a ferocious left-hook. The glowing ring of Diana slashed across Pippa’s cheek, causing the demonic minion to tumble sideways.

  Pippa scowled at Kate and tensed for another leap. Kate brought both fists up. “Where’s my fucking sister?” growled Kate.

  “She’s dying,” said the demon Pippa.

  “You’ll fucking die first,” said Kate.

  “I have more important things to do,” said Pippa, “than deal with the whore of a soon-to-be-dead Prince.”

  “Who are you calling a fucking whore?” shouted Kate. The Pippa demon bared her bloody fangs in a sick grin and kicked Kate with enough force to send the new Duchess sprawling back. Pippa turned and leaped, flipping over pews to land in the midst of the choir.

  Kate grabbed at the skirt of her wedding dress. “I thought this was the dumbest idea,” she muttered as she pulled at a series of hidden clasps, “but it seems the bastards were right.” The skirt came away to reveal Kate’s legs clad in tight, pearly white leggings. “Of course, MI5 said it was in case I needed to run and escape, not to chase after some monster.” She bounded up and after the doppelganger sister.

  “You will have to run, I think,” said the Queen. She was on her knees with a block of charcoal in one hand, marking a series of long lines along the floor beneath the horrid structure above.

  Harry stood nearby, feeling helpless. Pippa was walking along some of the lines that the Queen had finished. The doppelganger Phillip strode around with the blunderbuss. His cold eyes peered into the shifting gloom in the corners of the hall.

  “Run where, Gran?” asked Harry.

  “From the edge of my pentagram to your vehicle, when it arrives,” said the Queen.

  “It won’t be a problem,” said Harry, “The car will come straight in the side entrance. We won’t have far to go.”

  Pippa took a step over the line, but jumped back quickly. “Make sure you get the car as close as possible, Harry.”

  “Miss Middleton understands,” said the Queen.

  “It’s the darkness,” said Pippa, “there are ...things in it. Dark, cold things.”

  “Our enemy has allowed them to come through from the abyss,” said the Queen. “Phillip and the blunderbuss will help hold them back, but beyond the limits of my pentagram, you will just have to run very fast and vacate this place.”

  There was a screech from outside. Harry checked his wristpad. “Our car has arrived.” He turned to his Grandmother. “Gran, we can’t leave you here with these dark things. I’ll bring the car right here.”

  “No,” said the Queen with a voice that commanded far more than a nation, “the car cannot break the pentagram. And my work is not finished here.” She looked up at the grim structure that filled the hall. It was trembling. “As you can see, dark forces are coming to life, but I can contain them. You and Miss Middleton must get to the Abbey. I will transfer from here when my work is complete. Now hurry up.”

  Harry knew better than to try to answer back. He hit some more keys on the wristpad.

  The glass doors at the end of the turbine hall were smashed as the DB6 charged in. It screeched to a stop about ten yards from where Pippa stood.

  “We’ll be going then, Ma’am,” said Pippa, trying to focus on the car and not the darkness around it.

  Harry joined her and felt the cold from beyond on his skin.

  “When Phillip fires, run for the car,” said the Queen. She looked up from her drawing. “Good luck.”

  The doppelganger Phillip strutted up beside Pippa. He raised the blunderbuss.

  His shot lit up the darkness. Harry caught a glimpse of whispy, snake-like beings, all darting away from the flare. He grabbed Pippa’s arm and started running.

  Ten yards never felt so much like a hundred, thought Pippa. She dived for the car, feeling icy tendrils lick her legs. Harry tumbled into the driver’s seat while she tried to twist around into the passenger seat. “Go, Go!” she shouted.

  Harry didn’t need telling twice. He hit the accelerator and the car roared out of the darkness, through the broken doors and into the daylight.

  Westminster Abbey

  The choir boys screamed as the demonic Pippa landed among them. James O’Donnell, the Master of the Choristers stepped forward, his lip impeccably stiff. He brandished his conducting baton at Pippa.

  “Steady boys, no need to fear, we have the power of voice with us,” he called.

  The forty-eight boys and men of the choir calmed themselves and began a Latin incantation.

  Pippa snarled and slashed at O’Donnell. Her talons ripped through his throat, sending his neck swinging back and a gush of blood firing upwards. The blood splattered across Pippa, staining her white dress crimson. Much of it was caught in her wide-open mouth.

  The incantation stopped. Horrified, the choristers watched as blood bubbled and frothed from Pippa’s lips and between her growing fangs. The foaming liquid turned black as unholy fumes spiralled from her demonic maw. Rows of white, sickened faces could not tear their gaze from her.

  Pippa spat. The hideous black effluence sprayed out across the choristers, making them recoil in disgust. Many collapsed, wailing in pain and clutching at their eyes. The demon threw back her head and laughed. Her laugh was cut short as Kate’s dropkick slammed into her spine.

  The demon rolled and glared up at Kate. Kate, ready to kick at the demon’s head, halted as she looked at the choristers.

  “What have you done?” she whispered.

  “Those angelic voices, those angelic boys,” taunted Pippa, “they serve my Mistress now.”

  Kate noticed a sweet-faced lad of about twelve clutch his stomach and double over. The boy vomited, spraying viscous black gloop across the marble stones of the Abbey. When he straightened up, the sweet face was gone. His eyes were now orbs of black, his face was slate grey and fangs protruded from his mouth. He sprang at Kate with outstretched claws.

  She elbowed him in the face and her kick sent the little monster sprawling. As he hit the ground he just rolled into a crouch, ready to spring again.

  “Ignore her,” shouted Pippa, “spread the poison, get the family. I’ll take this whore.”

  Kate got a cracking right hook in before Pippa managed to recover and block the Duchess of Cambridge’s blows. “I have had it with being called a whore today.”

  The future Queen and her demonic sister went at each other, a flurry of punches and kicks; their stunning dresses soon being reduced to shreds.

  ****