SpikeFeather leapt to his feet, rocking the punt wildly, but he was pushed down again by one of the ice sisters.

"Leave this to us," she said, and the next instant both women had leapt for the bank —

transforming into icebears as they did so.

The hounds took one look, then bounded out of sight into the streets and alleyways of the abandoned stone city behind them, the icebears in close pursuit.

The icebears were fast, magically so, but the hounds always kept one breath, one leap, one thought, ahead of them. They ran through great abandoned boulevards with ancient banners, thick with dust, hanging from street lighting and buildings, and they dashed through alleys so narrow the icebears howled as their shoulders and flanks rasped against the confining stone walls.

And always the hounds, slavering and howling as if they were but one breath away from collapse, leaped one pace ahead of the sisters.

Finally, the hounds dashed into a blind square bounded by tall, blank-windowed tenement buildings, scrambling frantically about the confining walls, howling and screeching with fear.

The icebears slowed to a walk, their shoulders hunched with power, their faces curled in snarls so tight their eyes had almost disappeared, placing their paws slowly and deliberately one in front of the other in murderous anticipation.

Both hounds backed against the far wall, their tails between their hind legs, and whimpered.

One of the sisters paced closer, her growls reverberating about the confined space, and she slashed out at the hounds with a massive paw.

Her claws should have torn flesh from bone. Instead, nothing impeded her swing as it glided through shadow and fakery.

She fell silent, her eyes narrowed even further.

She lunged with both teeth and claws, and as she hit both hounds, they faded completely away.

As she collapsed on the ground, her sister pivoted about on her haunches, peering about the square.

But there was nothing. Nothing save the mocking laughter of the demonic enchantment as it literally vanished into thin air.

After a while, Azhure cautiously raised her head. "Are we safe?"

SpikeFeather nodded. "We are safe for the time being. I think we should —"

"Safe?" said a soft, distorted voice. "Safe? Safe from who, pray tell?"

And again the punt rocked wildly, even though neither SpikeFeather nor Azhure had moved.

A pair of hands appeared on either side of the punt, and gripped its sides.

Close behind came two heads — half eel, half humanoid — rising, dripping, from the water.

"Mot," said one.

"Barzula," said the other, by way of polite introduction, and then the hands were slithering into the punt.

Azhure had no time for a cry. Again she rolled herself into as tight a ball about Katie as she could, trying to protect the girl with her own flesh and blood. Above her she heard and felt the sounds of SpikeFeather battling with one of the Demons.

Cold hands ran over Azhure's spine, their thin fingers tracing every bone, every crack, and now she could not help the cry. "SpikeFeather!"

But SpikeFeather was no use. Mot had him pinned in the bow of the punt, the Demon's hands wrapped about the birdman's throat.

The thin, cold fingers suddenly dug deep into Azhure's back.

"SpikeFeather!" she screamed again, but it was no use, he couldn't help her, and the agony was so great that Azhure had to try to roll out of the way.

And the instant she did so, the fingers were gone, and she could breathe once again.

Azhure struggled up, leaning on her hands, and then grabbed for Katie, meaning to pull the girl under her body once more.

But Katie was gone, hauled over the side of the punt and into the water. One of the Demons had dragged her to the bank, and lifted her out of the water as Azhure watched.

Azhure scrambled to her feet, about to jump into the water to swim to the bank, when the punt rocked again, and she felt a taloned hand digging deep into the calf of her left leg.

She moaned, the pain too vicious for her to cry out loud, and collapsed in the bottom of the punt.

The other Demon, now wearing the form of a huge, horned toad with taloned, almost human hands, twisted its grip, and Azhure screamed.

SpikeFeather lay motionless at the other end of the punt, and even in her own agony Azhure caught a fleeting glimpse of blood.

"You've hung about too long," the toad whispered. "Time to make your intimate and eternal acquaintance with the AfterLife, bitch."

"I don't think so," a new voice put in from the opposite side of the waterway to which the other Demon held Katie. "Her time is not yet ripe. Soon, but not yet."

The Demon who held Azhure scrambled about to face the newcomer, his grip loosening on Azhure's leg.

Azhure blinked, her eyes blurred with tears of pain, and half raised her head to look herself.

A tall, black-haired woman with a cadaverous face stood there, her hands folded calmly before her.

Azhure blinked again, knowing she'd seen this woman before, but not quite able to place her.

The woman — was she the most beautiful woman in creation, or the ugliest? — turned her eyes very slightly towards Azhure.

The Sepulchre of the Moon, woman. Where you came to your true understanding.

Azhure gasped. Of course! After she'd given birth to RiverStar and DragonStar, WolfStar had hauled her out of her pain-filled chamber and hurled her down the steps that hugged the cliff face of Temple Mount. There, in the Sepulchre of the Moon, she'd met the other seven Star Gods ... and the woman.

The keeper of the gate into the After Life.

The GateKeeper.

The toad roared, and, in a massive leap, lunged from the punt towards the GateKeeper.

Without apparent hurry, the GateKeeper raised her hand and tossed something towards the toad.

It was a small metal ball, and before it could strike the toad, the Demon had screeched and twisted mid-air to fall several paces away from the GateKeeper.

As he fell, the toad rolled away and transformed back into the humanoid form of Mot.