 
### THE ROYAL WEDDING FROM HELL

Richard Barnes

Published by Richard Barnes at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Richard Barnes

http://richardbarneswriter.blogspot.co.nz

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. if you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase i, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Authors note

The Royal Wedding from Hell

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

About the Author

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# AUTHOR'S NOTE

"The Royal Wedding from Hell" is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used entirely fictitiously.

Let me stress (with some examples):

John Key, the Prime Minister of New Zealand has not become a demonic beast, hungry only for fresh flesh,

The Queen does not have a vault full of arcane magical artefacts beneath Buckingham Palace

and

The Duchess of Cambridge (nee Kate Middleton) does not speak like some slapper from Leeds.

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# THE ROYAL WEDDING FROM HELL

It is 2011. The world is in the grip of the worst global economic meltdown since the 1930s. Millions have lost their jobs and struggle to make ends meet.

Goddamnit, the world needs a party.

And as luck would have it, there's a big one coming.

On Friday, April 29th, Prince William, eldest son of Prince Charles and Princess Diana and second in line to the British throne, will get married to his long-standing girlfriend, Kate Middleton.

It will be the greatest show of British pageantry since Charles and Di wed in 1981.

Two million people will line the streets of London to celebrate.

3900 guests including heads of state, celebrities and charity workers, will pack Westminster Abbey for the service.

An estimated two billion people will watch the wedding worldwide.

A security operation, costing 10 million pounds, will be in place because nothing, repeat nothing, is going to go wrong.

And Prince Harry, the best man, has lost the rings.

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# CHAPTER ONE

London, 28th April 2011, 11:30pm

Two figures in black jumped from the roof of the Falcon Point on the South Bank of the Thames. One was tall and solid; the other was lithe and svelte. They both landed, rolled and ran, avoiding the streetlights. In moments they were crouched in the shadows at the foot of the west wall of the Tate Modern Building.

The dark, square shape of the brick-built, art-deco structure loomed above. The sturdy one gazed up at the building's roof, only his eyes visible through the slit in his black balaclava. He pulled a pair of mini grappling-hook guns from his backpack and handed one to his firm-bodied companion.

"Explain to me, one more time," said Pippa Middleton, "why are we breaking in to the Tate Modern on the eve of my sister's and your brother's wedding?" Her voice was muffled through her black balaclava, but Harry could certainly hear every word and the tone it was said in.

"The wedding rings are in there," he replied.

"Well that explains everything," said Pippa, "some people would think that we would be with the happy couple, helping to ease their nerves before they say their vows in front of two billion people. But no, we're doing some kind of commando raid on a major tourist attraction because the best man has lost the rings."

Harry looked his brother's future sister-in-law in the eye and was pleased to see that her fury was all fake. Her eyes told him that she was having the time of her life. "If we pull this off," he said, "I guess I'll have to call you commando."

"People will so take that the wrong way."

The chimes of Big Ben echoed down the river, telling them it was half past eleven. "Damn," muttered Harry, "we need to get moving; we absolutely have to have the rings by midnight."

"Fire the hooks and let's go then," said Pippa.

Harry aimed and fired the first grappling hook. Time was going to be tight. He knew he shouldn't have left it until Wills was in bed with his cocoa before setting out.

Clarence House, London 28th April 2011, 11:30pm

Wills took another sip of his cocoa and tried to read a little more of "Bravo Two Zero." The words just made no sense; there was too much going through his mind. Maybe he should have taken up his father's offer of a herbal infusion that would settle nerves and guarantee a good night's sleep.

Maybe he should go and speak to Harry. It seemed like a childish notion though, tip-toeing through the house to his brother's room while wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown. But at least half of his worries were about Harry's role in the wedding.

He knew he shouldn't doubt his younger brother; the days of Harry's wild past were largely gone. There was absolutely no conceivable reason why Harry should lose the rings, or have forgotten to write a speech.

It wasn't about doubting Harry. Perhaps speaking to his brother would simply help settle his nerves. After all, Harry was the young man whose service in Afghanistan had been so admired and whose work with veterans was inspirational.

On the other hand, Harry's black satin sheets and faux leopard skin throw made Wills distinctly uneasy.

Sod it, thought the second-in-line to the throne of Great Britain, everything is under control. Catherine will look stunning in the dress, Grandfather will not say anything out of turn and Harry has got the rings.

He gulped back the cocoa, chucked the Andy McNabb across the room and got up to go find some fresh air.

Tate Modern Roof, 28th April, 11:35pm

"I did think it was quite ghastly," said Pippa, looking through the skylight that ran the length of the building and down onto the sculpture that dominated the vast chamber beneath.

"You've seen it before?" asked Harry, also looking at the object crafted from twisted steel and lurid strips of crimson rubber.

"Half of London has seen it, wandered through it and clambered over it, Harry," replied Pippa, "It's had queues across the Millennium bridge to St Pauls. People have been so determined to see that thing that they weren't even complaining about the wobbling. It is by far and away the most popular thing that the gallery has ever displayed in the turbine hall. Have you seriously not heard about Renfield's Metamorphosis?"

"Should I have?"

"Renfield was brilliant in his twenties, but locked away for his own safety since 1968. He comes out of a catatonic state to design a spectacular new art work, in between eating flies, and wows the world before committing suicide," said Pippa, "it's been quite a story."

"Can't say I keep up on the art world much," said Harry, "what I do know is that somewhere in that monstrosity are the rings."

"OK, I'll ask the obvious," said Pippa while Harry pulled various tools from his belt and started to remove a pane of the skylight glass. "How did the rings get there? And shouldn't the police be dealing with this?"

"The answer to the first question should answer your second question," replied Harry.

"Go on," said Pippa.

Harry paused and glanced up at her. He took a deep breath. "The rings were stolen in a dream. Before I went to sleep last night, I checked that the rings were in my bedside table. I fell asleep and had a dream.

"In my dream, I was in a dark room made of curtains. A pair of twisted dwarfs appeared; they ran up, rifled through my pockets and grabbed a ring each, before scurrying away, backwards. I tried to shout out but I could only talk in tongues. I ran after them and saw them disappear into this hideous structure.

"When I woke, the rings were gone."

Pippa sat back on her haunches and stared at Harry. Since Kate had started hanging out with Wills, and Pippa had started to get to know the Wales brothers, she had formed a strong bond with Harry. Both knew that their siblings would always be the ones in the spotlight and the ones with all the responsibility, but they also knew that some of that light would reflect on them. It was up to Pippa and Harry to be the best they could be to help Kate and Wills be the people they had to be.

She knew about Harry's youthful indiscretions; the whole world knew about them, but she liked to think that she had come to know the real man.

And here he was, spinning her some nonsense about dwarfs stealing the Royal wedding rings in a dream.

Harry saw the look in Pippa's eyes. "I nearly told you some story about anarchists nicking the rings," he said "but thought no, Pippa deserves the truth, however mad it sounds. I wouldn't even tell Chelsy about this."

"Are you telling me everything?" asked Pippa, not sure if she wanted an answer.

Harry rubbed his eyes then pulled the glass panel back and laid it carefully onto the flat roof. He made the two hooks fast and clicked the rope onto his belt harness. He passed the other rope to Pippa.

She hesitated.

"I'm not mad," said Harry.

Pippa had a quick look around. She was on the roof of the Tate Modern on the night before the biggest day of her life. Just who was mad right now was kind of a moot point.

"How can I explain?" said Harry, "my family have a strange past."

Pippa smiled. "I knew that. Everyone does."

"You don't know it at all. You see, some things are real. Really real. Some things are nearly real. Some things are myth."

"Are you saying the history of the Royal family is a myth?"

"Sort of. Take King Arthur and the roundtable," said Harry.

"Myth," said Pippa.

"Except that my Grandmother and therefore me, we're descendants of Arthur."

Pippa started to decide who was actually mad now.

Even in the darkness, Harry could sense the change in Pippa's expression. "It was real, but not real real. It was where myth met reality. Except that reality, our reality, overtook the myth so that Arthur and the roundtable faded away. The myth was nearly real but never real real. The myth now sits beneath the real, almost gone forever."

"Only almost?" said Pippa.

"Well, Wills will be wearing Excalibur to the wedding tomorrow. It's a family tradition. So the myth hasn't quite gone yet."

"Excalibur? The Excalibur, as in sword in the stone Excalibur?"

"That's the one. Of course, it's more or less just a piece of decorative metal these days," said Harry.

"And the dwarfs from a dream that stole the wedding rings?" asked Pippa, trying to get back to reality, such that it was.

"Myth," said Harry, "but nearly real. Not quite real real. But real enough. This could get dangerous."

"Mother of fuck," she muttered. She snapped the rope to her belt and smiled. "Let's go and kick some dwarf arse."

Goring Hotel 28th April 11:35pm

Catherine Middleton, soon to be the Duchess of Cambridge sipped her cocoa. It occurred to her that Wills would be doing the same thing right at that moment. A small comfort before a day where she would be watched by billions. She reached, for the thousandth time, to check her curlers. At least her hair would look as grand as it could.

There was a gentle knock at the door to her room. "Come in," she called.

"Eh, lass," said her father, Michael, as he entered, "you should be getting t' beauty sleep. Not that you need beauty sleep. You got your Mam to thank for that."

"By 'eck, our Dad," she replied, pleased to let her tone sink back to its native Leeds accent. "Like I could sleep on night like this? How is Mam?"

"Oh, she were out like t' light," he said, "all them years as a trolley-dolly is what does it."

"Don't let her hear you call her that, our Dad. She'll swing for you, she will."

Michael laughed. "Where's that sister of yours got to? There were no answer when I knocked on her door and I reckon she'd be as frit as you are."

"Bloody 'ell, our Dad," muttered Kate. She put her cocoa down and swung her legs out of bed.

"I'm sure its nowt to worry about," said Michael.

"Like 'ell it is," said Kate, throwing on her fluffy, towelling robe, "That girl will be death of me, I tell you. It were like this at boarding school. I were always having to cover for her being out after lights out on some daft mucking about. She got in with wrong crowd, Pippa did. Turned her back on good Yorkshire folk, started hanging round with the Chelsea set."

Kate barged out of her room and across the suite hallway to hammer on the door of Pippa's room opposite. She threw a filthy look at the two special branch men who had glanced back at her from the main lounge of the suite.

"Pippa Middleton, open this bloody door, or I'll kick it in, so I will," she hollered.

There was no answer, so she slammed her foot against the lock and the door swung inwards. Kate stormed into the room. No sign of Pippa. Her gorgeous, white bridesmaid's dress was hung on the wardrobe. Kate stomped over to the wardrobe and looked inside, checking through Pippa's clothes.

"Any ideas, love?" said Michael, hovering nervously at the door.

"All her nice frocks are here," muttered Kate, "and her best shoes." Kate looked about, spotted the suitcase and swung it onto the bed. She flipped it open, reached inside to release a series of hidden catches and pulled back a panel to find a secret pocket.

"What is it, pet? What have you found?" asked her father.

"It's what I've not found, our Dad," she spat. "I asked her why she brought her covert ops gear with her. She said in case of emergencies like. I thought nowt of it. I just laughed."

Without another word Kate stormed back to her room and grabbed her phone. The ringing tone went once before Wills' voice came on.

"I thought this was bad luck, sweet chunks," he said.

"Bad luck to see each other, big boy," replied Kate, and Michael was pleased to see a smile replace her scowl. "Is your brother around, by any chance?"

"Harry? I'll check his room. Won't be a mo."

There was a pause. A minute or so later, Kate heard Wills pick the phone up again. "The swine's gone out."

"Pippa's missing too. Taken her covert ops gear."

There was a groan at the other end of the phone. "Ever since they had that weekend doing anti-terrorist training, they've been thick as thieves."

"Do you think there's 'owt to worry over?" asked Kate.

Wills paused. "I'm sure there isn't. Probably just letting off a little steam together before the big day. Harry is not the idiot he used to be. And Pippa's a sensible young lady."

Kate sighed in relief, though held back her opinion of Pippa. "Nothing we can do now. Thanks for calming me down."

"No worries, sweet chunks. I needed a bit of a talk with someone anyway, calm the nerves, what?"

"See you tomorrow, big boy," said Kate.

"Don't be late," said Wills as he rung off.

Michael saw that Kate seemed a little happier now. "With Harry is she? I reckon she's a bit sweet on him."

"Pippa has a boyfriend and Harry has a girlfriend. Hopefully all four are together right now having a pleasant meal or drink."

Kate strolled out of Pippa's room. She noticed the two special branch men finding something suddenly interesting in their newspapers.

"Listen up, you two," she called, "if one bloody word of this turns up on Twitter or Facebook or any such like, I will personally kick both your fucking teeth in. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," they both muttered back.

Tate Modern 28th April 11:40pm

"This thing is doing my head in," muttered Harry as he and Pippa made their way up one the structure's many winding and strangely angled passages.

The lights within the giant artwork were hidden so Harry was never sure where light was coming from. They faded in and out, alternating colours and shadows, making the tunnels and passages seem like they were expanding and contracting.

"It's supposed to be like being inside a living organism," said Pippa, "though when Kate and I came to its opening event, we both just got a headache."

"I thought you said the bloody thing was popular?" said Harry.

"It is," said Pippa, "The people we were with generally thought it was wonderful. The public have been coming in droves."

They squeezed through a narrow section. Harry shivered as he rubbed against the membrane wall. It had a sickly, moist texture; it was indeed like being inside some kind of organism.

They emerged into a larger, almost spherical chamber. The floor gave slightly beneath their feet and felt sticky. The chamber was warmer and more humid; both Pippa and Harry felt prickly sweat beneath their clothes. At the apex of the chamber was a vast black hole. Some dark substance dripped from it and onto a pulsating mass that was suspended in the middle of the chamber. Beneath the mass was another black hole. More gloop slid down into it.

Pippa pointed to other shadowy openings in the walls, some large and coloured, some tight and dark. "All the passages eventually lead here," she said.

Harry nodded. Even in this weird structure, he was able to keep his strong sense of direction. Tours of duty in the wilds of Afghanistan had taught the Prince to map his movements without thinking.

He started towards the centre of the chamber and the pulsating crimson mass. There were glistening rope ladders leading into it and wet strips of fabric sliding out.

"Christ, Harry," said Pippa, "we could be here for hours. There's dozens of passages twisting between dozens of odd rooms and tunnels. The rings could be anywhere."

Harry knelt in front of one of the rope ladders. "Lucky that Granny taught me a few tricks," he said. Pippa crouched beside him.

She watched as Harry pulled a small bag, barely big enough to keep a pair of cufflinks in, from one of his belt pouches. He loosened the bag's gold drawstring. "Hold out your hand, palm up," he said to Pippa.

She did as she was told. There was a distant whispering noise that made her look round suddenly and jerk her hand back. Harry grabbed her wrist and made her snap round to face him.

He leaned closer to her. "We're being followed, that was the noise."

"The dwarves?"

"Probably," said Harry, "but ignore them for now, focus here for the moment. It's the only way we'll find the rings."

He let go of her wrist while keeping his eyes locked with hers. He could see fear, probably the same fear he was feeling, but he also saw her resolve to stick with him.

Harry put his hand, palm up, next to hers. With his other hand he started to tip the bag up above their palms.

"We're the closest people to Wills and Kate," he whispered, "hopefully, there's enough of them on the rings and on us for the dust to make the connection."

Whispering came sliding up out of one of the passages and into the chamber. Pippa closed her eyes, took a breath and opened them to see Harry looking at her. The whispering continued, staying at a level that meant she knew there were words being spoken but could not make any of them out.

"Ignore the sounds, watch the dust," said Harry.

Pippa pushed the sinister noise from her mind and looked down to their hands. A coil of golden dust was slipping out of the bag. It didn't fall, like sand through an hour glass, it gently floated in a deliberate spiral. Just when its tip nearly made contact with her skin, it jerked back an inch or so. More dust slipped out, building into a slender dart, maybe two inches long.

The golden dart trembled then slid forward, away from their hands and towards the nearest rope ladder.

The whisper was joined by a hiss, louder and more aggressive. Harry pulled back onto his haunches.

Pippa watched the dart for a moment as it quivered towards the ladder, then looked back to Harry. "When you said Granny taught you this..."

"That's Her Majesty to you," Harry grinned, though his eyes were flicking around the chamber now. "You follow the dart, it should lead you to the rings. I'll keep our little friends occupied."

Pippa looked back to the dart. It was floating up the ladder now. She grabbed the side ropes and pulled herself up a couple of rungs. "Did you bring a gun?" she asked over her shoulder.

Harry, distracted for a moment by the tight fabric of Pippa's black pants, shook his head. "I don't think a gun would be much use here," he said, "Luckily, there are more exotic things in the Palace basement."

"Your family are weird," said Pippa as she climbed on up, following the magic dart.

"You're telling me," muttered Harry who kept scanning the chamber, trying to make out whether the shifting shadows were just the lights or something moving. Behind him, he heard a slight sucking noise. He glanced back up to see Pippa's feet vanish through a hole. The hole seemed too small for Pippa's body now.

The atmosphere in the chamber shifted and Harry felt a chill across his skin. Prickly sweat was replaced by shivering cold. The floor, which had been tacky underfoot, now froze to hard ice.

He reached for a sheath strapped to his leg. The thing hit him before he could pull the knife free. He hit the hard ground with his right shoulder and slid on his back across the icy floor.

Buckingham Palace, 28th April, 11:45pm

The Queen sat up in bed. Beside her, Phillip coughed, a dry, dusty rattle, then pushed himself up to his elbows.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," he rasped, although his tone lacked confidence. He remembered the dream he was having before Elizabeth had disturbed him. It was the Pacific in the War. He could feel sweat cooling on his brow. It reminded him of the sweat that had poured off of him while he watched oil on the sea burn and men scream. The buzzing of plane engines and the whistle of bombs echoed in his mind. "Maybe it won't," he conceded.

"We've been fooled," said Elizabeth. "I've sent Harry off to face something far more powerful than I realised."

Phillip sat up in the darkness and put his arm around her shoulders. "He's a tough, resourceful lad."

"Yes," she replied, "but that won't be enough." She swung her legs out of bed and grabbed her robe from a chair. She stomped towards the bedroom door. The heavy sound of her footsteps indicated a steely resolve that few but Phillip experienced. Those that did never forgot it. With a speed that belied his ninety years, Phillip jumped out of bed and scurried after her.

As the Royal couple walked through the corridors of the palace they swept past a harassed butler. He jumped to attention. "Ma'am, can I..?" She cut him off with a dismissive wave. The Queen and Phillip swept out of sight round a corner and the butler sighed in relief.

The alcove was dim and unobtrusive. Elizabeth rapped a bust of Victoria on the nose and the secret door swung open. She and Phillip trotted down the spiral staircase and the door slid shut behind them.

Elizabeth entered the secret vault and torches burst into flame, standing to attention as their mistress entered, much like the butler had. Elizabeth smiled. In the world of public servants and fawning courtiers, things did not jump into place as quickly as she would like, but here, where she truly reigned, her majesty was recognised.

Around the walls of the chamber were tables and cabinets crammed with artefacts. Dust did not settle on them, gold and silver shone brightly in the light of the torches' flames; all of the artefacts looked vibrant and alive.

In the centre of the room was a pedestal. On the pedestal was an object covered by a heavy, black velvet cloth. The Queen paused in front of it.

Phillip, remaining several paces behind her, mused on how the small, elderly figure with curlers in her grey hair and wrapped in a faded and slightly worn, quilted robe held such power. He watched the little, old woman sweep the cloth from the object.

It was a head. Dark, dry skin was pinched around a shrivelled skull. Its nose had rotted away leaving a black hole in the middle of its face. The eye sockets contained absurd, slightly too large, glass eyes. Its teeth were long gone. The first time Phillip had seen it, he'd thought it was grotesque but ridiculous.

The Queen poked it in the middle of the forehead.

When the head coughed and snarled, Phillip gave a small jump. Every time that wretched thing came to life, he jumped. He was never going to get used to it.

"What now?" it hissed.

"Less of your insolence," replied Elizabeth, "remember your place."

"My place? I'm a long dead skull, re-animated by some eldritch power and dragged back from what should be my eternal rest. For crying out loud, Ma'am, tell me what I should remember about my place, eh?"

"I am your Mistress," said Elizabeth, "and command you as my ancestors did before me. Remember who saved you from the frozen abyss you were trapped in. Remember your debt."

"I'm never allowed to forget it, am I?" it rasped. Before she could speak again, it continued. "Don't get your Royal knickers in a twist. What's the problem? I suppose it's got to do with the wedding and all?"

Phillip watched her shoulders tense up, as she did whenever she spoke to the head. His wife trembled for a moment but he watched her body become still as she took a breath and calmed herself.

"The rings were stolen. It seemed like some small magics and I gave Harry weapons that should have been enough to deal with it."

The head coughed. "He's a good lad, that one. They all are to be honest, though Charlie never had much time for me."

"I do not wish to hear your opinions about my children and grandchildren again," she said, "I can feel that something far more is at play here. You must reach out and find out what."

"Of course, love," he replied with a whisper, "but you know the deal. I'm stuck in a vault of power. I need a boost to reach out beyond here, don't I?"

"Phillip," she commanded quietly.

The Duke stepped over to one of the tables and picked up a small, triangular knife. He walked back over to Elizabeth. She held out her hand over the head. Phillip brought the knife up.

"Hey there, Phil," it hissed, "all good with you, is it?"

"Shut your face, you little bastard," said Phillip.

It gave a rattle that may have been a laugh. Phillip ignored it. His eyes met his wife's. She gave a tense nod and he drew the blade across her palm. A line red blood welled up in her hand and a drop fell onto the shrivelled skull.

"That's not the stuff, is it now," hissed the head.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and concentrated. She clenched her fist, causing the blood to squeeze through her fingers, turning her small hand a rich crimson.

Phillip saw that it caused her pain which made his heart ache. He longed to plunge the knife into the skull but also knew that if Elizabeth deemed this macabre ceremony necessary, then it was of the utmost importance.

Blood continued to seep out through her fingers. Her fist trembled then shook, then suddenly flew open.

Blood splattered out and across the head; it was no longer red but a deep and lustrous blue. The colour of her true heritage, the colour of Royalty.

"That's the stuff," hissed the head in a trembling, almost ecstatic voice.

Elizabeth was panting now and Phillip put a hand to her arm to keep her steady. He could see sweat across her brow. "Well then, what can you see?"

The head sighed a few more times, drinking in the power. Then it stopped. "Oh Lord," it said, in a tone that Phillip had never heard from the thing.

"What is it?" said Elizabeth.

"She should be dead. Damn it, she is dead. I did for her, centuries ago."

"As you prove," said Elizabeth, "not everything stays dead."

Phillip saw the head's face twist in anger. "They stay dead if I bloody killed them."

Elizabeth was unperturbed. "Clearly not in this case."

"Power. Dreadful power," said the head, "That's the only thing that could bring her back. And if you're up against that kind of power, we're all in the shit."

"But you are Merlin," said Elizabeth, "the son of a devil and the most powerful mage in myth, reality and all places in between."

"And she is returning. And you have to stop her," said Merlin.

Tate Modern, 28th April, 11:45pm

Harry caught a flashing glimpse of something white and stumpy flipping over and over towards him. He scrambled to a crouch, wincing with every movement of his arm.

No time to go for the knife again; he rolled over his left shoulder and saw a glimpse of a twisted, pale face as the stumpy creature flipped over him. Harry lashed out a leg and felt it hit something as solid as a sandbag. He jerked to a sitting position and was able to take a longer look at his attacker.

The thing was naked, with glistening white skin. Its body was a squat, square of solid flesh. Its limbs were longer, out of proportion to the squat torso, and lined with wiry muscle.

Its face had a mouth with too many teeth that were far too big. A long, black tongue lashed out between its fangs. Its eyes were yellow and without irises or pupils.

Clawed feet scraped at the icy surface as the thing moved from side to side, its eyes fixed on Harry. The horrible, deformed mouth twisted into something like a grin. One of its taloned hands reached out to Harry, the gnarled fingers flexing in a beckoning motion. The other claw gouged score marks into the ground.

Harry didn't take his eyes off the creature. Moving slowly, keeping his feet firm on the ice through skills learned on his arctic expedition, he reached for the knife again. As Harry curled the fingers of his left hand around its hilt, the creature's face twisted back from a deformed smile and into an aggressive snarl. Harry's right shoulder was still aching. His right arm was not going be much use.

He kept in a crouch, staying low to maintain his centre of balance, and slid the knife out of its sheath. The creature hissed as the full length of the blade was revealed. The blade pulsed with a golden light.

The creature's eyes flicked from the blade and back to Harry's face. It scrunched its body back, as if about to pounce. Harry brought the knife round, holding it in front of him. The creature shrunk back with another hiss.

A voice rippled through the cold air. A woman's voice, well spoken and very, very cold.

"A blade of Morpheus?" said the voice, "smart thinking, young Prince. I assume it was something you found in the Palace vaults. Does your Grandmother know you have it?"

Harry kept his eyes on the stunted creature and didn't bother answering. He wasn't going to tell the voice that it was his Grandmother who gave the blade to him.

"If you're lucky, young Prince," continued the voice, "you might be fast enough to skewer Zepho here." The creature, Zepho, snarled at the comment. "But then, Zepho is very fast. Fast enough and with enough of my power in him to be able to steal from you via your dreams. Do you really think you can take him on?" An icy laugh followed.

The temperature in the chamber dropped even lower. Harry saw his white breath rising in front of his eyes. His fingers and toes started to go numb.

Fear and doubt slipped into his mind. What the hell was this thing? How could he hope to kill it? It had already knocked him around the chamber with its speed and those vicious claws. The knife was surely just an old trinket?

Thinking of the knife made him tighten his trembling fingers around its hilt. The movement calmed his mind. Concentrating on the creature again, Harry found his focus.

Hell, he'd been in tighter places than this. Under fire on all sides with a company of men to command, Harry's Royal status had meant nothing. His training, his ability to shut out the noise and focus on the situation had meant everything. Then there had been that time Piers Morgan had tried to speak to Harry in a club. He had faced odious creatures before.

Harry watched the creature flexing its claws and tensing its legs. He dropped to one knee.

Zepho lunged at Harry, claws outstretched and going for his throat.

Harry rolled to his left. The claws missed his face by centimetres and he thrust upwards with the knife.

There was a tearing noise accompanied by a high-pitched screech. Harry hit the hard ground on his back and desperately kept his grip on the knife.

He looked at Zepho, who was scrambling across the crimson ice and shrieking. Wispy flames and smoke flickered out from a long slit down the length of its torso. The slit was widening, the flames were spreading across its body.

"Poor show, Zepho," said the cold voice, "Harry here proved to be a smarter fighter than we might have thought.

Harry got to his feet and stepped over to the writhing creature. It was shrivelling away now, the monstrous face no longer scowling but twisted in pain. With a hard backward swipe, Harry slashed through Zepho's neck. Its head rolled away, shrinking and crumbling into a tiny pile of black ash.

The rest of Zepho's body crumpled like a burst balloon then dissolved, leaving nothing but a small pool of bubbling ooze on the ice and a rotten smell.

Harry flexed his right shoulder; it didn't feel so sore now. He looked around for any sign of the voice's owner.

"Don't feel so pleased with yourself, young Prince," said the voice, filling the cold air. "There were two of them, remember? So where's Zepho's brother, eh? Where is young Gorko?

"And how do you think young Pippa might be getting on? Or maybe Gorko is with her? Does she have a blade of Morpheus?"

Harry swore and jumped at the rope ladder that Pippa had climbed. Putting the knife between his teeth he quickly ascended the rungs. The opening at the top was closed up, like a tight pair of puckered lips. He grabbed the knife and drew his arm back to plunge it into the fleshy wall.

Just as he was about to strike, the rope ladder gave way. Harry grasped for a handhold but his fingers just found the gooey, slimy side of the crimson mass. He plummeted into the black hole beneath.

****

# 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.

****

# CHAPTER THREE

The South Bank 11:45am

"Ow, Jesus Christ," shouted Pippa, as the Aston Martin bounced up the pavement and scraped along the stone railing, sending sparks flying. People dived out of the way as Harry punched the horn.

"Sorry to bounce you around Pip," shouted Harry above the roar of the engine and the screams of pedestrians, "but we have got to move fast and this is the only way." He wrenched the wheel sideways and the car skidded across a junction, causing a lorry and a bus to batter into each other.

"It's not you," cried Pippa, "Kate's punching my doppelganger in the face."

"How do you know it's Kate?" shouted Harry, screeching off the road again, slamming his foot to the floor and booting it towards the National Theatre.

"I've been on the receiving end of her left hooks before," she replied, "but don't worry, I gave as good as I got."

An image of his sister-in-law and the attractive brunette beside him having a catfight sprung to Harry's mind. It was difficult but he pushed it away. There was Chelsy to think about. He concentrated on trying to get to the Abbey and not running down pedestrians.

A phat handbrake turn spun the car onto the Queen's walk and he gunned it along the South Bank, firing the screeching siren all the way. Past the National Theatre, the Aston Martin shot beneath Waterloo Bridge. Harry caned it past the Royal Festival Hall before charging under Hungerford Bridge. Streams of Union flags whipped in their wake. The Millenium Wheel was the next tourist site that he and Pippa ignored, caring only for speed and avoiding the few stragglers that were already diving for cover. Westminster Bridge was up ahead and from there it was just a hard right turn to the Abbey.

"Uh, Harry," said Pippa, "that's a flight of stairs up to the bridge. Maybe you should hang a left to go by the road?"

"No time," said Harry, "besides, this bastard's got some wicked customisations."

Harry flicked a switch and Pippa felt a throbbing vibration beneath her. Under different circumstances, she would have been thrilled. Right there and then, she could only see a bunch of steep, hard stone steps ahead.

The jet engine that had just folded out of the back of the car exploded into action. Harry clung to the wheel with a white-knuckled grip as he and Pippa were thrust back in their seats.

Most pedestrians were already open-mouthed at the car hooning it past them. When a jet fired up and the car practically flew up the stairs, they knew they'd just gone crazy.

Luckily, Westminster Bridge was closed for the Wedding, so it was just a bunch of traffic cones that went flying when the Aston Martin thumped over the top. Harry screeched the car round as Police shouted. He skidded to a halt with the back hitting the stone palisade and sending chunks to the Thames below.

"Oh, shitballs," panted Pippa. Her vision stopped spinning and she found herself focusing on men in full body armour and carrying big, automatic weapons. "Do we have time to tell them that we're part of the wedding party?"

Westminster Abbey

"Ay carumba," shouted Maria Teresa, Grand Duchess of Luxembourg as the sweet-looking choir boy bounded towards her. A moment later she yowled in pain as the boy sunk his fangs into the Grand Duchess's arm. She tried to shake the child off but the creature's fangs seemed to be bolted in. Maria Teresa stumbled over Henri, her husband and Grand Duke of Luxembourg. The Grand Duchess writhed in agony, feeling boiling venom rushing through her blood.

With a triumphant roar, the boy ripped his mouth away from Maria Teresa's arm, bringing a chunk of flesh with it. The bloody wound smoked around the edges and foul-smelling puss bubbled out of it.

The choir boy jumped away, now launching himself at a horrified, undercover policeman. Maria Teresa fell to her knees and her head fell into Henri's lap. "Maria, Maria," he screamed. She looked up at him. Bile and blood spilled from her lips. Her eyes were the black orbs of the possessed.

"Ay carumba," shrieked Henri as his Grand Duchess pounced at him.

The rest of the choir carried on charging at the congregation. Some victims were lucky enough to die in bloody carnage; many more were transformed into flesh-hungry beasts. Those who'd got seats near the front of the Abbey were not feeling so pleased about it now.

Westminster Abbey 11:45am

"Good Lord," ejaculated Prince Charles as a cherub faced beast leapt at him. There was a flash of steel and the possessed choir boy's body split into two in a burst of black blood.

Princess Anne wiped the blade of her samurai sword on her dress. "I think we should get the family out of here," she said.

Charles nodded, noticing the look of distaste on Camilla's face as the horde of demonic choristers bounded out of the choir, some towards the horrified congregation in the nave, some towards the packed leaders and royalty of the Eastern end of the Abbey.

"One doesn't like to leave the other guests to it though," said Charles, starting to draw his sword.

"Bloody hell, boy," shouted Phillip, shoving his eldest son in the back, "your mother wants us out of here. If the Family fall then the nation falls. It's the blood, you know that."

Charles looked at his grey-faced mother, being half-carried by Phillip. "Mama doesn't look too well, Papa?"

"It's a bloody copy," the Duke of Edinburgh explained, "your mother's currently at the Tate Modern trying to cleanse it of some ancient evil." He pushed the others south to the Great Cloisters.

"It's like that dreadful situation down in Truro," said Camilla, "remember, dear, with the wicker men and that blood-eyed hound thing?"

A policeman, now transformed by the black blood of the choirboys into a slavering demon, lurched towards the Royal party. Beatrice wriggled out of Prince Andrew's grasp and stepped forward. "I've got this one," she cried.

She grasped the twin purple horns of her outrageous hat and concentrated on the policeman. He charged at her, claws reaching for her throat, black bile bubbling up through his teeth.

The runic shape of the hat glowed bright pink and a wave of energy pulsed out. The policeman's mouth opened wide in surprise before his whole body dissolved into black dust.

"Wow, Bea," said Eugenie, "that'll show those Facebook and Twitter haters."

Beatrice shrugged. "Only one charge, unfortunately."

Prince Andrew fended off a possessed charity worker. "Is there anyone in this family who's not some kind of occult warrior?" he said.

Prince Edward shrieked, stumbling forward with his children safely in his arms. "I have nothing to do with this nonsense," he cried.

"No, you wouldn't, would you," muttered Andrew.

"Shut it," shouted Phillip, "Just get in the bloody carriages."

Andrew, pushing his daughters ahead of him, went through the side door to the Cloister. In the square space a series of ornate carriages waited. With a sigh, he looked at the glowing, green spectral figures holding the reins of equally spectral horses. "Ah, ghost coaches, ghost coachmen, ghost horses. Naturally."

"Come on," shouted the Duke of Edinburgh, hustling the Royal Family into the carriages.

"What about Wills and Kate?" asked Charles.

"Needed here," said Phillip, "Your mother says that it's the power that has been invoked through their rings that has brought this about. Power must be channelled through them to defeat the evil."

Through the side door, Charles spotted sparks of bright white and strange flames of eldritch black as Wills duelled with the doppelganger Harry. "I do hope they'll be alright," he muttered.

"You, me and the whole bloody world hope that," replied Phillip.

An unholy shriek made Charles spin. Two choir boys had charged into the cloister and leapt at Phillip's back. Before the nonagenarian could turn, Charles had drawn his sword and decapitated one of the demonic boys.

The other rolled sideways and scuttled through Phillip's legs. The demon jumped at the doppelganger Queen's back. Phillip dived on the demon. Charles went to help but three more possessed choir boys came running in.

Phillip yanked the first one back and, with skills he hadn't employed since 1945, he wrenched the boy's neck round and broke it with a grinding crunch.

Charles swung his sword at the three new choirboys and they kept back but fanned out, making it harder for him to attack.

"Papa," he cried, "save Mama, I'll hold these poor devils off."

"Poor devils?" muttered Phillip as he pulled the doppelganger to her feet, "Little bastards more like." He half shoved, half carried the double of his wife through the door and into one of the carriages. Once she was settled, he turned to make sure his son was with him.

Charles was surrounded by the demonic choristers and more were pouring into the antechamber. Phillip took a step forward, drawing his sword as black blood sprayed through the air. Charles's sword rose and fell, but then Phillip saw his son cry out with pain. The Prince of Wales flipped his sword round and stabbed at the beats that had sunk its fangs into his leg. The demon child was gutted, but Charles tumbled to his knees. He looked up into the eyes of his father.

"For once in your life, listen to me, Papa," shouted Charles, "Save Mama. I'll hold these creatures off until you get away."

"Stout work, Charles," said Phillip, finding a smile as he saw Charles's pride at the comment. With tears in his eyes, the Duke of Edinburgh listened to Charles and got into the spectral carriage with the doppelganger Queen.

With the Royal family all aboard, the carriages faded to invisibility. The ghostly horses shrieked, the ghostly coachmen moaned and the whole grim procession swirled in a circle before taking to the air and flying back towards Buckingham Palace.

Charles slashed at the demons until their sheer weight meant he couldn't move his arms. His skin burned as their black venom dripped onto it. A dozen, bloodthirsty faces crowded in towards him. With his tongue, Charles flipped open his false tooth and sucked on the cyanide it contained. He hoped it was still potent after all these years.

Sound and vision faded away. God bless the secret service, thought Charles.

"Cover your ears," said Harry. Pippa did as she was told, as Harry hit another switch.

A sonic shockwave pulsed out from the car and the dozen or so armed cops were thrown backwards.

"Woah," said Pippa.

Harry clutched his head. Blood trickled from his nose. "So that's what happens with that," he gasped.

"Harry, get us to the church on time," said Pippa.

He shook his head to clear it and pumped his foot to the floor again. The car shot forward, hurtling towards police barriers and the tower of Big Ben.

They roared past the Houses of Parliament, screeching left into Parliament Square. Harry narrowly missed the statue of Churchill and halted outside the huge Abbey doors. As the engine shut off, Harry jumped out of his seat with Pippa close behind. As he landed on the pavement, he noticed the crowds. They weren't cheering; they were screaming and trying to run.

John Key, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, was no longer the Prime Minister of New Zealand. He was now a slavering beast hungry only for living flesh. He had taken down the Prime Minister of Australia in a frenzy of screaming and blood and now, with gore caked across his usually smiling face, he looked for fresh meat. His wild, crazed eyes found a woman trying to stumble away from the growing horror. She didn't have much meat on her, but to the monster that the Prime Minister of New Zealand had become, she had a warm, beating heart and that was enough.

Victoria Beckham shrieked as the blood-soaked creature leapt at her. She sort of recognised him as one of the many, many people her husband had been photographed with but right now, her only concern was to escape. She turned to run but stumbled over the body of Elton John. John Key's claw slashed out, only to be kicked away by the powerful leg of David Beckham.

It was clear that the Prime Minister of New Zealand no longer recognised the world's most popular footballer. Becks was saddened by the transformation of the man he remembered as being very nice, but it didn't stop him following up with a devastating kick. On the football pitch, such a kick would have scored from the halfway line; in this grim battle for life and death, it took John Key's head off. The body slumped to the ground, dissolving into bubbling, wretched flesh.

"These things are bloody scary, Vic," he said, "but if you can get the boot in, they can be taken out." He swung round as another hissing monster charged at him. Becks realised it was David Furnish. Sad again, but it didn't stop the LA Galaxy Captain from kicking the beast down.

Becks grabbed Posh and they started to run for the Abbey doors. He pushed Victoria into the fleeing throng, then turned to go back.

"David!" she cried.

"I can help hold them back," shouted Becks, "you help get as many people out as you can. I'll be after you soon."

She didn't want to leave her husband, but his courage inspired her. Victoria turned and grabbed the arms of a couple of elderly charity workers to help them get along.

Becks got stuck in to hold the line. He kicked back a pair of possessed cops, he lashed out at Prince Albert of Monaco. A figure backflipped into position beside him.

"Never thought it would turn out like this, eh?" muttered Rowan Atkinson as a flurry of his karate moves took down a minor figure of European royalty.

A choirboy, with his robes now stained crimson, leapt at Becks. The footballer kicked him away, then spun round and knocked Sir Clive Woodward flying. The rugby coach roared, his teeth stretching into ragged fangs. Becks tensed to strike again at Sir Clive, but the possessed beast spotted an easier target.

Chelsy Davy's earlier fury, at what she thought was Harry's indifference, had been soothed by the revelation that it wasn't Harry at all but some beast of the abyss. It still didn't stop her being scared out of her wits. She thought she'd made it to the Abbey doors, but the ex-England Rugby coach, now transformed into a flesh-hungry monster, was in the way.

The creature reared up, only to be felled by the drop-kick of David Beckham. Chelsy smiled; even though it annoyed Harry, she'd always preferred football.

Sir Clive lashed out at Becks. Becks swung his leg out at Sir Clive's head, but a sudden pain shot up from his foot, making the ex-Man Utd star stumble. It was the cursed metatarsal again. The poisonous talons of Sir Clive ripped through Beckham's Pierre Cardin shirt and gouged a stinging strip of skin from his toned abs.

Becks hit the ground feeling a burning sensation surging through his veins. He gritted his teeth in pain and fought back the terrifying thoughts that were welling up through his mind.

"Oh fuck," said Chelsy as Sir Clive's leering, blood stained face turned back to her. Screw dignity, she thought. She kicked off her heels and ripped off her tight skirt. Now, wearing just her stockings and suspenders, Chelsy could run, and run fast, away from Sir Clive.

Sir Clive bounded after her, howling like some hell-born hunting dog. Becks struggled to his feet, feeling his shaking hands twisting into claws and his teeth stretching into fangs. He looked at the fleeing Chelsy and the pursuing Sir Clive. He blinked, seeing Chelsy as warm, tender flesh chased by one of his kind, then blinked again to see her as a terrified young woman chased by a monster. With churning guts, Beckham raced after them, his mind flashing between chasing the girl and chasing the beast.

Chelsy was less scared than Beckham realised. Raised in Southern Africa, she had spent plenty of time in the bush tackling the wildest beasts that Africa had to offer. If you couldn't get away, get high. She jumped up and skipped from the back of one pew to the next, heading to one of the columns supporting the vaulted roof of the Abbey.

She jumped, grabbing at the carvings on the column. With her fingertips straining, she started to climb up the stone work, trying to reach a higher, safer level. Sir Clive bounded over the pews, slamming into the foot of the column. He looked up with a roar. Chelsy didn't look down.

Becks felt his humanity dying. He clung on, holding the image of Victoria in his mind to keep the horrors of the abyss at bay. With one more desperate, two-footed leap, he slammed into the back of Sir Clive, shattering the rugby coach's spine.

Woodward roared with fury. Beckham gave one last kick. He ignored the pain of his metatarsal and crushed Sir Clive's head against the stone of the column. His skull exploded in a spray of boiling gore.

Chelsy, now able to hang on to a carved rim, looked down at the ruined body of Sir Clive, and Beckham slumped beside it. "Becks," she cried, "you saved me."

Becks looked up, but no longer with the bright blue eyes that adorned the bedroom walls of teenagers across the world. Now they were just the black pits of the abyss. The footballer opened his fanged maw and howled.

President Obama and his wife watched the horror unfolding on TV in Washington, happy, at last, at not being invited.

Kate blocked another pair of punches from Pippa and aimed a kick at the demon's midriff. Pippa blocked the kick and, with growing claws, slashed at Kate.

The front of the bride's dress was torn away, revealing the scarlet basque that had been meant, only for Wills to see. Pippa's claws ripped through the silk.

The demon laughed, flicking her long, serpentine tongue out. "Scarlet? How cheap," she laughed.

"Cheap?" exclaimed Kate, looking in fury at the ripped fabric. "This was Agent Provocateur. It weren't bloody cheap, you bitch!" She dived at Pippa with an anger that she didn't know she possessed. The Pippa demon back-pedalled fast as Kate rained punches in. One broke through, cracking the doppelganger in the face and sending her sprawling onto the steps of the sanctuary.

Kate leapt into a flying drop-kick, hurtling towards Pippa's head. The demon roared, gaining strength from the panic that swirled through the Abbey. She rolled aside, catching Kate in mid-air. The Duchess of Cambridge was hurled sideways, clattering into a stand of candles. She was on her feet in a second, spitting blood but ready to face the demon copy of her sister.

Pippa approached more slowly. Kate realised that the demon was growing in size. The tight white dress had all but fallen away, either ripped by Pippa's growing body or Kate's karate moves. The demon's body was taller, more muscled and more voluptuous. Long fingernails were becoming talons. Pippa's thick, dark hair had escaped from the plait and now seemed to be an almost living mass, swirling around the demon's bare shoulders.

"I see it in your eyes," said the demon, "I see your jealousy at your sister's butt, your sister's style, your sister's freedom. No wonder Pippa hates you so much."

Kate shook her head. "You don't know shit. That girl may have driven me up the wall at times, but, let me tell you, there is more heart and soul in Pippa's toenail than the likes of you will ever have. Pippa's my sister and my BFF and you are going to fucking die."

"Bring it bee-atch," said the demon.

"Oh it's fucking on," replied Kate, swinging a right hook at her.

Swords flashed through the air. Magical sparks and flames burst forth when the blades clashed. Wills ducked as another lethal blow from Harry swept towards him. He managed a partial parry with his own sword, but a streak of black flame sizzled across his chest. His red tunic, which was already torn and stained with black blood, was now starting to burn.

He dived at Harry, stabbing desperately with his glowing sword, catching the demon off guard for a moment: a moment long enough for the Prince to rip the flaming tunic away. His white vest clung to his toned chest with sweat; his muscled arms and shoulders were bare but displayed many small cuts from the sword fight. Wills and the fake Harry face each other across the stalls of the choristers.

Like Pippa, Harry was transforming. He was now a head taller than Wills with longer, more thickly muscled arms. His tunic had been shredded by his growing bulk and Wills' swordplay. His skin was now shiny and grey. Harry's red hair seemed to be on fire, blazing and wild and straggling to his shoulders.

"What are you creatures?" said Wills as he looked for a gap.

"We are years of resentment made flesh," hissed Harry, "I am all of the hatred that your brother has for you. Harry, trapped in your shadow for years, will be in your shadow no longer." Harry lunged forward. His sword swings were becoming less and less refined, but had more and more fury and strength behind them. Wills blocked the blows but was thrust back. He tripped back against a pew, barely managing to roll aside as Harry slammed his blade down. The wooden seating, over a hundred years old and carved from the most solid oak of the kingdom, was reduced to firewood.

Wills scrambled to his feet and aimed a lightning fast blow at Harry's neck. The demon's sword met the Prince's with an explosion of power that made both swordsmen stagger backwards.

"Wrong, you monster," said Wills, "Harry and I are more than brothers; we're best friends, comrades-in-arms and drinking buddies. Whatever twisted bile spawned you, believe me, is going right back down the hole it came from." He charged at Harry.

The furious exchange made the demon retreat this time. Wills blade broke through and gouged a slash across Harry's chest, spraying black blood to the floor. The demon toppled back to the steps to the pulpit with a cackling laugh. Wills approached and the demon bounded to his feet, sword ready once more. "Hurt me, hurt me more, young fool," he hissed.

Although the Queen had gained some small strength as she felt the real Phillip moving the rest of her family, and therefore blood, away from the evil that was possessing the Abbey, she was still exhausted. Marking out lines of power across the floor of the Turbine Hall of Tate Modern was a severe drain on her physical, mental and mystical resources. The job was done now. The evil of the monstrous creation was contained.

The doppelganger Phillip still stalked the perimeter armed with the blunderbuss. The weapon had been recovered from a chamber found beneath a Slovakian castle in World War I. It had proved very effective at holding back the strange and shadowy spirits that prowled the darkness.

The smooth female voice echoed through the air. "Do you think you have trapped me?"

With the voice came ripples of cold despair. The Queen drew on her mystical resources, finding the permanent link with Buckingham Palace and the ancient heart of the nation.

"I know who you are," she whispered.

"Did I make it obvious?" replied the mocking voice.

"Morgan Le Fay," replied the Queen, "defeated and trapped over a thousand years ago by Merlin himself. Maybe you have summoned the power to cause some horror and carnage today, but not even a thousand years of rest will get you much more. You've played your hand too soon. Time for the Heir of Arthur's blood itself to put you to rest for good." The Queen pulled a blue candle from her pack and a simple box of matches.

"Please," said Le Fay, "I beg you. I will pull the demons back. Don't push me back to the darkness."

"Your mistake was capturing Harry and young Miss Middleton," said the Queen, placing the candle carefully at the centre of the vast pentagram she had drawn, "You thought that their doppelgangers would be the way for you to escape into the Abbey. It's worked for a while, but then I suppose you had no idea that I'd be able to find them and rescue them. Once they have killed their doppelgangers, you will be finished in the outside world. Once I'm done here, you'll be destroyed for good."

"How did you find me?" pleaded Le Fay.

The Queen smiled, despite her exhaustion. "I have the trump card it seems. Merlin, your old foe, still serves the line of Arthur, in my vault at the Palace."

"We could rule together," said Le Fay, "I would rule at your side. Think of our power. Think of how we could return Britain to the glories it once knew."

"Glories come and go. It is evil and foolish to keep clinging on to them," said the Queen. She lit the match and held it over the candle's wick. She paused, pondering the incantation she was about to invoke. The candle was formed from the blue blood of her own lineage. Once lit, it would draw the power that had been consumed by Le Fay's monstrous artefact into the endless well that supported the ancient line. As it entered the well it would be purged of all vestiges of Le Fay's cursed soul and the witch would be gone forever.

"Please," screeched Le Fay, one last, desperate time.

The Queen lit the candle.

Harry charged up the steps of the Abbey as terrified wedding guests ran out. Pippa was right on his shoulder, although she clutched at a blossoming bruise on her cheek.

"My sister is really going at it," she said.

Harry whipped round to see if she was alright then stumbled and fell, grabbing at his own chest as he did. He felt his shirt sticking to his chest with blood. "I think Wills just got a good one in too," he said.

Pippa helped Harry up. He recovered his breath and pushed the pain out of his mind. The guests still running down the steps ignored the black-clad pair. "I guess the fighting is why the congregation are so spooked," said Harry.

"Let's get in there before our siblings kill us," said Pippa. They ran into the Abbey.

Carnage greeted them. Screaming guests ran past. Black-eyed monsters leapt at others. A valiant few tried to fight the horde of beasts back. Blood was sprayed everywhere.

"Mother of fuck," said Pippa, "what the hell are we going to do?"

"One thing at a time, I guess," replied Harry, "Let's kill the doppelgangers before they kill Wills or Kate, or Kate and Wills kill us. Then maybe we'll see what we can do about the horde of ravenous monsters."

"That are busy creating more monsters," said Pippa, pointing at their favourite bartender from Martinique, whose throat had been torn out and was now rising with black eyes and twisted claws.

"Kate and Wills are still going at it," said Harry, and the pair looked to the far end of the nave where they could see the flashing blades of Wills and the demon Harry, and the twirling fists and feet of the two sisters.

A familiar scream made Harry turn. He spotted Chelsy, clinging to the side column while the demonic Beckham jumped at her from below.

"Save Chelsy," said Pippa, running forward and unclipping her grappling hook gun. "I'll try to stop the fights." Kicking a demon choirboy aside, then elbowing a possessed celebrity chef in the face, Pippa fired her gun. The hook and its cable, shot up and lodged itself in the stonework far above. She clipped the gun back to her belt and hit the cable-rewind button. The mechanism whined and Pippa swooped up and over the mass of beasts and towards the Altar of the Abbey.

Harry was already running towards Chelsy. He dodged a couple of cops, who foamed black bile from their mouths, punched out an officer from the Irish guards and fired his grappling hook gun. This would have to be timed just right.

He hit the cable-rewind button. The monster Beckham jumped, his claw about to rip into Chelsy's leg.

Harry's boots slammed into Beckham's head, making its black innards burst out. He grabbed Chelsy with one arm and swung further up the wall of the Abbey. They landed on a ledge, far out of the reach of the monsters below.

Harry looked back at the body of David Beckham, dissolving into red and black goo. "I always hated football," he said.

Chelsy, the love of his life, smiled and kissed him.

"How was the wedding?" he asked, smiling back.

"Bloody awful, family arguments," she replied nodding towards the fighting Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

"You're next," said Harry.

Chelsy gave him a look. "Go save the world."

Harry retrieved his grappling hook and aimed for the far end of the Abbey. "See you at the reception then?" He fired the hook and swung away.

Kate swung a punch at the demon Pippa but the demon was too fast. She ducked then came up with a blow to the stomach that doubled Kate over. The monster was quick to follow with a hard kick and Kate went sprawling.

The Duchess of Cambridge rolled across the steps to the high altar. Her vision cleared to see the twisted form of Pippa strutting towards her with grasping talons. Kate's head was still spinning. It couldn't end like this; she tried to find some strength from somewhere. She pushed herself up with her right hand and clenched her left.

Her left hand shook. She glanced at it, feeling a comforting warmth. The sapphire of Diana's engagement ring was glowing. Kate caught her breath and looked up at the grotesque version of her sister above.

"Time to die, Princess," said the demon Pippa.

"I don't think so," said Kate.

Over the demon's shoulder came a figure in black, swinging on the end of a rope. Before the demon could turn, the real Pippa had detached the cable and piled into her with a two-footed kick.

Kate rolled aside as the demon slammed into the steps with Pippa on top of her. The crunch of the demon's spine was audible just before her piercing scream.

Her human form was mortally wounded, so the demon started to abandon it. Her arms grew, the grey skin ripping and bursting as the muscles and bones stretched and swelled. With a serious of hideous clicks and crunches, the demon twisted its spine. The top half of it swelled and transformed into a long-limbed scaly beast. Below the shattered spine, the legs shrivelled away. Another couple of hard twists, and the beast snapped its torso in two: the monstrous and agile top half and the withered and broken bottom. The demon stalked round, its now huge, crimson jaws open and revealing its heavy tusks.

Kate grabbed a thick, bronze candle-stick and hefted it, ready to bring it down on the creature's skull.

"Throw it to me Kate," shouted Pippa, "only I can kill it."

Kate flipped the candle-stick over the beast's head. It followed the object around and came face to face with its counterpart.

"You couldn't beat my sister," said Pippa, "and you won't beat me." The demon had a moment to register fear before the heavy shaft of bronze smashed into its face. The first blow ripped off its jaw; the second crushed its skull. It swayed and Pippa spun, building momentum. The third blow hammered into the demon's head, making it burst apart with a gush of black gore. The bloated body hit the ground and shattered into globules of fizzing, rotting flesh. In moments, the hard stone it landed on was full of pitted holes from the acrid, dissolving carcass.

Kate ran at Pippa and the sisters hugged. Their elation lasted for barely a second. The noise of clashing swords made them break apart. They looked over to see the demon Harry getting knocked back by Wills' superior sword skills and righteous fury.

"We've got to stop Wills," said Pippa.

"Are you mad?" said Kate.

"If Wills kills that monster version of Harry, then the real Harry dies," said Pippa, bounding up the steps and towards the duelling brothers.

Harry swung through the air and watched Wills. The Prince of Wales parried two wild, heavy blows from the doppelganger before replying with a series of fast moves. The glowing blade moved too fast for Harry to see whether it struck home. The sudden pain in his shoulder made him realise that it had.

The demon Harry stumbled back against a choir pew, laughing as bubbling, black foam frothed from his mouth. His sword arm fell to his side.

"It's over monster," cried Wills.

The demon spat at him. Harry shouted. Wills thrust forward with the glowing sword.

The demon screamed and so did Harry. The searing blade plunged into the demon's chest and Harry grabbed at his chest, flexing in the air, with enough force to fall free of his cable gun. He hit the floor, smacking his head and seeing stars.

"Wills," screamed Pippa, "only Harry can kill that thing. They're linked. If the demon is wounded, then Harry will feel the wound too."

Wills, who had been poised to swing the sword and take the monster's head off, stepped back in horror. "What have I done?" he whispered.

Oily smoke and putrid fluid spilled from the wound in the demon's chest, but it wasn't finished yet. Its body continued to transform as the Pippa demon had. Its arms stretched with fingers growing into claws. The fangs turned into savage tusks. It shuffled forward on all fours, more beast than man in form.

"Harry, are you alright?" shouted Wills. With relief, he saw the ashen face of Harry emerge from behind a row of seats. Blood soaked his brother's black shirt.

"I've been better," moaned Harry.

There was a savage howl and another figure rose behind Harry. It was David Cameron, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, or at least, it used to be. Ragged tears were rent down the side of his face and through his top coat and shirt. His eyes were pitch black. His scarlet tongue lashed in and out of his blood-caked mouth. Cameron reared up with claws grasping.

Wills didn't even think. He threw his sword with all the force he could.

Harry ducked; the sword plunged straight into Cameron's chest. The ex-Prime Minister shrieked as he stumbled back before exploding into black and red fragments. The sword was lodged in the thick marble of a supporting column.

Another angry growl came from one side and Harry pulled himself up to see Nick Clegg, Cameron's deputy lurching forward. Harry's vision swam, sweat poured down his face and every part of him just wanted to lie down and die. Every part, except his indomitable will.

He reached, with a weak and trembling hand, for the sword, which still sizzled and hissed with white power. Harry doubted he had the strength to pull it out of the wall, let alone swing it at this undead horror, but it was the only option, and he was not going down without a fight.

His fingers closed around the sword's handle. His eyes blinked rapidly as Harry realised his vision was clearing. His arm trembled but no longer from weakness. The throbbing, draining pain in his chest faded until it turned full circle and became a sudden blaze of energy. The sword came out in a flash and in the same movement, Harry took Clegg's head off. The Deputy Prime Minister's body stayed lurched forward a couple more steps, as if it had not realised that its head had gone, before toppling over and dissolving into nothing.

Re-invigorated, Harry bounded over pews, slashed demons aside and barged his way through to where Chelsy still clung to the ledge. "Jump babe," he called, "I'll catch you."

Chelsy looked at the glowing weapon that Harry wielded, smiled and jumped.

Harry caught her with one arm, put her down and grabbed her hand. "Stay close," he said.

"Like I'm going anywhere," she said as the flesh-hungry horde lurched towards them.

The glowing blade slashed through the demons and gave them an avenue to get back to the relative safety of the altar steps. They ran for the gap only to be bowled over by the tumbling form of Prince William. A monstrous, hairy beast of tusks and claws, the hideous creature that had been the demon Harry, followed him.

The blue flame of the candle flickered. The Queen braced herself for the rush of evil energy. It didn't come.

"Oh dear," said Le Fay, "what's happening, your Majesty?"

The Queen reached for the thick shaft of the candle. Wrapping her fingers around it, she concentrated, trying to feel the ebbs and flows of energy. The hideous reservoir of darkness above was not moving. There was an icy cold sensation at the back of her neck.

"Who helped make your candle, my Queen?" asked Le Fay.

The Queen felt cold sweat on her brow. Beneath her, in the well of energies of her long, long line, something was moving. She thought of Merlin and the arcane incantations he recited as she let her blue blood drip into the wax.

"I've been trapped for centuries," said Le Fay, "but I'm not the only one."

Slivers of power were snaking up from the well. Her power was being sucked into the dark power that Le Fay had accumulated, not the other way round.

"Merlin betrayed you," laughed Le Fay, her voice growing stronger, "like me, trapped for centuries. And he knew that only I could help him escape."

With a great effort, Elizabeth pulled her hand away from the candle. The slivers of energy passing up from her well and into Le Fay were becoming a torrent.

"As you've said, so many times," taunted the rich, strong voice of Le Fay, "you just can't get the staff."

Above the Queen, the hideous, crimson structure was pulsating. It was no longer an object of rubber and plastic; it had become a monstrous piece of living flesh. Thick, gelatinous blood dripped from its rippling hide. Le Fay continued to speak over the growing noise of the creature's awakening.

"Merlin desperately wanted to kill you himself," she said, "but I think the blood-beast here will catch you first."

"Are you too afraid to face me yourself?" said the Queen.

The flow of energy surged, causing a foul wind to billow around the Queen, hunched in the midst of her pentagram. Darkness flowed upwards.

"I'd love to," replied Le Fay in a voice now echoing in the real, "but I have to go to the Abbey to devour your grandchildren." The witch shrieked: a piercing sound that made Elizabeth shudder, even in the protecting pentagram.

There was a smash of glass as something burst through the skylight at the top of the building.

The Queen concentrated, trying to draw whatever power she could to her. Above and around her, the blood beast was coming alive.

The beast that had been the doppleganger Harry fell upon them. Chelsy screamed, Wills swore and Harry gave a sudden howl. Excalibur's power surged, burning Harry's hand. He grunted in pain but the sword wouldn't leave his hand. Harry thrust the blade up, into the demon's guts.

The creature's howl tore at Harry's mind but he carried on pushing and twisting the sword. Foul innards burst from its body, drenching the two Princes and Chelsy.

Its head swung down; repellent breath washed over Harry's face and flecks of venom stung his skin.

"For fuck's sake, just die," he shouted. Harry wrenched Excalibur sideways. The burning blade ripped the creature's body apart. The two halves fell to each side, dissolving with a wretched stench.

Harry passed Excalibur back to Wills. "Thanks bro," he said. The two boys and Chelsy rose. The horde of zombies started lurching at them once more. The three ran to the altar.

As they reached the others, the energy of the sword and the glowing power of Diana's ring created a ring of light that kept the monsters at bay.

"Right then," said Wills, "those monster doubles of yours are dead and the magic sword and ring seem to keep the possessed, flesh-hungry crowd away. Why do I not feel that we've won the day?"

All five of them were backed up against the stone of the altar. Behind the altar, choir boys stood, wincing at the light but still grasping with clawed hands. Ahead of them, stretched down the nave, were hundreds of wedding guests, no longer there to celebrate the day, but intent on devouring live human meat.

Beneath their feet, the stone floor trembled. Here and there, the glass of the Abbey's high stained glass windows shattered and crashed to the ground. Some of the massive columns cracked. Wails of stone scraping on stone filled the air as the whole building quivered. The light from the sunny day outside faded, replaced by a sickly sepia.

"I think we're in trouble," said Chelsy. They looked at the horde. Before the tremors, they had been wincing at the white light that the five wielded. Now, they were starting to grin, horrible, fang-filled grins.

A flicker caught Harry's eye and he looked up to the high vaulted roof.

"Oh lordy-lord," he muttered, "we are most definitely in trouble."

"Phillip," called the Queen, "to me." The doppelganger strutted over to the Queen; she took his hands and looked into his eyes. She concentrated, trying to find her own blue-blooded power and to ignore the blood-beast's ravenous bulk.

The Queen focused on Phillip's eyes. Through the doppelganger, she looked into the real Phillip. She could see he had made it back to the Palace with the rest of the family; it was a spark of hope in this deluge of despair.

She reached further through the link between the two Phillips and found her own duplicate. Transference, they called it. It was tricky, dangerous but, unfortunately, her only option.

"Back to the Palace," whispered Phillip through the tenuous link between their minds.

"I'm afraid not, dear," said the Queen. "I'm needed at the Abbey."

With her iron will, the Queen grasped at every vestige of power she had. She felt her physical body dissolve, along with the duplicate Phillip.

The screech was more than piercing; it was a lance to the soul. Harry, Chelsy and Pippa clutched their ears in pain and crumpled to the floor. Kate and Wills, armed with the glowing sword and Diana's ring were still able to stand in mere agony.

Huge chunks of stonework fell, shattering on the floor of the nave and crushing dozens of the possessed. A black, winged creature came smashing through the roof. It followed the falling stones and glass: landing with enough force to make the ground shake.

It folded its membranous wings in on itself and stalked towards the five at the altar. Its long neck snaked forward; at the end was a head that was mostly mouth. It was a mouth that was mostly fangs. Venom dripped from the fangs and burned sizzling holes into the stone floor. The demons all gave way.

It reared up as it reached the altar steps and shrieked once more. Wills stepped forward and lunged at it with his glowing sword. The fanged head recoiled and hissed.

The black body contracted, the neck shrank and the fang-filled mouth transformed into the pale face of a woman. In moments, where there had been a serpent-like monster, there was now a slim woman. She was clad in wisps of black smoke. Her eyes were the black orbs of the possessed.

"Excalibur will not keep you safe for long, Wills," said Le Fay.

"Long enough for this," shouted Wills. He jumped down the steps swing the blade at Le Fay. She jumped back and lashed out with her hand. From her fingers came tendrils of black that whipped against the Prince. He severed a couple of them with Excalibur, but three others left scorch marks across his chest. Le Fay hissed in pain while Wills groaned.

Wills forced himself to stay standing, with the glowing blade ahead of him. Le Fay staggered back, her body jerking with sudden changes in form. Her shoulder grew spikes and fangs once more stretched out of her mouth. Wills could see the witch fight to regain self-control as her body settled back to its lithe, female form. Harry was tapping at his wrist panel.

"My demons are spreading across the city," she said, "The crowds that gathered to celebrate now know fear as more and more of them are either devoured or turned to serve me."

Thunder boomed and more windows shattered. A ragged bolt of red lightning blasted through the north wall of the Abbey, making two of the supporting columns crack and collapse.

"We need to get out of here," said Harry, stepping closer to Wills. "We need more firepower and we can only get that at the Palace."

Le Fay snarled and lashed at the brothers. Wills parried the flailing tendrils with Excalibur, but both Princes had to jump back.

There was another pair of mighty booms, this time inside the Abbey. Two huge balls of flame erupted near the door, throwing demons aside. Many of the possessed fled, screaming and burning.

As the bright orange flame turned to balls of black smoke, the Aston Martin shot through. Its headlights folded back and guns extended out. Bright yellow laser bolts lanced out of the guns, blasting more of the possessed apart and clearing a way through.

"That's our ride," shouted Harry.

Wills saw Le Fay was distracted and jumped forward, swinging at her with Excalibur. With a shriek, she jerked away. The Aston Martin screeched to a halt with a wicked skid, turning 180 degrees. The five dived into the car, Harry in the driver's seat and Wills beside him. The ladies crammed in the back.

"You said this thing had plenty of room in the back," said Chelsy.

"It does," replied Harry, "at least for what I had planned, but not necessarily for a desperate escape from the forces of evil."

"Shut it," said Wills slashing at Morgan Le Fay, "and boot it".

Harry did as he was told and floored the accelerator.

The awesome car blasted through a few ragged demons and out of the Abbey. They heard Le Fay's furious scream behind them.

Harry wrenched the wheel round and hit the gas, screeching into Parliament Square. He swung to the left, heading for Birdcage Walk, the quickest route to the Palace. They screeched to a halt.

"Maybe we'll take the long route," said Harry as he looked along Birdcage Walk.

Thousands of demons, all transformed from the previously happy crowds in St James Park were bounding over the iron railings and swarming along the road. The blood-crazed mob of fury surged at them, intent on tearing the five apart.

The Queen materialised in a dizzy heap. She staggered into a pew and threw up. Transference was a terrible process.

She straightened up to see a horde of demons surrounding her. They seemed surprised by her sudden appearance. Looking down, she noticed a bloody smear across the floor where she had materialised. That would be it. Transference involved the movement of terrible power. Something in the way when she came through wouldn't have much chance.

"You may have escaped the blood beast," shrieked the winged horror that stalked through the demonic mob, "but you will die here."

Elizabeth looked around. She reached out with the few psychic powers she possessed. "But you still haven't got Wills or Kate or Harry, have you?" she asked Le Fay.

"The transference energy," said Le Fay, "that's what gave them enough power to get through."

"Excellent," said the Queen, "just you and me then?"

Le Fay howled, throwing out a burst of power that floored all of the demons in the Abbey. Her monstrous form swelled and grew, stretching out and sucking in all of the shadows in the Abbey. More bolts of red lightning blasted through the roof and walls.

Elizabeth slid to the floor with a hand to her head. Cold sweat covered her. She was spent. The stone floor shook and the whole edifice was groaning as its ancient columns and buttresses rocked. At least Wills and Excalibur were still alive. There was some hope left.

Harry wrenched the gear stick into reverse and backed up fast. Thunder cracked across the city. The sky was filled with billowing clouds of sickly yellow. Red lightning blasted down, shattering buildings and gouging smoking holes in the roads. Harry pulled up the handbrake and swung the wheel, spinning the car 180 degrees. They paused for a moment to gaze on Westminster Abbey.

The great building, which had stood for a thousand years and seen the crowning of monarchs and the history of a nation, was collapsing in on itself. With every piece of masonry that toppled, sparks and flames of black power erupted from the rubble. Another giant bolt of red struck it and the final remnants were shattered. An evil black cloud rose up, taking shape as a winged beast.

"It's Le Fay," shouted Wills, "and her power is growing every second. He looked to the west. There was one golden break in the canopy of sick clouds. "The Palace still stands. Let's go." Harry floored it again, now roaring up Horse Guards to the East of St James Park. There was a furious horde in front of them and a furious horde behind them.

Harry ripped his wristband off and passed it to Wills. Grabbing the wheel again, he floored the accelerator and roared towards the howling horde that charged down Horse Guards at them. He hit a couple of switches and rockets shot out at the demons. The explosions threw body parts in all directions and gave the Aston Martin a few more hundred yards of space.

"It was meant to be a surprise," said Harry to Wills. "The chaps at RAF Wattisham have got a Sea King geared up and ready to go at the Palace. It was going to accompany you and Kate when you drove to Clarence House."

Wills handed Excalibur to Kate. "Darling, would you keep those demon things away?" He started hitting the controls. "It's on its way," he said. "Now, if we can just stay alive for five more minutes..."

A demon leapt at them from the railings along St James Park. Kate lopped its head off with a deft swipe. The gap that the rockets had opened up had allowed them to get halfway towards the Mall but the horde was closing in again.

"There should be guns in the side compartments," said Harry. "Crack them out and start shooting."

Pippa flipped a panel beside her and pulled out a stubby automatic gun. Her commando training came in useful again as she blasted back one crazed monster after another.

Wills found a pair of Uzis and, with one in each hand, laid waste to more of the horde. Chelsy opened up with a heavy hand gun.

A piercing shriek made them all wince. A dark shadow billowed overhead, followed by a spray of sizzling venom. The winged beast that was Le Fay dived at the fast-moving car, long claws lashing at the five occupants.

Kate stood in her seat and slashed back at Le Fay. The hot blade of Excalibur cut through a grasping talon, spraying black blood across Kate. She screamed as it scorched her perfect skin, but the pain only roused her fury.

The power of Diana's ring and the heat of Excalibur rippled out in a ball of energy, making Le Fay swoop up and away.

Another pair of rockets blew up more monsters and bought them a precious sliver of space. Harry gunned the engine even more and they were able to screech onto the Mall. As they sped around, they could see straight down the Mall to the Queen Victoria memorial and the bulk of Buckingham Palace beyond.

The Palace was beacon of blue sky and sunlight amidst the churning clouds and crimson lightning. There were thousands of blood-crazed demons between the Aston Martin and that beacon of light.

A black shape rose up from behind the Palace. "It's the chopper," said Harry.

"Great," said Wills, "blow some more monsters up and we'll meet it halfway."

Harry hit the switches and the accelerator. More balls of fire ripped through the horde, but there was a non-stop flow of the demons to fill the gaps.

Chelsy popped a cartridge out of her gun, slammed another in place and resumed firing. "Ammo's running low, ginger," she shouted above the howling of the horde and the hammering of the guns.

Harry only had a couple of rockets left and the car's machine guns would last for only a few more bursts. He swung the wheel furiously from side to side, thanking Aston Martin again and again for their superior automotive engineering as the car weaved between knots of demons. Flicking his gaze upwards for a second, he saw the chopper getting closer. Christ, this was going to be tight.

The black shadow of Le Fay fell across them again, accompanied by another piercing shriek. Kate lashed at the winged demon with Excalibur. The others had to keep their attention on the demon horde.

"Come down here, bitch," shouted Kate at Le Fay. As she raged at the witch, she spotted the red glow in the cloud above them.

"Fuck it," she shouted, "jump!"

Kate dived from the moving car, hitting the ground and rolling. She jumped out of her roll, thanks to years of high-class gym training at school, and slashed three demons in half with the sword. Wills, Harry, Pippa and Chelsy leapt after her just as the crimson bolt hit the car.

They rolled into balls as the car exploded, narrowly avoiding being hit by the flying debris.

With ringing ears, Harry pushed himself up. He spat blood from his mouth. He backed up and bumped into his brother. The five formed a wary circle. Ten metres away stood the demon horde, glaring at them, claws grasping, ready for the word from their mistress to charge in and finish the five. Circling above, Le Fay roared in triumph.

At the Palace, Phillip stood, with his eyes closed, trying, desperately trying, to reach his beloved wife.

"Anything, Papa?" asked Anne, at his side.

"Nothing," he rasped.

Edward, wearing a pair of headphones, leaned out of a window. "Andrew says he's closing in fast in the Sea King," he shouted, "but there's some bloody great bat-thing in the way."

"Le Fay," whispered Phillip.

The sound of the Sea King helicopter was coming closer now. Harry felt a moment of hope but then saw Le Fay's winged, vile form swoop round to meet it. Another shriek summoned another bolt of red lightning. The chopper jerked sideways and the bolt blasted the ground, blowing a pair of demons to bits and setting a dozen more on fire. More bolts rained down, but whoever was flying the helicopter swung it around like a lunatic and was missed every time.

Le Fay roared in fury and flew straight at the chopper. Her claws slammed against its hull, making at tumble across the sky. The pilot just about kept control.

"Uncle Andrew always was such a bloody show-off," said Wills. He spotted the door at the side opening. A ladder was flung down, but the chopper was still too high for them to grab it. The furious beast that was Le Fay was diving in for another attack.

Wills snatched Excalibur from Kate's hand and shouted at Harry. "Give me a leg up, I can reach the ladder."

Harry cupped his hand as Wills jumped. Harry shoved with all his might and propelled Wills upwards. The Duke of Cambridge grabbed the ladder with one hand and swung Excalibur with the other.

Le Fay came at the chopper, talons outstretched. Wills swung with the momentum of the wildly flying helicopter and timed his leap with it. He flew at Le Fay, swinging Excalibur.

He cut off one of her claws and grabbed the other leg with his free hand. Le Fay bucked through the air and away from the chopper. The Prince hung on to her limb and tried to get a clean stab with the sword. The helicopter descended.

Harry practically threw Chelsy onto the ladder, closely followed by Pippa. He grabbed Kate's wrist and shoved her onto the ladder, shouting at her to move. Harry was right behind as the chopper lifted. He swung his feet up as the grasping claws of the horde reached for him.

Chelsy and Pippa were soon at the top of the ladder and being pulled inside by Beatrice and Eugenie. Kate reached the top but stopped to look round at her husband, still clinging to Le Fay. Prince Andrew tried to swing the chopper towards them but a bolt of lightning blasted between them and he had to veer away.

Wills looked back and locked eyes with Kate. He shouted to Harry. "You'll need this," and then flung Excalibur towards the swinging rope ladder. The sword landed in Harry's palm. He gave his brother a silent salute.

Wills mouthed a silent "I love you," to Kate, then started punching at Le Fay with everything he had. The witch sank her teeth into his shoulder, but the Prince refused to give up and grasped at the thick, serpentine neck. They tumbled through the air, away across St James's Park.

Andrew saw his chance and gunned the Sea King forward, charging back to the Palace.

With the chopper away, Wills let go. He plunged hundreds of feet to the ground, taking a few more demons with him as he hit the ground.

****

# CHAPTER FOUR

The helicopter landed in the courtyard of Buckingham Palace. The Duke of Edinburgh was first down the steps and charged towards the helicopter while its blades still whirred.

"Where is she?" cried Prince Phillip as the group stumbled out of the helicopter. "Where's my bloody wife? Where's the Queen?"

He stopped in his tracks as he saw Harry's crestfallen face and the sword in his hand. He saw the Duchess of Cambridge being supported by her sister, both with tears in their eyes.

"Oh dear Lord," he exclaimed, "not Wills. Not Wills too." The old man sagged and Princess Anne quickly reached out to support him. Phillip looked at Andrew, who had climbed from the cockpit.

Andrew came over to his father and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Wills gave his life to save us. Only Excalibur could have held off Le Fay and as the heir, only he could wield it".

There was a vicious crack of thunder. A crimson bolt sizzled overhead and was dispersed by the magical shields around the Palace, although sparks of red energy continued to crackle through the air.

"But Le Fay's not dead," said Phillip.

"Don't blame Wills," said Kate. "He saved us."

"Oh my dear," said Phillip reaching out to the girl he thought of as his granddaughter, "I'm not blaming him. He gave his life, as did Charles and, it seems, as did my Elizabeth."

Harry was jolted from the shock of losing his brother. "What do you mean? What about Gran? She said she was going to transfer from the Tate Modern?"

Phillip rubbed a hand across his face. "She changed her mind. She was going to transfer to the Abbey, she sensed you needed her. But..."

There were more cracks of thunder and more crimson lightning. The magical shields were showing strain. The bright blue sky above the Palace was starting to darken. Yellow wisps of cloud were gathering.

Andrew looked up warily. "It makes sense now," he said. "Without Mama, the power of Buckingham Palace is severely weakened. Without a Queen we're as good as done for."

Phillip found new energy. Where his back had slumped before, his spine was now a rod of iron. "By God, we'll go down fighting," he thundered.

Kate wiped away her tears and stood tall, next to the Duke of Edinburgh. "And who says we have no Queen. If the Queen was gone, then Wills was King and that made me his Queen. And I may have lost my husband, my King, but I am still Queen bloody Catherine." She thumped her left hand, with Diana's ring starting to glow again, into her right. "And if Le Fay wants to bring it here, then let her fucking come."

"Oh yes," said Pippa, inspired by the fire in Phillip's eyes and the steel in Kate's voice, "this isn't lost yet." She looked at the huge building that surrounded them. "You must have some weapons in this place, surely? We're going to need guns. Lots of guns."

Harry clicked his fingers. "Weapons? We've got the best weapon of all. Merlin."

"Some nickname for a really big gun?" asked Chelsy.

"No, Merlin. The Merlin, the greatest wizard of any age, could kick Potter, Voldemort and Dumbledore's nuts into a hat before breakfast. We've got Merlin. At least, we've got his head. But that should be enough. He defeated Le Fay before. And he'll do it again."

Harry picked up Excalibur with fresh purpose and walked towards the door.

They called it the Balcony Room. Its double doors opened out onto the balcony from where generations of British Royalty had waved to the masses.

"Why here?" asked Pippa, not looking at Harry, or to be precise, not wanting to look at the thing he held in his arms.

"Because it's the heart and soul of the nation, darling," wheezed Merlin. "To turn Le Fay's evil around, we need to channel power. And so much has been channeled through here: coronations, weddings, the big jubilees, even VE Day. It's all flowed through the balcony. This will be the last part of the Palace to fall. So this is the best place to fight back."

The thunder and lightning came faster and faster. The great, solid walls of the Palace shook with each ominous crack. The gardens were full of craters from the lightning bolts. The walls still held enough power to keep the demonic hordes at bay, but everyone in the Palace could feel the malignant will of Le Fay baring upon them.

"Do we really need to go out there?" asked Chelsy.

"Oh yes," said Kate, "this is where Le Fay wants to fight so let's go and have it."

The Duchess of Cambridge stepped up to the doors.

"Oh wow," she said as she looked through the curtains at the carnage beyond. She pushed open the doors and stepped through.

London was burning. The yellow clouds, lit up with orange flame and red lightning, cast a sick and bloody pall across the city. The sky above the Palace was the only place with any blue, yet even that was being infiltrated by ever growing masses of cloud.

In the distance, many of the tower blocks of the city were aflame, adding great columns of black to the oppressive skies. Nearer by, Kate could see that Nelson's column was gone from view.

The trees of the park to either side of the Mall were on fire or uprooted.

The destruction of London was appalling, but the hideous mob was far more terrifying. The demons were crammed all the way from Admiralty Arch, overwhelming the Victoria memorial and jammed up against the Palace gates.

A mere few hours before those millions of people had been celebrating the wedding. Now they had been twisted into monsters, baying for blood.

A now familiar screech filled the air and the huge form of Le Fay swooped overhead. It had been growing. The creature settled on top of the Victoria memorial. Kate was pleased to see that it had to balance on one claw; the one Wills had hacked through remained a bloody stump.

It stretched its neck out and extended its wings with more screeching. The demonic horde was driven to a frenzy. Kate could see many being pushed against the gates, their black blood spurting through the iron posts as their bodies were crushed by the unstoppable weight of the horde behind them.

Harry carried the head of Merlin forward. Pippa brought the pedestal out and Harry placed Merlin upon it so that he could look straight at his nemesis. Harry felt Excalibur suddenly become warm in the scabbard at his side.

"Well, come on then," said Phillip, "do something. You're out of the vault. Destroy the bitch."

Merlin gave a low, unpleasant laugh. "You never liked me, did you Phil?"

Kate could not take her eyes off Le Fay. Her left hand was shaking as she felt the power of Diana's ring building.

"Do as you're bloody told," said Phillip to the grim skull.

"You asked for it," replied Merlin.

The skull opened its mouth and screamed. Chelsy stumbled back clutching her ears. It was a ragged fingernail scraping down her soul. Loud booms echoed through the air as flaming cracks of white light sparked across the sky.

Le Fay shrieked again and jumped forward. She swooped forward and slammed her body against the magical shield that extended above the gates. There was a crackle and burst of energy and the giant winged serpent flew through. With howls of bloodthirsty triumph, the weight of the demon horde, now unfettered by the magical shields, caused the gates to crumple. Hundreds of demons were trampled. Thousands more came surging forward.

"Feel it?" roared Merlin.

"Jesus," cried Harry. The scabbard crackled then briefly burst into flame before evaporating altogether. He brought the sword up, barely able to look at the bright glowing blade.

"A thousand years of power," Merlin shrieked, "all flowing now. The energy of thousands of men and women, captured by Le Fay's sculpture, all twisted and brought back to me. The death of the monarch, the death of my jailer. At last I am free. Free to wield the power that is now rightfully mine. The power to rule!"

Le Fay came diving in, her crimson maw full of venomous fangs lunging towards Kate.

Harry tried to step in, swinging Excalibur but he felt a wall of heat come from Merlin.

"Only the monarch can wield Excalibur, boy," laughed Merlin.

Kate did not flinch. The monstrous head of Le Fay plunged at her face. Kate's left hook was as powerful as her right hook, but now imbued with the energy of Princess Diana's ring.

The blue sapphire broke Le Fay's skull. Black blood and sizzling yellow venom sprayed from the wound and the creature slammed into the balcony. Everyone but Harry and Kate were thrown back by the impact.

The creature clung on to the balcony. Beneath, thousands of the demons had charged and were jumping and grasping to get up. Windows were being smashed below. The monsters were penetrating the Palace.

Kate stepped up to the serpentine monster, reached out and pulled the broken head towards her. It had partially transformed back into the more human form of Le Fay.

"No," it shrieked.

Kate spat in its face, then pulled back her left fist again and punched it.

The punch, filled with power, tore the head clean off. It rolled through the air, dissolving into black spray. The body toppled from the balcony and onto the demons below. Some were crushed by it; others leapt on it and started feeding.

A powerful rush of warm air hit Kate and she was thrown to the floor.

"Thanks love," shouted Merlin, above the noise of the demonic frenzy. "Now all of the power is mine. Not even Diana's ring can stop me now." Red lightning rained down, blasting at the wings of the Palace. The blue sky was almost completely gone.

Fragments of stonework were falling from the shaking Palace, tumbling towards Merlin's skull. Some stuck to the skull, forming flesh and skin. Larger chunks built a backbone, starting to form a skeleton and body.

Infernal heat rippled out from the growing form of Merlin's body. The curtains of the balcony room burst into flame. The surviving family, all in the Balcony Room scrambled back.

Andrew reached for the door out to the main corridor. He opened it, looked out and was met by demonic roars. Ragged undead lurched towards him, spitting their black bile. He slammed the door again. In moments the doors were being hammered by the monsters outside. Inside the balcony room, flames started to lick along the cornice of the high ceiling. The heat made Andrew fall to the floor, where he joined the rest of the group. Through the shimmering haze and billowing smoke, he could make out a towering figure on the balcony.

Pippa was stretched out on the floor. She tried to see through the smoke and haze: tried to see her sister. The smoke swirled and she caught a glimpse of Kate's leg. She started to crawl forward, trying to ignore the awesome heat, trying to ignore the pain and the blisters. Her throat burned, her body was in agony, but still she would make it to her sister. Kate would not die alone. Harry's voice suddenly broke through the hammering of the horde, the crackle of the flames and the roaring heat.

"God damn you, Merlin," he shouted, "you obey me. I command you to pull back. I command you to destroy the demons and suck the power back in."

The glass of the floor to ceiling windows shattered, and Pippa had to bury her face in the ash-covered carpet to avoid being hit by it. She raised her head to see Merlin, towering over Harry, who was on the floor, propped up by one arm and pointing at the wizard with Excalibur.

Smoke swirled around Merlin, forming into a thick, black cloak, streaked with red fire. His body was clad in black armour. His head was no longer a grim, skinless skull, but covered in thick, white hair with a beard that stretched to his waist. His eyes were black, like Le Fay's possessed demons. He threw back his head and laughed.

"Only the monarch commands me," he roared. "The Queen is dead. The Prince of Wales is dead. The Duke of Cambridge is dead. I rule now."

"No," coughed Pippa, "Harry is King now. You obey him..." A sudden revelation shook her.

She felt the pain leave her. The heat receded. Pippa stood up. The room was still ablaze. The rest of the survivors still cowered on the floor, overwhelmed by the heat and evil energy.

Pippa stepped over to Merlin, reached up and tapped him on the shoulder. The wizard turned his head.

"Of course," she said to Merlin, but loud enough for Harry to hear, "if you won't obey Harry, then he can't be King. Which means, at least one of the others are alive."

Merlin turned to face her fully. He raised his gauntleted hands. Flames crackled between his fingers. "Time to die, young lady," he said.

"This isn't real, Harry," said Pippa, "at least, not real real."

Harry, who had nearly passed out from the terrible heat, tried to understand her.

"You explained it to me, Harry," said Pippa. "It's where myth meets reality. Myth can become real. If it's strong enough it can be real real. But until they are real real, then the myth can go back to being just that. The real and the myth can exist together, one on top of the other.

"And that's what's happening here. If this was real real, then the Queen, Prince Charles and Wills would be really dead and you'd be King, and Merlin would have to obey you."

Merlin's confidence was fading. The power at his fingertips was being reduced to the barest sparks. The solid, black armour was beginning to crack.

"But Merlin isn't obeying you, which means the others are still alive, or at worst, only dead in myth. This isn't real real yet."

Harry felt the heat fade away. He stood up. The sky was still filled with boiling clouds and red lightning; monsters were still assaulting the Palace and smashing their way through to the Balcony Room. But right there, on the balcony with Pippa and Merlin, Harry realised what reality was. He blinked to see the shadowy figure of the Queen, in her best wedding clothes, standing nearby.

"Well done, Miss Middleton," she said with a smile.

Kate had risen to join her sister. She could see Wills stood between Merlin and the balcony balustrade. He was hazy, not as defined as the Queen. Pippa and Harry didn't notice him; Kate realised they couldn't see him. She stepped towards her husband.

In Harry's hand, Excalibur was glowing.

"Only the monarch can wield Excalibur," said Merlin, "you are the King. The rest are dead." He lunged at Harry, flames roaring up again from his hands.

Harry struck back; driving the sword into Merlin's chest. The wizard slumped to his knees. Chunks of his armour broke free, crumbling as they hit the ground. His beard and hair withered back, his skin melted away, leaving just the hideous skull.

"How little you understand," said the still hazy form of the Queen. "The power of the monarchy is held by far more than one person. Excalibur serves those who use it for the nation and for justice."

Harry twisted the sword and Merlin's body broke apart. The skull bounced to the floor.

"I'm not beaten yet," hissed Merlin.

The doors to the Balcony Room finally gave in and dozens of howling demons stormed through. Andrew, Anne, Chelsy and the others tried to rise as the room burned around them. The demons weren't held back by the flames. Even as they caught fire, their blood frenzy drove them on. The others fell beneath the onslaught.

"But this is not real. That is," said the Queen pointing towards the hazy form of Wills and Kate stepping up next to him.

Wills grew more solid and smiling. Kate's wedding dress reformed around her.

A demon lunged at Pippa and she kicked it back. Another jumped at Harry and he slashed it through with Excalibur. There were a dozen more to take their place.

Wills and Kate kissed.

Harry blinked sweat from his eyes and looked out from the balcony. A million people packed the Mall, all the way back to Admiralty Arch. A million people waved flags and cheered. He looked to the side and saw Wills and Kate kissing. Wills' goddaughter was clearly not impressed by the noise. In front of Harry was the beautiful form of Pippa, in her figure-hugging white dress. Her bum looked awesome. He leaned forward.

"You do look really beautiful today, seriously," he said.

Pippa turned her head. "I always look better when there aren't hordes of monsters attacking me."

Harry stifled his laugh. He caught his Grandmother's eye. She smiled and gave both of them a respectful nod.

The Queen stepped through the carnage of Buckingham Palace with Prince Phillip close behind.

"Little bastards," muttered the Duke, "no bloody respect. Look at this place." He kicked an empty tequila bottle aside. There was a giggle in the room to his left. A girl, clad only in bright blue pants and bra, backed out of the room and into the Duke.

She looked round, laughing, but then stopped as she saw who she'd bumped into.

The Queen sighed. "Young lady, have you seen Prince Harry?"

The girl gave an embarrassed curtsy. "I think he's in the Balcony Room, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Miss Chambers. I trust you will be helping to clean up later?"

"Of course, Ma'am," she said.

The Queen and Prince Phillip arrived at the Balcony room. A pair of legs jutted out from beneath a piano. Phillip kicked them.

Harry, wearing nothing but a leopard skin posing pouch, crawled out. He looked rough.

"Ah Gran," he said, "don't worry, we'll have it all sorted out in no time."

Phillip shoved a sword into Harry's hand. "Come on, party boy," he said. "One thing to sort out now."

The three stood in the vault, in front of the pedestal. The heavy black cloth covered the thing that stood on it. Harry wished they'd have let him get dressed. He didn't feel like facing the wizard that had nearly destroyed the nation and world in just his underpants. And the vault was cold.

The Queen whipped the cloth away and poked Merlin in the centre of the forehead.

He coughed and snarled. The boggly, glass eyes swivelled between the Queen, Phillip and Harry. They settled on the sword in Harry's hands.

"I would say it's been a pleasure Liz," said Merlin, "but frankly, it hasn't."

"You have my apologies, Merlin, we should have done this centuries ago," said the Queen.

"I was close though," said Merlin, "wasn't I? If the demons had got Pippa and Harry, if the demons had got Kate, what then?"

"Too much faith in hate and violence," said the Queen. "They'll only get you so far. But the kiss? Everything came down to the kiss."

"Next time," he muttered.

"I think not," said the Queen. She stood back.

Harry stepped forward raising Excalibur. Merlin looked at him. Harry looked back. He brought the sword down with enough force to send a painful jar back up his arms. The skull was smashed into fragments, which crumbled to dust then dissolved to nothing.

The Queen looked at Harry. "Well done," she said. Harry smiled with pride. The Queen's expression changed. "Now get dressed and clean up my Palace. I'll be in my lounge, watching the racing."

****

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Richard Barnes lives in Wellington, New Zealand and writes sci-fi, fantasy, horror and whatever else comes to mind. His short stories feature in "Masters of Horror: The Anthology", "A Foreign Country: New Zealand Speculative Fiction" and most recently, "Tales from the Bell Club."

His occasional ramblings are posted to http://richardbarneswriter.blogspot.co.nz
