“You’re not putting my mother in a cell,” he repeated. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Marie Carpenter looked at her son, and felt her chest swell with pride.

He can barely stand up, he’s so tired. But he’s still fighting for me.

They had sat next to each other on the flight back to base. Paul Turner, Admiral Seward, and the survivors of Lindisfarne had flown home on the Mina II, the supersonic jet covering the distance in less than twenty minutes. The rest of the operators, the men dispatched to clean up the blood-soaked monastery, would return home in the helicopters that were waiting on the headland and at the mainland end of the causeway.

Mother and son had said very little during the flight. As they had blasted off from the small island, the jet shuddering beneath their feet as it hauled itself into the air, Marie had stayed turned away from Jamie; her shame at what had been done to her, and what he had seen her do, still too great for her to bear. He hadn’t pushed her, or hurried her; he just sat next to her, his head back against his seat, his eyes open, looking at his mother with a smile on his face. Larissa and Kate watched him from across the cabin, as did Admiral Seward and Terry, expressions of sadness on their faces. Paul Turner appeared to be asleep, his cold eyes closed, his head tipped back. Jamie barely noticed them; he just looked at the back of his mother’s head, his face alight with love, and relief.

Eventually, she spoke. “Stop it, Jamie,” she said. “I can feel you staring at me.”

He didn’t reply, nor did he stop looking at his mother.

She spun around and stared at him. “I told you to stop it, Jamie,” she said, fiercely. Then she saw the look on her son’s face, and the fight went out of her. Her face softened, and she reached over and put her arms around him.

Jamie returned her embrace, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you, Mom,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She shushed him and held him close. Across the cabin, a smile crept across Kate’s face, and she looked at Larissa. The vampire girl was crying, tears running down her pale face, but she made no attempt to wipe them away.

When the Mina II rolled to a halt at the end of the long runway, the exhausted group of men and women stumbled down the aircraft’s ramp and onto the warm tarmac. Marie was walking steadily on her own, having refused all offers of assistance, Larissa was floating a few inches above the ground, and Jamie had fallen in beside Admiral Seward, who kept glancing at him with a look of mild astonishment on his face, as if he needed to keep checking that the teenager had really stood face-to-face with Alexandru Rusmanov and emerged victorious.

They were walking silently toward the hangar when suddenly the great double doors began to slide open, spilling light across the taxiway, illuminating the tired faces of the approaching figures. Then noise filled the air, as tens of Blacklight operators burst from the hangar and ran to them. Jamie cast a nervous look in Admiral Seward’s direction, but the director merely smiled.

The tide of black-clad men and women stopped in front of Jamie and Seward, and for a moment, there was silence. Then a lone pair of hands began to clap, then another, and another, until the applause was deafening, punctuated with yells and cheers. Jamie took half a step backward and found Admiral Seward’s hand on the small of his back. He looked up at the director, confusion on his face.

“That’s not for me,” said Seward, softly, then began to clap as well, stepping away from Jamie so the teenager stood alone, surrounded by cheering operators and the beaming faces of his family and his new friends. A smile crept across his face, and he walked slowly into the throng, which quickly swallowed him up in a tornado of hugs and handshakes and thumps on the back that nearly knocked the tired teenager off his feet.

“It’s fine, Jamie,” said Marie Carpenter. “It’s the sensible thing to do. I’ll be fine in the cell while we work out what to do.”

Jamie looked at her. Her face was open and honest, her eyes wide, a slight flicker of fear at the corners of her mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied. “Will you come and see me after you get some sleep?”

“Of course,” he said. “I promise.”

“I’ll escort you down,” said Terry, and stepped gently to Marie’s side.

“Thank you,” she said, then looked at her son. “Thank you,” she said again, and he smiled as the instructor led his mother out of the Ops Room.

Tiredness crashed through Jamie.

He looked around the room; Larissa and Kate were chatting amiably, and Admiral Seward was deep in conversation with Major Turner. He walked over and interrupted them.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, his voice cracking. “Do you think someone can find out if the boy in the infirmary is still in a coma? His name’s Matt. I think I’m going to go and lie down, but I’d like to visit him in the morning.”

Seward looked surprised at the request but said he would see to it personally. Jamie thanked him, turned, and walked unsteadily out of the room.

He bumped into the wall twice as he made his way to the elevator at the end of the corridor, the low hum of the base all around him. He pressed the button for the second underground level and closed his eyes. When the doors slid open less than fifteen seconds later, they jolted him from sleep that had dragged him down the second his eyelids met. Jamie shoved himself out of the elevator and pushed open the door to the dormitory. He stumbled through the long room and was about to use the last of his energy to hurl himself onto his bed, when a white object caught his eye.

It was an envelope, standing on the small table beside his bed. Two words were written on it in beautiful, elegant script:

Jamie Carpenter

He lifted it from the table, tiredness pulling relentlessly at him, and tore it open. A single sheet of paper fluttered out onto his green bed, covered in more of the same careful handwriting.

Read it tomorrow. Lie down. It’s probably not important. Lie down.

Jamie shook his head, and the fog of tiredness lifted temporarily. He lifted the sheet of paper and began to read.

Dear Jamie,

If you are reading this, it means I didn’t make it back from Lindisfarne. If that is the case, I don t want you to mourn me—I lived a life full of wonders, alongside some of the finest men and women ever to walk this small planet. I would not have changed a moment of it.

I am now certain that Thomas Morris is working against you—I have suspected it for some time, and I became sure when he brought up the night your father was lost. I believe he has been trying to separate us, as he knew that I would not allow any harm to come to you. And now he has achieved his aim. So I am going to follow you to Lindisfarne—I pray I will not be too late.

You deserve to know the truth, Jamie. I am sorry that I could not tell you the nature of things before now, but until the true betrayer of Blacklight revealed himself, it was too dangerous. I now believe that person has made themselves known, and the truth can come out.

Look after yourself, Jamie. Your ancestors would be proud of what you have done so far, but I believe you have the potential to do extraordinary things in the years to come. My only regret is that I will not be there to see them.

Your friend,

Victor Frankenstein

Tears spilled from Jamie’s eyes and splashed onto the letter, causing the black ink to run, obscuring Frankenstein’s words. His heart felt as though someone had squeezed it; it hung heavily and painfully in his chest, as hot as a furnace, as hard as coal.