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void and found that he was unconscious, but breathing. At least for the moment. Voids were basically humans who live twice as long. But despite the slightly longer lifespan, they could be hurt and killed as easily as any human. The fact that they’re so rare, and capable of so much power, just made them more annoying.
    “Is everyone okay?” I asked the hostages. I counted twenty- seven, and none of them appeared to have life-threatening injuries , although some of them looked like they’d been given a bit of a kicking at some point.
    A few people nodded.
    One, an elderly lady whose husband looked like he’d been punched in the face, walked over to the void and kicked him, causing the void to cry out.
    She took my hand in hers. “My husband needs medical attention,” she said.
    “He’ll get it,” I explained.
    She nodded thanks and then returned to her husband’s side, although from the smile on his face, I assumed he’d have been quite happy if she’d wanted to keep kicking their attacker.
    “How many were there?” I asked no one in particular.
    “Just him and another bloke,” another man said.
    “Okay, well there’s a third, so everyone stay here. I don’t want to give him a chance to use you against me. You’ll be home soon.”
    “Is he going to die?” a young woman asked, nodding at the void.
    “If he sees a doctor soon, then no, probably not. If anyone wants to ensure he lives longer, put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. Personally, I’d let him bleed a little.”
    The young woman nodded and I looked over at where the spare gun had landed to see it in the hands of a big bloke who had military-looking tattoos on his arms. “You know how to use that?” I asked.
    “Ten years in the army, so, yes. You want some backup?”
    “You don’t want to help out there, mate,” I said, handing him one of the magazines in my pocket. “Just keep these people safe. If the guy who is currently bleeding out makes a move, or if his friend turns up, take them down. Don’t hesitate. Because they won’t.”
    He nodded once.
    “I’ll be back soon,” I told everyone and strolled out of the shop, as the unmistakable battle cry of a griffin sounded out through West Quay.

    The griffin was standing about fifty meters away from me, next to the kiosk he’d destroyed with his hissy fit in the shop earlier. He immediately saw the gun as I got closer, and his forehead wrinkled in what passed for humor in a griffin.
    “Do you really think that thing is going to hurt me?”
    I shrugged. “I’m almost certain you’re not bulletproof.”
    He banged his fist against his armor-plated chest. “Never going to get through here.”
    I ejected the magazine. Six bullets, and a full magazine in my pocket. I really shouldn’t have given most of the bullets to the soldier, but the griffin was right, the gun wasn’t going to get the job done. A kill shot would need to take his head or heart. And griffins were too fast and too dangerous for me to rely on bullets. Even so, it would be rude not to try. I fired five bullets in the griffin’s direction, scoring two direct hits to his breastplate, while he used his spear to deflect the other three.
    The griffin launched himself up into the air and then immediately dove down toward me, his deadly spear at the ready.
    Griffins can’t be hurt by magical attacks. It’s one of the main reasons they’re used as guards at Tartarus. If I wanted to even injure my attacker, I needed a bladed weapon, or an explosive device. Neither of which are exactly in abundance in British shopping centers. But that didn’t mean I was helpless.
    I created a column of air that slammed up into the griffin, driving him back with a shriek of rage. The magic couldn’t hurt him, but it put him off balance for a moment until he threw a knife at me. I dodged aside, removing the column of air for an instant, giving him a chance to fly toward me once more. This time I stood my ground until the last