Dawn of the Demontide by William Hussey

him. He whispered the name over and over. Why should this place share the same name as a scientific institute? An institute whose real work was the destruction of demonkind. More troubling still was the fact that, due to the weapon’s failure, it looked as if a sacrifice was needed to stop the Demontide. Jake grimaced—it was pretty obvious who that sacrifice was going to be …
    Twenty minutes of furious pedalling brought Jake to a huge iron gate. The rear entrance to Green Gables, Dr Holmwood’s manor house. The black eye of a security camera glinted down at him. In a flash, he snatched the spray paint from his rucksack and blinded the lens. Then he straightened out the wire coat hanger and threw it at the gate. Sparks crackled between the bars. As he suspected: electrified. He picked up the scorched wire and tucked it back into his rucksack.
    Jake hid his bike in the undergrowth and slipped down the bank. Attached to the gate was a chain-link fence, about four metres high and topped with barbed wire. Jake followed it all the way through the forest. He had expected the fence to end at the river’s edge, but it plunged into the water and stretched out quite a distance from the shore. He took off his shoes and tied the laces around the straps of his backpack. Then he stepped into the icy water. Hissing through his teeth, he waded forward. Reeds caught at his legs as if they were another part of Dr Holmwood’s security cordon. When the water had reached his chin, he kicked off from the bottom and swam the last few metres around the end of the fence.
    He had begun to make his way back to the shore when he saw a light track across the water. A man in uniform appeared from between the trees and spoke into his fist.
    ‘I’m at the south perimeter, no sign of an intruder. I’ll go and check the camera. Probably just short-circuited or something.’
    A voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.
    ‘Come back to the hut first. I’ll walk down to the gate with you and we’ll take one of the dogs. If there is someone in the grounds, it could be dangerous. Remember what Dr Holmwood says about the enemies of the Institute.’
    ‘Spook stories,’ the guard laughed. ‘You know, for a clever guy, I think the doc’s got a few bats in the belfry. But OK, I’m on my way. Shuck needs a run anyway.’
    Shuck. In the ancient legends of the eastern counties of England, Black Shuck was the name of a hellhound. That didn’t sound good.
    Jake swam quickly to the shore and scrambled up the bank. Teeth chattering, he pulled on his soggy trainers. The backpack had half filled with river water which Jake now emptied out onto the ground. Green Gables was a ten minute walk through the woods. Jake set off, and was under the shadow of the house before three minutes had elapsed. The run helped him warm up.
    Silhouettes moved across the window of the security guard’s hut. The small wooden building stood by itself, a stone’s throw from the main house. Two dirt bikes with helmets on their saddles rested against the hut wall. A fenced-in dog run was attached to the hut, kennels at the rear. Leashes with empty collars hung from the kennel roofs. Jake gulped. There was no sign of the dogs.
    The hut door swung open and Brett, the guard from the Institute, strode out.
    ‘Come on, Shuck.’
    A large, elegant Doberman trotted out of the hut. Brett fitted a leash around its neck and its ears pricked up on either side of its head like two demonic horns. Jake waited until the men and the dog had disappeared from view. Then he made a dash for the hut.
    Brett had locked the door behind him. It appeared to be a simple catch. Jake took the wire coat hanger from his bag and slotted it between the door and the jamb. With a little jiggling, the catch flipped and he was inside.
    A bank of monitors marked Driveway , Forecourt , Rose Garden , Main Hall , Cellar , Woodland Path stood along one wall. The screen labelled Rear Gate was blank. Jake watched as Brett,