Wainwright ducked as the wraith leapt at him, slashing upwards with his blade blindly. It shrieked, but continued towards Leopold who stood aghast and tried to fire point blank. The shot flew wide, and the full force of the wraith drive the merchant off his feet and back into a paper wall. It crashed backwards and he rolled into a dishevelled heap.

“Run!”

The leading man turned and bit his tongue. The wraith composed itself and floating slowly over Leopold. It descended, claws raking and tendrils of shadow flailing wildly.

“By grace and virtue, water, come to my aid. Rain torrents upon this stage and wash away it’s sins!” Fists clenched, Wainwright punched the sky and a rumble shook the planks loose from their supports.

The curtains on the right side of the stage blew open as wind rolled across the square. Water poured out of every nook and cranny, crashing through the pillars like a waterfall and washing over Leopold with crushing force. It clipped the wraith and dragged it under, washing it, and all the props out onto the right side of the stage in a calamitous mess. Debris clattered out onto the cobbles of the square, soaking Wainwright’s boots and mingling with the piss and ale and bodies.

“Leopold!” He watched the subsiding waters nervously. “Leopold!”

A top hat appeared from behind a nest of plans and brooms, and the merchant rose, soaked to the core with his pistol still in his hand. He looked at Wainwright with begrudging thanks, and trudged over to the front of the stage.

“Did you have to go quite so far?” He spat water and took off his hat. He shook it and put it bac on his head eschew.

“It was that or have your soul torn from your body.”

“Well, yeah…” He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Is it dead?”

“I doubt it. But it’ll weaken it enough for us to make our escape.”

Leopold looked back with a surprised expression. “Escape? It’s not like you to run from your fifteen minutes.” He emptied his clip and tossed the bullets aside. He reloaded it from his pouch, the shells kept dry by the proofed leather.

“We helped give people chance to flee, and this isn’t a fight we can win.”

To prove his point, two shrill cries filled the dark square behind them and when they turned they caught a glimpse of Duffy in a dervish war with the remaining wraiths. Flashes of light marked the clashing of swords against claws, and a distant melody pierced the tense silence.

“He’s learnt how to show off from you, that lad.”

Wainwright chuckled.

“I’ll have words.” He approached the edge of the stage and leapt off. He bent his knees to brace against the fall and looked up to Leopold expectantly. “Let’s take his lead, shall we?”

Leopold rolled his eyes and followed, his heavier frame jolting his back and shedding a litre of flood water onto the cobbles as he fell. He took to a slow jog behind Wainwright, who unsheathed his longsword as the use of his magic took a heavy toll on his concentration and his strength.

“Can’t let you have all the fun scamp!”

Duffy caught a glimpse of two shadows turning into friends and sighed, ducking and weaving around the wraiths trying to slit his throat. The wind on his heels gave him freedom to backflip and twirl and keep himself out of harm’s reach, but even his youthful exuberance began to waver.

“Took your damned time.”

The closer wraith reared up and approached the newcomers in a low arch, stopping Leopold and Wainwright in their tracks. Three bullets ploughed into its chest as the longsword in Wainwright’s hand burst into flames with a single command. The scent of lavender and pine filled the air and drowned out the cloying scent of death.