As soon as the first shot fired, I moved on instinct. There was no time to think. I raced towards Jess, shoving Victoria to one side, ignoring the look of rage and fear on her face. Four men with rifles trained on me spun their attention to Major Wilson’s strike force.

I saw claws, fangs, wings and fury pitted against guns, soldiers and fists.

Blood and bullets and death ensued as the supernaturals tore into the soldiers. I heard automatic rifles firing into the freezing night and the gurgling screams of men and women as they died.

The demons and angels struck hard and fast, tearing through the soldiers like confetti. The werewolves unleashed their fury, ignoring the bullets that spat at them. A single-minded goal for all of them: Reach Vincent Pryce and the portal.

I couldn’t see Alice anywhere.

Two of the demons broke off from the main attack and ran towards us, preferring to focus on exacting revenge on Victoria Pryce than stopping Vincent. They were greeted with a hail of bullets as they ripped through the soldiers and failed to reach their goal. They fell to the ground, dead. Victoria shouted commands at the soldiers, ordering them to protect her and her brother.

The troll was the first to reach Vincent Pryce and the portal. She raced towards the warlock, grabbing a soldier as she did so. She swung the hapless soldier like a puppet at Vincent, who laughed as the soldier screamed. A burst of energy leapt from Vincent’s hands and the troll fell to the ground, turned to stone. The soldier scrabbled away from the power-mad warlock and ran.

Chaos and fear reined. At least a quarter of the soldiers decided that running away was the best option. Some of them even managed to make it.

From behind the vicious melee, shots were fired. Major Wilson was methodically taking out the soldiers that threatened the group headed for Vincent. Faced with the onslaught of horrors, more of the soldiers abandoned their weapons and ran as far and as fast as they could.

Howls of triumph and despair and pain rang through the night.

I caught glimpses, snapshots of the mayhem and death as I focused on my mission: Protecting Jess.

“Run!” I shouted to Jess.

We ran as the sound of gunfire erupted all around us. The nearest cover was a van parked on the road thirty metres away. Bullets spat at my heels, one grazed my arm. I pushed Jess in front of me, shielding her with my body. We reached the van and flung ourselves behind it. Gunfire clattered against the side. I threw myself on top of Jess. More screams and gunshots. The hideous sounds of a massacre, but who were the killers and who were the victims was another question.

“Stay down,” I whispered to Jess.

I jumped back up. A soldier had chased after us, the others too concerned with the chaos that had erupted all around them. I knocked the rifle from his hands as the muzzle appeared around the edge of the van, grabbing the barrel and smacking him in the face with the stock. As the soldier fell to the ground, I threw the gun to one side.

I peered around the van to see a portrait of hell.

Limbs separated from bodies. Bullets exploding in sprays of blood. The angels, werewolves and demons attacking Vincent, who lashed out at them with bolts of power sucked straight from the magical dimension.

One of the angels grabbed a fallen soldier’s assault rifle and fired at Vincent. The bullets appeared to have no effect. Vincent cackled, and then he began to grow. Seven feet, eight feet, ten, twelve, fifteen. Two of the angels launched into the air on their feeble wings, their hands becoming talons. Vincent swatted the angels away as they dived at him, hit them with bolts of power that sent them spinning away, but all the power he was using was draining the magical shield around him.

A werewolf launched itself at his giant midriff, and Vincent staggered backwards as claws tore through his flesh. He screamed in pain, and the werewolf burst into flames.

Vincent placed a hand on his stomach, healing the wound, but the pain had broken his concentration. The energy stopped spewing out of the portal and into him. The monsters he was being attacked by had gone from a minor nuisance, flies to be swatted, to a serious problem. An angel slashed her claws across Vincent’s face.

Victoria screamed in horror as the inevitable became clear. He placed a hand to his cheek, healing the wound again, but he was shrinking back to his normal size. He reached a hand to the portal behind him, desperate to absorb more power.

Balthazar grabbed Vincent’s arm.

And tore it off.

Vincent staggered, placed a hand on the stump of his shoulder as blood sprayed out from it. He roared in pain, the surrounding shield gone, his body returned to his normal size, fear in his eyes as the monsters prepared to tear him to pieces. He desperately absorbed more energy from the portal, flung Balthazar back as his arm regrew, a hand emerging from the stump. His body glowed again as the energy raced into him.

He started to put up a new barrier around himself, but it was too late.

A single shot rang out from the stones at the Southern Entrance. Major Wilson.

Vincent’s head snapped back, and he fell to the ground.

All the magic in the world couldn’t save him from a clean headshot.

The light coming from the standing stones crackled; the portal was closing. Balthazar, the surviving three demons, two angels and a werewolf moved fast. With whoops and howls, they leapt through the portal, making it to Arcadia, and safety.

Balthazar paused for a split second, turned to look at me. I saw his mouth moving and despite the distance heard his voices, all half a dozen of them, as if he was standing right next to me.

“See you around, kid,” he said.

Then he followed the other supernaturals through.

At the last minute, as the portal collapsed, George hurried across the body-strewn field.

“Wait for me!” he shouted.

The goblin dived through the narrow opening at the last second before it closed. George yelped as the portal snapped shut on the tip of his tail, chopping off a centimetre that didn’t make it to the other side.

The portal vanished, leaving the survivors of Victoria’s prison safely on the other side.

They were free from Victoria Pryce at long last, and in a place where Section 13 could never reach them.

I saw Victoria as her remaining three soldiers bundled her into a helicopter.

She glared at me, her face a mask of rage. Her twin brother was dead, her plans thwarted. The person she blamed was close enough to kill, but she had to leave. Her eyes locked on mine.

Her finger pointed at me in unbridled fury.

And then it was over. Victoria was flown away. The battle was finished. The portal was gone, the warlock was dead.

Major Wilson stood thirty odd metres away. He lifted his assault rifle, satisfied.

He paused, his hands still on the gun as he glanced across at me. Considered.

He nodded once. A quick, curt gesture.

Then he turned around and walked away, into the night.