Whitmarsh’s car stopped at the lights.  Ess felt her stomach lurch as a bus passed the junction, but she kept her foot on the gas.  The old London cliché rang in her head.  You wait for an hour for a bus, then three come at once.  It was a joke, it didn’t really happen.  Not at this time of night, anyway.  Please don’t let it really happen.
 
The van smashed into the back of the car.  Ess expected some sort of slow motion experience, like you saw in films, glass fragments floating dreamily through the air as the vehicle panels crumpled like Sunday morning’s duvet.  In fact it was over as soon as it began.  One moment she was hurtling towards Whitmarsh, the next the van stood in the middle of the road, the echoes of the impact resounding from the shop fronts and the stalled engine arhythmically pinging as it cooled.  Whitmarsh’s car stood in front of her, skewed to the right, the boot of the BMW considerably shorter than the manufacturer intended.
 
Whitmarsh!  Ess fought her seat belt free and jumped from the cab.  Whitmarsh slumped over the wheel, conscious but stunned.  Ess grabbed at the rear passenger door and wrenched it open.  It was the spur Whitmarsh needed.  He pushed open his door and stumbled into the road.
 
“Jesus, what the –“  He stopped as Ess’ face finally registered on his brain.  Ess thrust a hand in her jacket pocket.  The little jemmy wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all she had.  She whipped her hand out and high above her head, ready to strike.  For a fraction of a second Whitmarsh’s expression changed from anger to puzzlement.  Ess glanced up.  In her hand, the jemmy looked remarkably like the bag of herbal tea Shades had packed.  As Whitmarsh dived forward she brought it down anyway.  The bag burst in Whitmarsh’s face.  Whitmarsh grabbed Ess by the throat, then suddenly screamed, releasing her to claw at his face.
 
Ess might not be the leader of a coven or the most versed in Celtic magic, but no one brewed a herbal potion like her.  Her pick-me-up had a mix of anti-oxidants, rejuvenating herbs and natural flavourings.  Amongst other things, it also had generous amounts of ginger, capsicum and peppers.  It was no steel bar, but at that moment she bet Whitmarsh would have chosen a crowbar over the spice that filled his eyes.  She kicked out, putting Whitmarsh on his arse against the car.
 
Above the shops lights were coming on.  To the left a car sped along the road.  Time to move.  She stuck her head into the back of the car.  Daisy cowered away from her.
 
“Daisy.  It’s me.  Remember?  I’m here to rescue you.”  Ess held out her hand.
 
Somewhere a door opened.  The engine of the approaching car grew louder.  In moments the junction would be full of concerned citizens offering help and hoping to gawk at spilled blood.
 
“We have to move.  Make up your mind.  Now!”
 
Daisy made up her mind.  She shuffled along the seat, her hands held awkwardly behind her.  Ess grabbed her elbow and pulled.  She heard the other car squeal to a stop and a car door open.  Ess jerked Daisy out of the car and took an abortive step towards the van.  She didn’t need to be a mechanic to see that the van had participated in its last kidnaping adventure.
 
Footsteps behind her.  Ess let go of Daisy and whirled round, swinging her fist even as she did so.
 
“Ow” shouted Oz.  “Is that any way to greet your knight in shining armour?”
 
“Oz!  Thank the Mother.  We’ve got to get out of here.”
 
“Okay.  To the Ozmobile.”
 
“Oh, wait.  Shades.”
 
“Shades?”
 
“He’s in the van.”
 
“What’s he doing in there?”
 
“Sleeping.”  She saw his confused expression.  “She did it.  Daisy.  Like they did to you.”
 
Any suggestion of banter dropped from his face.  “Get her in the car.  I’ll deal with Shades.”
 
Ess grabbed Daisy’s arm and hustled the unresisting girl towards the car.
 
“You all right?”
 
A middle-aged man, jeans pulled over pyjamas, came running up.
 
“Over here, old son,” called Oz as Ess tried to keep Daisy’s handcuffed wrists angled away from the Samaritan.  As he hurried over to the van Ess corralled Daisy into the car.
 
“Is every night like this with him?” asked Dot from the front passenger seat.
 
“No.  I think you’re a calming influence,” replied Ess, strapping Daisy in to the back.  As she straightened Oz and the local appeared from behind the van, Oz carrying Shades under the armpits, whilst the stranger did the same at Shades’ feet.  Ess sprinted to the other side of the car and held the door open.
 
“You think that’s best?” asked the stranger, hovering over Oz and Ess as they manhandled Shades into the seat next to Daisy.
 
“Yes.  I’m a first-aider, trust me,” said Oz, bundling Ess into the cramped back.  Behind the Samaritan Whitmarsh pulled himself up his car, eyes swollen and streaming.  “Every second counts, and it’s be ages before the ambulance arrives.  Do us a favour.  Just look after the other driver and we’ll whisk these off to hospital.”
 
With that he jumped into the car, slammed the door shut and with a cheery wave he gunned the engine.
 
“See what happens when you try and do things without me?” he said, swinging the car into another street in a scream of tyres.  “Five minutes alone and you end up on the run from the Old Bill.  I always knew you were a bad influence.  Where to?  Peter the Painter?”
 
“Take these off me!” said Daisy.
 
Ess was getting used to the voice now she recognised it, and her hands hardly twitched.  Oz, however, immediately pulled over.
 
“Oz, what are you doing?” asked Ess.
 
“Got to get those handcuffs off the poor girl.”  He manipulated his bulk out of the car.  Ess leant past the unconscious form of Shades.
 
“Daisy, hon, you don’t have to keep doing that.  We’re here to help you.  We’ve been looking for you for days.  We’re going to get you straight back to your father.  You don’t have to keep putting spells on us.”
 
Oz opened the back door.  “Let the dog see the rabbit then.”
 
Daisy turned to offer her wrists, glaring at Ess.
 
“Oh, these are amateur things.  I’ll have those off in a jiffy.  I just need pin or paperclip or something.  Ladies?”
 
“Will a matchstick do?”  Dot fished in her bag and produced a box of matches.  She twisted round in her seat and watched as Oz poked at the cuffs.  “I didn’t know you were an expert lock-picker.”
 
“Never get yourself into a situation you can’t get out of.  There’s one.  Hold on a tick.  What if a young lady had a heart attack in flagrante and I was manacled to the bed?  Besides, these are hardly more than toys, not proper police cuffs at all.  There!”
 
He stood, handcuffs dangling from a finger.  Daisy winced as she brought her hands round and massaged her wrists.
 
“Marvellous,” said Ess.  “But we’re still only a couple of blocks from the scene of the crime.  Any chance we could bugger off now?”
 
“Buggering off at your command.”  Oz threw a salute and climbed back into the driver’s seat.  “Where to?”
 
“Home,” said Daisy.  “My family.  Now.”  It was haughty and sullen, but at least it was delivered in an ordinary voice.
 
“Regent’s Park?  Righty-ho.”  Oz pulled out into the deserted streets once more.
 
“Daisy?”  Ess leant around Shades again.  “Listen, we’re taking you right home.  Oz will drive as close as we can, then I’ll walk you the rest of the way, all the way home, just like your father told me to.  But my friend –“  She jerked her head at Shades.  Daisy continued to stare at her.  “I need you to reverse what you did to him.  Please.  Whitmarsh is an evil bastard, but we’re not all like that.  Shades, he’s definitely not.  He gave up his job to help rescue you.  He was injured trying to help you.”
 
Daisy continued to stare, her face betraying no sympathy.  Oz caught Ess’ eye in the mirror and raised his eyebrows.
 
“Look, we’re going to take you home regardless.  Oz isn’t going to stop till we get there.  I’m not going to make you.  I’m not bargaining.  You’ve had a shitty deal and we’re going to put it right.  I’m just asking.  Please, take your spell off him.”
 
Daisy turned away and stared out at the dark streets speeding by.
 
Ess sat back and closed her eyes.  She wasn’t going to cry.  She hated when women tried to get their own way like that.  The lump in her throat wasn’t tears, it was anger.  She couldn’t really blame Daisy.  She’d been kept prisoner, chained up while Whitmarsh harvested dust.  Who could blame her for resenting humans?  But Ess wanted to blame someone.  She’d ask the sisters.  Someone must know how to reverse the spell.  Dorothy, perhaps, even though that would mean Ess demeaning herself in front of her old mentor.  And she would get even with Whitmarsh.  It was all his fault.  She didn’t know how, but she was going to make his life a misery.
 
“We’re here,” said Oz, mounting the kerb and jerking to a stop.
 
Oz, Ess and Daisy stepped out of the car.
 
“You know your way from here?” said Oz.
 
“It’s okay,” said Ess.  “I’m going with her.”
 
“Are you sure?  I mean, last time wasn’t exactly a picnic.”
 
“I told her dad I would.”
 
“Yes, but she’s a big girl, besides, - ”  He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head at Daisy.  “You know.  What we talked about.  Sleeping, disappearing, that sort of thing?”
 
“Someone from our side has to show them we’ve got some honour, that Whitmarsh is a grade one bastard, but he’s an exception.”  She turned to Daisy.  “Right?”
 
Daisy stared back, her face unreadable.  Then she turned, leant into the back of the car and muttered something.
 
“Thanks,” said Ess, when Daisy straightened and faced her.  Daisy nodded and strode out into the park.
 
“I’ll wait here for you, then,” said Oz.
 
“Too bloody right you will,” called Ess as she hurried after her.  “Or I’ll come back and kick your arse all the way from here to Brighton.”