They rowed along the cliff, Clifftown disappearing into the spray. At times Trix wondered if they were actually moving. They floated in the mist, the sea on their left stretched out, calm and flat. The cliff on their right rose up,unchanging, unending.

They arrived at it's end. The cliff turned, moving inland, They found themselves rowing along a fractal coast, outcroppings separating sheltered bays, tiny sandy beaches, cliffs that had been worn by the sea into lumpy stumps. The sand was black at first, then faded into grey as they moved away from the cliff, then pure white. Further inland, a line of green suggested plants.

They took turns rowing, Wilbur doing more than his fair share. When they were sure they weren't being followed, they stopped in a shallow bay surrounded by low cliffs. A sand bar cut it off from the sea and they had to get out of the boat and drag it across. The circle of calm water flicked with small fish. They beached the boat on the sand.

Jeremiah wanted to rest here for a few days while deciding what to do next. He needed time to recover and think, he said. He had an idea, but needed to work on the details before he knew where to go next.

Trix left the others: Jeremiah sitting and writing in the sand with a stick. Wilbur, laid out with his feet in the water, resting. Dean and Emma, working together to flip the boat on its side — hoping to make a useless shelter from the non-existent rain and wind. She explored the cove alone, picking up driftwood as she walked, tucking it under one arm. A cut in the rocks led up through the cliffs in a winding path. It opened out onto a carpet of green. Moss grew in every crevice of the rock beyond, long tendrils spreading out to form a dense web. Here and there small flowers poked up. A hum of insects filled the air. Trix sat on a rock and closed her eyes, listening to the crash of the waves, the hum of life, letting the salt air fill her nostrils. Only the lack of a sea breeze stopped her from believing she was at the seaside back home.

The next day Jeremiah found Trix fishing in the cove. Salome was sat on a rock nearby, her eyes closed. Jeremiah glared at Salome, then sat down on the sand awkwardly, trying to get comfortable on his one leg, finally deciding to lay on his side, propped up on one elbow.

"I've got a bit of an idea, I think" he said. "Yes, I think it should work. Oh! And I need a favour from you."

Trix looked at him silently, sweeping her pole back and forth to attract some fish to her hook.

"Demon cat, go away!" Jeremiah said to the cat, and shooed it with his hand. Salome ignored him.

"Trix, can we go somewhere else to...oh forget it actually, I can't be bothered to get back up now. Yes, anyway. Let me explain. There are bits missing of course, the calculations are only very rough at this stage, and I only have vague estimates as to the relative powers needed, extrapolating from experience -- but I believe we might be able to go back up, back to earth."

Trix put down her fishing rod. "Ok, I'm listening. How?"

"So: if you think of the worlds as having a height, with Earth quite high up, and the other worlds higher or lower, and Hell right at the bottom, you can see that it is easy for things to fall down here, it takes very little energy, just what you need to open the hole."

"That makes sense. So bits of all these different worlds seem to end up here. That's bad for us."

"Yes, it means that we would need a huge amount of energy to go back, uh, 'up', not to mention we need to open a hole to the right place, so we don't just take the course of least resistance and end up reappearing elsewhere on hell."

"I'm becoming less and less hopeful the more you talk, Jeremiah."

"Of course, yes. I'm not surprised. However -- and I'm basing this on my past reading about travel blood rituals used on earth by demonic beings -- these things tend to be like one-way-doors, once the door is open, you can slip through in the other direction without needing to spend quite so much energy yourself, and your return path will mirror the arrival path, so you should pop out in the right place."

"So we wait for someone else to come here from earth, and go back up then?"

"Yes, exactly! That was my thought. I mean, in theory, but that doesn't work, because as far as I know, there is no way of detecting the arrival of something from earth ahead of time. We still need to solve that problem. And! We still need a huge amount of energy to head back up, even with the door already swung wide open — so it doesn't quite work. What do you think? I hoped that explaining it to someone else might give me some fresh ideas."

Salome opened her eyes and coughed dramatically before Trix could reply: "Of course there is an obvious solution to your problem. You come here, and speak in front of me, pretending to wish the advice of this delightful but ignorant young girl, yet in truth were you not hoping that I would overhear? That I might offer up some of my many centuries of wisdom, like a mother eagle, regurgitating precious food into the mouths of her babe? Yes, yes, the solution is simple, I am shocked that even you would not have seen it, in fact."

Jeremiah waved his hand in the air "You are wrong about my intentions, but please, enlighten us."

"It is unnecessary and foolish to wait for a chance arrival from Earth, of course you cannot predict it, and even if you could, you might need to wait years for such an invent, no: you simply pull something down to hell yourself, at a time and place of your own choosing."

"And what do we pull? And how do we target it? And what of the power necessary to travel back to earth? Of course I considered this course of action, but mechanics make it all but impossible — and don't bother demanding that I free you from your cat form, with promises of power in exchange. I can't, and I won't, and even if I could, and did, you still wouldn't be powerful enough to push five people back to earth."

Salome sighed. "Five people, and one cat, do not forget the cat. Obviously, since we are bringing something from earth, we should choose something useful: We banish a potent source of power right to ourselves. We pull down a vessel of demon blood, wrapped in skin, hot and fresh and fizzing with energy: we grab a demon prince from his reveries on earth, and sacrifice him to our safe return home, yes, yes! We pluck that ripe thing and pull him to us, to be pricked and squeezed for his juices..."

Jeremiah sat quietly, thinking. "And what of targeting?"

"Once the ritual is begun, this should be simple for me. Trivial. On earth, I used feel their presence at all times, like a tickle in my ear. I will be able to target the ritual at the demon prince in question."

"Yes, it makes some sense." said Jeremiah, solemnly.

Trix turned to look at the cat. "So you're saying, we transport a demon prince, a creature of great power, who will be furious at the attack, to our own location, then we use it somehow to power a ritual, against its will? So, suicide?"

"Of course we must kill it on arrival." said Salome. "Spilling its rich blood over our carefully prepared markings, lending its power to our cause. This is good, noble. This is the old way. This is true demon magic: blood and death and scintillating power, not porcelain and books and the mumbling of spells!"

Jeremiah shook his head, "but why would you help us, demon. Why sacrifice one of your own for us?"

Salome laughed. "Why? Because I am coming with you! Do you all assume that I wish to stay here, on this refuse-pile of a world? I desire to leave as much as you do. This is all to our mutual benefit. Also, I have a requirement: that it be my father who we kill. He sent me here, after all, it is only fair that he come join us."

The cat stood, arching its back and stretching. "Think on it, human." then she dropped silently to the sand and sidled back to the camp.

"Do you think it could work?" said Trix.

"Hmm...what? Yes. I think so" said Jeremiah.

"Good. What's the favour?"

"What? Favour?"

"You said you wanted a favour from me earlier, Jeremiah. What was it?"

"Oh, that. Yes. Of course. I need your help finding a library."

Trix looked around doubtfully. "I'm not sure there is one."

"Nonsense, of course there is, there must be. Mad Father Dafydd talks about it at length in his poem. Anyway, how could the inhabitants of such a place not compile knowledge of ritual magic?"

"Mad Father Dafydd? That doesn't sound like a reliable source."

"Quite mad, but very reliable. Yes, we need a library, but I could do with some help, with the scrying. I was hoping you would lend a hand."

"You mean magic? I can't scry. I just get occasional glimpses of insight, nothing else. According to Salome my 'demon blood is awakening'. Is she right? Is that why we can do magic, you and I?"

"Regardless of the source, the power is there, I can help you learn to direct it, very easy. We will begin learning today — oh and you will need an orb. We will both need orbs for focusing."

"The porcelain thing?"

"Well perhaps not porcelain orbs, given what we have to work with." he looked around the beach, "Yours will be an orb of salt, blood and sand, I fear."