Shavi smiled. ‘I think you are being harsh on yourself. And I think you are presenting a certain face to the world to hide the truth. You fear people will think the worst of you so you try to show them that aspect to prevent your disappointment.’
‘You don’t know anything, pretty boy. You think you do, but you really, really don’t.’ She changed the subject with a dismissive gesture. ‘So there’s supposed to be five of us, right? The magic number. Five Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. There’s you and me—’
‘Ruth Gallagher must be one, the other name on the stone.’
‘That’s only three. Who’s this “Church” who left the stone for us? He must have been around a long time ago if the ground wasn’t disturbed, as you said.’
‘I do not know. Now we must find Ruth.’
‘How? There must be about eight million old folks’ homes in South London. You reckon we should knock on every door?’
‘I have an idea I would like to try.’ Shavi’s statement was simple, but it carried a weight of apprehension.
‘Do you ever get the feeling that your life’s not real?’ Laura said thoughtfully.
The concept troubled Shavi to a degree that he couldn’t understand, but he knew exactly what she meant. ‘I feel as if I am playing a part.’
‘That’s it. It’s as though it’s all fake – memories and everything. I can remember my parents, but there’s none of that real detail you should have. It’s like I know they’re my parents, but that’s all. And they don’t feel as if they really are. They’re like actors playing a part.’ She paused, troubled. ‘How weird is that?’
The Bone Inspector came up so silently that Laura jumped. He held out his hands to show six eggs. ‘Breakfast,’ he said. ‘Then we get down to business.’
3
Forty minutes later on the edge of the graveyard, Shavi sat alone, listening to the birdsong, the wind stirring the branches of the trees, trying to still his rapidly beating heart. Laura and the Bone Inspector had retreated, bickering, to the van to give him his meditative space.
He breathed in, breathed out, tried to attune himself to the rhythms of nature as he had done in his flat after his long, hard days at the office. He expected it to take a long time, if it happened at all, but within minutes he was surprised to find himself slipping into a trance state. The waking world receded and soon there was only the soft thrum of blood in his head. He concentrated on what he wanted to achieve.
Time appeared to hang. It could have been minutes or hours when a faint fizzing arose accompanied by the smell of burned iron. The air was bubbling and spitting like molten metal. Shavi forced himself to stay calm. A gap the size of a porthole opened up in the seething air, and then a hand snaked out, followed by another. The spirit-form hauled itself through until it hung out from the waist up. It was the same almost featureless thing that had manifested in his office.
It mewled in pain, then said, ‘You have called me from the Invisible World again, Brother of Dragons, forced me to endure the suffering of this world. Do you have a question for me this time, or do you merely wish to exhibit your cruelty?’
‘I have three questions,’ Shavi said. The Bone Inspector had told Shavi that as a seer he should be able to communicate with the ‘Others’, but Shavi hadn’t understood the meaning of the statement until that moment.
‘Then speak them, Dragon-Brother, but know this: there is a price to pay for the answers you seek.’
‘What price?’
‘A small thing.’
‘You must tell me first.’
‘No, you must agree to the contract first. That is the way these things are done.’
Shavi knew it was stupid to agree in advance, but he could see no other alternative; there was too much at stake. ‘A small thing?’ he asked.
‘A small thing.’
‘Then I agree.’
The spirit-form made an unpleasant smacking noise and said, ‘Then ask, Brother of Dragons, and may the knowledge benefit you as much as you hope.’
Shavi took a deep breath. Then: ‘Where, exactly, is Ruth Gallagher, Sister of Dragons?’
‘Not a good question, Brother of Dragons. Ruth Gallagher is exactly in the Fixed Lands. She is exactly within a day’s flight from this place. But with respect to you, I will offer the answer you require this time. Ruth Gallagher spends her days in labour next to the river, near a bridge.’
Shavi decided the information was good enough for him to find her. For the second question, he strove to choose his words more cleverly. ‘I know there are supposed to be five Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. Ruth, Laura and myself make three. Who are the other two?’
‘Jack Churchill, known as Church, and Ryan Veitch.’
Shavi couldn’t understand how Church could be one of their group and also have buried the stone all those years ago, but he couldn’t risk asking. He had one more important thing to ask. ‘Where can I find the Fabulous Beasts?’
The spirit-form paused for so long that Shavi thought it was not going to answer. But finally it said, ‘There is only one Fabulous Beast left in this world. It remained behind in the hope that one day a voice would call out and waken it from its slumber.’
It fell silent. Shavi waited.
‘The Fabulous Beast sleeps beneath the Garden of Eden.’
Shavi continued to wait, but it was clear the spirit-form was not going to volunteer any more information. But that is meaningless … The Garden of Eden does not exist.’
‘I have answered your questions, Brother of Dragons, and now I demand my price.’
‘But—’
Shavi’s protestations died in his throat. The spirit-form rushed from the hole in the air with outstretched grasping hands.
4
The howl of pain echoed across the Abbey grounds. Laura and the Bone Inspector rushed across the graveyard to find Shavi sprawled on the grass. Laura turned him over. His hands were clutched to his face and when Laura pulled them away she recoiled in horror. Shavi’s left eye had been torn out leaving a blood-encrusted, gaping socket.
5
After detouring to a costume shop in East London, Shavi had a black leather eye patch covering the empty orbit. ‘Strangely, it no longer hurts,’ he said as he gingerly probed around his cheekbone.
‘Good. So you’re ready to answer some straight questions,’ Laura said sharply from the driver’s seat. ‘You gave up your eye on purpose? Just to get a few answers?’
‘I did not know that would be the price.’
‘Then you’re more of an idiot than I thought,’ the Bone Inspector growled. You think they’re going to take something that’s not important?’
Shavi was surprised by how hard Laura had taken his sacrifice. She had already gone through disbelief, tears and finally had arrived at a cold, hard anger that currently was directed at him.
‘I think the eye patch from the costume shop is quite dashing,’ he said in an attempt to defuse the tension. It didn’t work.
Laura pulled the van over with a screech of tyres. ‘Is this what it’s going to be like, then? You give up an eye. I donate an ovary. You lose a leg. I hack off an arm. Is that it? Because if it is, I don’t want it.’
‘The burger bar is better?’
‘Yes, it is. Let somebody else do this stuff. We can go back to having fun.’
‘There is no one else.’
‘You two shut up.’ The Bone Inspector glared at them. ‘Here’s how it is: you do this or the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders cuts you – and me – out of reality. Gone. Forgotten. Never existed.’ He turned to Shavi. ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’
Shavi nodded.
‘Now find this Ruth Gallagher and maybe you’ll make a bigger spark. And then you find the other two, and then maybe we’ll discover what’s happened to the world and what the Enemy wants.’
They’d already tried a number of care homes near London’s bridges after consulting the Yellow Pages and the A-Z. There was only one left.
6
Ruth felt as if she was waking from a long, deep sleep. Her mind was sluggish, but she was sure clarity lay just on the other side of the fog. Her dream of the owl-man had set something in motion, but she was not yet sure what it was or how it would turn out. The first manifestation of her new state was that she had called in sick to work, and the elation she felt when she put down the phone made her think she should give up her job completely. If she couldn’t afford the flat, she could always move out of the city.
Her phone rang. It was Rourke. ‘I just tried you at work—’
‘I called in sick.’
‘Is that wise?’
Ruth bristled. She wondered why she had put up with Rourke’s claustrophobic attentions for so long.
‘I thought I might drop round to see you,’ he continued.
‘No,’ she said firmly.
‘We could go for lunch?’
‘I’ve got things to do. I’ll call you later.’ Ruth hung up quickly. She realised that in the past he’d always managed to talk her round when she tried to hold him at bay. Was she really that weak?
A noise in the bedroom. Ruth felt a familiar shiver, but this time she didn’t shy away from it.
The bedroom was still. Her bedroom door was ajar. Before she could investigate further, she was drawn to the window by a magnetic sense that someone desperately needed to speak to her.
In the street outside stood the giant she’d encountered on the Underground. He was looking up at her window with an expression of abject concern. When he saw her, he motioned furiously for her to join him. Ruth was surprised to realise she felt no sense of threat. Away from the shadows of the Tube tunnel, the giant appeared benign. Every now and then he glanced from side to side. Ruth knew obliquely that he was watching for the spiders. At that moment, not really knowing why, she decided she would go to him.
The creak of the wardrobe door made her start. Ruth turned to see the door opening of its own accord.
Ruth was gripped by a terrible dread. As the eerie movement of the door halted, she looked inside the wardrobe and saw not her clothes, but a deep, sucking darkness. Within the folds of the impenetrable gloom, something lurked. Ruth felt the inescapable gravity of the presence, the weight of its malign intent. It hungered for her.
The darkness bulged from the doorway, gaining shape and form. Ruth just had time to turn back to the giant before whatever was behind caught hold of her. Fear came down like night. She gripped onto the curtains, but was dragged back inexorably. Her eyes locked onto the giant’s, and she saw fear in them, too: for her.
The darkness pulled her back, and back, until she was sucked into the depths of the wardrobe. She felt the presence close behind her, its breath on the back of her neck.
Ruth had time for one final scream and then the wardrobe door slammed shut.
7
‘She’s not there. I’ve got an address for her flat.’ Laura marched down the path from the care home, Shavi and the Bone Inspector hurrying in her wake.
‘They gave out her address?’ Shavi said.
‘Not exactly.’
Laura paused as she neared the van. Someone leaned jauntily against it: long, dark hair, a grinning, charismatic face.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Laura said.
‘Ryan Veitch,’ he replied. ‘Ring any bells?’
‘We were about to search for you,’ Shavi said.
‘And I’ve been searching for you.’
Veitch held out his hand. When Shavi took it he was surprised by the coldness of the grip.
‘Yeah,’ Veitch said. ‘I’m not all there.’ He held up his silver claw.
Shavi felt he should be remembering something, but it failed to surface.
‘See?’ Laura said bitterly. ‘I told you – he’s already lost a hand. Well, I’m too beautiful and sexy to give up any body parts.’
‘You’re right there, darlin’.’ Veitch held his arms wide and Laura gave him a tentative hug.
‘You don’t get any more until you get me drunk. I’m not a cheap date.’
‘How’d you find us?’ The Bone Inspector watched Veitch suspiciously.
Veitch tapped his nose. It’s a Brothers and Sisters of Dragons thing.’
‘We were looking for another of our group,’ Shavi said. ‘Ruth Gallagher?’
‘I know exactly where she is,’ Veitch said. ‘Come on – I’ll take you right to her.’
8
‘You don’t really expect me to get in there?’ Church stared with disgust into the ruby-red waters flowing out from under the Court of the Final Word.
‘I think you’re insane even to consider venturing inside. Given that, this is just a baby step.’ Tom smoked to make himself forget. He wouldn’t look in the direction of the court, which lay further along the valley floor.
‘It’s disgusting. I think I just saw some clots.’ The river gurgled and spat.
The sky was also the colour of an opened artery. The bloated red sun sinking behind the distant mountains cast the featureless landscape in hellish tones.
‘You’ve got time to turn back.’ Tom’s voice cracked, and Church glimpsed tears in his eyes.
‘You know I don’t have a choice—’
‘You always have a choice!’
‘Tom, this needs to be done. I have to reclaim the lamp. I need the strength it will give me to deal with what lies ahead. And if the gods in there are as bad as you say, we can’t leave the Pendragon Spirit in their hands.’
Tom finished his smoke and stamped the butt underfoot. ‘Don’t forget, the one you need to watch out for is Dian Cecht. It’s his court.’
‘In the old stories he was the god of healing, right?’
Tom laughed bitterly.
‘I thought he was in charge of some kind of spring that restored dying gods to life.’
‘A metaphor,’ Tom said. ‘But you’ll find all that out when you’re in there. Just watch your back. Never relax your guard, not even for a moment. The court is vast, but sparsely populated. With any luck you stand a … reasonable chance …’ His voice faltered at the lie in his words. ‘Just take care.’
Tom walked away before Church could respond. Church called goodbye, but Tom did not turn or even acknowledge Church’s presence.
Church looked one last time at the gleaming white marble of the Court of the Final Word caught between the bloody landscape and the bloody sky and then he stepped into the red river.
It was warmer than he had anticipated and had the sickening consistency of oil. The butcher’s shop smell made him gag. Keeping as close to the bank as he could, he waded towards the court.
It took him fifteen minutes to reach the complex. The river emerged from the dark mouth of a culvert under the external wall. Church mentally prepared himself for what lay ahead and then plunged into the shadows.
It was warmer still in the enclosed space. Through the walls Church could hear a deep throbbing that sounded like machinery. There were other noises, too – sharp staccato bursts and the crackle of energy discharges, along with others that Church didn’t want to consider.
As he progressed slowly in the dark, trailing one hand along the sticky wall, he felt the movement of swimming creatures brush his legs and wondered what could survive in that foul stew.
When he thought his stomach could bear no more of the gruesome atmosphere, he saw a shaft of light ahead. Positioning himself beneath it, he looked up at a grille at the top of a short shaft in the roof – some kind of drain for sluicing down the detritus from the room above. An iron ladder ran down the wall of the drain, for cleaning, probably. Standing on his tiptoes, Church could just reach the lowest rung. He hauled himself up and began to climb until he heard muffled voices in the room above. He clung to the ladder and waited, glad to be out of the river.
After five minutes, footste
ps approached the drain. Church held his breath and looked up at the grille. But instead of seeing the occupant he was suddenly deluged with hot, sticky liquid, rushing across his face and drenching what little of him remained dry after the journey along the river. It was only when the torrent stopped a minute later that Church realised it was blood.
Fighting the urge to be sick, he held on, dripping, eyes shut tight. No more sounds came from the room and he decided to continue. He pushed upwards against the grille and it raised easily.
The chamber was empty. It was about twenty-one feet square with walls, floor and ceiling of the whitest marble that gleamed unbearably brightly after the dark of the culvert. There were two vats in one corner that Church chose not to investigate, and nothing else apart from a channel in the floor down which the discarded blood had flowed.
Church pulled himself into the chamber and headed towards the doorway, leaving a telltale trail of sticky red footprints. He tried to wipe off as much residue as he could and hoped the remainder would dry quickly.
The doorway opened onto a long corridor with many other doors leading off it. Everywhere was brilliant white, distorting perspective. His heart beating uncomfortably fast, Church edged along the corridor. The constant machine thrum hung in the background, occasionally punctuated by a distant high-pitched whine like an electric saw.
Tom had suggested that the lamp with the Pendragon Spirit would be kept somewhere in the heart of the complex, where the Tuatha Dé Danann conducted their most important experiments into the nature of Existence.
He had no way to get his bearings, and so he had no choice but to explore randomly and hope he would find something that would lead him in the right direction.
After a while he came across the first signs of life. An archway provided a view across three adjoining chambers, and in the furthest one he saw six people wearing robes of the deepest scarlet. They wore matching masks and hats that reminded Church of surgeons. He guessed that was a good analogy, for they were gathered around a table involved in some kind of operation. Church could see no instruments in use, but something lay on the table twitching and jumping as they went about their business. He watched for a moment, but what little detail he could garner hinted at something that disturbed him immensely and he moved on.
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