Mary's thoughts were cotton wool, swaddling his words so that the sharp meaning could not be felt. But she struggled with them until some semblance of understanding emerged. We're in danger?'
'A time of frost and fire approaches.'
'Why do you care?' She jerked, not meaning for her words to sound so emboldened. When he didn't answer, she said, 'What do you expect me to do?' though she feared the answer.
'Nothing is as it appears. You will need new eyes.' He reached out, and his arm appeared to stretch like melting rubber. Fingers that were not fingers scratched the centre of her forehead and Mary's vision fragmented in jewelled images and starbursts. When she could finally see again, the stranger had raised his arm and was pointing out of the door. 'Go. See.' She found herself at the village hall without any memory of how she had got there from her cottage. She still had on her slippers, but didn't have a coat, and she shivered in the early-morning cold. Dreamily, she made her way into the hall.
Her hand flew to her mouth at the choking stench. Gideon, the chairman of the parish council, and some teenage boy whose name she didn't recall, dozed in chairs, worn out by futile caring. She tried not to pay any attention to two unmoved bodies that lay blackened by the plague in the centre of the room, and instead made her way to the side room where lay those still clinging on to thin life. But the instant she stepped across the threshold she was shocked rigid.
Tiny figures as insubstantial as smoke danced and twisted above the heads of the woman and young boy lying on the tables. Black-skinned, with a mix of human and lizard qualities, their twirling tails and curved horns reminded Mary of nothing more than medieval illustrations of devils. A malignant glee filled every movement as they soared and ducked, pinching and stabbing their unfortunate hosts. And where they touched the woman and boy, blackness flowed from them into the strange meridians the plague left on the bodies of its victims.
As Mary clutched the door jamb in disorientation, the devils appeared shocked that she could see them. Their malignancy returned quickly, though, and they silently jeered and mocked her with offensive gestures, knowing she could do nothing to stop them.
Mary grabbed a yard brush from the wall and swung it to swat them away, but it passed straight through them; they weren't there, not in any sense she understood.
Staggering back into the main hall, understanding swept through her. Now she knew why the medication didn't work, why the plague was like none seen before; it wasn't of the world at all. And after that, other thoughts surfaced in a mad rush of release, but the most important was this: Caitlin had gone in search of a cure without realising the plague's true nature. She may well have been sent to her death.
Chapter Four
On the edge of Forever
'Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land.'
Christina Georgina Rossetti
The Oxfordshire countryside was coming alive. Buds were bursting on all the branches and overgrown hedgerows, and burgeoning wildlife scurried everywhere Caitlin looked. The already crumbling roads were camouflaged with thistle and yellow grass. Caitlin fought back a wave of grief at the realisation that Grant and Liam weren't there to experience it with her. Sometimes the despair came from nowhere, like a storm at sea, and she had to battle to keep in control. Other times she was simply numb.
To distract herself, she turned her attention to Mahalia and Carlton while Crowther drove.
'Where were you going when we met you?' Caitlin asked.
Mahalia thought for a moment, then said, 'To meet you.'
Caitlin didn't hear any sarcasm in the comment, but she couldn't be sure. She still hadn't decided whether she liked Mahalia, or if the girl's sullen attitude was simply a defence mechanism.
Mahalia saw what was going through Caitlin's head and gave an annoyed shake of her head. 'Carlton saw you in his dreams. Yeah. Really. He was determined that we should come after you.'
The boy looked up at Caitlin with wide, innocent eyes that made him seem even younger. She saw in them something of Liam and instantiy wanted to hug him. 'He dreamed about me?'
Mahalia read Caitlin's expression and threw a protective arm around Carlton's shoulders. 'He's special. Aren't you, mate?' He giggled silently as she squeezed him. 'I didn't believe it at first, but he soon showed me. He sees things.'
'Visions?'
'I suppose. He knows all sorts of stuff that he shouldn't. Sometimes he has trouble making me understand exactly what he's saying, but I get most of it. He's got us out of a few scrapes. There was a time in Southampton…' She shook her head to dispel the sour memory. 'I wouldn't be here now if not for him.'
'But why me?' Caitlin said.
Mahalia's contemptuous expression said that she had no idea either.
'What is it, Carlton?' Caitlin asked gently. But all the boy would do was smile.
'He does that sometimes,' Mahalia said. 'He'll tell you in his own good time.'
'So when were you going to tell me this, Mahalia?'
'Oh, soon,' the girl replied lightly.
Caitlin didn't fall for it. She wondered what else lay behind Mahalia's diamond-hard exterior that the teenager wasn't revealing. They made their way through picturesque villages that belied the advent of the Fall. In many of them, life appeared to go on as normal: wisps of smoke floated up from the chimneys of stone houses and washing fluttered on lines in back gardens. Villagers out on their errands would stop and stare in amazement as the car roared by, wondering what the apparition signified. Other lanes were blocked by horse-drawn carts transporting produce from one village to the next, the drivers yanking the reins tight to prevent their horses from shying at the unfamiliar beast.
Eventually, reaching a minor road along a windswept ridge on the edge of the Cotswolds, Crowther pulled up against a mass of vegetation that had once been the verge.
'We're here?' Caitlin said, looking for some sign of a specific destination. All she could see were untended fields turned wild, and burgeoning hedgerows and copses.
Crowther grunted something incoherent in response and set out along the road without waiting for the others, his staff clattering an insistent rhythm. Mahalia and Carlton crawled out from behind the seats, stretching aching muscles. It was still and peaceful, with insects flitting over the long grass and birds singing in every tree.
As Caitlin, Mahalia and Carlton hurried to catch up with the professor, the chattering at the back of Caitlin's head grew louder as her inner selves became feverishly excited.
Mahalia could feel something, too, for the contempt had left her face to be replaced by an out-of-place uncertainty. 'Where are we going?' she asked. Carlton gave her hand a supportive squeeze; of all of them, he appeared the most at ease.
Crowther pointed to a weather-worn rock rising up in a field to their left. Rusty iron railings imprisoned it. 'Well, there's part of it,' he said gruffly. He turned swiftly through a gate concealed by overgrown vegetation and led them past a small hut with yellowing pamphlets in a dirty display case. And then they were there.
Surrounded by trees and hedges on three sides was a small stone circle forty strides across. Only a few of the pockmarked, eroded limestone pillars still stood tall. The majority were broken stumps. On the fourth side, two gateway stones opened out on to sunlit fields rolling down into a valley.
'The Rollrights,' Crowther intoned. 'A Neolithic stone circle.'
'This is where we get to that other world?' Caitlin asked.
'Where we'll make the attempt to cross over.' Crowther led the way cautiously, his darting eyes searching amongst the trees.
They paused on the edge of the circle, which Crowther defined with a wave of his hand. 'These are known as The King's Men.' He turned and pointed in the direction of the stone now hidden behind the hedge across the road. 'The King Stone.' And then away across the fields to the east, where they could just make out four upright stones and one fallen. 'The remains of a chambered long barrow, now known as the Whispering Knights. Lege
nd says they are a king and his knights turned to stone by a witch. Some of the locals say the stones come alive at midnight, performing strange ritual dances… they even go down to Little Rollright Spinney over there to get a drink. Stories like that are one of the hidden sources of information I spoke of earlier. The suggestion of transformation and magic tells me the ancients believed this place had a special power — that's what we need to tap into, the reason why we're here.'
Caitlin expected Mahalia to make some sneering comment, but the girl remained on edge and watchful.
'I'm not sure I like it here,' Caitlin said.
'You're responding to the atmosphere. This is a special place,' Crowther replied.
'What do you mean?'
'It has a unique ambience, a confluence of subtle alterations to the quality of the light, the scents of the vegetation, the temperature… and on an unseen level, patterns of background radiation, ultrasound, anomalous radio signals. What you're feeling is the shock of a new experience. It's quite… destabilising. You'll get used to it.'
Mahalia didn't look convinced. She put her arm around Carlton again and led him away to one side where she whispered to him insistently, flashing occasional urgent glances at Caitlin.
Crowther moved to the tallest of the nearby stones and held out one hand, as if to touch it. But then he hesitated, as if he were about to plunge his hand into water that could be freezing cold or boiling hot. He steeled himself, then clamped his palm on the surface before smiling. 'Power, you see. Infused in every molecule.'
'What kind of power?' Caitlin asked.
'Ah, that's the question. Something science never quite got to grips with. This place is like a battery… no, like a node on some national energy grid.' He removed his hat and leaned forward until his forehead was gently touching the cool rock. 'There was a research group called the Dragon Project working here in the late seventies, early eighties, looking into the notion of some kind of telluric energy — earth energy. Airy-fairy, you might say.' He laughed. 'New Age nonsense. But then a Geiger counter picked up sudden surges of radiation, something that only seemed to happen at megalithic sites. And then they found pulses of ultrasound, strange radio signals, short bursts, like a homing beacon. They never did get to the bottom of it.'
Caitlin realised that Crowther was right: she was starting to feel better, attuning herself to the subtle energies of the place. The chattering voices had quietened, and an abiding peace rose in her heart. She breathed deeply, tasting the trees and grass and rock. But there was still memory, tugging her back. 'How long have we got?' she said.
Crowther looked at the sky, an ages-old shaman divining the wind and clouds. 'Not as much time as I'd like.'
'You don't think the Whisperers will leave us alone?'
'No. Do you?' He eyed her cautiously before deciding not to let it spoil his mood. 'It's going to be a lovely day. Make the most of it.' The morning passed slowly. They lit a fire on rough ground beyond the hut and cooked up a meal of eggs and herbs, stolen by Mahalia from a farm they had passed during the night. Caitlin's plea that they in some way pay for the produce had been cut short by the angry farmer and his sons chasing them furiously away.
The day was warmer than they could have expected for that time of year. Caitlin and Mahalia took turns keeping watch while Crowther busied himself with things he insisted were necessary for whatever ritualistic endeavour he had planned for sunset, though Caitlin was convinced he was simply trying to avoid doing any real work.
It was during her third watch in the early hours of the afternoon that Caitlin became entranced by sparkling lights high up in the trees. Just the pleasing play of sunlight in the branches, she thought, until she realised that the glimmering moved of its own accord. She watched the glitter trails with distracted curiosity, lost in the dreamy peace that had crept over her since she had become accustomed to the Rollrights' peculiar atmosphere. Even the sickening undertow of grief in the pit of her stomach had abated, and though she still thought of Liam and Grant every few moments, it was with the warm remembrance of happier times, not the sense of loss that physically hurt. Perhaps the lights were another manifestation of whatever caused the odd sound and radiation effects Crowther had mentioned earlier, she speculated.
But after five minutes, she realised with a growing sense of amazement that she could make out tiny forms at the heart of the lights — little people, with wings. The discovery filled her with a pure, innocent wonder that she had not experienced since she was a child. She watched them for a few more minutes until one appeared to notice her and swooped down. The figure hovered on gossamer wings, barely six inches high, its androgynous features incredibly beautiful. The skin itself exuded the golden light.
She reached out to it, but it always stayed a few inches away from her fingertips, examining her with a deep curiosity as if it was reading the depths of her mind. Eventually its puzzled face broke into a sympathetic smile and it dived forward to trace its fingers across her forehead before darting a few feet away. Its touch felt like the wings of a moth, but then a strange syrupy warmth flowed through Caitlin and in an instant even the last vestige of her grief disappeared. The being's smile became broad and warm. It waved to her once, and then soared back up to rejoin its companions in the treetops.
Caitlin could barely believe what had happened. In a rush of excitement, she ran from her lookout to tell the others what had happened.
Crowther was nowhere to be found, but Mahalia and Carlton had just returned from an exploration of the surrounding countryside. She gushed out a description of the event, ending with a passionate admission: 'It cured me! Of my grief, I mean! I'm sure it'll be back… I know it will… but for now… amazing!'
Mahalia merely nodded and said, 'Good for you.'
'You're not surprised? I mean, I'm talking about, you know, fairies or something
The girl shrugged blithely. 'I've seen things. Anybody who goes out on the road has — in the countryside, the wild areas.'
Caitlin had a sudden true perspective of the girl's age; Mahalia acted so much older than she was. 'What happened to your family, Mahalia?'
'None of your business.' Caitlin didn't need to quiz her further to guess the true picture. She knew how bad things had been in the cities — the breakdown of communication and food supplies, the riots and looting. In some areas, she'd heard tell there had been death on a grand scale. They'd all thought society had been so strong, but in the end it was as fragile as a human life.
As they made their way back to the campfire, Caitlin asked, 'Why are you coming with us? You know it could be dangerous.'
Mahalia's laugh was so bitter, Caitlin winced. The girl pulled her jacket to one side to reveal a harness of belts she'd strung together herself. It held various weapons — knives, straight razors, screwdrivers and other things that looked home-made but nonetheless lethal. 'You haven't seen what it's like out there.'
'No, I haven't. But I can guess…'
'No, you can't. Nobody could, because everyone had been fooled into thinking we're all such cosy, caring people. But take away a few home comforts and the truth really comes out.'
'I know some people-' Caitlin began in disagreement.
Mahalia laughed again. 'Listen up. I'd been hiding out in the country but couldn't find any food during that first winter, so I went into Southampton. Big mistake. All the rich folk had built a nice little compound where they'd stockpiled food and they'd found enough shotguns to keep everyone else out. The poor were left to fend for themselves in the city centre. And that's just what they did. There were gangs — young, old, black, white — all fighting for their bit of turf. They didn't care what was going on in the rest of the world, they didn't care about decency, they just cared about getting through the day. That's what happens when it comes down to survival. You'll do anything just to stay alive.'
'No…' 'Yes! I got picked up by some creepy old guy the first time I wandered in begging for food. He hit me round the back of the head with a l
ump of wood and dragged me back to his place, locked me in the attic with a bunch of others. He'd got a nice little business going, trading people for food… girls, boys, women…'
'For sex?'
'For anything… sex, work, stealing. I spent four nights in there — ten of us in a space as big as a van. No toilet, no light, a few crumbs of food every now and then, a few drops of water that tasted like he'd pissed in it. One woman in there… she'd got a baby. She'd been in longer than me. The kid was crying all the time, and she'd hardly got any milk. She was in a bad way. Then suddenly there wasn't any crying any more.'
Caitlin had a vivid impression of Liam in his pram. 'It died.'
'She killed it. Smothered it, because she needed all the energy she'd got just to stay alive.'
'Oh, no…'
Mahalia snorted dismissively. 'That's the way it goes. I got sold on soon after. But I wasn't anybody's property for long. I learned to look after myself. I've taken a man's eye out with a spoon, watched it bounce across the floor then squashed it with my boot in front of his good eye. And you know what? I let him off lightly — I should have had both his eyes out. I've stabbed a screwdriver into somebody's ribs while they were sleeping to collapse a lung. But I've never been raped! I'm proud of that. All the sick bastards out there, and nobody's ever took me.'
Carlton shook her shoulder roughly; he had tears in his eyes.
'I'm sorry, mate.' Mahalia gave him a squeeze, then said to Caitlin, 'This place is hell. People make it hell. It can't be any worse where you're going.' Caitlin drew patterns in the soil with a twig while she weighed Mahalia's words. Finally she said, 'I've seen terrible things happen — not like that, not things people do to each other but… bad things. And you mustn't ever let yourself think that the bad people are everything. Yes, they exist, but the best of humanity is out there, too. People helping each other… making incredible acts of sacrifice. I honestly believe most people are good.'
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