something to do with it?'
'Aren't you the one who is always telling me how useless prophesies are?'
'That's the frustrating part. If we only knew what we were looking for…'
Gregor stirred, his eyes flicked open. He sat upright. 'We are almost there, yes?'
The train began slowing as we tracked around the outskirts of Hereford and then curved around to cross the river into the city.
'Now,' said Gregor, 'we shall see what can be seen.'
Gregor's instructions to the taxi driver were to take us to the village of Kilpeck, which turned out to be about ten miles or so south-west of Hereford. The taxi dropped us near a country pub, one of those that had once been a local for the villagers but had been transformed into a restaurant catering for the owners of sports cars and four- by-fours. Gregor paid the taxi driver and asked him for a business card so that we could ring when we needed to get back to the station.
We walked up the lane past farm buildings and village houses towards the church, topping a small rise at one end of the village. It was a squat building on a rise of meadow graveyard with walls of pinkish stone and a slate roof rising to a sharp peak, a bell-cote at one end. The roof stepped down twice to a rounded end that looked as if it might have been added as an afterthought.
'It's Norman,' said Blackbird, 'and in surprisingly good condition. When did you say it was built, Gregor?'
'Construction was in the twelfth century, sometime around 1140. There was a motte and bailey castle on the western side but alas, that has not survived. Only the church remains intact.'
Gregor walked through the churchyard gate straight up to the ornate doorway. I recognised it from the drawing in the book he showed us, and from Angela's vision. It was the same portal, there could be no other like it, surely? The heavy wood had been weathered to an almost stone-like grey with huge iron hinges bracing the door, while the stone archway had been detailed with carvings of mythical creatures with vines twining around and in between them, bound together with celtic knots. If anything, the reality was even more impressive than the vision had been.
'Wow!' I said. 'That's some door. Was this place important at some point?' I looked back to the village behind us, which hardly seemed to merit the ostentation put into the church. Gregor ignored my comments and focused on inspecting the carvings around the arch.
I turned to Blackbird, intending to try and indicate that I had something to tell her out of Gregor's earshot, but she was already moving away.
'Look at these corbels,' said Blackbird, heading off around the side of the church.
'These what?' I asked, following her.
'The stone projections under the roof-line,' she explained. 'Decorations carved under the roof-line. These are superb. I've never seen anything like them.'
Along the wall, under where the supports for the roof jutted out were stone carved heads looking down at us. Some were recognisable; a hound nestled against a rabbit and an owl's face peered down at us. Others were oddities, creatures that looked like aardvarks or men in strange helmets.
I looked back to see if Gregor had followed us, he was standing by the portal watching from a distance. 'I've seen this place before,' I said to Blackbird in a low tone that would not carry to Gregor.
'You have?' she said.
'In Angela's vision. There was a man here, talking to the priest. They were talking about something the man wasn't comfortable doing. He talked about protecting something.'
'Hmm,' said Blackbird. 'Perhaps he was talking about the corbels, Well, look at that.'
'What am I looking at?' I asked her.
She pointed out a rather grotesque figure. Its hands seemed to be pulling apart its abdomen.
'That's a Sheela Na Gig,' said Blackbird. 'It must be one of no more than a handful that survived.'
'What's it doing?' I asked her.
'She's showing us her genitals,' said Blackbird, 'which as you may imagine, did not go down well with the puritans. I thought they'd destroyed them all.'
'What an odd thing.' I looked up at the strange image. 'Why would you put that on a church?'
'Where's Gregor?' said Blackbird.
I looked around. I had assumed that he was waiting for us, but he was nowhere to be seen. 'He must be in the church,' I said.
'Come on,' said Blackbird. 'He's up to something.'
She walked briskly back around the church and placed her hand on the door. It clunked and swung open under her hand. Inside the church to our left was a font, an ancientlooking parish display and wooden steps leading up to a choir gallery. To our right was the body of the church with darkoak pews arranged to either side.
Beyond that was the apse, where the altar was placed, and between was a tall arch, similar in shape the main door, but larger. Gregor was beyond this, muttering to himself.
'Look,' I said, pointing out the carvings on the arch to Blackbird.
On either pillar there were monks carved into the stone, one above another. They looked grim, each bearing a token as if it were a great weight. On the left the monks were holding a sceptre, a key and a scourge, and on the right they were holding a cross, an arrow and a feather.
'I guess we're in the right place,' I said to Blackbird.
She was watching Gregor through the archway. He was kneeling behind a pew which was placed on the far right of the arch. For a moment I thought he was praying. On the stone flags beyond the arch he had chalked the six symbols we saw in the book.
'It has gone,' he muttered to himself. 'What will we do? How? How can this be?'
'What's he saying?' I asked Blackbird.
In one motion he jumped to his feet. 'You!' he proclaimed. 'You know who did this! You must tell me.' His words boomed around the church.
'Did what?' asked Blackbird. Her words were spoken quietly, encouraging him to calm himself, but he was not calmed.
'Thief!' He proclaimed. 'You do not know what you have stolen.'
'I haven't stolen anything,' said Blackbird.
'I saw you,' said Gregor. 'The tarot does not lie. The Priestess and the Hanged Man, you were in my laboratory.'
'You said I should visit you,' said Blackbird. 'Gregor, you invited me.'
'What's he raving about?' I asked her.
'You came to me with stories of travel to the Americas, but there is no trace of American in your accent, your clothes are from England and your skin is as pale as ever it was. You were never in America.'
He looked from her to me. 'Your friend, he trains with a sword, walks like a warrior and speaks of thieves with concern in his voice. He worries for them, why?'
'What have you lost, Gregor?' she asked him.
'No!' he said. 'You know who has taken it. You will tell me or you will not leave this place.'
He sketched a sign in the air, and the door behind us slammed shut with a sharp bang.
Blackbird glanced back and then at Gregor. 'Party trick?' she asked.
'I will show you party tricks,' he said. He sketched another sign in the air and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. I found myself suddenly gasping for breath.
Gregor seemed to grow in size. 'Tell me!' he roared.
Blackbird was unaffected. 'You dare to call upon air with me?' she said with scorn in her voice. She snapped her fingers and the air was restored.
'Blackbird?' I said. This situation was getting out of control.
'I knew it,' Gregor was elated. 'You will pit your mastery against mine! You will return to me what was taken!' He gestured grandly and the room vibrated to his words.
'I haven't taken anything,' said Blackbird, 'but you are not quite what you appear to be, are you Gregor?'
'I challenge you!' he shouted. 'Your mastery against mine.'
'I do not accept,' said Blackbird. 'This is not a game. Something was taken and you will tell me what it was.'
