Chapter Seventeen
'What do you mean, it's all your fault?' Breaker's face was shattered, his cheeks still stinging red from tears. Carolina stood beside him like a ghost while Meg squatted nearby, her hands pressed against her eyes, as if she were trying to stop the image from entering her brain.
Shavi explained everything, from when it had all begun on the banks of Loch Maree. The others listened intently, their faces impassive; Shavi couldn't tell if they were judging him. Afterwards Carolina asked in a breaking voice, 'So why is it hunting you?'
'I have no idea.' He swallowed, composed himself. 'I thought we had seen the last of it in Edinburgh. I had no idea it was following me or I would not have brought it to your door. You must believe me-'
'We do.' Meg came forward and hugged him tightly. 'We can all see you're all right. You wouldn't have put us at risk if you'd known.' She glanced over to where the body lay covered by a sheet. 'Poor Penny. Just after she'd found out what'd happened to jack.'
'That is why it happened,' Shavi said morosely.
'What do you mean?' Breaker asked.
'The attack was meant to show there is no hope. Penny was snuffed out just as she achieved it.' Shavi chewed his lip until he tasted blood. 'It was a message for me. The finger was left outside the tent, a sign that the killer could have come for me while I slept.'
'But why?' Carolina looked like she was about to vomit.
'To make me suffer, I would think. To make me frightened, always looking over my shoulder, so never knowing when the attack will come.'
'What's the obsession with fingers?' Breaker asked.
'I have no idea. Are you going to report this to the police?'
Breaker toyed with his beard, but it was Meg who gave voice to the thoughts in all their minds. 'There's no point. With all the shit going down, the cops haven't got time to look into this. They'll probably just use it as another excuse to harass us.'
'Then I would suggest we bury her among the trees. The Wood-born will watch over her,' Shavi suggested.
The grave party ensured the hole was six feet deep, carefully avoiding all the roots that criss-crossed the area. There were enough of them to ensure the work was done quickly, then everyone in the camp gathered for the ceremony; their faces were disbelieving, angry, distraught. Their lives had been disrupted so suddenly and completely no one had quite been able to assimilate what had happened. Breaker and Meg said a few words in a ritual which echoed the cycles of the seasons and spoke to the overwhelming force of nature.
Once the grave was filled, everyone was surprised to see a spontaneous shower of leaves from all the surrounding trees, until the overturned soil was covered by a crisp blanket of green; it was an act of such respect several people wept at the sight. Shavi felt, in a grimly ironic way, that the bond between the two groups had been strengthened further.
They decided to postpone any wake until everyone had had time to come to terms with what had happened. Instead, Breaker, Carolina, Meg, and Shavi gathered around a makeshift table in the back of Breaker's bus.
'Of course, I will be leaving shortly,' Shavi announced once they were seated.
'Why?' Meg's eyes blazed.
'This sickening thing is pursuing me. When I leave he will follow me and you will be left to return to your lives.'
'No,' Meg said forcefully.
'I agree,' Carolina added. 'You're one of us now. We're not going to desert you.'
'They're right,' Breaker said. 'They're always right about everything, that's why we love them.' His words seemed honest rather than patronising. 'There's safety in numbers, Shavi. You go off on your own across that deserted countryside, well, that bastard could pick you off at any time. We're organised here. We can do more, better, watches. We'll get you where you need to go.'
'But-'
'Don't fucking argue,' Carolina said wearily. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 'Think of your friend. Think of the big picture, all you're trying to do. Here's where we do our bit too.'
Shavi sagged back against the window and slowly rubbed a hand across his eyes. 'Thank you. You are true friends.'
'Just do one thing for us,' Breaker said.
'What is that?'
'If you get a chance, any time, ever, bring Jack back. For Penny.'
Shavi put one hand on his heart and held the other up, palm out. 'For Penny.'
Church perched on a rocky outcropping over a precipitous drop, contemplating how quickly the remaining nine days would pass. Before him the Derbyshire countryside rolled out in the hazy, late morning sunshine, a patchwork of green fields, shimmering water, ribbon roads and small, peaceful villages. But it wasn't the great beauty of the scene that caught his attention.
Nearby, houses were burning. The tangled wreckage of vehicles glinted in the sunlight. Things he couldn't quite comprehend moved along the hedgerows or kept to the dark at the edge of copses. Occasionally one would be forced to cross a field, like a cloud shadow moving across the land. It always made him shiver to see it.
The Fomorii appeared to be growing in force, more daring in their desperation as Lughnasadh neared. They sensed Ruth and what she contained were somewhere in the area, but the magic Tom had identified at Mam Tor was, so far, enough to blind them to the exact location. But if he allowed himself to admit it, he knew it was only a question of time. For once, he could do nothing; it was a matter of placing his faith in Shavi, Veitch, and Tom.
Sometimes he saw the Fomorii hunter-warrior circling the area, more intense and threatening than the other shifting shapes, like a localised storm filled with lightning fury. It left him feeling fearful and nauseous. And something more than that: he was starting to feel the bitter taint of hopelessness. Only days to go. What could they do? They were going to fail again, and it would be the end of everything.
Cautiously he crept back from the edge. What would he do when the black tide did begin to surge up the mountain? Fight them off with sticks and stones like schoolboy war games? Or sit back and pray there really, truly was a God in His heaven?
Ruth lay in her sleeping bag on a bed made of flattened fern in a corner of the room. Her skin was ashen, her hair matted from the bouts of sweating and delirium that were coming with increasing regularity. Her eyes flickered, her features trembled; terrible thoughts that did not seem to come from her own mind stumbled through her head.
They had cleaned up the place as best they could. Church and Laura had spent a morning sweeping out the rubbish and depositing it in the shadows at the back of the house. Church had patched up the roof with dead wood and vegetation, but the wind still whipped through the broken windows and sometimes it was uncommonly cold for that time of year; perhaps it was the altitude. Food was a problem. There was little to trap on the mountain and none of them were any good at it anyway. Church had made several forays into a nearby village and had stocked up the larder as best he could. The increasing Fomorii activity in the area made it too risky to go foraging any more. They all prayed the provisions would hold out.
Laura squatted in the corner, occasionally casting a subdued glance to Ruth's restlessly sleeping form. The sunglasses rarely came off these days, even at night. Her brooding consumed her. She hated the way Church cared for Ruth; there was real tenderness in his touch, an honesty in his words that made her yearn; the feeling between the two ran so deep it was as if it had formed when the earth was just cooling. She knew it was jealousy, pure and simple; it was the kind of relationship she had always dreamed about, had expected once she had hooked up with Church, yet even though all the facets seemed in place, it had never materialised, and that was the bitterest blow of all. If she couldn't find it with Church, who could she plumb those depths with?
And she could see Ruth was dying; they all knew it, though no one spoke it aloud. Yet there she was, being petty and jealous and bitter. That filled her with guilt and self-loathing, which once more fed all those negative
