while listening to the crack, drip and shiver of the living wood around them.
Shavi was correct about the dark, which swept in unnervingly quickly until it was sitting just beyond the glimmer of the campfire, breathing in and out oppressively.
After a while Laura found herself leaning against Shavi; she had shuffled up to him almost unconsciously, for comfort. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, out of friendship; there wasn't a hint of any of the passion they had shared in Glastonbury. And she leaned her head gently against his shoulder, glad he was there, for so many reasons she could barely count them.
'You seem unhappy,' he ventured.
'And you look like a dickhead, but do I take it out on you?'
He smiled and waited for a few moments while the rushing of the river took over. 'Romance is by necessity difficult.'
'Everything is difficult.' Then: 'Why 'by necessity'?'
'The value of anything is defined by the effort it takes us to get it. And romance is the most valuable thing of all.'
'That's one opinion. Me, I'd go for an iced bottle of Stolichnaya, an ounce of Red Leb and some peace and quiet.'
'Jack is going through a difficult time. He has suffered an extreme emotional blow-'
'We've all got our problems.'
— and a great deal is expected of him, more than he thinks he can possibly give. He is torn between the things he wants to do, the things his heart is telling him, and what he feels is the right thing to do.'
'He's too wrapped up in this whole `heroes have to sacrifice' thing.'
'Yes, he is.' Shavi gave her a faint, comforting squeeze. 'But he is a good, decent man. The best of all of us.'
'I know that.'
'Everyone knows it. Except Jack.'
'And you're about to say I should cut him some slack.'
'No. I am just saying this by way of explanation.'
'You think I've done the wrong thing by getting in with him, don't you?' She looked round at him, but his gaze was fixed firmly away in the trees.
'I think your romance would have a better chance at a different time. There are so many obstacles being placed before it by external events.'
She looked away so he couldn't see her face.
'But you know your heart better than I.' He turned and stared at the back of her head, hoping she would look at him, but she kept the barriers up. 'And if there is any lesson from all this hardship we are experiencing, it is that things are worth fighting for and fighting to the last, and tremendous things do happen.'
'Who do you think he should be with?'
'I-' He struggled to find words that would not hurt her. 'My opinion does not matter.'
'It matters to me.' When he didn't answer, she said in a barely audible voice, 'He's my last chance.'
'What do you mean?' he asked curiously.
'Nothing.'
Shavi thought about what she said for a moment. 'You are a good person,' he stated firmly.
'No, I'm not. I'm a bad girl. And I've got coming to me what all bad girls get.'
'No-'
Her face flared with long-repressed emotion. 'Don't give me all that redemption shit! Don't even begin to tell me everything will turn out bright and sunny. That's not how it works!'
'It does in my world.'
That brought her up sharp. She eyed him askance, then looked away, her expression so desolate with the flood of uncontrollable feelings and ideas that Shavi wanted to pull her tightly to him to comfort her.
But before he could act he caught a movement away in the trees. It was barely anything, a shift of a shadow among shadows in the gloom, and it could easily have been some small animal investigating the fire, but his instincts told him otherwise.
Laura felt his body stiffen. 'What is it?' she asked, sensing his urgency.
'I do not know.' He rose and advanced to the fire.
'Didn't you ever see Halloween?' she cautioned. 'Don't go any further, dickhead.'
'I am simply trying to see-' The words strangled in his throat in such an awful manner Laura didn't have to see his face to know he had glimpsed something terrible.
'What is it, for God's sake?' she hissed.
The fear surged into a hard lump in her chest, but it melted into burning ice when she saw him moving quickly away from the firelight into the dark.
'Don't go!' Her yell trailed away in dismay and disbelief. How could he be so stupid?
And then she was alone in that dismal place with the dark pressing tight around her, feeling small and weak in the face of all the awful things loose in the world. She couldn't bring herself to move even a finger. Instead, she strained to hear the sound of his returning footsteps, any sound from him that proved he was still alive. But there was nothing. Just the constant rustle of the leaves, the creak of branches under the wings of the wind, the rumble of the river; the lyrical sounds oppressed her. It was too noisy, too alive with nothing.
'Shavi,' she whispered, more to comfort herself with the sound of a voice than in the hope he might hear. Don't do this to me, she wanted to say. I'm not strong enough to deal with this on my own.
She sat there for an age while she grew old and wizened. Her rigid muscles ached, her stomach was clenched so tightly she thought she was going to vomit or pass out. And still there was no sign of him. He could have been swallowed up, torn apart; there could be things feeding silently on his remains right then, waiting to finish their meal before moving on to her.
And then he suddenly lurched into the circle of light and all of it erupted out of her in a piercing scream.
'Don't worry,' he croaked.
'You stupid bastard!' she shouted in a mixture of embarrassment and angry relief.
But then, as he clambered down next to her, she saw his normally dark, handsome features were grey and there was a strained expression which made him look fifteen years older. 'What was out there?' she said, suddenly afraid once more.
He couldn't seem to find any words. Then: 'Nothing.'
It was such a pathetically inadequate response she hit him hard on the arm. 'Don't treat me like an idiot. Don't try to protect me like some stupid little girlie. That's the worst thing you can do to me.' She swallowed, glanced fearfully beyond the firelight.
'It is nothing. Nothing for you to worry about.'
'Then, what?' She searched his face and saw things in his eyes which unnerved her on some deep plane. With his philosophical outlook, Shavi had always seemed immune to the terrors that plagued the rest of them; he was an anchor for her, a sign that it was possible to cope better. And suddenly all that fell away. 'What is it, Shavi?' She reached tentative fingers to his cheek. 'What did you see out there?'
'What did I see?' His voice sounded hollow. 'I saw Lee. My boyfriend. Two years dead now, two years dead. His head smashed out in the street. And he spoke to me. The things he said…' His voice was dragged away by the wind.
Laura recalled how Shavi had told them of the murder arranged by the Tuatha lle Danann, one of the deaths that had prepared them all for their destiny. 'He was really there?' Her concern for Shavi was suddenly overtaken by the sudden fear that if Lee was there, her dead mother could be too. And that really would be more than she could bear.
Shavi seemed to sense what she was thinking, for his face softened a little. 'It is my burden. The price I had to pay for getting the information from the spirits in Mary King's Close.'
'But that's terrible! That's not a price, it's a sentence! It's not fair!'
'It is my burden. I will cope with it.' It was obvious he couldn't bring himself to speak any more, and however much she wanted to ask him what the spectre had said, she knew it was something he would never tell. But she could see from the expression on his face that it must have been something awful indeed. How much longer would
