'No.' That look again, even though she was trying to hide it.
'Tell me what's wrong.'
Her eyes flickered away from him; she pretended she was watching the dying embers of the campfire away near the tents. Then: 'I'm scared.' A pause. 'And that was about as easy to say as swallowing nails.'
'We're all scared.'
'Do you think you can be any more glib?'
He sighed. 'Don't try to pick another fight. There are easier kinds of sport.'
'I'm not. You are being glib.' Her voice sounded hurt, the first time he had heard that tone. 'I'm scared something's happening to me. Inside.'
'What, you're ill?'
'I guess.' She flinched, looked unsure. 'When that winter witch came after me in the club in Edinburgh something happened that I didn't tell anybody about-'
'Why not?'
'Because I was scared, you dickhead. Are you going to hear me out or talk bollocks for the rest of the night? I was trying to get out, thinking I was dead, regretting being a stupid bitch like usual, and I cut myself. Nothing much.' She held up her finger and drew a faint line on her skin where the scratch had been. 'Only the blood wasn't red, it was green.'
'Some kind of poisoning?'
She shook her head forcefully. 'When it splashed, it seemed to have a life of its own. It moved all over some bars on a window, broke them open.' She stared at her hand as if it belonged to somebody else. In a quiet voice, she added, 'I think I'm jinxed for life.'
Church took her hand and examined it closely. Slowly, he turned it over; there was the tattoo of interlocking leaves that had been burned into her flesh on the island in Loch Maree, the mark of Cernunnos.
Gradually realisation crossed her face. 'The bastard did something to me! I was so worried I didn't even think of that.'
'Maybe. Seems like too much of a coincidence.'
'And there are no coincidences,' she added bitterly. 'So what's happened to me? God…' She slammed her fist against the ground angrily.
'I don't know, but I'm betting we'll find out sooner or later. The way Cernunnos acted, he must have something in mind for you.' He felt a surge of anger at how the gods continued to manipulate them all. 'Look, you're obviously still healthy, still walking about, try not to worry about it-'
'That's easy for you to say! How would you feel if you'd suddenly got antifreeze for blood?' She brushed at her eye before he saw the stray tear, the only honest admission of all the churning emotions in her.
Suddenly he was aware of how fragile she felt, alone and worrying, trying to do her best for everyone else while keeping her personal fears deep inside. She was more of a mess than all of them and that was saying something: filled with self-loathing, unable to see even the slightest good in her character. Yet still trying to do her best. He brushed the hair from her forehead; she wouldn't look at him. He had responsibilities here too; no one else was looking out for her and she wasn't up to doing it herself. Once again he was trapped by doing what was right and damning the consequences. He couldn't abandon her; that would be inhuman. So what if Niamh found out? He could explain the situation. How bad could it be? Certainly not as bad as leaving Laura to fend for herself when she was at her lowest ebb.
'Come on,' he whispered. 'Let's go to bed.'
Morning came bright and hard. Tom was up before everyone else, lighting the fire and boiling up the remnants of the rabbit stew they'd eaten the night before; it met with uniform disapproval, but there was no alternative so they forced it down despite their protesting stomachs.
By 7 a.m. they were on their way. Using Veitch's book of maps in conjunction with the sun, Tom strode out confidently. He still refused to give them even a hint as to their destination.
'I don't get it,' Laura said. 'Yesterday my feet were two big, fat blisters. Today they're fine.'
Tom snorted derisively from the front of the column. 'Don't you ever pay attention? Why do you think your esteemed leader healed so quickly after the Fomorii masters of torture were loose on him under Dartmoor? Do you think they simply didn't do a proper job? Why do you think Ruth has regained her-'
'What's your point, you old git?'
'It's the Pendragon Spirit,' Church said. 'It helps us heal.'
'Pity Tom Bombadil up front hasn't got it, then. He could grow himself a new head when I rip this one off.'
Tom replied, but it was deliberately muffled so Laura couldn't hear.
'Keep walking, old man,' she shouted. 'And watch out for those sudden crevices.'
Not long after, Veitch and Shavi broke off from the others to see if they could catch something for lunch. They were wary of getting lost, so they arranged a meeting place they could easily pick out on the landscape. After an hour of futile tracking for rabbit pellets and scanning the landscape for any sign of game birds, they gave up and rested against a young tree which had been so battered by the wind it resembled a hunched old man.
Veitch cracked his knuckles, then progressed through a series of movements to drive the kinks from his muscles. Shavi watched him languidly.
'Do you want to talk about what has happened to Ruth?' he asked eventually.
'No.'
'You should. It is better to get these things out in the open.'
'You sound like the counsellor my mum and dad dragged me to when I was a kid.'
Shavi laughed gently. 'I am talking as a friend.'
This seemed to bring Veitch up sharp for a second, but then he carried on as before. 'I never thought I'd have a queen for a friend.'
'These times have changed us all.'
Veitch sighed. 'You better not say any of this to the others, all right?'
'Of course not.'
''Cause you're the only one I could talk to about it. Yeah, it's doing my head in, course it is. I thought after going through hell to get her back from the Bastards that would be the end of it. And now this. It cuts me up thinking what she's going through. She doesn't deserve that. She deserves…'
He seemed to have trouble saying what he was thinking so Shavi gently prompted him: 'What?'
'The best. Whatever makes her happy.'
'Even if that is not you?'
Veitch looked away. 'Yeah. I just want her to be happy.' He was lost in thought for a moment, but then his brow furrowed. 'What do you think's going to happen to her?'
'I do not know. I do know we will do our best.'
'I know it looks black, but I just can't believe she's going to die. Everyone thought she was a goner when the Bastards had her. They didn't say it, but I know they did. But I never doubted we'd get her out for a minute. And I reckon we'll do it this time.'
Shavi smiled; there was something heartwarmingly childlike about Veitch beneath his steely exterior. 'You believe in happy endings.'
'Never used to. I do now, yeah.'
A sound like the roar of some unidentified animal thundered across the landscape. They both started, the hairs standing on the back of their necks. Something in the noise made them instantly terrified, as if some buried race memory had been triggered.
'What the fuck was that?' Veitch dropped low to peer all around.
They could see nothing in the immediate vicinity, so they crawled to the top of a slight rise for a broader vista. At first that area too seemed empty, but as their eyes became used to the patterns of light and shade on the landscape they simultaneously picked out a black shape moving slowly several miles away. The jarring sensation in their heads the moment their eyes locked on it told them instantly what it was.
They squinted, trying to pick out details from the shadow, but all they got were brief glimpses of something that seemed occasionally insectile, occasionally like a man. Yet there was no mistaking the dangerous power washing off it.
