'Please don't argue,' Ruth said weakly. 'Let's just try to get somewhere quickly.'
They bit their tongues for her sake, although the tension between them had not been given vent since Church had selected Shavi for the mission to Cernunnos. Church knew Laura had been hurt by the decision, but he couldn't understand why she didn't see it as a tactical choice instead of the personal blow she obviously considered it.
The night seemed to come in uncannily quickly, pooling like an inky sea across the countryside, rising rapidly up the tor. They were all too exhausted to look around much more and their calves felt like they were being burnt by hot pokers after the steepness of the climb.
Church was just about to select a campsite at random when he spotted a series of regular dark shapes among the gloom, hidden in a fold in the mountainside. They were too stark to be natural. He led them over to the place amidst Laura's protestations and was surprised to see an abandoned house hidden in the shadows. It looked like an old hill farmer's home, just three stark rooms on a single level. It had obviously been empty for some time; the door sagged on its hinges, the windows had been put out and the inside was strewn with the detritus of the years: a few slates from the roof, Coke cans, plastic bags, old newspapers, a couple of shrivelled condoms.
'Home, sweet home,' Church said, slapping his hand cheerily on the door jamb. 'Hey, I can believe in serendipity.'
'I don't like it.' Ruth stood a few feet back from the shadow the house threw, her arms wrapped around her. She looked it over like it was going to jump out and bite her. 'It's spooky.'
Laura marched past them both. 'Well, I'm sick of tents and if it'll keep the rain and wind off, it's good enough for me.'
'It's a good hiding place.' Church could see he wasn't going to convince Ruth easily. 'Nobody will be able to see us unless they're right on top of us.'
'Look at this.' Laura's voice floated out from the dim interior.
Ruth followed Church in with some trepidation, unsure if it was worse to be outside in the open night. Laura was pointing to a wall lit by the last meagre rays of the sun. It was covered in a mass of writing, some in huge letters, but vast swathes in an almost microscopic scrawl; most of it seemed unintelligible.
'Kids,' Church said.
Laura leaned forward to try to read the tiny print. 'They really don't have much to do round here, do they?'
Ruth stood in the corner, her arms still wrapped around her. From the corner of his eye, Church could see her gaze jumping back and forth, as if she was expecting something to come out of the corners of the room. 'I feel like something bad has happened here,' she said.
And at that moment the sun set and darkness claimed the land.
The rain started as Tom and Veitch reached the lowland slopes with twilight drawing in. By the time they had arrived at a main road, their clothes were soaked through and their hair was plastered to their heads; it was a hard, unforgiving downpour, uncommonly chill for that time of year. The cars hissed by, steaming in the spray, their headlights blazing paths through the night. Most of them were driving too fast for the conditions, desperate to get to the safety of their destinations before the deep night encroached.
After long deliberation during their walk, Tom and Witch had decided to eschew the established policy of tramping through the wilderness. With only two of them, they felt they could move quicker and with a greater chance of being unseen by picking up a vehicle and following the main roads north, at least up to the Scottish Highlands.
But after forty-five minutes standing on the roadside in the splash zone they began to question their choice. No one was prepared to stop to pick up a hardfaced, muscular young man and his older companion who looked like he'd done too many drugs.
'We're going to be here all bleedin' night.' Veitch's voice was thin with repressed anger as a Volvo hurtled by in a white glare and a backwash that showered him from the waist down. 'This was a stupid idea.'
Tom removed his glasses to wipe the droplets off them for the third time in as many minutes. He kept his attention fixed on the stream of traffic.
'It's hardly bleedin' surprising, though, is it? We could be anything here. Everyone must know by now you can't trust stuff at face value. Once we were in the car we could tear their faces off.' He took a perfectly timed step back to avoid the splash from a Golf. 'I haven't seen this much traffic for ages. Probably 'cause it's a main route. Safety in numbers and all that. I bet the back roads are deserted-'
'You're talking too much.'
'Nerves, all right? I'm worried about Ruth.'
Tom stuck out his thumb once more with undiminished optimism.
'We don't stand much chance of winning now, do we?' Veitch continued. 'I mean, I'm still staying hopeful we can help Ruth, but what's inside her…' He looked into the middle distance. 'If it finds its way back, what's it going to be like?'
Tom didn't seem to hear him at first. Then he said, 'When Balor led the Fomorii across the land in the first times, it was said daylight was driven from the land. In the eternal night there was only the stink of burning flesh and the rivers ran red with blood. Humanity was driven to the fringes of existence.' His pause was filled with the rushing of the wind and the rain. 'If he returns once more, there is no hope for anything.'
Veitch chewed this over while the cars sped past, and when he spoke again it was as if it hadn't even been mentioned. 'How long are you planning on sticking it out here before you realise nobody's going to help us? Come on. We better find some shelter.'
'People haven't changed. There are still some who'll help out a fellow in need.'
'Yeah-' Veitch began cynically, just as a 2CV indicated and pulled over sharply.
The passenger door opened on to a man in his early thirties, his face surprisingly open and smiling. His cheeks were a little chubby, his eyes heavy-lidded beneath badly cut jet-black hair which made him look more like a boy.
'Where are you going?' he said loudly over the white noise and rumble of the road sounds.
Tom leaned in. 'As far north as you can take us.'
'Okay. Hop in.'
Veitch clambered into the back, scrubbing the excess moisture out of his hair, while Tom took the front. It was only when they were both settled that they saw their driver was wearing a dog collar.
'You must be mad hitching at this time, in this weather,' the driver said as he pulled away.
'Needs must.' Tom glanced at him askance. 'We were counting on a Good Samaritan,' he added wryly.
'There're still a few of us around.' The driver laughed. 'Actually, I had selfish motivations too. I wanted some company.' He stuck a hand out sideways. 'I'm Will.'
Tom and Witch introduced themselves, then fell silent, but Will was keen to talk. 'I've been down to London. Came down yesterday and stayed overnight. I've got a parish in Newcastle. Rough area, good people though. I'd be the first to admit it's been a struggle. Still, the last few months have been a struggle for all of us, haven't they?'
'There's been some trouble up there, hasn't there?'
A rawness sprang to Will's face and he shifted uncomfortably; he didn't appear to want to talk about that. 'They've closed off part of the city. Terrible business. Terrible. But that's nothing new today, is it? Have you heard any news about what's happening?'
'Only what we've seen with our own eyes.' Tom was enjoying the warmth of the heater on his feet.
'They say the Government is on the verge of giving up the ghost. Apparently they've set up a coalition, a Government of National Purpose. As if that will do any good. They're all politicians, aren't they?'
'Anybody who seeks out power should never be allowed to have it,' Tom agreed.
'I don't think they've any idea what's going on at all.'
'Does anybody? Do you?' Tom watched him curiously. He seemed a little naive and idealistic, like many younger clerics.
'Nobody knows the details, but we have all seen what we've seen. We know science is on the back foot. What should we call it-the supernatural, the strange, the wondrous? Those who believed in that kind of thing always struggled to identify it on the periphery of life. Now it's right there at the heart.'
'I would suppose,' Tom noted, 'that you were one of those believers. Being a clergyman and all.'
Will grew quiet, his face lost in the shadows between street lights. After a moment's contemplation he said,
