glow as it attacked, screeching. Church was rooted in horror; Ruth didn't stand a chance.
Her brow knitted slightly, her hand made one insistent cutting action and the intruder collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Filled with questions, Church moved towards her, but when her head snapped in his direction a chill ran through him. She was still caught up in the intensity of the moment, fury locked in her face, so much that she barely recognised him. Her hand lifted, ready to strike out.
'Ruth!'
It took an uneasy second or two for recognition to seep into her coldly glittering eyes. 'The bastard thought he could take me unawares again.' Her voice was drained of energy.
Cautiously, Church approached until he was sure the Ruth he had seen earlier had departed. It wasn't the time to voice his doubts. Instead he asked, 'What is it?'
She levered herself off the bed and crossed the room. 'What is it?' she repeated bitterly. To Church's discomfort she launched a sharp kick at the prone figure. 'He's the bastard that cut off my finger.' She held up her hand to show him the mass of scar tissue that marked the missing digit. 'The bastard that delivered me to the Fomorii and put me through weeks of hell.' She used her foot to roll the intruder on to his back. 'Callow.'
Church started when he saw the figure's face for the first time. It was indeed Callow, but so transformed he was almost unrecognisable. The wild silver hair and dark, shabby suit were still there, but his skin was as dry and white as parchment across which the veins stood out in stark black. Although he was uncon scious, his lidless eyes continued to stare; in his gaping mouth they could glimpse the dark of rotting teeth.
'My God, what have they done to him?' Church knelt down to inspect him, but the sour stench that came off the once-man made him pull back.
'Careful. He'll be awake soon.'
They bound him tightly in the old fishing net that had hung on one wall, then waited for him to come to his senses. It was unnerving to watch his constantly staring eyes, not knowing if he was still unconscious or slyly watching them, but a slight tremor in his facial muscles gave away his waking.
'I ought to kill you,' Ruth said.
'Do it. Put me out of my misery.' He looked away. Tears had formed in the corner of his eyes, but unable to blink them away, he had to wait for them to break.
'Don't try to make us feel sympathy,' Ruth sneered. 'You drained the well dry a long time ago.'
'I don't want sympathy, or pity, or any other pathetic emotion.' It was the voice of a spoiled child. 'I want you dead.'
The curtains flew up like a flock of birds as another gust of wind and rain surged in. 'We were very generous to you when we first met,' Church said.
'I wouldn't look like this if not for you. I wouldn't be on my own, neither fish nor fowl. I can't move amongst people any more, and Calatin will no longer-'
'Calatin's been wiped from all existence by one of his own kind.' Church watched the confused emotions range across Callow's face.
After a moment he began to cry again, slow, silent, juddering sobs that racked his body. 'Then there's nowhere for me!'
Unmoved, Ruth turned to Church in irritation. 'What are we going to do with him?'
The sobbing stopped suddenly. Callow was watching them intently. 'Little pinkies!' He started to giggle at this. 'Five fingers, and I'm taking them one at a time, to pay you back for raising your hand against me! I took your finger, did I not, girlie? Your life should have followed, but I can rectify that, given half a chance. And I have another finger in my collection, too.'
It took a second or two for his meaning to register, and then Ruth flew across the room in fury. 'What do you mean?'
The black veins tattooing his face shifted as his sly smile grew wider. 'One little pinkie, one little life-'
Ruth cut his words short with a hefty blow to the side of his head. Church caught her wrist before she could repeat the assault.
'Temper, temper.' Callow's overly theatrical voice was incongruous against his hideous appearance. Yet when he looked into Ruth's face his arrogance ebbed from him. He muttered something to himself, then stated, 'The long-haired Asian boy, the one as pretty as a girl-'
'Shavi.' The word became trapped in Ruth's throat.
Callow nodded soberly. 'He's dead. Most definitely. I took his life, and his finger, in Windsor Park.'
That last detail was the awful confirmation; Windsor Park had been Shavi's destination in his search for the solution to Ruth's predicament.
Ruth walked to the shattered window where she stood in the full force of the gale, looking out into the night, hugging her arms around her as if to protect her from her sadness. She was such a desolate figure Church wanted to take her in his own arms to comfort her. Instead, he turned his attention to Callow.
The twisted figure giggled again like a guilty schoolboy. Church's overwhelming sorrow began to transmute into a hardened rage. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to ease his emotions by striking out, but he controlled himself.
'I feel sorry for you,' he said to the hunched figure.
That seemed to surprise Callow, who looked upset and then angry. 'The first of five!' he raged. 'You'll all follow!'
Church slipped his arm round Ruth's shoulders; she was as cold and rigid as a statue. The rain was just as icy and stung his eyes shut, but he remained there with her until she slowly moved closer to him.
'Poor Shavi,' she said quietly.
Church recalled his friend's deep, spiritual calmness, his humour and love of life. Shavi had been a guiding light to all of them. 'We mustn't let it drag us down,' he whispered.
Ruth dropped her head on to his shoulder, but said nothing.
They rose at first light after a night in Church's bed, trying to come to terms with Shavi's death. Although they had known him for only a few months, he had affected them both deeply. They felt they had lost much more than a friend.
The seafront was awash with puddles and scattered with the debris deposited by the gales, but it was brighter and clearer than any morning they had experienced since Lughnasadh, with the sun rising in a powder-blue sky and not a cloud in sight. It felt strangely hopeful, despite everything.
Ruth's room, where they had bound and gagged Callow, was reassuringly silent as they passed. No one else was up at that time so they ventured hesitantly to the kitchen for breakfast. Aware of the shortage of food, they toasted a couple of slices of homemade bread each to take the edge off their hunger. While they ate around a heavily scarred wooden table, Church surveyed the jars of tea and coffee on the shelves.
'I wonder what's happening in the rest of the world,' he mused.
'I thought about this.' Ruth eyed the butter, but resisted the urge. 'We get the analogues of Celtic gods because it's part of our heritage, our own mythology. Do you think they got Zeus in Greece, Jupiter in Italy, some Native American gods in America, Vishnu and Shiva or whatever in India? The same beings perceived through different cultural eyes?'
Church shrugged. 'Possibly. What I can't figure out is why Britain is the battleground.'
'With communication down, anything could be happening. The rest of the world might be devastated for all we know.'
Church couldn't take his eyes off the coffee and tea, things taken for granted for centuries. 'The global economy will have crashed. There'll be death on a massive scale famine, disease. No international trade at all. Even here in the UK we've forgotten how to feed ourselves locally. What about in less-privileged areas?'
'Let's look on the bright side: at least all the bankers and moneylenders will be out of a job.'
His laugh was polite and humourless.
'Best not to think about it.' Ruth watched him from the corner of her eye while she chewed on her dry toast, trying to see any signs of the melancholy that had debilitated him too many times in the past. 'Creeping death is the last thing we need to worry about. Everything could be over in the blink of an eye.'
'You're right.' He stood up and stretched.
'I always am. You should know that by now. It's my hobby.' She finished her toast and tried to ignore the
