'Right. And I'll do it in style. With a choir of bleedin' angels!'
Tom muttered something indecipherable, but patently irritable. Veitch swore at him playfully, laughed when Tom bit, then broke open another amphora of wine.
'You know, I miss technology less than I thought,' Ruth said, lounging back on one of the enormous cushions. 'But one thing I could do with now is a CD player, or a tape deck… anything that gives music.' She eyed Church with faux contempt. 'As long as I don't have to listen to any Sinatra.'
He laughed. 'Shame. I could come up with a good soundtrack for all this.' He thought for a moment. 'How about `That Old Black Magic' from Come Swing with Me! followed by `It's Nice to Go Trav'ling-
Ruth covered her face.
'No, no, something soulful. Spiritual,' Shavi said. 'Curtis Mayfield. Perhaps Van Morrison-'
'Geezer music,' Veitch said. 'I never thought I'd say this, but I wish Laura was here. She might have been a pain in the arse most of the time, but musically she kept you music fans in your pen.'
Shavi looked towards the tent flap. 'I still expect her to walk in at any moment.'
An outcry outside brought them all to their feet. They rushed out into the cold night to see the Tuatha De Danann in a state of excitement around one of the campfires.
Church grabbed one of the gods by the shoulder. 'What's going on?'
The god was shocked that he had been accosted by a Fragile Creature, but he appeared aware of Church's reputation. 'The Norta has been seen! And her sisters too!'
'What's that?'
The god struggled for the right words in his excitement. 'The one your people called the Morrigan.'
A hand fell on Church's shoulder and he turned to face Baccharus, equally animated. 'A great portent, my friend. The Morrigan is one of our own, but she prefers her own company, or that of her sisters, Macha, Badb and Nemain. They have not been seen by the Golden Ones since the first days after the pact. But they are drawn to war… and… and bloodshed… and…'-he attempted to speak in a manner Church could understand, but he struggled with a word that was still alien to him-'death. The Dark Sisters are fearsome, both in what they represent and in their prowess. The Morrigan and her clan helped us win both battles of Magh Tuireadh. Undoubtedly, her appearance is a good omen.'
'Where is she?' Church scanned the campsite, eager to see a figure of such reputation.
'The Dark Sisters will not come into the light.' Baccharus raised his head to the gleaming moon. 'Macha, Badb and Nemain were seen circling the camp earlier. They wore the armour of war.'
'And the Morrigan?'
'There is a stream nearby. In it she was seen washing the heads of those who are to die in the forthcoming battle. The Morrigan keeps count of those who move from existence.'
Church flashed back to a cold February night before he had any inkling of the terrible change that had come over the world. It was the Morrigan he had seen washing his own head in the Thames. His throat closed up when he thought how she had turned and looked at him, with a face that appeared like death itself. But another worry crept up on him: was that portent referring to his previous death on Skye or was she revealing what lay in store for him in the Battle of London?
'Tell me,' he said, 'did your people see the heads?'
Baccharus knew exactly what he was asking. 'I cannot lie. There were Fragile Creatures.'
Church's blood ran cold. 'Who was it?'
'No!' Tom strode over, his face cold and hard. 'Do not tell him! It would not help for anyone to know they are going to die. Hope is the engine of success.'
Church studied his face carefully. Tom didn't meet his eyes. 'You know who's going to die, don't you? You've always known.'
Tom fixed an eye on Church that made his stomach turn. 'Yes. Pity me for it.' He turned and marched away without another word.
Church felt sick. He looked round at the others, who were talking to another of the Tuatha De Danann; none of them had heard the exchange. In that instant he understood exactly what Tom was going through. He couldn't tell them one of them was destined to die; it was a burden he would have to carry himself.
The sadness came up quicker and harder than he anticipated as he watched the people who had become his best friends over the last few months. He couldn't imagine being without any of them, even though that had been a constant from the moment they had banded together. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to which of them he would miss the least, and that made him feel even worse.
Dismally, he turned back to Baccharus, who deftly changed the conversation. 'True Thomas is a good man. Do not blame him for being the bearer of bad news.'
'We never got on at the start. I thought he was manipulating us. That he was cold and patronising and arrogant. I wish I'd been better to him.'
'True Thomas has accepted his responsibility. He does not expect anything from you.'
'That makes it even worse.'
A whistling like an incoming missile passed overhead. Church looked up to see the terrifying form of a woman pass by, her hair as wild as winter, her black clothes streaming off her in rags, her mouth torn wide as she made the anguished noise. He shivered as her shadow passed over him.
'Badb, Queen of Crows,' Baccharus said.
'I'm glad she's on our side.'
He watched the other figures moving across the sky for a while, but the night was too cold to stay for long. Returning to the warmth of the tent, he found the others already in deep conversation, though Tom was nowhere to be seen. Their faces showed the mood had darkened.
'We were talking about the traitor,' Ruth said as he entered.
'I don't want suspicion causing any rifts at this critical stage.'
'Yeah, but we've got to be on our guard.' Veitch was repeatedly unwrapping, then rewrapping the cloth around the stump of his wrist. Church knew his mind was working through numerous strategies, dismissing some, rethinking others. He was still drunk, but he was now brooding, and it was easier to see the anger that always lay just beneath the surface. 'We've come through all this shit together, trusted each other. If I found out one of us had been playing the others just to sell them out, I'd kill them.'
'Ryan!' Ruth said.
'I find it hard to believe one of us could be a traitor.' Shavi looked around them, as honest and open as always. 'We come from different backgrounds. We are all different people, with nothing, superficially, in common. Yet we have seen into each other's souls. We are good people, all of us, at heart. I trust my instinct implicitly. I cannot see anything in any of us that suggests betrayal.'
'Exactly.' Church sat down close to Ruth, then became aware of Veitch watching him curiously. He shuffled away an inch or two. 'I can't pretend it hasn't bothered me, but we all know how much the dead love to twist things. Who knows what they really meant?'
Veitch took a knife and diced an apple into four quarters. 'I'm still going to be watching my back.'
The conversation drifted to lighter subjects, but they never caught the uplifting mood of celebration again. Just after one a.m., when the sounds of revelry from the camp had died down, the growing quiet was disturbed by the distant blast of a horn. It was barely audible, but it brought a chill to them all. A second or two later it sounded again, much closer to hand, followed by the fearsome baying of hounds.
'The Wild Hunt,' Shavi said.
Ruth fingered the mark that had been imprinted on her hand. 'Cernunnos is joining us. That's good news.'
'Right. He's obviously on the side of us Fragile Creatures.' Even so, Church couldn't shake the fear he felt at the god's Erl-King aspect. He would never forget how the Hunt had torn through the revellers leaving the pub on Dartmoor: so brutal, yet cold, like a force of nature.
They fell silent with their thoughts until they heard the sound of two pairs of footsteps approaching the tent. They waited for the flaps to be thrown back, but the visitors slipped in quietly. The tall one at the rear was the Bone Inspector, his greying hair matted with grease and filth hanging loosely around his shoulders. His cheesecloth shirt was covered with green stains.
The shorter one at the front wore a cloak with a hood pulled over her head, but Church immediately knew
