cannot plan to create the storm. No one can predict the repercussions in a complex system. In the end, all you can do is trust your heart and hope.'
'Then why are you so upbeat? It could all be trending towards misery.'
'Because if you examine your own life, you will see that the universe is kindly and that it does its best to help you.'
'Laura's right. You really are an old hippy.' Mallory sipped his ale, thoughtfully. 'So nobody knows anything, and we just trust our instincts?'
'Our hearts.'
'I wish I'd had somebody like you on our team to keep the morale up.'
'Hal would have fulfilled that role if he had not become part of the Blue Fire.'
'Be kind of good to get him back.' Mallory stirred uneasily. 'I still don't understand why there's only four of us. Every other team gets five, but us…' He shrugged. 'I keep expecting somebody new to walk through the door. I can't shake the feeling that something's missing.'
'Perhaps it was simply meant to be that your team has only four members.'
'Why? I don't get it.'
'That is my point. We cannot see the patterns. We can only trust that things will work out for the best.'
'I really wish I could see the world like you do, Shavi. I just feel… sad.'
'We all have our pain, Mallory, because in the vast, indecipherable pattern we are all insignificant, while at the same time we are each and every one hugely significant, for our actions, small and large, make up that very pattern. We are threads in the warp and the weft.'
In the centre of the room, Caitlin danced alone, lost to herself, the Morrigan's love of sex and life evident in each seductive movement.
Loading his plate with roast meat, Veitch ignored the pointed stares of the other Brothers and Sisters of Dragons from across the ages. They milled around the hall as they tried to avoid being dragged into Decebalus's ribald revelry as he stalked back and forth, swilling ale by the flagon while indulging in outrageous flirting to make Aula jealous.
For much of the evening, Church and Ruth had been involved in intense conversation, but they broke off to join Veitch as he made his way over to Shavi and Mallory.
'You know how to throw a good party,' Church said.
'One of the perks when you get your own Great Court,' Mallory replied.
'I still can't believe the Tuatha De Danaan let you take over.' Ruth laughed.
'They owed me big time.'
Church surveyed the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons with pride. 'They seem like a great crew, from what I can tell. Brave, fierce — we'll do well with them on our side.'
'Would you expect the Pendragon Spirit to choose any other?' Shavi said.
'You think they're formidable, you wait till you see the gods,' Mallory said with a sly smile. 'Norse, Greek, Chinese, the whole terrifying, insane collection.'
'Where are they?' Ruth asked.
'We've got them in their own separate camps outside the city walls. If you think the Tuatha De Danaan are fractious when they get together, you really don't want to see this lot mixing with time on their hands. They'd be at each other's throats in a second.'
'Imagine them side by side on the battlefield,' Church said. 'Whatever troops the Void can throw at us are going to be up against it.'
'As long as our lot don't kill each other first.'
The revelry was disrupted by the crash of the main door slamming open. In staggered Ronnie Kelly, a Brother of Dragons in a field uniform from the Great War, his expression devastated. He flailed for a moment before raising his hands in a silent plea. They were covered in blood.
'Murder,' he eventually stuttered. 'There's been a murder!'
The band came to a sudden halt. Church, Veitch and Mallory raced towards Ronnie before the others realised what he was saying. In one of the branching corridors off the main approach to the hall, a woman in a pink satin Georgian dress was sprawled, eyes wide open. A neat hole had been punched in the centre of her forehead.
'Marie,' Mallory mouthed. All he could think of was her accusation the previous day that he had attacked her. Haunted, he dropped to his knees to check her pulse, though it was clear she was dead.
Angry voices rose up from a small crowd of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons further down the corridor. A man in a Georgian morning suit pointed an accusing finger at Veitch. 'He did it. He killed our Marie.'
'No.' Church stepped quickly between Veitch and the group. 'He's been with us all the time. Don't jump to conclusions.'
'Why not?' The man brushed away a stray tear. 'That is what he does.'
Fearing they would attack Veitch, Shavi held up his hand and drew all attention to him. On the periphery of his vision, his alien eye glimpsed hidden shapes, and amidst the dislocation, he heard the distant whispers of the Invisible World. 'The murderer is still here in the palace. And more… We are under great threat!'
'Fan out across the palace,' Church said. 'Stick to the core groups that Decebalus has defined for you. Nobody goes alone.'
Reluctantly, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons moved off along the echoing corridors.
'This wasn't me,' Veitch said, eyeing the body.
'We know,' Church replied. 'I was stupid to think the Enemy would give us time to regroup. Come on.'
Shavi followed Church, Veitch, Ruth and Laura along the corridor. Mallory, Hunter and Caitlin headed for the stairs to the next level. As the groups separated, Shavi heard a rasping, unfamiliar voice issuing from Caitlin that chilled him to the bone. It said, 'Death is circling. Blood will come!'
9
Navigating the deserted, barely lit upper reaches of the palace was not easy. Hunter led the way with a torch snatched as they climbed the stairs in the east tower. To his left, Mallory's sword provided its own blue light to guide them, while at the rear, the Morrigan had risen in Caitlin, who now moved like a jungle cat. The possession brought physical change too, her eyes becoming a deeper black, her muscles tauter. Gripping her axe effortlessly, she appeared to hear things beyond even her comrades' sharpened perceptions.
Climbing the last flight of stairs, they entered an echoing loft space beneath the ancient oak rafters that supported the palace's pitched roof. Sleeping birds rested on every beam and in every nook and cranny above their heads, the floor white with their excrement.
Caitlin rested an unnaturally cold hand on Hunter's shoulder, her head half-cocked as she listened. 'There's someone up ahead.'
'You need to get yourself a sword,' Mallory said.
'Don't you worry about me,' Hunter replied. 'Now, who loves the stink of bird droppings enough to hide out up here?'
The loft area branched right and then broke off in three directions over the palace's wings. As they reached the junction, an ear-splitting, high-pitched shriek ripped out of the dark. The birds erupted from their roosts, driving Mallory, Hunter and Caitlin apart as they surged around the enclosed space.
One glimpse of Caitlin wielding her axe in a cloud of feathers and blood reached Mallory before he was driven away by talons and beaks, bodies battering him like stones. Disoriented by the beat of wings, he staggered back until he felt the wall against his shoulder.
Amidst the chaos he glimpsed a figure ahead, seemingly unmoved by the storm: a woman's hair, a cheek, an eye. In the gradual accumulation of information, a deep cold ran through him, driving out all rational thought. He propelled himself through the birds towards her.
His worst fears were confirmed: a woman in her late twenties stood before him, blond hair tied back, face weary from too much struggle too soon. A woman from his old life, before he was a Brother of Dragons, forced to endure an atrocity of Mallory's making that ironically set him on the path to becoming who he was.
