was built. A cast-iron bootscraper stood next to it, alongside a broom made of a branch with twigs bound for bristles.
Although she felt frantic, Ruth knocked on the door as calmly as she could, so as not to frighten whoever lived there. The inhabitant must have heard her run round the house, for the curtain at the window next to the door twitched in an instant; Ruth caught a glimpse of glittering eyes in a woman's face before the curtains fell back.
But still no one came to the door. The nerve-jangling cry of the Baobhan Sith sounded just beyond the garden wall on the other side of the cottage now. There wasn't time to flee anywhere else.
Ruth hammered on the door with all her strength and this time it did swing open. The woman was in her late fifties, her hair long and silver and tied at the back with a black ribbon. Her cheeks bloomed with the broken capillaries of life in the cold Lake District gales. She stood several inches shorter than Ruth, but she was just as slim and elegant. For a split-second she searched Ruth's face, and what she found there must have been agreeable, for she grabbed Ruth's wrist tightly to drag her inside, slamming the door behind her. Three iron bolts shot across an instant later.
Ruth sucked in a lungful of air. 'There's something out there-'
'I know what's out there,' the woman barked. 'Come away from the door!'
They were inside the woman's sitting room, which was spartanly decorated. It was lusciously warm from a log fire banked up in the wide stone hearth. A cracked and aged dresser stood against one wall and a similarly ancient dining table against the other, on which were arrayed a collection of corked pot containers; the contents of a few-seeds and dried herbs-were scattered around. Other herbs hung in bunches from the rafters creating a heady, perfumed atmosphere. A rush mat lay on the flags near the fire, but the only other item of furniture was a heavy wooden armchair with a floral cushion right next to the hearth. A sandy cat was curled up next to it.
'We could barricade ourselves upstairs. Try to keep them out till dawn-' Ruth began.
'They won't even know we're here if we don't draw attention to ourselves.' The woman watched Ruth suspiciously, her eyes still glittering in the light of the fire. 'What are you doing around these parts at this time? It's no longer safe to travel by night-nor even by day, really.'
'I didn't have any choice,' Ruth replied. The full force of what had happened hit her and she rested against the back of the armchair, placing one hand over her eyes to try to clear the image of the Baobhan Sith attacking Church, Shavi and Veitch. When she'd blinked away the tears a moment later, she brought her hand down and noticed the woman was staring at it intently.
She suddenly lurched forward and grabbed Ruth's wrist, turning her arm over so the palm was uppermost. The mark Cernunnos had scorched into her flesh was revealed in the firelight.
'Goddess!' The suspicion drained from the woman's face and was replaced by awe. When she looked up into Ruth's face, her features were now open and smiling. 'These are very strange times. Sit! I'll brew up a pot.'
'There's no time!' Ruth protested.
'There's always time. I've cast a spell of protection on this place. It's invisible to any of those hideous things crawling around out there these days. But we can't go out until the ones after you have gone or they'll have us in a moment. Times when you can relax are few-grab hold of them!'
Ruth reluctantly allowed herself to be pressed into the armchair, but her thoughts were in chaos and she felt a desperate urge to run away, even though there was nowhere she could go. The heat from the fire was comforting after the attack, but still she felt like crying after the strain of it all; everything seemed to be going wrong; Tom betraying them was one blow too much.
'It's all a bloody awful mess!' she said, her voice breaking. 'No. I've got to help them!' She jumped up and ran to the window. Outside, the Baobhan Sith roamed, their wild eyes ranging over the vicinity. Ruth knew she wouldn't get five yards from the door. Dejectedly, she trudged back to the fireside.
'Cheer up, lovie. It's always darkest.' The woman hung a blackened kettle over the fire, then placed two mugs, a strainer, a tin of tea leaves and some milk and sugar on a tray with the pot. 'I'm Nina, by the way.'
'Ruth.' She rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. 'What's all this about a spell of protection?' she added wearily. 'It seems like everybody can do something they shouldn't these days.'
Nina laughed. 'You're right there. I spent ten years studying the Craft, working on spells and rituals. Sometimes they worked, or seemed to work, in a halfhearted way, but very rarely. It always seemed more like wishful thinking on my part. And then just after Christmas it was like I'd had an electric charge! I could do things I never dreamed of? It was …'-she laughed again-'… magic!'
'Everything's changed,' Ruth said morosely.
'Oh, indeed. At first I thought it was just me, like after all this time I'd suddenly chanced on the knack. But then I saw what was happening all around and I knew it wasn't me at all. It was the world.' She noticed the gloom in Ruth's face. 'It's not all bad-just different. The magic is back. How it probably was centuries ago. That's a cause for celebration.'
'You really can do stuff?'
'Not great, world-changing things. Just the skills we were always reputed to have. Controlling the weather, communing with the birds and animals, making potions that work. It's the link, you see. With nature. It's solid now.' She pointed at Ruth's hand. 'But you should know. You're one of us. Greater than me, certainly. That's the mark of the Horned Hunter, consort of the Mother Goddess.'
Ruth shook her head. 'I don't know what you're talking about. I've never been into all this.'
There was an unmistakably dismissive note in Ruth's voice, but Nina wasn't offended. 'Your brain may not know, but it's there inside you. Or you wouldn't have received the mark. You're a wisewoman, no mistake. You just need to learn and apply yourself.'
'With all due respect, I can't see myself doing, you know, whatever it is you do. I'm a lawyer.'
Nina laughed. 'What, you think only embittered old crones like me get to learn the Craft?'
'I didn't mean-'
Nina silenced her with a goodnatured wave of her hand. 'The only qualification is being a woman. And probably having a natural aptitude for the necessary skills. Take me-I wasn't always how you see me. I just happened to like the traditional lifestyle.' She motioned around the room. 'I used to be in medical supplies. Worked all the hours given to build up the business. Then my Ralph was taken suddenly. Brain tumour. He didn't suffer long.' She fell silent for a moment, the weight of memories adding age to her face. 'After that, work didn't seem important. There wasn't much of my life that did.' She smiled sadly. 'It's terrible, isn't it, that it takes a tragedy to point out that all the things we trick ourselves into relying on in our lives have no substance? We have to have something to believe in-it's the way we're made. But once work and the family disappear, you start to wonder what there really is to have faith in. I fell into the old religion. At first it just made me feel good. Then it started to feel right. Now I can't imagine being without it.'
Ruth watched her as she used a teacloth to lift the hissing kettle from the fire. She warmed the pot, then put in the tea leaves, adding a pinch of spice from a dish on the side. 'My own special recipe,' she said conspiratorially. 'Gives it a little kick. It's how they drink it in the Middle East.'
'What's it like to be able to make things happen?' Ruth asked as she took her mug. 'It's the kind of thing you always dream about as a child.'
'Well, it's not like any of that fairybook stuff,' Nina replied a little brusquely. 'You can't just wish and make things happen. It's all about controlling energy-the invisible energy of the world. I always saw it as a science that the physicists haven't got round to explaining yet.' She smiled at the curiosity in Ruth's face.
As the fire blazed and as they sipped their spiced tea, Nina explained about the Craft while Ruth attempted to batten down her anxiety and desperation; she wanted to be doing something, not listening to old stories. When Nina mentioned the triple deity of mother, maiden, crone, though, Ruth's heart quickened as she connected with her visions of the mysterious girl.
She related her experience to Nina who smiled and said, 'See. You were called long before you realised. And probably a long time before that.'
'There was an owl-'
Nina nodded towards the cat on the hearth. 'We all have our friends.'
Ruth stared into her tea, trying to divine her feelings about what she was hearing. The stubborn streak of scepticism her father had instilled in her as a girl was still there, but her instinct was beginning to shout louder.
'Look, this is all too much to get my head round right now. I can't stay here talking. There's got to be
