'They're back.' Ruth shivered. Somewhere nearby an owl's forlorn hoot keened over the wind. She searched the darkness, but it was impossible to see anything beyond the circle of the fire. 'And this man you called the Bone Inspector told you all this?'
'Some of it.'
'And you believed him straight away?' Church put his head in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. But having seen what Tom called the Fabulous Beast, he knew there was no rational explanation for it. 'So where did all these creatures of myth go for the last millennia or so?'
Church couldn't tell if Tom's silence was because he didn't know or because he didn't want to tell them.
'And what we saw under the bridge and at the service station were some of the things from those days?' Ruth asked hesitantly.
Tom searched for the right words. 'This is how it was told to me: long ago, long before mankind had established itself, there were old races. Beings of tremendous power, understanding of all the secret forces in the universe. They were so incomprehensible to us in their appearance and their actions they could have been gods. They were the source of all our legends. In the Celtic stories, in the sacred traditions of other races and cultures. Even in the Christian heritage.'
'Demons,' Ruth ventured.
'And angels,' Tom continued. 'Folklore is the secret history of this land. There's a bright truth in every story. Look at mediaeval wood carvings. Illustrated religious texts. The stone creatures on some of the churches. Once seen, never forgotten. Over time the old races went into decline and soon the season came for them to move on. They disappeared beyond the veil, supposedly forever. There have been echoes of them down the years-some of the old gods could not leave well alone. Other times their power leaked through, into the ancient places, the sacred places. In all but that they were gone, and the world breathed again, and mankind prospered.' He stared deep into the heart of the flames. 'But now their season has come round again.'
The wind picked up as if in response to his words; Church shivered and pulled his jacket tightly around him. 'If what you're saying is true, and I'm not saying it is, why have they returned now?'
Tom shrugged. 'As I said, everything is cyclical. Perhaps it is simply their time. And perhaps the time of mankind has now passed. Who knows? The rules remain hidden; life is a mystery.'
Church tried to read Tom's face in the hope that he could see the lie, any sign that it was all just a fantasy made up to frighten them; he looked away a moment later in failure.
'But how many of them are there?' Ruth asked.
Tom shrugged. 'Of the larger creatures, the Fabulous Beasts, a handful, I would guess. Many of the wilder mythical creatures, probably the same. I haven't seen an outcry in the media over the last few weeks, so they must be so few as to be able to find hiding places in this over-populated island.'
'And the things that are after us?'
Tom looked down. 'They seem to be everywhere. You saw them-they're shapeshifters. They hide in plain sight. But their skills aren't perfect. If you look close enough, you can see.'
'The skin was too waxy,' Church noted. 'The face looked like a mask.'
'And Gibbons and Kraicow stumbled across them among us,' Ruth said. 'And they both paid the price.'
'They seem to be going to any lengths to prevent themselves from being discovered.'
'Like setting a fire-breathing monster on us just because we went to see Kraicow. With that kind of overreaction they must be scared of being uncovered. What are they planning to do?' Church asked. 'Stay in hiding?'
'I don't think,' Tom mused, 'it's in their nature to stay hidden for long.'
'Then what?' Church said insistently.
'Your guess is as good as mine. But I think there will be some kind of conflict. They appear more powerful than us.'
'Even so,' Church said dismissively, 'what could they do?'
'There's one thing I don't understand,' Ruth said. 'You seemed to be waiting for us at the services, yet we didn't even know we were going to be stopping there ourselves until the last minute.'
'I had a feeling I had to be there.'
'What? You're psychic now?' Church shook his head dismissively.
'Things have changed more than you think,' Tom said coldly. 'How can the rigid laws of physics exist after what we've discussed this evening? Science and magic are incompatible. When the doors opened, it wasn't just the stuff of legends that flooded back into our world-it was a new way of thinking, of existing.'
Ruth looked particularly uncomfortable at that prospect. 'What do you mean?'
'There are some Eastern religions that believe the world is the way it is because we wish it that way,' Tom continued. 'In this new age it will be wished another way. Do you think there will be a place for the old, masculine, ultra-logical, highly-structured way of thinking that has dominated for so long? This will be a time of instinct, of the feminine aspect, of wonder and awe. Science and technology, certainly, will suffer.'
Tom's voice was lulling, hypnotic. In the crackle of the flames, Church could almost hear whispers echoing down the centuries, in their dance he seemed to see faces, dark and alien. It disturbed him too much and he looked back into the impenetrable night.
'You're saying it could be the end of the world as we know it?' Ruth said fearfully.
'It will be a time of change, certainly.' He didn't sound very reassuring.
A cold wind blasted into the clearing, making the fire roar, showering a cascade of sparks upwards. Church had the sudden impression they were being watched. He looked round quickly, trying to see beyond the pathetic circle of light, but the darkness was too dense. Tom threw some more wood on the fire and listened to it sputter and sizzle for a while.
Church eyed Tom suspiciously. 'Sitting here, having seen what we've seen, this all makes a stupid kind of sense. But there's still a part of me that says-'
'That I'm lying? I never lie.' He poked the fire. 'The food should be ready now. Let's eat.'
'It hasn't been in long enough,' Ruth said.
'I think it will be ready.'
'More magic?' Church said.
'That, or good cooking technique.' Tom's smile was inscrutable, and Church was instantly aware he had no idea what was going on behind the man's eyes.
The rabbit was steaming hot, fragrant and tender. They gnawed the meat off the bone with the fire hot on their faces and the chill of the night at their backs. Although it may have been the aftermath of the strange energy, Church was convinced it was one of the best meals he had ever eaten.
Afterwards, as the night grew colder, they huddled closer to the fire, relaxed and replete, the uneasiness forgotten, at least for the moment. Tom picked the remaining meat from his teeth with a twig while he surveyed the position of the stars.
Eventually, he said, 'Everything is changing. You have to be prepared for the new ways … the new, old ways … if you're to be of any use in the coming struggle.'
'But what could we possibly do,' Ruth began, 'if things are as dire as you say? We could try to warn the Government, the police, the army, but I think we'd pretty much be laughed out and locked up.'
'They will not be able to do anything anyway,' Tom said. 'This is a time for individuals, not institutions, for passion not planning.'
'Very poetic,' Church noted. 'But, with all due respect to Ruth … look at us. We're not exactly people of action.'
'Adaptation is the key, and people adapt quicker than groups. If you can learn to work within the new rules, then … perhaps something can be done.' Tom eyed them both with a dissecting look which made Church feel uncomfortable.
Ruth wasn't convinced. 'Two people against the sort of powers that you're talking about? Get real.'
'But we have to do something,' Church said passionately. 'We have a responsibility-'
'A good word,' Tom interjected.
'Don't be so patronising!' Church felt his emotions were on the edge of swinging out of control.
'I apologise,' Tom said, without seeming in the least contrite.
Church grunted with irritation and marched over to lean on the great trilithon. Ruth watched him
