'You know, I almost expected cheers,' Ruth added with a broad grin.
Veitch didn't seem so jubilant. 'Yeah, great, we've just signed our death warrant.'
'Ah, Mr. Glass-Half-Empty,' Laura said coolly. 'Just pick up the damned pieces and let's get out of here.'
They hurriedly gathered up the artefacts, and the moment the last one came out, another door opened up in the wall; they could see blazing sunlight at the end of it.
'How long to sunset?' Veitch asked anxiously.
Church checked his watch. 'Four hours. Lots of time.'
'Depends which way you look at it.' Veitch was already in the tunnel and moving as fast as he could.
Whatever Tom had done, Shavi had recovered slightly when they met up with them, but he was still loose- limbed and dazed. To the curious stares of onlookers, Church and Veitch helped walk him out of the castle and back to the van.
'He's not going to be much use to us tonight,' Church said redundantly.
'He wouldn't be much use if he was normal,' Veitch said sourly. 'So, we going to run for it or make a stand?'
'I vote we run and don't spare the horses,' Laura said hastily.
Veitch was obviously ready for a confrontation. 'And I vote we make a stand. Let's face it, they're going to catch us sooner or later. That's their whole reason for existing.'
'Well, aren't you the macho man. What are you doing to do-flex your biceps and hope they faint?' Laura jabbed him in the sternum with her fingertips, unbalancing him.
Church held out an arm as Veitch advanced angrily. 'He's right,' he said. 'We wouldn't get far if we ran.'
'Then what do you suggest? Wet towels at dawn?'
Church was encouraged to see some real emotion in Laura's blazing eyes; it seemed to be happening more and more. 'We've got four powerful artefacts here. Surely they've got to be some use.'
'What? Use them ourselves?' Laura said.
'It might work.'
'It might work. If we lived in cloud-cuckoo-land.'
'We are supposed to be some kind of champions,' Ruth said.
'Right.' Laura's voice dripped with sarcasm. 'A screwed-up techno head, an old hippie, a woman with a poker up her arse, a drugged-up fey romantic, a murderer and-' she nodded towards Church '-him. Some big fucking champions.'
'So we roll over and die like good little slaves?' Veitch responded angrily.
Laura pulled a face, then walked off. Church waited a moment before following and found her sitting on the grass on the other side of an ice cream van where the attendant was lazing in the back with a copy of the Sun.
'All this is out of our hands now, you know,' he said, sitting down next to her.
Eventually she said, 'I like to have choices.'
He nodded, watching the midges dance in the sunlight. 'I know it's a cliche, but this is bigger than anything we feel. This must be how they felt going off to the Great War. Scared, but with a great sense of responsibility, a feeling of being part of some great … I don't know, destiny.'
'I'm glad you feel that way, because I'm completely ruled by selfpreservation here.'
'You're saying we can't count on you when the chips are down? I don't believe that.'
'You think you know me, do you?' She turned her head away so he couldn't see her expression.
'Yes. I think I know you.'
She thought for a moment, then rolled up her T-shirt so he could see the words scarred into her back.
Church caught his breath, but said nothing for a while. Then, 'Who did that?'
'It doesn't matter who.' She paused. 'Does it make you feel sick to see it?'
'My God, how could someone be so inhuman?' Church said in shocked disbelief.
'There are a lot of sick bastards out there. I said, does it make you feel sick?'
Church gently reached out to touch the scar tissue, then retracted his fingers at the last moment. Laura seemed to sense what he was doing for she leaned in towards him, only slightly, but enough to move into his personal space. Away from the pink cicatrix, her skin seemed unduly soft; he could smell her hair, the faint musk of her sweat from the morning's exertions. And suddenly he had an overwhelming need for physical contact, just to feel humanity and emotion rather than the cold, hard wind of constant threat. He reached out his hand again.
'Stop making goo-goo eyes at each other. We're running out of time.' Veitch was standing at the back of the ice cream van, his expression cold and hard.
Church jumped to his feet. 'Yeah, you're right.' He held out his hand and hauled Laura up; she held on to it for a moment longer than she needed, then withdrew her fingers so softly it was almost a caress.
Back at the van, they decided to find someplace with strong defences where they at least stood a chance of making a stand; if any of them were feeling fatalistic, it didn't show. But when Witch went to turn the key, the engine was dead. 'We can't fucking rely on anything!' he said, hammering his fist on the steering wheel.
Time was running away. It was too dangerous to wait for everything to start working again and then find themselves caught out on the open road. Veitch hit the wheel one final time, then said, 'We'll have to hole up round here.'
'The castle would be perfect,' Ruth noted, 'but there's no way we'll be able to get in there after it's shut up for the night.'
Veitch thought briefly before pointing to a Norman church perched on the opposite side of the valley to the castle. It stood isolated amidst a sea of green fern and small bushes. 'We could do it there. Nobody's nearby to get hurt and we'll be able to see them coming from a long way off. Plus, it's got a wall round the churchyard, which may be nothing, but every little helps.'
Church was impressed by Veitch's tactical vision and at how comfortable he seemed making those sorts of decisions quickly. 'Okay. You're the boss.'
Veitch glanced at him as if he thought Church were mocking him. When he saw that wasn't the case, he looked both bewildered and a little pleased. 'Right, then. I'm the boss.'
They left the van sitting useless in the car park and walked up to the church half an hour before twilight fell so as not to draw attention to themselves. They needn't have bothered; there was no one around for as far as the eye could see, and the church noticeboard said the vicar was shared with other parishes, so there was no reason why they should be disturbed. The weather seemed to be changing to complement the approaching conflict; after the heat of the day, a chill had swept in from the sea, with slate-grey clouds which turned the waves an angry dark blue. They crashed on the stony beach with increasing violence; enormous fountains of gleaming surf cascaded high into the air, filling the valley with the deep bass rumble of angry nature.
They erected a tent in the churchyard for shelter in case it rained, and then halfheartedly chewed a few sandwiches left over from lunch. The thunder started just as the half-light of evening turned to the gloom of night. Veitch lit a handful of storm lanterns they'd bought in Glastonbury and positioned them around the tent.
'You don't think this is going to attract attention?' Ruth said as the first fat drops of rain fell. Away in the dark an owl hooted mournfully and Ruth wondered if it was the same mysterious bird which seemed to have befriended her.
'No one's going to see it, and even if they did, they wouldn't turn out on a night like this.' Church opened the packing crate and examined the three talismans inside; the spear had been lashed to it with a rope from the van and an oily rag tied to disguise the head. After a moment's thought he selected the sword, as surprised at how it felt in his hand as the first time he had touched it; sturdier than it appeared, warm, tingling.
'Let me have the spear,' Ruth said.
'You sure? I was going to give it to Ryan.'
'Why? Because he's a big tough boy and I'm a girl? Besides, he's got his little gun to keep him happy, for all the good it'll do him.'
Church weighed the spear in his hands, then passed it over. He wondered if it might be more effective with Veitch's strength behind it, but he had no doubts about Ruth's bravery.
'Thanks,' she said. 'I'll take that as a vote of confidence. It means a lot to me.' She took the spear and balanced it on her open palms before taking it firmly with a smile. 'Feels good.'
'Ruth Gallagher, warrior woman.'
She laughed. 'I've got so much pent-up frustration and anger I feel like I could take them all down on my
