difference.'
'Is that irony? We've lost everything we've fought for, and Laura … Christ, I can't believe that.'
Tom looked away for a long moment. When Church glanced up to see why he was so quiet, he saw sweat standing out on Tom's brow and shivers rippling though him, as if someone were shaking his shoulders.
'What is wrong with you?' Church said with a lack of sympathy he instantly regretted. 'Have you got some kind of illness you're not telling us about?'
Tom took a moment to compose himself, then said hoarsely, 'None of your business.' He took another drink of his chocolate and continued as if nothing had happened. 'Callow is obviously working for one or the other of the Fomorii tribes-as a backup to the Wild Hunt for Calatin in case of their failure, or as a chanter for Mollecht, hoping to snatch the talismans during the confusion of any of our conflicts with Calatin's agents.'
'He seemed fine when we met him in Salisbury.'
Tom shrugged. 'Perhaps they got to him after then. That's immaterial. The point is to reach him before he hands over the talismans to whomever controls him. And I believe I know how to do that.'
'How?'
'In the current climate, the Lake District will be one of the most dangerous areas in the country. Lakes are liminal zones, as I told you, doorways between here and there, and with so many lakes the place will be overpopulated with all the misbegotten creatures of Otherworld. Certainly a place where it's too threatening to travel at night.'
Church sipped his tea, wincing at the bitterness. 'Go on.'
'That would also make it a prime spot for the Fomorii. Callow must be travelling there. If we knew where he was going we could intercept him.'
'But we don't know where he's going.'
'There's a place called Loadpot Hill overlooking Ullswater. It has always held a peculiar attraction for the Fomorii. They'll make the handover somewhere near there.'
'How do you know that?'
'I just do.'
Church searched his face; as usual, there was something Tom was not telling him, but he had learned to trust Tom's silences, if not to appreciate them.
'There are plenty of other things out there beyond the Fomorii, so it will still be dangerous for Callow to travel over the fells at night. I would guess he will probably take the best-lit route rather than the most obvious. We might be able to beat him to the road to the hill where we can cut him off.'
'By the dangerous, direct route? You expect me to sell that to the others?'
'At this stage we have to take risks.'
Tom headed off to the toilet, leaving Church alone to finish his coffee. For some reason he hadn't been able to get warm for the last couple of days, even though he was wearing a T-shirt, shirt, sweater and jacket buttoned tightly. He hoped he wasn't coming down with something.
Despite Tom's claims, the first mile or so from the motorway into the heart of the Lake District was uneventful. Although they saw no other traffic, they passed houses with lights gleaming through chinks in drawn curtains and caught the occasional whiff of smoke from their hearths. But then it was as if they had passed an invisible boundary. Odd, lambent lights moved across the fells that provided the district with its magnificent backdrop, and as they travelled down from the heights, will o' the wisps danced deep in the thick forests that crowded the road. Things were caught in the corner of their eyes which they never saw full on, but could tell instinctively were inhuman. And at one point something flying that seemed half-bat, half-human baby was caught briefly in the headlights before slamming into the side of the van with a hefty clang and a sickeningly childish shriek.
'Don't stop for anything,' Tom said as if any of them had entertained the idea. 'Keep your foot to the floor.'
They all remained silent, eyes fixed on the scenery flashing past, apart from Laura, who was drifting in and out of consciousness; at times she seemed so delirious Church feared seriously for her well-being.
But the shortcut Tom suggested seemed to work; when Church next checked the Wayfinder, it was clearly indicating the talismans were behind them. Finally Tom ordered Shavi to pull over on a shadowy lay by beside the lonely road which wound its way around a hillside halfway up the slope. 'You sure?' Veitch said, peering into the thick woods on both sides. 'Why is this place any safer than anywhere else we've just driven through?'
Tom shrugged. 'I never said it was. But this will be the best place to wait to intercept him.' He motioned away to the west. 'Loadpot Hill is over there. This is the nearest road to it and it ends a little further up the way.'
Veitch didn't seem convinced. 'We can't see anybody sneaking up on us here.'
'If we keep the doors locked, we can drive off if anything comes near,' Ruth suggested hopefully.
Tom shook his head. 'We need to keep watch at the bend in the road. We can pull the van out to block the road at the last minute before he sees us.'
'And you think somebody's going to volunteer to go out there on lookout?' Veitch said.
'We should all go,' Church said. 'Safety in numbers.'
'I should stay here, ready to pull out when the car comes,' Shavi said.
'There will be plenty of time to get back and behind the wheel when we see the headlights,' Tom replied.
'What about Laura?' Ruth stroked a couple of stray hairs from her forehead.
'She'll be fine here with the doors locked.' Church turned to Tom. 'How will we know his vehicle?'
'It'll be the only one on the road in this place at this time.'
'You have all the answers.' Church became even more aware of the chill once the engine was switched off. He wished he had the sword with him. As he opened the rear doors and jumped out, he felt as defenceless as if he had both hands tied together.
The others followed him silently, with Veitch on his guard at the rear, his eyes constantly searching. They took up position at the bend in the road, although it was impossible to stand still for too long; wherever they were, their backs were to the dark, brooding trees, which made them all feel uncomfortable. Several times they turned with the unmistakable feeling that someone was just behind them.
Tom had been correct; the vantage point allowed them a clear view of anyone approaching. Veitch repeatedly complained they were too far from the van until Ruth threatened to shove him in front of Callow's vehicle if he didn't shut up.
Despite the danger, Church felt a tingle of wonder when he opened himself up to their surroundings. He had never experienced a night so silent-no drone of cars or distant rumble of planes, and the air had the clear, fresh tang of the pine trees, as if all the pollution had been drained from it. It was so intoxicating it seemed unnatural-an irony that was not lost on him-and he wondered if it was another by-product of the change.
Their conversation dried up quickly, until the only sound that punctuated the silence was the stamping of their feet to keep warm. They never lowered their guard for a second, even though they kept watch for the better part of an hour. But instead of getting used to their situation, the atmosphere of menace increased gradually until it became so claustrophobic Ruth complained that she felt like being sick.
'Tell you what, I could shoot his windscreen out,' Veitch suggested. Church could tell from the timbre of his voice that he was only speaking because he couldn't bear the now-unpleasant silence any longer.
'Guns are so symptomatic of the worst of what went before,' Shavi said. 'They do not have a place in this new age. I feel the more we rely on the old ways, the more likely we are to bring something terrible down on our heads.'
'What, more terrible?' Church said.
'I'm sick of people moaning about how bad guns are,' Veitch said. 'What, you think we should go back to swords? Have you seen what damage they can do?'
'Have you?' Ruth snapped.
After a pause, Veitch replied, 'No, but I can guess.'
Ruth was about to attack this line of reasoning when she suddenly did a double take at Tom. 'You're bleeding,' she said.
Blood was trickling from both his nostrils. Tom dabbed at it with his fingertips and then examined them
