curiously.
'Hang on, can you hear something?' Veitch began to look around anxiously, but the night seemed as silent as ever.
Church became aware of the unpleasant expression on Tom's face. It didn't seem to be a reaction to his nosebleed; more as if he were struggling with some terribly disconcerting thoughts. 'Are you okay?' he asked. 'Is it the illness again?'
Tom looked at him with an inexplicable expression of such horror Church fell instantly silent.
'There is something,' Veitch said insistently. 'Listen!'
'Will you shut up!' Ruth snapped. 'There's nothing! You're just winding everybody up!'
Tom choked, raised his hand to his mouth. Church noticed with alarm there were now trickles of blood at the corners of his eyes, and another seeping out of his left ear. 'Jesus!' he said. 'What's wrong with you?'
'Wait!' Shavi said. 'Ryan is right. There is something.' The two of them were looking with concern all around.
Ruth glared at both of them, then looked to Church for support. 'Is everybody going mad?'
Church turned to the van, thinking of Laura. It did seem too far away. 'Maybe we should move back that way a little,' he suggested.
Tom pitched forward, clutching his head. Blood spattered on to the road surface. Kneeling like a dog, he retched and hawked as if something was stuck in his throat.
Anxiety transfixed Veitch's face. Ignoring Tom, he gripped Church's shoulders. 'Let's get out of here. Something bad is going to happen.'
'I agree,' Shavi said.
But Church was already crouching down next to Tom, one arm around his shoulders. 'We have to get help for him. This looks serious.'
'Church?'
Ruth's quizzical, faintly unnerved voice caught Church's attention more than anything the others could have done. He looked up into her face, now pale and troubled.
'I can hear it,' she said edgily.
And then he could too. It was reedy, high-pitched, almost beyond the audible range, jarring in its intensity. A queasy sensation bubbled in his stomach. It reminded him of the cry of sea birds, yet continuous, and with a vague, uneasy human quality that was intensely disturbing.
'What is that?' he said, rising to his feet, Tom now forgotten.
'Look.' Shavi had walked ahead of them a few paces to peer into the trees on the upward slope. 'Is there something in there?'
'I said let's get out of here!' Veitch snapped.
Shavi was correct; shadows seemed to be flitting amongst the trees, oddly lighter in quality than the surrounding gloom.
Tom made another stomach-churning retching sound deep in his throat. Droplets of blood were flying everywhere.
'Why won't he shut up?' Ruth cried uncharitably. Her fearful thoughts played out on her face.
We should run, Church thought, but the shadows' strange movements and the shrieking sound that was emanating from them were so hypnotic he was rooted to the spot.
The shapes were sweeping down the slope towards them across a wide arc. And as they drew closer they appeared grey and oddly translucent, as if they were filled with smoke, finding consistency only in their proximity to whomever was viewing them. Church caught his breath when he realised there were scores of them. Their movements were strange and jarring, almost a dance amongst the trees, twisting and fluttering like paper in a breeze. Church couldn't understand how they could have substance and no substance at the same time.
And then as they drew closer still, Church could make out their grey faces; they were women, quite beautiful in their way, but with hollow cheeks, eyes staring, unblinking, mouths frozen wide to make that terrible scream. They were wearing billowing shrouds and their wild hair streamed behind them. Church, Ruth, Shavi and Veitch were frozen in horror.
'What are they?' Ruth asked hoarsely.
'The Baobhan Sith.'
Church was shocked to hear the croaking words come from Tom's mouth. He had rolled on to his back and was staring crazily at the sky.
'The Baobhan Sith?' Church recalled the sharp pang of fear he felt as he lay under the quilt in the Salisbury hotel room while the unseen thing prowled around the room. Then he realised Tom had uttered the name without seeing. Terrible understanding gelled in his mind. 'You knew this was going to happen! You led us here on purpose!' he shouted at Tom with dismay.
Tom made to reply, but all that came from his mouth was a gout of blood.
It seemed to break the spell, just as the Baobhan Sith were on the verge of emerging from the trees. As one, Church, Veitch and Shavi turned and bolted towards the van.
Still caught in the horror of the moment, Ruth simply backed across the road. For an instant reality seemed to hang in the air, and then suddenly everything erupted in too-fast speed. The Baobhan Sith burst from the trees, now a monstrous hunting pack. The sharp retort of Witch's gun came and went ridicu lously. Most of the shades swarmed round and descended on the fleeing figures of Church, Shavi and Veitch, screeching with an animal ferocity. Although their forms still seemed insubstantial, Ruth saw them latch on to her friends with hideously cruel fingers. And then they seemed to sweep up, as if they were lighter than air, and their mouths seemed to open wider than was possible, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. The last thing she saw before she tore her gaze away were the heads swooping down, jaws about to snap shut on her friends' exposed necks.
The remaining Baobhan Sith were coming for her. They bypassed Tom, as if he were not there, and danced across the road. Ruth continued to back away hurriedly until she was moving into the trees on the downward slope; she had to escape so she could find some way to save the others. The ground fell away sharply. Her heels kicked, didn't find any purchase. And then, as the shriek of the Baobhan Sith seemed to fill everything, she was falling, turning over and over as she plummeted down the slope, feeling the branches and brambles tear at her skin, rolling faster and faster until everything became a blur of fear and pain.
Chapter Nineteen
Ruth came to a rough halt against a drystone wall, knocking the air from her lungs and stunning her for the briefest moment. She had leaf mould in her nostrils and mouth and myriad scratches across her face and hands. Coughing and spluttering, she scrambled to her feet, the terror rising within her as images of the Baobhan Sith burst like fireworks in her mind. Desperately, she glanced back up the slope. There was no sign of them in pursuit, but she could hear the haunted shrieks floating down through the budding branches. It wouldn't be long before they found her.
The thought of having to flee through the wild countryside filled her with dread. Her best option would be to find somewhere secure to hide, but how easy would that be? Glancing round, she discovered she was resting against the garden wall of a tiny cottage. It appeared ancient; the thatch came down to just above the ground floor windows, which were barely larger than portholes. What walls were visible appeared as thick as the length of her arm, to keep out the bitter winter winds. It was surrounded by a neat garden containing a handful of fruit trees that were so gnarled and twisted with age they looked like old men gossiping on a street corner. But Ruth was warmed to see a golden light glowing behind the curtains and the air was scented with the aroma of woodsmoke rising from the large stone chimney.
The shriek of the Baobhan Sith seemed unpleasantly near-she didn't have time to weigh her options. Cursing as she cracked her knees and shins, she clambered over the wall, dropped into a bed of herbs and ran round the side of the house to the front door. It was oak and so weathered it probably hadn't been replaced since the cottage
