shone into his eyes, making them large and bright, like cat’s eyes in a dim room, giving him an added animalism.
“Come away, Freya,” Vivienne said, coming alongside her and pulling her gently by the shoulders. “We see them. Keep to the task. Quickly now.”
“Let us speed on,” Ecgbryt said, continuing the circle, brushing the tips of his fingers against the dark stones. “Thirty-five. What have you?”
“Thirty-five.”
Ecgbryt grumbled.
“There’s another one,” Daniel said to Alex in a low voice as a man, almost identical to the first, stepped out from behind the standing stone by the wooden gate.
Freya hurried to catch up to the others, Fear gaining on her. “I’m still not-ah!” She reeled as a third man stepped out just in front of her. Up close she could see the matted hair of his massive cloak quite clearly, as well as the features of his face, which were broad and rough, his mouth and nostrils protruding snout-like. She could also smell him. He stank of grease and wind and dead animal. He loomed over her, gazing intently but not moving. She hurried around him to stay with the others.
“Who are they?”
“They’re. . people we’d hoped not to run into,” Alex said. “We should be fine if we hurry. As soon as you go through the portal, then you’ll be safe. Mostly.”
Freya looked across to Daniel. He was keeping his eyes on the men behind him, a hand under his coat where his sword was, an eager, sneering grin on his face; he was counting under his breath.
“Forty,” Ecgbryt said.
“Forty,” Alex said, coming to stand next to the knight.
“I’ve got forty-one,” Vivienne said.
“Forty-one also,” Daniel said, joining them.
There were more of the hairy men now-six in total-striding between the stones.
“It is one of these, then,” Ecgbryt said, studying the stones behind him. He circled one that stood about five feet high. “Which one? Which one. .”
Freya took two steps toward Ecgbryt and then froze in terror as the men-the six of them that they could see plainly-started howling at the top of their lungs. As each one stood, heads thrown back, they began to shudder and shake, their fur coats bristling. By degrees they leaned forward, spasming, arms extended, transforming. Their fur skins drew tighter around them, their arms and legs growing thick and bulky, and their skin darkened as fine fur grew everywhere, even on their faces-faces that lengthened, noses flattening into snouts, jaws widening, opening to show teeth that grew visibly. Their eyes turned black and sank back into deep, dark-furred brows.
Their arms-now forelegs-touched the ground and the transformations were complete. Where large men once stood, now there were large, black bears with slavering jaws and clawed limbs.
Freya gaped. “Oh, you’re kidding me.”
As one, the bears rushed them, tearing across the neatly trimmed lawn at a sprinting pace.
“Yes, yes. Here. Daniel, Freya-it is time, quick!” Ecgbryt yelled at them, but Freya was rooted to the spot. She felt Daniel tug at her arm and she stumbled forward, trying to pick her feet up far enough so as not to stumble.
Ecgbryt drew his axe from his rucksack and stepped forward to deal with the bears. He pulled a silver can from his belt and tossed it on the lawn. Freya watched as it rolled to a stop on the grass and then exploded in a flash of light and a head-rattling boom.
Of all of them, Freya was the only one who hadn’t braced herself for the flashbang grenade. Woozy and blinded, she felt arms join around her waist and she was hoisted off the ground. She rubbed her palms into her eyes to try to clear them. The last she saw in the twilight of the overworld was Ecgbryt wading through white, smoky vapours, swinging his axe swiftly around him. A bear carcass already lay at his feet, but the others were rallying. She heard the sharp, tinny pops of Alex’s firearm, Ecgbryt shouting, and then she was pulled down into darkness, as if into the grave-as if into the Fear.
She was released and stumbled down a short flight of steps, shouting and grabbing at the stone walls. She stopped her slow fall by pushing her weight against a wet stone wall, its texture and smell all too familiar.
The sounds dimmed, and the last suffused rays of light disappeared as the darkness around her became complete.
CHAPTER TWO
I
Hartlepoole
Sean Pitt walked Anna Powell home along the side path of the motorway that skirted their city. It wasn’t a very scenic route to walk-it was littered, noisy, and polluted-but it was nicer because Sean liked Anna, and he thought that Anna liked him back, even though she ignored him at school. But on Wednesday evenings, when they both had orchestra, he was able to walk her home, just the two of them together, alone.
The route was well known to him, and he had long-standing fantasies of, at certain bends and turns, either taking her hand in his, or putting his arm around her, or maybe even leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. These fantasies were so tied to different parts in the route that they were virtually landmarks.
But they were still fantasies nonetheless. For some reason, he never got the courage up to do any of it. Part of the reason was that she was always rumoured to be going out with Mark Morris, but most of it was that he was paralysed by the idea that she would stop walking back with him on Wednesdays. Some time with her every week was better than no time with her at all. And so every week he did nothing, and every Wednesday evening he kicked himself for his cowardice.
But it couldn’t last forever. School was ending in a few weeks, and he resolved to take some action. Today, he told himself, was different. The fact that he’d told himself that every Wednesday before this one was “different” was irrelevant and didn’t detract from today’s difference. Today his courage wouldn’t fail.
“I can’t stand Megan anymore,” Anna was saying. “We used to be
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. He couldn’t recall who Megan was. He was pretty sure Anna had never mentioned her before.
“She’s always been a moody cow, but we used to get on, at least. And Jenna told me what Megan told her about me, which was all lies, obviously, saying Mark and I got it on, when we never have. She’s such a big liar.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed again. The path was taking them beneath the overpass, which was always busy with traffic but was also the most secluded of all the spots on their winding way home.
“I like you, Sean,” Anna said after an uncharacteristic moment of quiet. “I always feel like I can talk to you. I’ll miss you when school ends.”
“Well,” Sean said, flushing, “you know. . I. .”
Anna stopped. “Who’s that over there?”
“Where?”
Propped against one of the columns was a heap of something or other that, in the low light, gave a silhouette like a person, but it was a trick of the eye; it was far too big to actually be someone.
“It’s nothing,” said Sean. “Just some bin bags or something.”
“No, it’s moving,” Anna said, moving up the concrete ramp toward the pillar.
“It’s just the wind,” Sean said, faltering. The news had been going on about some missing children lately, and
