‘I tell you, Stonehenge’s dead. As dead as Avebury. There’s a thin bit of power in the ground, enough to keep us hidden, but that’s it. And if you’re looking for something buried, forget it. The bloody archaeologists have been all over the place with a fine-tooth comb.’
‘All of it?’ Shavi found his spot and dropped to his knees to tear at the turf with his fingers. Eventually he found the stone Church had buried more than 150 years earlier.
On it was carefully painted the legend: ‘To Shavi. Laura DuSantiago, Sister of Dragons, is in a burger bar in Northampton. Ruth Gallagher, Sister of Dragons, is in an old people’s home in South London. Church.’
‘Church,’ Shavi read out loud. It was a name, and it felt oddly familiar to his lips.
5
Laura stood at the window and looked at the sun baking the rooftops. The air was filled with the stink of cheap burgers on the griddle and a high-pitched whine as the electric carver cut slices off the puce, fat-seeping pillar of doner meat.
‘Modern life is shit,’ she said. ‘It looks like shit. It sounds like shit. And it smells like shit.’
‘You’re right at home, then, aren’t you?’ the burger bar owner said.
Laura served the three customers waiting without saying a word, and then turned to the two at the back. One was a rangy old man with a sour face and dirty clothes, but the other was a handsome Asian man with gleaming shoulder-length black hair and a pleasant, peaceful expression.
‘Laura?’ the Asian man said.
She studied his face for a moment and then said, ‘Yep. You just hit the jackpot.’
6
‘You trawled around every burger bar in Northampton looking for me?’ Laura said incredulously as they sat at the back of the cafe in the main shopping area. ‘And you did it because a stone told you to. Okay. Sanity-challenged or drugs?’
The café was crowded and noisy, but it still felt like a refuge from the Sunday afternoon browsers in the street outside. Shavi smiled and Laura felt a brief tingle; he had sex appeal to spare beneath his aura of calmness.
‘I cannot explain it,’ Shavi said, ‘but there are many mysterious things happening at the moment.’
‘Tell me about it.’ She tried not to think about the incident with the rapidly growing vegetation.
‘Are you sure about her? She doesn’t look like much to me.’ The Bone Inspector had barely taken his piercing eyes off Laura.
‘You want to be careful you don’t break a hip or something,’ she said.
He smiled darkly. ‘You want to be careful I don’t break something.’
Laura bristled. What is it with you, you old fucker—’
Shavi interrupted. ‘We have travelled far to find you because we fear you may be in danger.’ Seeing he had Laura’s interest, he continued, I was pursued by a man by the name of Rourke, who was not all he appeared—’
‘I know someone called Rourke.’ Laura watched as Shavi and the Bone Inspector shared an uneasy glance. Creepy tosser,’ she continued. Black hair …’ She tried to describe Rourke but found she couldn’t really put her finger on what he looked like. She settled for, ‘He’s got one of those faces you always forget. Bland. Just merges into the background.’
That sounds like my Rourke,’ Shavi said.
‘I don’t get how he could be with you, because the wanker never seems to leave me alone.’
‘Because,’ Shavi said cautiously, ‘he is not human.’ He proceeded to tell Laura exactly what Rourke was, or as close as he could surmise. Laura watched his face carefully. He didn’t appear to be lying, or a nut, but she’d heard numerous similar stories from those who couldn’t tell their bad trips from reality.
‘The Army of the Ten Billion Spiders,’ she said, recalling the graffiti she’d seen everywhere. ‘Of course. Close allies of the Thirteen Hundred Daddy Longlegs. Nice one. Well, some of us have a life to lead. You know, in this world.’
As she stood up to go, the Bone Inspector grabbed her wrist. She fought to free herself, but his grip belied his appearance. Ignoring her vehement cursing, he pulled her slowly across the table to examine the tattoo he had spied on the back of her right hand.
He traced his finger around the circle of interlocking leaves. ‘You know what that is?’
‘Yeah, it’s a sign that any irritating old bastard gets a kick in the bollocks for touching it.’ She wrenched her hand free and rubbed the circulation back into her wrist.
‘It’s the Mark of Cernunnos. At least, that’s one of his names. You might know him as the Green Man.’