Jack of Ravens(186)

‘Any idea where to start looking?’ Ruth said.

‘Not yet. But there’s something else we need to do first. Tomorrow.’

‘I don’t know about you,’ Laura said, ‘but I need to get some shut-eye. Finding out you’re a plant is pretty exhausting.’ She made light of her comment, but Church could see in her eyes how much it troubled her.

The others fell asleep quickly, but Church stayed awake for almost an hour, watching Ruth, and feeling an abiding peace. Finally, after so many years and so much struggle, they were together.



11



The moon was full and milky in a star-spangled sky as they left the comfort of Stonehenge and made their way to Shavi’s van. Church took the wheel, enjoying the prospect of driving much more than he would ever have anticipated before he turned up in the Iron Age.

‘So where are we going?’ Laura asked as she climbed into the back with Shavi.

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.’

Church tapped his head. ‘It’s all up here. I’m going with instinct.’

Laura rested her head in Shavi’s lap. ‘I’ll say, ditto.’

‘I have to say, in my experience of the last few days, we cannot afford to stay in one place too long,’ Shavi said.

‘Yeah, everywhere is enemy territory,’ Laura said. ‘How fucked up is that?’

‘I don’t see how we’re going to be able to do anything positive,’ Ruth said. ‘The enemy will have us on the run continually.’ She searched the shadowy hedgerows and the lonely Downs as Church pulled onto the main road. She half-expected Rourke to be waiting there, ready to throw himself at the van.

‘That’s the first thing we’re going to tackle,’ Church said. ‘Some of this land has to be our land.’

‘Sounds like the man has a plan,’ Ruth said.

Shavi stretched out. ‘It is Veitch I feel sorry for. He was one of us, and though I cannot remember it, we must have been good friends. He has been a victim in these events.’

‘He was a victim, but he’s also slaughtered hundreds of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons over the years,’ Church replied. ‘He chose to cross a line a long time ago.’ Of all their enemies, Church was convinced Veitch was the most dangerous. He would never stop, never walk away, until he felt he had got his revenge, even if rivers of blood were spilled and the land looked like a charnel house.

‘Sounds like you’ve got a downer on the Veitch-dude,’ Laura said lazily.

Church glanced in the mirror and thought he saw a faint movement on the skyline. It was impossible to discern the cause, but it troubled him immensely.



12



They headed west through the ancient heart of England, over rolling downs and past silent golden cornfields, through market towns still dreaming of the Tudors and woods where the oaks were twisted with age, and onwards to the M5 motorway. They followed it south to Exeter, and then west through Devon and into Cornwall, stopping only briefly to refuel. Every time they slowed at junctions, Laura, Shavi and Ruth turned to the windows, searching for anything that might hint of an impending attack. But there were only lorry drivers heading through the night from the port at Bristol, or tourists trying to beat the daytime jams.

‘I don’t get it,’ Laura said. ‘They wouldn’t give us a free run. Maybe they don’t know where we are.’

‘They know,’ Church said.

‘They are biding their time.’ Shavi leaned on the back of Church’s seat, searching the road ahead. ‘After our escape they are not taking any chances. They want to get us into a position from which there is no escape.’

‘Because they’re scared of us,’ Ruth said.

‘They’re scared of what we represent,’ Church corrected. ‘They’re scared of the Pendragon Spirit.’

They followed the granite spine of Cornwall towards the land where Church had begun his journey 2,300 years earlier. Before they reached Carn Euny, Church took them south, past patchwork fields and stone walls and trees bent double by Atlantic storms. In the distance the lights of St Austell rose up, with the beach and sea just beyond.

‘Nearly there now,’ Church said. ‘I can feel it.’ The light in his head was brighter; he could almost hear the Seelie Court singing.

The roads beyond St Austell were poorly lit and the dark appeared to be closing in on every side. In the shadows they thought they glimpsed faces and movement, but they sped by too fast to be sure.

The road continued up a steep incline; at the top Church slowed and peered over the steering wheel. ‘I think I know where we are.’