Always Forever (71 page)

She stood up and stretched, although since her transformation her limbs no
longer really ached. But she did feel the cold more, and her breath was clouding.
She pulled her jacket tightly around her, the chill of the stone flags rising
through the soles of her boots.

She found Shavi in an adjoining corridor lined with windows that looked
out over the city. She might not have seen him in the pervasive gloom if not for
a brief instant when the smoke and mist cleared to allow the moonlight to break
through. Then he was limned in silver, like a ghost, leaning against the wall.

As Laura approached quietly, she was disturbed to see a strange cast to his
face. It was heavy with dark thoughts and deep troubles, and she suddenly wondered whether his experience in the Grim Lands had affected him more than
they thought. What if it had twisted a part of him, and even he didn't know?

She was considering retreating when he looked up to see her. His warm
smile instantly dispelled all her doubts.

"Planning a suicide mission?" she asked.

He held out an arm so she could slide in next to him. "I was thinking about
the others."

She felt warm and secure wrapped against his body. The smell of him
brought back memories in a rush and she was surprised how happy they made
her feel, but there was an edge of sadness to them as well. "That time we did the
monkey dance in Glastonbury," she began, "I was being a little manipulator."

"I know."

"Not in a bad way. I just wanted to get close to you. I thought nobody
would do that if I didn't try to play them. Anyway, I'm sorry. I should have been
more honest."

"Why do you feel the need to tell me this now?"

She thought about this for a moment. "If I screw up ... if I'm not up to what
you expected of me ... I just don't want you thinking I'm all bad. Too bad."

"I could never think badly of you, Laura."

"Yeah, well, you don't know what lies ahead. I might run off screaming at
a vital moment. Or something."

"I have faith in you." He gave her a squeeze. "I wonder where the others are
now. Ryan and Ruth should have realised how dense the Fomorii forces are in
the city by now. I hope their regiment of the Tuatha De Danann had more success than ours."

"The worst thing is that we might never find out, just be stuck here while
everything winds down, not knowing if the people we care about are alive or
dead."

"And Church-"

"Church will be fine." She nuzzled into Shavi's shoulder. "He's got God on
his side. Too damn decent to screw up."

"It must hurt you to still love him."

"Not really. Yes, I still love him. But I've got my head round the fact that we're never going to be together." She put on a fake voice. "It's just one of those
terribly tragic love stories."

"It is not the end, you know."

She laughed silently. "That's a good thing to say in this predicament. But if
we're just talking about our stupid personal lives, then I know you're right. For the
first time I feel optimistic about me. About what I could do. Which is ludicrous
when there might only be a day left, and I've got green blood running through my
veins. But, you know, I feel ... hopeful. And I never thought I'd feel that in my life."

Shavi rested his head against hers, smelling her hair, relishing the new
aromas she generated since her change. Above all, he was happy for her, even if
there were only hours left. "What do you want to do now?" he asked quietly.

"I just want you to hold me here like I was some pathetic child. And I want
to watch the dawn come up with you."

Silence draped across them in the deep dark, with only the occasional
soughing of the wind to remind them there was a world beyond their own
sphere. And there was peace for both of them.

When dawn rose in intermittent bursts of gold and red through the shifting
smoke, Laura was asleep on the floor in Shavi's arms. His thoughts had been too
troubled to sleep himself, but the magical colour ignited in the corridor by the
light through the stained glass was enough to lift his mood.

"A beautiful day." Michell was standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry-irony
doesn't go down too well at this time in the morning."

Shavi slipped out from under Laura without waking her and wandered over
to greet the Professor.

"I just wanted to say thank you for what you said to everyone last night,"
Michell continued. "It did them the world of good. I'm a little too cynical to say
I was affected by it myself."

"I am glad I could be of some help." Shavi glanced out of the one window
he had left open the previous night. "Has the food gone completely?"

"There's a little left. For emergencies."

"Then I suggest you divide it up amongst them this morning."

Michell searched Shavi's face and then nodded slowly, chewing on his lip.
"I'll arrange it. Do you have any plans for the day? Any sights to see? I thought
I'd work on a few lectures myself."

Shavi smiled. "No. No plans."

Behind them Laura stirred and yawned loudly, eventually making her way
to them, still sleepy eyed. A racking shiver brought her fully awake. "When do
you think the end'll start coming down?"

"It should not be too long."

"How do you know that?" Michell asked.

Shavi pointed to the open window. Laura and the Professor peered out
together.

The Fomorii stood shoulder-to-shoulder everywhere they looked, packing
the main drag of Victoria Street and every surrounding street to the dim distance. The entire cityscape gleamed an oily black in the wan sunlight. None of
them made the slightest sound, nor did they move an inch: an army of sable
statues. And all their faces were turned up to the window where Shavi, Laura
and the Professor stood.

Waiting.

re you going to talk to me at all?" Ruth had been keeping one eye on
Veitch long enough to know he was fighting to ignore her.

She instantly regretted speaking when he flashed her a glance that was so
harsh it jolted her. "What do you expect? Happy smiles and blowing kisses?"

"Not from you, no."

His long hair, lashed by the cold north wind, obscured his face so she
couldn't read his response, but she had watched his eyes made darker by a
brooding brow ever since they had picked up the last leg of the Ml. His handsome face had been transformed by the icy set of his features. Sometimes, when
she saw him like that, he frightened her.

The Tuatha De Danann who rode in front, behind and on either side had
added to her loneliness by alienating her ever since they had left the camp. They
had taken to Veitch immediately, encouraging him to strip off his shirt so they
could examine with delight the fantastic tattoos that covered his torso, so she
knew it wasn't because she was a Fragile Creature. She had endured enough similar ignorance from men during her working life not to take it to heart. With
what lay ahead, she could have done with a friend for support and she hated
Veitch a little for not being there for her, even though she had no right to ask
that of him.

At the end of the motorway they took the North Circular. It gave her a
strange frisson to be riding a horse along deserted roads on which she had queued
irritatedly in backed-up traffic so many times. At least the Tuatha De Danann
force gave her some confidence. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands,
armed with bizarre weapons that made her blood grow cold just to look at them.
They stretched as far back as she could see, and fanned out slightly on either side
ahead so the force resembled an arrow driving into the contaminated heart of the
city. Lugh and Nuada led the way, both of them enthused with a warrior spirit
that sickened her. She didn't take any pleasure in fighting, certainly not in
killing; it was a job that they had an obligation to fulfil, but that was all. And
she also despised the jealousy, or contempt, she felt coming off the two gods at her possession of the Spear. The weapon rested on her back in a specially made
harness Lugh had grudgingly handed over, its power warming through her
clothes to invigorate her spirit.

They broke off from the North Circular, passing down North End Road
until they arrived at Hampstead Heath. The expanse of greenery was looking a
little washed-out in the October chill, but it had been protected from the ash
falls by its lofty position above the city and the direction of the wind.

From the heights all they could see was the pall of thick smoke and mist
that drifted along the Thames Valley. Occasionally, though, it shifted enough for
the black tower to loom up ominously in the east.

A blast from a strange horn resembling a conch shell brought the force to an
abrupt halt. Ahead, Ruth could see Lugh and Nuada in deep discussion. After a
moment they beckoned to Veitch. It was noticeable that they were ignoring her,
but out of bloody-mindedness she spurred her horse to keep pace behind Veitch.

Both of the gods kept their eyes fixed on Veitch's face as they spoke. "We
are debating crossing this heathland," Nuada said. "It is a wide expanse that
could be dangerous."

Veitch scanned the heath. "If there are any of the Bastards out there, there
can't be many. There aren't that many places to hide."

"The Night Walkers are a cunning breed," Nuada said.

"I say we continue," Lugh said. "It would not do to waste the hours following the edge. And if there are Night Walkers, they will fall before the might
of the Golden Ones, as they always must."

Veitch rubbed his chin. "Well, I don't know. I wouldn't like to be caught
out there."

"I heard you were a mighty warrior," Lugh gibed. "That strangest of things,
a Fragile Creature who is not fragile!"

Ruth willed Veitch not to be swayed, but after a moment's thought, he
shrugged. "It's your call, then. Let's get to it."

Ruth sighed, but none of them looked towards her.

When they returned to their positions, Ruth said to Veitch, "Why did you
give in to them? You know better than they do. You're good at what you do,
Ryan. You should have more confidence in yourself."

He grunted unintelligibly, but renewed his effort to scan the heath. Clusters of trees dotted the rolling grassland, with thicker woodland to the north.
They were aiming for Parliament Hill, where they could press down speedily
into Kentish Town, and then on into Camden, Islington and finally the City.
Ruth was dreading the final leg of the assault where the winding streets and
soaring buildings would make any mass approach impossible. She expected a long, gruelling fight to their destination, and if the Fomorii could hold them off
for just thirty-six hours it would end in failure. If only there were a better way,
she thought.

The Tuatha De Danann fanned out across the heath, giving Ruth an even more
impressive view of their numbers. So concentrated were they that her perception
could barely cope; the gods lost their individuality, became the untarnished
power that lay at the core of them, merging into one, bright glow. It reminded
her of a sea of gold, licking up to an oil-stained beach. The sight was comforting
and she relaxed a little. The Fomorii wouldn't stand a chance.

They moved across the heath slowly. Nuada and Lugh were leading cautiously, constantly scanning the terrain. Veitch kept his eyes on the tree line.

Briefly the sun broke through the thick cloud cover, warming Ruth's face.
She closed her eyes and went with the gentle rocking of her mount, enjoying the
aroma of greenery the breeze brought from the north. In her mind she pictured
a perfect autumn day, walking with Church amongst a wood turning gold, red
and brown somewhere peaceful, Scotland perhaps, or the New Forest. Her mind
plucked a soundtrack from her memory that had been pressuring to come forward since the journey began.

"What are you thinking?"

She opened her eyes to see Veitch watching her suspiciously. "I can't get an
old song out of my head. It's sort of gospelly, traditional, but it was in a George
Clooney film a while back. It's called-"

In the blink of an eye, the Fomorii were there. They rose up out of the
ground, not there, then there a second later, an opposing army created from thin
air. By the time she had realised what was happening, chaos had erupted.

Ruth was caught in a hurricane. Her nightmares of the forthcoming confrontation had suggested it would be as sickeningly ferocious and bloody as any mediaeval battle, but what she saw around her was much, much worse. The Fomorii
wielded their ugly, serrated swords like propellers, hacking and slashing in a
relentless whirl. Limbs, heads and other body parts showered all around, filling
the air with a blizzard of golden moths.

The Tuatha De Danann were just as brutal. Their weapons were unleashed
in furious rounds, turning the Fomorii into a mist of black droplets or a thick
sludge with only the hint of component parts. And where the fighting was too
close, they resorted to their swords, jabbing and hacking as fast as their enemy.
In the fury of movement and the ear-splitting din of combat, with the mud and
grue covering all, Ruth could barely tell them apart.