Anthony Horowitz - Raven_s Gate

“Let me assure you, the Old Ones exist. They were the first great force of evil. At one time they ruled the world until they were defeated – by a trick – and banished. Ever since then they have been waiting to return. That is what you are about to witness. Your friend Matthew is tied down on the very mouth of Raven’s Gate.” Sir Michael spread his hands. “That is where we are now. And the gate is about to open.”

The villagers shivered with pleasure. Even Mrs Deverill forced a thin smile.

“The forces that created Raven’s Gate knew what they were doing,” Sir Michael continued. “The gate is unbreakable. Unopenable. Unmovable. Or so it seemed for centuries. Our ancestors tried as long ago as the Middle Ages. For hundreds of years from generation to generation they passed on their accumulated knowledge, their spells and rituals. But nothing worked until now. We are the chosen generation.

“Because we live in the twenty-first century. We have new technology. And there is a power that we can harness. The same power existed the day the world was created, but it only became available to us a short time ago. Nuclear power. The power of the atom.”

He walked over to Matt, who strained upwards, trying to break the leather bands. He forced his shoulders off the sacrificial block – but there was nothing he could do. As Sir Michael approached, he slumped back.

“Do you really think it’s so crazy to draw parallels between the power of the nuclear bomb and the power of black magic?” Sir Michael asked. “Do you really believe that a weapon capable of destroying cities and killing millions of people in a few seconds is so far removed from the Devil’s work? To me it was obvious. I saw that the two different powers could be brought together and that, together, they could do what nothing had ever been able to do before.

“When Omega One was built I used my influence to ensure that it was built here, on the very spot where the ring of stones – Raven’s Gate – had stood. The ancient stone circle would be contained right here, in this reactor room, if it hadn’t been destroyed. Beneath us, the reactor has almost reached critical mass. It is as if a gigantic bomb has been buried in the heart of the gate, waiting to blow it apart and allow the Old Ones through.

“I built Omega One. I was also in charge of closing it down once the government had finished with it. I managed to dissuade them from actually razing it to the ground, and as soon as everyone had gone away, I set to work, quietly rebuilding it again. It took me more than twenty years, working with the villagers, the children of the children of the warlocks and witches who have inhabited Lesser Malling for centuries.”

“But how did you get the uranium?” Richard shouted. “It’s impossible! You told us so yourself. You’d never get the uranium.”

“There was a time when it would have been impossible,” Sir Michael agreed. “And it was still extremely difficult. But the world has changed. The collapse of the Soviet Union. Events in Serbia and Yugoslavia. Wars in the Middle East. There are mercenaries and terrorists crawling all over the planet, and finding ones we could do business with was only a matter of time. They too serve the Old Ones in their own way. We’re all on the same side.

“For six months now we have kept the station going, feeding the reactor, priming it for tonight. Believe me when I tell you, the reactor works. Soon I will give the order for the last control rods to be lifted. This will raise the heat to critical levels. And the gate will melt and open.”

“You’ll all be killed!” Richard said.

“Only you will be killed. Because only you are outside the circle.”

“That’s what you think…”

“That’s what I know.” Sir Michael pointed to the symbols painted on the floor. “For centuries magicians have painted circles like this for protection. And they will protect us right now. If the radiation leaks, we won’t be touched by it. The heat, no matter how fantastic, won’t burn us. Only you will die.”

“What about Matt?” Richard demanded.

“Professor Dravid didn’t tell you?” Sir Michael smiled. “The three ingredients of the black sabbath. Ritual, fire and blood. We have inherited the rituals. We have created the fire. Now Matthew will supply us with the blood.”

He picked up the knife and ran a finger along the blade.

“Blood,” he continued, “is the most powerful form of energy on the planet. It is the very life force itself. Sacrifice has always been part of magical ritual because it represents a release of that power. There, once again, is the connection. The medieval witch splits throats. The twenty-first century witch splits atoms. Tonight we shall do both.”

“But it doesn’t have to be him!” Richard insisted. “Why Matt?”

“Because of who he is.”

“But he’s nobody… He’s just a child!”

“That’s what he thinks. But it has to be his blood. This is the moment that he was born for.”

“That’s enough!” Mrs Deverill hissed. “Let’s get on with it.”

Sir Michael looked at his watch. “You’re right. It’s time.”

Matt couldn’t move. The slab was cold against his back. The leather bands held him tight.

Inside the observation room a switch was activated. Far beneath the ground, electromagnets gripped the control rods and began to pull them upwards, centimetre by centimetre. The villagers joined hands, eyes closed. Slowly, the nuclear rods were sucked out of the nuclear pile. Sir Michael walked to the middle of the circle and stood above Matt, the knife in his hands.

It was twelve o’clock on the night of Roodmas. It was time to open the gate.

So it came to this.

Matt was tied down, surrounded, helpless. In a few moments he would be killed. The ferocious heat of the nuclear reactor would weaken the gate, bringing it to the point when it could be finally smashed. And then the knife would plunge into his heart. Somehow his blood hitting the floor would be enough. At that moment Raven’s Gate would open.

Richard couldn’t do anything. Even if he managed to break free, he would never reach Matt in time.

But there was still the power.

Twice Matt had tried to find it inside himself. Twice he had failed to make it work. He had one more chance. But how…?

The villagers had begun to chant. It was a sound that Matt had heard before. They began with the same words that had haunted him when he had been alone at Hive Hall:

“NODEB… TEMOCMOD… EMANY… NEVAEH… NITRA.”

But now that he was so close to them, Matt could make out what they were saying. And suddenly he understood. He had assumed they were speaking in Latin or Greek but it was much simpler than that. It was an old witches’ ritual. They were reciting the Lord’s Prayer backwards.

Matt tried to ignore them. He was aware of the growing energy beneath him as the nuclear reactor reached critical mass. He knew he had to close his mind to all of it. Why hadn’t he been able to break the vase in Richard’s flat? Why couldn’t he open the door when he was Mrs Deverill’s prisoner? What was he doing wrong?

The murmuring filled the room, rising above the soft hum of the ventilation system. Sir Michael held the knife tightly in both hands, waiting for the moment when he would bring it down. Despite all his efforts, Matt found himself transfixed by the silver blade. This whole business had begun with a knife – the one that Kelvin had used to wound the security guard. It seemed that it would end with one too.

Think about the knife. Concentrate on it. Make it stop. Lying on his back, Matt tried to unlock the power that he knew was inside him. But it was no good. Sir Michael was in control. He was smiling to himself as he whispered the words of the invocation. Matt could see the sweat on his upper lip. He was going to enjoy this. His whole life had built up to it.