Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

‘Puck told me we needed to look in a cold land where rainbows bring the gods to Earth. In Norse mythology, the Rainbow Bridge is the link between Earth and the gods.’

‘You’re putting all your trust in some mischievous imp that spends its time leading humans into swamps?’

‘And saving them from them,’ Church said. ‘Don’t forget the other side of the coin.’

‘I have to agree with Laura,’ Shavi said. ‘At best the Puck’s intentions are ambiguous. How do you know we can trust him? None of the Tuatha De Danann appears to hold him in high regard.’

‘He’s got his own agenda,’ Church concurred, ‘but my instinct says this time we need to follow his suggestion.’

‘All right, so how do we get off this damn thing?’ Ruth said.

‘You ask. I exist only to serve.’ Everyone started; Ahken was standing near the doors halfway down the carriage.

‘Is that how people get off?’ Laura snapped. ‘You pop up like a rat from a drain and give them a heart attack?’

‘Many have died on the Last Train.’ Ahken clasped his hands in a gesture of deference that also appeared triumphal. He smiled and raised one hand. The train slowed. ‘The Last Train is at your service whenever you might need it. One small thing will summon it: a spot of blood on the tracks.’ Ahken bowed.

‘You really think we’re getting on this thing again?’ Laura sneered.

Ahken smiled again, this time sly and cold. ‘Everyone takes a scheduled trip on the Last Train once in their existence. Yours is still to come. A seat has been reserved.’

Laura felt a chill, resisted the urge to ask when that would be.

The doors slid open and they stepped onto the clean, modern platform of Heathrow Airport Underground Station.

‘Shit. How did he know where we needed to be?’ Laura turned to ask Ahken, but the Last Train had already departed, as silent as the grave.

The last leg of the journey through the Kent countryside was illuminated by the silvery light of approaching day, and by the time Mallory drove the stolen rental transit across Canterbury’s city limits, the sun was a pink and gold glow low in the eastern sky.

Sophie sat in the passenger seat, with Jerzy and Caitlin in the back. Now and then, she’d glance at Mallory, confused by emotions shifting deep inside her. Every day at Steelguard, she had watched him move around the office with his cleaning products, wishing she could talk to him, but with no rational explanation for why she would want that. He was always sullen, with a clipped politeness that undercut all his comments with contempt. Some of her colleagues, usually the braying, arrogant ones, were convinced their cleaner was a psychopath waiting to gut them in the lift one night. Sophie had never felt threatened by Mallory, though she had caught him looking at her on more than one occasion.

He was certainly good-looking, but a hardness shadowed his features that suggested his life experiences had not all been good. More troubling was that Sophie’s feelings for him went beyond attraction to something deeper and more nuanced. It made no sense, and that left her frustrated and angry.

‘I keep remembering something really sad, only I can’t remember what it is,’ Caitlin whined from the back in her little girl’s voice.

‘Can’t you shut her up?’ Mallory snapped.

‘Have some compassion,’ Sophie hissed harshly. ‘She’s not well.’

‘Compassion is way down the list at the moment, behind anxiety and fear. I tell you, she’s going to drop us in it big time.’

‘Get a grip. You can deal with it.’

‘I’ll take that as a vote of confidence.’ Mallory glanced at Jerzy in the back. The Mocker’s mask gleamed above a voluminous blanket. ‘All right, tell me now, you little weasel — why Canterbury? I don’t know of any standing stones in this area.’

‘Don’t bully him,’ Sophie said sharply.

‘Get off my back, will you?’

‘The Enemy will be observing the old stones where the Blue Fire is strongest,’ Jerzy replied, ‘but they are not the only places where it can be found. Anywhere with sufficient spiritual power will do if you know the right key to unlock the door. The ground in those places is like a battery, soaking up the energies of worship.’

‘You know what worship gets you?’ Mallory said. ‘Sore knees and a sore throat.’

‘Somebody died.’ Caitlin began to cry quietly. Sophie watched a flicker of pity cross Mallory’s face, but he hid it quickly.

‘She shouldn’t be with us. For her own sake,’ he said firmly.

‘We can’t leave her behind.’ Sophie softened her critical tone. She turned back to comfort Caitlin and was shocked to see that a new flintiness had replaced the little girl’s innocence.

‘I’m going with you. Nobody dumps me,’ she said sharply.

‘It’s like having an acting class in the back,’ Mallory muttered.

‘Who are you now?’ Sophie asked.

‘I’m me — Caitlin, that is.’ She softened. ‘I know it’s difficult for you both, but I’m asking you to make some concessions. I’m not going to let you down-’ She paused. ‘If I do, I’ll make sure it’s only me who pays the price. But I need to do this. I need to make things right.’ She silenced Sophie’s coming question and added, ‘Don’t ask me to explain. Memories are surfacing from a life I don’t wholly remember. Upsetting things …’ She choked back a sob.

‘We all have different faces we put on when needs must,’ Jerzy said. ‘In this, Caitlin is no different-’

‘Who kicked your box?’ Mallory said harshly. ‘Stop acting like you’ve got an opinion worth hearing.’ He pulled the transit into a multi-storey car park and brought it to a halt in the first empty space. ‘Okay, I’m sorry.’ He turned back to Caitlin. ‘We’ve all got our own big bag of rocks on our shoulders. Some are more obvious than others, but that doesn’t give me a right to start mouthing off.’

Caitlin’s touching, relieved smile made Sophie warm to Mallory, reminding her of the qualities that sometimes drew her to him so strongly.

Jerzy clapped his hands together. ‘Oh, the band of heroes shapes before my eyes-’

Mallory jabbed a finger at him. ‘You stay five paces ahead of us at all times. If I wanted a cheerleader I’d choose one who looks good in a skirt.’

Even though the streets were deserted, they kept away from the main thoroughfares as they made their way into the city centre.

‘Everywhere I look I keep thinking I see spiders,’ Sophie said. ‘Is this how it’s going to be? Never feeling at peace again?’

Mallory was distracted by a rack of newspapers outside a newsagent’s. ‘That thing we saw over the West End last night — the thing that shattered the Enemy’s illusion of normalcy? All that fire and destruction?’ He tossed Caitlin a copy of the Daily Mail . ‘Think again.’

The headline read:

TERROR STRIKE ON LONDON

Fifty-Seven Dead in West End Attack

The rest of the front page showed firemen battling to put out a conflagration engulfing an Oxford Street store.

Uncomprehending, Caitlin flipped to the inside report. ‘There’s no truth here at all. It says all the devastation was caused by bombs in Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street … and … and some kind of gas that made people hallucinate.’

‘Clever,’ Sophie said bitterly.

Mallory tore open a copy of the Mirror . ‘ “CCTV captured the terrorists fleeing from the scene. Photos have now been circulated to police, customs officials and security services.” What’s the betting they’re nice little snapshots of us and the others?’