Always Forever (65 page)

"Exactly." Church sat down close to Ruth, then became aware of Veitch
watching him curiously. He shuffled away an inch or two. "I can't pretend it
hasn't bothered me, but we all know how much the dead love to twist things.
Who knows what they really meant?"

Veitch took a knife and diced an apple into four quarters. "I'm still going
to be watching my back."

The conversation drifted to lighter subjects, but they never caught the uplifting
mood of celebration again. Just after one a.m., when the sounds of revelry from
the camp had died down, the growing quiet was disturbed by the distant blast
of a horn. It was barely audible, but it brought a chill to them all. A second or
two later it sounded again, much closer to hand, followed by the fearsome
baying of hounds.

"The Wild Hunt," Shavi said.

Ruth fingered the mark that had been imprinted on her hand. "Cernunnos
is joining us. That's good news."

"Right. He's obviously on the side of us Fragile Creatures." Even so, Church
couldn't shake the fear he felt at the god's Erl-King aspect. He would never
forget how the Hunt had torn through the revellers leaving the pub on Dartmoor: so brutal, yet cold, like a force of nature.

They fell silent with their thoughts until they heard the sound of two pairs
of footsteps approaching the tent. They waited for the flaps to be thrown back, but the visitors slipped in quietly. The tall one at the rear was the Bone
Inspector, his greying hair matted with grease and filth hanging loosely around
his shoulders. His cheesecloth shirt was covered with green stains.

The shorter one at the front wore a cloak with a hood pulled over her head,
but Church immediately knew who it was. His stomach flipped; a shiver ran up
his spine. "Laura." The word was barely more than an exhalation.

She threw back her hood with her typical flair for the dramatic. They were
shocked to see Veitch was right about the tinge to her skin, but that the scars
Callow had inflicted on her face were mysteriously missing shocked them more.
"Church-dude. You look like you've seen a ghost. Instead of just the walking
dead." She looked round at the others, who were rapt. "Well, that's the kind of
wild reception I always expected from this little group."

Church jumped up, looking deeply into her eyes for a long moment, before
putting his arms around her. She smelled of spring leaves and summer flowers.
He didn't know what to say, so he led her to a space and sat her down.

Ruth leaned across the circle. "I want to thank you-"

"Don't. We've all made sacrifices. That's what we do." She nodded to the
Bone Inspector. "He's the one you should thank. If not for him I wouldn't be
here for all that mystical five symbolism baloney you need to do the big job."

"Somebody had to do it," the Bone Inspector said grumpily. He shifted
around, uncomfortable with the attention. "Where's the Rhymer? I need to sort
something out with him."

When they said they didn't know, he left in a bad temper to scour the camp.
Their attention turned back to all the confusing emotions Laura's reappearance
had raised.

"We were just saying we could not believe you were truly dead," Shavi said
with a smile, reaching out to take her hand. She smiled back, sweetly, without
a trace of the bitterness that had always characterised her.

"Don't get me wrong, hon. I did die. And now I'm back, the same, only
different."

Another one, Church thought. What does it all mean?

"But how did you survive?" Ruth was pale and troubled. "I had Balor in me.
I know what it felt like, what would have happened when it came out."

Laura lifted up her over-sized T-shirt to reveal a rapidly fading jagged white
scar, running from her belly to her sternum. "Something like this?"

Ruth couldn't help gasping. "That would have killed you!"

"It would have if I wasn't already dead. This is the key." She showed the
back of her right hand where she sported the mark of Cernunnos, the circle of
interlocking leaves. "You know how screwed up I got about all the changes taking place in my body ... the green blood that had a life of its own? It was
such a shock at the time." She traced her finger around the mark. "I had no idea
what he'd done to me ... could never have guessed." She looked around them.
"I died that day up at Loch Maree when he marked me with this."

Church shook his head in disbelief, but she silenced him with a wave of her
hand.

"I died, and then he remade me in his own image. For the rest of you time
was frozen. But for me ... well, I don't know how he did it." She shook her
head, barely able to summon up the words. "I'm not human, I'm a plant."

There was a hanging moment when they all tried to work out if she was
joking. She laughed to herself, silently, at their expressions. "Okay, maybe that's
not the right word. Physically, he turned me into something that has the characteristics of flora rather than fauna. I don't need to eat or drink or breathe, not
in the same way you do. I can survive under water. I can survive where there's
no air at all. And when I get hurt, I repair myself like a plant. That's what happened with Balor. I'll tell you now, I don't remember much about it, apart from
the fact that it was agony. That's one thing he didn't sort out. It tore me apart.
It wasn't pretty. But I put myself back together. And-" she held her arms wide
"-I did it better than before." She pointed to her face. "No scars. Not on my
back, either. So I've got a slight skin problem, but that's a small price to pay. At
least I don't pollinate or any of that shit."

Her flippant manner made it difficult for them to assimilate what she was
saying. Church's brow furrowed. "So all the time we were together-"

"That's right, Church-dude-you were having sex with a plant."

"A nature spirit." Shavi leaned forward excitedly. "He distilled the essence
of what you already were, and made you an avatar."

"Well, he might have asked." Her smile was relaxed.

"Are you okay with it?" Ruth asked, concerned.

"It's better than being a nobody. And it's better than being really, truly
dead. I think the same, I feel the same. I'm still the same gorgeous, wonderful,
witty and charming Laura DuSantiago. Apart from the fact you have to water
me twice a day."

Church leaned forward and touched her forearm. The skin felt exactly the
same as it always had done. She took his hand with honest affection. "I'm okay.
Really. "

"You seem different," Ruth said. "I mean, as well as all that-"

"I have my flaws, but stupidity isn't one of them. When somebody shoves a
big, fat, old lesson in my face, I make sure I learn from it." She looked down at
her fingers as she knotted and unknotted them. "I've found peace, I guess, if that doesn't sound like some stupid, navel-gazing New Ager. It was always there, I
just couldn't see it. I don't hate myself any more."

Her words were simple, but Church felt a swell of affection; he knew how
deep her pain really went. If Laura had found some kind of redemption, there
was hope for all of them; for everyone. The others recognised this too. As she
looked round, for the first time she felt accepted.

"Then we really are all back together," Shavi said. "As it was intended."

"Yes, yes, yes, the stars are aligned, and God is looking down on you from
his heaven." Tom was standing in the entrance with the Bone Inspector. "Now
I suggest you get some rest. For tomorrow, as the saying goes, you may die."

Veitch slipped into a drunken sleep quickly; Shavi had a remarkable ability to
nap instantly, wherever he was. Tom and the Bone Inspector sat at the table,
talking quietly, their faces stern. Ruth tried to stay awake as Laura and Church
chatted, but even her faint jealousy couldn't stop her eyelids from drooping.

Laura watched the regular movement of Ruth's chest for a moment or two
before turning back to Church. "So I'll ask you again: have you and little Miss
Frosty done the monkey dance yet?"

"Laura-"

"You still don't know me, do you?" There was a trace of sadness in her smile.
"In most cultures that's known as humour."

"Are you really okay?"

"Yes, I am. For the first time in my life. So don't go giving me any pity or
I might be stirred to be my old catty self." She put her fingertips on his sternum
and pushed him down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't better to you. And that's not pity. What you did to save
Ruth ... that showed a side of you I never knew, and I feel bad for that. I
jumped to conclusions, just like everybody else."

She rolled on to her back, her hands behind her head. "It's all in the past
now. We learn, we move on, and all that shit." She looked at him from the corners of her eyes. "I'm still sorry it didn't work out between you and me, but I've
finally got a good injection of reality. It wasn't the right time, maybe we weren't
the right people, but I was so desperate I was trying to force it." She nodded to
Ruth. "You and her, you're the real deal. She's a good person, for all her many,
many problems. And you, well, you're Saint Church, aren't you? Mr. Walks On
Water."

He watched Ruth's chest rising and falling and wished he was lying next to
her. "Is it that obvious?"

"It was obvious to everybody right from the start. You were the only one who couldn't see it. Because, let's face it, when it comes to emotion, you're damaged goods."

"And you're okay about it? It's important to me. Really."

There was a brief pause in which he dreaded her answer, but then she said,
"I'm okay with it. All I really wanted was somebody to stand by me shoulder-toshoulder. I've never had that. But I was, like, where's the dog and the white stick?
It was all around me. It's stupid. The world's falling apart and right here I've got
the best friends I could ever wish for. You, the Shav-ster, even Miss Icy Knickers.
We'd have got on okay if I hadn't been the Bitch From Hell from the get-go.
Witch, well, he's about as fucked-up as it gets, but if it came to the crunch I know
he'd come through. I just hope I haven't learnt my big old life lesson too late."

He fumbled for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's a lesson we've all had
to learn. When you're looking for meaning in life, don't look at the big picture,
look at this. Look at your friends and your life and your loves-you need no
meaning other than people."

She yawned theatrically. "You're getting up your arse again, aren't you? Just
enjoy it, for Christ's sake. And don't screw up your love life this time. If she
doesn't kill you, I will." She watched him for a minute, her eyes shining, and
then she smiled, still a little sadly, and rolled over to sleep.

As Church shuffled down to rest his head on the cushion, his gaze fell on
Veitch's still form and for a fleeting moment he thought the Londoner was still
awake. The notion disturbed him, but as he slipped into sleep he couldn't quite
work out why.

The cry ripped through the camp, snapping them all awake in an instant. It was
the sound of a woman shrieking, filled with such desolation and horror it left
them frozen in shock. The cry rose, becoming more hysterical, louder, until they
thought their ears would burst, and then, just as suddenly, it snapped off. The
ringing echoes of it persisted for several more seconds.

"What the bleedin' hell was that?" Veitch's face was drained of blood.

Tom pushed himself back from the table where he had been resting his
head. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci."

"The Banshee, to you and me," the Bone Inspector said, bleary eyed.

"Bummer." Laura crashed back on to her cushions. "Bad omen-a-go-go."

Church looked to Tom. "Is it as bad as the legends say?"

"You don't need the Banshee to tell you it's not going to be a walk in the
park tomorrow." The Bone Inspector slumped back on to the table.

"Some stories say anyone who hears it will die," Ruth said. Church wished
he could comfort her, but Veitch appeared to be watching them both closely.

"You're all going to die," Tom said. "Sooner or later." He lay back down on
the table.

"Thanks for the morale boost, old git," Laura said sleepily.

"It doesn't mean death for anyone who hears it," Tom said wearily. "But it
does mean death. And destruction and suffering and devastation on an epic
scale."

"Situation normal, then." As Veitch lay down, Church steeled himself and
surreptitiously moved next to Ruth.

The others assimilated the information and after a few minutes somehow
managed to go back to sleep, but Ruth was aware Church was still lying awake.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered.

His words were given greater weight by the long pause before he replied.
"I'm thinking, where are they keeping the Wish-Hex? And when are they planning on using it?"

They were woken at first light by the sound of stirring across the camp. The
smell of cooking drifted into the tent, teasing pangs of hunger from their sluggish forms. With an effort, they dragged themselves out into a cold, clear
morning, their breath pluming; they were forced to bang their arms against
their sides in a futile bid to keep warm. It was a beautiful dawn: a full-hearted
swell of gold and purple before the sky slowly turned a pale blue; a day for hope
and love and great things, not a day for war.

The lesser gods had gathered in the various large clearings amongst the
tents, eating at long wooden tables. Church still wasn't sure that they really
needed to eat, but they relished experience with a hunger that belied their status,
as if searching for something valuable they had long since left behind. They certainly ate with gusto, shovelling down platefuls of food, swilling it down with
flagonfuls of a hot, fragrant liquid.

All of the gods appeared to be in high spirits. They called Church and the
others over with hearty shouts and made a space for them at the end of one table
with much backslapping and camaraderie. It was so out of place that all of them
felt uncomfortable. Platefuls of dried fruit and spiced meat and several loaves of
bread were brought to all but Laura and Shavi, who were given an odd but tasty
bouillabaise of tomatoes, mushrooms and peppers without having to ask. Laura
admitted that although she didn't have to eat, she too, like the gods, still enjoyed
the sensation.