Always Forever (73 page)

Veitch leaped for the branch and swung, dropping down on to another path.
Pain flared in his ankle as he landed. He stifled a yell, clutched at it and hobbled off as the path wound round into a dense thicket of trees.

A minute later the Fomorii were there. But as they turned into the shadowy
grove they were confronted by Nuada and Lugh poised on either side of the path.

Veitch was leaning against a tree, taking the weight off his ankle. "Could
be worse," he said with a shrug. "You could be dead."

The Fomorii were still struggling with their surprise as Lugh stepped in and
gutted one, while Nuada lopped the head off another. As the third started to
transform into something more offensive they both swung their swords to dismember it.

"Oh, well." Veitch eyed the steaming corpses with a confident grin.

Across the cemetery, golden shapes flitted like autumn shadows. The remnants
of gleaming sable bodies hung from crosses and angels, were strewn across stone
boxes or were slumped against the walls of mausoleums where the ivy flapped
against their caustic cavities.

Veitch guided it all with a consummate eye for detail, and when he was convinced enough damage had been done in the limited time they had available, he
directed the Tuatha De Danann to depart. They slipped amongst the stones to
the perimeter wall, and even with Veitch limping, they were not seen once.

Ruth waited in the shadows of Highgate Station ticket office, watching the
loosed horses canter along the road in the fading afternoon light. Hundreds if
not thousands of the beasts were now roaming through the streets of North
London, covering their tracks with great efficiency.

Barely a quarter of the Tuatha De Danann force had streamed down the
cramped winding staircases of Archway tube station under her guidance before
she had decided to move on to avoid the Fomorii. Many more now waited at the
foot of the terrifyingly deep shaft at Highgate, the deepest-if her memory
served correct-on the entire tube network. Without any of the lifts working,
it had taken them an age to filter through the tiny station and on to the stairs,
clutching makeshift torches from any wood they could find in the vicinity. And all the time her heart had been in her mouth, expecting the Fomorii to sweep
down on them when they were in no position to defend themselves.

But somehow they had done it, leaving her to wait alone in painful anticipation for Veitch and the others to arrive. She clutched the Spear close to her
side for comfort, feeling the warm pulse of it, the soothing heat. Strangely it
appeared slightly different from when she had first received it, less rough, with
more delicate inlays of brass and silver.

She hadn't given a thought to what the next twenty-four hours would bring;
indeed, if she were honest with herself, she would have admitted that for several
weeks she had anticipated a terrible end for all of them. It didn't frighten her
anymore. When things were so likely, you made your peace with the outcome
and moved on. As she stood there, she was surprised and a little disturbed to
realise the worst thought that crawled around her head was that Veitch would
not make it. Had his uncontrollable anger driven him to make some stupid mistake? Had his overweening bravado left him lying in a pool of blood in some
Godforsaken backstreet? She was afraid of examining the subject too deeply for
fear of what she would find.

She loved Church-she knew she did-but a part of her still had deep affection for Veitch; more than friendship, less than amore, not enough to make a
song, more than enough to fill her with a consuming sadness that she might
never see him again. Even her emotions had been so much simpler before the big
change; now she couldn't even count on herself.

When she saw the glimmer of gold skin in the grey streets, and Veitch at
the centre of them, dark hair flying in the breeze, she wiped her eyes, heaved in
several deep breaths and turned towards the stairs.

"You're falling apart, Ryan. Losing a hand, now twisting an ankle." Ruth held
the torch higher. The darkness receded along the walls of the stairwell like a
living creature.

"We all heal quick." Veitch limped down the steps heavily, clutching on to
the rail for support. Behind them Nuada, Lugh and the other Tuatha De Danann
traipsed silently.

Veitch's mood had turned dark once more. Ruth saw it in his face the moment
he had entered the tube station. Once he had passed into the gloom of the stairwell he locked himself off even further, his replies to her questions clipped and
curt. There was something ineffably dangerous about him. In its milder form it
was attractive, but when he got like this she was glad he was on their side.

By the time they reached the platform, Ruth's heart was pounding and her breath
was short. She was surprised and disturbed by how much the claustrophobic darkness was affecting her; even with the torches, it was impossible to see more than a
few feet. Although she'd been on that platform several times before, in that state
it was oppressive and alien. She was acutely aware of the massive weight of earth
piled up over her head. The air was stale without the circulation system working
and it smelled of damp and burnt oil. It was also extremely cold. With an effort,
she fought back a desperate urge to get back to the light.

"Where's the rest of them?" Veitch asked.

"I sent them down the line to rendezvous with the others at Archway." Her
voice sounded strained, with incipient panic tightening its grip around her airways.

"You know it's a bleedin' maze down here. They could get lost-"

"Sorry," she snapped, sarcastically. "I foolishly thought there wasn't any
time to lose."

"All right. I suppose we just have to take chances." He lowered himself
down and slid off the lip of the platform on to the tracks.

Ruth hesitated a moment before following suit. She moved in close to
Veitch. Lugh and a couple of the other Tuatha De Danann led the way cautiously, while the rest guarded the rear.

At the end of the platform, the black hole of the tunnel loomed up in the
flickering torchlight; a mouth ready to swallow them, Ruth thought. Her skin
grew cold as she stared into the darkness and she was overcome with a sudden
premonition of a grave and none of them ever seeing the light again.

"What's that?" Her heart rattled frantically when she glimpsed a fleeting movement on the edge of the light.

Everyone froze. "Didn't see anything," Veitch whispered.

"There's definitely something there." Her voice was taut.

Lugh had found some oily rags on the tracks, which he tied into a large knot
and lit with his torch. He whirled it once round his head and hurled it along the
tunnel in front. The shadows rushed fearfully along the arc of the tunnel, but
what was caught in the light for the briefest moment made Ruth shudder.

A sea of rats were frozen in the sudden glare, from wall to wall and as far as
the light carried, their eyes glittering coldly. The sickening tableau was there
only for an instant. As the burning rag fell, they retreated frantically, one
brown-furred mass, rippling sinuously, until a second later the entire area was
clear. The sound of scratching on metal rails faded away down the tunnel.

"Good job we have light," Veitch said. "They're fierce little bastards when
they're hungry or cornered. I wouldn't fancy our chances against them in the dark."

"There were so many of them!"

"These tunnels were always infested. The whole city was. They used to say
you were never more than three feet away from a rat. I expect it's worse now,
with all the bodies and everything."

The image conjured by Veitch's comment made Ruth sick. "You know
there's a danger some of the tunnels could be flooded," she said, changing the
subject. "None of the pumps are working."

"That's the least of our worries."

"Do you think the Fomorii are down here?"

"They might use some of the tunnel system, but they'll be going about their
business. They won't be looking out for us."

Ruth thought about this for a moment. "Are you sure? They've always been
pretty smart in their planning. Second-guessing us, setting up all those backup
plans if the main one didn't work. I know Calatin's gone, but there's always
Mollecht and God knows what else-"

"Well, you be the bleedin' strategist, then."

"I'm just offering an opinion. I'm allowed to speak, you know."

"That's all you bleedin' well do."

"Get lost." She shoved him hard so he fell on to his injured ankle.

He cursed vehemently and turned, his face transformed by fury, his fists
bunched. It was so terrifying she dropped the torch, which sputtered and fizzled
but didn't go out.

"Give me that!"

"No!" She fended him off and snatched up the burning wood.

"If the torches go out we're screwed!"

"I know that!"

"Well, keep a hold of it then, you stupid-"

"What?" She rounded on him.

"Nothing." He realised he'd overstepped the mark.

"What were you going to say?" Her voice was edgy and shrill.

"Come on." He marched on ahead sheepishly. "Don't do this here," he said
under his breath, "not in front of them."

"Who cares what they think?"

"I do."

They continued in silence for several minutes while Ruth's seething temper
calmed. Finally she said, "You should see a therapist about all that repressed
anger. The slightest thing and it comes bursting out."

He wasn't going to answer, but then he said quietly, "It never used to be a
problem."

"You've had it as long as I've known you. And let me tell you, it's a liability.
You fly off the handle at the slightest thing and you stop thinking rationally-"

"All right."

"We can't afford that-"

"I said all right!" He realised a second later that he'd done it again, but
instead of apologising he speeded up his step until he caught up with Lugh and
the point men.

They continued that way for half an hour, with Ruth wrapped in a shroud of
loneliness, listening to the unforgiving echoes bounce crazily around, hinting at
strangers nearby but never quite revealing anything. No one spoke; the atmosphere had grown more intense the further they progressed into the tunnels.
Ruth couldn't shake the feeling there was some terrible threat lying in front of
them, staying only a step or two ahead of the advancing torchlight.

Veitch kept his head down, but she could tell from his rigid shoulders that he
was aware of her behind him. She wondered if she had been too harsh on him; the
strain had been making her increasingly snappy. The niggle of guilt she felt told
her it probably wasn't as one-sided as she had pretended. Veitch had performed an
exemplary service; if only the stupid emotional side didn't keep getting in the way,
she would be able to give him the wholehearted praise he really deserved.

As they passed through Archway station, the torchlight flared up over the
tiled walls and a nagging doubt grew full-born. "Where are the others?" she
asked to no one in particular.

Veitch hesitated before turning round. "Probably took a wrong turn somewhere," he replied. Ruth thought he sounded a little abashed.

"With a whole army traipsing through here, you'd expect to hear some
echoes. Wouldn't you?"

They all halted to listen. There was nothing at all; the air felt dead. "Maybe
they accidentally crossed over to the northbound tunnel," Veitch suggested.
"Who knows? There might be a whole load of service tunnels we don't even
know about. In the dark back there anyone could have taken a branching track
without knowing."

Veitch could easily have been right, but the weight on their hearts grew
heavier nonetheless.

Ruth lost all track of time. The only sign of the passing minutes was the growing
ache in her legs and the dull parade of platforms that had once meant nothing more
than a commuter liminal zone between work and home. Now they were stations on
the road to Hell, their names emblazoned on her mind: Tufnell Park, Kentish Town, Camden Town, Euston, King's Cross, Angel. She knew the next one would
be Old Street and then they would be in the heart of the City. And by that time,
she guessed, they would know exactly what troubles they were facing.

At one point, near King's Cross, they had heard the dim sound of clashing
weapons and shouts echoing from one of the myriad tunnels converged there.
They presumed it was the main Tuatha De Danann force encountering resistance somewhere.

Nuada was keen to reunite with his comrades to offer support if needed, but
Veitch argued fiercely against this. The tunnel system was so complex the
chances of locating them were slim-they could spend days wandering around
down there, he stressed. And time was not on their side; at least some of them
had to reach their destination.

After a heated debate, Nuada once again gave in, though Ruth could sense
his patience with a Fragile Creature was growing thin.