Essential. He’d said that to her. She tried not to think too much of it, just as she tried not to probe too deeply into her own feelings. Far from the priority right now, she reminded herself. Whatever she felt, whatever he felt, didn’t rise up to the fate of worlds.
He slowed, veered off onto a narrow, bumpy track.
“We walk from here,” he told her. “Bran’s car can’t handle this.”
She swung off. “How far?”
“A little more than a kilometer.”
He paused, looked left over a stone wall to a small farm where a spotted dog napped in the sun and cows grazed in a field beyond.
As he stood, the farmhouse with its blue trim, the outbuildings, an old tractor, even the spotted dog faded away.
There on the field and up the rising hill sheep cropped. A shepherd boy sat dozing, propped against a rock. He opened his eyes, pale blue, and looked back at Doyle.
“Do you see him there?”
“The dog?”
“The boy. He watched me that day. He watches me now.”
“There’s no boy.” Riley kept a hand on his arm, looked back as Bran walked up with the others.
“His hair’s almost white under his cap. He’s half asleep, with his crook over his lap.”
“There’s a smear over the air.” Bran lifted a hand, pushed. Narrowed his eyes against the resistance, pushed again.
The pretty farm sat quiet, and the dog slept on.
“She’s working on you, man.”
Doyle nodded at Sawyer’s words. “Up this track, about a kilometer. The cave’s in a hillock of rock and sod. There’s a small pond outside it. It swam black that day.”
And what lived in it, he remembered as they began to walk, had slithered under the oily surface like snakes.
Now along the narrow track were the yellow lilies and overgrown hedgerows dripping with fuchsia. A magpie winged by.
One is for sorrow.
As they neared he saw the signs and talismans—carved in wood or stone, fashioned from stick and straws. Warnings and protections against evil.
As the others said nothing, he knew they saw only the rambling stone wall, the wildflowers, the scatter of cows in the field.
A raven swooped down, perched on the wall. As Riley reached for her gun, Doyle stayed her hand. “You see that, at least.” He pulled his sword, cleaved the bird in two.
Trees sprang up, and birds called from them. The cheerful, country birds that did no harm. Through the trees, he caught the glint of water from the pond. He angled right, strode through the sheltering grove.
Dark blue water amid wild grasses and choked with lily pads.
Then black and oily, rippling with what lived beneath.
“What do you see?” he asked Riley.
“A lily pond that needs some clearing out.”
“Another smear.” Once again Bran held up a hand. “And through it, the water’s thick and black.”
“The cave.” Sasha gestured to the high, dark mouth. “Blood and bones. A cauldron bubbling with both. It’s not clean, not clean. She lies, and everything inside is a lie.” Sasha let out a breath, steadied herself. “She’s waiting.”