The Queen of sinister

The Oxfordshire countryside was coming alive. Buds were bursting on all the branches and overgrown hedgerows, and burgeoning wildlife scurried everywhere Caitlin looked. The already crumbling roads were camouflaged with thistle and yellow grass. Caitlin fought back a wave of grief at the realisation that Grant and Liam weren't there to experience it with her. Sometimes the despair came from nowhere, like a storm at sea, and she had to battle to keep in control. Other times she was simply numb.

To distract herself, she turned her attention to Mahalia and Carlton while Crowther drove.

'Where were you going when we met you?' Caitlin asked.

Mahalia thought for a moment, then said, 'To meet you.'

Caitlin didn't hear any sarcasm in the comment, but she couldn't be sure. She still hadn't decided whether she liked Mahalia, or if the girl's sullen attitude was simply a defence mechanism.

Mahalia saw what was going through Caitlin's head and gave an annoyed shake of her head. 'Carlton saw you in his dreams. Yeah. Really. He was determined that we should come after you.'

The boy looked up at Caitlin with wide, innocent eyes that made him seem even younger. She saw in them something of Liam and instantiy wanted to hug him. 'He dreamed about me?'

Mahalia read Caitlin's expression and threw a protective arm around Carlton's shoulders. 'He's special. Aren't you, mate?' He giggled silently as she squeezed him. 'I didn't believe it at first, but he soon showed me. He sees things.'

'Visions?'

'I suppose. He knows all sorts of stuff that he shouldn't. Sometimes he has trouble making me understand exactly what he's saying, but I get most of it. He's got us out of a few scrapes. There was a time in Southampton…' She shook her head to dispel the sour memory. 'I wouldn't be here now if not for him.'

'But why me?' Caitlin said.

Mahalia's contemptuous expression said that she had no idea either.

'What is it, Carlton?' Caitlin asked gently. But all the boy would do was smile.

'He does that sometimes,' Mahalia said. 'He'll tell you in his own good time.'

'So when were you going to tell me this, Mahalia?'

'Oh, soon,' the girl replied lightly.

Caitlin didn't fall for it. She wondered what else lay behind Mahalia's diamond-hard exterior that the teenager wasn't revealing. They made their way through picturesque villages that belied the advent of the Fall. In many of them, life appeared to go on as normal: wisps of smoke floated up from the chimneys of stone houses and washing fluttered on lines in back gardens. Villagers out on their errands would stop and stare in amazement as the car roared by, wondering what the apparition signified. Other lanes were blocked by horse-drawn carts transporting produce from one village to the next, the drivers yanking the reins tight to prevent their horses from shying at the unfamiliar beast.

Eventually, reaching a minor road along a windswept ridge on the edge of the Cotswolds, Crowther pulled up against a mass of vegetation that had once been the verge.

'We're here?' Caitlin said, looking for some sign of a specific destination. All she could see were untended fields turned wild, and burgeoning hedgerows and copses.

Crowther grunted something incoherent in response and set out along the road without waiting for the others, his staff clattering an insistent rhythm. Mahalia and Carlton crawled out from behind the seats, stretching aching muscles. It was still and peaceful, with insects flitting over the long grass and birds singing in every tree.

As Caitlin, Mahalia and Carlton hurried to catch up with the professor, the chattering at the back of Caitlin's head grew louder as her inner selves became feverishly excited.

Mahalia could feel something, too, for the contempt had left her face to be replaced by an out-of-place uncertainty. 'Where are we going?' she asked. Carlton gave her hand a supportive squeeze; of all of them, he appeared the most at ease.

Crowther pointed to a weather-worn rock rising up in a field to their left. Rusty iron railings imprisoned it. 'Well, there's part of it,' he said gruffly. He turned swiftly through a gate concealed by overgrown vegetation and led them past a small hut with yellowing pamphlets in a dirty display case. And then they were there.

Surrounded by trees and hedges on three sides was a small stone circle forty strides across. Only a few of the pockmarked, eroded limestone pillars still stood tall. The majority were broken stumps. On the fourth side, two gateway stones opened out on to sunlit fields rolling down into a valley.

'The Rollrights,' Crowther intoned. 'A Neolithic stone circle.'

'This is where we get to that other world?' Caitlin asked.

'Where we'll make the attempt to cross over.' Crowther led the way cautiously, his darting eyes searching amongst the trees.

They paused on the edge of the circle, which Crowther defined with a wave of his hand. 'These are known as The King's Men.' He turned and pointed in the direction of the stone now hidden behind the hedge across the road. 'The King Stone.' And then away across the fields to the east, where they could just make out four upright stones and one fallen. 'The remains of a chambered long barrow, now known as the Whispering Knights. Legend says they are a king and his knights turned to stone by a witch. Some of the locals say the stones come alive at midnight, performing strange ritual dances… they even go down to Little Rollright Spinney over there to get a drink. Stories like that are one of the hidden sources of information I spoke of earlier. The suggestion of transformation and magic tells me the ancients believed this place had a special power — that's what we need to tap into, the reason why we're here.'

Caitlin expected Mahalia to make some sneering comment, but the girl remained on edge and watchful.

'I'm not sure I like it here,' Caitlin said.

'You're responding to the atmosphere. This is a special place,' Crowther replied.

'What do you mean?'

'It has a unique ambience, a confluence of subtle alterations to the quality of the light, the scents of the vegetation, the temperature… and on an unseen level, patterns of background radiation, ultrasound, anomalous radio signals. What you're feeling is the shock of a new experience. It's quite… destabilising. You'll get used to it.'

Mahalia didn't look convinced. She put her arm around Carlton again and led him away to one side where she whispered to him insistently, flashing occasional urgent glances at Caitlin.

Crowther moved to the tallest of the nearby stones and held out one hand, as if to touch it. But then he hesitated, as if he were about to plunge his hand into water that could be freezing cold or boiling hot. He steeled himself, then clamped his palm on the surface before smiling. 'Power, you see. Infused in every molecule.'

'What kind of power?' Caitlin asked.

'Ah, that's the question. Something science never quite got to grips with. This place is like a battery… no, like a node on some national energy grid.' He removed his hat and leaned forward until his forehead was gently touching the cool rock. 'There was a research group called the Dragon Project working here in the late seventies, early eighties, looking into the notion of some kind of telluric energy — earth energy. Airy-fairy, you might say.' He laughed. 'New Age nonsense. But then a Geiger counter picked up sudden surges of radiation, something that only seemed to happen at megalithic sites. And then they found pulses of ultrasound, strange radio signals, short bursts, like a homing beacon. They never did get to the bottom of it.'

Caitlin realised that Crowther was right: she was starting to feel better, attuning herself to the subtle energies of the place. The chattering voices had quietened, and an abiding peace rose in her heart. She breathed deeply, tasting the trees and grass and rock. But there was still memory, tugging her back. 'How long have we got?' she said.

Crowther looked at the sky, an ages-old shaman divining the wind and clouds. 'Not as much time as I'd like.'

'You don't think the Whisperers will leave us alone?'

'No. Do you?' He eyed her cautiously before deciding not to let it spoil his mood. 'It's going to be a lovely day. Make the most of it.' The morning passed slowly. They lit a fire on rough ground beyond the hut and cooked up a meal of eggs and herbs, stolen by Mahalia from a farm they had passed during the night. Caitlin's plea that they in some way pay for the produce had been cut short by the angry farmer and his sons chasing them furiously away.

The day was warmer than they could have expected for that time of year. Caitlin and Mahalia took turns keeping watch while Crowther busied himself with things he insisted were necessary for whatever ritualistic endeavour he had planned for sunset, though Caitlin was convinced he was simply trying to avoid doing any real work.

It was during her third watch in the early hours of the afternoon that Caitlin became entranced by sparkling lights high up in the trees. Just the pleasing play of sunlight in the branches, she thought, until she realised that the glimmering moved of its own accord. She watched the glitter trails with distracted curiosity, lost in the dreamy peace that had crept over her since she had become accustomed to the Rollrights' peculiar atmosphere. Even the sickening undertow of grief in the pit of her stomach had abated, and though she still thought of Liam and Grant every few moments, it was with the warm remembrance of happier times, not the sense of loss that physically hurt. Perhaps the lights were another manifestation of whatever caused the odd sound and radiation effects Crowther had mentioned earlier, she speculated.

But after five minutes, she realised with a growing sense of amazement that she could make out tiny forms at the heart of the lights — little people, with wings. The discovery filled her with a pure, innocent wonder that she had not experienced since she was a child. She watched them for a few more minutes until one appeared to notice her and swooped down. The figure hovered on gossamer wings, barely six inches high, its androgynous features incredibly beautiful. The skin itself exuded the golden light.

She reached out to it, but it always stayed a few inches away from her fingertips, examining her with a deep curiosity as if it was reading the depths of her mind. Eventually its puzzled face broke into a sympathetic smile and it dived forward to trace its fingers across her forehead before darting a few feet away. Its touch felt like the wings of a moth, but then a strange syrupy warmth flowed through Caitlin and in an instant even the last vestige of her grief disappeared. The being's smile became broad and warm. It waved to her once, and then soared back up to rejoin its companions in the treetops.

Caitlin could barely believe what had happened. In a rush of excitement, she ran from her lookout to tell the others what had happened.

Crowther was nowhere to be found, but Mahalia and Carlton had just returned from an exploration of the surrounding countryside. She gushed out a description of the event, ending with a passionate admission: 'It cured me! Of my grief, I mean! I'm sure it'll be back… I know it will… but for now… amazing!'

Mahalia merely nodded and said, 'Good for you.'

'You're not surprised? I mean, I'm talking about, you know, fairies or something

The girl shrugged blithely. 'I've seen things. Anybody who goes out on the road has — in the countryside, the wild areas.'

Caitlin had a sudden true perspective of the girl's age; Mahalia acted so much older than she was. 'What happened to your family, Mahalia?'

'None of your business.' Caitlin didn't need to quiz her further to guess the true picture. She knew how bad things had been in the cities — the breakdown of communication and food supplies, the riots and looting. In some areas, she'd heard tell there had been death on a grand scale. They'd all thought society had been so strong, but in the end it was as fragile as a human life.

As they made their way back to the campfire, Caitlin asked, 'Why are you coming with us? You know it could be dangerous.'

Mahalia's laugh was so bitter, Caitlin winced. The girl pulled her jacket to one side to reveal a harness of belts she'd strung together herself. It held various weapons — knives, straight razors, screwdrivers and other things that looked home-made but nonetheless lethal. 'You haven't seen what it's like out there.'

'No, I haven't. But I can guess…'

'No, you can't. Nobody could, because everyone had been fooled into thinking we're all such cosy, caring people. But take away a few home comforts and the truth really comes out.'

'I know some people-' Caitlin began in disagreement.

Mahalia laughed again. 'Listen up. I'd been hiding out in the country but couldn't find any food during that first winter, so I went into Southampton. Big mistake. All the rich folk had built a nice little compound where they'd stockpiled food and they'd found enough shotguns to keep everyone else out. The poor were left to fend for themselves in the city centre. And that's just what they did. There were gangs — young, old, black, white — all fighting for their bit of turf. They didn't care what was going on in the rest of the world, they didn't care about decency, they just cared about getting through the day. That's what happens when it comes down to survival. You'll do anything just to stay alive.'

'No…' 'Yes! I got picked up by some creepy old guy the first time I wandered in begging for food. He hit me round the back of the head with a lump of wood and dragged me back to his place, locked me in the attic with a bunch of others. He'd got a nice little business going, trading people for food… girls, boys, women…'

'For sex?'

'For anything… sex, work, stealing. I spent four nights in there — ten of us in a space as big as a van. No toilet, no light, a few crumbs of food every now and then, a few drops of water that tasted like he'd pissed in it. One woman in there… she'd got a baby. She'd been in longer than me. The kid was crying all the time, and she'd hardly got any milk. She was in a bad way. Then suddenly there wasn't any crying any more.'

Caitlin had a vivid impression of Liam in his pram. 'It died.'

'She killed it. Smothered it, because she needed all the energy she'd got just to stay alive.'

'Oh, no…'

Mahalia snorted dismissively. 'That's the way it goes. I got sold on soon after. But I wasn't anybody's property for long. I learned to look after myself. I've taken a man's eye out with a spoon, watched it bounce across the floor then squashed it with my boot in front of his good eye. And you know what? I let him off lightly — I should have had both his eyes out. I've stabbed a screwdriver into somebody's ribs while they were sleeping to collapse a lung. But I've never been raped! I'm proud of that. All the sick bastards out there, and nobody's ever took me.'

Carlton shook her shoulder roughly; he had tears in his eyes.

'I'm sorry, mate.' Mahalia gave him a squeeze, then said to Caitlin, 'This place is hell. People make it hell. It can't be any worse where you're going.' Caitlin drew patterns in the soil with a twig while she weighed Mahalia's words. Finally she said, 'I've seen terrible things happen — not like that, not things people do to each other but… bad things. And you mustn't ever let yourself think that the bad people are everything. Yes, they exist, but the best of humanity is out there, too. People helping each other… making incredible acts of sacrifice. I honestly believe most people are good.'

'We'll have to agree to differ there.' Mahalia suddenly jumped to her feet, pulling out a knife from under her coat.

Caitlin whirled to see a figure coming towards them out of the glare of the sun. It was a man, but not Crowther.

'Don't come any nearer,' Mahalia said.

He held up his hands, then moved slightly so that the sun was behind a tree and they could all see him. He was in his early thirties, good looking with blond hair and blue eyes that reminded Caitlin slightly of Leonardo DiCaprio; a sensitivity was embedded in his features that made her instantly warm to him.

'I didn't mean to scare you…' he began.

'You don't scare us,' Mahalia said. 'We just don't like you.'

'You're going to try to cross over, aren't you?' He fixed his attention on Caitlin.

Mahalia shifted suspiciously, looking to Caitlin for a lead.

'You don't have to answer — I can see it in your faces.' He lowered his hands slowly. 'I want to come with you.'

'Who are you?' Caitlin asked. 'And how do you know what we're doing here?'

'Matthew Jensen. Matt. Architect by trade. I know what you're all thinking — "Let's get him on board — that's a skill we really need." But it could be worse. I could be an estate agent. How do I know what you're doing here? You mean, how do I know all about crossing over, and that there is actually somewhere to cross over to? Well, long story.'

Carlton watched him curiously but openly, then motioned towards the fire.

'Carlton wants to know some more,' Mahalia translated. 'Me, I think, why would we need you tagging along? But I'm reasonable… I'll give you a chance to convince us. You've got five minutes.'

'Five minutes? I can give you my life story in half that.' He headed for the fire and sat down.

Caitlin had already warmed to his self-deprecating manner, but she couldn't see any advantage in him joining their motley crew. If she hadn't been so unstable at the time, she probably wouldn't have been eager to encourage Mahalia and Carlton to go along with them. 'So how do you know what we're planning?' she asked, sitting next to him. The question came to her in the screeching tones of Brigid, who seemed to have taken an interest in Matt.

'Simple. You wouldn't be here for any other reason,' Matt replied. 'The countryside's too dangerous to be wandering around alone. If you had any sense you'd be holed up with your community. And this place… all these kinds of places… the stories that build up around them keep everybody away. It's not exactly a top holiday destination.' He motioned to the haunting stones. 'During the Fall, I met someone who told me that all these ancient sites were doorways to the place where the gods came from. You know about them, right? You heard the stories… what happened to London? So, the nutter alarm went off. You smile and nod and shuffle away. But then I saw the lights over the stones at the solstices, the shapes passing through — not human, you know? — heard the music — God, the music!' He gave a faintly embarrassed smile. 'Sorry. You had to have heard it for yourself to understand, I guess.'

'So why would we want to go to that place?' Mahalia asked. Caitlin could see that she wasn't warming to Matt. 'And what makes you think we know how to?'

'I don't know if you do, but I do know a lot of people would like to find a way through to that place, for a whole load of different reasons. My reason? Simple.' He looked openly into all their faces, laying himself bare before them. 'I think my daughter's over there.'

A bird cry, low and mournful, made them all jump; Caitlin realised she had been hanging on his words. 'You think your daughter crossed over?'

'I think they took her… something did.' He took a deep, calming breath. 'It seems to me that place and the things that live there are responsible for all our old stories and legends. We've been misidentifying them for thousands of years — angels and devils, fairies, UFOs — I don't know, Men in Black. And you know the old stories about changelings? How the fairies would take human babies? Do you know how many people go missing every year? Tens of thousands in Britain alone. Every year. And I reckon some of them end up over there… for whatever reason.' He looked away from them into the trees, but he couldn't hide his concern.

'How old's your daughter?' Caitlin asked.

'Eight. At least, she would be now. She's been gone nine months. Somebody from the village saw her up here just before she disappeared, even though she knew she was supposed to keep well away from this place. I've searched everywhere — every ditch, wood, lake…' He shook his head. 'This is my last chance.'

'I'm so sorry,' Caitlin said. 'I know what it's like…' She caught herself. 'Is your wife coping OK?'

'She left a long time ago, when Rosetta was two. I haven't seen her since.' He reached out his arms towards them. 'If you know a way over, take me with you. Please. The way I see it, there's safety in numbers. I'm fit. I can look after myself.'

'So can we,' Mahalia said.

'I'm sure you can, but one extra person to keep watch at night can only be a good thing, surely.'

Caitlin didn't have to think; how could she refuse him? 'Of course you can come,' she said, 'if we can get over. I'm still not convinced.'

He smiled. 'Thanks for trusting me.' Mahalia clearly didn't want to hang around the adults any more than she had to, so Caitlin and Matt went for a walk through the waist-high grass of the adjoining field. They felt safer out in the open away from the clustering trees where there always seemed to be something lurking, just out of sight.

Though she knew little about him, Caitlin felt a connection between them. He had a sharp wit, but she could sense something much more troubling just beneath the surface. She wanted to find out more about him, but he was the one who asked the first questions as they walked.

'Are you OK?' he asked. 'Because there's something… I don't know… sad about you. Or is that just me being my usual imperceptive self?'

The familiar swell of grief hit her so hard that she almost gasped. The usual response was to damp it down into that area where Brigid, Briony and Amy could wrap the harrowing pain in cotton wool until it felt as if it was just a dream, and everything that caused it had never happened. Yet this time was different. After a brief, choking hesitation, she began fitfully to tell Matt all about Grant and Liam. She couldn't hold back the tears and Matt didn't appear to mind, so she let them flow. The racking sobs made her chest feel as if she'd crawled out from under a landslide.

Matt waited for them to subside and then said, 'I'm sorry. I feel like such a fool talking about my problems when you've been through all that-'

'No!' Caitlin said, horrified. 'Don't ever say that! All my life's in the past now. You've got a chance to save Rosetta, that's the important thing.'

'There isn't a thing I can say that won't sound like daytime TV advice, but don't talk about your life being in the past-'

'Well, it is.' They reached the jumble of stones that Crowther had called the Whispering Knights. Iron railings protected them from prying fingers, but Caitlin desperately wanted to touch their cool surface. When I started out on the road to this place, I was in a terrible state… didn't really know what I was doing. When I finally came to my senses and the professor told me what he planned… well, if I was a sane, rational woman with everything to live for, I would have walked away there and then. I can still barely believe that this mythical Otherworld really exists, but the professor is convinced. If it doesn't, we've got nothing to lose. But if it does, we're going to a place filled with dreams and nightmares… a place where humans aren't supposed to exist. How long do you think we might possibly last there?'

'But we've got to try, haven't we?'

Caitlin reached across the railings and just managed to touch one of the stones; her fingers tingled in response. 'Yes, you've got to try for your daughter, and if there's a chance of finding a cure for the plague, as Professor Crowther seems to think there is, then I've got to try, because, you know, better me…'

'I wish you wouldn't be so fatalistic. It might be catching.' He stared across the sweep of the field to the trees hiding the Rollrights. 'I'm keen to meet this professor. He seems to know a lot of stuff. What is he, like Doctor Who or something?'

Caitlin laughed at the idea. 'Just wait till you meet him.'

'You trust him?' 'He seems OK. I don't think he tells the whole truth. He doesn't lie, exactly, it's just that he doesn't give you the whole picture.' Caitlin realised that Matt was staring intently back towards the standing stones. 'What is it?'

'I don't know. Probably nothing. I thought I saw something…' He gave her a tight smile. 'Look, you wait here. I'll check it out and then come back for you.'

Before Caitlin could protest, he was loping away through the grass. She waited for an uncomfortable moment, but there was an eerie atmosphere now that she was standing all alone in the wide open space and she decided to set off after Matt.

She'd only gone a few paces when there was a crack of thunder, though the sky was clear blue. A smell of burned iron rose up around her and she had the sense of a sudden, crackling light at her back. She spun round to see the Whispering Knights shimmering as if she were looking at them through a heat haze.

And then a figure emerged from behind them and rapidly began to move towards her. Her first, shocked impression was that it was some black-skinned monster with the head of a pig. Her second notion gave her a true picture: it was a knight in gleaming black armour, a sword hanging from his belt, but his helmet was in the shape of a boar's head.

'Get away!' Briony screamed from Caitlin's mouth as the knight marched implacably towards her. She turned and she ran, trying not to stumble over the uneven ground, and she knew that this was what she had seen from her window on the evening Grant and Liam had contracted the plague. It had followed her from there to here, and even in the Ice-Field that thought filled her with a powerful dread.

'What is it?' Matt had run back and caught her shoulders; she fell into his arms.

'He's coming!' Briony screamed. Matt peered over her shoulder, then slowly turned her round. The field behind was empty, save for the Whispering Knights keeping their lonely vigil. Back at the campfire, Matt managed to comprehend Caitlin's mental state with the aid of Mahalia's less than sympathetic descriptions. As she calmed, Briony receded and Caitlin returned. She was happy to see that Matt still treated her in the same friendly manner.

'I did see somebody,' Caitlin said.

Mahalia twirled a finger at the side of her head before winking at Carlton. But the boy didn't join in; his dark eyes suggested only the deepest sympathy. Caitlin smiled at him and nodded her thanks.

'Who the hell is this!' They all jumped as Crowther marched up, roaring as he jabbed a furious finger at Matt. 'Good Lord, don't you stupid people understand what we're about! Why don't you summon up every thug and bandit in the area-'

'I'm not a bandit,' Matt said, standing up and extending a hand. 'I prefer the term desperado. I've always had a cowboy thing going on.'

'Ahhhhh!' Crowther roared, throwing his arms into the air as if he were going to attack Matt. 'Get out, damn you!'

Caitlin jumped up to throw herself between Matt and Crowther. 'Professor, just a minute, I asked him to stay-'

'Is that supposed to calm me down? Someone with a tenuous grip on her own mental health finds a kindred spirit? I should beat you all to death with my staff now and be done with it!'

It took Caitlin a good twenty minutes to convince Crowther. He raged about waifs and strays and hangers- on compromising their security, and in the end Caitlin had to call on the services of a shrieking, neurotic Briony. Only then did Crowther back down, unable to cope with her psychosis.

Realising he was powerless to change anything, Crowther retired to the other side of the stones to brood, while Mahalia climbed on to the roof of the hut to throw stones at the wildlife. Carlton sat with Caitlin and Matt, listening to their conversation and smiling easily. Matt was surprised to hear Caitlin's stories of the intensity of the plague — he'd heard a couple of rumours in the local village but had seen nothing. That gave Caitlin some hope that its spread wasn't as fast as she'd feared. It was Mahalia who spotted the professor sneaking off, from her vantage point on top of the hut. She dropped down and encouraged the others to follow him, but somehow he gave them all the slip. Half an hour later, his anguished cry rang across the valley. Their blood chilled, fearing the worst, Matt led Caitlin into the field, but they found the professor staggering towards them, looking haggard. Blood trickled down either side of his face.

'What happened?' Caitlin said. She reached out to examine his wounds, but Crowther knocked her hand away. Yet the action shifted his hair and she saw, or thought she saw, a hole drilled into the side of his head. 'Who did that to you?' she asked, concerned.

'Nobody did it to me,' he snapped. 'I've been finding out the information we need — someone has to.' He barged past them, but despite his demeanour they both saw his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Back at the camp, he sat next to the fire to warm himself, though it wasn't particularly cold. 'I know how to cross over,' he said in a thin voice. 'I had an idea before, but now I know it all.' He jabbed a finger towards Caitlin. 'You're the key.'

'Me? But why me?'

'I presumed you were,' Crowther continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'And I know where we have to go for the cure once we get to wherever it is we're going. Somewhere called the House of Pain.'

Matt laughed, eliciting a glare from Crowther. 'It couldn't be called the House of Fun, could it? You're making this up.'

'I'm going to ignore you,' Crowther said, 'and just talk to her.' He indicated Caitlin. 'I was told-'

'Who told you?' Caitlin interrupted.

'That doesn't matter.' His voice was wearier now. 'But the road will be long… and hard.' The shadows stretched out as the day drew to a close and soon Crowther was ready to begin his preparations. He took them to the centre of the circle where they could watch the sky for the exact moment of sunset. None of them were prepared to back out, despite Crowther's ominous information; even Mahalia was insistent.

'So you really know what you're doing?' Matt asked in a tone that suggested he didn't think the professor knew at all. Crowther ignored him, but Matt persisted. 'People always said these stone circles had something mysterious about them,' he continued. 'Everybody thought it was just superstition.'

This time Crowther couldn't resist. 'There you have it. The clues have been before us for centuries, but in our arrogant belief that earlier people were ignorant, uneducated, superstitious barbarians, we ignored the truth that was hidden away in the old stories. Things that seem inherently stupid on the surface are metaphor and symbol. The stones coming to life, moving around, that means…'

'I'm not so sure that's a metaphor,' Caitlin whispered.

Everyone followed her gaze to the stones, which now appeared to have a thin blue light limning their edges in the setting sun. The stones themselves had taken on a ghostly quality, which could well have been a trick of light and shadow, but made it seem as if they were in one place, then another, then back again.

'The stones are dancing,' Caitlin said with Amy's voice.

'What's going on?' Matt asked.

'Reality warp,' Crowther said in a hushed voice. 'This is where we got the legend that the stones here could never be counted correctly… different answers on different days. Reality here is thin, warping with the stresses of the energies concentrated in this spot.'

'What kind of energy?' Matt asked. 'Radiation?'

'Earth energy, spirit energy — it's called the Blue Fire, and it's in everything. If I could see it, it would be so much easier to find the patterns that would help us to open the door,' Crowther complained.

'People can see it?' Matt said.

'Some. Those who've learned, or who have special abilities. You need to manipulate the Blue Fire to break through to the other side, but most normal people don't have the perception to do that.' He delved into the depths of his knapsack and pulled out a small plastic bag of some dark substance.

'What's that?' Mahalia asked suspiciously.

'Amanita muscaria. The fly agaric mushroom. These are from Mexico. You wouldn't believe the trouble I had tracking them down.'

'Magic mushrooms?' Matt said.

'I'm not eating those,' Caitlin/Amy whimpered. 'It's poison!'

'There are dangers involved in everything,' Crowther said curtly. 'Ancient Siberian shamen used these mushrooms to induce out-of-body experiences and mystical and prophetic visions. There was a cult of the sacred mushroom in Mexico. The pre-Columbian Indians, circa 1500 bc, called it God's Flesh. Academics have even stated that Amanita muscaria was a significant part of the founding of Christianity alongside Jesus Christ himself. All our religions… civilisation itself… would not have come about if not for this tiny fungus.'

'I knew a girl in Southampton who freaked out on them,' Mahalia said.

'They're not meant for everyone.' Crowther opened the bag and poured the shrivelled mushrooms into his palm. 'It's special because it activates the "God zone" in our brain and allows us to contact the divine, the place where higher forces live, the home of dreams, visions and imagination… the Otherworld. We're going to open the doors of perception.'

Mahalia shook her head. 'I don't like drugs. They stop you keeping an eye on the world. They're a luxury for the weak and the lazy.'

'We're not talking about hedonism, little girl,' Crowther said witheringly. 'We're talking about the only possible way we have of getting from here to there. Well, for you and me at least — she'll be fine.' He nodded to Caitlin, who shied away in a little-girl manner. Crowther leaned towards her. 'I'm not going to make you take them,' he said loudly and insensitively. He turned over the fungi thoughtfully. 'One codicil: Aldous Huxley said, "once the doors of perception are unlocked, the path to hell is as open as the path to heaven.'"

'Oh, give it here if it'll shut you up.' Mahalia grabbed some of the mushrooms and stuffed them into her mouth. Carlton watched her chew and swallow, then followed suit. Matt was next, a little reluctantly, and then Crowther took his portion.

'What now?' Matt asked.

'Now?' Crowther grabbed Caitlin and made her stand in the focal point of the circle. 'You wait there,' he said to her, 'and do what I say the second I say it.' To Matt, he said, 'Meanwhile, we wait for the hallucinogen to take effect… and we hope.'

A sense of awe had descended on the entire stone circle, pregnant with possibility. No birds sang; the trees barely stirred in the breeze. The sun slipped to the horizon, bringing gold to the face of the stones, ploughing long shadows into the heart of the ring.

'A fairy circle,' Mahalia said in a whisper, the first stages of the trip evident in her voice.

'Exactly,' Crowther said. 'Metaphors and symbols, all hiding a deeper truth.' They listened to the silence for a few moments and then the professor added, 'We are Psychonauts, embarking on a journey beyond reality. Few have been this way before us.'

'Let's hope we come back,' Matt said.

'Look.' Caitlin/Amy pointed past the shimmering ethereal stones to a hazy area in the field beyond. Ghostly but unthreatening figures appeared and then faded, walking through their echo-lives oblivious to Crowther and the others.

'The dream zone,' Crowther said. 'Reality is thinning.'

Caitlin glimpsed people in ancient dress, images she distantly recalled from storybooks, some dressed in clothing styles she didn't recognise, others that looked barely human. And briefly she saw five people staring back at her — a man with dark hair, another whose torso was covered with tattoos, a thin Asian man, a woman with brown hair and another with dyed-blonde hair. They appeared to be trying to communicate with her, but they were gone before Caitlin appreciated their presence. Caitlin looked round; Mahalia had seen them too.

'Magic,' Matt said dreamily. 'Everywhere.'

'In the local stories, this place was supposed to be the favourite haunt of Oxfordshire fairies and Warwickshire witches,' Crowther said. 'The last Oxfordshire fairies were seen disappearing down a hole under these stones in the eighteenth century. It was reported, written down — an eyewitness account. Amazing.' The air had grown unseasonably warm, and a hazy, cosseting feeling enveloped them all; they felt at peace yet excited about what lay ahead. Distant music floated in and out of their hearing, merging with the sound of the wind.

But just as they began to enjoy the warm, joyful atmosphere, Carlton began to whimper. Caitlin didn't have to ask what was wrong: she could feel exactly what Carlton was sensing: a dull psychic warning of impending danger. If they hadn't been in that spot, tripping, they would never have perceived it, but now it was like an alarm bell tolling.

'What's going on?' Matt asked fearfully.

'Don't get worked up,' Crowther cautioned. 'The drug will magnify your emotions. You'll panic.'

'Don't get worked up?' Amy was gone, and now the neurotic, frightened presence of Briony dominated. 'You know what's coming.'

'What is it?' Matt said, urgently.

'Things have been tracking us,' Caitlin said. 'Tracking me. They won't give up.'

'Stay calm.' Crowther laid a heavy hand on Caitlin/ Briony's shoulder.

'What things?' Matt searched the area. The sun was now just a thin line of red at the horizon, and the shadows surged everywhere amongst the trees.

'The Whisperers.' Caitlin/Briony hugged her arms around herself.

'Can you feel that?' Matt stood up, ready to roam to the edge of the circle to search the growing dark until Crowther grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down.

And then they all could feel it: a wave of black despair washing across the land, rising inexorably up to the higher ground where the stones looked out. The Whisperers were coming.

'What are they?' Caitlin/Briony asked desperately. 'How can they make us feel this way?'

Mahalia grabbed Crowther's arm and said ferociously, 'How much longer before this thing works?'

'I don't know. I don't know if it will work.'

Mahalia whirled around. 'We're too exposed here. We need to find shelter… somewhere we can defend.'

'They shouldn't be able to step into the circle,' Crowther said. 'The Blue Fire will keep them out.'

'But if we don't cross over, they can just wait outside the stones until we starve,' Mahalia said.

A thin purple light was visible far away down the valley, but drawing quickly closer.

'Come on!' Caitlin screamed. It felt as if all her occupants were struggling to gain control.

The remaining sun was just the slightest sliver, as if the sky was cut and bleeding. Yet oddly the blue glow edging the stones was growing brighter, running in veins and capillaries down the very rock as if infusing them with life. The air became charged with magic.

A ragged breathing rose above the stillness. Mahalia drew one of the knives from her harness and turned in the direction of the sound. Purple mist drifted languorously through the trees and soon after a figure came stumbling through it. But this was not one of the Whisperers. It had the shape of a man, though the purple light was leaking out of him as if he were a fractured steam pipe.

Carlton whimpered; Mahalia crouched low to the ground, ready to fend off any attack.

The figure reached the edge of the stones and they recognised him as the hermit who had tried to drive them away from the Motor Museum. But he was no longer as he had been.

'My God! What have they done to him?' Crowther breathed, transfixed.

The man could barely be called that any more. Bones protruded through his skin as if it had been broken and the frame had torn through, but without blood; instead there was that purple light. His skull shimmered in a spot where there should have been hair and scalp; an eye stared out of a harsh orbit. He somehow managed to lurch forwards even though a thigh bone was cracked and exposed. The numerous ridges and furrows of exposed bone made him resemble some kind of walking dinosaur.

And as he moved, he moaned, a thin whine of pain and despair that provided a backdrop to words that could not have been his. 'There is no hope,' he said with an unsettling, otherworldly sibilance. 'It ends here. You end here.' Rusted sword-blades emerged from both of his hands where they had been embedded in the bone.

Behind him came the dark, lumbering shapes of the Whisperers on their mounts, black against the shadows but their eyes lit with purple. The colour itself had begun to make Caitlin feel queasy. They were approaching the circle on every side, drawing in their ring of terror.

And if they couldn't enter the circle, their herald had no such qualms. He crashed across the barrier, swinging those sword-blades wildly. Mahalia ducked at the last moment, narrowly escaping the loss of her head. Carlton scampered on all fours to the other side of the circle where he was feverishly aware of the Whisperers just a stone's throw away.

The man turned on Crowther, his crazed attacks unpredictable.

'LET ME OUT!' The terrible voice roared at the back of Caitlin's head: the Fifth, the one the others all feared. 'LET ME OUT! LET ME BRING MY FURY TO BEAR!'

'No!' Caitlin told herself. 'Never, never, never.'

Matt threw himself forwards, knocking Crowther out of the path of the killing blow. The sword drove into the soft earth.

'Life winds down to decay, then death,' the herald continued. 'All things are ending, always.'

The drug was slowly working its magic in all of them, spinning up the spiral dance of the trip. The visual hallucinations were taking over from the auditory and emotional twists. The world within the circle was like a dream of bursting flowers and life, while the darkness howled at the stones from without.

'Now!' Crowther yelled at Caitlin. 'Slam your hand on the ground! There! There!' Frantically he pointed to a spot near her feet.

Caitlin did as she was told and instantly lines of Blue Fire ran from each stone towards a focal point in the centre of the ring. The coruscating energy crackled, rising up like liquid, then forming odd geometric shapes. A massive structure of shimmering sapphire was forming over them.

The herald turned on Caitlin. He pointed one of the swords towards her throat, then drove it forward. She was rooted.

Matt knocked the blade away at the point when Caitlin closed her eyes in acceptance that it was all over. The rusted metal tore through the flesh of Matt's forearm, but still he turned and smashed a fist into the herald's jaw. The attacker stumbled, off-balance. Before he could right himself, Mahalia appeared between his legs, thrusting a screwdriver up into his groin. Like a rat, she darted underneath him and came up, bringing a knife in a sideways motion across the herald's throat. Purple light was everywhere, mingling with the blue luminescence until they were all lost in colour.

As the herald went to his knees, Crowther yelled with a raw throat, 'Get to the centre! Where the light is strongest!'

They all scrambled to the place where music swirled all around like a tornado and a rush of excitement came up through the ground and into their heads. Crowther made some strange gesture with his hands, whispered a word they couldn't comprehend, and then there was a sound like thunder and the world rippled and fell away.