[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

said nothing.
?Because I m not a tawny owl, many voices murmured the response. ?They came for the water voles,
and I said nothing, piped up Jackie Dando,
Romany and ex-regular, entrepreneur who kept the band supplied with drugs.
?Because I m not a water vole, the sad chorus answered.
?They came for the buttercups, sighed Brock, one broad hand on the hilt of the
naked sword at his side, the other tucked in his rifle sling. ?And I said nothing.
?Because I m not a buttercup, moaned the barmies, mournful and low.
Fergal, tramping beside Sage in the middle of the troop, glanced curiously at
the living skull, clearly wondering what to make of this. Oh, you wait, thought
Sage. You have no idea. They can keep the litany going indefinite.
?Brock.
?Yeah, Sage?
?Shut the fuck up.
From the top of a rise they looked down on a small wood, roughly circular, a
red earth track connecting it to one of the little grey lanes that wandered over the
plain of the Trent. They knew there was a clearing in the centre, obscured by
foliage. Their tech couldn t give them much detail. Wethamcote, with its church
towers, couple of tower blocks, suburban housing, lay to the west. A farm and
outbuildings stood about a mile away; there was no track between the farm
buildings and the wood.
?The clearing wasn t there six years ago, said Ax, ?for what that s worth . . .
It s a likely candidate; let s get down there.
Onward. ?It ll be the horse-sacrifice, said one barmy to another, ?that s the biggie.
?You seen it done? asked his partner, in a cautious undertone. They knew
what Ax thought about blood-daubed Pagan rituals.
?Er, yeah, as it happens. Down in Kent, last year. Just out of curiosity.
?That must make a fuck of a mess, disembowelling a live horse to death.
?You bet. Don t worry, if we find an active venue there ll be no doubt.
Ax was in the lead, watching the silent fields, feeling the mood of the barmies;
missing Sage s physical presence at his side, but they couldn t both nursemaid
the Irishman . . . He should have known that the smack meant trouble. But he
had reached for that solace himself, when he was hard-pressed, and he hadn t
had the heart to blame the guy. Shit, if I lose David Sale, what then? The choices
that he d made were forcing him down an ever-narrower path, to an end which
he had foreseen, but foresight doesn t help. I ll have to quit the band, he thought.
Jordan s right, this isn t fair. I have to admit that my life as a musician is over.
It felt like death. It felt like an unforgivable crime
They reached the wood. The men fanned out, muttering about armed, sentient
trees, trained to attack like Navy dolphins. Cyborg birds with cameras for eyes,
Wiccan spiderwebs wired to the police station (obviously the police in town were
raving Pagans, or they d have closed the hardcore down). The jokes were many,
but there was an edge to them. Ax kept his rifle on his back; so did Sage. The lads
got into comfort mode. ?Please, said Ax, resignedly, ?don t open fire on any squirrels, badgers, or
bluetits 
?N-not unless they shoot first, right Ax?
?Nothing s going to happen.
Their tech said there was nothing warm and big here besides themselves. The
trees were thick and in full leaf. The lads moved through them, commendably
silent. Everyone reached the perimeter of the clearing more or less together, and
found a tall wattle fence around it, as if holding back the trees. There was a gate:
barred but not secured; they went in. Inside the earth was bare and level, as if
beaten by many feet. On one side, incongruously, stood a grey prefabricated hut,
like a festival ground toilet block. The centre space was taken up by a gaping,
smooth-walled pit, dug out to a startling depth. At the bottom, in the midst of
the pit, stood two dark trunks of carved wood, like totem poles. Lashed to the
top of each of these was the remains of a human body: a young man and a young
woman. They seemed to have been naked, but it was hard to tell, through the
blood, after the way the bodies had been ripped apart.
There was a thick butcher-shop smell, mingled with other scents less insistent:
an earthy incense, piss and sweat, fecal matter, grease and fear.
?Fuckin hell, said Jackie, pleased, ?how s that for a smoking gun?
?Shit, gasped another lad, more attentive. ?How? H-how d they do that?
The totem poles were very tall, three, four metres: and the bodies appeared to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]