Always Forever (82 page)

He knew what she was saying. "It made me realise how much I love you.
The relationship I had with Marianne was strong, but it's all in the past. What
I felt in there was about something different."

"Care to elaborate?"

Church looked at the Bone Inspector, who appeared to be considering
whether he should clout Church with his staff. "I don't think this is quite the
time."

He pushed himself to his feet, pleased at the recuperative powers the Blue
Fire gifted him. What lay ahead would be much, much worse.

After Veitch had torn the grille away from the stone, he stumbled out into the
cold waters of the Thames. The mist and smoke that had blanketed the city for
so long was drifting away, leaving a sky that was golden and pink. The rooftops
of the buildings along the south bank gleamed in the early morning light.
Everything hinted at a beautiful day.

The quickest way to his destination was obviously to swim; he was thankful
he now felt curiously immune to the chill. He kept to the shallows where he
could not be seen from the bank and let the current push him along.

The spirit energy had raised his spirits, but there was still a dark area at the
back of his head where all his worst traits lay. It was there where the selfloathing multiplied at the thought that he had failed again, not just Ruth, but
Church, everyone, the world, and that was such an enormous failure he couldn't
keep out the seductive fantasies of suicide. And it was there, where his consuming anger generated a dull heat.

Eventually the black tower was in view. He rounded a bend in the river to
see Wave Sweeper launching an attack on Balor's lair. Bizarre flashes of energy
lanced out from strange weapons positioned around the deck. The flying
Fomorii dived and soared like crows over food, but the Tuatha lle Danann didn't
allow them the slightest opportunity to get through.

As he drew closer, an enormous shadow passed over him. He craned his neck
expecting to see another Fomorii creature, and was transfixed. A Fabulous Beast
glittered like a jewelled brass robot in the sunlight, wondrous and terrible at the
same time. It swooped down towards the tower to release a blast of fire that
atomised a host of the flying Night Walkers. More of the serpentine creatures
were approaching from all directions; Veitch had never dreamed there were so
many. Columns of searing flame lanced down across the capital. As he drifted in
the current, he saw the financial district engulfed in a fireball, Docklands decimated, pillars of billowing black smoke shoot up from the West End. Wherever
the Fomorii had made their nests, the Fabulous Beasts sought them out.

Though he would dearly have loved to have joined in the simple battle of
black and white, good versus evil, he passed unseen. He entered the Tower of
London at the foot of the black tower through a riverside gate that opened on to
a sandy area and a flight of stone steps where so many important men and
women had trod before him.

Veitch still had his dagger, but it was little enough defence against what lay
ahead. As he reached the top of the steps he came across a pile of items obviously
discarded by the Fomorii as worthless. Amongst the broken doors and ripped
tourist guides, jewels shimmered brilliantly. It was only when he fished out a crown bearing a remarkable diamond that he realised he was looking at the
Crown Jewels. He considered-for a brief moment-prising out the diamond to
slip into his pocket, but then his eyes fell on an ornate sword protruding from
the bottom. He dragged out the Curtana, the Coronation Sword of Mercy. It was
blunt, but it would still be a better weapon than his dagger.

As he made his way through the Tower, he was almost disappointed that he
didn't meet any Fomorii. He was desperate to release some of the anger burning
away inside him, an unpleasant sensation that was only getting worse.

At some point he left the historic castle and found himself in the black
tower that circumscribed it. There, a pitched battle was taking place, and at the
heart of it were Shavi and Laura.

Veitch was so overjoyed to see his friends, he rushed in with a whoop, whirling
his sword around his head. His intervention cheered them immeasurably for they
had reached a point where they feared they might be overwhelmed. Vegetation tangled everywhere, but Laura hadn't learnt enough to utilise it in close quarters. Shavi
used a sword hesitantly, but his hatred of violence hampered him severely.

Once Witch had hacked a Fomorii warrior into a pile of seeping chunks, the
battle turned, although both Laura and Shavi were a little concerned at the glee
with which he despatched his enemy.

Yet it was a short-lived victory. More and more Night Walkers began to
stream in from outside. "They're trying to force us downstairs," Veitch said.
"That means we go up."

It was easier for them to hold their ground as they fought while edging
backwards up the steps. The Fomorii could stand only two abreast and as every
one fell it made it harder for the others to clamber over the bodies.

"I hope we do not meet any more coming down," Shavi said.

"I'm more concerned about what happens when we get to the top," Laura replied.

Church was beginning to wonder exactly how high the tower soared above the
cloud cover. It felt like they had been climbing for an hour or more, although
the heat hadn't diminished at all. Increasingly, explosions rocked the construction to its very core; chunks fell from the ceiling and walls. Through the windows he occasionally caught glimpses of Fabulous Beasts laying waste to the city
and was stunned by both their number and diversity. He had never seen so much
grace and power in one form, so many gleaming colours. How could humanity
have traded them away, and all the wild magic that came with them, for the
brutal rationalism of the twenty-first century?

The Fabulous Beasts provided an uplifting counterpoint to the oppressive presence of Balor looming darkly. The rising sense of threat was putting a huge
psychological strain on all of them. There was a perpetual feeling of Balor always
standing one pace behind them, ready to strike.

In a sense, that was true. Church could feel Balor's essence throbbing in the
very walls; it was all a part of him. The dark god of the Fomorii was an amorphous evil that pervaded everything, even the very air; Church could taste the
sourness when he swallowed. The atmosphere was almost painfully pregnant;
despite the power it already held, Church knew the Beast was waiting for the
Doors of Samhain to open so it could claim the undreamable force it needed to
destroy all life. It could afford to wait; they were insignificant beside it.

The steps opened out on a wide, flat area covering the entire floor space of the
tower. It was the first time they had come across a room like it, but they could
tell from the windows around the circumference that it wasn't the top. After the
claustrophobic gloom, they were pleased to see the rough holes cut in the walls
provided a pleasant amount of sunlight, but there was still not enough to illuminate the shadows at the centre of the room.

As they tentatively crossed the floor in search of the next flight of steps, they
noticed a figure sitting hunched in that dark zone, next to a shimmering motion
in the air. With weapons at the ready, they approached until they saw it was
Niamh. Church laid down the head and the Wayfinder and hurried over, but she
was so locked in her thoughts she didn't see him until he was almost upon her.

When she did look up, her face was filled with such a terrible grief that
Church stopped short. The movement all around her were golden moths rising
up to the ceiling. On the floor lay the gradually disappearing bodies of the
Tuatha De Danann guards.

Church dropped down and put his arm around her shoulders. She rested her
head against him, oddly frail for such a powerful being. "I'm sorry for your
people," he said. "Did the Fomorii hurt you?"

"There were no Night Walkers."

"Then what happened?"

She raised her head to look at him deeply, her face haunted, her eyes
damned. "I happened."

As her meaning gradually dawned on him, he looked around at the brutally
slain bodies uneasily.

"Do not think badly of me, Jack." Every part of her was shaking. "I have
committed a crime that will ensure my name is despised by my people for all
time. I never thought I had it within me to commit such a monstrous act. But
I did, Jack, I did."

Church tried to console her, but she would have none of it.

"I did it for you, Jack. For all Fragile Creatures. I did it for all existence.
And I have lost myself in the process."

Church looked round until he saw the chest a little way away. "The Wish-Hex?"

"I attempted to prevent them unleashing it. They ignored my pleas. And so
I ... I ..." Her face fell into her hands; her sobs were silent and racking.

"I know it's a terrible burden," Church said gently, "but you did do the
right-"

"You do not understand, Jack. I failed. The Wish-Hex has been set in
motion."

He stared at the chest, suddenly cold despite the heat. "In motion?"

"There is no stopping it now. Soon, very soon, it will begin."

Church fought back a wave of despair. The odds had always been incalculable, but now it truly was hopeless. He began to ask her how long it would take
for the energy to drive the plague across the world, then caught himself; it
didn't really matter. The Tuatha De Danann would get what they wanted: a universe free of competition.

He helped her to her feet. "Don't worry. You did your best." He looked
across at the others, wondering whether to tell them that whatever they now did
was futile.

Niamh took his hand. "There will be an ending, Jack, but it might not be
how you imagine," she said as if she could read his mind.

"But what can we possibly-"

He was interrupted by the sound of violent fighting rising from the stairwell. Ruth rushed over to investigate before calling back excitedly, "It's Shavi,
Ryan and Laura." The hope in her face made him feel even worse.

"We need to keep going," he shouted.

The Bone Inspector sniffed the air like an animal. "I think we're nearly there."

"Then they'll do anything they can to try to stop us."

"Time's running out," the Bone Inspector continued. He looked more worried than Church had ever seen him. "Not long left now."

"Will you stop it with the countdown!" Church snapped.

Laura and Shavi emerged at the top of the steps. Veitch was just below,
holding back the Fomorii. "There's bleedin' millions of them now!" he yelled.
"They're not bothering with the ship any more. They just want us!"

Ruth came running up to him. "The next flight of steps are just over there."

"Okay, shout down to Ryan. When he reaches the top of his steps, he'll just have
to run for it." He turned back to Niamh, who had lifted the chest easily. "What's the
point in taking that along with us? We might as well leave it here now."

"I am afraid of it falling into the hands of the Night Walkers. They created
this Wish-Hex. They may know some way to ensure it destroys only Fragile
Creatures."

"I appreciate what you've done, Niamh, more than you can know." Her sad
smile told him how much his words meant to her.

He called Ruth over to help Niamh with the chest while he reclaimed the
Wayfinder and the head; its blue glow was coming out in waves, accompanied
by a dim but insistent hum. The features continued to move; Church had the
unnerving feeling the head had been listening to them.

At the foot of the steps, he waited, urging the others up ahead of him. Eventually Veitch came sprinting past.

"You all right, boss?" he said with a grin.

"Fine and dandy." As he leapt on to the steps at the rear, Church threw one
backwards glance and was instantly chilled. Flooding the vast room was what
appeared to be a river of shadows. He knew it was the Fomorii, but it was like
one entity, of one mind. It moved and spread with such speed he guessed there
must be hundreds, if not thousands, of the Night Walkers pouring in.

Then the awful sight was wiped out in an instant by a blinding revelation.
"What's that foul smell?" he called out.

Ruth's voice floated back. "It's the Fomorii. Nuada told me that when the
Caraprix is in control it stimulates that stink."

Church felt sick and shaky as numerous troubling thoughts slotted into
place. It was the same smell he recalled from the Walpurgis-induced vision of
the night Marianne was murdered; and he had smelled it, too, when Tom had
been driven to betray them in the Lake District. His pounding heart threatened
to burst.

The traitor amongst them was being controlled by a Caraprix. That was
why he couldn't imagine one of his closest friends selling them down the river;
any acts of betrayal would be against type, and therefore unexpected. The
Fomorii must have implanted the parasite months ago. Their scheming was
unparalleled: back-up plan after back-up plan, and now this, the final defence to
prevent their defeat.