Part 39 (1/2)

Ace groaned as her stomach lurched. 'Fine,' she said.

'Wherever.'

They were coming down towards the village green. Ace's eyes opened in alarm. The whole area, encircled by lanes and cottages, was open, like some great wound. The centre of the green, now a deep pit, seemed as dark as midnight. The tarlike soil was alive with the fluid, alien ma.s.s.

The horse plunged down, as if impatient to be consumed by the open mouth of the creature.

Just as they were about to reach the ground, the Hunter swivelled in his saddle, pus.h.i.+ng at Ace with his broad hands.

Ace slipped from the horse, her hands scrabbling at thin air.

Then she fell into open s.p.a.ce, and the pit at Jack's heart.

Rebecca seemed to have been walking for ever. She did not know why she had left the unconscious Trevor and walked half a mile down the road to A Taste of the Orient. Neither could she recall exactly what emotions ran through her mind as she saw the bodies of Mr and Mrs Chen, lying in pools of their own blood in the road outside.

She couldn't even remember what prompted her to pick up the carving knife, which lay abandoned beside the jade lions, caked with blood. She knew only that she held it in her hands, and it was good.

She stumbled back towards the Land Rover. Her feet ached and her head was full of voices.

Do it.

Do it.

As she neared the vehicle, she could see Trevor stretched out on the gra.s.s verge. He was just beginning to stir, his face bruised and lacerated from the earlier attack.

Finish him off.

The sensation of falling had been as awful as in a dream, but Ace neither woke up nor lapsed into unconsciousness as the ground hit her.

Somehow, she had landed on her feet, and was unharmed.

She felt her legs and ankles gingerly. Not a bruise.

The pit extended fifty feet beneath the writhing surface of the green, and was the size of a house. The cavern walls - alive with the alien creature - were of natural rock, dominated by a large silver mirror.

Ace ran towards the mirror, but saw only her puzzled reflection staring back at her. 'What's this doing here?' she wondered aloud.

Suddenly something moved behind her, reflected in the mirror. She turned, and saw an impossibly tall man, dressed in white robes, held in place with a silver sash. His hair gleamed like gold.

'Right,' said Ace, 'I've had enough. Who the h.e.l.l are you?'

The tall man stooped to look down at Ace, as though he hadn't noticed her before. His face creased into a frown, and he didn't answer, seemingly unused to such communication.

'I watched the battle at Mons,' he said, obviously considering this explanation enough. His eyes were wet with an extraordinary sadness.

'The bloke who brought me here,' explained Ace, 'said I had something to do. A mission.'

The tall man nodded, but said nothing more.

Ace sighed. 'Well?'

'Smash the mirror,' said the man, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

'Why?' asked Ace.

The man smiled, his face lighting up like early-morning clouds. 'Because you want to.'

'Why can't you you do it?' do it?'

The man pushed his arm through the mirror, as if by way of demonstration. 'We can have no direct impact on Jack,' he said.

'Then the mirror is... Jack?'

The man shook his head. 'A mirror into his soul. It was an unwanted gift to Jeffreys, and was left in the pit when he sacrificed the villagers to Jack's greed.'

'Jeffreys?' asked Ace.

'Smash the mirror,' said the man, turning away from Ace.

Moments later he was out of the pit, and striding across the countryside.

'I thought you guys had halos and little wings,' called Ace after him, but the tall man was long since gone.

Ace scrabbled in the writhing soil for a rock.

The Red Lion was an old-fas.h.i.+oned-looking public house on the edge of the village of Yarcombe, some twelve miles from Hexen Bridge. Matthew Hatch caught a glimpse of the swinging sign out of the corner of his eye, and slammed on the brakes. With barely a glance in his rear-view mirror, he engaged reverse gear, and the limousine accelerated into the car park, throwing up gravel and splashes of mud.

Hatch got out, whistling and tossing his keys from hand to hand. The barman was equally pleased to see him.