Part 39 (1/2)

It was red, vicious. Blind.

Ecstatic.

He wrestled with it frantically, staggering back from the sea's edge, clutching at his head, hearing nothing but the raging of the waves. He did not see Kate's terror as the swirl of jasmine-scented dust settled over her.

*Jon!' He heard her voice distantly; it was frightened; screaming. *Greg! Do something! Marcus has got him! Help him! Greg, help him! Help me!'

*No, not Marcus.' Suddenly Greg was laughing. *Marcus is here. With me! Nion's possessed him.' The name had come to him so easily a the name his wife had screamed into a Beltane dawn. Nion the Druid.

The voices were growing fainter, the sound of the sea louder. Suddenly Greg was afraid. Marcus was there; Marcus was inside him. Turning, he ran towards the water. He could feel the waves icy against his ankles, taking away all the pain. The shock of the cold stunned him.

Fight. He had to fight. The water was deeper now, sucking round his knees. Cold. Clean. Powerful.

Fight. Fight the Roman.

Fight or die.

Where was Roger? He had promised. Dad, help me! Help me fight him. Dad, please. His voice rose in pain and fear and anger.

A wave slammed against his waist and the shock of it stopped him.

He turned and surveyed the beach.

Fight. Jon too was fighting, the battle in his head deafening.

Recite. Fill your head with something else. That's what Anne had said. Don't let him take hold. Recite ...

Nion must have his revenge.

Marcus is vanquished.

Nion turned his hungry, angry eyes to look for the Roman who had caused his death ...

Fight. Fight the anger in his head.

Recite.

Byron. She didn't know it, but he had learned Byron for her sake. *Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground ...' Grope for the memory. Fill the mind. *All tragedies are finish'd by a death.' Was that Byron too ...? It didn't matter.

Jon stumbled away from the sea, his hands clawing at his temples. Where was she? Where was Claudia? His love. He shook his head. Kate. Where was Kate a? There was no one there. They had gone. Nion was gaining strength. Marcus? Where was Marcus? Nion had to be rid of Marcus for ever.

Recite. It's the only way. Blank the druid out. Don't let him in. He's not going to win.

Sobbing, he fell on his knees in the wet sand.

*She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

She walks in beauty, like the night ...'

He repeated the words again and again until he had no strength left and his voice faded in his throat.

Marcus could see them clearly now, through the eyes of the man, Greg. They were there, near him, reaching out to one another.

Nion and Claudia.

Jon and Kate.

Greg groaned as the icy water slapped around his thighs. His eyes weren't working properly. Everything was blurred.

Jon and Kate.

Nion and Claudia.

Slowly he was beginning to understand. Marcus fed on hate and jealousy. Their strength, their love, those were the weapons he needed. Clenching his fists he took a step towards the sand. Then another.

Fight.

Fight the alien inside his head.

Fight him with love. Love that transcends time and s.p.a.ce.