Ruth looked dazed, like she was going to faint. Church slipped an arm around her shoulder for support. "Why are you treating her this way? She's a victim, not a-"
"She allowed it to happen."
"Don't be ridiculous-!" Church caught himself, tried a different tack. "Look, you've got him here, your arch-enemy. If you can get the essence… the seed… out of her-"
"We will have nothing to do with the corruption. Even to be in the same presence fills us with…" He made a gesture as if there was a foul smell under his nose.
"But it makes no sense! If Balor is reborn he's not going to leave the Tuatha De Danann alone for long. He'll wipe you out like he's going to wipe out everything-"
The words dried in Church's throat when he saw Dian Cecht's face flare with rage, become insubstantial, shift through a range of alien visages. He suddenly acted as if Church were no longer in the room. "We will deal with the Heart of Shadows and the Night Walkers if they become a problem, True Thomas-"
"Ifl" Church raged.
Tom moved quickly to push him and Ruth towards the door. "Quiet, you idiot!" he hissed. "You're close to having your blood boiled in your veins!"
"Leave now, True Thomas, and do not bring this foul thing to this place again." Dian Cecht turned sharply and led the others from the precinct.
The silence that lay in their wake was all-encompassing. Ruth dropped her head heavily on to Church's shoulder. "God…"
"Are you going to tell us your blinding revelation or what?" Laura tried to keep apace with Veitch as he marched back towards The Green Man. His face was flushed with anger and there was determination in every fibre of his being.
"I'll do more than tell you."
Laura glanced back at Shavi, who shook his head dumbfoundedly.
Veitch burst into the pub like he was looking for a fight. Most of the action group had already gathered there, hunkering in serious conversation at the bar. They looked up in shock as Veitch marched up. He muttered something to one of the group which Laura and Shavi couldn't hear and then he spun round and was heading out of the door again. Laura thought about catching his arm to slow him until she glimpsed his expression. She dropped back several feet and let Shavi move ahead to keep up with the Londoner.
Night had almost fallen by the time they had reached the area of large, old houses at the top of the High Street. Only a thin band of pale blue and gold lay on the horizon and that was disappearing fast. Veitch ranged back and forth along one of the streets, his fists bunching then opening, his breathing ragged. Eventually he found the house he was looking for. One boot burst the wooden gate from its hinges and then he was racing up the path.
The door was locked. He hammered on it so loudly the glass in the front windows rattled. "Open up!"
A hollow voice echoed somewhere inside.
"I said open up or I'll kick the fucking thing down and then you'll have nothing to protect you!" he raged.
Footsteps approached quickly and they heard the sounds of bolts being drawn. The door had opened only a crack when Veitch kicked it sharply, smashing it into the face of whoever was behind it. There was a groan as someone crashed back against the wall of the hall. Veitch pushed his way in with Laura and Shavi close behind. They didn't recognise the man who was desperately trying to staunch the blood pumping from his nose; it had streamed down over his mouth so that he resembled a vampire from some cheap horror movie. He was in his fifties, balding and overweight, with large, unsightly jowls.
But instead of berating him, Veitch marched past, glancing into the first room he came to before moving on to the next. He stopped at a large drawing room at the rear of the house. French windows looked out over a garden so big they couldn't see the bottom in the dark. The room was decorated with an abundance of antiques on a deep carpet; large, gilt-framed paintings hung on the walls and a log fire crackled in the grate, despite the warmth of the day. A piano stood in one corner.
Several people were gathered in the room, their apprehensive, pale faces turned towards Veitch, Shavi and Laura. There were four women, one in her forties with blonde hair so lacquered it resembled a helmet, the others in their sixties or older, but still well turned-out. The rest were men of different ages and shapes, but they had one thing in common which only Veitch could see: the vague air that the world belonged to them.
"I say, what do you think you're doing?" Sir Richard stepped forward from the back of the group, a glass of brandy nestled in his palm. His cheeks were slightly flushed; Laura couldn't tell if it was from the fire, the brandy or the interruption.
Veitch stepped forward and smashed the glass from his grip with the back of his hand. It shattered on the floor.
"Good Lord, are you mad?"
"I fucking hate toffs and rich bastards," Veitch spat. There was a note in his voice which made Laura's blood run cold.
Shavi stepped forward. "Ryan, are you sure-"
He whirled. "Yes, I am fucking sure! You two wouldn't even have thought of this because you've got a good outlook on life. You were brought up right in a modern world where everybody treats each other at face value, and that's how it should be. But there are still people out there, even in this fucking day and age, who think they're better than others, because they were born that way or because they earned a bundle of fucking cash." He turned back to Sir Richard. "Am I right?"
Sir Richard flustered indignantly. "If you're implying that I-"
"Shut the fuck up."
Laura watched the scene with a terrible fascination. The sense of irrational, uncontrollable threat that Veitch was radiating scared even her, so God knows how frightened the great and good of the village felt. She looked round and saw the dismay and worry marked in their faces; they looked as if Veitch was about to shoot them, then rob them; and with her hand on her heart, Laura couldn't say that he wouldn't.
Veitch turned to Shavi, but he was obviously talking to the whole room. "Let me tell you what happened. When the rich old lady was the first to catch it, this lot were horrified. They thought they were fucking untouchable here in their little sanctuary. But that was a big alarm: anybody could get it now the whole world had been turned on its head, and they had no special fucking privileges to protect them. And then when the drunk got it the little lightbulbs started popping over their heads. He was a fucking undesirable, a piss-head and a burden on fucking society. Maybe it wasn't even so bad that he got it. The village would look a lot prettier without his piles of puke in the gutter. And then they thought, it didn't have to be them who ended up as dead meat. There were a few more that the village could do without. Lazy layabouts without a job for a start." He put on a mock high-class voice, but it was still laced with venom. "Wasn't there a little pocket of them down in that part of the village we never went to, where those cheap, dirty little houses were?"
"Now hang on a minute! Those were our neighbours!" a tall, thin man in a dark suit said sharply. "We always got on well with them."
"You tolerated them because you were on top," Veitch snapped. "But when your backs were against the wall, you didn't have far to look for sacrifices. You knew those fucking creatures left you alone for a bit after they'd eaten. But you knew they couldn't get into a house without the door open. So what did you do? One or two of you fucking cowards went down after dark and jimmied a door open."
Laura suddenly realised why Veitch had been examining the door frames; he'd been looking for splinters where the locks had been forced. And she guessed from his past experience he had a perfectly good idea what a jimmied door looked like.