Never better, the man says. I see you’ve brought some friends along? He tips his head at Carl and Barry.
They’re just two young lads have been helping us out, Mark says. They wanted to come along.
Why not, why not, the Druid nods along. The more the merrier. Do come warm yourselves. He waves his hand and they step towards the fire. And then there is a flash, a flash of air, not the kind you can see. Now the Druid’s sword is stretched out with the point pressed into Deano’s throat.
For a moment nobody moves, like the whole world is balanced on the tip of the sword. Then the cross-eyed man leans in and whips the sports bag out of Deano’s hand.
We’ll take care of this for now, the Druid says. The cross-eyed man pulls the shotgun out of the bag, splits it open over his knee and rattles out the shells. The Druid lowers the sword. Deano sags like he’s deflating. Now friends, the Druid says. Business before pleasure. Let us adjourn to my office.
He turns and walks up the hill. They follow after him with the cross-eyed man behind. No one has said a word since the Druid swung his sword. Fear crackles in the clouds, in the long grass, the lights of the city rise up around like they have come to watch something happen. And now a shape appears at the top of the hill, a rocky black shape that stares out like a skull.
Which of you scholars can tell me what this is? the Druid says cheerfully.
None of them says anything and then Barry says in a voice like he’s hypnotized, A dolmen.
Very good. The Druid is pleased. One of the oldest forms of burial chamber. Also known as a Portal Tomb, as it is a doorway to the land of death. Note the distinctive tripartite structure, for the three aspects of the Goddess. He looks from one face to the next. In ancient times it is here that offerings were left for the unseen ones, he says.
Nothing happens for a moment. Then Mark jerks to life. He takes the package from under his belt and holds it out to the Druid. But the cross-eyed man grabs it instead. He rips open the paper and counts the money, muttering. The Druid leans on his sword and watches him with a little smile, like someone watching children playing. When he is finished the cross-eyed man lifts his head. He nods to the Druid. The Druid walks up to the dolmen and stretches his arm into the dark between the ground-rocks and the slab lying across them. His hand comes out holding a bag. He throws it to Mark. Mark opens it. Inside are smaller bags of white powder, other bags of pills, a brick of hash in clingfilm, it’s just like on TV. All to your satisfaction? the Druid says.
Yeah, brilliant, Mark says. Thanks very much. He looks at Knoxer, at Ste. Ste jerks his head in the direction of the car. Well, Mark says.
The Druid has his head tilted back, looking up at the sky. But you’re not leaving already? he says.
Let’s go let’s go let’s go, Carl is thinking, they are all thinking, Mark too but he doesn’t know what to do.
Come, the Druid says. It is so rare that we see our friends. Let us sit by the fire.
At the bottom of the hill the bonfire has burned low. The cross-eyed man picks up a jerry-can and pours petrol on it. Flames jump out, the Druid laughs. Sit, sit, he says, laughing. They sit in a ring around it like children. Ste is trying to make Mark look at him but he won’t. The Druid takes a pipe from his cloak and lights it and passes it around. In the firelight you can see he is not that old, he is less old than Carl’s dad.
Once this whole country was a stronghold of the Goddess, he says. Magical sites lie all around here. The modern jackals do not see it, of course, they’d concrete over this very hill if you gave them half a chance. But to anyone with ears… He pulls his shoulders in. The sword lies on the ground beside him, pointing into the fire like a gold tongue drinking. You can hear them, he hisses. The dead.
Carl gets the pipe. The smoke tastes weird, maybe it’s because they’re out here in the fields and trees. He is trying not to hear the dead, he is trying not to think of the black space between the rocks of the dolmen where the Druid put his hand.
Hence my little enterprise, the Druid says. I was chosen by the Goddess to protect this hill from the defilers.
So how old would you say it is then? Mark says, because the Druid is staring at him. Like, the dolmen?
The Druid goes quiet like he’s thinking back to when he built it. Perhaps… three thousand years?
Beside Carl, Deano bursts into giggles. He tries to stop but they just get worse. He laughs and laughs, high hyena yelps, till he’s on his side. Then when he can speak he says, Sorry… just reminded me of this cunt… wantin to ride a fuckin skeleton… He explodes into giggles again.
The Druid stares at Deano without smiling. It’s just a game we were playing on the way up here, Mark explains. If you could pick one woman, you know, to be with. Ste picked Helen of Troy.
Helen of fuckin Troy… gasps Deano. The dozy prick.
Ste looks even more pissed off, like he’s just about keeping himself from saying something.
The Druid just stares. Helen of Troy, he says.
Barry hands Carl the pipe again. His eyes are like the black skies of a lost place. But above his head the stars are like millions of eyes. Carl pretends he doesn’t feel them watching, he looks into the fire instead. Q. But in the fire there are hands reaching up trying to get out!!!! A. Don’t look in the fire either!!!! He sucks on the pipe, trying to build up the wall of fog that hides him from the dead! But this time the smoke instead of hiding him is leading him deeper in!
Helen who was Helle, the Druid says, was none other than Persephone, the Goddess of Death and Resurrection. It is she this whole land belonged to, it is her Door atop this hill.
Ste lets out a sigh, looks at his watch.
In Erin of old she was Brigit, the exalted one, the fiery arrow. In Wales she was the Ninefold Muse Ceridwen. She is Ashtaroth, Venus, Hecate, and a thousand others. She is the Goddess who underlies all things, the supreme object of desire whom no man may resist and no man may possess without being destroyed, who ruled us all before her throne was stolen from her.
And suddenly Carl knows why Dead Boy brought him here. He is going to take Carl back with him, through the Door! He wants to scream, he wants to get up and run. But there is a spell on him making him weigh a million tons. It’s the hill, already pulling him into it, it’s the hands in the fire holding him down. Soon he will hear the Door open, then the shadows will come!
Stolen by the Church, the Druid says, by little priests in cells, scribbling out their Bibles, loving only gold and power! Thieves and paedophiles, who presided over a perversion! But she will be avenged! She will burn them all in her holy fire!
Ste jumps to his feet. I’m freezin me hole off listenin to this shite! he shouts. See youse in the car! He turns to go back down the hill – but now the little man gets up too, he puts his hand in his jacket –
Then Barry slumps forward. After a moment, gently but swiftly, the tips of his hair catch on the bonfire and light into little flames, like birthday candles. He lets out a loud snore. Everybody starts laughing, even Ste, even the little cross-eyed man.
‘I think someone’s had his fill,’ the Druid says.
‘Can’t say I fuckin blame him,’ Deano says. ‘This weed is fuckin lethal.’
‘It’s not weed, lad.’ The Druid laughs a big chesty laugh. ‘It’s heroin.’ He laughs some more, and they all do too, laughing and laughing, everyone is laughing!
But Carl feels so, so sad.
And then the screaming starts.
‘I’m just wondering if it’s going to be entirely safe…’ Jeekers in the wings.
‘I don’t imagine anyone will get hurt,’ Ruprecht says. ‘Though there may be some structural damage.’