Caitlin didn't fall for it. She wondered what else lay behind Mahalia's diamond-hard exterior that the teenager wasn't revealing. They made their way through picturesque villages that belied the advent of the Fall. In many of them, life appeared to go on as normaclass="underline" wisps of smoke floated up from the chimneys of stone houses and washing fluttered on lines in back gardens. Villagers out on their errands would stop and stare in amazement as the car roared by, wondering what the apparition signified. Other lanes were blocked by horse-drawn carts transporting produce from one village to the next, the drivers yanking the reins tight to prevent their horses from shying at the unfamiliar beast.
Eventually, reaching a minor road along a windswept ridge on the edge of the Cotswolds, Crowther pulled up against a mass of vegetation that had once been the verge.
'We're here?' Caitlin said, looking for some sign of a specific destination. All she could see were untended fields turned wild, and burgeoning hedgerows and copses.
Crowther grunted something incoherent in response and set out along the road without waiting for the others, his staff clattering an insistent rhythm. Mahalia and Carlton crawled out from behind the seats, stretching aching muscles. It was still and peaceful, with insects flitting over the long grass and birds singing in every tree.
As Caitlin, Mahalia and Carlton hurried to catch up with the professor, the chattering at the back of Caitlin's head grew louder as her inner selves became feverishly excited.
Mahalia could feel something, too, for the contempt had left her face to be replaced by an out-of-place uncertainty. 'Where are we going?' she asked. Carlton gave her hand a supportive squeeze; of all of them, he appeared the most at ease.
Crowther pointed to a weather-worn rock rising up in a field to their left. Rusty iron railings imprisoned it. 'Well, there's part of it,' he said gruffly. He turned swiftly through a gate concealed by overgrown vegetation and led them past a small hut with yellowing pamphlets in a dirty display case. And then they were there.
Surrounded by trees and hedges on three sides was a small stone circle forty strides across. Only a few of the pockmarked, eroded limestone pillars still stood tall. The majority were broken stumps. On the fourth side, two gateway stones opened out on to sunlit fields rolling down into a valley.
'The Rollrights,' Crowther intoned. 'A Neolithic stone circle.'
'This is where we get to that other world?' Caitlin asked.
'Where we'll make the attempt to cross over.' Crowther led the way cautiously, his darting eyes searching amongst the trees.
They paused on the edge of the circle, which Crowther defined with a wave of his hand. 'These are known as The King's Men.' He turned and pointed in the direction of the stone now hidden behind the hedge across the road. 'The King Stone.' And then away across the fields to the east, where they could just make out four upright stones and one fallen. 'The remains of a chambered long barrow, now known as the Whispering Knights. Legend says they are a king and his knights turned to stone by a witch. Some of the locals say the stones come alive at midnight, performing strange ritual dances… they even go down to Little Rollright Spinney over there to get a drink. Stories like that are one of the hidden sources of information I spoke of earlier. The suggestion of transformation and magic tells me the ancients believed this place had a special power — that's what we need to tap into, the reason why we're here.'
Caitlin expected Mahalia to make some sneering comment, but the girl remained on edge and watchful.
'I'm not sure I like it here,' Caitlin said.
'You're responding to the atmosphere. This is a special place,' Crowther replied.
'What do you mean?'
'It has a unique ambience, a confluence of subtle alterations to the quality of the light, the scents of the vegetation, the temperature… and on an unseen level, patterns of background radiation, ultrasound, anomalous radio signals. What you're feeling is the shock of a new experience. It's quite… destabilising. You'll get used to it.'
Mahalia didn't look convinced. She put her arm around Carlton again and led him away to one side where she whispered to him insistently, flashing occasional urgent glances at Caitlin.
Crowther moved to the tallest of the nearby stones and held out one hand, as if to touch it. But then he hesitated, as if he were about to plunge his hand into water that could be freezing cold or boiling hot. He steeled himself, then clamped his palm on the surface before smiling. 'Power, you see. Infused in every molecule.'
'What kind of power?' Caitlin asked.
'Ah, that's the question. Something science never quite got to grips with. This place is like a battery… no, like a node on some national energy grid.' He removed his hat and leaned forward until his forehead was gently touching the cool rock. 'There was a research group called the Dragon Project working here in the late seventies, early eighties, looking into the notion of some kind of telluric energy — earth energy. Airy-fairy, you might say.' He laughed. 'New Age nonsense. But then a Geiger counter picked up sudden surges of radiation, something that only seemed to happen at megalithic sites. And then they found pulses of ultrasound, strange radio signals, short bursts, like a homing beacon. They never did get to the bottom of it.'
Caitlin realised that Crowther was right: she was starting to feel better, attuning herself to the subtle energies of the place. The chattering voices had quietened, and an abiding peace rose in her heart. She breathed deeply, tasting the trees and grass and rock. But there was still memory, tugging her back. 'How long have we got?' she said.
Crowther looked at the sky, an ages-old shaman divining the wind and clouds. 'Not as much time as I'd like.'
'You don't think the Whisperers will leave us alone?'
'No. Do you?' He eyed her cautiously before deciding not to let it spoil his mood. 'It's going to be a lovely day. Make the most of it.' The morning passed slowly. They lit a fire on rough ground beyond the hut and cooked up a meal of eggs and herbs, stolen by Mahalia from a farm they had passed during the night. Caitlin's plea that they in some way pay for the produce had been cut short by the angry farmer and his sons chasing them furiously away.
The day was warmer than they could have expected for that time of year. Caitlin and Mahalia took turns keeping watch while Crowther busied himself with things he insisted were necessary for whatever ritualistic endeavour he had planned for sunset, though Caitlin was convinced he was simply trying to avoid doing any real work.
It was during her third watch in the early hours of the afternoon that Caitlin became entranced by sparkling lights high up in the trees. Just the pleasing play of sunlight in the branches, she thought, until she realised that the glimmering moved of its own accord. She watched the glitter trails with distracted curiosity, lost in the dreamy peace that had crept over her since she had become accustomed to the Rollrights' peculiar atmosphere. Even the sickening undertow of grief in the pit of her stomach had abated, and though she still thought of Liam and Grant every few moments, it was with the warm remembrance of happier times, not the sense of loss that physically hurt. Perhaps the lights were another manifestation of whatever caused the odd sound and radiation effects Crowther had mentioned earlier, she speculated.
But after five minutes, she realised with a growing sense of amazement that she could make out tiny forms at the heart of the lights — little people, with wings. The discovery filled her with a pure, innocent wonder that she had not experienced since she was a child. She watched them for a few more minutes until one appeared to notice her and swooped down. The figure hovered on gossamer wings, barely six inches high, its androgynous features incredibly beautiful. The skin itself exuded the golden light.