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?Well, the farmer s co-operating, said Sage. ?He admits he s allowed the wood
to be used as a venue for a couple of years. He claims he had no choice, which is
probably true, but he s paid handsomely, anonymous packets of notes. He stays
away from there, especially around the big dates, but he knew about the pit. He
thought it was for the horse sacrifice. He swears he had no idea about the rest.
?He gets a warning. The cars arrive late, said Ax. ?They park in a layby, they
leave before dawn. That s all we ve got out of him so far, except he confirms the
opinion of our experts A few of the barmies cringed at this, like pack members
who have been nipped and cuffed by father wolf. ?He expects them back on
Lammas Eve, that is tomorrow night.
?They ll be doing a triad, offered big Brock, very subdued. ?They do three
sacrifices over a feast like Lammas, an keep the bodies displayed if they can get
away with it, ter hallow the ground. But I m talking animals, horses and dogs.
Cats, if they are hard up. I ve never heard of . . . anything the fuck like that.
?I wish to tell you, Fiorinda, muttered Fergal Kearney, ?that this is not the
ancient ways, this is foul invention. The only meaning it has is for hurrying on
the dark, which some bastard fellers think a fine plan
?Yeah, Ax cut him off. ?Right. He looked at the sky, reached in his pocket for
cigarettes and took one out; but didn t light it. Last sawmhe d given up all drugs for the entire month. He
didn t see himself managing that this year, but he could
hang on for half an hour. ?We re not talking to the local coppers, for obvious
reasons, but we ve arranged for reinforcements. We ve called in the West Mid
armed response squad, and sent for more barmies.
?The farmer and his family are under close guard, said Sage, ?in case they
were thinking of giving anyone a call. We can t be sure we haven t been spotted
and frightened them off, but if they come back, we ll be ready.
?Like a night club raid, said Fiorinda. ?Switch on the big lights, close down the
exits and move in. Hey, is human sacrifice the new cocaine?
Her levity did not go down well. Someone whispered, ?It wasn t dogs.
Another voice added, in a hollow tone, ?We were scared before we got near.
?An that s not like us, Fiorinda.
?There was an aura.
?Fuckin Pagans. They use dark, inhuman forces.
Angry glances shot around: there were Pagans in the band. You can believe in
the old religion without being a sadistic murderous neo-feudalist.
?Oh come off it, said Fiorinda, briskly. ?Pagans, Anabaptists, what s the
difference where they go to church? What we have here are some sad bastards
whose idea of fun is to watch human beings get ripped apart. There s nothing
unheard of or supernatural in that, unfortunately.
The barmies were not yet convinced. ?I don t believe in magic, announced Zip
Crimson, the sharp-dressing hippy kid who was one of the babies of this gang. ?It s fascist mediaeval
screw the workers shite, an I hate the stuff. But that s not
to say it doesn t happen.
?You could be right. AllI m saying is: not this time. I ve seen the bodies. I
know it looks bizarre. I don t know what the hell is going on, any more than you
do. But trust me, there ll be a natural explanation. It wasn t werewolves.
?Thank you, Fiorinda, said Ax. ?I m glad we can dismiss that option. He put
the cigarette back into the pack, saved by the realisation that he was starving.
?Now, can we eat? The sun is finally over the yard arm.
The men relaxed, steadied and possibly shamed by Fiorinda s calm. A
vegetable stew, which had been cooking in an ATP haybox stove, was served
(the infidel had all waited to eat with Ax). Everyone ate with mechanical fervour,
like good soldiers: Fiorinda did the same, because it would please the lads. They
drank water which the barmies carried with them. None of them would touch
agribusiness ground-water ; apart from the Irishman, who had his medicinal
ration of red wine. Fiorinda s saltbox was passed around, and even Fergal, who
had hardly tasted his stew, made sure he got hold of it. As he dipped his fingers
he looked across the shadows, and their eyes met. He put the salt on his tongue,
nodded fractionally, and then quickly looked away.
It was late before the Triumvirate escaped to the officers bender, set deeper
into the trees. Sage and Ax shucked their rifles. Sage took off the mask and lit an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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?Well, the farmer s co-operating, said Sage. ?He admits he s allowed the wood
to be used as a venue for a couple of years. He claims he had no choice, which is
probably true, but he s paid handsomely, anonymous packets of notes. He stays
away from there, especially around the big dates, but he knew about the pit. He
thought it was for the horse sacrifice. He swears he had no idea about the rest.
?He gets a warning. The cars arrive late, said Ax. ?They park in a layby, they
leave before dawn. That s all we ve got out of him so far, except he confirms the
opinion of our experts A few of the barmies cringed at this, like pack members
who have been nipped and cuffed by father wolf. ?He expects them back on
Lammas Eve, that is tomorrow night.
?They ll be doing a triad, offered big Brock, very subdued. ?They do three
sacrifices over a feast like Lammas, an keep the bodies displayed if they can get
away with it, ter hallow the ground. But I m talking animals, horses and dogs.
Cats, if they are hard up. I ve never heard of . . . anything the fuck like that.
?I wish to tell you, Fiorinda, muttered Fergal Kearney, ?that this is not the
ancient ways, this is foul invention. The only meaning it has is for hurrying on
the dark, which some bastard fellers think a fine plan
?Yeah, Ax cut him off. ?Right. He looked at the sky, reached in his pocket for
cigarettes and took one out; but didn t light it. Last sawmhe d given up all drugs for the entire month. He
didn t see himself managing that this year, but he could
hang on for half an hour. ?We re not talking to the local coppers, for obvious
reasons, but we ve arranged for reinforcements. We ve called in the West Mid
armed response squad, and sent for more barmies.
?The farmer and his family are under close guard, said Sage, ?in case they
were thinking of giving anyone a call. We can t be sure we haven t been spotted
and frightened them off, but if they come back, we ll be ready.
?Like a night club raid, said Fiorinda. ?Switch on the big lights, close down the
exits and move in. Hey, is human sacrifice the new cocaine?
Her levity did not go down well. Someone whispered, ?It wasn t dogs.
Another voice added, in a hollow tone, ?We were scared before we got near.
?An that s not like us, Fiorinda.
?There was an aura.
?Fuckin Pagans. They use dark, inhuman forces.
Angry glances shot around: there were Pagans in the band. You can believe in
the old religion without being a sadistic murderous neo-feudalist.
?Oh come off it, said Fiorinda, briskly. ?Pagans, Anabaptists, what s the
difference where they go to church? What we have here are some sad bastards
whose idea of fun is to watch human beings get ripped apart. There s nothing
unheard of or supernatural in that, unfortunately.
The barmies were not yet convinced. ?I don t believe in magic, announced Zip
Crimson, the sharp-dressing hippy kid who was one of the babies of this gang. ?It s fascist mediaeval
screw the workers shite, an I hate the stuff. But that s not
to say it doesn t happen.
?You could be right. AllI m saying is: not this time. I ve seen the bodies. I
know it looks bizarre. I don t know what the hell is going on, any more than you
do. But trust me, there ll be a natural explanation. It wasn t werewolves.
?Thank you, Fiorinda, said Ax. ?I m glad we can dismiss that option. He put
the cigarette back into the pack, saved by the realisation that he was starving.
?Now, can we eat? The sun is finally over the yard arm.
The men relaxed, steadied and possibly shamed by Fiorinda s calm. A
vegetable stew, which had been cooking in an ATP haybox stove, was served
(the infidel had all waited to eat with Ax). Everyone ate with mechanical fervour,
like good soldiers: Fiorinda did the same, because it would please the lads. They
drank water which the barmies carried with them. None of them would touch
agribusiness ground-water ; apart from the Irishman, who had his medicinal
ration of red wine. Fiorinda s saltbox was passed around, and even Fergal, who
had hardly tasted his stew, made sure he got hold of it. As he dipped his fingers
he looked across the shadows, and their eyes met. He put the salt on his tongue,
nodded fractionally, and then quickly looked away.
It was late before the Triumvirate escaped to the officers bender, set deeper
into the trees. Sage and Ax shucked their rifles. Sage took off the mask and lit an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]