Free The Ghost Roads (Ring of Five) by Eoin McNamee Page B

We have no armies to oppose the might of the Cherbs. We have only our wits.”
    “We have to know their deployments!” Brunholm said. “We are deaf and blind. There could be whole divisions on standby waiting to invade. The Ring has stoppedall shipping traffic between Westwald and Tarnstone. Our best agent, Starling, has been unmasked. Wilsons must get someone into Westwald.”
    “You mean me and Vandra?” Toxique said.
    “Yes, of course,” Brunholm snapped. “There isn’t anyone else.”
    “Well, that’s a vote of confidence if ever I heard one,” Vandra said drily. Her thoughts were with Danny. What would he do now? What would he say? She knew that this mission in Westwald was fraught with danger, but it was especially dangerous for her and Toxique. Vandra did not have the skills the others had, nor did she have the capacity to lie so essential to a spy. And Toxique … as a spy he was a positive liability.
    She made up her mind. She would go alone. The second she made her decision, a raven who had been sitting unseen in the rafters began a raucous cawing.
    “What the devil …?” Brunholm said. But Vandra studied the raven closely. It hopped down to the top of a bookcase and its black eyes met hers.
    What should I do? she thought. Should I take Toxique? In reply the raven flew back to the rafters. A second later a white glob dropped from above and landed right on top of Toxique’s head.
    “Ugh!” Toxique took out a handkerchief and wiped his head as Brunholm looked on with malicious amusement.
    “We’ll go,” Vandra said. For better or worse, the raven had indicated that Toxique should go with her.
    “Splendid,” Devoy said. “There’s no time to waste.”

    D anny skirted the back gardens of the little village. He was weak, his limbs shaking. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but he knew he had to get away from the ruins of Kilrootford. The destructive power that had poured through him had been appalling. He had seen the soldiers guarding Pearl run away, but he had no way of knowing if there had been anyone else in the buildings before the terrible fury of the Fifth had blown through the place like a burning wind, leaving nothing standing—except, of course, the source of the destruction: Danny himself.
    When he came to and saw the flattened base and the felled trees, he felt sick. It looked like the old pictures of Hiroshima or Nagasaki after the atom bomb had been dropped on them. He’d started to run, half blinded by smoke from the smoldering wreckage, his breath coming in great racking shudders.
    He had no idea how long or how far he had run before he tripped on a stone and fell face-first into an icy stream. He lay there, barely gathering the strength to turn his head away from the water. He could hear helicopters overhead, circling, and he knew they were searching for him. He staggered to his feet. He needed to sleep, but first he had to find cover.
    Keeping under the trees so the helicopters wouldn’t see him, Danny made for distant lights. He found himself passing houses in the suburbs. There was a warm teatime glow to the lit windows, and he imagined people his ownage inside, watching TV, doing homework, playing games on the computer. It made him feel unutterably lonely, and he found himself creeping closer and closer to the houses, until in the end he was under a living room window. He lifted his head carefully. The family—mother, father, two girls and a boy—was gathered around the television.
    Danny’s stomach lurched. The images on the screen were of Kilrootford. A somber-looking anchorman came on. At first Danny couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but then the mother turned the volume up. In a few seconds, Danny wished she hadn’t, for he found himself looking at his own face on the screen.
    “… police are seeking terrorism suspect Danny Caulfield. Caulfield is wanted for questioning regarding the outrage. The public are warned not to approach him. He is