Free Darkhenge by Catherine Fisher Page B

gave Rob a glance and turned back to the fence.
    â€œKnowledge of beasts,” Rosa whispered. “See?”
    â€œLots of people can do that.” But it amazed him, the animal’s complete trust. Max was fierce with anyone; even with Jimmy around, Rob had never gone very near him.
    The gate opened; Vetch slid in, the others behind him like shadows. Once inside, Rosa clicked on a flashlight.
    Droplets of spray hissed through the light like a golden curtain.
    Rob watched the two of them as they looked down at the henge. Rosa stared at the ring of timbers, dark and ominous, rising out of the ridged soil.
    She let out a breath of awe. “It’s amazing. What is it?”
    â€œClare says an enclosure.” Rob was watching Vetch. “A ritual site.”
    The poet had not moved. He was very still, the light catching his eyes, the glittering spray pattering around him. He stood with his arms around himself, a dark figure against the darkness, and there was a tension about him that made them both fall silent. Now, without speaking, he made his way around the timber ring to the entrance, the narrow gap that Marcus had spent all day troweling. Climbing through, he went to the center of the henge, knelt and, to their astonishment, turned his head and crouched so low that his ear was pressed to the ground. His hands spread on the surface, feeling it gently, as if it was softest fleece. “Have they found anything here?”
    â€œNot as far as I know.”
    â€œThey will.” He raised his head. “I hear the voices of the trees, calling me back. The Trees of the Summer Country, of the Region of the Summer Stars. I hear the birch and the oak, the elm. The forests of the Unworld.” He gazed down, propped on his hands, as if the peaty soil was the opening of a well, a transparent glass floor he could stare through. For a moment he seemed lost in that vision. Then, a little stiffly, he climbed to his feet, brushing soil from his fingers. “The way down will be here.”
    â€œDown?”
    Vetch turned his head. In the darkness, rain glinted, caught in the hooded glow of the flashlight. Vast shadows flashed and slid over the dark timbers. Concerned, they saw he looked worn and tired. He caught hold of the henge with one hand to support himself, and the fine mist of the sprays that kept it wet fell on him in the torchlight like a million minute stars.
    â€œI told you,” he breathed. “The way to Chloe.”
    Suddenly Rob’s patience snapped. Not caring if anyone heard, he yelled, “I should never have brought you here! Get out!”
    Rosa said, “Rob—”
    â€œLook at him! Using me! Getting at me through Chloe. It’s sick— I’m sick for sticking around with you.” He was shaking; he clenched his hands.
    Vetch straightened and came up to him. “We can help Chloe.”
    â€œYou can’t. No one can.”
    â€œYou and I can. There is a way to find her.”
    â€œShut up. Shut up! ” He turned, groping for the gate, blind.
    Vetch moved gently around, into his way. “You want her to die, is that it?”
    Rob’s head whipped up. “What!”
    â€œYou want her to die. That would end it tidily. It would be over.”
    â€œYou pathetic—”
    â€œYour parents would mourn, but even for them it would be a secret relief. They would be free to remember Chloe as she was. After a while, all their attention, all their love, would come back to you. It would be just you, and them.”
    Rob’s fist swung in a blow of fury, but before it slammed home Vetch had gripped his wrist. His grasp was surprisingly strong. He said, “It’s hard to hear it said aloud. But there is a place inside you that feels these things.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s there, Rob. Dark as coal, a ring around your heart, like this henge. But maybe inside that, deeper and darker, is something else, and it would emerge if you