Hart knelt by the heel stone. She had felt the power of the place as soon as she entered the avenue. Even at a distance, astral perception had been difficult; this close to the henge, the residual energies produced a kind of glare, effectively cutting off that avenue of scouting.
Cautiously, she rose and moved ahead. At the slaughter stone, she cut across the path and slipped down into the ditch. She worked her way past the north barrow before cutting in toward the megaliths of the inner rings.
She halted almost at once.
An elf woman was briefly visible in the open space of the outer ring. She was gone almost before Hart registered her presence, but the sighting was enough to check Hart’s approach. There were others present at the henge. Hart waited, but no one else appeared for a quarter hour.
She studied the shadows the woman had disappeared into. Scrutiny of the megalith’s shadow found the woman and revealed another elf, a dark-haired man. Both of the skulkers wore black suits similar to Hart’s. She flicked the control on her goggles, switching from unaided to IR reception, and found their garments masked their body heat. The thermal dispersion factor seemed to be even more efficient than her suit. Their equipment was top notch, and their lack of nervous movement marked them as pros. As yet, they seemed unaware of her presence. Were they scouts?
Movement in the darkness caught her eye. A third elf approached. The one wore black synthleathers, and his pale hair was cut in a sprawl shag that rippled as he moved. He had a flat case strapped to his back, which she recognized as a cyberdeck carrying case. There was no use for decking equipment here; the leather elf was out of his element tonight.
A fourth person followed him, not an elf but a human. He moved with a slightly awkward run that nevertheless covered the open ground quickly. The fringes of his jacket swayed with his movement, blurring his outline.
Alert and quiet, the four waited at the side of the sarsen stone for several minutes. Apparently satisfied they had tripped no alarms, they held a hushed conference before spreading out to take up ambush positions among the stones of the henge.
Interesting. Were they also after the Hidden Circle?
She worked her way closer in. With others already present, she was denied the perch she’d originally wanted; climbing to the capstone would attract their attention. Without knowing who they were and what they wanted here, she couldn’t afford to be spotted. After all, she had no proof they weren’t an advance party for the Circle, come to secure the site.
It took nearly an hour to reach her alternate position, almost due east from the altar stone. The view of the interior of the circle was nearly as good, but more than half of the approaches, including the avenue, were screened by the megaliths.
Her research had not told her what time might be appropriate for the ceremony, only that it must take place before dawn. Hart settled in to wait.
She wasn’t sure when she became aware of it, but at some point she realized the energy of the henge was shifting. Somewhere, someone was creating a powerful magic that touched the magical site. She slipped into astral consciousness and tried to assess the nature of the energy. It didn’t feel like a normal ritual, and she could assense no spotter making a ritual link to the henge. The astral glare of the henge was shifting, breaking up. She could discern spirit presences amid the energy sweeping among the stones, like fish on a reef. The spirit forms were agitated. Moving faster, they began to stream out of the henge. Others drifted in, only to follow the path taken by earlier spirits. She shifted her perspective, floating high above the stone circle, and saw the spirits moving along distinct paths. The ley lines were active.
“Damn!”
The oath focused her attention back to the mundane plane.
The human had come out of hiding and was standing in the center of the circle. His hands were on the altar stone and his face turned to the sky. “They’re not here!” he shouted. “Those druid bastards are doing their black magic somewhere else.”
She recognized the voice, though it had been months since she’d heard it. Samuel Verner. She’d heard he’d taken the street name Twist since their last encounter. She hadn’t recognized him when she had first seen him, but that was easily explained by the darkness and distance. From his curse, it was clear he was not part of the druids’ plan. Verner was a runner, not a mover; his presence meant an unknown faction was involved.
The other skulkers left their places to join their partner in the center of the ring. The decker elf would be Sam’s buddy, Dodger. The other two she didn’t know, but as soon as she saw them plainly, she recognized them. They were the pair who had been leaving the Seelie Court as she had been entering. Was Lady Deigh running parallel teams, or were they the agents of some other power? Had the Lord Protector learned of his renegades? Whoever these runners were, they hunted the Hidden Circle as she did.
Already she had been misled by the quarry. If would take fast work to make up the ground. If the building energy she had sensed was as great as she thought, she would need help. And luck. Verner had been lucky before. Since Sam’s group was already after the Circle, they might be willing to share the hunt. She wouldn’t have to pay them, and might even be able to arrange for them to take any heat the operation generated.
She left her hiding place, arms held clear of her sides, and walked forward. She was acutely conscious of the Beretta Model 70 hanging on its TEAM sling and slapping against her butt. It wouldn’t do to be shot by friendlies.
“I’d wish you a good evening, but it doesn’t seem to be one. It appears we have all been disappointed.”
The dark-clad elves drew weapons in a blur and trained them on her. Dodger, still fumbling to clear his gun from an entanglement with his cyberdeck, stepped into the woman’s line of fire. She looked annoyed, but shifted to get a new line. Sam tensed, and Hart felt a flicker of power. Something in the air, she thought. He hadn’t been magically active when they had last met. She waited while they searched the surrounding darkness, seeking to assure themselves that she was alone.
“Perhaps we can join forces,” she said. “With some fast transport, we might be able to raid them before they finish their ritual. The Circle’s not too far away.”
“What do you have to do with this?” the dark-haired elf asked.
Sam ignored his companion, stepped forward, and asked his own question. “To the southwest?”
She nodded.
“Glover’s estate,” Dodger said.
Sam slammed his fist on the altar stone. “We were right on top of their site and never knew it. If we’d stayed, we might have done something, but we’ll never fight our way in now.” Turning to Hart, he said, “Unless you’ve got another dracoform for a partner.”
“No more dragons,” she said. He gave her an odd look, and she knew she hadn’t masked her emotions. What signal she had sent him, she didn’t know. Months later, she still didn’t fully understand her own feelings on the matter and Sam’s place in them.
“Well, I guess I’m not surprised. A strike team, maybe?”
She shook her head.
“We’ll have to try, anyway,” he said. “They can’t be allowed to complete their ritual.”
As Sam started to leave the henge, the dark-haired male elf stepped in his way. “Can she be trusted?”
Sam looked up into the elf’s face. He waited until the cool blue eyes met his, then replied, “I was once told never to trust an elf, Estios. It’s always seemed like good advice around you.”
Sam looked around at his companions, making Hart very conscious of her metatype. The points of her ears felt hot under his scrutiny. “But it seems I have little choice,” he continued. “I’m a minority of one in this crowd. At the moment, I have to trust anyone who looks like they can do something about the druids. Hart’s a professional shadowrunner, ready for action, and willing to help. You want to pass up another soldier? The druids will be prepared for trouble, and Glover will have tightened his security after our escape. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Estios remained stiff for a second, as if to reassert his command of the situation. “Very well. I will call the aircraft.”