Necropolis

their God.
    "We have been here ever since. Of course, with so few of us, the monastery has fallen into disrepair.
    Once, the villagers brought us food because they revered us. Now they give it to us because they are afraid. We have survived a very long time, always waiting, always watching the door. Because we knew that you would come. And recently we realized that our time had come. We were expecting you."

    "How?"
    "Because the Old Ones have returned to the world. Even now, they are gathering strength, waiting to take back what was always theirs. Their agents have contacted us. Very soon, we will hand you over to them. And then we will have our reward."
    "What will happen to me?"
    "The Old Ones will not kill you. You don't need to be afraid. But they will need to keep you close to them, and you still must pay for what you did to them so many years ago."
    "I didn't do anything! I don't know what you're talking about…"
    Father Gregory nodded his head sadly. "A great pity," he murmured. "I had expected more of you. A warrior or a great magician. But you really are nothing. A little girl, as you said, from school. Maybe the Old Ones will let me torture you for a while before you go. I would like that very much. To pay you back for the disappointment. We will see…"
    He stood up and went over to the door. He walked with a limp, and it occurred to Scarlett that as well as the diseased eye, he might have a withered leg. It took him a while even to cross the room, and she briefly wondered if she might be able to overpower him. But it wouldn't have done any good. When he opened the door, the two monks who had brought her there were waiting on the other side.
    "They will take you back to your cell," he said. "They will also bring you food and water. I imagine you will be with us a few days."
    Scarlett stood up and walked past him. There was nothing else she could do. For a brief moment, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Father Gregory reached out and stroked her hair.
    Scarlett shuddered. She didn't even try to hide her revulsion.
    "Good-bye, Scarlett," he said. 'You have no idea how glad I am that we have met."
    Scarlett let the two monks walk her away. She didn't look back.
    FOUR
    Dragon's Breath
    They took Scarlett back to the same cell she had occupied — but they had been busy while she was away. Someone had carried in a bed — although the moment she saw it, she knew she wasn't going to be allowed the privilege of a comfortable sleep. It was little more than a cot with sagging springs and a metal frame; she wouldn't even be able to stretch out without her feet going over the end. There were just two coarse blankets to protect her from the chill of the night and no pillow.
    They had also supplied her with a table, a chair, and a bucket that she guessed she was expected to use as a toilet, although she didn't even want to think about that. A candle in a glass lantern now lit the room, and they had provided her with a meager dinner. A bowl of thin vegetable soup, a hunk of bread, and a mug were waiting on the table. There was a spoon to eat with — and if Scarlett had any thought of using it as a weapon, her hopes were soon dashed. It was flimsy, made of tin. They hadn't bothered with a knife or a fork.
    She didn't feel like eating yet. If anything, the sight of the starvation rations brought home the full horror of her situation. These people were utterly merciless. They wanted her to live, but they didn't care how miserable or painful her life became — they had made that much clear. Scarlett sat down on the bed and sank her head into her hands. She thought she was going to cry, but the tears didn't come. The Old Ones.
    The Gatekeepers. The twenty-five doors around the world. Everything that Father Gregory had said seemed to spin round and round her, sucking her ever farther into a tunnel of misery and despair. How could this have happened to her? Could any of it really be true?
    Somehow, she forced herself to go over it, to unpick the words. Much of what Father Gregory had said sounded completely insane. But at the same time, she had to admit that a lot of it was strangely familiar.
    There were echoes. There had been strange incidents in her life and they had taken place long before she walked through the church door.
    The dreams, for one. Father Gregory had mentioned five children — four boys and a girl. Scarlett had been dreaming exactly the same thing for almost two years. And how