Raven's Gate

blade curving towards his eye. The floor seemed to shake and then, one after another, the wooden planks cracked open, splinters exploding all around. Brilliant light streamed through and in the light he thought he saw something like a giant, inhuman hand.
    A voice echoed in his ears.
    “One of the Five!” it whispered.
    The light engulfed him. He felt it sweeping through him, burning the inside of his head. He slammed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block it out. Then he was falling backwards, but he was unconscious long before he hit the floor.

A WARNING
    “What’s wrong with him?”
    “He has pneumonia.”
    “What?”
    “He may die.”
    “He can’t!”
    “Cure him, Mrs Deverill. It’s your responsibility. See that he lives!”
    Matt heard the voices but he wasn’t sure who they belonged to. He was lying in bed. He could feel a pillow against the back of his head. But as for the rest of it, he wasn’t sure if he was asleep or awake. He propped himself up and half-opened his eyes. Sweat trickled down the side of his face. The single movement had taken all his strength.
    The door had just closed. Someone – the last person who had spoken – had left. It was a man, but Matt had been unable to see his face. Mrs Deverill was in the room with Matt, standing next to another woman, also white-haired but with some sort of bright red mark on the side of her face. Noah was lingering in the background, rubbing his hands.
    Then the room shimmered and suddenly the curtains were closed. There were flames leaping up, right next to the bed. Was the building on fire? No. They had set up some sort of metal tripod with a brazier filled with coals. The two women were speaking in a language that he didn’t understand, whispering to each other as they fed the flames with black- and green-coloured crystals. Matt saw the crystals melt and bubble, and at once the room was filled with yellow smoke. The smell of sulphur crept into his nostrils. Matt choked and his eyes watered. He tried to lick his lips but his mouth was dry.
    Noah came forward, holding a dish. The second woman – the one Matt didn’t know – was holding a snake. Where had it come from? It was an ugly brown, half a metre long, writhing in front of her. A viper? She had produced a scalpel, the sort of thing a surgeon might use. Matt saw her hold the snake by the head and then slit it open. Dark red liquid oozed out, dripping down into a metal cup. The snake became rigid and still.
    Mrs Deverill pulled back the bedcovers. Matt was only wearing underpants and he shrank back as she leant over him. She dipped a finger in the snake’s blood, then drew a line down his chest and on to his stomach. The liquid was warm and sticky against his skin. He tried to move, but his body would no longer obey him. He could only watch as Mrs Deverill reached up and made some sort of mark on his forehead.
    “Open your mouth,” she commanded.
    “No…” Matt whispered the single word. He tried to stop himself. But suddenly his mouth was open and Mrs Deverill was feeding him from the cup. He knew that he was drinking blood. It tasted bitter, more horrible than anything in the world. He was going to be sick. He wanted to get it out of his system but instead it slithered into his stomach like the ghost of the snake it had come from. And at the same time he was sucked backwards, into the mattress, into the floor, buried alive until…
    He opened his eyes.
    Mrs Deverill was in the room, reading a book. There was nobody with her. The window was open, allowing the breeze to come in. Matt swallowed. He was feeling light-headed but otherwise fine.
    “So you’ve woken up at last,” Mrs Deverill muttered, closing the book.
    “What happened?” Matt asked.
    “You’ve been ill. Nothing very serious. Pneumonia. A touch of pleurisy. But it’s all behind you now.”
    “You gave me something to drink…” Matt tried to remember, even though he didn’t want to. The very thought of what had happened repulsed him. “There was a snake,” he said.
    “A snake? What are you talking about? You’ve been having bad dreams, Matthew. I would imagine it comes from watching too much television.”
    “I’m hungry,” Matt said.
    “I expect you are. You haven’t eaten for three days.”
    “Three days!”
    “That’s how long you were unconscious.” She got up and shuffled over to the door. “I’ll bring you up some tea,” she said. “You can rest tomorrow but after