Raven's Gate

dangling from it, and on the stone was a symbol engraved in gold. The outline of a key.
    “Wear this,” Burgess said. “Don’t ask me to explain it, but you won’t get lost if you’re wearing it. Come to my house tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
    “Why not now?” Matt demanded.
    “Because it’s not safe – not for either of us. I have a car. You come to my house and we’ll leave together.”
    Tom Burgess strode away, heading for the line of trees.
    “Wait a minute!” Matt called after him. “I don’t know how to get out of the wood!”
    Burgess stopped, turned round and pointed. “Look under your feet,” he shouted. “You’re standing on the road.” Then he was gone.
    Matt examined the ground around him. There was a line of black tarmac, barely visible beneath the weeds and the pine needles. He would have to follow it carefully, but at least it would lead him out. The stone talisman was still in his hand. He ran a finger along the key, wondering if it was real gold. Then he slipped it around his neck, making sure it was hidden under his shirt.
    A few minutes later, Matt found himself back on the main road. He examined the entrance to Omega One carefully. It was nothing more than a gap between two trees in a line of several hundred. He had pedalled past without even knowing it was there and it would be almost impossible to find again. He took off his jacket, tore a strip of material from his T-shirt, and tied it in a knot around a branch. Then he stepped back and examined his handiwork. The tiny, pale blue flag he had created would show him the way back if he ever needed it. Satisfied, he put his jacket back on and set off to retrieve his bike.
    About forty minutes later Matt arrived back at Hive Hall. It was almost midday. Noah was working on the side of the barn, painting it with creosote. Matt could smell the chemical in the air. Mrs Deverill would be in the farmhouse, making lunch.
    Brushing a few needles off his jacket, Matt walked up to the front door. He was just reaching for the handle when he stopped and stepped back with a shiver of disbelief.
    Asmodeus was there, sitting on the windowsill, licking one of its paws. The cat wasn’t dead. It wasn’t even hurt. Seeing Matt, it purred menacingly then suddenly leapt away, disappearing into the house.

WET PAINT
    Matt didn’t sleep well that night. He had too many unanswered questions in his head, and the fact that Tom Burgess had promised to answer them made him tense and restless. He couldn’t wait to find out the truth. But that was exactly what he had to do, tossing around in his narrow bed as the sky became grey, then silver, then finally blue. Mornings on the farm normally began with breakfast at seven o’clock. Mrs Deverill was already in the kitchen when he came down.
    “So what happened to you yesterday morning?” she demanded. She was wearing a dull yellow cardigan, a shapeless grey dress and wellington boots. All the clothes she wore at Hive Hall looked as if they had come out of a charity shop.
    “I went for a walk.”
    “A walk? Where?”
    “Just around.”
    Mrs Deverill took a pan off the Aga and spooned thick porridge into two bowls. “I don’t remember you asking permission,” she said.
    “I don’t remember you telling me I had to,” Matt replied.
    Mrs Deverill’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t say I’m used to being spoken to in that way,” she muttered. Then she shrugged as if it didn’t matter anyway. “I was only thinking of you, Matthew,” she went on. “If you look at the booklets provided by the LEAF Project, you’ll see quite clearly that I’m supposed to know where you are at all times. I’d hate to have to report that you’ve broken the rules.”
    “You can report what you like.”
    She placed the two bowls on the table and sat down opposite him. “There’s a lot of work to be done today. The tractor needs hosing down. And we could do with some firewood being chopped.”
    “Whatever you say, Mrs Deverill.”
    “Exactly.” The pale lips pressed together in something like a smile. “Whatever I say.”
    It was nine o’clock, one hour before Matt had arranged to meet Tom Burgess. Matt was working on the tractor, washing it down. For the fiftieth time he looked around him, and realized he was finally alone. Noah was on the other side of the barn, mending some pipes. Mrs Deverill was feeding the pigs. Neither of them was watching him, nor was there any sign of