Raven's Gate

in England anyway. I’m working at the Natural History Museum. But I’m grateful to everyone else for coming. This meeting was called at short notice and I know some of you have travelled a long way.” He nodded at the man sitting next to him, who had flown in from Sydney, Australia. “As you are all aware, Miss Ashwood called me three nights ago, requesting an emergency session of the Nexus. Having spoken with her, I agreed that it was critical we should meet straight away. Again, I thank you for coming.”
    Dravid turned to Miss Ashwood. “Tell them what you told me, Miss Ashwood,” he said.
    “Of course.” Miss Ashwood glided her hand to a glass in front of her and took a sip of water. “Seven months have passed since we last met,” she began. “At that time I told you that I was aware of a growing danger, a sense that something was very wrong. We agreed that we would continue to monitor the situation, as we have always done. We are the eyes of the world. Although I, of course, have other ways of seeing.”
    She paused.
    “The danger has become more acute,” she continued. “For weeks now I’ve been thinking I should call you and I’ve spoken several times with Professor Dravid. Well, I can’t leave it any longer. I am certain, in my heart, that our worst fears are to be realized. Raven’s Gate is about to open.”
    There was a stir around the table. But several of them were looking doubtful.
    “What evidence do you have, Miss Ashwood?” one of the men asked. He was tall and olive-skinned. He had travelled from South America to be here.
    “You know my evidence very well, Mr Fabian. You know why I was invited to join the Nexus.”
    “Even so… What have you been told?”
    “I haven’t been told anything. I wish it were as simple as that. I can only tell you what I feel. And right now, it’s as if there’s poison in the air. I’m aware of it all the time and it’s getting worse. The darkness is coming. It’s taking shape. You have to trust me.”
    “I hope that isn’t why you’ve brought us all here tonight.” An elderly man had spoken. He was a bishop, dressed in a clerical collar with a gold cross around his neck. He took off his spectacles and cleaned them as he continued. “I’m very well aware of your abilities, Miss Ashwood, and I have great respect for them. But can you really ask us to accept that something is the case just because you believe it to be so?”
    “I thought that was what faith was all about,” Miss Ashwood retorted.
    “The Christian faith is written down. Nobody has ever written a history of the Old Ones.”
    “That’s not true,” Dravid muttered. He raised a single finger. “You’re forgetting the Spanish monk.”
    “St Joseph of Cordoba? His book has been lost and he himself was discredited centuries ago.” The bishop sighed. “This is very difficult for me,” he said. “You have to remember that, officially, the Church does not believe in your Old Ones any more than we believe in demons or devils or all the rest of it. If it was known that I was part of the Nexus, I would have to resign. I am here only because you and I have the same aims. We are all afraid of the same thing, no matter what we choose to call it. But I cannot accept –
will
not accept – guesswork and superstition. I’m sorry, Miss Ashwood. You have to give us more evidence.”
    “Maybe I can be of assistance,” another man said. He was a policeman, an assistant commissioner based at Scotland Yard. “I did notice something very recently that might be of interest. It was very minor, so I didn’t report it to you, but in the light of what you are saying now…”
    “Go on,” Professor Dravid said.
    “Well, it concerns a petty criminal, a drug addict by the name of Will Scott. He was last seen following a woman into an alleyway not very far from here, in Holborn. Presumably she would have been his next victim. He had a knife. And a record of armed violence.”
    “What happened?”
    “It wasn’t the woman who ended up as the victim. She disappeared. It was Scott who was found dead. He killed himself. He pushed the knife into his own heart.”
    “What’s so strange about that?” one of the women asked.
    “He did it in broad daylight in the middle of London. But it wasn’t just that. I saw his face…” The policeman paused. “I knew at once that this was something completely abnormal. The look of terror. It was as if he had tried to fight it. As if he didn’t