Chapter One
It was too hot for June.
The heat lay on the industrial estate, suffocating anything unfortunate enough to be there.
The pigeon shook itself and cooed softly in the shade of a tree. The noise died in the thick air.
The pigeon hoped that it could stay in the shade of the tree till nightime, when it would hopefully be cooler. In the meantime it watched the activity below.
But it was too hot for much activity. The cars slunk down the roads like shimmering, glaring slugs. The people unfortunate to be out dragged their feet and sweated, the moisture evaporating instantly in the air, that was almost too oppressive to breath.
If the pigeon hadn't been trying to dose, it would of noticed a convoy of low-slung black cars creep into the car park of one of the corrugated iron warehouses. If the pigeon had been paying attention it would of noticed the car doors opening and slamming shut. Most of the people getting out were men, and they were all drooping in the heat. They were dressed in long coats, completely inappropriate for the stifling temperature. A chorus of curses and anger at leaving the air-conditioned cars drifted up to the pigeon.
A very tall man who moved like an eel was arguing with the apparent leader, a man with pale blonde hair that shone damply in the Sun.
The other figures in the long coats moved round the building, and were lost to sight in the heat haze.
After about half an hour the cars slunk away, carrying their cargo with them. In the heat of midday all the office workers hid in their offices and no one saw them go.
About twenty minuets later the pigeon was woken by a rustling in the tree. It panicked, flapping it wings and leapt out cooing frantically as it fled from the hawk now perched in the branches.
If coherent thoughts could pass through it's tiny pigeon brain it would of realised the hawk was a red kite. Very rare in the heat smothered South of England.
The hawk was also far too hot and desperately needed a drink, but it didn't leave the tree. It seemed to be waiting for something.
The afternoon dragged on interminably. The hawk watched the Sun to measure the time, but the glare hurt it's sensitive eyes. At about five o'clock the brightly coloured slugs began to rush out of the estate. A bus crawled past, holding up the rest of the angry traffic. By seven the park was completely empty.
If the hawk had hoped the evening would bring respite from the heat it was wrong, the heat still drowned the empty offices and warehouses. The hawk clung to its branch.
At nine something very odd seemed to be happening. Around the warehouse people in black cloaks and masks seemed to be appearing in the heavy air. The didn't speak to each other but moved rapidly to the warehouse and slipped inside. The hawk was alert now and staring fixedly at the corrugated iron box.
Half and hour later more people appeared. They were dressed normally and seemed to be trying to keep out of sight in the few, limp trees.
On seeing them the hawk leapt from it's tree and seemed to shimmer and change. Where it had been stood a tall young woman with rich, dark red hair.
A man approached her with a bottle of water which she gulped down frantically. They had a brief conversation and then the strangers began to creep towards the warehouse.
What happened next was confusing and strange. One of the men banged on the main door of the warehouse and proceeded to argue with the a figure from inside. The red haired girl led the rest round the back.
The argument at the front seemed to be getting more heated.
Then, suddenly, what looked like fireworks started to go off in the darkness. Jets of coloured light sliced through the air, smashing the windows, and screams echoed in the still, hot night.
The man at the front of the building was now curled up on the floor, coughing up gouts of blood. He was bleeding his life away onto the dusty tarmac.
A woman ran through the open doors and leapt over the dying man. The red haired girl followed, but tripped on the man. As she tripped she yelled,
"Stupify!"
But tripping up had spoiled her aim and she completely misfired.
The other woman turned, laughed and called out,
"Nocthorrifica!"
The red haired girl froze for a second and then fell to the floor screaming and tearing at her arms as she was plunged into her worst nightmare.
It was too hot for June.
The heat lay on the industrial estate, suffocating anything unfortunate enough to be there.
The pigeon shook itself and cooed softly in the shade of a tree. The noise died in the thick air.
The pigeon hoped that it could stay in the shade of the tree till nightime, when it would hopefully be cooler. In the meantime it watched the activity below.
But it was too hot for much activity. The cars slunk down the roads like shimmering, glaring slugs. The people unfortunate to be out dragged their feet and sweated, the moisture evaporating instantly in the air, that was almost too oppressive to breath.
If the pigeon hadn't been trying to dose, it would of noticed a convoy of low-slung black cars creep into the car park of one of the corrugated iron warehouses. If the pigeon had been paying attention it would of noticed the car doors opening and slamming shut. Most of the people getting out were men, and they were all drooping in the heat. They were dressed in long coats, completely inappropriate for the stifling temperature. A chorus of curses and anger at leaving the air-conditioned cars drifted up to the pigeon.
A very tall man who moved like an eel was arguing with the apparent leader, a man with pale blonde hair that shone damply in the Sun.
The other figures in the long coats moved round the building, and were lost to sight in the heat haze.
After about half an hour the cars slunk away, carrying their cargo with them. In the heat of midday all the office workers hid in their offices and no one saw them go.
About twenty minuets later the pigeon was woken by a rustling in the tree. It panicked, flapping it wings and leapt out cooing frantically as it fled from the hawk now perched in the branches.
If coherent thoughts could pass through it's tiny pigeon brain it would of realised the hawk was a red kite. Very rare in the heat smothered South of England.
The hawk was also far too hot and desperately needed a drink, but it didn't leave the tree. It seemed to be waiting for something.
The afternoon dragged on interminably. The hawk watched the Sun to measure the time, but the glare hurt it's sensitive eyes. At about five o'clock the brightly coloured slugs began to rush out of the estate. A bus crawled past, holding up the rest of the angry traffic. By seven the park was completely empty.
If the hawk had hoped the evening would bring respite from the heat it was wrong, the heat still drowned the empty offices and warehouses. The hawk clung to its branch.
At nine something very odd seemed to be happening. Around the warehouse people in black cloaks and masks seemed to be appearing in the heavy air. The didn't speak to each other but moved rapidly to the warehouse and slipped inside. The hawk was alert now and staring fixedly at the corrugated iron box.
Half and hour later more people appeared. They were dressed normally and seemed to be trying to keep out of sight in the few, limp trees.
On seeing them the hawk leapt from it's tree and seemed to shimmer and change. Where it had been stood a tall young woman with rich, dark red hair.
A man approached her with a bottle of water which she gulped down frantically. They had a brief conversation and then the strangers began to creep towards the warehouse.
What happened next was confusing and strange. One of the men banged on the main door of the warehouse and proceeded to argue with the a figure from inside. The red haired girl led the rest round the back.
The argument at the front seemed to be getting more heated.
Then, suddenly, what looked like fireworks started to go off in the darkness. Jets of coloured light sliced through the air, smashing the windows, and screams echoed in the still, hot night.
The man at the front of the building was now curled up on the floor, coughing up gouts of blood. He was bleeding his life away onto the dusty tarmac.
A woman ran through the open doors and leapt over the dying man. The red haired girl followed, but tripped on the man. As she tripped she yelled,
"Stupify!"
But tripping up had spoiled her aim and she completely misfired.
The other woman turned, laughed and called out,
"Nocthorrifica!"
The red haired girl froze for a second and then fell to the floor screaming and tearing at her arms as she was plunged into her worst nightmare.