Torchwood: Divergence
Book Two: Adferiad

Chapter 54

The old "manor house" was more like an over-sized cottage, and was well hidden among the snow blotched tangle of scrub and holly in a draw not far from where they'd parked the SUV. Ianto had left his great coat and Desert Eagle in the vehicle, though he still wore his earcomm and had a flash bomb in the pocket of his grey flecked, caramel brown jacket in case of emergency.

They approached the dilapidated building cautiously, avoiding leaving tracks in the snow as they reconned the site, uneasy with the fact that though it was apparently in use, there wasn't a soul to be seen out of doors. Jones checked his PDA when it vibrated in his jacket's other pocket, showed the readings to his Captain. The strange energy spike was stronger than ever, and was definitely coming from inside the run-down house they'd come to check out. Together the pair crept to the nearest holly obscured window, peeked through the foliage and smeared glass to see what might be inside. A man wearing a threadbare blue business suit under a nearly shredded priest's cassock was standing in the doorway between the foyer and the kitchen area, holding a strange, slightly arched oblong shaped object that appeared to be made of slowly undulating liquid metal.

The two Torchwood operatives eased away from the window and retreated to a non-drifted area along the building's still reasonably intact west corner, away from the front door and any other openings. The man with the device hadn't been alone or with the couple dozen cultists they'd been expecting. Instead, it had seemed that the entire house was packed wall to wall with people of all ages sitting on the floors.

"Not liking the vibe here," Harkness breathed, reaching up to activate his earcomm. "Gwen, we… Gwen?"

There was nothing but oscillating static over the connection, his partner getting the same when he tried his as well.

"Blocked," Ianto surmised. "Not good… and I think we have company."

Cult members were silently filing out of the old house, slowly advancing on the intruders in their territory. Jack signalled to retreat when the group started to produce knives, hand scythes and axes, reached for his holstered gun as he started to move. But he bumped into a body right behind him, his partner slightly in front and to the side of his position, and so not a possible candidate. He began to turn, had an instant to see the wide brown eyes of a girl no more than ten staring up at him. Then she rammed a butcher's knife into his chest under the arch of his sternum and the Dark swallowed him whole, the sound of Ianto calling his name the only snatch of reality that followed him into death…

An unknown span of time later, the undying brunette gasped his way back to life, disoriented and more than just a little angry with both the cult and himself. He'd been killed by a child for the gods' sake. He became aware of being in motion, but not under his own power. Fighting to focus, he realised that his beloved Archivist was struggling along through the slush swathed, winter ravaged woods, carrying him over his shoulders like a veteran firefighter. They came to a slithering halt, the younger man obviously able to tell his companion was awake and easing him down to see if he could stand. It took a minute, but finally the American could manage it.

"We need to keep moving," Ianto urged, sounding slightly out of breath as he pulled the older man's right arm across his shoulders and half-carried him along.

"This is bad," Jack gasped, still trying to orient after his brief taste of death from the unexpected knife in the chest. "Comms still down?"

"Nothing but static," Jones replied, supporting most of the Captain's weight as they stumbled through the trees. "Yours is broken though, came off when you fell. They were between us and the SUV, but I managed to get a mobile call off to Gwen. Just enough to request urgent back up, before the signal was jammed like the comms. Left the phone on for GPS tracking, it's in your coat pocket with my PDA… less chance of them getting lost. So much for a peaceful meeting."

"Who are all those people?" the Captain wondered aloud. "And how did we get away from their hideout?"

"I'd say that the Cult you had Owen check out before has grown a lot as they moved this way," his partner explained, frantically looking around for some kind of defensible shelter. "I agree that they're human and really in need of psychiatric help, but I think from the glimpse we got, that whatever they've decided to worship is definitely alien and has to be what we picked up the energy signature from. They won't let us go now we've seen it. I back-handed the girl with the knife, used the flash bomb to disorient them and dragged you off into the woods. But they're behind us… I can hear them."

"Fanatics make life so difficult," Harkness complained, managing to get everything back on an even keel so he could take more of his own weight.

"They're driving us toward the cliffs," the Welshman supporting him warned. "The sound of the waves is getting louder as we go. My gun's in the SUV. Do we try to make a stand anyhow, or do I take us off the rocks for a swim?"

There was a sharp cracking sound from behind them just then and Ianto stumbled with a pained gasp, a crimson stain spreading down the back of his right trouser leg with frightening speed.

"Bloody hell," the twenty-six-year-old choked, the injured limb not wanting to bear his weight, forcing them to slow as Jack tried to help him. "Hunting rifle… we need to find cover."

There was another crack, and their progress halted abruptly.

"Not my day…" the Captain breathed, collapsing against his companion as the Dark rushed to claim him once more.

"Jack!"

Ianto tried to keep the older man from hitting the ground, but his injured leg gave out and they both went down in the ice crusted snow. He gathered his lover close, found the bullet hole in the back of the great coat… a heart shot. Angry and desperate, the young Changeling prepared to do something rash. He struggled up, forcing his wounded leg to work by will alone, pulled Harkness into his arms and staggered the last few yards to the cliffs. There was a good-sized ledge about five feet down over the edge of the sharp drop-off, and he carefully started sliding his lover toward it. Needing just a little more reach, he manifested his wings to keep from falling, and got Jack down safe.

"I know you can track me," Ianto murmured. "Maybe this will give us the advantage we need to get this mess sorted, keep the team from walking into the same nightmare."

Then he awkwardly scrambled back to his feet, intending to lead the cultists away if possible. But before he could retract his wings and take more than two limping steps from the cliff edge, something glanced off his left shoulder making a rip in the field jacket and shirt beneath to leave a gash in its wake. The Scieron Guardian instinctively manifested a sword, prepared to make a stand and fight instead.

"Don't make me hurt you!" Ianto shouted desperately as several of the cult members emerged from the trees.

The group stopped, staring in awe at his silvery wings and the mirror bright broadsword he held before him in a ready position. Hoping that they'd back off the way the Weevils did in is presence, the eternal twenty-six-year-old took a limping step forward. Only to have an ultra-high-pitched sound cut the air, the noise sending pain searing behind his eyes to nearly blind him. He involuntarily retracted his wings and banished his weapon, focusing everything on trying to block out the tone and stop the agony it was inflicting.

Ianto cried out, going to his knees and unconsciously yanking off his headset as blood began to stream from his eyes, ears, and nose, the effects of the noise bringing him perilously close to a seizure. Then as suddenly as it had started the strange sound stopped, leaving the young Welshman gasping, disoriented, and shaking. Hands grabbed him, trying to haul him to his feet and he fought back instinctively. But something hard and heavy connected forcibly with the back of his head, and the world went dark.

Ianto's last thoughts were muddled, fear for his unprotected partner and hope that the rest of the team would soon arrive overwhelming any concern for his own safety. He had a notion that the alien artefact in the Cult's "church" had created the strange tone that had taken him down, and didn't want to think about what the group intended to do with him now, since they'd seemed set on killing him and Jack both only moments before. It wasn't likely to be very pleasant, one way or the other.

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AN: The boys are having a really bad day… and Ianto's just got exponentially worse.

Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM