Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper by Alan Early Page A

position and was triumphantly watching them go while Garda Eddie McKean struggled out of the car, staring helplessly after the rapidly dwindling Beetle. He kicked his driver’s door furiously and turned to apprehend Eirik, but the Viking was disappearing into the thick woodland beyond the embankment.
    â€˜That was close,’ sighed Ash, as she settled back into her seat.
    Arthur nodded. ‘Tell me about it!’

    They arrived in Farranfore just before eight o’clock. After they had left the Garda’s smoking squad car in their wake, the rest of the drive to Kerry went smoothly enough. Arthur had been worried that the traffic cop would alert more Gardaí to the Beetle’s presence, so they had gotten off the motorway quickly and used the back roads. It had taken a little longer, but they had not been spotted by any other cops. When they got to Farranfore, Arthur directed Ex to the village cemetery.
    It was a strange feeling to be back in the town with Ash, Ellie and Ex in tow. And especially on this mission. Joe would be getting worried that Arthur wasn’t home from school. Arthur knew he should call and put his mind at ease, but they hadn’t time. Plus, knowing what he now knew about his mother, he couldn’t face Joe until some resolution had been reached. If only I’d stayed here today and let Ash find Fenrir, Arthur thought, then maybe I’d have had a better chance of reaching Hel first. As it was now, he seriously doubted they were in time.
    Ex parked outside the stone-walled entrance to the graveyard and they all got out of the car. The sky was a deep crimson, reflecting the lights of the town, and not even the moon, hiding behind the thickest cloud, broke the monotony.
    â€˜Let me go alone,’ Arthur told them.
    â€˜What if something happens to you?’ asked Ash.
    â€˜Well, if it does you can help then. But, please, for now I need to do this by myself.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜I am,’ he said and slung the backpack with the hammer still in it over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure whether or not Loki could sense the magic of the hammer, but he wanted to try to keep whatever element of surprise he could. Then, as the sun vanished below the horizon, he went into the quiet graveyard by himself.
    If it hadn’t been for the nearby streetlights of the village, the cemetery would have been pitch black. As it was, he could see adequately in the gloom and he followed the familiar path through the graves. A mist had settled a foot above the ground and wispy fingers of fog caressed the gravestones. When he was close enough to see his mother’s resting place, he could make out a figure sitting on the tombstone. She had her back to him and was hunched over slightly, her outline lit from below by the red eternal lantern. His feet crunched across gravel and dried grass as he moved ever closer, keeping his eye fixed on the figure.
    â€˜Hello?’ he called out, but got no reply; the figure didn’t so much as shudder. He could see now that she was wearing a long navy-blue dress. He recalled seeing it once before: they’d buried his mother in it. As he kept walking, his hands started to shake. He put them in his pockets to stop them, but it was no use so he took them out again. He could feel the warmth of the pendant on his chest and knew that it would be glowing green, ready to protect him from Loki, but that wasn’t much comfort. All he wanted was to run away from this place and never look back. But he had to keep going.
    He stopped by the edge of his mother’s open grave. A deep hole looked down into an empty coffin and the lid was lying next to the grave itself, snapped jaggedly in two.
    â€˜Mum?’
    The woman on the gravestone lifted her head and slowly slid from her seat, deliberately turning to face him. Her movements were jerky, like she wasn’t used to controlling her limbs; it was a disturbing sight – lacking in