The Stone Circle

CHAPTER 1

A night expedition

THE FULL MOON seemed suspended over the lake and cast a ghostly glow as Chris stepped out of his car onto the gravel. The area was deserted. A cold wind whispered through the rushes and teased the surface of the water. The only sound came from the wind plucking at the rigging of boats in the nearby yacht club. On any weekend night he would have seen a number of late night revellers staggering about the area or a few couples walking dogs next to the lake, but it was 11:15 on a Wednesday night. The regulars were tucked up in their homes. It was where he wished he was at that moment. He pulled up the collar on his black ski jacket and reached into the car for the camera. As a reporter for the Milton Keynes Observer, he had access to professional camera equipment and used it when necessary. He hated having to ask a cameraman to accompany him. Besides, his mission was too risky to endanger any of his colleagues and he had thought it better to go alone. In fact he had told no-one about his intended visit to the lake. It was better that way.

The knowledge he carried was as dangerous as any personal threat and he was loath to pass it on to those around him. He had requested a night-vision camera so that he could capture images without a flash that might give away his location. As excited as he was at the prospect of solving the mystery and reporting his findings as a newspaper scoop, he felt the tingling of fear and a shiver ran down his spine. He could see the lights from the hotel off to the right and it gave him some comfort to know that help was close at hand if something were to happen. He scolded himself for being a coward, but people had been disappearing over a number of months and, based on clues he had uncovered, he had reason to feel at least a little uneasy. Amy, his assistant, had been surprised when he had borrowed a camera. Ordinarily he would have requested a photographer to accompany him, but he had made up an excuse about taking some photos of an owl that was frequenting his garden. He could see that she didn’t believe him, but the less others knew about his investigation, the less they could be harmed by it. He was also not sure that he could trust anyone with the information he had gathered. Already he felt he was being watched. He had taken the precaution of leaving some items in his post office box in the hope that someone would use them to follow his trail if he disappeared like the others.

He locked the car, jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and trudged down to the gravel path that followed the edge of the lake. Chris knew Willen well. He had lived in the adjacent area of Giffard Park for five years, and had walked the path next to the lake many times. The lake itself was distributed on either side of the bridge over the Portway road. To his mind, the two halves of the man-made lake were like Yin and Yang. One side was geared towards visitors, with a trapeze for water-skiing, a gym, a God-awful restaurant and other varied entertainment, while the North side featured a Buddhist temple, a Peace Pagoda and a stone circle.

He headed for the underpass leading to the North lake. Ordinarily he loved walking the path, but on this cold, moonlit night, he felt only trepidation. The moonlight gave him little comfort as it flooded the path in its silvery glow. His footsteps resounded on the gravel despite his rubber-soled shoes. Fluorescent lights bathed the underpass in artificial light, making the exit onto the North shore seem like the entrance to a cave. Chris felt that he was crossing into no-man’s land. The point of no return.

That’s silly, he chided himself. Of course I’ll be returning, although he wasn’t sure what he would discover down at the lake. He was certain that his presence would not be welcome by whomever was planning to meet there. Chris had passed the stone circle many times during his walks, but, like many other locals, he had never bothered to find out its true purpose. He was aware that such monuments were used in benign pagan rituals, but the very reason for his presence at the lake meant that it was probably being used for something more sinister. Across the path and set further back from the lake beneath a grove of cherry trees nestled the little Buddhist temple. Further along, on top of a hillock loomed the Peace Pagoda, rising like a majestic, white, gold-tipped sentinel above the lake. Chris was struck by the contrast of the peace and tranquillity represented by the Buddhist structures on the far side of the path compared to the sinister stone circle.

He ducked to the right as he exited the underpass. Knowing that the stone circle was surrounded by cropped grass and offered little chance of concealment, he opted for some dense bush a short distance away. He had arrived earlier than the anticipated time of midnight so he could be in place and have his equipment set up before anyone arrived. He opened a small blanket and laid it to one side. On it, he placed his camera, notebook and flask of coffee. He peered through the bush at the stone circle. The stones were illuminated by the moon as if in readiness for the cast of some macabre play. There was no-one about, but Chris hoped that his conclusions would prove to be correct. On the other hand, the coward inside him hoped fervently that his conclusions were wrong and that the evening would be uneventful. However, his gut feeling told him that this was unlikely to be the case. Besides, it was high time that the mystery was solved and he would be the one to solve it. He told himself that his sacrifice was small in comparison to all those who had disappeared, maybe even lost their lives, over the months.

Although he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone where he was going, he had left a letter amongst his personal papers. He knew that if something happened to him his papers would be searched and the letter found. He wished that he had brought somebody else along for company. Of course he had no way of knowing what he was facing, so there would have to be a follow-up investigation. But what if they didn’t find the letter? Perhaps the place he had hidden it was too obscure… . He stopped his thoughts from charging down that negative path. He had come too far to turn back now. He pulled his collar up higher against the icy breeze and hunched down into his jacket to wait. He didn’t have to wait long. He heard the sound of voices and peered through the brush to see two women approaching the stone circle from the direction of Willen village. He recognised them as the two ladies that worked in the local post office in Giffard Park. They had been the subject of his investigation for the past four weeks. Many times when there had been a disappearance, it was followed by a comment from witnesses that the women had been seen in the area. The police had questioned them at length, but they were always just out for a walk and there was nothing to tie them to the incidents other than that they happened to be in the area at the time.

He watched as they approached the stone circle and began unpacking items from a large striped duffel bag that would have looked more at home on a beach. Thus far, Chris could determine only that the two were eccentric, but there was more to come. The taller of the two women delved into the bag and produced two objects wrapped in cloth. She handed one to her companion and they made their way to the clearing in the centre of the circle where they faced each other, a few feet apart. The objects, which they uncovered at the same time, appeared to Chris to be small orbs of glass, probably crystal, both emitting a pale blue glow. Chris had seen orbs like these. In fact he had found two of them during his investigation. They had been given to him by an elderly woman in a retirement home. She was mumbling about them being dangerous and that he should hide them. At the time he had dismissed her as being a senile old crone, but he was beginning to wish he had questioned her more about them. At least he had put them in a safe place.

The women began chanting words in unison that Chris couldn’t make out, but he assumed them to be an incantation of some sort. Within minutes, the two orbs began to glow and rays of blue light burst from the centre of each. He watched as the light formed an arc over the centre of the circle. It looked like an archway or a door of some sort. No sooner had the beams of light touched the ground than a mist arose in the area around their feet. Chris, being a true sceptic, thought to himself that any special effects artist worth his day’s pay would be capable of creating the same effect with a little dry ice and some clever lighting. He wondered how none of the cars passing on the motorway nearby took any notice of the beams of light that now formed the gateway. Perhaps the trees obscured the view. He made a mental note to check this from the road. Just as Chris was beginning to think that he was wasting his time with a couple of crackpots, he noticed a shape begin to materialise within the archway. At first it appeared as a thin sliver of darkness within the light. As the chanting continued, the dark sliver took on the shape of a person. Chris shuddered, feeling a sense of dread. He was all out of logical explanations for what was taking place in front of his eyes.

The shape continued to materialise. Chris had concentrated on the image for a while now and the mist in the air combined with the hazy figure caused him to think that perhaps he was simply tired and that his vision had become impaired as a result. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The dark figure was not only still there, but fully materialised now. To Chris, it looked like the Grim Reaper without the scythe. So many movies and books had portrayed this type of hooded figure that Chris was tempted to utter an Oh please!, but his sense of dread urged him to open his mind to what was occurring before him.

The two women were kneeling on the ground now, their heads bowed; muttering what were probably the closing words of the incantation. The dark figure reached out and extinguished the light emanating from each of the crystal orbs. The archway remained in place as if the energy was now being supplied by another force. Chris wished that he could get closer so that he could hear what was being said. The women were taking it in turns to explain something to the creature, as that was the term that Chris intended to use when writing the article for the newspaper. The women stood up, but he noticed that the larger, more rounded one had some trouble trying to get up off her knees. Once on their feet, they began calling out to some unknown person. At least Chris assumed that they were calling a person until the dark-haired woman put a whistle to her lips and blew. There was no sound, so Chris assumed it was a dog whistle. Suddenly the area came alive with foxes darting from hiding, heading towards the Stone Circle. One by one they entered the gateway and vanished. Chris was startled by a disturbance in the bush next to him. He turned to see a fox staring at him not more than four feet away, its yellow eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was paralysed with fear. His one instinct was to lash out and chase the animal away, but that would only serve to antagonise it. He and the fox stared at each other for what seemed like an age before it appeared to lose interest and dashed into the open towards the circle. Chris made a rough count of twenty-two foxes. The last straggler broke cover and was limping heavily. This fox was followed up by ten black crows that rose up, wraith-like in the air behind it. Some hopped along the ground behind the limping fox, while the rest beat the air with their wings as they hovered above. It seemed as if they were chasing the fox towards the circle, chivvying it along as it struggled to cover the distance. The crows uttered harsh squawks as if barking commands at the poor animal.

Chris now felt that he had entered some sort of fairy tale. Just as he was wondering how this tied up with the disappearance of people in the area, he noticed a boy on a bicycle approaching from the far end of the lake along the footpath. He recognised the rider as a young bar tender who worked at the two-for-one greasy spoon diner on the south lake, probably heading home after the restaurant had closed. The boy, blissfully unaware of the proceedings at the lake, slowed as he saw the two women together with the cloaked figure and the weirdly illuminated archway. He seemed to realise instantly that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He quickly turned the bike around, jammed his feet to the pedals and sped off in the opposite direction.

The two women and the creature became agitated. The larger fat one barked an order to the crows, which wheeled about en masse to fly after the fleeing cyclist like a dark, menacing canopy. The creature slowly raised a cloaked arm and Chris watched as a beast materialised from the ground itself, as if being dragged into existence. The beast resembled a Hyena, but larger. Its fur was dark and matted, the chest and back legs more powerful and the snout longer. It mewled and whined as it took in its surroundings, as if it had been awoken from a deep sleep. The hooded creature raised an arm in the direction that the cyclist had taken and the beast leapt forward, gathering speed as it headed off in pursuit.

They didn’t have to wait long before the beast returned; dragging the boy with its sizeable teeth sank into his shirt collar. He seemed to be unconscious. The crows brought up the rear with a cacophony of sound that chilled Chris to the bone. Slowly the two women raised the crystals above their heads, chanting as they did so. The beams of light converged and the women directed the beam at the boy. Surrounded by the strange light, the boy began to change shape, shrinking down to less than half his size. Slowly the boy’s body assumed the shape of a fox, lying on its side, legs twitching. As the transformation completed, the light vanished and the fox looked around, bewildered. Chris felt paralysed by what he had seen. ‘So this is how the missing people disappeared’, he thought. Too late he woke up to the realisation that he should take a picture as evidence of the proceedings and reached for the camera. The camera crew had set up the camera to simply point and shoot. He lined up the scene in the viewfinder and slowly pressed the button. He heard the click of the shutter, but wasn’t prepared for the blinding flash that followed, washing the area in a blue-white light. He cursed quietly, although he realised that keeping quiet now was futile. It occurred to him that he must have accidentally changed a setting—or the camera crew had thought it would be funny to take advantage of his inexperience by giving him the wrong camera. Either way, he knew he was no longer safe in his hiding place.

He didn’t wait to see whether the flash had been noticed by those within the circle, but dropped everything and sprinted for the underpass. He could fetch the camera in the morning. Reaching the brightly lit underpass gave him some relief, but he wasn’t sure that the mere absence of darkness would stop them from chasing him—and he had no doubt that they would be chasing him. He left the relative comfort of the underpass, forcing his legs to run faster as he rounded the corner, a short distance from the parking area and the safety of his car. Just as the car came into sight, Chris became aware of the beating of wings in the air around his head. The crows had reached him. They dived down at him one after the other, clawing at his head and pecking at him with their large beaks. He raised his arms over his head while running, trying to fend them off.

He was within striking distance of his car when he felt warm breath on the back of his neck. Whatever it was struck him with a tremendous force that threw him to the ground, pushing the air from his lungs. He tried to shout to anyone who might be within range, but the area was deserted and he couldn’t shout loud enough. He was powerless to move under the crushing weight of what he assumed to be the beast that had tracked down the cyclist. He felt the animal searching for a hold with its teeth, settling for his jacket collar. Its fetid breath was making him nauseous. He was dragged backwards towards the path and he knew he was being taken back to the stone circle to face the same fate as the boy. It occurred to him that he could slip out of his jacket and make another dash for the car. He freed first one arm and then the other, falling forward before scrabbling to his feet for another desperate attempt at escape. Immediately the beast was upon him again, hurling him to the ground. As he fell, Chris hit his head on the hard ground. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness was the snout of the beast nuzzling his neck, gripping his shirt collar to pull him back towards his inevitable fate.

He regained consciousness, hoping that he had dreamed the whole thing, but he was back at the lake, lying on his back in the middle of the stone circle. The two women (or witches, as he now thought of them) were standing in front of him, holding the crystal orbs above their heads as they delivered the same incantation he had heard them use earlier on the boy. He felt groggy and his forehead ached where it had hit the ground. He felt his body shrinking and was horrified to see hair sprouting from his hands as they disappeared before his eyes, turning into paws. He saw his nose extend into a snout and watched as his feet transformed into an animal’s hind legs. He tried to scream, to stop the madness, but it came out as a yelp rather than anything recognisable as speech. The fat woman was peering down at him.

There now. I’m sure you’ll be happy as one of our little team of foxes. You can join all your new friends now. I’m sure you realise that we have to do this. We wouldn’t want others to find out about our little secrets, now would we?

Chris could only hope that someone would find the letter he had hidden in his personal documents. There was also a possibility that his notebook and camera could be found by someone passing by. The thought gave him a glimmer of hope even though he knew that he no longer had any control over the situation.

He saw the lame fox sitting to one side with two others, watching the transformation taking place.

Oh stop moaning, said the fox. At least you have a new coat. It’s been months since we were infoxulated and we still haven’t learned to clean ourselves properly. Haha. Infoxulated. It’s our own word for this little gag of theirs. Pity we’ll never get credit for inventing the word. Just a little fox humour

It’s not so bad said another. They let us visit here regularly.

The younger fox said, Yes, thank God they abolished fox hunting . . . . and so the inane conversation continued until he could hear a high-pitched whistle that made him cringe. One by one the three remaining foxes ran through the archway of light and disappeared. The last one stopped, looking back at Chris: Well come on! Are you going to join us and be in a human body on the other side, or stay here and run around the bushes as a fox all day foraging for food and being chased away by anyone with a broom? The fox shrugged in irritation as if to say Huh! New guys!

Too confused and dazed to do anything else, Chris followed the rest, thinking to himself: Well at least I’m still alive. He ran into the archway, leaving all he knew behind him.

CHAPTER 2

A fox comes to visit

SIMON SAT AT his desk gazing at the trees beyond the garden wall. Two grey squirrels scampered from branch to branch at the top of the large Hawthorn tree, celebrating the fine weather with a game of tag. He had to focus his gaze in the fading light to follow their movements. Their antics were far more interesting than his coursework. He had been on holiday for a week, but had done nothing about starting the work. To be honest, he hadn’t come up with a single idea for the content. The class had been told to pick an animal to study, being careful not to interfere with its natural habitat in any way. The class had groaned in unison when Mrs Bunting, the Biology teacher, had given the class the wildlife assignment. It was the thought of having to give up precious time during their summer holidays that was so awful. Some of his classmates had chosen to go to Woburn Safari Park. Mrs Bunting had given this as an alternative to stalking animals through the undergrowth, but Simon knew that his Mom couldn’t afford to take him to the Safari Park. Since his Dad had disappeared, she had been struggling to keep them clothed and fed as well as keeping up the payments on the mortgage so they could carry on living in the house. His Mom worked in the Milton Keynes library, which suited her absent-minded nature. Simon knew that she tried hard to be a good Mom, but sometimes he felt that he was taking care of her rather than the other way around. This was more the case now since his Dad had left them. One day he had been a larger than life presence around the house and the next he had disappeared without a word to anyone. He had gone out one night and not come back. His car had been found at Willen Lake. Police had searched throughout the country and abroad, but had found no trace of him. Simon had a feeling that his Dad was still out there somewhere, but couldn’t help feeling that it might have been his fault in some way that his Dad had left them.

As Simon