by Mark Eller
"Do you love her?" Field asked Aaron.
"No." Felicity was his friend, nothing more but also nothing less.
"Too bad. This would have been more satisfying if you did."
Raising the automatic, he laughed and fired again.
Felicity gasped and fell in a twisting heap while Saundra chortled and twirled and sprayed blood across the room. Field grimaced when some of the blood splattered him. With a quick slice of his hand, he struck Saundra's wounded face with the gun barrel when she came between him and Aaron. Staggering to the side, Saundra fell onto the couch.
"You sick bitch," Field snapped. "Stay there until I'm finished."
Snake-fast, Saundra reached out to grab the N'Aark zoo paperweight from the couch table. Lifting the souvenir, she pressed it to her face so hard that her skin whitened. She seemed calmer now, more controlled. She smiled gently through the smear of blood, not seeming to mind the hole in her cheek or the teeth that had been smashed out of her mouth.
"Sorry," she said awkwardly. Air bubbled out of the hole in her face. "I'll behave."
Ignoring orders, she rose from the couch and sauntered over to Aaron.
On the floor, Felicity groaned and shifted.
Field shot her a second time.
Felicity's head bounced once, and then she stilled. The back of her shirt turned red. Blood welled from her skull.
Waves of nausea and grief washed through Aaron. With his Talent, he could flick out of here in an instant. Field could not stop him. Field had used up his hostage on a stupid whim.
Only Aaron could not run, not when Kit and the children could also be endangered. Field was a bulldog. He would never give up.
"What do you want?" Aaron demanded.
"Money," Field said. "I want all the money you have hidden away here."
"This isn't my home so there's no hidden money," Aaron lied. "You just shot the owner." Gods, Felicity. Gods, I'm so sorry.
"Too bad," Saundra slurred.
Thunder struck against the side of Aaron's head. He staggered to the side, straightened his legs, and she struck him again. His eyes crossed until he saw double images, until he saw Saundra raise the paperweight high, and then he was on the floor with her leaning over him. Moments later she straightened with Aaron's neck cord and pouch in her hand. "I got his Stone!" she cried through her bleeding mouth. "He's safe now."
No, he isn't, Aaron thought. The Talent Stone was still well within his range, because she stood no more than four feet from him, close enough to maintain the bond: close enough so the Stone would not destroy itself.
Reaching out to the Stone, he tried to image where he would send her and Field, but it was difficult to do so without closing his eyes. Hopeless, because even if he did transport Field and Saundra Clarice, Aaron would have to go along, and Field would still have his gun.
His head hurt too much. He could not form a firm image even to save himself.
Field calmly walked deeper into the room until he stood beside the couch. After setting his gun on the couch's arm, he reached behind his back to pull a second gun from his waistband. "Don't worry about the noise. I checked the other apartments. No one else is home. In fact, this is the emptiest set of apartments I ever saw." Raising the new gun, he fired.
Aaron's chest seemed to shatter with the impact. Twisting in pain, his heart stuttered beneath the shock, firmed, and began beating steadily again. Looking down at his chest, he saw no blood. His mind swam, and he could barely breathe. His eyes tried to roll up into his head. His mind wanted to escape but--
Movement. Beyond Felicity's still form, Zisst's body trembled, shook.
"Rubber bullets," Field explained while wiggling his weapon tauntingly. His voice seemed to come from a far distance. "Every bullet in this clip. Don't want to kill you before I get my money. Just want to hurt you a little. Saundra, he's softened enough. Put the paperweight down."
Blood dripping from her face, Saundra swung.
Crunk
"Gaaah." Aaron's hands and arms flew up to protectively cradle his head. His eyes refused to focus.
"Saundra! I want him alive! Stop hitting him!"
"He's my toy," Saundra snapped, and she struck Aaron's shoulder so hard that it instantly turned numb.
"I said stop hitting him."
"I don't want to play by your rules anymore. You don't do it right. You stand off there and think it's good to shoot him with that thing, and it isn't right. It just isn't right. Something like this--you have to put your hands on him. You have to feel the damage being done. You have to tear the skin free."
Aaron's vision began to clear. Looking up, he saw that Saundra's eyes were glazed, crazed. Blood bubbled out of her mouth with every word. More blood poured out of the hole in her cheek. Her face and neck and shirt were drenched in red, but she didn't seem to notice. Her face was alight, joyous--a terrible thing to see.
Using his left hand, Field picked up the gun he had earlier set down. He pointed it at Saundra while keeping a careful watch on Aaron. Aaron made sure that his eyes remained open. Though the gun now pointed at Saundra, Field could change aim and fire long before Aaron had time to transfer.
Taking a chance, Aaron shifted his eyes to the side and saw that Zisst was back on its feet. Its fur was red-coated, but Zisst did not bleed fresh blood. No, much of the blood coating its fur belonged to Felicity Stromberg because the animal's teeth were fastened into her arm. Sinking its teeth deeper, Zisst's throat moved spastically.
Sickened, Aaron looked back toward Field, but he could not resist a need to know. Turning his gaze once more on the animal, he saw that Zisst had released its hold. The animal looked different, visibly changing as it slowly staggered toward Saundra and General Field. Zisst's head became flatter, and its ears disappeared.
"I want to cut something off Turner," Saundra said with a slurred voice. She spat out blood. "His ears, maybe a couple feet of skin. Before I'm done, he'll tell me where the money is. Remember, you made me a promise." Her bleeding mouth turned down. "Don't point that at me. I don't like it even if it is the one shooting rubber."
"Saundra," Field said warningly.
She took a step toward Field, the paperweight in her hand rising.
"I'm tired of you," she said. "It's time to make you go away."
Field fired. Saundra staggered back a step, and then her wide eyes looked toward Field while her hand shoved the paperweight over the new hole in her belly, and she sank to her knees. Turning her eyes toward Aaron, she gave him a bloody-faced, broken-toothed grin, and then looked back to Field.
"Gods," she whispered. "This feels better than shitting out a baby. Do it again."
"Sick," Field muttered and fired once more.
A small hole appeared at the center of Saundra's forehead. Blood and bone spewed out of the back, spraying a red mist several feet behind her. Saundra's body stiffened and then collapsed to the floor, leaking blood and brains onto Aaron's carpet. Her hand opened, and the bloody paperweight rolled free.
Field pointed his right hand gun at Aaron again. "Never did trust the stupid bitch."
Aaron's head throbbed, but the splitting pain had eased. Flicking his eyes to the side once again, he saw Zisst take one more weak step. The animal's mouth cracked open, showing a set of newly grown fangs.
"You owe me," Field said in a low voice. "I fed you, and I raised you, and I paid hundreds of thousands for your operations. How did you repay me? You betrayed me. You took everything and then ran away. I counted on you and Klein to bring me here, counted on both of you to make me an emperor. Instead, you both left me, the government caught me, and I had to use untested machinery to transport myself over after escaping."
He gestured toward his face with one gun holding hand. "Look what it did to me. Look what that machine did to me." His voice firmed. "You're going to sign everything you own over before you die."
Zisst was almost at Field's feet. He staggered, fell, and slowly rose again.
Aaron rolled t
o his side, to his belly. Placing one hand on the floor, he started rising to his knees.
Mouth firm, Field shot Aaron again.
"Gaaagh." Pain lanced through his wrist when the rubber bullet struck. Bone snapped, and he fell to his face.
Dropping one gun to the carpet, Field strode forward, leaned down, and grabbed Aaron's hair. Jerking Aaron's head back, Field stared in his face.
"I warned you about the eyes, Don't hide them from me."
Field's move took him further from Zisst, but the animal walked more firmly as it followed Field's movements. Zisst's body rippled, changed, and then it shook itself, straightened. Looking almost healthy except for the blood smearing its coat, it appeared nothing like the comical pet Aaron knew. Instead, he looked at something deadly.
His gaze gave Zisst away. Field's head twisted. "Shit, thought I'd killed you."
The gun swung around, centered on Zisst's forehead. Aaron started to lunge--
"What's going on here?" Sargent Crowley stood framed in a flung open doorway, a bare sword held in his hand.
Spinning on his heels, Field fired. Crowley grunted and staggered forward, exposing Larns behind him.
Larns' head snapped back when a bullet struck her forehead. She fell.
Aaron lunged. Head pounding and stomach lurching, he lunged as Field twisted back around. The gun swung with the man's gaze, and Aaron's legs failed him; his lunge fell short and--
Field screamed.
Field arched his head back, screamed to the ceiling, and fell to his knees with Zisst's teeth clamped firmly into his calf. Frantic, Field repeatedly struck out with his gun, striking Zisst again and again. Mewling, Zisst held on until Field's flailing hand finally slammed the gun into its head and knocked it away. Even then Zisst had not released its hold. Cloth, skin, and meat ripped free of Field's leg, leaving behind a wound that bubbled and steamed.
Dropping his gun, Field shrieked as he beat and beat and beat at the gaping hole with both hands. The bubbling flesh spewed out steam and fetid odors as Aaron rose to his feet to stagger toward the tortured man.
Just as Aaron reached him, Field stopped screaming, fell to his side, and curled in upon himself. His fading eyes fastened on Aaron.
And then he lay still.
"Purddderlllert." Zisst came to nuzzle Aaron's good hand before moving away to lick at its wounds.
"This incident might clear up several questions," Crowley said in a subdued voice while rubbing his chest where he had been shot. He looked at the fallen weapon that lay near Field's hand. "You know, after seeing what your weapon did to that door during the raid, I expected a 'gun' to be a bit more effective in a fight. Got to tell you, I'm not impressed by the results."
Behind him, Larns rose to her feet, a bruise already forming on her forehead. She seemed dazed, disoriented, but alive.
Looking at her, Aaron realized that the gun Field had earlier tossed aside had been the one holding bullets. Both agents had been struck by rubber.
"Mister Turner, you aren't wearing any clothes," Crowley noted. "Are you paying your debt to my dear Faith for the tearing away of her clothing?"
"Shut up," Larns snapped, but her heart did not seem to be in it.
"Perdit," Zisst said sadly while nosing Felicity's body. All obvious signs of its wounds had disappeared, but its fur was still covered with blood. "Perdit."
Shaking his head, Crowley walked over toward the pair. "I think this one's gone. Too bad."
"Perdit," Zisst said again.
Aaron's wrist would not straighten.--definitely broken. "I know," he said. He wasn't sure which of them he answered. Zisst nuzzled its face against Felicity's still body, mewling plaintively.
"I know," Aaron said again, and this time he did know. He walked over to Zisst, knelt down beside it, and rested a gentle hand on the animal's back. Felicity's face appeared composed.
Another innocent life gone.
His fault.
Again.
Felicity groaned so faintly the sound was almost a sigh. Her eyelids flickered.
"Perdeet," Zisst said again, looking both satisfied and proud.
Eyelids flickered one more time and closed, but Felicity's chest rose with faint breathing.
"By the Gods," Crowley said in awe. "The gal still lives."
And Aaron, knees planted into the floor, raised his face to the heavens.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."
"Perdeet."
Chapter 31
The rolling hills of Telven were snow-washed in white. The fields were hidden, buried and waiting. The air was bitter and biting, but Aaron did not mind. Of late he had not felt much.
The snow was hard-crusted but not so hard that his steps did not break through when he walked into the village and stopped to scratch at the headman's door. Moments later the door opened.
"We expected you weeks ago," Jerkak said.
"I'm here now," Aaron answered. He did not explain that two months had passed before his head and mind had healed sufficiently for him to use his Talent once again. During that time, he and Felicity had roomed together. Their period of mutual healing and been both personal and intense. While he had helped her gain greater awareness of herself, Felicity had convinced him that evil would happen whether or not Aaron Turner was around. It was not Aaron's job or responsibility to purge the world of all evil. He was only responsible for his own actions, and for those causes he chose to pursue.
"Is she here?" Aaron asked Jerkak.
"She is dressing for the cold," Jerkak answered. "She says your words to one another need to be private. Tell me of my spiritual daughter. Does she still live?"
"For now. Heralda is stirring up a great many people."
Truthfully, she was doing much more than that. Heralda had been so outspoken in her religious views that the church demanded she be hung for the sin of blasphemy despite its official stance on tolerance for Clan beliefs. She would have been hung, too, if she was not so obviously in touch with something beyond the norm. During the months of Aaron's convalescence, she had used her phenomenal charisma and ability at healing to pull dozens of influential people to her cause. Although they publicly rejected her claims of the One God, they were wise enough to protect someone who could save their lives if the need arose. Her words, they reasoned, could be ignored, because her abilities were nothing more than Talent.
Aaron knew differently. He had denied her request to heal his wounds because some price had to be paid for his mistakes. Even so, he did have Heralda tested for Talent. The results showed she and Amanda Bivins had at least one thing in common--they were both nulls.
And yet Heralda could heal.
With that discovery, Aaron made a number of personal changes. He prayed more frequently. He sent his prayers to the Lady and Her Lord and to the One God. He went to services more frequently, too. The last service he attended had been to stand as best man while Faith Larns became Faith Crowley. He was not sure which of the participants looked more surprised, but by the end of the ceremony Crowley's expression had been pure shock. Faith looked as if she were about to wipe cream from her lips.
More than one person had worn a shocked expression that day. Bronson's face had been a study of disbelief when Heidi O'Malley laid her head against his shoulder during the service.
"I'm ready." Cathy moved past Jerkak and brushed against Aaron as she walked out into the cold. "Let's go. We need to talk."
Cathy led the way to one of the longhouses, opened the door, and motioned him inside. She entered behind him and shut the door.
"Since I already asked that we not see each other again, we need to make this quick."
Aaron studied her. Cathy's face was pale and set, her eyes warm and pained. She was not worn, but some part of her youthful freshness was forever gone.
"Is teaching important to you?" Aaron asked.
Cathy seemed taken aback by the unexpected topic. "It's important because it will help the clans meet Isabella on an equal footing. I
can't say I enjoy doing it. It's a duty--and I suppose--repentance."
Aaron did not understand her need for repentance, but he easily understood the underlying need that set her to this task. Sometimes a person did things because that was the only way they could live with themselves. He was about to embark on one of those missions. The Turner Houses were important and needed, and yet he had grown complacent with them. He'd stopped forming new Houses when the last one in N'Ark had been completed. At that time he had also stopped taking an active interest in their running. His lack of attention had caused an untold amount of misery--and in this he really was to blame. Other people had caused the harm, but he had ignored his responsibility. It was not unwarranted self-flagellation to admit that he really had failed. For the next several years he would dedicate himself to making amends.
"I've done something," Aaron said. "Come spring, around sixty trained teachers will arrive in First Chance. I want you to place and supervise them." He held up his hand to silence her. "You don't have to do it. I can always hire somebody else."
"I'll do it," Cathy said, "but that isn't why we are here. Mister Turner, we're not supposed to have met again. It won't work between us."
"It will in time," Aaron said. With trembling fingers he reached into his pocket, pulled out a wrapped package, and placed it into Cathy's hand. "This is a Talent Stone. I brought one over from Jefferson just for you, but I was too small and vindictive to let you have it after finding out you had--you know."
He pressed his lips tight. Some moments were still too painful to remember.
"Cathy," he finally said, "all you have to do is unwrap it, and the Stone will bond to you. You--you are married now, but we'll both outlive him if you have a Stone. You'll age so much slower than he that you'll still be a young woman when he dies. You'll be single then, and we can--."
She shook her head.
"Mister Turner--Aaron--I can't do it. You see, I've learned too well from your example. I am Mistress Cathy Haig. I made a decision; I married that man, and he is my husband. To take this, to use it, means that I intend to be unfaithful to him, that I'm waiting for him to die so another man, already chosen, can be his replacement."
