The Power of Love kbaa-2
Page 14
"Wake up, Philip. It's Tristan. Wake up. I need your help. Ivy needs your help."
Tristan could hear Ella purring again and saw her face peering into his, though everything was blurry. He knew Philip was listening and waking up slowly.
"Come on, Philip. That's the way, buddy."
Philip was looking over at the angel statues now. He was wondering, but he was not afraid. His arms and legs still felt relaxed. So far, so good.
Then Tristan heard the noise in the hall. He heard footsteps — Gregory's — but Gregory was walking oddly, heavily.
"Get up, Philip! We have to see!"
Before Philip could rouse himself, Gregory was down the stairs. A moment later, an outside door banged.
"Put on your shoes. Your shoes!"
A car's engine sputtered. Tristan recognized it — Ivy's old Dodge. His heart sank. Gregory had Ivy with him. Where are you taking her? Where?
"I don't know," Philip said in a sleepy voice.
Think. What would be easy for him? Tristan said to himself.
"I don't know," Philip mumbled.
With Ivy drugged, it would be easy to stage an accident. What kind? How and where was he going to do it? There must have been clues in his room, a hint in the newspaper clippings.
Tristan suddenly remembered the train schedule. He recalled the strange look on Gregory's face when he found the timetable on the floor. Gregory had circled the late-night train, the one that stopped at Tusset. Then he had done some calculations, written down a time, and circled it twice. 2:04. That would be right — Tristan knew the train rushed through their station a few minutes after two each morning.
Rushed through! It didn't stop at small stations such as Stonehill's, which would be deserted after midnight. They had to stop him! ' He glanced at Philip's digital dock. 1:43 A.M.
"Philip, come on!"
The little boy was slumped down in the chair, with only one shoelace tied. His fingers were clumsy when he tried to tie the other one. He could barely stand up, and moved slowly down the hall with Tristan guiding him. Tristan chose the center staircase, where there was a railing to hang on to. They made it safely to the bottom, then Tristan guided him around to the back door, which Gregory had left open. As if he had a clock inside him, Tristan felt each second ticking away.
They'd never make it in time by foot; the long driveway down the ridge took them in the opposite direction from the station. Keys-could he find the keys for Gregory's car? If he did, he could materialize his fingers and— But what if they wasted all their time looking for keys that Gregory had with him?
"Other way, Philip." Tristan turned Philip around. It was a dangerous shortcut, but their only chance: the steep and rocky side of the ridge, which dropped to the station below.
After a couple of steps, the cool night air revived Philip. Through the boy's eyes and ears, Tristan became aware of the night's silvery shadows and rustling sounds. He too was feeling stronger. At Tristan's urging, Philip broke into a run across the grass. They raced past the tennis court, then forty yards more toward the boundary of the property, the edge where the land suddenly dropped off.
" They were moving faster than a child could have, their powers combined. Tristan didn't know how long his renewed strength would hold out, and he wasn't certain that he could get them safely down the steep side of the ridge. It seemed to have taken forever just to get this far.
He felt a moment of resistance as he and Philip climbed the stone wall marking the end of the property.
"I'm not supposed to," Philip said.
"It's okay, you're with me."
Far below them he could see the train station. To get to it they'd have to climb down a hillside where the only toeholds were the roots of a few dwarfed trees and some narrow ledges of stone, with sheer drops beneath them. Occasionally patches of brush broke through the rocky surface, but mostly it was rutted earth with a cascade of tumbled rocks that would roll at the lightest touch of a foot.
"I'm not scared," Philip said.
"I'm glad that one of us isn't."
They picked their way slowly and carefully down the ridge. The moon had come up late and its shadows were long and confusing. Tristan had to continually check himself, reminding himself that the legs he was using were shorter, the arms unable to reach as far.
They were halfway down when he misjudged. Their jump was too short, and they leaned out too far from a narrow strip of rock. From their ledge, it was a straight drop down twenty-five feet, with nothing but stones to snag them at the bottom before another drop. They teetered. Tristan drew into himself, cloaking his thoughts and instincts, letting Philip cake over. It was Philip's natural sense of balance that saved them.
As they descended, Tristan tried not to think about Ivy, though the image of her head hanging over her shoulder like a limp doll's kept passing through his mind. And all the while he was aware of time ticking away.
"What is it?" Philip asked, sensing Tristan's concern.
"Keep going. Tell you later."
Tristan couldn't let Philip know how much danger Ivy was in. He cloaked certain thoughts, hiding from Philip's consciousness both Gregory's identity and his intentions. He wasn't sure how Philip would handle the information, whether he'd panic over Ivy or even try to defend Gregory.
They were at the bottom now, racing through the tall grass and weeds, getting tripped up by rocks.
Philip's ankle twisted, but he kept going. Ahead of them was a high wire fence. Through it they saw the station.
The station had two tracks side by side, northbound and southbound, each with its own platform. The platforms were connected by a high bridge over the tracks. On the southbound side, which was farthest from Philip and Tristan, there was a wooden station house and a parking lot. Tristan knew that the latenight train ran southbound.
Just as they reached the fence Tristan heard the bells of a town church, tolling once, twice. Two o'clock.
"The fence is awfully high, Tristan."
"At least it's not electric."
"Can we rest?"
Before Tristan could answer, a train whistle sounded in the distance.
"Philip, we have to beat the train!"
"Why?"
"We have to. Climb!"
Philip did, digging his toes into the holes of the wire mesh, stretching and grasping with his fingers, pulling himself up. They were at the top of the fence, twenty feet high. Then Philip jumped. They slammed into the ground and rolled.
"Philip!"
"I thought you had wings. You're supposed to have wings."
"Well, you don't!" Tristan reminded him.
The whistle blew again, closer this time. They ran for the first platform. When they climbed up on it, they could see across the station.
Ivy.
"Something's wrong with her," Philip said.
She was standing on the southbound platform, leaning back against a pillar chat was at the edge of the platform. Her head was hanging to one side.
"She could fall! Tristan, a train's coming and—" Philip began to shout. "Ivy! Ivy!"
She didn't hear him.
"The steps," Tristan told him.
They raced for them, then across the bridge and down the other side.
They could hear the train rumbling, getting closer. Philip kept calling to her, but Ivy stared across the crack, mesmerized. Tristan followed her gaze — then he and Philip froze.
"Tristan? Tristan, where are you?" Philip asked in a panicky voice.
"Here. Right here. I'm still inside you."
But even to Tristan it looked as if he were out there, on the other side of the track. Tristan stared at the image of himself that stood in the shadows of the northbound platform. The strange figure was dressed in a school jacket, like the one Tristan wore in his photograph, and had an old baseball cap pulled on backward. Tristan stared, as entranced by the figure as Ivy and Philip.
"That's not me," he told Philip. "Don't be fooled. It's someone else dressed lik
e me." Gregory, he said to himself.
"Who is it? Why's he dressed like you?" They saw a pale hand move out of the shadows into the clear moonlight. The figure beckoned to Ivy, encouraging her, drawing her across the track.
The train was rushing toward them now, its headlight whitening the track beneath them, its whistle blasting in a final warning.
Ivy paid no attention to it. She was drawn to the hand like a moth to a flickering fire. It kept reaching out to her. She suddenly reached out her own hand and took a step forward.
"Ivy!" Tristan shouted — Philip shouted. "Ivy! Ivy, don't!"
FB2 document info
Document ID: ooofbtools-2011-5-18-17-28-21-186
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 18.05.2011
Created using: ExportToFB21, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
ed hurdee
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/