The rain returned by the time Tina pulled into the curving driveway leading to the Brayleys. She grabbed her sample case and dashed for the front door. Kathy, bent over in the classic stomach-cramp position, let her inside. Tina placed a hand on her brow, assessing her patient. A low fever, pale and clammy skin. “You okay?”
Kathy nodded. “This is nothing, compared to yesterday.” She bit her lip. “I'm glad you came, though. Come outside and see this.”
Tina followed her through the house to the kitchen door. Kathy threw on a slicker and led her out, past rows of herbs. Halfway into the garden, she paused and gestured. “I haven't been out here since we got sick, three days ago, but I came out after you called this morning. That's the plant I harvested the leaves from.”
“But it's dead.” Tina moved to the chard, staring at the brown, limp leaves on the ground, then bending in astonishment to examine the purple streaks covering them.
“Don't touch it!” Kathy grabbed Tina's shoulder, her grip strong despite her illness. Tina stood.
“I won't. But I will get a sample.” Her eyes moved over the garden, noticing the same distressed appearance of several nearby plants. “Are you saying it wasn't like this before?”
“No, it was all fine, three days ago. I would never have pulled leaves from a plant looking like that. What could it be?”
Tina shook her head, then turned as Kathy sank onto a large rock, her hands over her face. “What if it's in everything? In all the soil? The water? You said you found something, but you don't know what it is.”
Tina knelt in front of her. “I said I didn't recognize it, but that doesn't mean much. I'm not a microbiologist. It just means we have something a little out of the ordinary. But it's not necessarily dangerous. You're nearly over this already.”
Kathy stared past Tina, her gaze despairing. “But look what it did to the plants. What if it's still in us? What if the diarrhea was just the first stage?”
“Hey.” Tina gripped Kathy's shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “Don't freak yourself out over it. I'll get samples and send them to Portland. We'll keep a close watch on all of you. For now, don't eat any more from the garden, even when you're back to solid food. Not even your herbs. Do you have bottled water?” At Kathy's nod, she went on. “Use that for everything, even brushing your teeth. You might boil some water for washing your hands, or let it sit with a teaspoon of chlorine bleach in it. I'll take samples from the creek, too, and from your tap. We'll figure it out. Is there anyone who can stay with you to help out?”
“My sister's been by a few times. Maybe we should go stay with her.” Kathy stood, her hands trembling. “How long will it take to get information back?”
“A few days, probably. Maybe a week.”
Kathy sighed, but nodded. “I'll call her and see what we can do.”
“Good. I'll get samples out here, then I’ll come inside.”
Kathy limped back to the house. Tina watched her a moment, then made a slow turn, her eyes straying past the garden to the forest beyond. There was something… a scent, perhaps? It brought the memory of Clive's body on hers, the taste of his mouth. Her lips quirked, but then she frowned, hearing the splash of rain falling on the creek at the edge of the forest.
She turned her attention to the garden, taking in the distressed plants, narrowing her eyes at the soil. The plants should have been standing straight, swaying under the rain, bright green in the mild winter weather. But this garden was sick with something that left purple streaks and grew in a vicious colony in her petri dishes.
Tina shivered. Was it contained to just the Brayleys garden? Was it in the creek? She watched the rain, rivulets of water running along the ground, soaking into the soft soil. Whatever was here could be carried away to contaminate the entire forest. She'd have to make some phone calls.
Chapter 5
The rain fell in heavy drops, causing the portal to shimmer with broken static. Descending darkness gave the impression of lateness, but Clive's strap informed him it was just two in the afternoon as he stepped through the portal into Kaarmanesh. He sighed.
He always sighed when he entered this realm, an involuntary reaction to something he couldn’t name. The climate was similar to the Flatlands. The air was fresher, with less carbon dioxide. They didn't have the industry and automobiles that poured pollutants into the atmosphere, and they had more trees. But Clive didn't think his sigh was a result of that.
It had more to do with the change in feeling, a release that was almost sexual, but without the intensity. He didn't feel freer in Kaarmanesh. Clive didn't feel free anywhere. But he felt easier, knowing that he was recognized for what he was, and that the folk here took their own precautions against him. He didn't have to bear the burden alone.
Forest surrounded him here too, with the welcome addition of hundreds of shades of magic. They appeared as subtle contours rising and falling everywhere he looked, although they extended through all the senses, not just sight. It was the way of Kaarmanesh and as natural to him as breathing. The absence of these contours in the other world is what gave the Flatlands its name.
He stood with quiet ease, alert to any danger. Signs of all the recent traffic were apparent here as well, but there was no indication anyone had been by in the last couple of days. Clive settled his backpack into place and began the walk into town.
The village of Poentreville was busy, despite the rain. The path from the forest took Clive past a few homes on the outskirts of town, their gardens green with winter vegetables in the mild northwest climate. The houses gave way to shops: a healer and apothecary, no doubt the province of a witch who grew herbs at one of the houses he had just passed, another shop selling furniture, an emporium, and a cafe. A tavern stood halfway down the street. Clive headed there, pausing to allow a female elf lead her brood of youngsters into a store before he stepped onto the walkway. She nodded her thanks, but kept her children away from him. A few goblins were gossiping outside the furniture store. Clive watched them, trying to remain unobtrusive. They returned his look with disinterested politeness, and he nodded as he continued past them. None of these had been through the portal in any recent time.
He was a block from the tavern when he spotted the nymph. She was outside leaning against the wall of the tavern, eyeing him with calculated consideration. Sizing him up as a potential customer, no doubt. He kept his interest to the fading shimmer of portal magic around her. She smiled when she saw him looking, and turned to show off a shapely leg, clad in black tights, and ran her hand down her thigh.
“Cold day for traveling, isn't it?” she said as he approached. “Perhaps I can help warm you up.”
He smiled at her with regret. “I couldn't do you justice, dear. Not after the night I've just had.”
“Oh, a challenge.” She stepped closer and stood on tiptoe to breathe a soft howl into his ear. Her smile was teasing. “I know how to please a werewolf. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
He wasn’t tempted at all, but he smiled down at her and played the game. “Like it kinky, do you?”
“Maybe I do. Let me show you.”
“Do you like it Flatland kinky? I can see portal magic all over you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You with Portal Enforcement?”
He shrugged. “Let’s just say I have an interest.”
“I admit I went looking a few days ago,” she said. “There’s no law says I can’t go through. I thought it might be fun.”
“Was it?”
“Not really. It's too flat over there. I never made it to town.”
“Did you notice anything strange in the forest while you were over there? Did you run into any others from here, or notice traces of others?”
She shook her head and leaned against the building, arms crossed in front of her. “I don't know what you mean. It's all strange over there, without any magic.”
Her aura flickered in that tell-tale way he always noticed when people lied to him. It was one reason he was
good at his job.
He tilted his head toward the tavern. “I’ll be here for the night. Let me know if you think of anything.”
“Sure,” she said.
He was thoughtful as he entered the tavern, but took a minute to look it over. The main room was a bar and restaurant, ten tables of various sizes scattered around. The bar was on the far side, well-stocked with bottles, stools pulled up to the counter. Two Montarian elves sat at the bar, both of them tall and graceful, both male. They didn't look up as he came in, but the four men—all witches—playing chess at a corner table, returned his gaze with their own curiosity. No one here had been through the portal.
Clive made his way to the bar, dropping his backpack at his feet. “I need a room, if you have one.”
The barkeep tossed a ledger in Clive's direction. “Sign in,” he said, turning to fish through the keys in a cabinet behind him. “You can stay a couple of nights, if you need to, but I'll want you on your way, then. No offense, sir.” His eyes were wary as he faced Clive. “Just makes people nervous, you know.”
“I expect to be on my way by tomorrow. But just out of curiosity, has there been another werewolf through here?”
The barkeep shook his head. “Not in these parts. They're not encouraged and they've learned to stay away, mostly.”
That was the truth.
Clive couldn't help feeling a little down as he tossed his pack into the room a few minutes later. They're not encouraged.
Screw it, he thought. I've got work to do. So he went back downstairs, took another look around the bar, and headed outside into the rain.
Poentreville was large as villages went, and Clive continued through town toward the sheriff’s office. He noted the nymph was no longer leaning against the tavern wall. Had she found a client? Or gone to report his presence to her boss?
He was required to report to the sheriff whenever he entered a new area. The requirement was professional, as one lawman to another. It was also a legality—all werewolves had to report their presence and itinerary.
As he walked past an alleyway, he spotted a movement to his side. He turned in time to see a goblin in a green jacket disappear between two buildings. He caught a glimpse of portal magic—this was one of his targets. The sheriff would have to wait. Clive raced down the alley, reaching the intersecction just a few seconds behind the goblin.
A whirling wind of fur, teeth, and claws came at him from every direction. He couldn’t see anything beyond a blur, but he put it at three goblins in a coordinated attack. The smell alone made it nearly impossible to fight them. And these goblins wore steel-toed boots that delivered hard kicks to his stomach and groin, forcing him to his knees.
He managed to throw off one of his attackers, hearing him land with a crunch against a wall. That left two. He got an arm around one and clamped his teeth onto an ear. The screech this produced made his own ears ring, but he held on until the second goblin jabbed something into his neck. Keeping his teeth clamped against a yell of pain, he dropped the goblin he held to reach for the object. The part of the ear in his mouth separated from the rest of the goblin, who ran off, green blood coating Clive's jacket. He spat the ear out and swung the stick he'd pulled from his neck, connecting with the stomach of the remaining goblin. The body of the first one was not where it had fallen, Clive noticed. Damn, he must have already run off. Clive got a handful of the last goblin's neck in his fist, and jerked. He wanted this one.
The obnoxious fellow had other ideas. He jumped into a back flip, his boot connecting with Clive's face on his way over. Clive fell back, blinded, letting the goblin escape. He followed, still half-blinded, jumping over a pile of boxes scattered in his path, and shoving away from a wall as he swayed off-balance against it.
The goblin tripped, and with a great lunge, Clive threw himself across the alley. He snatched onto a wad of hair, pulling the goblin onto his back, and landed right on top of the creature's face. He scrambled up before any teeth got into him, flipped his captive over, and forced the goblin's hands behind his back, muttering the charm that fastened handcuffs around them.
The goblin's ear-splitting screech was one continuous wail, and people were beginning to gather at the end of the alley in clusters that lingered a moment before moving out of sight. Clive ignored them.
He delivered a swift blow to the goblin's head.
“Shut up!” The screech cut off, and in the sudden silence, Clive leaned forward to shout in his ear. “You have a lot to tell me, Mister. Start with who you are.”
The answer was a growl. He moved off the goblin and lifted him to his feet. “Fine. We'll continue this at the sheriff's.”
If the goblin, whose head just brushed Clive's waist, had plans to resist, he never had a chance. Clive's quick steps forced him to run just to keep from being dragged. Clive kept an arm tucked through the goblin's as they emerged onto the street. People stayed back, but their stares were wary. Their mutters reached him, causing him some concern they would interfere. Someone had already called for the sheriff, and Clive stopped as she strode down the sidewalk toward him with swift and deliberate steps.
Her green slicker was open, revealing long legs clad in blue jeans, and a white button-down shirt that displayed her badge on her left breast. Her hair was a damp blonde braid, and blue eyes snapped as she looked up the single inch she needed to glare into his eyes. “Who the hell are you, and what is going on here?” she demanded.
He removed the strap from his wrist and flipped it in front of her face. “Clive Winslow. Portal Enforcement. This goblin is wanted for questioning.”
She ignored the squirming goblin as she took Clive’s strap and examined the ID it displayed. When she tossed it back, her eyes were not any friendlier. “Bring him in. You can use my office.” One hand shooed Clive on down the street as she stepped around him to deal with the crowd. “It's under control, folks. Be on your way.”
With a jerk on the goblin's arm, Clive continued down the street. His captive was panting by the time Clive threw him into a chair in front of the constable's desk, snapping the handcuffs to a long chain pegged to the floor. He pulled up another chair and straddled it, hands dangling over the edge. Blood oozed from the puncture wound in his neck, itching where it met his collar. He ignored it.
His voice was soft. “Name?”
The goblin tightened his thick green lips and shifted his eyes away to study the desk. Clive lifted a hand, fingers spread in a claw-like shape. He growled once, a low rumble in his chest.
The goblin's eyes snapped back to Clive's face. He sneered, but licked his lips before he spoke. “I don't have to tell you anything. Go ahead and put me away.”
“Think you'll be safe in jail?” Clive asked. “Because I don't. I think your boss will get to you quite easily.”
“Yeah. To get me out.”
“That true? In how many pieces?”
The goblin snorted, but his eyelids flitted in nervous jerks as he gazed around the room. The sheriff arrived and flung her slicker onto the coat rack by the door. Hands on her hips, she surveyed her guests. Clive didn't think she was happy to have either one of them in her office.
The goblin decided to try the hometown advantage. “You know I ain't done anything, Sheriff Nancy. This guy's got no charge against me. Make him let me go.”
Nancy pursed her lips in mild amusement. “Sorry, Magger. He's Portal Enforcement. He can do anything he wants.”
Clive wished that were true, but he didn't bother to correct her. “So Maggot, why you don't you start by telling me your business in the Flatlands.”
“That's Magger. And I was just lookin' around.”
“You didn't report to the Portal Keeper.”
“Wasn't there that long.”
Clive lunged from the chair, ignoring Magger's screech as he pulled the stinking form toward him. Magger's eyes bulged as the chain wrenched his arms behind him. “I don't believe there's a time limit on that restriction,” Clive said.
Magg
er moaned, his back arching to relieve the pressure on his shoulders and wrists. “I just looked around,” he said between gasps of pain. “Then I came back. I swear.”
Clive threw him back in the chair. “You do any honest work, Maggot?”
The goblin's eyes shifted to the sheriff, who was sliding into her chair behind the desk. She shrugged. “May as well tell him. It's easy enough to find out.”
Magger glanced back at Clive, a tic jerking his chin. Then a smile touched his puffy lips. His eyes glinted cold and predatory. “I'm a trapper.” He leaned toward Clive. “Good money in it, especially for the female hides. Tawny fetches the best price.”
Werewolf hides. Clive stood, pulling out a handkerchief to hold against the blood oozing from his neck, buying time to keep himself in control. Amid the goblin's gloating hate and the sheriff's amused disdain, he felt a strange moment of peace, flashing back to the brief moment of waking that morning with Tina in his arms. He blinked the vision away.
“I'm taking him in,” he told the sheriff, tossing his strap onto her desk. “Put your verification code in there, and hang on to him while I get my bag from the inn.”
Magger screeched a protest at these words, but Sheriff Nancy ignored him as she entered her code and tossed the strap back to Clive. Her eyes fixed on his neck. “Was there more than one of 'em?”
“Two others,” Clive said as he headed for the door. “You find 'em, you arrest 'em and call me.” He turned back just before he stepped into the street. “Oh, and your portal's under indictment until further notice. See to it.”
Chapter 6
Damien Fontaine slipped with relaxed carelessness through the Oregon forest, unconcerned with danger. He had no need to be cautious. What could hurt him here?
He stopped when he reached a trail, one big enough for vehicles to use. He sniffed the air. A trace more caution settled over his shoulders as he took in both directions of the road. Someone had used it today. He turned in the direction of the road's upward climb into the forest. In that direction was the Keeper's house, and who in this world had business with the Keeper?
Worlds Apart Page 4
