“That's some bedside manner you have, Doc.” Tina uttered a shaky laugh. “Yes, go ahead with the examination. I'm curious to see how you do it.” She suppressed a shiver, concentrating on the warmth spreading through her from Shandari's hand.
Shandari smiled and nodded. Her expression grew unfocused, and Tina gasped as the shimmer in Shandari's eyes brightened sharply, as if a tiny star had exploded. Tina was afraid to move as that gaze drifted along her body, starting with her head and moving down, along each arm, her torso, legs, and feet. Shandari's hands followed her eyes, brushing soft strokes over Tina as she examined her. She spent several minutes hovering over Tina’s abdomen. That comforting warmth continued to emanate from her hands, and Tina allowed herself to relax.
Shandari placed her hands in her lap, and the shimmer in her eyes receded into her pupils. She sighed, and when she looked at Tina, her gaze was normal once again. She touched Tina's hand. “You will have to correct any misconceptions I have about Flatlanders, if you feel I am in error. But here is what I See: your fetus is a male of eleven weeks gestation. His aura is one I have never seen, but I believe he is in good health. He has the werewolf mutation, which is obvious to anyone. But he also carries an antibody that appears to prevent the mutation from activating. I say appears to because I am not certain how it works. I've never heard of such a thing happening before.”
Tina sat straighter, her mind reeling with the cascade of information. A boy! She hadn’t even wondered at her baby's gender, and now she knew. But she could not understand the rest.
“So, you're saying he won't… change… into a wolf? Is he... is he human, Shandari? Like me?”
“In form, yes.” Shandari squeezed her hand. “He is not Flatlander, like you. But he is human.”
“What is the difference? What does it mean, that he’s not Flatlander?” Tina's chest constricted.
Shandari tilted her head as she thought about it.
“In Kaarmanesh, magic is an element. It is as much a part of our world as the atmosphere, soil, or water. It is in our bodies, like iron or magnesium, and we constantly access it. We can see and feel it around us, always. In your world, there is almost no magic. To us, your world appears flat, without the contours that magic creates. Your son is a child of Kaarmanesh. Magic fills him, just as it does all of us.”
Tina shook her head, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts enough to say something coherent. ”I'm sorry. I'm trying to understand this. I think you're saying that he has inherited the magic of Kaarmanesh from his father. Those genes, if you will, are dominant over my Flatland genes. Does that sound right?”
Shandari pursed her lips. “I'm not certain what you mean by genes, but the principle is sound. I believe it would be wise for us to spend much time together, Tina. We are both healers, and your pregnancy raises many questions. I would like to study this with you, and also help you through it. I know you are frightened and uncertain. But together we will find answers. Would you be willing to do that?”
“You mean stay here?” Tina shook her head. “I can't do that. I have patients who need me. I've been gone too long as it is.” She glanced at Windblood, who stood leaning against her desk. “Can I come back occasionally to work with her? There is so much I need to learn.”
“I think it's essential that you do.” Windblood stood straight, jaw tight and fingers tapping the desk behind her as she gazed at Shandari. She turned to Tina. “I can take you back, if you're ready. I'd like to know what you will tell your people regarding Mr. Ruth.”
Tina sighed. “Once the quarantine is lifted, I can tell them he went to a hospital in Portland. I've been after him to do that for several months now. That will at least buy us some time and won't raise any questions. But what about the murderer? How do we protect ourselves from him if no one knows he's there, or that he has killed?”
“That's my job,” Windblood said. “I already have agents looking for him, and I have agents assigned to guard your town, although you will not see them. I will stay in touch with you, if you are willing. You can let me know if you see anybody strange around. And Tina….” she hesitated.
“What?” Tina noticed the use of her first name. Until now, Windblood had kept things formal.
“If, as you work with Shandari and learn more about your child, and about us... I hope you change your mind about Clive.” Windblood raised her hands to her face, as if to hide the sudden emotion it showed. “A human child. A child that lives, and does not kill the mother. Right now, you cannot know what this would mean to him. I just ask you to remain open to the possibility.”
Tina swallowed against an urge to cry. Or scream in frustration.
“I don't know, Captain. I need time. I intend to take it.”
“I understand.”
Tina stood, but Shandari stopped her with a touch. “How are you faring against the illness in your town?”
“It appears to be running its course.” Tina lifted a shoulder, blinking rapidly against burning eyes. “No new cases overnight, no deaths in two days.” She stared at Shandari. “How do you know about the illness? I never mentioned it.”
Shandari's mouth opened, but she glanced at Windblood instead of speaking. Windblood stepped forward. “We've been watching your area because of the portal activity,” she said.
Tina heard the lie. “It came from here, didn't it? That strange parasite… it's one of yours. Did the werewolf bring it?”
Windblood tilted her head and Tina knew she was going to lie again. She jabbed a finger into the taller woman's chest. “You knew. You knew we had a… a Kaarmaneshian disease, and you did nothing to help.” Shaking, she stepped closer to Windblood, her finger jabbing again. “Why? You could have sent someone incognito. You could have helped. People have been dying.” She choked on her words.
Shandari stood with a hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Was it because of Tina's accusation, or because she'd let the cat out of the bag? Windblood didn't move. She stared down at Tina, accepting the punishing finger.
“My superiors forbade it, Doctor. The rules governing travel to your world are very strict, and that parasite is one of the reasons. We've watched your world, and our leaders felt your medical science could handle the disease without our help. I'm sorry, though. I really am, Doctor.”
“Sorry?” Tina shouted, visions of the dead clouding her sight. “God damn you, what good does sorry do? Just one person, that's all. Someone to give us a hint of what it was, how to treat it, how to eliminate it. If we'd known earlier, no one would have died.”
Shandari spoke up. “Even with our knowledge, the treatment would not be that fast, Tina. You are right, we could have helped. But some of your people would still have died. It's a vicious disease. Fortunately, it is short-lived, especially in the Flatlands.”
Tina turned to the healer, her jaw set in a hard line.
“You are going to tell me all about it right now. Its characteristics, its life cycle, its pathogenics, everything. I want to know how to eliminate it from our water and soil and from people's bodies. If you have medicine for it, you're going to give it to me. Start talking.”
Without waiting for Windblood's permission, Shandari did.
Chapter 19
The moon glared down at Clive as he stepped out of his tent just before dawn. He kept his eyes on his feet as he moved to stoke the fire, and set the coffee pot on the rock he'd placed in the center. The forest was silent and he found himself wishing for the song of a bird. He heard them sometimes in town, when there were enough other people to mask his aura. He knew birds always sang in the morning. Unless a werewolf was around.
Even through the cold, he felt the moon's heat on his neck. It was almost full. He sighed and lifted his head, gazing into the trees, counting the hours. With no portal nearby, he'd need about three hours to reach the nearest enclave. That left most of the day for more tracking.
The fire caught at last, and Clive stood, keeping his back to the moon. Accordi
ng to Sheriff Nancy's informant—a pixie, even more disgusting than most of them— he'd find his goblin somewhere in that forest. Others too, perhaps. He hitched his jacket closer to his ears, trying to scratch the warning itch that tickled him. There was no doubt he was walking into a trap. It's what Magger did, after all—hunted werewolves. Even if these goblins weren't criminals, they'd still have reason to kill him.
Of course, if they weren't criminals, he'd never be looking for them.
~~
The moon vanished at last, sinking below the horizon a few minutes after the sun rose. Even though its power still gnawed at him, Clive felt lighter now that it was gone. He changed into camouflage and rubbed his face with wet soil. He’d left his equipment at the campsite, except for weapons. He checked them now: the taser was charged and tucked into its holster, he had a knife where he could reach it, and a switchblade ready in his pocket. A garrote hung from the holster belt, along with handcuffs and chains. His walking stick doubled as a quarterstaff, and tripled as a spear. He'd modified it to conceal a blade in the end, which would flip out with a twist of the stick.
He pushed through the forest litter, keeping the path to his left, content to catch an occasional glance of it. According to his informant, the path led to the goblins’ hunting cabin.
“Always there for the full moon,” the pixie had told him, not bothering to hide his glee at tormenting Clive with the news. “There’re always a few weres who don't report to an enclave. In a good month, they can bring in two or three hides.”
Clive paused in his hike at the top of a hill, observing a thin column of smoke rising from the trees a few miles away. This had to be the cabin. He could smell the goblins from here. Touching the nearest knife for reassurance, he headed downhill.
~~
Forty minutes later, he paused about a hundred yards from the cabin, sinking to his hands and knees. Smoke rose from the chimney, but no sound drifted from the building. His breath slowed as he reached with all his senses to feel the forest around him. These goblins hunted werewolves. They had to have ways of masking their presence, or they'd never be able to catch anyone.
What was their secret?
With the moon just a few hours from full, Clive’s stride had deteriorated into stiff jerks. He still covered a great deal of ground, but his joints ached, and an occasional spasm stabbed his guts. His eyes saw farther, and his ears picked up the slightest sounds. His sense of smell was hyper, something he regretted this close to goblins. He slipped through the trees, ready to attack or defend.
Perhaps that was how they did it. By saturating the area with their scent, a were would not be able to pinpoint their location. Clive sighed to himself. Damn them, anyway. I’m running out of…
He went as still as prey in sight of a predator. A goblin stood just fifty feet ahead, near the back of the cabin. The bandage covering his head hinted that he was one of Magger's friends from Poentreville. Clive shifted the quarterstaff. Listening for any other goblins, he crept closer, pausing at the clearing. Twenty feet or so remained to cross, with no sheltering trees. The goblin would see and hear Clive well before he reached him.
He’d have to move fast. Clive took a deep breath and raced through the clearing, holding the quarterstaff out, aiming for the goblin's chest. He just had to knock him down.
The goblin turned as Clive reached him, but he didn't have time to move. The staff caught right under the armpit, lifting him a few feet off the ground. Clive fell forward from the impact, dropping the staff to catch himself. He rolled, landing a kick on the goblin's leg before rising to his knees and jerking his prisoner over onto his back.
The goblin howled, slashing Clive's face with long fingernails, his feet landing vicious kicks. Clive rammed head-first into the goblin's stomach, then stood to flip him over and pull his arms behind his back.
Something hit him in the back with a stinging blow. Then another one, and another, followed by yells from the forest.
“Get away from him, you fucking were! Drop him, now! You're surrounded!”
Clive dragged the goblin to his feet, turning to hold him in front of him. A hail of rocks hit both of them, as two more goblins raced toward them, gathering rocks as they came. Clive recognized Magger just as the goblin he held jabbed an elbow into his groin. Clive yelled in fury, pulling him into a headlock.
“Fuck! Lay off, or I'll kill him!” He'd drawn his closest knife, holding it against the goblin's throat, and making sure Magger and his friend saw it. “Just back off. I'm Portal Enforcement, and I have some questions. Everyone just settle down, and we'll get through this without anyone getting hurt. You got it?”
The one in his arms held still, shaking a little against the knife. The other two paused, but did not drop their rocks.
“Your boss let me go, fair and square,” Magger sneered. “And there's no portals around here for you to investigate. You're on my turf now, you lying were, and I promise, you're not getting out of here alive.”
“You know I have the authority,” Clive said. “So drop the rocks, and…” A sharp pain filled his head, and the world went black.
~~
His own moaning woke him. He swallowed against the sound, opening his eyes to stare at a steel floor. When he could focus again, he saw the steel floor led to steel bars.
A stick poked him. He suppressed the growl that rose in his throat, and sat up, made a dizzy snatch at the stick and missed.
“Fuck off,” he said, holding a hand to his head in an effort to keep the world still. His hand came away sticky with blood. He noticed he was naked. They’d taken his clothes.
“So you're awake.” The voice was high and nasal, grating along Clive's spine. “Good to know that last rock didn't kill you.”
Clive sighed, moving his hand enough to glare up at a goblin—not one he'd been fighting—standing a few feet away. Clive blinked in a vain attempt to clear his vision. His captor was Nottum Grimman, Sheriff Nancy's “unpleasant character.”
The cage was not big enough for Clive to stand up, but he didn't feel capable of doing that yet, anyway. “If you have a sane bone in your body,” he said, “you'll let me out of here really quick.”
“I will? How's that?” Grimman poked him with the stick again.
Clive ignored it and lifted his arm, glancing up in fury when he realized his wrist was bare as well. “You have my strap, rat-face? Did you read it, rat-face? You know what you're dealing with? RAT-FACE?”
Clive's strap appeared in Grimman's hand, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the goblin tossed it up and down in studied nonchalance. He fixed Clive with one eye and a grin. “I read it. Magger vouched for you, too. We've got a bona-fide werewolf portal enforcer on our hands. It's a first.”
Clive leaned against the bars behind him. His head hurt and it was hard to stay awake. His joints ached and rattled, already loose. He couldn't see the sun, but based on how he felt, he had about four hours left. He'd need three of them to reach the nearest enclave.
“The Bureau knows I'm here,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes open. “If you kill me, this place will be swarming with enforcers.”
The goblin stepped up to the cage, close enough that his nose poked through. “You'll still be dead,” he said. And he laughed.
Clive rubbed his forehead, avoiding the lump on the side of his head. The stick poked his unprotected side, and he flashed his hand down to grab it. This time, he was quick enough to get a splinter as the stick slipped out of his grasp.
“What I want to know,” Grimman said in a conversational tone, “is what Portal Enforcement is doing here? Aren't any portals around for a couple hundred miles.”
Clive let his hands rest in his lap and kept one eye on the stick. “You know someone I'm looking for. There's one werewolf whose hide you aren't after. In fact, he tells you what to do. You work for him.”
The goblin snorted, but didn't say anything.
Clive leaned forward. “I want his name. I want to know where he is, r
ight now.”
Grimman tapped the stick against the cage, his face alert with amusement.
“If I tell you that, I gotta kill you.”
“If you kill me, you have less than a day to live yourself. You think my boss doesn't check to make sure I report to an enclave? She'll be here thirty minutes after full moon. You won't have time to skin me.”
The goblin shrugged. “It's not a crime to kill a werewolf outside an enclave. Self-defense.”
“Keeping me in a cage until I transform is murder, rat-face.”
“So? How will they know we did that? Or does your boss know that you're stupid enough to get trapped?” The stick jammed into Clive's stomach, but this time Clive got it, pulling Grimman against the cage before he had time to release it.
Grimman laughed again as he pulled back.
“Damn. Now I'll have to get my other stick.” He turned to the woodpile behind him and pulled a polished stick up from the other side. He held it up, gazing at it with affection. A door slammed, and the other goblins wandered over to perch on stones. Magger gave Clive a friendly wave. The injured goblin sported a fresh bandage. He crossed his arms, fixing Clive with a steady, smug grin.
Clive clamped down on his nerves and narrowed his eyes in sardonic nonchalance. “A wand? You play at goblin tricks, rat-face?”
“Oh.” Grimman’s voice was dreamy, and he continued to gaze at the wand. “I'm a bit past the playing stage.”
“He sure is,” Magger said. He licked his lips. “Grimman's better with a wand than some witches.”
“Indeed.” Grimman turned his gaze from the wand onto Clive, who shuddered at the dark fire glinting within his green eyes. “You'll understand quite soon, Mr. Winslow.”
Worlds Apart Page 12
