She was dangling, and looking pretty worried. That look is unusual for her. But there are no circumstances under which she won’t fight back. Her free hand had a Glock in it, and she was firing down at her attacker. She was hitting the thing more often than not. But normal bullets were still little use. Her Mossberg was lying on the flagstones where she’d thrown it, right out of her reach.
As for Hanlon? He had remained over by the statue, and was watching the events unfold from there. He seemed to have lost any interest in me and Lauren, his focus moving wholly to the front of the Town Hall. He was taking in the scene almost detachedly, waiting to see what would happen. His robes billowed gently. And his sickly horse had gone as still as he was.
He hadn’t even noticed that the mayor and his people were getting away. Aldernay scrabbled—hunched and crablike—off into an alley on the east side of the square, then disappeared into its shadows. Mrs. Dower, following along behind him, did the same.
A loud clash brought my head swinging back. The warlike rider had come up with a new plan. It had given up on trying to hack at Cass, and was attacking the drainpipe she was clinging to instead. Its first blow made the whole thing rattle. And the second time, an entire lower section fell away.
Which forced Cassie to holster her gun and concentrate on simply hanging on. There was a row of window ledges above her. She stretched for them, but couldn’t reach them either.
The horse reared up below her. It was as ugly as its master, its hide the same red as dried blood. Its mane was a series of high, rigid spikes. And all these beasts had sharp fangs, surely. But this one was saber-toothed.
It stretched as high as it was able. And then pounded at the next section of pipe. Cass kept hanging on like grim death. Except—by this time—there was very little to hang on to.
Me and Lauren were both running. I still wasn’t quite sure what difference we could make. Perhaps if I got the shotgun and distracted the thing for a few seconds…?
But if we didn’t have a proper plan, then Cass apparently did. Before we reached her, she had set both of her booted feet against the wall. I watched her body go tight. Her back arced, her arms stretching to their full length.
And then she did something that I’d never even thought her capable of, before tonight.
She let go. And, at the same time, pushed herself away with her legs, as hard as she could manage.
She performed a back flip in the air.
And when she landed, it was on the horse. Behind the rider.
The only thing that we could do was stumble to a halt and gawk. I’d watched Cassie do some crazy things in my time. But was pretty sure this topped them all.
There was a maddened logic to it, on reflection. If you’ve only got one place left to go, then why not go there forcefully? And once she had landed, she didn’t even hesitate. Her left arm went around the rider’s throat. She wasn’t trying to strangle the thing—it was simply the best way to hold on. The stallion started to buck furiously, bellowing with mindless rage. Its neck craned around. Its long teeth snapped. But its jaws couldn’t reach her.
Cassie tried to grab the rider’s sword. I thought at first that she was going to manage it. But then the Horseman saw what she was doing, and snatched the weapon away from her.
They were flailing around in circles, the steed going up on its muscular hind legs. Clattering and braying echoed in between the empty buildings. And my bones seemed to shudder with the sound.
Cassie’s face was hard, determined. Set like rock, her eyes twin spots of anthracite. She grabbed for the hilt again. And this time, her fingers almost closed around it. But the Horseman proved to be a good deal stronger. One sharp yank, and it was clear again.
This couldn’t go on too much longer. Human beings, however tough, are only made of flesh and blood. The horse lurched up so fiercely all but one of its hooves left the ground. Cassie yelped. Lost her grip, starting to fall. But just as she was sliding down, she managed to grab hold of the black robes in front of her.
She clung to a double fistful, setting her teeth grimly. And, thank God, the fabric didn’t part. But she was dangling precariously. And she’d already done enough of that to last her several lifetimes.
The rider turned around in its saddle, twisting its shoulders as far as they could go. The bright blade plunged in her direction. Cassie swung off to the side. The tip of the sword almost grazed her arm. And one tiny cut would have been enough to finish this. A sharp tremor ran through my body.
She tried to right herself, but couldn’t do it properly. Her balance was off, and she kept on wobbling and slipping. I raised my firearm, trying to take aim at the rider’s head. But couldn’t manage it without risking hitting her. Lauren, with her Walther raised, could see that too.
Cass was losing her grip.
I started closing the distance again. Perhaps I’d get a chance to drag her out of there. But she wasn’t finished yet.
She let go of the cloak with her right hand. What exactly was she doing? She was yanking at the wide folds, gathering up as much of the black cloth between her upper arms as she could manage.
The blade came hacking at her again, its edges still on fire. But instead of drawing back, Cassie shoved her arms toward it, pushing the wad of cloth into the dancing flames.
She was leaping clear in the next instant. Sailing off behind the horse, where its hooves couldn’t reach her. She hit the flagstones badly, on her shoulder. But that didn’t slow her down. The next moment she was back on her feet, and sprinting out of reach.
A silent prayer of thanks went through me. Then I looked at what she’d done.
Fire had spread across the Horseman’s back, and was climbing up across its neck. Its steed was still turning in circles, faster than it had before. And shrieking at a higher pitch. It was trying to throw its master off, and looked completely terrified.
Orange flames started crackling fiercely, all over the black-clad body. As I watched, they engulfed the hood. The creature tipped its face back and let out an anguished howl that seemed to split the air in half.
When the figure finally dropped from its saddle, it fell like a burning branch. It kicked furiously for a while, its limbs diminished to thin, flickering outlines.
Then it went completely still, although the fire did not go out immediately.
An awful stench began drifting to us. The horse, like its brothers, disappeared from sight. The front doors of the Town Hall seemed to tremble in the shifting light.
I would probably have let out a long, slow breath at that point. But there was nothing resembling that still remaining in my lungs.
CHAPTER 55
But by what means exactly were we going to defeat Hanlon? I couldn’t imagine how that could be done. There weren’t any weapons to use against what he’d become. There was only the creature itself, possessed of its deadly touch.
I looked back where he had been sitting. But he was no longer there.
Was nowhere to be seen at all. He had simply watched his comrades being vanquished, and then gone away, presumably to hatch some new plans.
Where to? That was pretty obvious. But it was a reprieve of sorts, and I was grateful for that. My bones ached.
The square was completely deserted apart from us three, where there’d been such sound and fury before. The shadows of the buildings hung around us. And the big bronze statue—it continued to gaze down. Did old Theodore approve? I glanced across at Cassie, who had gone off to the left side of the building and was rubbing at her injured shoulder.
There seemed to be something odd about her. Nothing as serious as before. Her eyes were back to their normal shining darkness. But a strange, ominous sense began to overtake me at the sight of her.
I simply knew it, staring at her. This was not quite the same Cass Mallory I had come to know and rely on. She might have returned to help us, and in a more than usually impressive fashion. But something was off center.
Normally, she’d look pleased with hers
elf. But this time, there was none of that. She looked hunched and shrunken, pretty miserable in fact. And she was keeping her distance from us, in spite of the fact that the danger was gone.
She didn’t look like she knew which direction to go. There was something almost waiflike and disoriented about the way she was standing. I kept peering at her through the broken dimness. What the hell was going on?
She looked like she’d lost a fight, rather than winning it. Something had obviously changed, inside her. Been taken out of her, perhaps?
I stepped in a little closer, holstering my gun. Some glass from a broken lamp skittered away from the tips of my shoes. And Cass tried to shrink back from me a little, before deciding to stay where she was. There were emotions in her eyes that I wasn’t familiar with, not from her. And not simply sadness. Could I make out shame? Perhaps a trace of self-disgust? The battle, her victory, seemed to mean nothing to her. Maybe she’d been fighting on some kind of automatic reflex, since it looked as though her spirit had been broken.
“Cassie?”
To my astonishment, she took two paces back. She was holding her body stiffly by this time, the way a child might when confronted with an angry grown-up.
“I’m sorry, Ross,” I heard her say.
And I tried to put this right, before it got completely out of hand.
“What happened before—it wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not true!” she came back at me.
What on earth was she talking about?
“I’ve tried to make it right,” she went on, “best way I know how. But I can’t do any more, understand? It’s up to you to finish it.”
I opened my mouth again. But she simply turned away, and began loping off into the darkness, growing smaller as I watched.
I was so astonished I remained stock-still, instead of trying to follow her.
“What just happened?” Lauren asked me quietly.
She had come up, and could see how stunned I was. Her hand went to my arm, but I barely noticed that, my thoughts a dense muddle.
“I’m not sure,” I heard myself say.
“Does she do that kind of thing a lot?”
The answer was…never. We still had a final battle up ahead of us, and Cassie knew that perfectly well. And she’d never backed down from a fight before.
I couldn’t get a handle on any of this. What exactly did it mean? I had always been able to depend on her, no matter how bad things got. To lose her at a time like this was like having one of my own legs chopped off.
“Does she think Saul’s dead?” Lauren suggested. “Maybe she’s in shock, or denial?”
Which would account for a hell of a lot. And I wished Cass were still here, so I could set her straight on that. But it was too late, and might not even have made a load of difference. She seemed to have gone into a state of mind a long way beyond that.
A moving smudge flitted across the corner of my vision. And then Martha Howard-Brett appeared in front of us. Her face was drawn, like she’d been deeply worried, or else working really hard, or both.
“How’s Vallencourt?” I asked her quickly, glad to change the subject.
“I almost lost him, to be honest. But then, a few minutes ago, he suddenly revived.”
That had to be have been when Lauren killed the Horseman. And was some cause for celebration, at least. The thought of losing a third good guy in just one evening…
But Martha was still looking pretty darned unhappy.
“Hanlon’s back at Millwood House,” she told us. “I watched him ride in. That was quite a sight.”
“And?”
“Something else is happening. You’d better take a look.”
CHAPTER 56
The barriers were still there, at the same height and extensive breadth. But something had definitely changed about them. They didn’t have a glossy tinge to them any longer, and had turned a darker shade of gray that blended more readily into the surrounding night. In fact, it was much harder to see them. Was the whole thing going to vanish? I could only pray that was the case, although I doubted Hanlon would give in so easily.
Glancing further up the street, I spotted Ritchie Vallencourt. He was active again, half hidden behind the topiary on somebody’s front lawn. And had Paul McKendrick with him, who had also managed to survive the first assault. So I headed over to them, feeling very glad the young detective was still with us.
It had been a real ordeal for Ritchie. I could see it in the dark shadows around his eyes, the startled gleam in them. His skin still had a sallow look, despite the fact that he’d recovered. He appeared to have aged several years since the last time I’d talked with him. Roughly half an hour ago.
The Landing can do that to a person sometimes. Leave you older—and hopefully wiser—between one moment and the next. What must it have been like for him, feeling his whole body waste away? I couldn’t even imagine.
He was trying to put a brave face on it, standing squarely, issuing orders through his phone. But when he finally got to bed—if any of us ever got there—what would it be like for him? What kind of dreams would he descend into once sleep had claimed him?
“Hold your positions,” he was saying. “And stay out of sight, for Pete’s sake.”
So he’d brought more uniforms up here. I wasn’t sure if that was the right move, after what had happened to the first batch. But I wasn’t in charge, and had to accept that. A careful glance along the length of Plymouth Drive revealed the snouts of rifles poking out from behind walls and protruding from rooftops.
He noticed me, and gave me a respectful nod.
“You got them?”
Martha appeared beside him in the shadows.
“All but the important one,” I told him. “What exactly are you doing now?”
He glanced around the same way I’d done.
“Containment.”
“Yeah? I don’t think it’ll work.”
Annoyance spread across his face. Which made me see that his reputation as a tough nut, fairly volatile, was warranted.
“Then what exactly would you have me do? Christ, Devries, I’m just an ordinary man. If you want something better, ask the adepts. Where the hell have they all gone?”
And that was a good point. Martha had been helping us, of course. But Vernon? Levin? The others on the hill who were possessed of really serious magic? They’d come to our assistance readily enough last night. But they were no longer in evidence.
There had to be a reason for that. I glanced across at Martha, who looked puzzled too.
“Okay, I’m on it,” she told me.
Then she turned into a smudge, and vanished.
The rest of us took another hard look at the barrier across the street.
“What is that?” the uniformed sergeant murmured.
Something seemed to be happening to the wall. It had turned an even darker gray since I’d arrived, and parts of its surface had started shifting. Not in any pattern, as had been the case before. This was more like watching water being sloshed around in a rectangular tub. Entirely random, with no proper direction to it. Sections just detached themselves and flowed across each other, merging constantly and changing pace. It was happening to the whole expanse. And could have been mesmeric, if it wasn’t so damned threatening.
“What do you suppose is going on in there?” Vallencourt wondered.
But the barrier was still opaque. What Hanlon had planned was anybody’s guess.
Martha came back. This time, she had Judge Levin with her. She looked upset, apologetic. And the judge was so dour and unhappy he could barely raise his narrow head. He was still in the same brown suit, but had put on a fresh white shirt. Except he didn’t have his robes across his shoulders. Which meant either he hadn’t been planning to use magic, or else things had become too urgent for that.
I couldn’t see his eyes behind those rimless spectacles of his. The angle was wrong. But what was bothering them both? We’d faced a lot that was prett
y dreadful in the past couple of days. Could there possibly be something worse?
“Where are the others?” I asked.
At first, there was no response. Martha seemed to have lost the power of speech, and Levin looked too overwhelmed to answer.
He finally pulled himself together. He had dignity, when everything else failed. As he lifted his face to look at me, his glasses tilted, clearing. There was genuine regret in his pale gaze.
And something else. Genuine fear as well. A horror that was swallowing him.
“The rest aren’t coming,” he informed me.
His voice was so diminished I could barely make it out. Not even a whisper, really. Little more than an exhaled breath.
“And in point of fact,” he continued, “I have no business being here either. There is absolutely nothing any of us can do.” I got the rest from Martha, who’d recovered her senses a little by this stage. She had gone to the Vernon residence, the judge’s, Kurt van Friesling’s, and found each of them empty. Then she’d headed for the McGinleys’ home. And found the whole load of them in the inner sanctum, that strange circular room that I had visited before. They’d been pensive, barely moving. Almost dazed, in fact.
“We came to a joint decision several hours ago,” the judge broke across her. “Our involvement last night helped to save the town, for sure. But we could see that picking off these individual demons wouldn’t solve the central problem.”
“Hanlon?” I asked.
“No. Not him, but what he stole. At the center of this nightmare lies the Wand of Dantiere itself. Of course, we didn’t even know of its existence until recently. So we decided to combine our powers and delve into its origins, its past.”
And this sounded familiar. Magic left footprints, I already knew. It left a trail on the night air. If you had sufficient spells and knowledge, you could follow it back to its source. And find out how and why it was created. Its strengths and limits, and intended purpose. Willets did it the whole time. It was how he’d clued me in on Saruak.
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