Well, Garrie understood. She gathered the tokens up — with respect, but without hesitation — and set them off to the side, under a pretty ornamental plum. The tree welcomed them; the ground welcomed them — a subtle drift of pleasing breeze that had not been present at the rock at all.
“Groovy,” said Bobbie ghost.
Ah, there she perched. On the rock, of course — up high, of course. Barely discernible in the darkness, but with the same central muddle of energies that made Garrie think she’d taken a horrible lower back injury in her fall.
“You’re welcome,” Garrie told her, peripherally aware that Robin would have stepped in closer to investigate had Trevarr not simply put himself in her way. “Is there any other way I can help you?”
Bobbie ghost scowled, fading out for a moment. “I don’t — it’s a secret.” And then she disappeared, but only for an instant. “I slept,” she said, when she returned, and she sounded baffled. “For so long. And then something woke me. Changes here, tugging at me. Rad stuff. And I found this... this litter here — man, it’s all wrong!”
“There have been changes,” Garrie agreed. “We’re working on sorting them out. But it would really, really help if you didn’t drop any more rocks on our heads while we’re doing it. Because that’s pretty distracting.”
“I—” the young woman said, looking down at her feet, at the rock she stood on; her wild bell bottoms swung out of the way with her movement. “Oh.”
“And if you happen to get a sense of what’s going on, feel free to share. The more I know, the better I can counteract it.”
“I’m—” Bobbie ghost said. “It’s—” And she scowled and blurted, “Secret!” in a voice that went all drippy around the edges as she abruptly disappeared.
Garrie sighed, turning toward their cabin. “Well, maybe she won’t drop any more rocks, at least. Or maybe she will. She’s pretty tangled up. And I really, truly don’t want this one to end in dissipation just because I couldn’t get through to her.”
“You care about them,” Trevarr said, not as if surprised, but just as if it was the first time he’d thought about it in those terms. “You could do away with them at any time — any of them. But you don’t. Not even those remnants where I first found you.”
Right. The fractured pieces of multiple spirits, killed by flash flood a century earlier and accidentally incorporated into the house construction. Garrie had seen them returned to the arroyo in which they had died, allowing them to rest.
“Right,” she said out loud. “That’s not what this is about. It’s never been what this is about. But then... you know that, if you spent all that time with Rhonda Rose.”
“I know that,” he agreed. “But I learn it all over again. It is much different than things on — where I come from.”
Garrie muttered, “That, I believe.”
They walked the meandering path to their unit, where the darkened windows on the side she shared with Lucia pointed her exactly where she’d expected to go — the guy room. Garrie knocked once for propriety and opened the door, not surprised to find Quinn squinting at his laptop and Lucia rising from what had been a curled-up nap on his bed, her face flushed in a way that told Garrie she’d been pushed to her limits this evening.
Yeah. Flashing lights, half the town in darkness. Their simple little task, grown out of control and rippling outward.
Trevarr’s bed was, somehow — in a way that barely got a glance from Garrie but stopped Robin short — already occupied by Sklayne. Trevarr’s heavy leather satchel hung from the headboard; other than that, there was no sign of him in this room, and Garrie suddenly wondered if he’d slept here at all.
“Lots of activity,” Quinn reported without preamble. “Heart attacks, fainting, accidents with electricity. Half the town is down... you probably saw that. Something hard rolled through here. Things go okay with you?”
“Well,” Garrie said, and pondered a moment. “We got their attention.”
“Okay?” Robin said, as if the words burst out of her. “Okay?” She looked as disheveled as Garrie had seen her, her thermal shirt rumpled and smeared with a reddish stain, her jeans sporting a small tear from the dark hike, her hair mussed. Through Quinn’s eyes, she was probably damned adorable — rumpled, vulnerable, no longer tightly bound by that bodice, and her extra weight perfectly proportioned to maintain a figure that Garrie would never have. Lush versus tight and wiry.
Oh well.
But right. Robin was ranting. Pay attention.
“I get it, okay?” Robin said, gesturing at Garrie, and then at them all. “I get what you do. I get that I didn’t get it.”
“Ah,” Lucia said, catching Garrie’s eyes. “You were impressive, yes?”
“Inadvertently,” Garrie admitted.
Lucia sat up all the way, tucking her feet beneath her. Naturally, her summer outfit had not wrinkled. She pinned Robin with her gaze. “So, now you want, what? A medal? You want in the club? For that, you believe in us when it means something. Anyone can believe after seeing what Garrie does.”
“It was Trevarr’s lerkhet,” Garrie said. “I just stirred things up a little.”
Sklayne’s laughter skimmed down the back of her neck. His cat form squeezed its eyes half-closed at her.
“What I want,” Robin said, rather desperately, “is to know what’s going on. I want to know how you think you’ll stop these people. I want to know what that thing was, and where it came from. I want to know who he is and where he came from, because don’t think I haven’t been trying to place that accent or that outfit or—” She threw her hands up.
“Gypsy,” Garrie said abruptly. “Very old gypsy tribe of Russian lines. Hasn’t been here long. They have a real way with animals, don’t you think?”
Maybe that last was a bit much. Robin just looked at her. And then she looked at Quinn.
“Robin,” Quinn said, ever so gently — and just in time to forestall Garrie’s flat-out too bad for you, it’s not gonna happen, “that takes trust.”
Robin jerked as though she’d been slapped. She took in a deep, slow, breath, looking at them all. “I see,” she said. “I messed up that big, huh?”
“Don’t get us wrong, pajarito,” Lucia said. “We’re doing this thing. But now we don’t stop to explain ourselves along the way.”
When Robin looked at Quinn again, he lifted his shoulder in a quiet shrug, leaning back in the desk chair to watch her.
Robin’s eyes filled. She got it.
Yeah, she definitely got it.
But she also wiped away the tears, brusque and no-nonsense. “Okay, then. What next? From me, I mean?”
“Have a seat,” Garrie said, not unkindly. “We’re about to figure that out. But... you think maybe you should stay here, instead of trying to drive home tonight?”
“I think she should,” Lucia agreed. “After this past day? You and I can share one of those beds.”
“I don’t have...” Robin waved a helpless gesture. “Toothbrush. Soap. Things.”
“We have an extra fancy welcome kit from the San Jose hotel, yes?” Lucia looked to Garrie to confirm it, then nodded. “Tomorrow morning, run home for things. Tonight, rest.”
Robin went to the previously proffered chair and sat, heavily. She wiped her eyes again and said unsteadily, “Thank you. And... I’m sorry. I wish I could—” She glanced at Quinn. “But I can’t. Undo any of it. I know that. So let’s just get this solved.”
“Did we buy some time, or not?” Quinn asked, and it was Trevarr he looked to.
Trevarr did as he’d done earlier — took one of the straight-backed chairs, flipped it around, and straddled it, his forearms resting across the back. “Your Sin Nombres will be busy,” he said. “But if they realize how to take advantage of the situation...” He shrugged.
Garrie felt the length of the day descend on her — the hike, the heat, the energies. “And how would that be?”
“The same way any group uses a weapon to its adva
ntage. First, to stop those might stop them.” He looked directly at Robin, his head tipped ever so slightly to maintain a shadow from the lamplight.
She flinched. Either she hadn’t truly noticed the impact of his gaze before, or she hadn’t kept it in mind. She fiddled with the zipper pull of her hoodie — up, down, up. But her voice remained steady. “Honestly, there’s no one besides us. I mean, no one I can think of. I wouldn’t even consider...” She sucked in air, blew it out, and started again. “There are some who might think...”
Quinn said, “This town is saturated with pretenders. How are you to know who can do exactly what?”
“I live,” Robin said starchly, “in a town saturated with good people, a great many of whom are wishful thinkers.” But the starch left her, and she added, “But you’re right. For the most part, people know who’s who... and like hangs with like. But not everyone fits into a neat little clique.”
“You don’t,” Lucia observed.
“Will your Huntington person take chances?” Trevarr asked, discarding nuance.
“He’s not mine.” Robin scowled, pretty features screwed into disdain. “This is all my fault. I never guessed...” She took a deep breath. “Huntington and Jim Dandy. Both macho assholes, if you really want to know. I figured their biggest ambition was to convince tourist cougars they were full mystical energies that could be tapped only by fulfilling their wildest sex dreams.”
“Then that is how it started,” Trevarr said, matter-of-factly. Maybe the universal startlement surprised him, for he glanced at Garrie. “It is not known? That pleasures of the flesh open conduits otherwise left closed?”
Garrie pretended she didn’t feel herself grow hot. “It’s not something that comes up,” she said, and winced — no, no, no, didn’t just say that — adding, “So to speak.” And then, at his skepticism, “Seriously. People here just aren’t used to dealing with discernible breezes. Certainly not enough to notice them if they’re, um... preoccupied.”
“People here,” Robin said flatly. “You mean the States? Because I’ve been in Europe, you know. It’s not that different. People don’t exactly fart rainbows.”
::Yes!:: Sklayne sat up with ears perked and whiskers fluffing out. ::Will try this thing!::
“You will not,” Garrie told him, fiercely.
Robin crossed her arms, tilted her head... raised her eyebrows.
Oops.
Quinn snorted, letting it go. “So Huntington and his now-dead pal Jim Dandy had a schtick for pulling in older ladies — but he was enough of the real deal to notice when the schtick actually produced results.” He nodded at the laptop. “That jibes with what I found this evening. Allusions, snide remarks... plenty of people know about their gimmicks, and that’s all they think is going on.”
“So tomorrow we... what? March into Huntington’s tour office and tell him to play nice?” Lucia’s doubt spread over eloquent features.
“I’m still looking for a way to protect the area from what’s happening,” Quinn said. “Big honking shields seem out of the question — they have to be fueled somehow, and Garrie can hardly do that by herself, never mind stick around to keep them going.”
“The vortexes?” Lucia suggested.
Garrie shook her head. “Everything’s running on dry already. I think we need to deal directly with this guy. The problem is, our gig is handling ghosts. Ghosts and darksiders. Not people.” She shook her head again. “I can hardly dissipate him. And I have no idea what happens if I try to... well... manage him. And you know what? I don’t want to know.”
“Are you kidding?” Robin’s voice came thinner than usual, and a little incredulous. “I know exactly what we do next. We put that thing of yours back where it belongs.” Robin glanced somewhat accusingly at Trevarr. “I can’t believe anyone thought bringing it here was a good idea.”
“Hey,” Garrie said, letting her miffed show. “It was a good idea. At first.”
Quinn cleared his throat. He planted both feet on the ground and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What exactly happened?”
“Yes,” Lucia said, looking straight at Garrie. “What exactly happened?”
“Er,” Garrie said.
Trevarr broke his recent silence with a matter-of-fact tone. “The creature did not react well to the damaged energies of Huntington’s people.”
“Think of it as toxic waste,” Garrie suggested, and Lucia made a face. “Hey, be glad you can’t taste it yourself.”
“Actually, I think it reacted really well to the toxic waste,” Robin said, her acerbic tone ramping back up. “Like it went in there a nerd and came out a supervillain.”
Garrie had to stop a moment and regard her with admiration. Resentful admiration — she wanted no part of admiring Robin at all, and she’d already had well enough of feeling like Stick Girl next to Robin’s plump voluptuousness. Especially since Stick Girl was not a good superhero name.
But Robin’s analogy was...
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s it exactly. Then add in the other interference — which seriously, came along at just exactly the wrong time—”
Trevarr caught her eye — something of reticence there, and she didn’t trust it. In fact, an instant of reality panic swamped her. Because he was a not-safe man with his not-cat and his leather duster and his sword, who had so recently invaded her world and her life, and who had still told her so little of himself — only hints and insinuations and spare, rare facts. And he’d already changed not just her circumstances but her body — and he was quite obviously ready to claim the rest of her body as his own, too.
Please.
There, see? That wasn’t her, that thought. It had never been her.
But when she looked at him again, she saw beyond the obvious — beyond the startling first impression of fierce features and broad shoulders and strength on the prowl. Beyond the scattering of old scars, well-used hands often hidden beneath half-finger gloves that made a whole lot more sense now that she’d seen the sword and knives.
One wanted a good grip, after all.
She saw an equally startling vulnerability.
She must be insane.
That wasn’t her, either. Seeing things in people. Accepting silences and games. Accepting that somehow, in some way, his need for her had created a need for him. Accepting that his very touch had changed her very nature — and instead of snarling and slamming every possible door in his face, she’d let him in again. And again. And —
“Chicalet?” Lucia asked, worry drawing fine brows together.
Oh.
But Trevarr was the one who seemed to blink, to suck in a quick breath; his shoulders twitched. Yet his voice was perfectly normal. “I believe the lerkhet’s changes to be permanent.”
::Permanent. Yes. No longer a thing of Kehar.::
How handy to communicate without a mouth, if one was to be cleaning one’s nether regions during the conversation.
Trevarr aimed a look Sklayne’s way, enough focus in his attention to make Garrie think he spoke silently. Indeed, Sklayne lifted his head, a started expression widening rich green eyes as red-ticked fur rippling down his back.
He put his hind leg down and pulled his tail into a prim curl around his feet. ::Not a thing of Kehar,:: he repeated, looking at Trevarr as though it meant something.
It did.
“It cannot return from whence it came,” Trevarr said out loud.
“From whence it came,” Robin echoed. “Does anyone really say that?” And when they looked at her, she waved them off with a hand. “No, no, never mind. Just having a reality-challenged moment. Another one.”
“What, then?” Lucia said, her hands resting so quietly on her knees that Garrie recognized it for what it was — Lucia in self-control. Lucia worried. “And what exactly happened to it?”
“Oh,” Garrie said vaguely, “It got bigger. It got kind of sparky. And it got ugly, but honestly... it was pretty ugly to start with. It’s just that when it was small, it ha
d that so-ugly-it’s-cute thing going for it. You know. Like some of those monkey-faced dogs. Now, really not so much.” She repeated the vague gesture Trevarr had made earlier that day, fingers waving around at either side of her mouth... decided against doing the same at her butt.
“A lot bigger,” Robin said. “A lot sparky. And everywhere it went, it left...” She hesitated, looking at Garrie as if for help with the words, and finally said, “Unfootprints.”
Quinn snorted. “What’s that supposed to be? Unfootprints?”
Trevarr cocked his head slightly. “I believe it was removing energy from all it touched. Removing... order.”
“What? Like an entropy machine?” Quinn gave a short bark of laughter — and then his amusement died away. “You mean it.”
“It resisted capture with—” Trevarr glanced at Robin, decided against finishing that sentence. “But it may be that we can worry it until it can be controlled again.”
Garrie got it. Got that he didn’t want to say straight out that he had a device made of rare metal and inexplicable stones — the ekhevia — that would affect the lerkhet’s ethereal nature.
And Quinn got it, too, in his own way. “You want to beat it up until it can’t resist.”
“What a fun plan!” Garrie exclaimed, and just barely restrained herself from clapping her hands together in sardonic glee.
“And then all we’ve done is solve the problem we created while trying to solve the problem,” Robin said, pointed words in a pointed tone.
“Why yes,” Garrie said, so sweetly that Lucia winced and Quinn put his face in his hands and Trevarr’s eyebrow shot up, the one that was so completely independent of the other, so very Spock. “Sometimes when we don’t really know what’s going on, we define what might work by trying different things and seeing how they don’t work. For instance, if the person we’ve come to help insists on keeping all the juicy little tidbits to herself so she can have control of just exactly how we perceive the situation because maybe her whole goal wasn’t really to get help because she never expected us to be capable of helping in the first place. Say, maybe if the whole thing was just an excuse to get a certain one of us here, and the rest of us simply proved annoyingly independent and resistant to manipulation. You know. Like that.”
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