She rode the 'steed up to the cliffs shade, helped the boy off first, then herself, then Wolf, who was moving very slowly.
"Petrus?" she asked hopefully.
"We still have the other side of the river to search," the King said. "I'm not giving up yet."
"I think he just got washed downstream," Scoriath said. "As for Japhet…"
The rest remained unsaid. Wenlann came forward with the young man, who was younger than he had first thought.
"This is Lucas," she said, "And this is King Aedham, our beloved leader."
"A king?" the boy said, astounded.
Not to mention an elf! Aedham thought, I need to talk to Wenlann about this. I'm not so sure it's a good idea for him to be aware of us…
"My pleasure," Aedham said, shaking Lucas' hand. He felt weak, and took a seat on a large, vaguely throne-shaped rock. "Wolf, did you succeed in your conquest?"
The human didn't look much healthier than he felt in the shade he looked even paler than he had before, a sure sign he'd lost blood. "Yes, I did. The cat spirit, Ha-Sowa, is no more."
"I'm grateful that part of our expedition was a success, anyway," Aedham said, trying to fight the unhappiness away. If Petrus died because of all this I'll never forgive myself.
Aedham was about to suggest checking the other side of the river when Niamh, who had taken a moment to explore an interesting strata of stone, came running back to camp.
"Petrus is coming," he said, winded. The King clambered to his feet, and instantly regretted the quick move; he sat back down, willing the dizziness away.
"Is he injured?" the King asked.
"He's walking on his own, that's all I can say for sure," Niamh said.
As Petrus came closer, it became evident that he'd had a rough day, too. But he was triumphant; when the garnering parted to let him through to the King, Aedham saw why.
Without a comment, he walked up to the King, deposited Japhet Dhu's head at his feet, and folded his arms proudly. For an insane moment Aedham thought of a cat, bringing home a dead rodent. The King regarded the head for a long time. Wenlann turned away politely, but in the background Aedham heard her laughing hysterically. Lucas seemed fascinated if anything, but Wolf looked paler than ever.
"Good work, Petrus," Aedham finally said. "Whatever happened, however it happened, this is indeed a job well done! Are you hurt?"
"Not enough to matter," Petrus said.
"Now," the King said, to Wenlann. "What are your plans?"
She had obviously thought this out already, as she took no time to reply. "With your leave, I would like to stay here with Wolf for a time. He still needs someone to take care of him. And I need to go fetch my steed: she's still at the motel isn't she?"
"Should be," Petrus replied. "Our week's about up there anyway."
Wenlann continued, "But right now I think I should make sure Lucas gets back home. His parents are probably worried sick about him."
"She's right," Lucas said. "I have been gone a while. I don't even know what day it is, do you?"
The King shook his head, "No, not in this world, I'm afraid. Wenlann, I trust you to use your good judgment in this matter. We are not unknown to humans, but those we do confide in are those we can trust."
"Of course, Sire," Wenlann said. "We can trust these two."
Aedham nodded, satisfied. "That's all I needed to hear."
"I would like to stay, too," Petrus blurted out. "I mean, to help out. Make sure everyone gets home okay."
Aedham cast a wary look to Wenlann, who returned it with a hesitant, affirming nod. Yes, they do indeed have some things to work out.
"Not a bad idea, Petrus," the King responded. "Once we are back in Underhill we have a few Gates to shut down. By the way, Wolf, where did your motorbike go?"
"It's where it was," Wolf replied. "I'm in no shape to ride, not today. It's hidden. We'll get it later." He looked back at the 'steeds, which still wore the elaborate tack of Avalon, and Petrus and Wenlann, who were dressed in their usual Underhill attire. "What about the way y'all look?"
"Easily tended to," Aedham said. He had already begun removing the glamorie on the Gate; the shining, shimmering disc was closer than he had thought. "Now, for you," he said. When he was done the two 'steeds wore typical western tack, and Petrus and Wenlann wore boots, jeans, western shirts and cowboy hats. "After we return Underhill I will instruct Niamh, or Odras, if he is well, to leave this Gate open until your return. Concealed, of course."
"Aie," said Petrus.
"I understand," Wenlann replied. Yet the King already knew, from the look in her eyes, that she would be staying here. That is her right, to live among humans if she chooses. My sister did the same, and it wouldn't hurt to have one of us in the area. He regarded the two, Wolf and Wenlann, who had moved closer to one another. They looked so right together it made his heart ache for his own loves, Ethlinn and young Traig.
"I'm ready to go home," the King announced.
Using the Sandia Mountains far to the North as a reference point, Wolf determined they were on Puerco Creek. From there, they would go to Wolf's shed, and rest. Lucas had finally got up the nerve to say he really didn't want to face his parents, at least not yet, and Wolf had graciously offered his home as a sanctuary.
I know I have to go home eventually, Lucas said to himself. I just need a place to get my head together.
He rode behind Petrus on his steed, while Wolf and Wenlann rode the mount Scoriath loaned. It didn't take long for him to pick up on what was going on, and wondered if it was such a good idea for Petrus to come along; the jealousy vibes from Petrus were thick, and Lucas read them with ease. If Wenlann noticed, she gave no indication. She seemed to be perfectly content riding with Wolf's arms around her, oblivious to everything else.
Meanwhile he became aware of a pressure in his groin, and realized he had to relieve himself, in a bad way. But there were no private places anywhere in sight. He decided to hold it until one happened along.
The rocky, hilly terrain leveled out somewhat, but they were still far from the highway. Wolf noted a passenger jet high overhead but it was going away from where he thought Albuquerque would be. And yes, it was descending… He scratched his head, clearly puzzled.
"I'm not so sure we're going the right way," he said, after sizing up the mountains in the distance. "At least I thought those were the Sandia Mountains."
"Could be the Manzano," Lucas said, squinting into the vista. "I live in the city so I don't know the mountains very well. The Sandia Mountains are right on top of the city, though. I don't see anything that looks like a city."
They rode a bit longer, picking through the rocky ground with care, until they spied a house way off in the distance.
"Let's ask them," Wolf said. "We'll just tell them we're lost."
The gravel road they took toward the dwelling was more rutted dirt than anything, and didn't look like it had been used much lately. Low hills, however, flanked the road on either side. And Lucas' bladder was reaching critical mass.
"The house is just around the corner," Petrus said, pointing to the corner of the adobe building, visible ahead.
"Look, guys," Lucas said. "I've got to, you know, take A leak. It can't wait. I'll catch up with you in a minute."
Lucas hopped off the steed and walked toward one of the rises, each footstep pure agony. Petrus shrugged and the others followed him down the road.
Once his business had been taken care of, he went back to the road, saw the 'steeds up ahead, in front of the adobe.
Then, parked beyond them, was a black van.
He halted as he recognized it, remembered who it belonged to.
Damien.
And the adobe house. It looked different in the daylight, and when Japhet had marched him out of there he hadn't been taking notes. Still, it was the same one.
He remembered the rotting meat and paint thinner, dirty mattress, and skulls. This is where they were keeping us.
Petrus had alre
ady dismounted, followed by Wenlann, and both of them went to the front door.
I've got to warn them. He forced himself to move, taking it one step at a time. Petrus and Wenlann were standing right in front of the adobe, but something was wrong. They had frozen in place, completely motionless, just outside the front door.
Someone was shouting, but he couldn't make out what was said, who it was. Wolf slowly dismounted, and alarmingly, raised his hands in the air, then clasped them over his head.
What's going on? Lucas stopped again. Now that Wolf was off the steed, he saw Damien holding the rifle, standing beside the van.
Must be some kind of elf devil spell shit, Lucas thought frantically, remembering Japhet Dhu and his involvement in this place. If they could move, they would.
So far, Damien hadn't seen him, and to keep it that way, he backed off, and looked for a roundabout way behind the van. There were several small hills of gray gravel; this place had once been a mining operation of some kind, but whatever they were digging up was long gone. The hills, each about the size and height of a long school bus, provided excellent cover as he crept around behind the adobe, and the van. He avoided a heap of scrap metal, which looked like it would clank if you even looked at it. Off to the side, separate from the scrap, was a half-buried piece of galvanized pipe. When he dug it out and knocked all the gray mud off, it was a little longer than his forearm.
Before he had time to talk himself out of it he climbed to the top of one of the hills. With any luck at all the guy with the gun would be facing the other way.
"I told you Satan would overcome!" a familiar voice shouted, much closer now. Lucas stopped to listen. "He sent me to claim you, and I promised him I would succeed! And now I am following through on that promise. Here," Damien shouted, then came a rattle, and a dink. Handcuffs. "Put those on. Now!"
Wolf mumbled something, unintelligible. Then the sickening ratcheting of the cuffs.
Lucas peered over the top of the hill. On the other side was a sheer face, against which the van had been hacked up. Below him Damien was standing next to the passenger's door, holding the rifle relaxed at waist level. The van's back doors were open, and on the ground just behind it lay a blood-covered body. It was Satanic Panic, his lifeless eyes staring straight up, as if gazing at something a million miles away. In his limp right hand was a bloody straight razor. The source of the blood, his throat, had been cut not once but several times.
Lucas crawled back, out of sight, fighting the sickness that tried to rise from his stomach. Stars, wild with vertigo; he thought he was going to fall over…
Then the symbol, the star in the circle, flashed in his mind as if branded by a red-hot iron.
Those who have used this symbol in the name of evil do not understand it, came Margot's words, from somewhere deep in his memory. It is a symbol of peace, of harmony, of love for other beings. Plant or animal, or spirit. It's been perverted by others.
He opened his eyes, and saw Damien, pointing the weapon at Wolf, his new friend.
It's been perverted by others. … he thought, and remembered the conversation all over again, with the witch in the glade. You must return to your home, and find your teacher. It may take a week, it may take a lifetime, but that is the way of things.
Lucas curled up as tightly as he could around the pipe, the weakness coming over him like the sudden onset of flu. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he was too weak to even reach up to it, to brush the salty water out of his eyes.
Then the drumbeat, the darkness, the fire.
Flames burning bright. The people dancing in loincloths if they wore anything at all. They leaped over it, clearing the flames or passed briefly through them. Some held drums to it, warming and tightening the heads, then returned to the circle pounding a rhythm that was the heartbeat of the planet.
"I can't let him…" Lucas whispered, shaking himself from the dream, vision, whatever the hell it was. The sickness was gone, and he felt rejuvenated.
Margot's voice returned, urgently and as clearly as if she stood right behind him.
"Your heart will tell you. As will the wind, the flowing river, and the crackling fire, and the wild things in the forest. These five things will tell you, if you listen."
Today my heart has told me plenty," he said softly, clutching the pipe closer. Wolf stood with his hands cuffed in front of him. He didn't move his head, but Lucas saw his eyes, and his eyes saw him.
Wolf is my teacher, he knew. If anything in the last day tells me this, it's what is happening right now…
The cue was obvious, but unexpected. Wolf groaned loudly and fell over, squirming on the ground as if he had been shot by something. Yet the rifle hadn't discharged. Hesitating, as if vaguely puzzled by Wolf's actions, Damien lowered the rifle until the barrel was touching the ground.
Now is the only time… Lucas knew, and with the pipe gripped in his right hand, jumped over the steep hillside.
In mid flight, he raised the pipe… the ground rushed at him as the pipe struck Damien, hard. Lucas dropped and rolled, came to a rest against the front wheel of the van.
Damien was on the ground, out cold. The rifle lay across him, and already Wolf was running toward them, his false malady now magically cured. Lucas reached the rifle before Wolf did, just in time to yank it from Damien, who was starting to wake up. He held it up by the barrel as if it were tainted with poison. It was a big assault rifle, with a clip sticking out of the stock. Shit! This is an AR-
"Where's the key to these?" Wolf demanded, holding up the handcuffs. When Damien didn't answer right away, he landed a kick in the side of his ribs, hard. "Where's the key!"
"It's… in here," Damien said groggily, reaching into a leather bag he wore on a strap.
It's not a key, Lucas thought, not liking the look Damien had as he reached for it. It was a look of victory. Lucas brought the rifle around and aimed it awkwardly at him, put his finger around the trigger.
At the first glimpse of the wooden grip and blue gun metal coming out of the bag, Lucas squeezed the trigger, and kept it squeezed.
The gun in the bag went off, once, into the ground between them. Damien's carcass bounced around on the ground as if it were having a seizure. Wolf ran like hell for cover. Once the rifle was emptied of its ordnance, Lucas could only think about how little recoil the thing had. Parts of the rifle were pretty hot now, so he dropped it on the ground.
Without really thinking he picked up the leather bag and looked into it. There was a key ring, with a small silver key hanging off it. The handcuff keys were in there after all, along with a snub nose revolver.
"Here," Lucas said, tossing Wolf the keys. He looked down at Damien, who wasn't moving very much. "Is he dead?"
Wolf undid the cuffs and tossed them on the ground beside Damien. That's a silly question," he replied, looking down at the perforated corpse.
Lucas turned away from what he had done, feeling nauseous. He stumbled as far away as he could before throwing up.
You did the right thing, Lucas told himself, wiping his mouth, but still having a hard time believing it. The others…
Wolf was with Petrus and Wenlann, who were still frozen in place. Their lack of motion was absolute; they looked like a photo still.
"There's some kind of field, thrown up around here," Wolf said. "If we can get them back, away from this place, we might be able to shake them out of it."
"Why isn't it freezing you?"
Wolf shrugged. "Guess it only freezes elves." He reached for and grabbed Petrus' arm, and pulled. The elf tipped over like a concrete statue, and with Lucas' help dragged him away from the house. Lucas felt him relax into their arms when they had covered a certain distance, and immediately he was on his feet.
"Was that gunshots?" he said, looking around wildly.
"Yep," Wolf said. "It's okay. The bad guys are gone. More or less." He was already going over to Wenlann; he had no trouble carrying her out of the field, and when she relaxed out of the paralysis,
he continued to hold her in his arms.
"You know, we've got to stop meeting like this," Wolf said, giving her a kiss. Petrus was over near the van, surveying the damage.
"You knew there was another dead kid over here didn't you?" he said.
"It's one of his people," Lucas said. "He's the one who got me into this thing in the first place."
Petrus looked up from beside the van. "What thing?"
"Satan worship," he said, having to spit the words out like something bitter.
Wenlann got to her feet with Wolf's help, then he entered the adobe cautiously. She held her hand up, as if feeling the field that had paralyzed them. "It starts about here. Dammit, this is Unseleighe work."
"It will fade with time. Their stuff always does," Petrus said. The elvensteeds had wandered a short distance away. "I'll go get our mounts."
Wolf came out of the adobe, looking pale. He was carrying a pair of boots and clothes that looked like they belonged to him, and Lucas remembered Wolf had been kept here too—for the brief time before Ha-Sowa showed up. "No one else is in there. Looks like they were doing human sacrifices."
"Hmmmm," Petrus said thoughtfully, holding their 'steed's reins. "No wonder the Unseleighe liked them."
Wenlann rubbed her arms, as if from a chill. "This place gives me the creeps."
After a moments reflection, Wolf said, "Come on, let's go. I've had enough of this happy horse shit."
Not a bad idea, Lucas thought, as they all mounted and started back down the gravel road. They didn't get very far when another man on horseback appeared, riding toward them. Petrus pulled Moonremere to a halt.
Right away, Lucas saw there was something unnatural yet familiar about the way the light reflected off him, as if he were only a clip from a film, superimposed over the landscape. Petrus also looked suspicious, but the glance he shared with Wenlann indicated he didn't know for sure what this was, either.
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