Aria in Ice (26 page)

We’d barely made it back to the stairwell
when the guys who’d gone to check the cars joined us.

Franz looked disgusted. “I cannot believe
this. The cars are dead. The batteries are too. In Corbin’ s Jeep.
In the car that Lily’s friends loaned to her. She and I were in
that one. But even in the motorcycle that Fritz was riding there is
no power.”

Shay brightened. “Fritz drives a cycle?
Cool.”

“Hush.” I told her quietly. “You can drool
later. And remember, this is a man who lost his brother a few days
ago. Not to mention there’s a certain baseball player back in
Manhattan who may be acting like an ass but as far as I know has
been nothing less than faithful.”

She nodded serenely and ignored my
less-than-subtle chiding. She addressed Franz. “So you’re saying
the car chargers not only are too dead for a cell phone charge but
the cars themselves won’t start? Did I get that right?”

“Yes.”

I stood. “Wait. How did Jozef get here
yesterday? Didn’t he have a car? Johnny, what about you?”

“I came out on the tram, then walked although
it was getting pretty nasty. I’m pretty sure that’s how Jozef got
here. He doesn’t own a car. So that’s a bust. Damn. Marta’s got to
get some help. I’m no doctor but I’m scared she could have internal
injuries. We can’t just wait around for the power to come back on
or for the roads to clear.”

For just a second I had to force back a
rising fit of hysterical giggles. Johnny had stated, “Not a
doctor.” Someone had once made the comment that everyone on a soap
is either a cop or a doctor. Johnny had dived into more occupations
as cop Gregory Noble than a reincarnation trainee but the one we
needed hadn’t been written into his scripts.

I was wrong. Johnny glanced up and caught my
eye. “However, that character you love so well did do a stint as a
medic in the Navy and I
did
do my research. So I’m not
totally useless.”

I nearly rolled my eyes in sheer disbelief
over the myriad of junk Johnny’d learned doing
Endless Time
.
But this was good. Any kind of medical training should help.

Franz added, “I can ski. Downhill, not
cross-country, but that should make no difference. If Veronika has
skis?”

Veronika had entered the now crowded
stairwell to hear Franz question. “No. No skis.”

She surveyed the people who were helpless to
aid her sister. And her eye fell on me. A curious gleam of hope
appeared. “Abb-ee?”

I crossed to her and put my arms around her.
“What can I do?”

“You can ride. Horses.”

“What?”

“Yes. You are from Texas, no? I overhear you
talk last night about El Paso when you try and cheer everyone up so
no one cries too much.”

“Uh—yeah, I’m from Texas but not everyone
from Texas rides.” I pursed my lips. “I did learn a bit during my
short stint on the soap opera and ages ago one summer. But I mean
‘a bit.’ Nothing like—well—Johnny.
(Who needed to stay with
Marta.)
I haven’t noticed any horses around here, though. Not
to mention there’s a major blizzard going out there which is not
great for visibility for rider nor horse.”

“But there iss horse at neighbor down the
hill. He iss gone for months and Marta and Trina,” her voice paused
then she continued with a definite catch in her throat, “my sisters
and I—we take care of horse for him. Did you pass by barn on way up
here yesterday?”

I tried to recall seeing anything resembling
a barn. My brain wouldn’t focus. Veronika took my hand. “No matter.
I tell you how to reach barn and you find it and you ride to Prague
and you bring back help for Marta, yes?”

The fact that snow was still falling at a
furious pace didn’t seem to bother Veronika. The fact that Prague
was a good forty-minute trip in nice weather in a great car didn’t
seem to have penetrated her thoughts. The fact that I’d never
ridden a horse through a snowstorm didn’t faze her belief that I
could do it. Abby the Super Equestrian. I could see it in her eyes.
Naturally, I agreed to try.

At least six different voices—all from real
human sources—began bitching at me not to even consider attempting
such a crazy stunt. I’d never make it. The horse would bolt in the
storm and the two of us would be lost. Even if I did manage to find
my way to Prague, it would be too late to help Marta. And on and
on.

They were all doubtless right. It was insane,
foolhardy, and probably just damn stupid. I looked at Veronika’s
face. Faith shown through her eyes as though she’d just witnessed
St. Agnes personally conduct the beginning of the Velvet
Revolution. I looked at Shay, who gave me a thumbs up. And I looked
at Johnny who could do everything, including ride a horse far
better than I could even imagine, but had to stay here for many
reasons, not the least being he had some medical training and could
help Marta—and guard her. It was up to me and for once in my life I
was going to do something brave.

It was funny. Once I’d made that decision,
the fear that had been smothering me for the last two days or more
disappeared. It could well come back in a day, an hour, or a
heartbeat, but for now that fear had been replaced by a tense
excitement that told me, ‘yes,’ I needed to stay cautious, but I
also needed to get on that horse and ride.

Veronika and Jozef managed to walk with me
the half-mile or so to the barn where a horse named
Yankee
Doodle
was standing up taking a nap. At first the entire crowd
had asked to make the trip, but someone needed to stay with Marta.
I’d stared at Johnny and tried a little silent communication. My
message came through. He and Shay were the annointed bodyguards.
They had to keep her warm and dry and be there when—if—she awoke.
Keep her safe and secure.

I knew and he knew and Shay knew and damn
well everyone knew that Marta hadn’t gotten up in the night for a
little after-séance snack, then tumbled down those stairs. To begin
with, her bedroom was in another wing and the kitchen was on the
main floor so there was no reason for her to have been gallivanting
around in either the east or north wings. Someone had pushed her.
Or coshed her at the bottom of the stairs then made it look as
though she’d fallen.

Shay needed to stay to guard Johnny. His
attention had to be focused on Marta, which cast Shay in the role
of watcher. Just in case someone decided to come sneaking in and
cosh Johnny.

I wanted to scream, “
Look, one of you is a
stinking murderer so it’s best that everyone stay to keep an eye on
everyone else”
but I kept quiet for fear my words would just
make the situation worse.

I went the diplomacy route. “There’s no need
for y’all to have to go tromping out in this snow to provide me an
escort service. If Veronika can just show me the barn, I’ll be
fine. Stay inside. Drink coffee. Keep warm.”

Jozef offered to walk with us and I agreed.
His warm and reassuring presence would help me quell the rising
terror that was just at the surface of my emotions.
Yankee
Doodle
would not be happy to meet a new rider who happened to
be quaking in her sneakers. A very new rider. The five or so
lessons in Colorado six years ago when I did the show
Will
Rogers Follies
for summer stock had not exactly produced a
champion Abby and the three extra lessons for “Vanessa Manilow” had
mainly been trotting around Central Park at a pace of about two
miles per hour. I smiled to myself, musing that I could have used
Auraliah Lee’s nice equestrian gear today to reassure the horse I
knew what I was doing. Horses sense fear and they don’t react well
to it. They damn sure don’t bond with a spooked rider. If I jumped
on the saddle without calming down,
Yankee Doodle
would have
every right to toss me on my butt before we left the barn.

I
was
provided with a new outfit for
my undertaking, dredged up from various closets and suitcases in
Kouzlo Noc
. Not up to the eccentric Aura Lee’s standards,
but practical. An overly large black turtleneck, my own black jeans
and sneakers, a black woolen scarf and black cap. I looked like one
of the
Klezmer Volny Rabin
nursing a sore throat.

The walk, which should have taken about ten
minutes, stretched to forty. The blizzard conditions had subsided,
but snow was still falling and the ground was icy so the three of
us werer forced to tread slowly and carefully in order to stay
upright. And the wind striking against us had other ideas about
that position. Skis were a nice option, but if the Duskovas had
owned a pair then Franz or Fritz, who’d also volunteered the
information that he was a racer would now be out here schussing or
slaloming or double poling or shoveling. Heck, Johnny, as Gregory
Noble, had gone undercover for a few episodes to play one of those
athletes in the Winter Olympics who ski and shoot. If provided with
the correct gear, he’d’ve been to Prague and back with the cavalry
by now.

These last thoughts brought me up against the
barn. Veronika opened the doors with a key bigger than the
dragonheads at
Kouzlo Noc
. The place was enormous, but only
housed the one valiant steed,
Yankee Doodle
. Mr. Cohan “who
owns the house and the horse, loves Americans,” Veronika had
informed me as we’d made the trek to his house. Apparently, Mr.
Cohan was currently soaking up the American culture in California
at Disneyland, which was why the Duskovas had been “horse-sitting.”
I cautiously approached
Yankee Doodle
, and gave him the fat
carrot provided from the Duskova kitchen, rubbed his neck and tried
to establish a unified relationship as best as I could within the
limited time I had before he and I sallied forth on our rescue
mission.

Jozef handed me a compass, explained the
directions for the fifth time
(Did I mention I’m not the world’s
greatest navigator, didn’t I?)
then hugged me. “Be safe, Abby.
We shall pray for your journey to be a successful one. God go with
you.”

Veronika didn’t say anything. She just hugged
me, tears in her eyes, and that was enough. I knew how important it
was that I not fail in bringing back help for Marta. One Duskova
had died yesterday; there needed to be joy brought back to this
family. If Marta died, I would call upon the colorful vocabulary
that hits me in times of real anger and spew out a few choice words
for Aura Lee and the Baron. His curse was supposed to have been
lifted sometime after midnight but so far I wasn’t seeing a lot of
evidence of peace and harmony restored.

I was helped to the top of the horse by
Jozef, who then held the heavy barn doors open so I could take off
in the storm while continuing to lean down and chat with
Yankee
Doodle
. I’m neither a real rider nor a horse-whisperer, but
everybody who ever read
Black Beauty
or watched
National
Velvet
knows you and the horse have to have a rapport,
especially in times of crisis, so the more
Yankee Doodle
and
I bonded, the better the chances of both horsey and girl actually
making it to Prague in one piece. It took me at least ten minutes
to get any kind of ‘feel’ for riding again but
Yankee Doodle
didn’t try to throw me or tease me by racing off toward a cliff so
it appeared I had a chance to survive this adventure somewhat
intact.

We had to go through a patch of forest before
we could get onto the main road leading back to the city. The snow
was blinding, the ground slushy and it was just damn cold out as
well. But the compass showed me I was headed in the right
direction, the snow had turned to simply snow, not sleet, and I was
wearing more layers than a Texas Seven-Tier Nacho Dip so I wasn’t
completely chilled. The horse understood that we had to weave
between the trees and not hit them head on and for a few minutes I
felt like I was a rodeo rider, zooming in and out of barrels,
dead-set on grabbing the ribbons off the tops of each one.

What comfort I’d felt for a few moments oddly
disappeared when we were well away from the trees and on open
ground. We’d even made it to what was normally a fast-moving
highway when all the fear and lack of confidence came wailing back
at me. The storm had picked up again. Snow wasn’t coming down in
nice heavy drifts as it had for the first half-hour of this jaunt.
Ice pellets were stinging both the horse and me, and the wind had
kicked up again to an extent where it was no longer safe to go any
faster than a walk. No trotting and definitely no galloping. At the
rate of movement, we’d be lucky to reach Prague for
Yankee
Doodle
to celebrate the Fourth of July.

I jumped off his back and began to lead him
for a while. It was too dangerous to try and ride with the
visibility as bad as it was and neither the horse nor I needed an
injury. I kept the compass out and figured at least I wasn’t lost.
Just covered in ice and snow and desperation. Every bad thing that
could possibly happen came flooding through my brain.

Marta could already be dead.
Yankee
Doodle
could slip and fall and we’d both be frozen by the time
anyone was able to find us. Then we’d be dead. We’d actually get to
Prague and find a police station but it would have been hit by an
avalanche and they’d be dead. Or the one man left would have a car
that wouldn’t start. The car would be dead. Or it would start, but
that one man would be dead and telling me that the ambulances were
all in use for a crowd of vampires who’d bitten all the patrons of
Club Krev.
And gotten sick because of the drink called Teeth
of Blood.

Okay. It was really friggin’ cold because I’d
started hallucinating—assuming these weren’t Dumas premonitions. I
got back up on the horse, then screamed. I’d dropped the compass. I
jumped back down and spent a few futile moments digging through
snow and ice. And, then, miraculously, I found it. It was lying
next to the large rock that had coincidentally managed to
completely smash it.