Armageddon's Children (36 page)

He did not know for how long or to how many he did this; he lost track of time and numbers and simply kept pressing ahead. The faces came and went in a wash, so many he remembered, so many he had known. He said good-bye to each as the fire consumed them, facing down the emotions that welled up within him. What he felt was a cold certainty, a hard-edged understanding of what he was doing to himself by banishing them. He was losing his past; he was giving up his memories. With the disappearance of each white face, he let go of a little more of what he remembered.

He understood now that he was the one who had summoned them, perhaps without realizing it, perhaps with help from whatever lived in these mountains. The darkness was his, the past carried on his shoulders, memories of the dead, of those he had known and cared about and could not forget. They weighed on him; they haunted him. He had kept them shut away until tonight, then set them free. There would be no peace for him until they were locked away again, this time for good.

The mass of white faces thinned to only a few. His brother and little sister were before him now, their blank stares sad and lost in a way he could hardly stand. He reached for them and touched them fearlessly, letting the terrible sensation of their presence wash over him as he sent the fire of the staff through their empty forms until they slowly faded away. Dead and gone, he realized, never to return. Already, their faces were so vague in his mind that he could not reconstruct their features.

When he stood alone finally, the darkness that had blocked the pass had dissipated entirely. Nothing remained but rock and cold and black night. He stood looking at nothing, and then turned back to the AV. His father and Michael stood beside it, white and ephemeral, the last of his ghosts. They were staring not at him, but at something beyond him, something he could not see. He did not hesitate, but walked over to where they waited and touched each in turn with his magic, saying good-bye. They did not speak to him or look at him. They simply stood before him as if awaiting the inevitable. Then the staff swept through them, and they, too, were gone.

In the aftermath, he thought about what the Spiders had told him. He did not know if their mountain spirits were entities that had given life to his ghosts or if they were manifestations of the ghosts themselves, but he had been wrong to disparage them. He had not believed they existed, but now he understood that they did. Not everything that was real in this world could be seen.

He looked around for other ghosts, but the last of them had disappeared. He could feel his memory of their faces slipping away. Although he tried, he could not seem to hold on to it. Perhaps he would remember a few of them, the ones he had known best, but most were gone forever. He had banished them with the Word’s magic, and he knew that by doing so he had made it impossible for them to return.

Their absence left an ache in his heart, a void so huge that he could not fathom how he could endure it. But when he tried to dispel that ache, he found he could not. For an agonizing moment, he was eight years old again and had just lost his family for a second time.

Only this time, he discovered, there were no tears to be shed. As he stared out into the darkness and the sweep of the land, his eyes were dry.

N
OON WAS LESS
than two hours away, and Hawk was thinking about who he would take with him when he went to his meeting with Tiger. Midday today was the designated time for delivery of the pleneten, and while Hawk was anxious to get the serum into Tiger’s hands so that he could help Persia, he was troubled by everything that had happened over the past few days. He might have been willing to dismiss both their encounter with the dying Lizard and the Weatherman’s discovery of the nest of dead Croaks as all-too-familiar occurrences in a world where death and dying were commonplace. But Candle’s vision of something bad coming their way, coupled with their chilling experience in the warehouse basement, had left him convinced that things were changing in the city and not for the better.

So he spent more time than he normally would considering who to take and who to leave behind, not wanting to put anyone at risk when he already knew there was no avoiding it. In the end, he settled on taking Panther and Bear and leaving the rest behind with Cheney. If they carried prods and viper-pricks, the three of them would be safe enough. The meeting would take place on the open streets and in daylight and would be over quickly. All that was needed was for him to deliver the pleneten and return home. Then he could begin deliberating anew about how to persuade Tessa to leave the compound and come with him.

But he had no sooner come to a decision than Owl appeared at his elbow. Her eyes were troubled as she took him aside where the others could not hear.

“River is gone again. She slipped away right after breakfast. I thought she had gone to retrieve water from the roof, but Candle says she went out into the streets. She’s been gone for more than an hour.”

Hawk glanced over at Candle, who was cleaning up the breakfast dishes. “River didn’t tell her where she was going? She has no idea?”

Owl shook her head. “It’s the same as before. She goes out on her own and won’t tell anyone what she is doing.” She paused, and one hand rested lightly on Hawk’s wrist. “I think you’d better go after her this time. I think we have to find out what she is doing.”

He almost said no. He almost said that he already had something he had to do and shouldn’t be wasting his time chasing after an irresponsible child who couldn’t be trusted to do what she had been told to do and who lied on top of it. But he recognized a voice he didn’t care for in that kind of thinking, a voice that spoke out of frustration and impatience and not out of caring. Owl was clearly worried about River, and he knew that Owl did not worry easily.

He nodded. “All right, I’ll find her.”

He glanced around the room, rethinking his earlier plans. He would have to take Cheney if he hoped to track River. That meant he would have to leave Owl and the little ones with someone else and send someone besides himself to the meeting with Tiger.

He settled on Bear to stand watch in the underground. He could rely on Bear to keep everyone safe—Bear, so steady and unflappable, never acting out of haste or panic. He wished he had a dozen Bears in his family, but families don’t work like that.

That meant Panther would have to take the pleneten to Tiger. There was no one else old enough or smart enough to send out alone to a meeting like this. It was chancy, sending Panther. He despised the Cats, and Tiger in particular. The source of his dislike was not entirely clear to Hawk, but it didn’t make it any less potent or potentially volatile.

He walked over to Panther, telling himself to keep calm. “There’s been a change of plans. You’re going to take the pleneten to Tiger without me.”

Panther didn’t exactly glare at him, but his displeasure was clearly reflected on his dark features. “Why do
I
got to do this, Bird-Man? Why not someone else?”

“Don’t you think you can handle it?” Hawk pressed.

Now Panther did glare. “I can handle anything, and I can do it better than the rest. You know that.”

Hawk nodded. “I do know it. That’s why you have to be in charge. I can depend on you to be ready for whatever happens. Take Chalk and Fixit with you. For a show of strength.”

“You think those pussycats would try something with me?” Panther sneered. “Like to see them try. Like to see them even think about it. Anyway, I don’t need Fixit and Chalk. I can do it alone.”

“You know the rules. No one goes out alone to a meeting. If you don’t want Chalk and Fixit, take Sparrow.”

“Huh! Don’t want nothin’ to do with Sparrow. Lemme take Bear. At least he takes up some space.”

Hawk shook his head. “Bear has to stay here and look out for the others. I need Cheney with me.”

“For what? What you doin’ that’s so important, taking Cheney away now?”

“I’ll tell you later. Just get the pleneten to Tiger. I know you don’t like him, but we made an agreement and we stick to our agreements. We keep our word.”

“I know that. But I don’t have to like it.”

Hawk nodded. “Just get it done. Take Chalk and Fixit with you. The pleneten’s wrapped in brown paper in the cold storage.”

Panther shook his head and made a snorting noise. “Frickin’ Cats.”

Hawk moved over to the storage locker, selected a prod, pocketed two of the viper-pricks, and slipped on his heavy-weather jacket. Owl wheeled over to where he was standing and watched him get ready.

“What do I do when I find her?” he asked quietly.

“You find out what’s wrong, you try to help her make it right, and then you bring her home.”

He looked at her wise, cheerful face and caring eyes. Her smile told him that she was only reaffirming what he already knew. She gave him such confidence just by her presence that it was impossible for him to measure its importance. She always knew what needed doing and how it could be done. Once, he had thought of her as crippled and helpless. He didn’t think of her like that anymore. He thought of her as the strongest among them. Of all of them, she was the most indispensable, the most necessary to their survival.

“I won’t be long,” he promised.

“Be as long as you need to be,” she told him. “River needs to feel safe again. I don’t think she feels that way now.”

She was saying that River needed to know that she could tell them anything, that she didn’t need to hide whatever it was she was doing. Hawk wasn’t sure Owl was right, but he had sense enough to keep quiet and hope she was.

He called to Cheney and went out the door and up the stairs to the streets. The day was clear and bright, the sky a blue dome empty of all but the wispiest of clouds. He glanced up at it, squinting despite himself, the brightness unexpected and somehow out of place. The world shouldn’t look so clear when life felt so cloudy.

A sudden gust of wind brought him back to reality. The air was chilly and biting and sharp with cold. He hunched down into his jacket and called Cheney over to him. Taking out an old T-shirt that belonged to River, he let the big dog sniff it, and then told him to track. Cheney never hesitated. He wheeled away and started down the street, big head swinging from side to side, muzzle lowered in concentration. Hawk followed, eyes shifting steadily to the darkened doorways and alleys between the buildings they passed, keeping watch. He knew they would find River. He’d had Cheney track things before; once he had the scent, the big dog always found what he was searching for.

They moved down First Avenue toward the center of town, and then Cheney abruptly turned left toward the waterfront. Together, the boy and the dog made their way through the rubble and along the cracked pavement toward the oily shimmer of Elliott Bay, its surface glaring sharply in the bright sunlight. A pair of Spiders appeared in a doorway and disappeared back inside instantly. Hawk and Cheney continued on. A gull lay dead on the street in front of them, its graceful form broken, its sleek feathers matted with dirt and blood. There was nothing to show how it had died. Hawk glanced at it, thought about flying things brought low, and looked away.

Cheney went straight down to the piers, never deviating, working his way ahead at a steady pace, shadow-dark even in the bright sunlight. Hawk stayed close, cautious and alert. The wind blew off the bay like the coming of winter, bringing tears to his eyes as he squinted against its sharpness. The smells of decay filled his nostrils, causing him to duck his face deep into the collar of his coat in an effort to escape them. He found himself wondering if the waters of the bay would ever recover. He guessed that in time, if left alone, nature would find a way to heal them. But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure there was any healing to be found.

Cheney stopped suddenly, freezing in place, hackles raised. Hawk stopped with him, eyes sweeping the streets in all directions. Then he caught sight of movement on the waterfront south, down by the cranes. A cluster of dark figures wearing what looked like red armbands were working their way through the trash, headed away. Another tribe, one he did not recognize. Some came from outside the city to forage, tribes that lived in the hills behind the city, in what were once the residential communities. Some were very dangerous, as bad as the Croaks. One had moved into the city a year or so back, hard-eyed street kids with no compunction about killing. It would have been bad for the rest of them if the group hadn’t made the mistake of angering one of the Lizard communities. When it was over, only the Lizards were left.

He waited until the cluster of armbanded figures had disappeared from view, then urged Cheney ahead again. They walked out onto the flats at the foot of James Street and toward the docks. Cheney was sniffing the ground again, returned to his task. He swung south, and then stopped, casting about in some confusion. A moment later, he started away again, headed north toward the remains of the aquarium. Hawk found himself wondering what River was doing down here. This was where Sparrow had found her nearly four years ago, an orphan rummaging through the buildings in search of food.