Moonheart (65 page)

Tucker sat by the door that opened onto the stairs leading down. His gun lay on his lap and he divided his attention between the stairs, what Kieran was saying, and cleaning an ugly gash on Maggie's forearm. Blue and Sally sat side by side on a couch, holding hands, attentive. The biker glanced from time to time at Sara, who knelt beside a silver wolf, one hand on his back. He'd seen her start when the beast came up to her, but now they seemed like old friends. Maybe they'd both lost something today. There'd been two silver-furred wolves in the House. There was only one of them now.

Sam's body had been left downstairs— he'd died before he even hit the ground, Tucker'd said. Jamie'd had to be half carried upstairs. They'd put him in a big easy chair and there he sat now, incommunicado. Blue glanced back at Sara. "What do we do now?" he asked aloud. "We're not going to survive another attack."

If we do not slay Mal'ek'a,
Ur'wen'ta signed in fingerspeech,
we will not live to see the coming dawn.

Blue nodded. Great. All they had to do was go down there and finish off this demon or whatever the hell it was, and off they could go. What could be simpler? Only half of them were dead or missing, and there just happened to be a House full of tragg'a as a complication. He wondered then about the fate of the others who hadn't made it to the tower with them. He didn't really care what had happened to Gannon and his goon; if the tragg'a'd got them it would just save him the trouble of having to deal with them. Old Tom Hengwr had gotten them into this, so he could get himself out before Blue was going to worry about him. It was Fred and Dr. Traupman that concerned him now. They were probably dead as well by now, but he couldn't be sure. And if they were out there, cut off and alone...

"Where is this Mal'ek'a?" Blue asked, using sign language as he spoke the words aloud.

Ur'wen'ta shrugged. He was about to reply when Jamie spoke up, startling them all. "He is in the east wing. We... I...don't know what he's doing." Jamie's brow furrowed as he concentrated. "It's hard to see. It's so dark there..."

Tucker and Blue exchanged glances. The inspector lifted his eyebrows questioning, but Blue shrugged. "Jamie," he said. "Can you see Fred? Or anybody else?"

"Gannon and Chevier are dead." Jamie's voice was hard as he spoke their names. "Tom is... we... I can't see Tom. Dr. Traupman is dead. Fred is in the garden."

"Alive?"

"Alive."

"Okay," Blue said. "This Mal'ek'a's in the east wing. So do we wait, or do we go after him?"

Tucker cleared his throat. "Ah... Jamie," he said. "Do you see any of the... wolfmen?"

"They are prowling through the House— mostly on the ground floor."

"How close?"

"There are many in the corridor below."

Tucker stared down the stairs, listening hard. He could hear them now, shuffling around down there. Maggie moved aside and he picked up his gun. He glanced back at Jamie. Something had happened to Tams that was more than just getting beaten up by Gannon. It was weird how all these "powers" kept popping up out of the woodwork. Was Blue going to sprout wings next? Christ, was he?

"Hold it," Tucker said suddenly. "There's something on the stairs."

Blue was on his feet and across the room in an instant, the gun he'd given Sally in his big hand. The stock of the Weatherby had been broken earlier and he hadn't gotten around to rigging something else to fit it yet.

"That's no monster," he said. "It's Thomas Hengwr!"

Kieran arose, his pulse drumming. Blue was down the stairs, helping the old man up. His clothes hung in ribbons from his back and were wet with sweat and blood, and his eyes had a haunted look to them. But at least he was alive, Kieran thought. He helped Tom up the last few steps and settled him on the couch beside Sally. Ha'kan'ta and Ur'wen'ta exchanged glances as they watched the old man enter. They'd reached out with their sen'fer'sa, but there was nothing there to touch.

"How else could he escape Mal'ek'a's detection?" Ur'wen'ta murmured, but he looked troubled.

Tom looked around the room. "Kieran?" he asked as his gaze touched his apprentice's face. "Is it truly you? Thank all the gods that live, you're unharmed!"

"What happened to you?" Blue asked. "You've been out cold for about two days."

"Two days?"

Blue nodded. "You showed up all bloody and battered in Jamie's study two days ago and were dead to the world except for muttering a few words now and again. What gives?"

"Never mind that," Tucker said. "Can you kill him?"

"Kill...?"

"Mal'ek'a," Kieran said.

"What is it anyway?" Blue asked.

Tom sighed. He passed a hand across his brow and seemed to grow smaller as he sat there on the couch.

"He is evil incarnate. And no, I cannot kill him. I am too weak. There is not enough power in this room to even..."His voice trailed off as his gaze lit on Sara. He looked down at her hand. Taliesin's ring glittered, gold and beckoning. "Gods?' he cried. "There is hope! We have the bard's ring."

Sara looked up as though just aware of Tom's presence. She recognized him from his infrequent visits to The Merry Dancers, and more recently from the photograph that Tucker had shown her. With an effort, she lifted her thoughts from her sorrow and reached across to Kieran's mentor with her taw— an automatic gesture now, she realized. She met the same nothingness that the rathe'wen'a had experienced when Tom first entered the room.

"What are you?" she asked. "I can see you with my eyes, but there's nothing there for my taw to touch."

Tom looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded with understanding.

"I cannot let my defenses slip for a moment," he explained. "Mal'ek'a is hunting me. If I let my guard down, he will be upon us in moments. We need time to plan our attack, to prepare. For with the ring, we have a chance."

"Let your guard down for a minute. Mal'ek'a's clear across the House."

Oh, Christ! Blue thought. Don't start being difficult again. He tried to catch Ur'wen'ta's eye, succeeded, signed:

Help me convince her not to be a hindrance.

"Are you mad?" Tom said. "We have a chance. Would you throw it away?"

"I don't trust you," Sara said.

Blue's heart sank at that, sank further when Ur'wen'ta indicated that he would not help him in this.

"Sara," Blue began.

"What do we know about him?" Sara asked, turning to the biker. "He's the reason we're in this mess in the first place."

Tom's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

"All he's done," Sara continued, "is bring harm to everything I care for. Jesus Christ, Blue! For all I know he
is
the problem. All I'm asking is for him to show a little faith— that's all."

"You don't understand," Tucker said, taking a step towards her.

Sara turned to the rathe'wen'a. "What do you feel when you reach out to him?" she asked Ha'kan'ta.

"Nothing, Little-Otter."

Sara blinked, hearing Mayis's pet name for her on Ha'kan'ta's lips. Then she nodded. Why not? Ha'kan'ta was Mayis's granddaughter. "Will you stand by me?" she asked.

"What're they saying?" Tucker asked Kieran.

Kieran shook his head. He waited to hear what Ha'kan'ta would say.

"No one will force you to give up your ring against your will," the rathe'wen'a said.

Kieran opened his mouth to protest, then paused. He looked from Tom to Ha'kan'ta. Suddenly his loyalties were being divided. He loved them both. But Tom had been wrong— so very wrong— once already.

"What's so important about the ring?" he asked Tom.

"With it, Mal'ek'a will be unstoppable. Used against him— used properly against him— and it will be the means of his defeat."

Sara swallowed. What if she was wrong? She was running on tension now, following her intuition. She had no reason to suspect Tom of anything. On the other hand, she suspected him of everything. He'd spent the better part of his life hunting down the man she'd come to love. But if the ring had to be used against Mal'ek'a...

"I'll use it against him," she said.

"Don't play the fool," Tom said sharply. "It must be wielded by one who understands its use. Please." He turned to the others. "Convince her. It is our only hope. With the ring I can defeat Mal'ek'a. Without it we are doomed."

"Give him the ring," Tucker said.

Blue frowned. He wanted to stand by Sara, but she'd proved that she wasn't running on all cylinders. Though that wasn't quite fair. He was judging her recent actions by the person he'd known. Not by who she was now. She was changed now, older somehow. Stronger. And the Sara he'd known hadn't been able to call up fire with her hands either.

"Ease up," he told Tucker.

"Ease up? For Christ's sake, Blue! We're running out of time. Now she either gives him the ring, or we take it from her and give it to him ourselves."

Blue looked from Tucker to Sara. He saw her jaw tighten, glanced at her fingers for a telltale trace of flickering. Her hands were balled up into fists. And— was that magefire or the ring glinting?

"Kieran!" Ha'kan'ta said suddenly. "Why do we argue amongst ourselves when we have a common foe?"

Before he could reply, Blue turned to Tom and asked:

"How come you're okay all of a sudden when a few hours ago you were out like a light? We couldn't've roused you if we'd let a bomb off under you."

Tom closed his eyes wearily, then opened them to look directly into Blue's. "Do I look 'all right' to you?"

"I'm tired of screwing around," Tucker said. "We've got a chance to hit the enemy. Let's use it. Or else..."

"Or else what?" Blue demanded.

Tucker started to lift his gun and Blue mirrored the action with his own weapon. Before either of them could bring their guns to bear, Ur'wen'ta loosed a pale light from his hands that knocked the weapons to the floor. The two turned to face the old shaman— a threat plain in Tucker's face, Blue's features uncertain. The old Indian shook his head and reached for Sara's shoulder.

"If you will allow me to speak through you?" he asked in the language of the rathe'wen'a.

Sara hesitated, then reached out with her taw. The old shaman's sen'fer'sa, his own taw, met hers openly. She heard the drumming that never stilled inside him, knew that this was somebody she could trust. She reached out with her hand and the old man spoke through her, taw to taw, the words coming from her mouth.

"My name is Ur'wen'ta and I am of the drummers-of-the-bear. Will any here deny me my right to speak?" He paused for a moment, then continued. "The test that is asked for is not asked lightly. I, and my people, demand the same, else we will leave you now. You," he said to Tom, "have nothing to fear. We will shield your presence from Mal'ek'a. He need never sense you. We are drummers— not children who play at the craft."

For a long moment there was silence, then Tom sighed.

"I agree to the test," he said. "I have nothing to hide from you. I fear only that your cloak of hiding will fail to shield me from Mal'ek'a's gaze. But if a test is needed that we might save ourselves, then I agree to it. Only in this do I warn you: Mal'ek'a is more powerful than you might imagine. I truly fear that he will strike at you through me when I let my defenses fall."

"Are we so much weaker than you, Toma'heng'ar? We are four— five if we include your craftson. Shall we fail where you succeed?"

"I have warned you," Tom said. "If you fail, we are all dead."

"Jesus Christ." Tucker said. "We don't have time to play these games. Blue, use a little common sense. Help me!"

Blue looked pointedly down at their guns. Maggie took the Inspector's arm, felt his tension.

"It's out of your hands," she said softly. "You're not in charge, Tucker. You're not responsible for what happens here anymore. No more than any of us are. I say let them test him."

That was the problem, Tucker realized as she said it. He was used to being in charge, being responsible. But here, he was out of his depth. He didn't even have Traupman to help him make sense of it all. Traupman. Christ! "Okay," he said, moving aside. "Do what you want."

Tom nodded and stood, offering his hand. The rathe'wen'a moved forward. One stood by the door, looking down the stairs, but was joined with her drum-kin through their sen'fer'sa. The other three surrounded Sara and Tom.

"Kieran?" Ha'kan'ta asked.

He wanted to refuse, to have nothing to do with this test of his mentor, but knew he couldn't. He stepped forward, let his taw join their sen'fer'sa. Drums appeared at the belts of the rathe'wen'a and their sound filled the room with a resonating rhythm. Sara suppressed a shiver and reached out with her right hand. Tom shook his head.

"The hand of your heart," he said.

She let the one hand fall and lifted the other. She remembered what had happened when she'd touched Kieran. It wasn't the same with the rathe'wen'a or Taliesin. They followed a different path, she supposed. She wasn't sure she could stand sharing taws with this strange little man. He had been her enemy— or at least her lover's enemy. She didn't know if she could bear what she'd find inside him. Then Tom's hand closed around her own, closed around her ring hand, around Taliesin's ring, and she felt a darkness come swelling across her mind.

"Now it is mine," a gravelly voice said through Tom's lips, and a hiss of amusement followed the words.

The blood in Sara's veins went cold. She stared at Tom, but it was no longer Kieran's mentor that stood there. This was a darker Thomas Hengwr, a shadow that wore the shape of the monster from her dream. She tried to cry out, but her voice had died, had been stolen away. She pulled at her hand, but the muscles of her arm would no longer obey her commands.

"I needed only its touch," Mal'ek'a said. "I will wear your hand about my neck in memory of this gift you have given me."

It took Jean-Paul the better part of fifteen minutes to reach home. He parked his VW and hurried back to Bank Street on foot. The situation was worse than it had appeared on the TV. Crowds blocked the traffic on Bank trying to get a glimpse, sirens and police loudspeakers roared, and there was a general hubbub that fluttered between panic and confusion. It took him another ten minutes to work his way through the mass. When he finally reached the makeshift barriers that were set up along the entrance to the park, he had to vie with television and newspaper news crews for attention from the guards.