Worlds Apart (17 page)

“You mean stay here?” Tina shook
her head. “I can't do that. I have patients who need me. I've been
gone too long as it is.” She glanced at Windblood, who stood
leaning against her desk. “Can I come back occasionally to work
with her? There is so much I need to learn.”

“I think it's essential that you
do.” Windblood stood straight, jaw tight and fingers tapping the
desk behind her as she gazed at Shandari. She turned to Tina. “I
can take you back, if you're ready. I'd like to know what you will
tell your people regarding Mr. Ruth.”

Tina sighed. “Once the quarantine
is lifted, I can tell them he went to a hospital in Portland. I've
been after him to do that for several months now. That will at
least buy us some time and won't raise any questions. But what
about the murderer? How do we protect ourselves from him if no one
knows he's there, or that he has killed?”

“That's my job,” Windblood said.
“I already have agents looking for him, and I have agents assigned
to guard your town, although you will not see them. I will stay in
touch with you, if you are willing. You can let me know if you see
anybody strange around. And Tina….” she hesitated.

“What?” Tina noticed the use of
her first name. Until now, Windblood had kept things
formal.

“If, as you work with Shandari and
learn more about your child, and about us... I hope you change your
mind about Clive.” Windblood raised her hands to her face, as if to
hide the sudden emotion it showed. “A human child. A child that
lives
, and does not kill the mother. Right now, you cannot
know what this would mean to him. I just ask you to remain open to
the possibility.”

Tina swallowed against an urge to
cry. Or scream in frustration.

“I don't know,
Captain
. I
need time. I intend to take it.”

“I understand.”

Tina stood, but Shandari stopped
her with a touch. “How are you faring against the illness in your
town?”

“It appears to be running its
course.” Tina lifted a shoulder, blinking rapidly against burning
eyes. “No new cases overnight, no deaths in two days.” She stared
at Shandari. “How do you know about the illness? I never mentioned
it.”

Shandari's mouth opened, but she
glanced at Windblood instead of speaking. Windblood stepped
forward. “We've been watching your area because of the portal
activity,” she said.

Tina heard the lie. “It came from
here, didn't it? That strange parasite… it's one of yours. Did the
werewolf bring it?”

Windblood tilted her head and Tina
knew she was going to lie again. She jabbed a finger into the
taller woman's chest. “You knew. You knew we had a… a Kaarmaneshian
disease, and you did nothing to help.” Shaking, she stepped closer
to Windblood, her finger jabbing again. “Why? You could have sent
someone incognito. You could have helped. People have been
dying
.” She choked on her words.

Shandari stood with a hand
covering her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Was it
because of Tina's accusation, or because she'd let the cat out of
the bag? Windblood didn't move. She stared down at Tina, accepting
the punishing finger.

“My superiors forbade it, Doctor.
The rules governing travel to your world are very strict, and that
parasite is one of the reasons. We've watched your world, and our
leaders felt your medical science could handle the disease without
our help. I'm sorry, though. I really am, Doctor.”

“Sorry?” Tina shouted, visions of
the dead clouding her sight. “God damn you, what good does sorry
do? Just one person, that's all. Someone to give us a hint of what
it was, how to treat it, how to eliminate it. If we'd known
earlier, no one would have died.”

Shandari spoke up. “Even with our
knowledge, the treatment would not be that fast, Tina. You are
right, we could have helped. But some of your people would still
have died. It's a vicious disease. Fortunately, it is short-lived,
especially in the Flatlands.”

Tina turned to the healer, her jaw
set in a hard line.

“You are going to tell me all
about it right now. Its characteristics, its life cycle, its
pathogenics, everything. I want to know how to eliminate it from
our water and soil and from people's bodies. If you have medicine
for it, you're going to give it to me. Start talking.”

Without waiting for Windblood's
permission, Shandari did.

Chapter 19

The moon glared down at Clive as
he stepped out of his tent just before dawn. He kept his eyes on
his feet as he moved to stoke the fire, and set the coffee pot on
the rock he'd placed in the center. The forest was silent and he
found himself wishing for the song of a bird. He heard them
sometimes in town, when there were enough other people to mask his
aura. He knew birds always sang in the morning. Unless a werewolf
was around.

Even through the cold, he felt the
moon's heat on his neck. It was almost full. He sighed and lifted
his head, gazing into the trees, counting the hours. With no portal
nearby, he'd need about three hours to reach the nearest enclave.
That left most of the day for more tracking.

The fire caught at last, and Clive
stood, keeping his back to the moon. According to Sheriff Nancy's
informant—a pixie, even more disgusting than most of them— he'd
find his goblin somewhere in that forest. Others too, perhaps. He
hitched his jacket closer to his ears, trying to scratch the
warning itch that tickled him. There was no doubt he was walking
into a trap. It's what Magger did, after all—hunted werewolves.
Even if these goblins weren't criminals, they'd still have reason
to kill him.

Of course, if they weren't
criminals, he'd never be looking for them.

~~

The moon vanished at last, sinking
below the horizon a few minutes after the sun rose. Even though its
power still gnawed at him, Clive felt lighter now that it was gone.
He changed into camouflage and rubbed his face with wet soil. He’d
left his equipment at the campsite, except for weapons. He checked
them now: the taser was charged and tucked into its holster, he had
a knife where he could reach it, and a switchblade ready in his
pocket. A garrote hung from the holster belt, along with handcuffs
and chains. His walking stick doubled as a quarterstaff, and
tripled as a spear. He'd modified it to conceal a blade in the end,
which would flip out with a twist of the stick.

He pushed through the forest
litter, keeping the path to his left, content to catch an
occasional glance of it. According to his informant, the path led
to the goblins’ hunting cabin.

“Always there for the full moon,”
the pixie had told him, not bothering to hide his glee at
tormenting Clive with the news. “There’re always a few weres who
don't report to an enclave. In a good month, they can bring in two
or three hides.”

Clive paused in his hike at the
top of a hill, observing a thin column of smoke rising from the
trees a few miles away. This had to be the cabin. He could smell
the goblins from here. Touching the nearest knife for reassurance,
he headed downhill.

~~

Forty minutes later, he paused
about a hundred yards from the cabin, sinking to his hands and
knees. Smoke rose from the chimney, but no sound drifted from the
building. His breath slowed as he reached with all his senses to
feel the forest around him. These goblins hunted werewolves. They
had to have ways of masking their presence, or they'd never be able
to catch anyone.

What was their secret?

With the moon just a few hours
from full, Clive’s stride had deteriorated into stiff jerks. He
still covered a great deal of ground, but his joints ached, and an
occasional spasm stabbed his guts. His eyes saw farther, and his
ears picked up the slightest sounds. His sense of smell was hyper,
something he regretted this close to goblins. He slipped through
the trees, ready to attack or defend.

Perhaps that was how they did it.
By saturating the area with their scent, a were would not be able
to pinpoint their location. Clive sighed to himself.
Damn them,
anyway. I’m running out of
…

He went as still as prey in sight
of a predator. A goblin stood just fifty feet ahead, near the back
of the cabin. The bandage covering his head hinted that he was one
of Magger's friends from Poentreville. Clive shifted the
quarterstaff. Listening for any other goblins, he crept closer,
pausing at the clearing. Twenty feet or so remained to cross, with
no sheltering trees. The goblin would see and hear Clive well
before he reached him.

He’d have to move fast. Clive took
a deep breath and raced through the clearing, holding the
quarterstaff out, aiming for the goblin's chest. He just had to
knock him down.

The goblin turned as Clive reached
him, but he didn't have time to move. The staff caught right under
the armpit, lifting him a few feet off the ground. Clive fell
forward from the impact, dropping the staff to catch himself. He
rolled, landing a kick on the goblin's leg before rising to his
knees and jerking his prisoner over onto his back.

The goblin howled, slashing
Clive's face with long fingernails, his feet landing vicious kicks.
Clive rammed head-first into the goblin's stomach, then stood to
flip him over and pull his arms behind his back.

Something hit him in the back with
a stinging blow. Then another one, and another, followed by yells
from the forest.

“Get away from him, you fucking
were! Drop him, now! You're surrounded!”

Clive dragged the goblin to his
feet, turning to hold him in front of him. A hail of rocks hit both
of them, as two more goblins raced toward them, gathering rocks as
they came. Clive recognized Magger just as the goblin he held
jabbed an elbow into his groin. Clive yelled in fury, pulling him
into a headlock.

“Fuck! Lay off, or I'll kill him!”
He'd drawn his closest knife, holding it against the goblin's
throat, and making sure Magger and his friend saw it. “Just back
off. I'm Portal Enforcement, and I have some questions. Everyone
just settle down, and we'll get through this without anyone getting
hurt. You got it?”

The one in his arms held still,
shaking a little against the knife. The other two paused, but did
not drop their rocks.

“Your boss let me go, fair and
square,” Magger sneered. “And there's no portals around here for
you to investigate. You're on my turf now, you lying were, and I
promise, you're not getting out of here alive.”

“You know I have the authority,”
Clive said. “So drop the rocks, and…” A sharp pain filled his head,
and the world went black.

~~

His own moaning woke him. He
swallowed against the sound, opening his eyes to stare at a steel
floor. When he could focus again, he saw the steel floor led to
steel bars.

A stick poked him. He suppressed
the growl that rose in his throat, and sat up, made a dizzy snatch
at the stick and missed.

“Fuck off,” he said, holding a
hand to his head in an effort to keep the world still. His hand
came away sticky with blood. He noticed he was naked. They’d taken
his clothes.

“So you're awake.” The voice was
high and nasal, grating along Clive's spine. “Good to know that
last rock didn't kill you.”

Clive sighed, moving his hand
enough to glare up at a goblin—not one he'd been fighting—standing
a few feet away. Clive blinked in a vain attempt to clear his
vision. His captor was Nottum Grimman, Sheriff Nancy's “unpleasant
character.”

The cage was not big enough for
Clive to stand up, but he didn't feel capable of doing that yet,
anyway. “If you have a sane bone in your body,” he said, “you'll
let me out of here really quick.”

“I will? How's that?” Grimman
poked him with the stick again.

Clive ignored it and lifted his
arm, glancing up in fury when he realized his wrist was bare as
well. “You have my strap, rat-face? Did you read it, rat-face? You
know what you're dealing with? RAT-FACE?”

Clive's strap appeared in
Grimman's hand, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the goblin
tossed it up and down in studied nonchalance. He fixed Clive with
one eye and a grin. “I read it. Magger vouched for you, too. We've
got a bona-fide werewolf portal enforcer on our hands. It's a
first.”

Clive leaned against the bars
behind him. His head hurt and it was hard to stay awake. His joints
ached and rattled, already loose. He couldn't see the sun, but
based on how he felt, he had about four hours left. He'd need three
of them to reach the nearest enclave.

“The Bureau knows I'm here,” he
said, fighting to keep his eyes open. “If you kill me, this place
will be swarming with enforcers.”

The goblin stepped up to the cage,
close enough that his nose poked through. “You'll still be dead,”
he said. And he laughed.

Clive rubbed his forehead,
avoiding the lump on the side of his head. The stick poked his
unprotected side, and he flashed his hand down to grab it. This
time, he was quick enough to get a splinter as the stick slipped
out of his grasp.