by Baen Books
Satisfied that I had done what I could for Tommy and his friends, I walked back to my car. Before I reached it, I heard footsteps behind me and turned once more.
Tommy strode in my direction, a sober expression on his youthful face.
“Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t have to do this.”
I shrugged. “Mister Sullivan hired me to stop whoever was stealing his cars. This seemed like the best way.”
“Yeah, well, I’m grateful, even if Cody isn’t.”
I smiled.
“Is Mister Sullivan going to fire me?”
“I don’t know, Tommy. That’s between you and him. He likes you. He was disappointed when I told him that you might be responsible. So it may be that you can earn back his trust. But that’s going to take some work.”
He nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He started back toward his friends and Namid. “See you around.”
#
I spent most phasings by myself. I feared hurting someone with my enhanced magic and reduced control, and, maybe more to the point, I didn’t want anyone to see me like that: desperate and mad and unable to function.
But this was Christmas Eve, and I knew that my Dad, who was already crazy enough, thank you very much, would be having a rough time, too. So, I bought us a couple of steaks and some potatoes, and late in the afternoon I drove out to his trailer.
The sun angled steeply across the Phoenix-Wickenburg Highway and a stiff westerly wind shook my car and sent tufts of tumbleweed rolling across the road. It would have been a great afternoon for a hike in the desert, but I could feel the moon lurking just below the horizon, reaching for my mind, clouding my thoughts. I arrived in time to get the food cooked and plated. We ate in silence, rushing through our meal like men who knew their minutes were numbered. My Dad wasn’t in great shape, though he wasn’t as bad off as I had seen him on occasion.
When we had eaten and I had put our dirty plates in the sink, I came back outside and draped a couple of blankets over my father’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”
He grinned. “Merry Christmas to you.”
We sat together, watching the light change, waiting for the moonrise. Once it came, I lost track of the time. But I remember seeing the moon creep up into the sky, huge and orange, as mesmerizing as it was powerful. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. My thoughts fragmented, and, as I did so often, I began to hallucinate. I remember seeing my mother, dead more than fifteen years, standing before me, the wind stirring her hair. I thought I saw a mountain lion slink across the land behind my father’s trailer. And at one point I could have sworn I saw something flash across the face of the moon in silhouette: a sled pulled by flying, antlered creatures and bearing a single man.
Over the years, I had seen a lot of strange things during the phasing. Who could say which of them were real, and which weren’t?