Midnight's Angels - 03

by Tony Richards

  My next breath was an easier one. No one had been certain if the hominids could be changed back. But if I was right about this, there was genuine cause for hope.

  More crunching and stamping came from the undergrowth, bringing my attention around. Another upright figure struggled into view, and then whole bunches of them. Men and women, young and old, they were all in the same ragged, battered state, and equally bewildered. I doubted they remembered what they’d been doing a short while back.

  And I could see that most of them were not regular townsfolk. They were paler than was normal. And some of them still had on the remnants of jet-black cloaks. These were people who’d been at a ceremony, as part of a coven. They were Tyburn folk. I was amazed by that.

  Then a larger figure came stumbling out. Bald, and with a drooping moustache that shone off-white in Cassie’s beam.

  Gapsar Vernon had returned to us as well. Which was a huge relief.

  * * *

  He looked as stunned as the rest of them, initially. But he’s a clever and pugnacious man. Awareness started coming back into his gaze. He peered at me, taking a few moments to remember who I was. And then his cheeks puffed out, he released a sigh. When he lifted his hand slightly, I could see that it was bleeding.

  We’d never gotten on particularly well. Sitting right at the top of the social ladder as he did, Vernon usually expected the kind of deference that I was not prepared to give. But the normal order had been overturned -- we were all in the same leaky boat. So this was no time for acting high and mighty. And to give him credit, he could see that.

  “Holy Hell, Devries!” he mumbled. “Is that luminous paint on your skin?” He rubbed at his eyes. “What the blue blazes is going on? Last thing I remember …”

  Then he faltered, staring at his damaged hands. And seemed to realize what the truth might be. Most other people had known nothing of the hominids before that first attack. But he’d had prior knowledge.

  “Oh Good Lord,” I heard him murmur.

  The rest were staring at him, wondering what he was talking about. But there wasn’t time to draw them the big picture. Who knew what else might be on its way? I quickly outlined the general points. It was enough to get me very startled glances.

  “We were like animals?” Varley asked.

  He looked genuinely upset, and I recalled how cultured and high-minded he had always struck me.

  “Did we hurt anyone?” one of the younger Tyburn women asked.

  There was no way of telling, and it was beside the point. The real issue was they were back, but they had no protection. Their skin didn’t glow. There were two more angels out there somewhere, those and the rest of the hominids. They had to be gotten away from here, and fast.

  I knew that my car was a couple hundred yards back up the road, lost in the gloom. I explained to Vernon that the battery was dead.

  His manner became more composed. He asked me to point him in its precise direction.

  The man raised his right hand and then murmured a brief spell. At first, I wasn’t sure that it would even work. But when he shoved his outstretched fingers forward, there was an almighty flash. A bolt of lightning shot out, ripping the night air asunder. You could see it dwindle off, and then it disappeared entirely.

  Quinn had apparently been as good as his word. He had somehow woven his own magic through the darkness so the adepts’ spells would work out here. I noticed the delighted way that Cassie’s eyes gleamed.

  “Should be fine now,” Vernon told me. But he’d reached out with his mind as well. “Except it isn’t big enough for all of us.”

  He raised his hand again, this time above his head. A ball of greenish light appeared in his palm, illuminating the landscape around us for several dozen yards. Another driveway could be made out, off in the direction of Mill Street, the outline of a rustic house beyond it. And there was a vehicle parked halfway down, a solid-looking SUV.

  We didn’t have any keys to the thing, but Gaspar didn’t need them. The doors swung open of their own accord. The headlamps came on too, the motor growling into life.

  And so we split up into two groups, heading for the two separate vehicles. And within another minute, we were speeding back into the heart of town.

  * * *

  When the passengers in my car saw that everyone in town had the same golden glow, there were some pretty astonished gasps. No blaming them for that. Even I had to admit, it looked pretty incredible. Like the population of Raine’s Landing had been transformed into luminous phantoms. Some of them craned around as our vehicles approached.

  When I finally parked on the edge of the square and let everybody out, several of my passengers were recognized. People started making their way across quickly. There were shouts of delight and welcoming hugs.

  But then I saw Lehman Willets striding over. What I really noticed was the hard expression on his face.

  He looked awful troubled. And he kept his gaze fixed sternly on me, not taking the slightest notice of anybody else.

  “Who’re these?” he asked me, nodding without looking at the people I’d brought back.

  I realized that he was avoiding Cassie’s gaze, and wondered why. But I answered his question all the same.

  “That’s extremely good news,” he breathed. “A genuine cause for hope, at last.”

  But his words didn’t match his appearance. And I still didn’t know what he was looking so damned grim about.

  “What else has been going on?” I asked him, sheer impatience overtaking me.

  His red pupils dropped toward the flagstones, and his voice went very stiff.

  “It’s Quinn Maycott, ” he told me quietly. “And nothing in the least bit good has happened, I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER 50

  As soon as she heard that, Cass lunged forward, grabbing a handful of the doctor’s jacket. Which wasn’t the smartest thing to do around such a powerful adept. But she was overcome with fright. And Willets, seeing that, remained calm and passive.

  “What’s happened to him?” she yelled. “Where is he?”

  When he looked at her, his gaze was mild. I’d never seen those crimson-flecked eyes so filled with sadness.

  “Back at home,” he told her in a terribly quiet tone. “A doctor’s --“

  But he never got to finish the sentence. Cass was running off toward Meadows next instant, without uttering another word. I watched her shrink into the distance, and then turned back to Willets. Who was standing with his shoulders slumped, both arms hanging slackly.

  “The Hallows Knot?” I asked.

  It seemed to be an effort, but he nodded.

  “It happened some fifteen minutes back,” he told me. Which was about the same time that the angel had been destroyed. “I sensed this tremendous burst of energy near the Luce house. The source of it was a much shorter distance off though, nearby here and to the west. And so I knew that it had to be Maycott.”

  The doctor stopped, peering at me uncertainly.

  “He destroyed one of those soul-suckers? To save Cassie, right?”

  His eyebrows rose. It was my turn to nod.

  “He must have had some idea of the risk,” the doc continued. “I got there as fast as I could. Quinn was lying on the floor, not even breathing. So I applied my own version of CPR.”

  Willets was a fantastic healer when he cared to be one. Many of us owed our lives to that, myself included.

  “And then?”

  “After I’d resuscitated him, I called for a real medic, who is with him now.”

  The man stared in the direction of the alley and then back.

  “Quinn had a heart attack,” he told me. “Defying the spell on him? He’s lucky to be alive at all.”

  * * *

  The door to Quinn’s house was partway open. Cassie burst through it and then staggered to a halt. God only knew what she had been expecting. But it hadn’t been her new lover reduced to this enfeebled state.

  He looked like the vitality had bee
n siphoned out of him. His face was bloodless, his cheeks hollow. He was sprawled out very limply on his futon bed, covered to his chest with a plain linen sheet.

  His eyes were closed. It was hard to be sure -- the lights were turned down low. But she thought his eyelids had a deep blue tinge to them, and that had not been there before. His lips looked withered.

  A painful gasp went through her body. The doctor who was in the room heard that and glanced around. She only got a brief impression of him. Medium height and rather stout, dressed in a tracksuit and with stubble on his cheeks. Then she crossed the room and went down on her knees beside the mattress, pushing past the man like he was barely there.

  He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention. But she barely heard that, the blood singing in her ears. She picked up one of Quinn’s hands and twined her fingers around his.

  The doctor tried again. “Miss?”

  Cassie turned her head at last. The man looked more imposing from this angle. When she stared at his face, she could see how tired he was. But such considerations were beyond her.

  “You are?” he inquired.

  She struggled to understand the question. He didn’t only want her name. He was asking about her relationship to Quinn. And how to describe it? It was barely a day old, although it felt much longer-term than that. As if they’d known each other their whole lives.

  But there seemed to be no way that she could put that into words. And so she finally settled for, “A friend.”

  He nodded. “Has your friend ever had trouble of this kind before?”

  “Will he be alright?” she came back at him.

  “He’s had a major incident. He ought to be on medication and a drip. In hospital in fact, and under constant supervision. But none of those things are available at the moment.”

  “But he’ll be okay?” she asked again, a lot more sharply.

  The doctor seemed unbothered by her tone.

  “He’s young. He’s in good physical shape. With rest, he ought to pull through fine. But he needs to be shielded from stress, and God knows how that’s going to be achieved in these conditions.”

  Quinn, who had been fast asleep, gave a tiny grunt and shifted position slightly. Then his eyes opened a narrow crack. They focused and he recognized her. He forced out a tired, weak smile. And then he started trying to push himself up. Panic swelled in Cassie. She put a palm against his shoulder, holding him down as gently as she could.

  “There’s no need to move.”

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  His smile became a little puzzled, his brow squinching up. And she could see he couldn’t open his eyes properly.

  “I want --“

  “You need to rest, Quinn. You’ve been really sick.”

  The doctor -- who seemed like a sensible, experienced man -- moved away, giving them some privacy. Cassie crouched in close to Quinn’s ear, talking to him in a whisper.

  “You saved me, right?”

  He grinned and ducked his chin..

  “And that was when this happened?”

  “I guess.”

  Cassie felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and held his hand a little tighter.

  “You must never do anything like this again, you understand? Whatever’s happening. However bad it gets. Never use your powers to destroy stuff. Promise me?”

  She pressed his knuckles to her cheek to emphasize the point, letting him feel the dampness on them.

  And was about to repeat everything she’d said, when she heard a faint creak from the door. She looked over to see Ross and Willets staring at her. Cassie raised her head, a look of desperation spreading on her face.

  “Can’t you do anything more for him?” she pleaded.

  Willets didn’t answer, staring back at her helplessly. And Ross did the same.

  And that made her mind up. Quinn had already saved her life, not merely once but several times. So now that his was in the balance, it was up to her to make sure he pulled through.

  CHAPTER 51

  During the course of the next few hours, a load more missing townsfolk started showing up, every single one of them in pretty much the same state that Vernon and the rest had been. Ragged, mildly injured, frightened and bemused. None of them had the slightest memory of what they had been doing since the Dweller’s agents had captured them. They’d simply headed here because it seemed the natural place. Union Square has always been the hub around which this town revolves.

  These were more folk who had been transformed either by the angel that had been destroyed or by the hominids it had created. They came wandering in from every quarter of the Landing, although mostly from the west … Tyburners. Male and female, young and old. Singly, or in pairs or small groups. And on more than a few occasions, an entire family.

  When they found themselves confronted with fellow human beings whose skin was glowing, their reactions ranged from astonishment to open fright. It took a while to get some of them calmed down and accepting it.

  “It’s okay,” Martha and the rest assured them. “There’s a brand-new adept on our side.”

  But was that even still the case? Something new was occurring to me, and I went across to Willets.

  “We need to stop this ‘shoot to kill’ stuff,” I insisted. “If there’s a chance that everyone can be changed back, we have to take it.”

  I could see that his thoughts had already been running along the same kind of route, since he looked badly troubled.

  “We can’t force anyone to sacrifice their life for someone else,” he said. “But everybody now knows what the situation is. We’ll do the best we can.”

  By the time that we were halfway through the small cold hours of morning, our numbers had grown considerably larger. At a rough guess, seven or eight hundred people had come back. But Nick McLeish was not amongst them. Neither were the rest of the adepts from Sycamore Hill.

  The majority, the Tyburn folk, were generally slender and dressed in dark clothes. Had blank, distant expressions once they’d settled down. This was likely the very first time that most of them had ever mingled with the general population. And they’d only headed here because their own neighborhood had been transformed into a hominid-infested wasteland.

  But there’s a natural leader to any group. Someone who the rest rotate around, like little planets orbiting a larger, brighter sun.

  In this case, it was a tall woman with golden hair and strangely piercing eyes of almost the same color. The Tyburners kept walking up to her, ducking their heads slightly as they did so. She appeared to command their respect and attention, so I went across and introduced myself.

  “Emaline Pendramere,” she told me.

  Which was as old, West-country English as a name could get. So it was possible she was descended from the original Salem crowd. She explained to me her role in the community, High Witch. They didn’t use ‘adept’ down in Tyburn, since they had no time for euphemisms and were proud, besides, of their supernatural heritage.

  She was clad in a loosely woven maroon dress that swept the whole way down to brush against the ground. It started with narrow straps across her shoulders, and clung to her slim body in a way that made me careful where my eyes went. And I wondered if that was intentional. We’d all heard rumors about the rather loose ways of the people down in Tyburn.

  Her feet were bare, except I didn’t think she’d lost her shoes. The casual way she moved around made me suspect she never wore them. Every time she spoke, her full lips puckered.

  “And what is your involvement in this, Mr. Devries?” she asked.

  I cleared my throat. “You could call me a sort of local troubleshooter.”

  At which point, her eyes narrowed slightly, like I’d rung some kind of bell. I couldn’t really see how that was possible. People like her … the world outside their boundaries was of very little interest to them, a place in the distance they paid no attention to. So how could she know anything about me?

  I set that a
side.

  “If there’s anything that we can do to help your people?” I inquired.

  “We don’t need your medicines, if that’s what you mean. We have our own ways with such matters.”

  I noticed that her hands were already beginning to heal, much faster than they should have done. And she didn’t seem to be getting any pain from them, which couldn’t be said for some of our guys. No magic was involved in this. I’d seen them using poultices made out of common weeds and herbs.

  “We could use some food, though. None of us have eaten for a while.”

  But then she began to look rather embarrassed, her cheeks turning hot.“We were such fools,” she muttered, almost to herself. “When they first came to us --“

  “The angels?”

  “We thought they were benign. Stood there and welcomed them. And let them do this awful thing to us.”

  She had obviously been brought up to speed on what had been happening and the dark forces behind it. But when I tried to get some more information out of her, she -- like the others -- could remember nothing.

  “The past couple of days are a total blank.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way,” I smiled gently.

  She thought about that, and agreed.

  “But what is the ultimate purpose of this? Why should anything so vast descend on our small town?”

  I outlined to her the details of this Clavis they were after, and the way that Erin Luce had hidden it. Emaline seemed like a smart, perceptive woman, so I was wondering if she had anything to add.

  Her eyes got slightly darker as she took the information in and chewed it over.

  “Even in Tyburn,” she informed me, “we know of and respect the memory of Erin Luce. A mighty sorceress, blessed by the Goddess, who dispensed magic and wisdom in equal measure. You can be sure of one thing, Mr. Devries.” Her gaze glittered as it battened onto mine. “Wherever she hid this Clavis, the location would be chosen with the utmost shrewdness.”