by Celia Jerome
He was looking up at the house. “Are you sure you are going to be all right here alone?”
“I still fear you more than I fear anyone else.”
He shook his head, frustrated. “What can I say?”
“Nothing. Besides, the dogs will protect me.”
“They’re not your dogs.”
I shrugged. “They’ll defend their house.”
“Maybe. Are you going to call Grant? I’ll have to tell him you spotted the interloper, you know. And your theory that it’s looking for the boy.”
“Fafhrd is a he, not an it. And I haven’t decided about calling your partner.” I sure as hell didn’t want to, after throwing him out yesterday.
“He’ll be here by the weekend anyway. You’ll have to talk to him then.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Do. And think with your gut, lass, not just your brains.” He opened his door and got out. “I’ll wait here until you go in.”
“No, go back to Grandma’s. You’ll need your rest to keep up with her.”
“Grand woman, your granny. You’re lucky. I’m lucky to meet her.”
That sounded serious. “How old are you, anyway?” In the city Lou seemed like an ancient derelict. The night he drove Grant and me to dinner, he was a much younger debonair sophisticate. Now in this casual reincarnation, I had no idea of his age. The man was a chameleon, as changeable as his disappearing Irish accent. Then his words registered. “Luck had nothing to do with you staying at Grandma’s, did it? You came with references from the Institute, I bet.”
“A few phone calls was all it took. Eve is a firm supporter of the work we do.”
“So she knows about me?”
“She’s always known about you. That’s why she pushed so hard to get you on the right track.”
Right now the path I was on was a railroad track. I felt like the train ran over me while I was waiting at the station.
Lou continued: “But she does not know about the breach in the barriers. No one does. We don’t need a bunch of espers trying their hand—or talents—at communications or evocations. Or exorcisms.”
“Is Grandma a witch?” I always wondered, since I was old enough to see her mix her brews.
Lou smiled, there in the bright outdoor lights. “I don’t know as she dances skyclad at the full moon, but I wouldn’t mind peeking to see.”
I almost gave one of my mother’s sniffs, but it came out as a snort. Grandma Eve, prancing in the altogether?
Lou turned serious. “From what I know, she’s a wise woman with a huge warehouse of knowledge, some of it unknown to modern science. We send students to study with her whenever we can.”
“The foreign college kids who help at the farm in the summer. I always wondered why they worked so cheap.”
“For room and board and a place at the beach, plus a mentor like Eve Garland? They’d do it for free. Two more are coming in July. We tried to get them here sooner, but there’s a holdup on student visas. We didn’t want to draw attention to the crisis, so made no push to nudge the State Department.”
“But you could have?”
“As part of Homeland Security we could bring in an army of overseas psychics, or send out a call for every paranormal in America. The boss doesn’t see the need yet. Too much chance for publicity and exposure of the organization. I’m hoping we can handle it without calling up the reserves.”
Me, too. And soon. Then I mentioned how Mr. Parker had been looking for a young boy the last time he was out here, supposedly for a new movie. “How does that coincidence feel to your intuition?”
“Only a shade suspicious. I’ll have our people look into it tomorrow.”
“What about the VanWetherings, who are expecting their grandson to arrive from France any day? Mother asked Susan if she knew anyone looking for a summer nanny job.”
“I’ll add them to the list, too.”
After that, I told Lou he could leave, that I could get into the house by myself. My mother had told me how to disengage the alarm system, then reset it when I was in for the night. Lou said he’d wait outside until I flashed a light.
I went in, looked and listened, then hit the light switch. The poodles never barked. So much for my watchdogs. I guess they were trained not to cause a commotion in a city apartment, or wherever else they lived. They were happy enough to see me, doing a prance and a pirouette. Or maybe they just needed to go out.
There was no way in hell I was going to walk them around the perimeter of the property in the dark, and the little fenced-in area around the back door looked too small for such big dogs. Besides, I had a better idea.
I took the dogs through the house and out to the pool. That area had a fence of its own too, most likely for safety regulations. This fence was more decorative than the high perimeter chain link or the plastic mesh around the rear dog run. As I recalled, the pool had a surrounding garden, lounge groupings, and floodlights. I was thrilled to see the floodlights and how much ground they covered. I’d clean up after the boys in the morning.
Ben and Jerry seemed ecstatic, running, playing, wrestling with each other, and barking at the shadows. I guess they weren’t allowed in this area, but I didn’t care.
Despite the clouds that hid the stars, the temperature was comfortable and I decided to sit outdoors awhile and think while the big dogs frolicked. I figured they’d been kept penned up too long. I’d hate it, no matter what my mother said about dogs liking their crates as a secure environment. Besides, I shouldn’t go inside without them, in case one fell into the pool, and I didn’t think they were done playing or taking care of business for the night. They must know how to swim—didn’t all dogs?—but might have trouble finding the stairs to get out of the water.
I brought my cell with me, in case of trouble, or in case I could bring myself to call Grant. I knew Lou was most likely on the phone before he left the Rosehill driveway, so what else could I report? Nothing. Grant was still a rat and I was still feeling used. On the other hand, no matter what I said to Lou, I wasn’t real happy about being alone at this isolated estate in the middle of the night.
I made myself sit on one of the lounge chairs, without fetching a cushion from the bathhouse at the other end of the pool. I sat and listened to the dogs, spring peeper toads, and the pool machinery, inhaling the scent of roses and chlorine. I touched the pendant on my neck and tried to relax. I told myself how silly I was, to be afraid of the dark. I’d spent twenty-something summers in the Harbor, and never heard of a single crime worse than kids breaking into vacant houses, bar fights and a couple of domestic quarrels. After a while the peace of the night and the sheer joy of the dogs acted like a massage for my spirits. I leaned back on the chaise, at ease.
Soon enough the dogs came to lie beside my chair, panting from their exertion but content to stay out in the night air. I thought they’d go toward the house when they wanted to go in. One of them—I had no idea which—got up to sniff around a blooming azalea. I rubbed the other dog’s curly head, and he rested it on my thigh. Nice.
The clouds parted a little, and I admired the moonlight on the clear pool water for a minute or two. Then I picked up the cell phone and called Grant.
He answered right away. “I’m glad you called. I want to apologize again. And I really hate you being at that place by yourself.”
Nice, too. “I’m okay. I’m sitting out by the pool, watching the moonbeams on the water. The dogs are great company.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. And that you have your phone with you outside. Lou called. He said you spotted our friend on the highway.”
“Yeah. Do you want to speak with him?”
Grant’s voice took on a rougher edge, one I willfully interpreted as jealousy. “Lou is there?”
“No, but Fafhrd just broke the high diving board in half.”
CHAPTER 19
THE DOGS WERE BARKING SO loudly and frantically that I could barely hear Grant shouting, loudly and frantica
lly, “Take his picture! Take his picture!”
My phone was wet. So were the dogs and I, from a ton of stone gargoyle falling into the pool. More water flowed outside on the decking and chairs and potted plants than in the pool itself. Fafhrd looked surprised, then he started hopping up and down, delighted to see more tidal waves sloshing over the sides.
I wondered how long before the pool collapsed, but I yelled, “Stop jumping,” to Fafhrd, “Shut up,” to the dogs, and “Sorry, I didn’t mean you,” to Grant. “Hang up and I’ll get back to you.”
I dried off the phone on the back of my shirt, yelled at the dogs again, with no results, switched modes, and snapped Fafhrd’s picture. He waved, as if he understood what I was doing. I half expected him to mouth, “Hi Mom,” but he went back to playing in the water. He’d throw himself backward as if he were making snow angels. Or seeing if he could float. Oh, boy.
I pushed the right buttons, sending the picture out to the ether, then I pushed redial and got Grant.
“Did you get it? What did you see?”
“I see a big red . . . ”
“Yes?”
“Tree. A big red maple tree that fell into the pool.” Then he said a word that did not usually have two o’s in it, but I guess that was the British pronunciation. He sounded so disappointed that I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. This was what he lived for, what his whole raison d’être wrapped itself around. I wanted him to see Fafhrd, too, to validate my own experience.
On the other hand, I was the only one. Agent High and Mighty, due-consideration Grant could breach every civil liberty a liberal lawyer could name, but he couldn’t see a single swimming troll.
He cursed again. “It’s part of the ancient covenant. No images.”
“No matter, he’s gone now.” I got up to make sure he hadn’t just sunk to the bottom of the pool, but he was gone. The dogs were racing around, bewildered and bedraggled. I wonder if they could see Fafhrd, besides hearing his commotion. Did he have a scent only dogs could recognize? Would they chase him—or would he harm them? I kind of wished my mother was here so she could ask the dogs, but she’d have a fit at the damage from my first hour at Rosehill. I wasn’t thinking about the pool, either. If Ben and Jerry were nervous before, I’d hate to see what a disappearing Goliath did to them.
“Are you still there?”
Somehow I’d forgotten about Grant.
“Yes, but neither the pool nor the dogs will ever be the same.”
“Me, neither. What now?”
“I don’t think he’ll come back tonight.”
“No, I meant about us.”
“Us?”
“I want to be part of this. Your troll is the most important event of the century, any recent century. His appearance is amazing, astonishing, and dangerous.”
“You sound like a geek hacking into the Defense Department.”
“We made sure no one could. But this is not just research and study and speculation; Fafhrd is real, and the threat is real. To you, to every single person alive today.”
“Yeah, I already got that. Look what he did to the pool.”
“That’s not what I mean. One troll is nothing compared to what else could be unleashed on unsuspecting humanity. They won’t even see it coming, no more than I could see your friend. I know I can help stop the threat. That’s what I was trained to do, Willy. You have to let me. I can do it; I know I can, but only with your help. I need you to trust me.”
The dogs had given up. They came to sit beside my chair, their tongues lolling out. I knew I ought to hang up and get them fresh water and towels, but this was too important. My life, my future, my happiness—to hell with the rest of the universe—might depend on what we said now. “How can I trust you when you don’t tell me anything? Not just about the wiretaps, but you don’t tell people about Fafhrd, about Unity, about DUE or what the Royce Institute really does. Heaven only knows what else you aren’t telling them, or me. So how do I know I’m not hearing only what you want me to know? You have too many secrets to be trustworthy.”
“Damn, Willy, I don’t make all the rules and decisions about who knows what. The choices were made centuries ago to protect those who were different, who did not fit the common mold. Haven’t we seen enough so-called ethnic cleansing to know what evils men can commit on anyone who worships another god, speaks another language, has a different color skin? You say you do not trust me. Picture the fear and loathing if people suspected enclaves of their fellow citizens could read their minds, could predict their deaths, could distinguish lies from truth?”
“I suppose.”
“Further, what good would it do to tell people about Fafhrd, when they cannot see him? They’d consider such a warning proof that we were all insane.”
“Not just me, for once.”
“You are not crazy. You’re special. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I sure as hell had never met anyone like Grant, but I lived in small circles, despite living in Manhattan. “You expect me to believe that you’ve never known another woman who claims to see the supernatural, when you work with weirdos all day?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. And I don’t lie.”
We were back to the big issue. “But you do withhold truths.”
“Sometimes. So do you.”
Like not admitting how much I wanted to trust him? How he was the hottest, sexiest man I’d ever known? How his voice sent shivers up my spine? I considered that self-protection. “Listen, I don’t live my life on the edge like you do. I am not used to it. I don’t want to get used to it. You live for it. You are part of it. I can’t be.”
“But you kissed me back.”
I felt heat in my cheeks and was happy he couldn’t see the blush. “I thought we were talking business.”
“As you said, this is a crazy business. We operate more on feelings than cold logic. We have to, because we cannot ignore the talents of our associates. We listen, not just to the words, the evidence, but also to the belief in our peoples’ strengths. We learn to trust our own feelings, too.”
“I thought you Brits didn’t put much stock in emotional stuff. Stiff upper lip and all that.”
“That’s for public show. Inside? You can’t be part of this without trusting what others know, with other senses. I believe you see the troll, even though I will most likely never see him. I believe you don’t intentionally call him forth, or encourage him to break the treaty rules, because I believe in you. There’s no logic I could demonstrate, no rationality. Just feeling.”
I could go with that, since not a whole lot of Troll Gate made any sense.
He lowered his voice. “And I felt something else with you. Something I will not deny.”
I was feeling it now. His deep, mellow tones, with the clipped British accent, were sending tingles to places that never heard of reason.
“I felt it the second I saw you. The instant your hand brushed mine. As soon as I caught your scent and saw your eyes sparkle. Something is there between us. I know you felt it too, like a jolt of electricity, or a spark from a bonfire. Call it magnetic attraction, call it hormones or lust or magic, but don’t deny its existence.”
I couldn’t, not when his words made me shiver. No, that was the cool night air on my damp clothes . . . and thoughts of taking them off, with him.
“I’d like to see where that feeling leads,” he continued. “I’d like to finish what we started at your apartment.”
“Finish? I’m no one-night affair.”
“What if it takes fifty years to finish? We’ll never know if we don’t start.”
“Pretty words. Is that what you tell every female you want to sleep with? What’s the British word for it? Shag? Swive?”
“Screw, same as here, with other expressions, depending on the company. But there’s also ‘making love.’ ”
“I don’t want to be one of your girls in every port.”
“I don’t have a girl in every por
t. Or in any port, for that matter. I date—I’m no monk—but I don’t sleep around, and I’ve never had a relationship with a woman lasting more than a few months.”
“Commitment problems, huh?”
“I never found a woman I wanted to stay with longer. That’s better, I’d say, than settling for an Alvin.”
“That’s Arlen. That was, anyway. He was nice.”
“But no electricity?”
“Only when I tried to unplug the toaster at his apartment.”
“We can do better.”
I could hear the smile in his voice and I was tempted. Oh, so tempted. Like a moth by the candle flame, I suppose. “How do I know you’re not feeding me a line of bull, just to get my cooperation? Or get in my bed?”
“Because I don’t lie. And I can prove it to you by sticking around after we fix the troll problem. You’ll see, with time. That’s the only way you’ll learn to trust me if you cannot take my word on it. I could get character references from my boss, I suppose, or the PM.”
“You know the Prime Minister?”
“What, you’d rather have a note from the Queen? That might take a bit more time than we have right now. Come on, Willy, say I can come out to Paumanok Harbor and act the lovesick swain so I can be with you day and night.”
“Here? You want to stay here?” Sharing Cousin Lily’s bed? “No, that’s impossible. I know half the people in this town, and I know how they talk. Good grief, my mother would hear about it in twenty minutes, in Florida.”
“Your mother knew about Alvin, didn’t she? Or does she think you’re a thirty-five-year-old virgin?”
“I am thirty-four, and my mother and I do not discuss those things.”
“Your birthday is next month. And how can I protect you, and watch out for dangers, if I am not with you?”
I knew I’d feel better about being out here at Rosehill if he were near.
“Besides, how can we find out how far attraction can take us if we don’t get to know each other better? And how can we add kindling to that spark if I stay at your mother’s house or a motel in Montauk?”