Jagger

by Alexander Key

  The man and the woman were here, Jagger informed him. They plan to slip back at dawn and destroy the children if they find them, then burn the house.

  Dawn is only a few hours away, Palamedes replied. That gives us very little time. But we will think of something.

  It seemed forever before Jagger heard the careful hoof-beats approaching on the road. He hastened outside and managed to place himself so that Nan could be lowered from the stallion’s back to his own. Then, with Peter stumbling alongside and supporting her, he carried Nan into the cottage.

  Inside, Peter took over. Though trembling with cold and practically blind in the dark, he located matches, lighted a lamp, and hurriedly wrapped Nan in blankets by the hearth. Then, expertly, he kindled a fire in the fireplace. In a very short time the logs were blazing and the room was warm.

  Peter, however, was already in the kitchen, opening cans and trying to heat food on the oil stove, which he had some difficulty getting going. Presently he was back at the fireplace after warming soup for Nan and himself, and a large bowl of some kind of peas which Jagger accepted gratefully.

  He watched Peter feed Nan a few spoonfuls of the soup. She swallowed it after briefly opening her eyes, but before he could get her attention and tell her what had to be passed on to Peter, she fell asleep.

  Jagger was suddenly worried. How was he to let Peter know about Tess Gomez and her plan to return at dawn?

  Peter finished his soup and, head nodding with weariness, brought extra blankets and a pillow from the bedroom and placed them on the floor beside Nan. Finally he went to the front door, evidently with the intention of locking it.

  “That’s funny,” he muttered suddenly, after examining both sides of the door. “There’s no key. Jagger, was the door unlocked like this when you got here?”

  Jagger shook his head.

  “You mean someone opened it after you arrived?”

  Jagger nodded.

  Peter bit his lip, then slipped out onto the porch. He was back in a moment with a key. Carefully he locked the door with it.

  “I know what happened,” he muttered. “They—they came by here, looking for us, ’cause we saw them up at the shack. Only they didn’t know Mr. Rush always hides his key on the porch when he leaves. So that Luis—he used one of his own. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his skeleton keys.”

  Peter came slowly back to the hearth. He put another stick of wood on the fire, and said thoughtfully, “But why’d they leave the door unlocked when they left? Was it to make it easy for us to get in?”

  Jagger nodded emphatically.

  “So that’s it!” Peter burst out. “That means they’re planning to come back. Do you know when?”

  Jagger made a quick estimate of what he had learned of the hours, and touched the hearth five times with his paw. Now get some sleep, he urged, even though he knew Peter couldn’t hear his silent message. I will wake you before they come.

  TWELVE He Lives Up to His Name

  In spite of the watchful corner of his mind, which always remained sharply alert, Jagger slept soundly through most of what remained of the night. When he awoke suddenly, because of some warning from that watchful corner, he was not immediately aware of the reason for it. In fact, everything seemed blessedly quiet and peaceful.

  Nan and Peter, bundled in blankets before the hearth, were sleeping as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Outside, the wind had died, and it was so still he could plainly hear the soft rushing of the distant creek. The birds had not yet begun their pre-dawn singing.

  Jagger went to the front window and peered out. He was so intent on trying to discover what had awakened him that he was not immediately aware that much of his old strength had returned. There was only a slight stiffness in his wounded leg to remind him of the ordeal of the past few days.

  Outside, vague in the starlight, he could see the dappled form of Palamedes dozing in the thick grass beyond Danta Rush’s truck. If there was danger afoot, it had not yet come to the stallion’s attention.

  Troubled, Jagger sent his mind reaching outward. It probed up the winding road, then down through the forest-covered slope, and around through the areas where the Black One had been after he had driven off the hunters. In all that stretch it touched upon nothing more dangerous than a small hungry creature that might have been a roving fox.

  Jagger was about to turn his probing to another part of the ridge when a faint sound caught his attention. His floppy ear stood up and twitched forward in the direction of Thornberry Farm. At the same moment Palamedes raised his head and listened. Only in this cold stillness before the passing of night could so small and distant a sound be heard.

  That sounded like a car being started at the farm, Jagger told Palamedes.

  It is the woman’s car, the stallion answered. But I thought they were not coming till dawn. Why would they come so early?

  I am sure it is because of the hunt, he explained. They did not realize at first what is going to happen—that as soon as it is light enough to see, there will be hundreds of men searching the ridge. If they intend to carry out their plan and burn the place to hide their evil, they must not be seen coming from here.

  Palamedes stood up. They must be stopped. But first, the children should be hidden somewhere else for a while.

  You are right. If you will take them to a safe spot, I will deal with the man and the woman.

  Jagger nudged Peter awake, then turned toward Nan. She opened her eyes at his touch, and blinked uncertainly around at the room, still dimly lighted by the lamp.

  How do you feel? he asked.

  “L-lots better’n I did,” she whispered.

  Nan, we must leave. Can you ride Palamedes?

  She sat up slowly. “I—I’ll sure give it a try. Wh-what’s happened?”

  Peter will tell you. Have him put some cans of food in blankets to take with us. He must hurry—we haven’t much time.

  There was a quick exchange between Nan and her brother. Then Peter ran to fill a pair of blankets with things from the kitchen. Hastily tying them together, he went to the door and unlocked it.

  Nan was wobbly on her feet, but by clinging to Jagger she made it to the edge of the porch, where Palamedes stood waiting. There, with Peter helping, she managed to scramble to the stallion’s back. Peter flung over the tied blankets so that they hung on each side like a pair of saddlebags. Then he sprang up behind her.

  Be careful, Jagger cautioned, as the stallion swung away into the darkness. We must not forget the Black One.

  I will be very careful, came the reply. And I will not go far. When you have driven off the man and the woman, I will return to the cottage. It should be safe during the hunt. But take no chances with those two, my friend. The woman, she is more deadly than the Black One.

  When Palamedes had vanished up the road, Jagger started off swiftly in the opposite direction. The headlights of the Gomez car were not yet visible, though he could hear it approaching far down the long slope. At the first bend he stopped. It was just the right distance from the house. The road widened a bit here, giving ample room for a car to turn around. It seemed a likely spot for the pair to leave their machine if they intended to go the rest of the way on foot.

  Jagger retreated halfway back to the cottage, then picked a large tree and crouched behind it to wait. This, he thought, is a good place to begin the act. They will have their weapons, but if I leap upon them suddenly, howling like the banshee I am supposed to be, they will forget their weapons and run. Perhaps I should knock them down and make them crawl. The more trouble I give them, the more terrible the experience will seem.…

  Headlights flashed suddenly down the road. Presently the car swung partially around the bend, stopped, and the lights went out. The two in the car sat whispering together for a while, then Jagger heard the doors being opened and softly closed. Soon the beam of a flashlight played briefly over the road, and to his ears came the stealthy sound of approaching footsteps.

  Jagger�
�s mind reached forward. It touched the uncertainty and fear in the man, and almost recoiled as it felt the driving hate in the woman. There was fear in her too, but this was almost crowded out by the hate. It was an overriding force that vibrated in her just as it did in the Black One.

  It shocked Jagger, and it frightened Luis Gomez.

  “You wouldn’t!” he was whispering hoarsely. “You got better sense!”

  “Shut up!” she spat at him. “If I want to work them over, I will. I’ve always hated those rotten brats!”

  “But if you pull anything like that—”

  “I said to shut up! I ought to give you a working over too—it’s your fault those kids escaped. If you’d been tending to business, we wouldn’t have to be put through this!”

  “But, Tess, I don’t see why we should even—”

  “You’re chicken!” she hissed. “You’ve been chicken all along—and on top of it you’re a fool! If we ever give those smarty kids a chance to talk to the sheriff …”

  Jagger did not hear the rest. His attention was abruptly diverted by another vibration of hate, a far stronger and more frightening vibration that came from somewhere on the slope behind him. It jerked him around, and sent his mind probing frantically to locate the horror. Even as he searched, he suddenly realized it was the Black One that had awakened him so early—and that there had been something very strange about it.

  The lack of scent? No, it couldn’t have been that. There was no scent now. The breeze—what there was of it—was moving up the slope and away from him. No, there had been no warning scent—nor had the night been charged with that deadly rhythm that was beating upon him now.

  Then what had the horror done to awaken him?

  All at once Jagger forgot the question. He had located the thing. For a moment it was motionless, high above him. Then it began moving downward so swiftly that it took all his attention to keep up with it.

  It was impossible to see. It kept to the blacker shadows, sweeping through them like a detached streak of blackness and gathering speed as it came. It was heading straight for Tess Gomez—as straight as if drawn by a magnet.

  A magnet? Was hate a magnet for other hate?

  The question was not of Jagger’s asking. It suddenly presented itself, and there was no time for an answer. He sprang into the road, trying to give a bark of warning. But before he could force a sound from his throat, the horror gave its own cry—a demented scream of rage. At the same instant it launched itself upon the nearer of the two approaching figures.

  Tess Gomez had time for only a short cry of fright. It might have risen to a scream had she lived a few seconds longer, but it was the last sound she ever made. Luis Gomez, knocked down and badly torn by the hurtling blackness, and overcome with terror, was capable only of a series of senseless gasps as he clawed to his feet and darted back to the car. Somehow he got it going and turned around, then shot madly away down the twisting road.

  Jagger did not even glance back at the scene of the tragedy. It was all over in the blink of an eye, and he had seen it, and now his senses were concentrated upon following the Black One. It had whirled and vanished in the direction Palamedes had taken.

  Somehow he must overtake it, or at least manage to get between it and the stallion.

  Jagger raced up the slope, taking an angular course that would put him behind the cottage and near the upper curve of the road. As he neared the beehives he was suddenly aware of Nan calling frantically.

  “Jagger! Jagger! Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  I can hear you now, he replied. And I’m all right. But tell Palamedes to stay away from the cottage. The Black One is somewhere near it.

  “Oh, golly gee! Something terrible’s happened. I—I just know it.”

  Yes. The Black One killed Tess Gomez.

  He could feel the shock in her. Then she whispered, “How—how utterly awful!”

  Now listen to me, both of you. Palamedes, can you hear me?

  I hear you, the stallion replied. What is it, Jagger?

  First, is there a safe spot near you where you can take Nan and Peter?

  There is the place of vines, where I used to take them when the master was living. We are nearly there now. It is a bluff at the top of the ridge. The only approach is from the front, and I can guard that with my hooves.

  Then go there—and be very careful of your thoughts and feelings.

  Nan said, “We—we don’t understand.”

  Try not to feel fear. And above all, do not hate anything.

  “B-but, Jagger,” Nan almost wailed. “That doesn’t make sense. So much is hateful!”

  Perhaps so. But I’ve just remembered something important Elder Norfo once told me: Hate is a magnet for hate. So you must not hate the Black One.

  “B-but he’s hateful, and horrible!”

  That makes no difference. You must not hate anything, or he will feel it and be aroused. Tess Gomez came here hating you, and he felt it. She is dead now because of it.

  “I—I still don’t understand. It—it’s so—so complex.”

  It’s not complex at all, Jagger insisted. It’s simple. I’ve seen the Black One. He has been hurt somehow. His mind is gone. He is only to be pitied. When he feels violent thoughts around him, it arouses him to violence. So don’t hate anything. Your life may depend upon it. Understand now?

  “I think so.”

  Then make sure Peter and Palamedes do. I will see you when I can.

  “Jagger!”

  Yes?

  “You—you’re planning something. Wh-what is it?”

  You’re not to think about it! Don’t even call me.

  The sky was paling and the birds, suddenly, had begun to sing of the coming day. For a moment Jagger listened to them with pleasure. They reminded him so much of home. His world and this one were practically twins, probably born at the same time, made of the same ingredients, and given the same forms of life. Only, this was the backward twin. The birds didn’t sing quite as well here, nor was the air quite as sweet. Or was he merely imagining all this because of the people?

  Suddenly he realized that, as soon as there was light enough to see, the great hunt would begin. Already he could hear cars speeding on the main road. If the badly wounded and terrified Luis could talk, men would come up here first and carry Tess Gomez away. Then the hunters would swarm through the woods, hating the horror that had killed again. Hate and fear would spread over the ridge. Fear alone might draw the demented Black One into another bloody orgy like the one with the frightened cows on the Purdom ranch. Only this time it would be with humans.…

  Already Jagger had circled swiftly, so that now he blocked the way to the place of vines. It was directly behind him, across a tiny meadow overgrown with goldenrod. Somewhere in front of him, in the dark tangle of trees and thickets, he knew he would find the Black One. The scent was almost lost in the cold dry air, nor at the moment was there the least vibration from that tortured mind to guide him.

  For an instant Jagger debated his next move. Should he take a chance and enter the tangle before he had located the creature? The sound of approaching cars far down on the ridge road decided him.

  Carefully he began picking his way forward, sending quieting thoughts ahead. It would take only one disturbing thought, he knew, to awaken that damaged brain and ruin everything. He realized now that something must have briefly disturbed the Black One earlier, which was why he himself had suddenly been awakened.

  The sky was brightening, and a red glow was spreading across the world. Jagger was hardly aware of it. He had detected something ahead, a living thing that seemed to be asleep—just as it had seemed last evening. Only, he knew at last it was not sleep the thing was experiencing, but a sort of trancelike disconnection.

  Rest, he told it soothingly. You’ve had a bad time. Rest …

  All at once he saw it—a great dark form lying across his path, its remaining eye staring fixedly at nothing.

  Jagger eased c
loser, and still closer. One small mistake, he knew, and the thing could spring to furious life in a twinkling and he could be ripped to shreds. But he did not allow the thought to surface.

  Rest, he continued, and at the same instant he sprang, his great jaws closing like a mighty trap upon his victim’s neck.

  The thing screamed to life in a flash, spewing hate and fury in a raging horror of sound that could be heard the length of the ridge. But the great jaws were set. Only the death of one or the other would cause them to open.

  Jagger had never experienced such ferocity and strength. Long after he would have broken another creature’s neck, the Black One spat its hate and fought on. Then in a burst of force that took all the power of his will to summon, Jagger gave a mighty jerk of his head that flung the black body over his shoulder. Abruptly something snapped, and the battle was over.

  I am sorry, he told the soul of the Black One. I did only what I had to do. I am of the race of guardians, and I must protect those who cannot protect themselves. Do you understand? I bear you no ill will, and I hope you are released from torment.

  I understand and forgive you, said the soul of the Black One. But I find it hard to understand and forgive humans. Why did they trap and cage me? Why did they shoot me and destroy half my sight and most of my mind when I fought only to be free and go home? Was it because I was a rare member of my kind? Was it because I was black, and larger and different? Why? …

  Jagger tried to explain that his own experiences here were not of the best, and that his troubles were the result of a certain backwardness in humans that he hoped time would correct. They are the strangest of all creatures, he added. I do not fully understand those in my world, which is a far better world than this one.…

  He stopped, for he realized that the soul of the Black One had gone on, seeking answers elsewhere. Now for the first time he heard the shouts of approaching hunters, and above them all the worried voice of Danta Rush calling his name. Nan too was calling to him frantically, as was another whose voice was curiously different, yet familiar.