She stared, startled, but Lannes was on his feet in a moment, slamming a hand against the old man’s shoulder. He bore him down against the couch, and Koni leapt over the coffee table to take his other arm. The old man did not struggle. He looked at Lethe, and smiled.
“Amazing, the things you learn when you eavesdrop,” said Ed, though his voice was suddenly low, hoarse. Even his face looked different, and the muscles in his jaw were trying to rearrange themselves.
“Simon,” Lethe said. “Get the hell out of that man.”
“You have no patience whatsoever. Please. Sit. Relax. Let us chat a spell. And while you’re at it, get your monsters to stop touching me. They’ll leave a bruise on this nice old man.”
Lannes leaned forward. “You hurt her, you hurt him, and there will be no talking. I’ll find you myself, and rip off your head.”
“You leave me shaking in my skivvies, beast. Now, please, if you would.” The old man—Simon, really—gave them a rather ghastly grin. Lannes and Koni, sharing a long look, eased off. But not far. Behind Lethe, Rictor moved close. Still holding the cat.
“Talk,” Lethe said.
“We have options,” the man remarked. “As I said while dangling from the seat belt of that awful truck, I am prepared to offer you a deal. You kill the thing inhabiting you, and I will let you live.”
“Gee,” Lethe said, “what a bargain.”
“It is,” he replied. “I can be anywhere, in anyone. All I have to do is think it. And you’re dead.”
“Really,” Lannes said. “If that’s the case, then think your way into me.”
“Or me,” Koni said.
“Or please,” Rictor added coldly, “try me.”
Simon hesitated. Lethe smiled. “You are so desperate. And you are such a loser. Runa saw it. She hated your guts, and you knew it. So you thought you’d get even by hurting her little girl. You thought that would prove yourself to everyone. You little shit.”
Ed’s face froze in an ugly grimace. “Don’t you say that.”
“Murderer,” she snarled. “Spoiled fucking brat.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” he whispered. “Oh, God, I’m gonna kill you.”
Lethe felt a pulse at the back of her brain. It was Runa, waking. Lannes gave her a sharp look and took a step. Too late. The dead woman entered her mind like a ghost, intangible but full and rich.
Lethe could not fight Runa, and her mouth moved, speaking words not her own. “For my daughter,” she whispered. “You will never have peace.”
And then she used Lethe to slam into Ed’s mind. Simon had a barrier up, but it buckled under the onslaught, and quite suddenly Lannes was there with her, too, skimming the outside of her thoughts. His strength poured in deep and true.
They did not break the wall, but Ed cried out, the tendons of his neck straining, and just like that, Simon fled. Back to the foxhole, wherever he lived.
Runa retreated as well. Lethe’s knees buckled, and Rictor caught her arm, the cat on his shoulder jumping off with a disgruntled yowl. Lannes reached her in the next heartbeat, his jaw set, his eyes so dark with concern that all the blue seemed to have been traded for black. His passage sent magazines flying off the coffee table, victims of his wings.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Ed?”
“Okay,” Koni said. “Just unconscious.”
Lethe sat down on the floor, resting her forehead against her knees. “That went well,” she said, and promptly leaned over to vomit.
Chapter Eighteen
It took several hours to take care of Ed. His pulse was fine, his breathing regular, but he was unconscious for such a long time that Lannes grew concerned about brain damage. Unfortunately, that was nothing a doctor could fix. Psychic trauma had to heal itself, or not heal at all.
But the old man woke. And after a lengthy conversation in which Ed confessed remembering nothing after seeing the photograph—and Lannes determined that no permanent damage had been done—they bundled themselves up, said good-bye to the cat, and drove away, waving to the old man who stood on his stoop and watched them with a smile, sadness in his eyes.
They stopped briefly at a little café near the lake. Lethe had used the bathroom at Ed’s house, so she stayed in the car—just in case someone recognized her—while the men went in and bought some food. It took only a few minutes to do that, and less than that to decide where to go next.
“I’ve been thinking about crows,” Lannes said, as they stood outside eating. “Crows with odd behavior, protecting large tracts of land.”
“I haven’t heard this story,” Lethe said, talking around a roasted chicken sandwich. Odd breakfast, but the café served fishermen who wanted to buy lunches for the entire day. Sandwiches fit the bill.
“You think the farm in the picture is there,” Koni said, looking rather ill.
Lannes shoved some roast beef into his mouth. “You must be a mind reader.”
“Do you think William will be there?” Lethe asked them. “If he is, it could go badly for him.”
Koni tensed, his reaction seeming rather more personal than simple concern over a stranger’s welfare. Lannes frowned at him, and to Lethe said, “I’m not throwing you in the trunk of the car. Forget it.”
“Duct tape, then. Rope. If he was part of that group, he could be in danger from me.”
Lannes finished off the rest of his sandwich. “Based on Runa’s letter, I doubt he did anything to harm her daughter.”
“I’m not willing to take the risk.”
“You’ll have to,” Rictor said, leaning against the car, deceptively casual. “You’re too powerful. Even if we tied you up, you’d still break free. I don’t even know how well a sedative would work. The only way to really stop you is to put a bullet in your brain.”
“Stop,” Lannes said. “Don’t go there.”
Rictor shrugged. “It’s the truth. Deal with it, or not. She’s dangerous. And once this is over, if it’s over, she—”
“I’m right here,” Lethe interrupted.
“Is going to need training,” he finished.
“‘Training,’” she repeated. “Or is that another way of saying that I’ll need to be watched, to make sure I don’t cause trouble?”
“You are trouble,” Rictor said. “It’s in your blood.”
Lannes stepped toward the man, who was a full head shorter but looked perfectly capable of handling himself against the gargoyle. They stared at each other, and there was no remorse in Rictor’s eyes. No calculation, no emotion. Just flat, hard calm.
Everyone fell silent. Then, carefully, Koni said, “We’re too exposed. Let’s go.”
Lannes and Lethe pulled out first in the Impala, leaving the Humvee a fair distance behind. For good reason. Five minutes later, he saw a crow fly free of the large black car. Koni, going scouting. Still attempting to keep his secrets from Lethe, which at this point, seemed rather ridiculous. Soon after, Lannes let Rictor pass him.
It was still morning. Lannes saw very few homes and hardly any people—just two boys playing basketball in the parking lot of a church—but the sun was shining, and the air flowing through the open window tasted rich and sweet and wild as they traveled down narrow country roads winding through land still heavy with mist. The gold of autumn was in full riot, brilliant against green meadows nestled along swollen silver creeks that captured the dawn light as though the waters were full of magic.
“There’s a crow following us,” Lethe said, peering out the window.
“Um,” Lannes replied. “Really.”
She gave him an odd look. “You do realize, don’t you, that this link goes both ways? I might not be able to read your mind all the time, but I know what you’re feeling.”
“Might as well be the same thing,” he muttered.
Lethe looked out the window again, staring into the sun, her hair shining golden and fine. Her face finally had some color, a touch of rose in her cheeks, and her eyes carried a deeper, richer green than he remember
ed. “I have instincts about things. Not memories, and not those random facts I spout. Just…feelings that seem to rest in between.” She pointed out the window at the crow winging high above the Humvee. “Like instincts. And that bird, if I can allow myself to say it, is not normal.”
Lannes sighed. “Don’t ask me to explain.”
“But I’m right.”
He smiled. “You’re sitting in a car being driven by a gargoyle disguised as a human man, while you are capable of moving objects with your mind, as well as reading minds. So yes, probably most anything your instincts tell you about this world, no matter how strange, is going to be possible.”
The Humvee began to slow. Lannes looked around. He had not paid attention to where they were driving. Harvested cornfields were on his left, and on his right, a thick forest. Ahead, the crow wheeling in the sky suddenly twisted to the left, diving toward the ground, and Rictor braked so suddenly that Lannes almost crashed into his bumper.
Just as he slowed, Lannes felt a hum in his blood, a flutter of energy…and then a black wave of feathers erupted over the golden forest, careening en masse towards the one black bird struggling to get away.
“Shit,” Lethe said.
Rictor jumped out of the Humvee and ran toward the edge of the road. Lannes and Lethe got out as well, joining him. The one small crow began flying toward them, but the sheer number pursuing him was terrifying, even to Lannes. At least a hundred crows, maybe more, their shadow passing over the cornfield like a giant fist. Rasping voices screeched, so deafening he could feel the vibration in his chest.
Rictor glanced down at Lethe. “You can save him.”
She blinked, clearly startled, and the man grabbed her wrist. A cold smile tugged at his mouth. “Make something of yourself.”
Lannes grabbed her other hand. “Put up a wall,” he said urgently, traveling along their link. “Just see it in your head.”
He felt her bewilderment, but it was followed by the roar of her quick mind. She stared at the birds, her focus sharpening to a razor point, and narrowed her eyes.
Power roared across her skin into Lannes’ own body, like a lightning bolt shooting up his arm and into his brain. Her eyes flashed with actual light, her mouth tightening into a hard line, and a moment later all of the crows crashed against an unseen barrier. None of them dropped all the way to the ground, but they hovered, flapping furiously, blocking out the morning sun.
Koni fluttered past, directly into the Humvee. Rictor slammed the door behind him.
“Move,” he snarled at the others, and then froze, staring into the woods. Lannes turned and saw nothing. Lethe grabbed his arm.
“I lost control of them,” she snapped, and raced for the car. Lannes looked over his shoulder in time to see a black wave rushing forward. He leapt into the Impala, fighting to roll up the window, and gunned the engine.
The crows flew past both vehicles into the woods. Not one of them hesitated. They were a dark massive blur that rocked the Imapla on its wheels until…. nothing; they were swallowed by trees. It was as if the crows had never existed.
Lannes sat staring, his heart racing faster than the thoughts flitting through his memory, as he watched again and again that remarkable disappearance.
“Forget normal,” Lethe said. “That was crazy.”
Lannes agreed. But it also meant they were on the right track.
They drove for another fifteen minutes before finding a road through the woods. It was just as wide as a car and packed with dirt—a lane, Lannes might have called it, except that a rusty chain ran across the entrance, and there was a sign that quite clearly said, NO TRESSPASSING.
The Humvee door kicked open, and a barefoot, half-dressed Koni tumbled out. His hair was wild, his shirt off, displaying his impressive array of tattoos, and his jeans were hardly zipped, revealing the fact that he did not wear underwear.
Koni’s eyes flashed with golden light. He walked up to Lethe, ignoring everything and everyone else.
“Thank you,” he said, with a great deal of sincerity.
“My pleasure,” she replied, with just as much dignity.
Lannes bent down and rattled the lock on the chain across the road. He made a sharp twisting motion, and it fell broken into the dust. The chain slid apart, pooling into the narrow lane.
“Oops,” he said. “Look at what I did.”
Lethe smiled. “Guess this means you need to find the owner. Offer to buy a new lock.”
“Assuming you reach the owner,” Rictor said, staring at the woods.
Koni followed his gaze. “Just so everyone knows, I’m not biting it, Blair Witch—style.”
“I’ll put you out of your misery before it comes to that,” replied Rictor, and it was difficult to tell if he was serious. He marched back to the Humvee, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of them. “Stay in the car, no matter what you see, no matter what happens. And keep your windows rolled up.”
Koni grimaced. Lannes and Lethe shared a long look.
“Does he know something we don’t?” she asked them.
“He’s Rictor,” Koni said, as if that was all the explanation necessary.
They started driving. Humvee first, Impala close behind. Lethe rolled down the window just a crack to air out the scent of blood—which was either fading or becoming something she was accustomed to.
“I’ve had this car for forty years,” Lannes told her. “It was a birthday present. I would cruise around on short road trips whenever I needed to clear my head.”
“It’s not completely ruined,” she told him, then stopped. “Wait, forty years? Just how old are you?”
“Um,” he said, his hands tightening around the wheel. “We age a little differently than humans. I suppose in your years, I would be in my thirties. But chronologically I’m in my late seventies. I was born in 1930.”
“Wow,” she said. “So, the normal lifespan of a gargoyle…”
“We can live up to three hundred years,” Lannes replied, “and we usually do. Especially now that we’re no longer hunted.”
You’ll outlive me, he heard her think. Which was not something he wished to contemplate. At all.
The forest was beautiful. Lannes had thought it was lovely on the outskirts, brushed in the gold of autumn and the lingering green of summer. But here, deeper inside the forest, was another kind of wilderness. He could not see past the border of trees, which seemed to form a wall on either side of the road, filled as it was with brambles and wild stinging plants. To others it might have been inhospitable, but to Lannes it seemed nothing more than the first barrier to a mystery.
He looked for mysteries. His heart felt open to them. If nothing else, he half-expected to find his car attacked by a cloud of angry crows. But nothing happened, and after ten minutes spent pushing down the incredibly long drive, the trees opened up, splitting apart to reveal another world.
A vast lush meadow spread before them, the grass soft and green and scattered with wildflowers. Fruit and nut trees dotted the surroundings, as did several grazing horses, brown coats shining. The drive snaked through the meadow, and at the end of it, surrounded by fat ancient oaks, was a large house, clearly old but lovingly cared for. A fresh coat of blue-gray paint had been applied, and the roof, old and made of metal, resembled the scalloped back of a dragon.
To the right of the house, at the end of the drive, was a cemetery.
“Well,” Lethe said, glancing at him, “I guess we know where Etta’s picture was taken.”
They parked near the house. Everyone tumbled out. The air smelled fresh and clean, and not one sound of the modern world broke through the birdsong. Neither car nor plane. It was like being wrapped in another century.
Rictor still stared at the woods. Lannes moved close, following the direction of his gaze, trying to see what held him so captive—unhappily captive, he thought. He found nothing, though he sensed an odd tingle on the edge of his mind and remembered the crows blotting out the sun.
“There’s something in there,” he said.
“There’s something everywhere,” Rictor replied.
Roses surrounded the old house. Koni knocked on the front door, while the rest of them hung back on the porch. Hummingbird feeders had been set out, and the cushions on the scattered chairs were covered in cat hair. Lannes saw a small wooden box filled with gardening gloves, a sagging bag of sunflower seeds, and a tattered bird-watching guide that was missing half its cover.
It was very warm and charming. He felt bad for interrupting.
No one, however, came to the door, and Lannes strolled to the end of the porch and peered over the rail.
There was a large garden behind the house surrounded by a pale blue picket fence. Despite the late growing season, he glimpsed red tomatoes, staked and tall, and rows of cauliflower and other leafy greens. A man stood among the vegetables. His back was turned to them, and he held a hoe in one hand. A crow perched on the other. He wore a straw hat.
Koni joined the others at the end of the porch. Rictor hung back, leaning against the rail, arms folded over his chest. Staring out at the woods. He did not appear particularly surprised or interested that there was a man on the other side of the house, and Lannes, recalling what little he knew of him, wondered if Rictor had been aware of this place’s existence all along.
“You should go introduce yourself,” Lethe said, holding back. “I’ll just, uh, wait here.”
Lannes hesitated, but it was quite clear she was not going to budge. Perhaps she felt Runa would return for more mayhem. He stooped down, kissed her cheek, and stepped off the porch onto a little beaten path lined in moss and stone. The crow watched his approach, its eyes profoundly intelligent.
“Hello,” Lannes said, when he reached the fence. Koni was close behind. No sign of Rictor or Lethe.
The crow tilted its head, and after a curiously long moment, the man turned slightly, revealing a weathered and chiseled profile. He was old, but his body was so big and strong, Lannes had thought the man would be much younger.
“Well,” said the stranger, with a small smile, “it’s about time.”
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