Stew bobbled slightly and Debbi quickly caught him with both arms. The man actually shook.
"Oh God," Stew whispered.
Her eyebrow rose. "I think we need to get the two of you to the Doc. You look whiter than sheets."
Ross nodded manically, rational thought finally making a play in his brain. "Doc Dazy. We should get you to Doc Dazy. Let him check you out."
"Later," she countered, slipping past the stupefied Stew. "I just want to get cleaned up and get things back to normal." She glared at Ross. "Now move it, you big lug. I'm breakin' out of here." She grinned at him and shook her head.
Ross didn't budge. Heaving a heavy defeated sigh, she feigned surrender, but then quickly turned and snapped at him playfully with her teeth. Ross fell back from the door, almost knocking the side table over in his haste. The door free, Debbi pulled it open, sauntered out into the hall, and out of the building.
"Dammit," Ross growled, scrambling after her, embarrassed and angry at her sick ploy. Stew was close on his heels.
"She plays dirty," the younger Ranger noted.
"If I had any doubt she was really back, it's gone now," Ross declared, trying to keep pace with the spunky redhead as she maneuvered through the near empty streets of Temptation. Lucky for them, most folk were still half asleep or too busy to give a whit who or what was walking around town. The small trio of Rangers steered unerringly toward Miss Etta's Boarding House.
Chapter 7
When the first brutal storm of the season roared into Temptation off the northern plateaus and the pounding, night winds drove ice pellets like bullets only the most hardy walked the dark streets. It was all folks could do to steel themselves to race out into the frigid weather wrapped in long barka fur coats and capes long enough to scurry from one saloon to another. These were the early days of the long winter in this part of Banshee. Days were short. Nights were long. And alcohol flowed around the clock.
The screaming winds and the staccato ticking of ice off the windows made Mo's almost homey inside. The sweaty warmth of booze-soaked bodies inside the saloon was inviting when compared to the knife-edged cold outside. The most uninviting thing about Mo's, aside from the stench and the possibility of contracting lice, was Mo. The gray-haired bartender was quickly settling into his surly winter mode.
Mo leaned on the sticky bar and surveyed the teeming room with a glower. The door opened and a blast of freezing air lashed him. He turned to shout at the newcomers until he saw it was Miller and Ringo. The bartender immediately cast anxious eyes at the corner table and, to his relief, found it empty, thanks, in part, to a sign he had placed on it reading "Don't Sit Here Or Somebody Will Kill You."
Miller and Ringo pushed to the bar unbuttoning their heavy coats. The bruised and swollen Miller cradled a scattergun and surveyed the empty table across the crowded saloon with satisfaction. "Evening, Mo. How's business?"
"What's it look like?" Mo snarled. "My life is a room full of stinkin' drunks. What could be better?"
Ringo gave Miller an amused glance, but nothing much seemed to amuse Miller these days. The older Ranger signaled for two beers and slumped on the bar. Ringo leaned back against the rail in a position of uneasy authority, surveying the room.
The kid asked, "Hey, Mo, you seen Stew?"
"What am I, your social secretary? Don't you guys have an office?" Mo slammed down two mugs of frothy fungi brew. "Yer table is free there, Rangers."
Miller took a deep swig and carefully stroked the foam from his thin moustache. "We can't stay long. We're on duty."
"Oh?" Mo smiled darkly. "That's swell. I keep an empty table for you and you take up space at the bar too. Okay. Sure. That's just fine." He went to pour more liquor while muttering, "Maybe I should just move all the tables out so you Rangers can have a little dance floor or something."
Ringo looked concerned. "I think we made him mad."
Miller rolled his eyes. "Poor baby. Drink up, kid."
The door flew open again and a frantic man entered. He glanced around the saloon, holding the door open so the room filled with winter.
Mo screamed, "Shut the damn door or I'll stab you to death!"
The man hurriedly closed the door and zeroed in on the two Rangers at the bar. He was wide-eyed and his lips quivered from the cold. He seized Ringo's jacket with blue-knuckled fingers and tried to speak, but he couldn't get the words out. Ringo glanced at Miller who continued to drink and ignored the shivering man.
"A—a—anouks," the man stammered.
"Anouks?" Ringo asked. "Anouks what?"
Miller huffed. "Shove him away, Ringo."
Ringo said, "Easy, Miller. Something's wrong with this guy."
"Yeah, he's drunk. Or crazy. These days in Temptation, who can tell? And who cares."
The young Ranger turned his back on his sarcastic partner and focused on the shivering man. Color was beginning to return to the man's lips. His hair dripped with melting ice. "Take your time. Relax. Tell me what's going on."
The man swallowed and caught his faltering breath. "I just saw two anouks."
Miller laughed and tipped his beer glass. "Another couple of these and I might too."
Ringo asked, "Saw two anouks? Where?"
"In the street." The man pointed toward the door. "Two anouks and one of their monsters."
Miller feigned fear. "Oh no! Monsters."
Ringo said, "Shut up, Miller."
The man went on to the sympathetic Ringo, "Yes, one of those things they ride. Chanouks. One of those things. There were two anouks, just walking down the street like they owned the place. One of them was a big guy, a warrior with all sorts of weapons hanging off him. The other was a female. Real tall. But she was old."
Ringo and Miller looked at each other with alarm.
The two Rangers approached the Ecumenical Church in the darkness. Their breath misted into the air and ice pellets peppered their faces. They were disturbed to see people milling about on the frigid street, many of them armed. The citizens noticed the Rangers and hefted their guns higher. Now something would happen, they seemed to be saying.
"Damn it." Miller checked the load in his scattergun. "Where're Fitz and Chennault? Get back on the COM and get an ETA. The whole neighborhood is out here with guns."
Ringo tapped his com unit and determined that Fitz and Chennault were only minutes away from the scene. They had not been able to raise Stew, but were still trying.
An armed citizen stepped in front of Miller, waving a rifle. "What's going on, Ranger? I heard we're being raided by anouks."
Miller slapped the rifle barrel down. "Nobody's being raided by anybody." Then he shouted futilely against the wind, "Everybody go home! Get off the streets!"
For the few who heard, that order only sparked more concern of imminent danger. The man with the rifle shouted back, "There's anouks inside the city! I seen 'em!"
Miller yelled, "Shut up about that or I'll arrest you! I'm telling you there are no anouks in this town!"
An anouk stepped into the street.
The native warrior emerged from the shadow of a partially collapsed alleyway, his eyes blazing at the two Colonial Rangers. He clutched a glowing atax in his right hand. He looked none too happy. Ringo noticed the tall, muscular, anouk before the crowd did. He recognized the scar. It was Fareel.
Suddenly, someone in the crowd spotted him too and shouted. People spun around. Some screamed and ran for cover. Rifles and shotguns rose.
Ringo ran out in front of Fareel as the warrior raised his atax. The Ranger faced his fellow citizens with his hands in the air, yelling for calm. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Then the kid remembered that they hadn't parted on pleasant terms with Fareel. The Rangers carried Debbi's body out of Castle Rock against Martool's wishes.
Still, Ringo's head moved left and right, trying to make calming eye contact with every armed member of the spooked crowd. He backed closer to the anouk expecting that any second a panicked trigger finger could end Fareel's life and
his own. Then the young Ranger felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and a guttural shout in some anouk tongue.
Miller raised his weapon when he saw Fareel grab Ringo, but the kid kept his head and motioned for his partner to hold his fire. Ringo looked back at the towering warrior. The anouk spoke to the kid again with an angry impatience.
Fareel wanted something. He wasn't here to fight. At least, not immediately. Ringo gave an exaggerated smile and said in clear, loud words, "I -don't - understand - you."
Miller called out, "Move away from him, kid!"
Ringo could sense the shuffling of nervous townsfolk around him. Second story windows opened and gun barrels protruded into the night air. Only the confusion and hesitation created by the unusual sight of an anouk inside the city might give Ringo the minute or two he would need to get Fareel safely off the street. He grabbed the anouk's arm and tried to pull him forward.
Fareel roared and drew away. Violet energy flashed through the air as the warrior brandished his atax at the young Ranger.
Miller dropped his scattergun. It was useless with Ringo so close to the anouk. Damn fool kid was just standing there waiting to get his head separated from his torso. Miller fumbled inside his coat and pulled a Dragoon. As he raised the weapon, a strong hand pushed it down.
Miller pulled back his fist to slug the interfering citizen. But it was Ross.
The veteran Ranger narrowed his eyes at Miller, freezing him to the spot, and strode past him. He moved rapidly to Ringo's side and interposed his body between the kid and the enraged anouk. Ross rattled off a few sentences of pidgin anouk causing Fareel to lower the atax. The warrior and the captain started barking at each other.
Ringo realized he was out of the mix so he backed away and kept an eye on the restive citizenry with their bristling arsenal.
Miller stepped up beside him. "What's with you, kid? That grape was gonna bury his atax through your skull."
"I don't think so. I'm more worried one of these yahoos will shoot me by accident." He thrust a thumb at the crowd.
After a fast exchange between Ross and Fareel, the warrior returned to the collapsed alley. He emerged in a moment leading another figure from the shadows. Martool.
She looked even older than the Rangers remembered her. She was grayer, her skin wizened. She walked with a slight hunch and a shuffling gait as if the cold caused her discomfort. Even as Fareel supported the shaman, he scanned the street, watching the weapons.
Multiple gun barrels tracked them as they moved. People scuttled from cover to cover. The townsfolk were clearly confused, particularly since Ross had arrived and seemed to be escorting the anouks from the scene.
Ross pointed at the two Rangers. "Ringo, come with us. Miller, get these people off the street before somebody gets shot."
As Ringo fell into step beside his boss, he gave Miller a look of surprise and eager anticipation. Miller met it with a sullen shake of his head.
Ross added, "Oh yeah. Miller, there's a chanouk back in that alley. How about bringing it to the office and tying it up in the equipment yard. Find it some food too. It hasn't eaten in a few days. So don't get your hand near its snout."
"What?" Miller stared after the departing group. Then he looked at his right hand and imagined it a bloody stump. "Dammit. Just like always. Animal control."
Chapter 8
The front door to Miss Etta's boarding house burst open. A rude and frigid wind slashed the polite company gathered before the fire in the front parlor. Everyone turned to the disturbance. A startled Mr. Horton blurted out an uncharacteristic expletive. Mrs. Wilshire dropped her knitting.
The company watched the Ranger captain hold the door while a towering anouk warrior escorted a frail female native into the cozy confines of their boarding house. The natives' muddy, clawed feet trod roughly across the hand-hooked rug on the floor. The warrior's bold movements were accompanied by the clanking of evil, sharp tannis-bladed weaponry. The old witch was festooned with feathers and bones and tannis totems. A young Colonial Ranger followed the natives and closed the door behind them. Then the young man quickly reached up and removed his hat because he was indoors and that was the polite thing to do.
Miss Etta stood up from her seat at the fireplace. She cradled the massive feline McDuff in her arms and approached the new arrivals. Her face betrayed no more surprise than if the mailman had just arrived. "Well, Captain Ross, I see you found your guests."
Ross unwrapped his frayed scarf and nodded with clipped politeness. "Yes ma'am. Right where she said they'd be."
"How strange." The hardened old woman smiled at Martool. Then she cast a less welcoming glance at Fareel. "Can I get you all some food?"
"Sure. I expect they're pretty hungry coming all the way from Castle Rock."
"Fine. What do these folks eat?"
Fareel stared at McDuff with narrow eyes.
Miss Etta tightened her grip on the cat. "None of that," she chastised the warrior.
Ross asked her, "How is she?"
"Fine. She's in her room with Stew."
Ross extended his arm down the hall. Fareel ushered Martool along, with his eyes still locked on the cat. Ringo smiled politely to Miss Etta as he passed, following the anouks down the creaking floorboards. Ross came impatiently behind.
Ringo wasn't sure what was happening. Maybe this had something to do with Quantrill. Maybe Ross was teaming up with Martool and her clan again. Ringo trusted Ross had his reasons for bringing anouks here. After all, Miss Etta was probably the sole person in Temptation who would to tolerate anouks under her roof.
The odd group passed down the hallway, its carpeted runner still stained with batrat blood. It was strange for Ringo to watch the massive, powerful anouks moving inside the familiar confines of a human house, so used to seeing them in the rough setting of Castle Rock. It only served to make them seem wilder and humans even more sedate.
Fareel and Martool stopped with eerie surety in front of the door to Debbi's old room. The kid's stomach twisted into a knot. The strangeness of the whole evening had caused him to overlook that this was Debbi's boarding house. Now they were outside her old room. Voices wafted from inside. Strange, familiar voices. The hallway took on a weird, dreamlike state as the door opened.
Debbi stood there. She smiled in her wide, open way when she saw Martool. She laughed convulsively and tears welled in her eyes. Debbi reached out and embraced the old shaman. Martool cried out with joy and enfolded the young woman in her bony arms.
After a moment, Martool pulled back and took Debbi's face between her clawed hands. The shaman studied the human's green eyes for a long minute. Then she pulled Debbi's face into her chest and held it there. Her huge dark eyes glistened brightly with sheer joy.
Ross called from behind Ringo. "Inside."
Debbi stepped aside to let Martool shuffle in. Fareel stood rod-straight, staring at Debbi with a mixture of fear and awe. She backhanded the warrior good-naturedly on his muscular chest. He flinched and scuttled past her.
Then Debbi's green eyes turned to Ringo. She lit up and grabbed the kid.
"Ringo!" She pulled him in and hugged him.
The young Ranger felt disappointed. All this and it was just a dream. Many nights in the last few months, he'd dreamed that Debbi was still alive. He'd spent those nighttime periods floating in elation only to wake to wallow in a renewed sense of desolation. Now he'd have to go through it again and wake up to another morning of misery. How long until these dreams stopped?
Debbi put her arm around the kid's shoulder and led him into her room. Ringo had a polite, forbearing smile on his face. She stared at him carefully. "This is a shock, I guess."
"No, not really." Ringo spotted Stew across the room and waved. Odd. Stew wasn't usually involved in these dreams. In fact, this one was much more involved and detailed. His nose was still wet from the cold. He could actually smell Fareel and feel the wooden floor under his boots. Typically the only thing he remembered feeling was the warmth of
Debbi's touch.
Debbi glanced at Ross who shrugged. The older Ranger took Ringo by the arm and put him in a wooden chair against the wall. Then Ross said, "Maybe the kid's got nerves of steel. Or maybe he's just in shock. Give him time to get his head around it."
Ringo sat complacently.
Martool took Debbi's hand. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long. A day or so."
"Not even," Ross volunteered. "Martool, I know you've got that native juju that let you know she was alive, but how'd you get here so fast?"
Martool glanced briefly at Ross without great affection. "I knew she would wake."
"What?" Ross shouted. "You knew? Then why the hell didn't you tell me? If you knew she was still alive then what was all the tooth gnashing you were doing back at Castle Rock? We've been through hell here!"
Fareel growled at Ross for his impertinence.
Martool replied to the furious Ranger, "She was not still alive. But I knew she would return." The shaman gently stroked Debbi's face. "While it was written that you would wake, I could not see how you would wake. I was afraid you might have died on unclean ground. Then I would have had to deal with you." The shaman studied Debbi. "But you have returned to us whole and untainted."
Debbi laid her hand over Martool's. "Folks aren't comfortable seeing anouks strolling through town. You took a big risk coming here."
"I had to come." The shaman's face showed concern, an odd expression for an anouk.
Debbi responded dismissively, "I feel fine. Whatever happened to me at Castle Rock, I'm over it now. What's the big deal?"
Ross said, "You didn't just get over the flu. You came back from the dead."
Martool said, "It is my place to prepare you."
"Prepare me for what?" Debbi asked.
"For your place." Martool reached into a bag hanging from her belt and removed a piece of tannis. She handed it to Debbi. The Ranger took the stone casually, but soon looked at it with curiosity. Martool said, "Tell me about it."
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