by Mark Anthony
A puff of air caressed his cheeks–warm rather than cold, smelling of steel and soot.
In Castle City, Travis had often stood on the boardwalk in front of the Mine Shaft Saloon, facing toward the mountains. He would feel an ache of possibility in his chest as he waited for the wind, wondering what it might blow his way. Only he knew what this wind was bringing. Already he could feel the tiles vibrating beneath his knees.
“Vani, Beltan! Get back!”
The two hesitated, then stepped away from the edge. Travis stood and grabbed Deirdre, pulling her and Nim back. The first gorleths, three of them, started to scramble up onto the platform, their eyes glowing with malice. They opened their fanged maws and roared.
The roar grew louder, deeper, filling the tunnel like thunder. The gorlethsshut their maws, but the roar continued. Their pale eyes flickered with confusion, and they turned to look down the tunnel–
–just as the oncoming train struck them.
Two of the gorlethswent flying through the air, their bodies limp and broken before they crashed onto the tiles. The third was caught between the train and the platform, its body smearing into a stripe of black jelly. The gorlethsin the trench shrieked, then their cries were cut short.
Beltan, Vani, and Deirdre all stared, motionless with shock, but Travis knew they only had a moment. The ice had melted. Already the gorlethsfrom the stairwells were loping toward them across the platform. The train slowed, wheels screeching in protest.
“Everyone!” Travis shouted. “Get into the train!”
His words shattered their paralysis; they started moving. The train rattled to a stop, and a set of doors whooshed open before them.
Anders stood on the other side.
“Hello there, mates,” he said in his cheery, gravelly voice. As usual, the Seeker wore a sleek designer suit that could barely contain the bulk of his shoulders. His close‑cropped hair looked freshly bleached–an unnatural contrast to his dark beard and eyebrows.
“Anders,” Deirdre breathed. “How–?”
Travis shoved Deirdre, pushing her through the doors.
“Mind the gap,” intoned a voice over the loudspeakers. The gorlethssnarled as they drew close. Vani and Beltan jumped into the train, Travis on their heels.
“Close the doors!” Anders shouted into a black walkie‑talkie.
The doors whooshed shut just as the gorlethsstruck them. The train rocked under the blow. Vani and Beltan stumbled back, and talons slipped through the crack between the doors, wrenching them open. A snarling head shot through the gap, and before Travis could scream, the thing’s maw clamped around his upper arm.
The gorleth’steeth sank easily into his flesh. He could see the creature’s gullet moving. It was suckling, pulling blood out of the wound with terrible force, swallowing it. A buzzing noise filled Travis’s ears. The world began to go white, and he no longer felt pain.
He watched through a veil as Vani and Beltan shoved on the doors, closing them, catching the creature’s neck as in a vise. It opened its maw to let out a hiss, releasing Travis’s arm. Travis stumbled back, and Beltan’s sword flashed. The gorleth’shead rolled to the floor, and the doors clamped shut. Outside the windows of the train the creature’s decapitated body slumped backward onto the tiles.
Vani took Nim from Deirdre. The girl was not crying. Her face was ashen and her eyes were circles of fear as she stared at Travis.
“Anders,” Deirdre said, grabbing her partner’s arm, “get this train running again.”
“You got it, mate.” Anders raised the walkie‑talkie and pressed a button. “Eustace, take us out of the station. Now.”
The train lurched into motion, pulling away from the platform. Travis caught one last glimpse of the remaining gorlethson the edge of the platform, swarming around the headless body of their kin. Then the train passed into the darkness of a tunnel, and he felt strong hands lowering him into a seat.
“Travis, are you all right?” It was Beltan, his green eyes worried.
“He has lost much blood,” Vani said.
Before Anders could react, she tore one of the sleeves from his suit coat and bound it around Travis’s arm.
“Hey, now!” Anders said, annoyance on his pitted face. “You don’t just go making bandages out of Armani.”
Travis shook his head. The fog was beginning to lift. “I’m fine, really. I just got dizzy for a moment.”
But was it the loss of blood that had made him dizzy, or the smell of it? It filled his nostrils now: the rich, coppery scent. Were the morndaristill sated? Could he not call them to him with blood such as his?
“Travis?” Beltan touched his cheek.
He focused on the blond man’s face, letting the desire to work blood sorcery fade away. Only it didn’t, not completely.
Deirdre slumped back against one of the seats. “How did you find us?” she said to Anders. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“I got your message, mate,” Anders said, gripping a pole as the train rattled around a corner. “I must have just missed you, only when I called back you didn’t answer. It sounded like you’d gotten yourself into a bit of a scrape, so I decided to investigate. I went to the Bond Street station to hop on the Tube to Travis and Beltan’s neighborhood, and I knew something was definitely wrong when I ran into this chap.”
The Seeker picked up something resting on one of the seats: a gold mask. There was a small hole between the mask’s eyes.
“Needless to say, I was a bit surprised,” Anders continued, clearly enjoying telling the story. “This fellow here wiggled his fingers at me, and I suppose my heart should have exploded. Only I think something made his magic go all wonky. He got flustered, and I took the chance to get a shot off. Turns out their masks don’t stop bullets so well. Eustace showed up then. You remember him, Deirdre–the new apprentice you met the other day, scrappy lad. He had caught some chatter on the police radio scanners, something about a commotion at the Green Park station, and right away we had a pretty good notion what was up. So Eustace headed to the front of the train. There was no sign of the driver, but he got the train running, and here we are.”
Deirdre stood and gave Anders a fierce hug.
Surprise registered in his vivid blue eyes and–for a moment, Travis thought–a note of wistfulness. “Now there, mate, that’s enough of that. You would have done the same for me. Besides, I don’t think partners are supposed to fraternize quite like this.” He gently pushed her away.
“Are we heading to the Charterhouse?” she asked.
“On the double. I’d say it’s the only safe place in the city for these folks right now.”
“I do not understand this,” Vani said, sitting next to Travis. Nim was curled up on her lap. The girl’s eyes were closed now, but Travis was certain she was listening to every word. “There is no way the Scirathi could know I brought Nim to Earth,” Vani went on, her face hard with anger. She looked at Travis. “How could they have followed me across the Void, let alone to your home?”
Anders cleared his throat. “Actually, miss, I don’t think they did. I found something on the body of that sorcerer fellow– something that tells me it wasn’t your daughter they were after.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of stiff paper. It was a photograph of a man.
“By the Blade of Vathris,” Beltan growled. “I swear I’ll kill them all!”
Another wave of dizziness swept over Travis, and not just from loss of blood. The man in the photo was him.
14.
It was far after midnight by the time they gathered in a mahogany‑paneled parlor in the Seekers’ London Charterhouse.
Deirdre sank down into one of the parlor’s comfortably shabby chairs. For the first time since they heard the sound of glass breaking in Travis’s and Beltan’s flat her heart rate slowed to a normal cadence, and a feeling of safety encapsulated her, as familiar and reassuring as the embrace of the wing‑backed chair.
It had taken over two
hours to get through all of the Charterhouse’s security checkpoints. While it hadn’t been difficult to gain entry for Travis and Beltan–their files were on record with the Seekers–new dossiers had to be created for Vani and Nim. Fingers were printed, retinas scanned, and Deirdre’s authorization codes processed. She had thought the security guards would call Director Nakamura for confirmation, but to her surprise they hadn’t. It seemed Echelon 7 clearance was good for more than just access to Seeker databases.
“How long can we stay in this place?” Vani said, prowling around a Chippendale sofa where Nim lay curled up. The T’gollimped slightly, favoring her injured leg. The nurse–there was always one on duty at the Charterhouse–had cleaned and bandaged the wound.
“You can stay as long as you need to,” Deirdre said.
Vani gripped the laminated ID badge that hung from a lanyard around her neck. “And we can leave at any time?”
“Of course you can leave,” Anders said, hanging his torn suit coat on the back of a chair. “Not that I’d recommend it. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not exactly safe out there.”
Vani spun around, advancing on him. “You Seekers are arrogant fools. I have watched you. You believe you know everything, yet there is so much you cannot understand. Is it truly so safe here?”
“Not if you keep talking like that, it isn’t,” Anders growled, cracking his knuckles.
Vani treated the Seeker to a scornful look. “If you think simply because you have large muscles that you have any chance against me, then you deceive yourself.”
“It sounds to me like you’re the cocky one,” Anders said. “Just because you’re some superspooky assassin type doesn’t mean you know every trick in the book. I worked security long before I became a Seeker, and I don’t need muscles to take out the likes of you. Go on, Deirdre. Tell her how I aced all those logic tests the Seekers gave me.”
Beltan interposed himself between the Seeker and the T’gol. He faced Anders. “I doubt I’d do very good on those tests, but my logic tells me you’d better back off if you want to keep your brain inside your skull.” He glared at Vani. “You, too. Do you think this is a good example for Nim?”
Vani’s scowl became a worried expression. “She is asleep.”
“Not anymore,” Travis said.
Nim was sitting up on the sofa, her gray eyes wide. “Are you going to hurt the bad man, Mother?”
Deirdre pushed herself from the chair, then knelt on the carpet next to the sofa. “Don’t be afraid, Nim. Anders isn’t a bad man.”
“Yes he is. That’s why Mother wants to hurt him.”
“No, he’s my partner, and he helped us get away from the monsters. Don’t you remember?”
Nim hesitated, then nodded.
“Anders and your mother are just a little tired, that’s all. We’re all tired.” Deirdre smiled, touching the girl’s chin. “You, too, I bet. Why don’t you go to sleep?”
Nim held her hands out before her. “No, I don’t want to sleep. I won’t see the gold men if my eyes are closed. They want to take me away from my mother because I’m a key. That’s what they tell me, only their mouths don’t move.”
“Hush, daughter,” Vani said, sitting on the arm of the sofa and stroking Nim’s dark hair. “There is no need to fear. You are safe here.”
“That’s right,” Deirdre said, doing her best to sound convincing. But they weresafe there. Underneath all the rich wood paneling, every door in the Charterhouse was made of tempered steel fitted with electronic locks. This parlor was like a bank vault. Nothing could pass the doors. Or the windows. “Show her, Anders.”
The Seeker moved to one of the windows. “See that little beam of green light here? That’s a laser. Look what happens if something gets in the way of that beam.” Anders stuck a finger in the path of the laser beam–then snatched his hand back just in time to keep it from getting smashed as a row of gleaming metal bars whooshed into place, covering the window.
Nim clapped her hands. “Again!”
After several more demonstrations of the automatic safety features of the windows and doors, Nim was finally content to lie down on the sofa. She yawned and stuck a finger in her mouth, and her breathing grew slow as her eyes drooped shut.
Deirdre would have liked to curl up herself, but there was too much to try to understand. They moved to the other side of the parlor and spoke in low voices so as not to disturb Nim. A sleepy‑eyed butler brought coffee, and Deirdre helped Anders pour cups for all of them.
“It’s not fair,” he grumbled in a low voice as they stood at a sideboard, backs to the others. “I get the train rolling along, smash all the baddies, and somehow I’m still the bad man.”
“Don’t worry about Nim. She just doesn’t know you like I do. Remember, I didn’t exactly trust you at first, either.”
However, in the time since, Deirdre had learned that she could rely on Anders in any situation. In fact, she trusted Anders more than she had ever trusted Hadrian Farr. With Farr, she had always felt there was some deeper agenda she didn’t know about, that if he ever thought he needed to, he would abandon her in an instant. Then he had, and now she knew why. Somehow he had found a doorway to Eldh, and he had taken it, leaving her behind. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for that.
Only she did. Farr had found what they had always sought together, and he had gone on without her. Something told her Anders wouldn’t do the same–that if he found a portal to another world, he would hold the door open like a gentleman and let her go first.
“You trust me now, don’t you, mate?” he said, pouring cream.
She laid a hand on his broad shoulder, drawing closer. Anders wasn’t handsome, but damn if he didn’t always smell good. . . .
Stop it right now, Deirdre.
Her hand pulled back. She wasn’t certain when she realized she could fall in love with Anders if she let herself. It wasn’t at all like what she had felt for Farr when she first met him. Back then, she had been as infatuated with the idea of the Seekers as with Farr’s film noir good looks. It was hard to say which of them had seduced her.
With Anders, it was different. There had been so much to get through: her mistrust, the fact that he had worked security, and the realization that underneath that heavy Cro‑Magnon brow lurked a sharp mind. Even then she probably wouldn’t have realized the truth if it hadn’t been for Sasha.
“Quit glowing,” Sasha had said to her one day.
“What?” Deirdre had said, utterly confused.
“I said quit glowing. You’re like a night‑light.”
Deirdre was scandalized. “I don’t glow.”
“You do when you look at Anders,” Sasha had said with a wicked grin. “Grant you, we’ve all gotten rather attached to the big lug, and not simply because he makes heavenly coffee. But it’s best to keep one’s professional relationships from becoming unprofessional. And by that I mean personal. I know you agree, darling.”
Just to confuse things, which Sasha had a great fondness for, she gave Deirdre a warm kiss on the lips before sauntering away on her lanky supermodel legs.
Ever since then, Deirdre had been careful, and as far as she knew Anders didn’t suspect anything. Which was good. Deirdre valued him too much as a partner and a friend to ever do anything to jeopardize their relationship.
“Come on,” she said, leading the way as he carried a tray of coffee cups to a table in the corner. While Nim slept, the adults gathered around the table, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
“So it was me they came looking for,” Travis said, looking at Vani, “not you and Nim.” He touched the bandage on his arm and winced.
Vani circled her hands around her cup. “Yes, but it does not matter, for they have learned I brought Nim to Earth. There is nowhere I can take her now that will be safe from them.”
“But why do they want us?” Travis said, his gray eyes serious. For the first time Deirdre noticed that they were flecked with gold, just like Nim�
��s.
“You’re the one fated to raise Morindu,” Beltan said. “They must know that.”
“That is impossible,” Vani said, her visage darkening. “Besides the people in this room, and Grace Beckett and her closest companions on Eldh, only a few among the Mournish know this fact. I do not believe our closest friends have betrayed us to the Scirathi.”
“All the same,” Beltan said, using a cloth to wipe the edge of his sword, “they must know. And that means the Scirathi will come again.”
Deirdre cast a glance at the sofa where Nim lay. Something the girl had said echoed in her mind. “What did she mean?” She turned her gaze on Vani. “Nim said something about how the Scirathi wanted her because they think she’s a key. A key to what?”
Vani sighed, brushing her sleek hair from her brow. “I do not know what she means. A few times she has told me that the Scirathi have spoken to her. However, her story keeps changing. First she said they told her she was a precious jewel, then it was a little spider, and now it’s this–a key, she says. But I can only imagine she was dreaming. They have never gotten close enough to speak to her.”
“Haven’t they?” Travis said. “They were right outside her bedroom window tonight. Besides, you’ve forgotten how . . .” He cast a furtive glance at Beltan. “She’s not like other children, Vani. You know she’s not.”
Deirdre had heard the story: how the fairies had tricked Beltan and Vani, making each believe the other was Travis. While under the fairy spell, they had conceived Nim between them. Only it was more than that. Duratek had performed experiments on Beltan, infusing him with fairy blood. In a way, Nim was a fairy child. What that meant, Deirdre wasn’t sure, but the girl was certainly not a typical three‑year‑old.