The horses reared and screamed with fear but refused to move forward.
Miryam called to him from the other side of the carriage. “It’s no use, Les. Climb down here. Hurry.”
He jumped down beside her. She pulled Leila from the carriage, held her by the hand. “Hold her other hand and don’t let go,” Miryam instructed. “I’ll try to take us through to the secret woods.”
“What about Hamlyn?”
“We’ll have to leave him.”
Leila began a mournful keening. Miryam clamped a hand over her mouth. “Hush, dear. Quiet,” she cautioned.
Leading Leila and Les, Miryam set out at a slow, deliberate pace across the road and into the empty field on the other side, walking in a straight line from the carriage so the vehicle would shield them from the view of the watchers on the porch.
One of those watchers gave a shout. The horses whinnied and broke into a wild run. The carriage clattered and rocked along the rough stone street, bearing Doss Hamlyn with it. Behind him Les heard someone running toward them.
The steps drew near, then grew more distant, though they did not seem to slow and Miryam did not quicken her pace. They walked into a cold, gray mist and out of it onto a tree-shaded path. A soft sense of peace settled about them. It was near dusk, and birds sang sleepy melodies from the woods. Miryam led them on to the clearing where they had paused before.
“We made it,” she said. “I don’t think they can follow us here.” Dropping Leila’s hand, she sank wearily to the ground beside a large tree root.
Leila gazed about in bewilderment. “Where …?”
“It’s another place, another world,” Miryam answered.
Leila gave her an uncomprehending look.
“Dr. Tenney’s done something to her mind,” Miryam said. “I don’t know if I can heal her. I’ll try, but I have to rest first. Don’t let her wander off.” She leaned her head against the tree root and closed her eyes.
Les felt tired and shaky, too, but he dared not follow Miryam’s example. He held on to Leila and walked around the clearing. His mind was in turmoil. He kept seeing that thick-soled boot smashing the moth, grinding it to nothing. How could Veronica have let herself be trapped and killed?
And Trevor. Dark shadows had ringed Trevor’s eyes; a nasty red gash circled his neck. He’d been shirtless, his chest and back bathed in blood. He’d looked half dead. Yet he’d found the courage and strength to drive that glass into Tenney’s back.
Peter would not have crushed the moth, nor would he have gone to Carl’s aid. The real Peter must be dead; Tenney must have been badly injured and had overcome that injury by transferring his consciousness into Peter’s body.
If Tenney could save himself in that way, Veronica might have avoided death. She was as strong as Tenney. Stronger, maybe.
He remembered seeing a mouse scamper across the floor just before Trevor tried to pick up the moth. He recalled Veronica telling him that her consciousness rode in the moth. Could she have transferred it to the mouse in that fateful moment?
His grip on Leila’s hand loosened. “Veronica,” he said softly. Then louder, “Veronica. If you’re alive, hear me, please. We need your help more than ever.”
From deep within the woods an owl hooted. Leila pulled her hand from his and dashed into the woods. Les sped after her, but she leaped and dodged like a frightened foal. He ran into a spiderweb, brushed its sticky strands from his face and hair, and rushed on. A branch caught his hair; he paused to disentangle it.
He could no longer see Leila in the closeness of the woods and the gathering darkness. Bushes rustled to his right. He made his way in that direction, shouting her name.
A chorus of night insects snapped on as if cued by an invisible conductor. No other sound answered his frantic cries. He kept going, kept calling, refusing to abandon the search.
He heard a splash. The creek! He remembered seeing it before. Leila might have had fallen in. He ran toward the sound, tripped over a tree root, fell, picked himself up, and limped forward a few more steps.
The gurgle of the creek alerted him in time to keep from toppling in. Anxiously he scanned the dark water for Leila’s blue skirt. Seeing nothing, he lifted his gaze to the far bank.
Moonlight fell on a grassy strip that sloped up toward another stand of trees. Leila was seated on the grass; in front of her stood a large white owl.
The owl’s head swiveled to meet Les’s astonished gaze. “Who-ooo,” it said.
Leila giggled.
“Veronica?” Les breathed the question.
CHAPTER TWENTY
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS
With a suddenness that nearly toppled him, Trevor could move again. More important, freed from the paralysis that had descended not only on his body but on his mind as well, he could think.
Leila had been here. And her father. They had come to help him, though he hadn’t responded to the note they’d given him when Tenney had presented him and Carl to the Community. Les must have brought them. He had been here, too—and had escaped again.
With no power, Les had done what Trevor with all his power could not do. But Les had Miryam’s help, while his own power was bound to Carl.
Trevor’s throat tightened from the pain that Carl was sending to compensate for his hurt pride and for his mistreatment by Les and the man whose body Dr. Tenney had taken.
In that body, Dr. Tenney paced back and forth in the empty downstairs room to which he’d taken them when it became clear that Les, Miryam, and Leila had evaded him.
“Clever they were, too clever,” he muttered, stopping to pick up a pipe and fill it. “Almost had me. Shouldn’t have been able to do that. Left me too weak to stop ’em from getting away. Not used to this body, have to learn to manipulate it.”
He lit the pipe, drew in, and was struck with a fit of coughing. “Damnably annoying,” the Adept muttered when the coughing subsided. “Should have remembered that Peter never smoked. It’ll take some getting used to before I can enjoy my pipe again. Another thing to hold against him and his friends.”
He resumed pacing, wearing a clear trail through the dust that covered the floor. As he passed Trevor, he glared. “Lucky for you young Peter was handy. It was a simple matter for me to slip into his body and take it over. Otherwise I would have grabbed yours. No chance of them actually killing me, though they did a good bit of harm. This body is younger and healthier, but I prefer my own. More used to it.”
Unable to speak, Trevor could only turn his head to show his contempt. Against his will, his head turned back so that his gaze again met the Adept’s.
Tenney continued, “When I find Carl’s sister, I’ll force her to heal my body so I can get back into it. Then they’ll pay for what they’ve done, and so will you. Second time you’ve tried to kill me. Thought you’d learned your lesson after that first time. You’ll learn this time, no question about it.” He headed for the stairs. “Come with me,” he called over his shoulder.
In spite of his difficulty breathing, Trevor had to respond to Tenney’s command. He marched after the Adept like an automaton. Carl stalked beside him, sending him furious glances along with stabs of pain throughout his body.
Dr. Tenney led them into his laboratory. In front of the doctor lay the twisted and partially melted remains of his metal servant. Beyond that ruined figure lay overturned tables, the devices that had been on them scattered, broken, and burned.
Tenney shook his head sadly. “This will have been Peter’s work,” he said. “He was always creative with his manipulation of fire.” He stepped over the crushed servant and picked his way through the debris, stopped to pick up a strip of metal and a mangled length of wire. “Well, he’s paying for it.”
Carl looked startled. “You mean that guy you took over wasn’t dead after I slammed him against the stove?”
“No, of course not,” the doctor answered impatiently while righting tables and placing on them the ruined remnants of his machines. “It would hav
e done me no good to go from an injured body to a dead one. You know I’m not a healer. Peter was only unconscious.”
“So what happened to him when you took over his body?” Carl persisted. “Didn’t that kill him?”
“No, he’ll survive as long as his body does. His essence exists in a diffuse state, only semiconscious, but able, I trust, to suffer. Tch! Look at this!” He interrupted his explanation to pick up the cylindrical device he’d used to transport Trevor and Miryam to this laboratory. The cylinder was crushed flat and disconnected from the base, which was still relatively intact.
The Adept examined it intently. “It will take a good deal of work, but this might be reparable.” His gaze roved over the other debris, and he shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s little else that is.”
Trevor was not interested in the condition of the doctor’s machinery. He was fascinated by the information Dr. Tenney had imparted about the man whose body the Adept had taken over. It might be possible to save that man and drive the doctor out of his body.
It might, but not by any power of Trevor’s.
Dr. Tenney kicked a piece of broken glass, sent it scudding across the floor. Trevor glanced at it and was reminded of the moth, freed from the jar only to be so callously crushed. Veronica might have had the ability to dispossess the doctor, if she had survived.
Dr. Tenney returned from his walk through the wreckage and confronted Trevor and Carl. “All my enhancers, destroyed,” he said angrily. “So much work, gone in seconds. I wonder if they think that will stop me. If so, they’ve made a fatal error.”
He rubbed his hands together and gazed intently first into Trevor’s eyes, then into Carl’s. “These mechanical power enhancers were efficient but not the best. No, the best enhancers are the human variety.” His twisted smile turned Peter’s handsome face into a demon’s visage. “That’s a secret Carl knows well, don’t you, my friend?”
Carl didn’t answer.
Dr. Tenney chuckled. “Human enhancers, all under my control, all contributing their diverse gifts to the power pool that I alone may draw from. That’s far better than anything my enemies have destroyed here.” With a broad wave of his hand, he dismissed the ruined laboratory.
“Come.” He beckoned, and Carl and Trevor fell into step behind him as he strode from the laboratory and went down the hall to his study. “I’ll call a meeting of the Community. It’s time I put those dilettantes to good use.”
He sat down at his desk and took out paper and pen. While Trevor stood behind his chair, helpless to move except at the Adept’s command, and Carl watched from a distance, Dr. Tenney penned one letter after another. “Think of it,” he said cheerfully as he wrote. “A whole crowd of gifted, ready to do my bidding. I can transform them all into my personal enhancers. There’s nothing I can’t do, nothing I can’t have, when I control the Community. And you, my young friends, will have the privilege of facilitating that control.”
He paused, blotted the ink on his latest note, and turned to look at the two young men, the terrible smile again distorting Peter’s face. “Hamlyn has headed up the opposition to me, he and that gifted daughter of his. But they’re out of the way. Their attack on me left them open to my counterattack. I doubt Leila has much of a mind left, and Hamlyn is in no condition to attend a meeting. He may recover, but I don’t intend to wait for that. I’ll act before my enemies have a chance to regroup.”
He carefully folded the letters he’d written and set himself to writing more. “These will go to every member of the Community,” he explained. “I’m requesting a meeting tomorrow at noon at a home where we often meet because it has a garden large enough to accommodate us all. Of course, ‘I’ will be unable to attend, and I trust that Doss Hamlyn will be similarly indisposed. However, his friend and employee, Peter Loftman, will attend in his place. And you, Carl, will be Dr. Tenney’s representative. You do excel at deception; you should have no difficulty in convincing my partisans to accede to my request.”
Carl perked up, peeled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against, and stepped forward. “What request is that?” he asked.
“To spare you some of their power for a struggle against forces that would destroy the Community,” Dr. Tenney explained as he continued to write his invitations.
“And if they ask what forces those are?” Carl was asking the questions Trevor would have asked, had he been able to speak.
“Forces led by that witch, Veronica. It’s well known that she opposes the Community as it is now, though she was a leading part of it at one time.”
Yes, Trevor thought bitterly, and if I’d believed what she told me about it, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
“You may say that both Doss Hamlyn’s illness and my indisposition are due to her machinations,” Dr. Tenney continued. He chuckled and added, looking disgustingly pleased, “That’s true in a sense. If she had not interfered, none of this would have come about. She’s done me a great favor; pity she’ll never know it.”
That reminder of the crushing of the moth turned Trevor’s stomach.
“What’s his part in this?” Carl asked, jerking his thumb toward Trevor.
“Ah, yes, we mustn’t forget him, must we?” Dr. Tenney smirked at Trevor. “He plays a very important part—a dual role. First, his power will be at your disposal, enabling you to exercise your gift to the fullest. As each person opens himself to allow you to take a portion of power, you will draw on Trevor for the strength you need to take it all. You cannot keep that power, which brings us to our friend’s secondary role. Even an Adept cannot be everywhere and see everything at once, so our Mr. Blake will be the link between us, preventing you, with your own thirst for power, from holding back some of what you take. He will serve as a conduit, the power draining from you, and immediately flowing through him to me. That will take place because of the link I created between you and because I control you both. However, I do not mean to leave you powerless, my boy. When you have completed your task, you may drain all that remains of Trevor’s power. It will be my gift to you, a reward for doing a good job.”
Carl grinned at that prospect. Trevor was helpless to protest, not that a protest would have been of any use. He’d been reduced to nothing more than an instrument to aid Dr. Tenney in achieving his purpose.
The Adept left no doubt as to what that purpose was. “By tomorrow night,” he said, “the entire Community will be under my control, and all its combined power will be mine. With that power there is nothing I cannot accomplish. I can rule the country if I so desire.”
By now he had a sizable stack of folded papers. He rose from his desk chair. “Now, Carl, be a good boy and go fetch us a carriage,” he said. “Then you will both accompany me and help deliver these invitations.”
He’s got to be stopped, Trevor thought as they awaited Carl’s return. I can’t kill him directly, but if Carl and I died suddenly while he’s linked to us by the power channeled through us, I think it would weaken him—maybe kill him.
I’ve got to try it. Carl will kill me anyway when he’s taken all my power. I’d rather die in a way that will stop Tenney.
It was a weak plan, but he could think of no other. Nor could he think of a way to accomplish it, with Tenney allowing him no freedom of movement and Carl controlling his power.
He had to find something, some talent that lay outside Carl’s ability to control.
Carl returned and announced the arrival of the carriage. Dr. Tenney escorted Trevor from the house, dickered with the driver, and settled himself and his two companions into the carriage for the ride into town.
As the horse clopped along, Trevor reviewed every way in which he’d ever used his power. Summoning Les to his side had been his most frequent use, but Carl had a firm lock on his sending ability. Equally bound was his gift of drawing objects to him or throwing them at a distant target. Likewise, he was blocked from bending metal as he had bent the pistol in the first mate’s hands to escape being kidnapped and fr
om augmenting his physical strength as he had done when he leaped from the ship to the dock.
Dr. Tenney leaned out the side of the carriage and shouted, “Hurry, driver. It looks like rain.” A clap of thunder emphasized his words.
“Horse be going fast as it can, sir,” the driver shouted back.
Dr. Tenney scowled, and Trevor feared the Adept was about to endanger another horse. But the doctor merely sat and chewed savagely on the stem of his unlit pipe.
A second thunderclap made Carl swear and peer out at the darkening sky.
Trevor remembered the storm he’d helped Aunt Ellen call the night the townspeople tried to attack them. The talent had been mostly Aunt Ellen’s, but she’d said she wouldn’t have been able to bring it without his help. He remembered how he’d pictured rain, how he’d imaged a hard, driving, crop-crushing rain. And the rain had come and saved them.
He thought rain. Thought a sudden clothes-soaking, street-flooding shower.
Rain fell in a wild, drenching burst. He couldn’t tell whether he had brought it. The weather had already been threatening; the thunderclaps had heralded the nearness of the storm. It could be only coincidence that the rain had begun when it had. Certainly neither Carl nor Dr. Tenney acted as though the rain was unexpected or unusual—only annoying, since it meant that they must deliver the invitations in the rain.
He might have had nothing to do with the downpour, but Trevor had to think that he had, and that he could do it again; that when they attended the meeting Dr. Tenney had called, he could bring a lightning strike on Dr. Tenney, and on Carl and himself too, if need be. Death would be a small price to pay to defeat the evil Adept.
Les called out, but after that single “who-ooo,” neither the owl nor Leila paid him any attention. Yet he remained convinced that the owl was no ordinary bird.
“Les!”
A Perilous Power (Arucadi Series Book 5) Page 19