Shades
Book Four of The Trees Series
by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***
Dedication
To Sindee
***
Shades
What bring thee to thy faerie tale, when soil has tasted fleshly hale,
And only pallid aura lasts -
Do you dance to shadows of your pasts?
Have you traded all humanic lusts, for shifting motes and faerie dusts?
*
What of spittle, sweat, et flaws,
That come of gaping torso maws;
Aches and fevers, sores that fester,
Life's bequeathed to human jester?
*
And are you left no breath to speak?
Thy spirit hushed, thy presence meek?
Or does thy voice echo former days,
To make a chilt and shriekful haze?
*
Have thee put aside thy human tastes,
To be laid to rest with earthen wastes -
Or do you seek to sate thy flesh-starved plight,
When we see thy shadow ride the night?
*
by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***
Prologue
The Trees had stood for many years, their roots driving deep into the soils of this world, even as their odd structure became rooted in its fictional lore. Humans, although recognising the strangeness of the stark white trunks, could give no rational reason for the uneasy response these plants evoked.
Had they been aware of dimensional travel, these people might, perhaps, have been able to guess at the origins of these trees. Brought as seeds from another world, they reflected the effects of this one, changing under the influence of coarse, mineral-rich soils, and a yellow sun.
Burning the wood from these plants had an odd effect upon Earthly beings. The smoke allowed a portion of that other dimension to become incorporated into human bodies - mutating them so they no longer resembled creatures of the Earth. It had an additional effect, as well. It allowed these mutated humans to both see, and utilise, the portal between worlds: that swirling tunnel of light that connected their dimension with others.
Earthlings were not the only beings to venture through to other worlds. Some of the creatures they encountered in their travels quickly became friends, in a give-and-take that helped all to survive. Many of these beings bore striking resemblances to creatures out of Earthly folklore: fairies, flying horses, gargoyles, gnomes. Human travellers soon realised that theirs was just the latest in a long tradition of dimensional exploration.
But the danger of the unexpected lies in every venture through the trans-dimensional gate. For, not only do the inhabitants vary, but the natural laws of other realms often fail to coincide with those that are accepted in the human world. And transgressions to the natural law - in whatever dimension - can have dire consequences.
Risk creates heroes, and miraculous events can turn enemies into friends. Changelings, because they differ from the standard, are threatening. The four Earth people who have most recently undergone the startling mutation wrought by the Trees' smoke, have had to deal with the reactions of their own species, in addition to the consequences of their adventures. Peter, Katy, Trevor, and Mari have recently returned home, from a journey that was not of their choosing, and that had left all in need of rest and healing. Peter is even now being healed by Mari and her healing crystal. Katy, full of foreboding, but not knowing why, still rests after her own healing. Trevor, who loves Mari, offers her his support as she works her magic over Peter's wounded leg.
They are not alone in their efforts. Some of their trans-dimensional comrades, who've proven that friendship and loyalty are qualities not limited by natural boundaries, wait by their sides. Human friends, and former enemies who would be friends if given the chance, are happy merely to gaze upon the miraculous.
A few enemies yet lurk outside the picture. One of these is human. The other long ago abandoned any sense of humanity, along with his mortal remains, to moulder in the grave.
***
Chapter One
Jarrod Demascar had been patient for so long, watching his own substance moulder into dust. The body which had once brought him pride and pleasure was now a crumbling horror. He was locked into a nothingness of his own choosing; accepting the fact of his demise, but not its postrequisites. He had resisted leaving this plane of his birth, reluctant to surrender those fleshly indulgences - those avaricious and self-fulfilling entertainments - transitory pleasures which had no footing in immortality, but had substantiated his corporeal existence.
He endured. Lacking real substance, deprived of those things for which he had bound himself to this temporal realm so long before, he lingered, awaiting the opportunity for release - the chance to regain what he had lost. In his present state, he could only draw enough of himself together to have a temporary impact on the mortal creatures of this world. He was doomed, for the rest of his existence, to dissolution into his surroundings. A dissolution that was like a taste - a teasing hint of what he had once known, once experienced.
On one such foray away from his own rotting carcass, some fragment of his being had been caught along an ectoplasmic ribbon, of a type he'd never known before. This was ectoplasm that held the promise of release - that was unique, and not merely a remnant of a spiritualist's experience - that lived. Some awareness, perhaps his own, perhaps imbibed from elsewhere in the spiritual treadmill where he lingered - assured him that this ectoplasm could be used for his own purposes. But, only if he could find entry - if he could find a means of migrating at least a portion of his dissoluted being into this safe haven.
Thus, he lingered, waiting for his moment. Unseen, he watched the healer at work. Colour swept the room, leaching energy from the sun's intruding light, the warm scent of the near-breathless observers, the dancing molecules of a million microbes, the pumping action of excited hearts.
He allowed some of his essence to filter into those streams of colour - some ectoplasmic molecules to tangle and darken the rivers of light. The dark molecules mingled, well-camouflaged in the multi-coloured eruption; unnoticed as they were channelled into rejuvenating tissues, untrammelled as they found homology with Peter Trevick's subcellular constituents - those molecular cues that had recently begun to stimulate Peter's own ectoplasmic production.
Demascar traversed Peter Trevick's intercellular pathways, dipping into cells as he chose. He had only been able to jettison a small amount of his being into the crystal's streaming lights, but it would be enough to establish his presence. Once established, firmly ensconced in Peter's ectoplasmic structure, he would find a way to circumvent Peter's resistance mechanisms - a means of welcoming the remainder of his own incorporeal being. Then, he would devise a way to subvert the body's former owner: a means to take control.
*
The death dreams continued. Katherine was keening now - grief for Peter's loss racking her. In the black and white starkness of her imagined wanderings, Peter had evaded her, only to become distorted out of all recognition. She couldn't find him, and what terrified her most, was the fear that she might not recognise him if she did.
*
"We must awaken her!" Aristi said sternly, trying to hide the effect that Katy's terror-tossed dreams were having on him.
"And if she is caught up in it still? Like before?" Lily asked him doubtfully.
Symmerley nuzzled his human friend, disturbed by her torment. Cyrnol edged his big frame closer to her, hoping to ground her mental wanderings with the warm solidity of his bulk.
*
The colour should have soothed her. Waves of it had drifted in: searing, brilliant, held in space by the crystal that produced them. Something, though, was wrong. The colours were no longer pure - some warping had occurred. Some blackness had invaded, shading their brightness with a stygian shrouding.
Instantly, she was awake. Katherine came to her knees, trying to equate the bleakness of her fantasy with the bright, heated colour of the late day. She stared at Lily's aura, not seeing it - her eyes were turned inwards, still traversing the twisted pathways of her dream.
Lily spoke hesitantly, unsure whether Katherine was truly awake, or whether she was merely caught up once again in a sleepwalker's nightmare. "Katy?" the fairy said softly.
The human's eyes focused, bringing Lily's and Aristi's worried faces into view. Her intuition, the warning implicit in her dream, battled with her reason, and won. "It's Peter!" Katy whispered. "He's in danger!" She twisted, jumping to her feet, to tear through the tall grass toward the house.
She ran flat out, the grass crackling and bending under her feet, as she strove to shut out the dread that was mushrooming through her. I'll never be in time! The knowledge was a silent scream. She pushed it aside, not letting it deter her - using it to force her to still greater effort. Tearing into the house, she clambered through the hallway, tripping and falling in her haste, to finally splat, face-down, on the lounge rug.
Lifting her head, she caught a last flicker of the dying lights, a whispered reminder of the healing that had just taken place. Pushing herself up on to her knees, she crawled forward, oblivious to the others in the room, to position herself at Peter's side. Mari, leaning back into Trevor's arms, gave her a tired smile. "You're just in time, Katy," she said. "I think Peter will be fine."
Katy leaned over, to stare down at Peter's calm features. "Will he?" she asked in a whisper, her tone doubtful. Trevor looked at her strangely.
Paul was surprised to see Peter open his eyes almost immediately. He'd expected him to sleep on, as Katy and Trevor had done.
Katy watched, as Peter's eyes focused on her, and a smile, that was more of a leer, curved her lover's lips. She flinched backwards, as though she'd been struck. "It's not Peter!" she said.
*
Mortimer raced along under the white-barked trees, yelping and whining. Normally, he would have high-tailed it for the house, for the promise of comfort and a pat on the head, but his recent memories of home, though confused, were not reassuring. Besides, his people were all being boringly unresponsive, and he wasn't about to risk being tied to one of those flying creatures again, either.
He'd quickly forgotten why he was tearing through the woods, as he slowed his pace, and gave himself over to blissful sniffery. He unearthed some foul-smelling fungus, and even fouler smelling dung, that produced dim mental pictures of swiftly scurrying furry beasties. Morty nosed it around, then tossed the faeces above his head, before rolling over on to his back, to wriggle in it with his feet flailing through the air.
He was still enjoying his dung bath when the wongnits rediscovered him. Deron went to join him, seeing new possibilities in this simple pastime. Melpis, bored with it, and envisioning the unpleasantness of cleaning her coat later, set off through the woods, intent on locating the heavily-leafed trees, where she and Deron had been playing before they were swept through the dimensional gate.
As Melpis approached the trees, an eerie silence greeted her. The last time she'd played here, the rustle of living movements, the high-pitched notes of the birds, and the grating buzzing of insects had provided background noise. Unlike the area immediately surrounding the gate, this place should have been filled with an irritating assortment of sound and movement, rather than this intense motionless void. Melpis' unevenly tufted hair stood straight up on her back, and her lips parted in a snarl. She crept forward, torn between a delicious tingling of fear, and the stimulating realisation that trouble was at hand.
The woods no longer existed. A glistening network of interconnecting hyphae had taken their place. What had once been trees, were now empty structures, their energy leached away, their colour dulled to a lifeless grey-brown.
Melpis recognised the blue invader, a thing she actively avoided in her own world. Here, it had assumed massive proportions, and aggressive tendencies to match. Melpis, finally tasting fear, hissed in a cat-like gesture, and backed away.
In her haste to place distance between herself and the pulsating netting, her back feet dipped into what had formerly been a tangled mass of tree roots. Twisting, she jerked in terror, at seeing the blue sheen now decorating her fur. Her writhing desperation increased, as more sticky threads touched the puffed-out boundaries of her tufted hair - binding themselves to her - adhering firmly with their own gluey matrix.
Deron, romping in the miniature clouds of billowing dung dust that he and Morty had stirred up, suddenly froze. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed to a slit, while his hair immediately stood on end. It was the first time Melpis had ever radiated distress and fear, to the extent that he could feel it as his own. Ignoring the dog, who was circling him with yapping barks - certain that this was yet another game - Deron took to the trees, following the signal of Melpis' distress, as another might a light. Forewarned, he slowed his pace as he neared her, descending to the forest floor when he sighted the wriggling tufts of her furred body.
Melpis paused, suddenly aware of his presence, and turned pleading eyes toward him. Deron, helpless to aid her, felt the full impact of her terror, as she fought ferociously to free herself. Finally, Melpis sighed, and stretched out a paw for him to touch - reaching beyond the boundaries of her entrapment, so that he would avoid the entanglement that was now her fate.
At first, he thought she meant for him to tug her free - a hopeless endeavour - but then he saw the expression in her eyes, and recognised the motion as her farewell. Extending his own paw, he touched her, the glitter of tears lining his furry face. Reaching up, she touched, briefly, the track of glitter trailing from his eyes, then smiled at him, pleased that in this moment, he should care so deeply.
She wanted him to stay - to be near as she drifted into the forever sleep that would come to claim her. Violently, he rejected the idea. Had not the fairy, and the healing crystal, been able to reclaim Trevor from the blue cave dwellers? That is what the fairy had boasted. "Fight!" Deron urged her. He would bring the fairies to her side. "I will not give you up -" were the last words she heard as he raced away, back toward the human dwelling.
*
Horace and Kelwin were standing back, near the window. Vicki, who'd plopped down on one arm of the wing-back chair, was looking slightly worried. Edwin was agitatedly shifting from foot to foot. Alex appeared stunned - his first experience of a healing had nearly overwhelmed him.
Jordan was overwhelmed. He'd known Peter and Katy for years, and had often exchanged quips with Trevor when he'd visited Peter at work. For him, the change in their anatomies, and, apparently, their abilities, was shocking. Paul, glancing his way now, noted his extreme pallor. "Could one of you shove the smelling salts under his nose? I think this has all been a little too much for him."
They'd all stood in open-mouthed, gaping awe during Peter's healing. Even Vicki and Edwin, who'd been healed themselves, couldn't help but be impressed by the near-instantaneous knitting of bone and tissue, all at the instigation of a rock and a light show. Vicki was troubled now by the fear that was being emanated in the room. Edwin's awe had switched to agitation, his intuition filling him with foreboding. He didn't like the feeling. In the short time since he'd developed this precognitive sense, he'd had an unfortunate predilection for being proven right. And right now, in the face of these extraordinary people he'd met, he'd rather be wrong.
Paul didn't know what to do about Katy. He exchanged a worried look with Mari, who'd also been studying her, with a kind of frightened wariness. In Paul's view, Katy had confused her dream with reality, and was now unable to separate the two. Unless, in her case, Mari's healing had resulted in some kind of mental aberration. Paul knew that was what Mari was worried about, and he just wished he could alleviate her mind.
Trevor, his arms firmly supporting Mari, watched the anguished expression on Katy's face. He couldn't understand what was going on, but the horror in Katy's glance, as she looked at Peter, scared him. Right now, after all they'd been through, he just wanted things to be back the way they'd been before. "Katy?" She turned to look at him. "Peter needs you right now."
Nodding, with an obvious effort to control her agitation, she crept closer to where Peter lay, half afraid to make eye contact once again. "Peter?" she whispered.
At the sound of her voice, his face lit up, eyes warming with the tender luminescent fluctuations she had come to love. "Katy-my-love," he said. He struggled to sit up, and Paul helped him. Katy studied him intently, then flung herself into his arms. For a moment, his love invaded her being, and all was as it had been before. Then, with an emotional jerk that she sensed deep inside, he tightened his arms around her, and whispered in her ear, "You can tell them if you want, Katherine, but they won't believe you. They would rather think you mad. So, if I were you, I'd bite my tongue." He emphasised the last with a bite - a painful warning gouge into the soft skin at the side of her neck - under her hair, where it wouldn't be seen.
Katy stiffened, wanting to scream, to lash out at him. But she was afraid. Sending out emotional feelers, she sensed that he was right. Already, some within the room were watching her with doubtful looks. She knew most people could accept the reality of a stress-related breakdown far sooner than they would ever accept - she dreaded admitting it to herself - the possibility of multiple personalities, or - God help me! she thought, remembering her dream - some form of possession.
As tears of pain filled Katy's eyes, spilling down her cheeks, Mari breathed a sigh of relief. Her intuition told her that Katy was feeling remorse, and she assumed it was for those first words, which must, to Peter, have been terribly painful. Trevor, having known these two for so long, sensed that something was still wrong, but couldn't understand what it was.
Katy's eyes met Thyme's as she shivered in her enforced hug. The fairy's aura wavered through the tears blocking her vision, but his look was serious, and not a little frightened. He, alone, knew with certainty that Katy's remorse stemmed not from her outburst, but from the pain that was being inflicted on her person. He also realised that the pain was more than physical - and that the Peter who had awakened was not the same Peter who had saved Mari's life. Katy's agony in her knowledge, and her inability to express it, tore at him. For, the creature who now shared Peter's form was ignorant about the refinements of a fairy's hearing - and Thyme, worried about Katy's first reaction to Peter's awakening - had made an effort to overhear those whispered nothings in Katy's ear.
*
Gyris was no tracker. His heavy tread was likely to forewarn the crabwalkers of pursuit, thus forcing them to even hastier flight. Qualice pondered the problem, while Gyris, ever patient, looked on, and wondered what the gnome was up to now.
Qualice, despite their failures over the last few days, had developed a new sense of confidence in his powers of invention. Chittering wildly to the gargoyle, the gnome scurried to collect the bright, neon pink leaves of the gritchla tree. He made two wads of pouffy leaves, which he insisted on securing to the soles of Gyris' feet, with long, pliable, grassy wands. The gargoyle baulked, resisting Qualice's efforts. Won't the yassels see us coming? My feet will be noted long before the rest of my person, he insisted.
No, the gnome chittered back in the gargoyle tongue, you will blend nicely into your surroundings, and - more importantly - the yassels will not hear you coming.
Finally, worn down both by Qualice's insistence, and the excited look in his eyes at his latest invention, Gyris gave in.
The two of them continued on: the gnome's rapid pace lost in his hustle to keep up with the gargoyle's longer, but now shuffling, stride.
*
During the minutes Lily had watched over Katy's healing sleep, she'd been tensely attuned to Thyme's being. Had he encountered anything untoward, she felt certain her fairy senses would have apprised her in time to fly to his assistance. When Katy had rushed away, words of foreboding on her lips, Lily had been prepared to follow - willing to put aside her own dread of what might yet be waiting up at the house.
She was disappointed that food had not proved the restorative it usually was for her, and she realised Aristi was correct in saying she was in need of Mari's healing. Now, as she prepared, with a sigh, to follow her human friend, Aristi stopped her, saying, "There are others at the house to do your share, Lily. It is time for you to rest, before the cold you are feeling encompasses you further." Anticipating an argument, he added, "You are not alone in your weakness, Lily. Look at Symmerley and Zylon. Weariness causes their wings to droop, and a need for sustenance enfeebles their flight. They should return to our world, before any further catastrophes descend upon them."
Lily flew over to Symmerley first, then Zylon. "I am sorry, my Friends. You should go now, to nourish yourselves -"
Symmerley baulked, certain that he would be needed.
Aristi added a further argument, saying to Lily in fairy, "They have been seen by the humans, Lily, and their presence is difficult to hide. It would be better if they go."
"But my friends are in the hands of those humans as well, who view them as oddities. Their safety is also at risk," she replied. The esquiors snorted their agreement.
Aristi pulled Lily aside. "You must insist that they go, Lily. If necessary, ask them not to stray far from the gate, so that you can summon them, should they be needed. And," he placed his hands on her shoulders, "you should go with them."
She looked startled. "Leave Thyme? And my other friends -"
He crossed his arms sternly. "Well, if you will not leave, then you must rest. On Cyrnol's back." Aristi turned, to wink at the esquiors. Only by insisting on the unthinkable, could he get her to accept the reasonable.
Lily nodded, then heard a snort of laughter from Zylon. Indignant, she faced Aristi, finding a smile lighting his eyes as well. Frowning, she darted huffily over to Cyrnol, to curl up in the folds of his skin. Before she closed her eyes, Aristi heard her say, "I think, Fairy, that you are very sly. It is not surprising to me that Thyme is your son." She drifted into sleep on the soft chiming of Aristi's laughter.
*
As Deron raced back the way he'd come, he was smitten with the uncomfortable realisation that he was developing a most unwelcome conscience. Whereas before he might have rushed to Melpis' rescue, abandoning the weak-minded canine to its fate, now he was compelled to retrace his steps - to find out if the creature had succumbed to the same trap as his wongnit companion.
Smelling out the path Mortimer had taken, he was momentarily distracted by the pungently-aroma'd, deteriorating remains of an unlucky rabbit. Spying it, he was seized with a sense of compassion that sat uncomfortably close to his new conscience, as he thought of his Melpis trapped, and anticipating a similar fate. His thoughts turned inward for a moment, as he opened his senses to her presence - needing the reassurance that she still lived. Releasing a breath, he spurred himself onward, following the dog's shortcut through the tall grass, and up to the humans' abode.
*
Peter released her, and leaned back to watch her expression. Pride made Katy refuse to let this Thing, who'd somehow appeared in Peter's stead, glimpse its marks upon her person. She tilted her head forward, so her still-muddy locks would cover the impressions of his teeth.
Show it to them! her anger urged. Then they'll know -
Only they wouldn't. She could already guess how it would go. Relief would want to follow the path of least resistance. "I'm having a little problem with my muscles still, Mari. Spasms. Look what I accidentally did to Katy - can you help her?" It would be so much easier to believe than "Peter woke up as someone I don't recognise! Something came in on the healing stream, Mari! This isn't Peter!"
How could she expect them to believe something she didn't want to believe herself?
Something, perhaps in the way she held herself, her posture stiff and unyielding - or perhaps it was her closed expression - gave Trevor the impression that she had retreated far beyond Peter's reach, despite the few centimetres that separated them.
Trevor looked at Thyme then. The fairy was acting strangely, too, placing himself on Katy's shoulder, his eyes glued to Peter's face. At first, Trevor suspected that Thyme was merely happy to be reunited with them both, but his expression was fierce, and his actions toward Katy almost protective. Trevor, much against his will, decided something was awry - more than awry - definitely wrong. The last thing he wanted was for some ugliness to ruin their reunion, especially because Mari wasn't ready for any further demands upon her person. A little reluctantly, Trevor sought his friend's eyes.
Before he could speak, Paul's voice lifted cheerfully. "Well, Peter, how's the leg?"
Peter flexed it, giving Mari a big smile. "Great! Thanks, Mari!"
She gave a weak grin. "My pleasure."
Trevor, alarmed at how depleted she sounded, decided to deal with Peter's and Katy's problem later. "Mari, I think it's time you gave yourself a little thought," he said.
"Wait! Peter, are you sure I did it right? You really feel restored - you don't notice any side-effects?" Satisfied with his affirmative nod, she twisted - somewhat painfully now, she was finding - to see Trevor's face. "And you, Trev - you're okay?"
"Give me some time alone with you, and I'll show you," he reassured her. He wondered if he was the only one who'd noticed that she didn't ask Katy.
*
He wasn't. Jarrod Demascar was having trouble controlling his ebullience at his restoration. Although a portion of his being was still trapped in the ether, offering him two perspectives at once, that which had invaded Peter Trevick was rejoicing at the surging force of living tissue, the pumping of a living heart, the electrical impulses of nervous energy. His excitement in his deliverance superseded Trevick's own relief at his healing, creating an adrenaline rush that the real Peter couldn't understand, and was having difficulty controlling.
It won't be the last time you're caught unaware, Peter Trevick.
Demascar noticed the expression on the fairy's face, the question in Trevor's eyes. Too much interest had been stirred by testing his control in these early moments - by manipulating those portions of Peter's brain that activated his responses. Now was not the time - especially since the woman now wore the evidence of a transgression, and might choose to use it if he continued. He felt confident that his wit could explain it away, but it would serve his purposes better if he had no need for explanations.
For the moment, caution was needed - until he made himself whole once again. Demascar receded, ensconcing himself in the less conscious portions of Peter's anatomy; forfeiting control to the one who could fool them better than anyone: the fool who had formerly dominated this mortal form.
*
Katherine sensed a change, as though a barricade had been erected, suppressing the darkness that had filtered into Peter's body. Unsure, a lingering aversion still colouring her actions, Katy hesitated. The blackness that had controlled his actions was with him still. Would he be able to keep it suppressed? Or would there be more violence?
Katy thought of the women she knew - some who'd been beaten violently yet returned to the man who'd violated them. I always swore that would never happen to me.
But now, she could understand how they felt. I want to help him - to let him know I believe in him - to remind him what he's fighting for.
Maybe this was some kind of temporary aberration - maybe he was half asleep, and didn't know what he was doing. Weighing her fears against what she stood to lose, she found that she preferred to trust, rather than to doubt, him. To hope that Peter would find a way to overcome this. And, if he needed it, to use whatever support she could offer him to find his way back to the Peter she knew.
*
Peter came to his feet with Katy's and Paul's help. Experimentally, he placed weight on his newly-healed leg. "Well?" Paul asked.
Peter looked almost apologetically at Katy, before saying quietly to Paul, "I'm afraid there's still a bit of soreness deep inside -"
"Generalised, or can you pinpoint it?"
Peter pointed to the place where Paul knew the largest break had been. Paul sighed. Peter touched his arm, warning him with a glance to keep the news from Mari. Paul nodded. "I think it's just a bit stiff -" he started to say.
Katy interrupted him by wrapping her arms around him from behind, to take some of his weight with an affectionate gesture. The sparkle was back in her eyes now, for no one but Peter would think of apologising for having healed inadequately, or try so hard to keep it from the one who'd done the healing. She denied the part of her that wanted to baulk - to hold back against the streak of blackness which she still sensed within him, or to reserve judgement until he'd once again proven himself to her.
"Katherine," Thyme whispered in her ear, when she'd released Peter to let him sit in a chair, "is it wise to trust that which your senses deny?"
Katy looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Probably not wise, Fairy," she replied gently, "but if my love can help shift the balance - to support him through his inner battle - then, I can't hold back - or I'd be failing him."
Thyme nodded, approving her commitment, but unconvinced of its wisdom. "But, Katherine Ryder, if it should appear that he is losing his battle, be prepared to move quickly - out of his reach." Katy nodded, then turned back to hold Peter closely once again, in the safety of her arms.
***
Chapter Two
David Nickelson came awake in a spattering of gravel. For nearly a full minute he lay there, trying to figure out why he was on the ground. His head ached, and when he turned over, he stared at the white wooden boards of Peter's house without recognition. Suddenly, seeing the remains of the video camera scattered in the dirt, it all came back to him, and with it - anger.
Damn Alex Westerley - that fuckin' Mr. Righteous! He rubbed the side of his head, where Westerley had hit him. Well, he thought, one for the do-gooders. But, next time, it'll be my turn.
He didn't have any idea how long he'd been out. He climbed to his feet, dizzy and nauseous, wondering whether Westerley had given him a concussion in his righteous zeal.
He was still leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths to try to keep his lunch in place, when he heard the sound of excited voices. He forced himself to motion, stumbling around the back of the house, just as Westerley and one of the men Nickelson had been following - Edwin Murphy - hauled a door around the corner.
Nickelson seemed to lose track of things after that. He sat behind the house, nursing his sore head and his grievances, until the sound of someone running once more brought him to his feet. Nickelson peered around the corner, and saw one of the green females tearing toward the house. He searched behind her, but couldn't see anyone in pursuit. The way she was acting, the look on her face - you'd think something was hot on her heels.
He heard the thunk as she fell on to the lounge floor, and wondered if she'd run into the wall. Moving slowly, he made his way around the side, so that he could get a look in the window.
It looked like a convention. He still didn't know which female was the healer, and he glanced from one to the other. He knew which one looked healthier.
His eyes kept returning to the green guy at the centre. David blinked his eyes several times, wondering if he was having some visual problems resulting from his knock on the head. The fact that he was green was weird enough, but he was also the only one in the room with a shadow - a dark shadow that followed the contours of his body as he moved, like a thick outline in a child's colouring book.
*
"Mari?" Mari heard him, but couldn't seem to open her eyes. She knew someone was lifting her, and the rightness of it - the feel of it - told her it was Trevor.
"Is she out again, Trevor?" That was Paul's voice.
"Not completely." Trevor sounded worried.
Don't worry, Trevor, she wanted to say, but couldn't get the words to form.
"How are we going to get her to heal herself?" Trev asked Paul.
"We're not - not until I get a better look at her shoulder. I don't want it to heal wrong." Mari couldn't see Paul's expression, but she heard Trevor's quick intake of breath. Paul had indicated Peter, sitting in the chair, trying to knead away the ache in his leg.
Trevor was dismayed. "How bad?" he mouthed.
Paul shrugged, shaking his head. He formed the word "X-ray" with his mouth. Trevor nodded. Paul studied Trevor again. He looked healthy enough. "I'd say Mari did a good job on you," he said, as he worked on Mari's shoulder. "How do you feel?" he asked casually.
"Great," Trevor admitted.
"What about Katy?" Paul asked softly.
"What about her?" Trevor returned - almost defensively, Paul thought.
"Does she seem all right to you?"
Trevor glanced at her. "I'd say so -" he began. Knowing Paul's interest was sincere, he added quietly, "- now."
Paul nodded. "That's what I thought," he agreed.
*
Deron, in his haste, almost overran the dog. Mortimer tried to check his furred playmate's sprint through the rustling grass, with a toothsome tug of the wongnit's tail. Deron, caught up in his fear over the elapsed time, turned on the dog, eyes an angry red. Mortimer, uncertain now, released the other's tail, then yapped at him, blocking his path.
Deron stopped short of flaying the annoying creature; deciding instead to make use of the dog's long matted coat of hair that was still thick with mud and dung. He yanked three large tufts from the shaggy back before the dog knew what he was about, then settled the matter by using his teeth to extract several of Morty's sensitive whiskers. Mortimer gave a dog scream of fright, then tore off toward the house, tail between his legs, and throat at full whine. Deron was at his heels the entire way.
Once there, Morty dove under the house, and hid amid the pilings, cowering behind a large chunk of concrete foundation. Deron, ignoring the odd human who was looking in at the window, bounded through the front door, leaped to the door frame, and executed a rolling dive into the crowded lounge. His agitation was immediately apparent, and Thyme darted to his side. "What's wrong, Bozo?" he asked. The wongnit chattered wildly, hair puffed, pacing madly.
Thyme, hearing the news, swore loudly in fairy. At least, that's what Trevor assumed, listening to him.
"What is it, Thyme?" Peter asked urgently.
"Remember the blue ceiling dwellers, Trevor? The ones who decorated your torso as they tried to eat you alive?" Trevor nodded. "They are here - in the forest -"
"What!" Peter said, jumping to his feet, cringing slightly as his leg gave way. Balancing on the other, he asked, "Are you sure?"
"Duh!" Thyme said impatiently, zapping him gently. "I saw them before, when Lily and I came for the healing crystal, but in the excitement, I -" his expression grew slightly sheepish, "- forgot!"
"You forgot!" Peter nearly shouted. "How could you forget something like that?"
"Now, who's the 'duh'?" commented Trevor.
"There was a lot on my mind -" he began.
"And nothing in it," added Trevor.
Thyme hovered in front of Peter. "It has destroyed the forest, and now is taking victims. It has Melpis," he said, glancing at Deron.
Katy's eyes widened in horror. "Melpis! Can we save her?"
"Only if we get there in time, Katherine. But we will need the crystal." He turned to Paul Gatley. "I must take it, Paul."
Paul shook his head. Not at the risk of Mari's mobility. How could this fairy equate an animal's welfare with Mari's? "Not until we've finished with Mari," he said firmly.
Deron snarled in rage.
"We're talking loss of life here, Paul!" Katy told him angrily.
"Of an animal, Katy."
"Not just an animal," Trevor said, snatching the crystal from Paul's hand. He tossed it to Peter, who handed it off to the fairy.
"Trevor's right, Paul. Melpis isn't merely an animal - she's a friend," Peter said.
Katy raced with Deron and Thyme toward the door. Peter limped over, prepared to join them. He felt Trevor's hand on his arm. "No, Pete." He pushed Peter back into the chair. "Take care of that leg. Just keep an eye on Mari for me, okay?" he pleaded.
Peter nodded, his frustration at his limitations obvious. Keeping his tone light, however, he told Trevor, with mock seriousness, "And, if anything happens to Katy, tatooing'll be the least of your worries, Trev." Trev flashed him a smile, then leaped through the broken hallway to join the others.
*
"Peter -" A voice spoke his name hesitantly, and Peter looked up. He'd been sitting with his face buried in his hands, fighting to tune out both the pain in his leg, and the frustration of being incapacitated.
"Jordy!" Peter's surprise and pleasure at the sight of his friend was obvious. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see the impossible. How's the leg?"
"Fine."
Jordan looked disbelieving, but let it drop. "Why didn't you tell me, Peter?" He sounded slightly hurt.
Peter, on the other hand, sounded amused. "Tell you what, Jordy? That my accident changed me into a mutant? 'Sorry, Jordan, but I can't come in to work today. I'm feeling a little green around the gills'."
"You didn't trust me."
Peter shook his head, denying the charge. "Remember when I told you that getting involved could cause you trouble? Well," he said, "trouble may have arrived." He stared at Kelwin and Vicki, remembering their faces in some rather unpleasant circumstances. "You're Mader's people, aren't you?" he asked flatly.
"No longer," Vicki said with a smile. "We came to find Mari -"
Peter stood up, to place himself between them and Mari, his expression suspicious. "Why Mari?"
"To protect her. There are others who want her - for her healing. I - we - just felt responsible," she finished lamely.
Alex and Jordan looked at each other in horror. "David Nickelson!" Alex exclaimed. He and Jordan raced out of the house.
"Don't mind me," Peter muttered wearily, limping over to where Paul was still working on Mari's shoulder. "This is just my house, my life. No big deal."
Paul was still annoyed that they'd put Mari's health at risk: countermanding his decision, in order to use the crystal on some animal. His comment now was harsh, but he kept his tone light. "Do I hear a trace of self-pity, Peter Trevick? I didn't think that was your style." He expected to hear a quip in response, but Peter's next words were serious.
"It's not," he admitted, his expression curious. His look was that of the scientist stumbling on something that didn't fit his expectations. "The funny thing is, I don't feel very much like myself today."
Paul glanced at him, noting his expression, before turning back to Mari. What the hell is going on? he thought. Forcing a smile, he urged Peter, more kindly this time, "Why don't you go sit down, Peter? Until we can get an X-ray, you should probably stay off that leg."
Peter nodded, depressed. He'd never felt this way before. Almost oppressed, as though he were weighted down. Even at his worst, before his transformation, he'd never been subject to bouts of depression. Certainly, afterwards, he'd been filled with so much high-spirited energy that he couldn't have been depressed if he'd tried. Happy, angry, sad even, but never truly depressed - never this deep despondency. Now, his energy levels, for some reason, had suffered in the healing of his leg - the lack of that physical drive made him realise just how much he'd come to value it.
*
"Should we get Lily? And Aristi?" Katy asked.
Thyme considered it, then nodded. "Lily has greater control over the crystal than I." He snatched a strand of first Trevor's, and then, Katy's, long hair, using the backpressure of his wings, to force them to a stop.
"What?!" Trevor was letting his irritability show. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving Mari, but knew that Melpis' life was at stake. He was anxious to extricate the wongnit, see to her well-being, and return to Mari's side - hopefully, before she realised he'd left.
"While I am fetching Lily, tread wisely. In other words, Trevor Richmond, don't go blundering in there, only to entangle yourself."
"I never 'blunder'! And, if I did, you wouldn't recognise it anyway, you're so busy making your own mistakes -"
"Fairies don't make mistakes -"
"Then, are you certain you're a fairy?"
"Cretin!"
"Toad!"
"Shut up!" The air between the two frizzled with a sudden sparkling of colour, and they both jumped. Katy didn't notice. Having lost her temper at their petty arguing, she'd already turned her back and was hastily following Deron once more.
"Thyme?" Trevor whispered. "What was that?" He was watching Katy's retreating back.
"I do not know, Trevor, but I suspect it was a product of Mari's healing. Do not worry," he said, patting the human's shoulder, "Lily and I will return as soon as possible." He started to fly away, then turned, to tell Trevor, "In the meanwhile, try not to let Katherine lose her temper."
"No problem!" Trevor called back. "Tact and diplomacy are my middle names!" Trevor raced to follow the others' trail.
Thyme groaned, thinking about it, then darted away to find Lily and his father.
*
Qualice and Gyris realised they were closing on the yassels. Gyris was glad; he had an uneasy feeling that this might be a useless quest, for the yassels were unlikely to listen to their excuses, and they might well end up more battered than they'd been during the cave-dwellers' flight. His attitude, he knew, differed greatly from the gnome's. The gargoyle was fairly confident that if he and Qualice returned to their own people, then the yassels would soon discover their flight to be unnecessary, and go back to their caverns. If not, they must surely have another destination in mind. It occurred to him then that his and Qualice's presence might well chase the yassels away from any place they'd intended to settle. He tried to explain this to the gnome, and Qualice listened politely - nodding in agreement.
Gyris, thinking that the gnome concurred with his assessment, and was willing to let nature take its course, prepared to return to his own people. It took a while before it penetrated that Qualice was agreeing with him, even encouraging him to go home, but that he had no intention of doing the same. The gnome's sense of honour wouldn't allow him to leave the situation alone, but he didn't feel he should embroil Gyris any more in his plans. After all, Gyris had been a victim of the situation as much as the yassels had.
Qualice waved the gargoyle goodbye, then turned in the direction of his village, in case Gyris was watching. After a few paces, he veered off, recovering the yassels' path. He scurried along, nervous now that he was alone, but determined to do the right thing.
Gyris sighed, then shuffled along quietly - courtesy of Qualice's makeshift shoes - in pursuit.
*
Horace and Edwin followed Alex and Jordan out of the house. Alex, uncertain as to why Mader's former employees wanted to help find Nickelson, didn't object when they joined in the search. He hoped they weren't searching out of concern for their former co-worker. Where would that leave me? he thought. I'm the one who bashed him.
Alex hadn't really believed Vicki's claim about protecting the healer. He suspected their motives were far less altruistic than that. After all, they were getting paid to find Mari. It was more likely that they wanted to eliminate any competition. Or, possibly, to enlist Nickelson's help. Nickelson was a specialist at finding out things people didn't want him to know.
They may have worked with Nickelson on Mader's staff, but that doesn't mean they'll work together now, he told himself. But if they do decide to pool their efforts? Alex looked down at the dirt impression of Nickelson's body, and thought about just how hard he'd clobbered him with that boot. He didn't look forward to Nickelson, or any of his friends, returning the favour.
Nickelson's car was there, which meant the man was still lurking somewhere nearby. When Alex pulled the wires out of both the distributor, and the coil - figuring that it would take the man a while to sort out the dual problem - the other men made no objection.
Reassured by their silence, he turned to Horace and Edwin, and demanded bluntly, "All right! What's your angle?" He was rather proud of his coolness.
Horace gave him look for look, but a smile lingered at the back of his eyes. He nudged Edwin, who turned to stare at a shrub, trying to hide his own amusement. "Angle! What business is it of yours?" he asked harshly, in his best gangster fashion. "Let me just say," he continued, patting his pocket as though something more threatening than his handkerchief and wallet resided there, "that we have business with the healer."
"Selling miracles, no doubt."
"Maybe. And you?"
Alex was uncomfortable with the thought that these people had worked for one of the most brutal people in the "twisted science for a price" business - some, for many years. This made them potentially hazardous to his health, and basically untrustworthy. In Alex's mind, anyone who could condone Mader's activities could condone just about any exploitative bullshit that came down the pipes.
What he didn't know, was that Mader had been a law unto himself, who kept the full scope of his activities to himself. Most of his Security staff, although familiar with Mader's methods, forced themselves to be content with the polite lie, and the half-told story. The science staff, on the other hand, would have been more cognisant of Mader's intentions, but a lot could be hidden by a wealth of incoherent detail. Details that could only be construed into the whole if you knew most of the facts.
Alex assumed any admission about coming here to defend the healer would, more than likely, get him into major difficulties - of the physical kind - that would require a hospital, or the healer's own gifts, to sort out. He sweated a little now as he told these two toughs, "You and I are employed by the same group of people. I'm here to observe, and advise, if necessary." And you can stick that wherever you want to, he gloated, pleased, and not a little surprised, at his own glib response.
"Then why didn't you know 'my angle'?" Horace responded suspiciously.
The man's eyes grew wide. For Edwin, the play of emotions was so glaringly apparent, that it was like watching a soap opera - or, he thought, as he turned away to hide his own hilarity at the scene - like a sitcom. He heard, rather than saw, Alex say stumblingly, "I was testing you -"
Horace didn't know exactly who Alex was, but Edwin's reassurances - as to the man's ethical nature - did a great deal to support his own, less intuitive assessment. For the moment, in spite of Westerley's claims, Horace felt fairly certain that the man was against turning Mari Sullivan over to the powers-that-be. Letting Alex off the hook, he gave him a solemn nod, indicating he'd accepted his words. Horace's lips twitched when he heard Alex's unconscious sigh of relief. Then, Horace turned to focus his attention on the fourth searcher, wondering how well he knew Peter Trevick.
Jordan had been quiet, feeling in over his depth with these people. They all seemed to have such tough veneers, as though they sported emotional calluses. He was worried about what had happened to Peter, remembering that - whatever it was - it had obviously affected Katy and Trevor as well. The thought of contagion crossed his mind, but he discounted it as unworthy. He thought about the other woman - the one they called Mari. She was capable of some amazing feats, and he wasn't slow to realise that these guys thought they'd picked up on a marketable commodity.
He didn't know what to make of the other creatures he'd seen. He refused to dwell on their presence, concentrating instead on finding a way to help Peter. The changes, the mutation - Jordy hated the ugliness of the word - he'd undergone wasn't likely to be reversible. Peter, Katy, Trevor, and the healer, Mari, were doomed to lives as freaks, and Jordy found pity surmounting his other emotions. Next came anger, at the presumptuousness of these people, who wanted to manipulate at least one of the four for whatever they could get.
Jordy was probably more conversant with the idea of genetic manipulation than any of the others. After all, it was done with plants all the time - creating new varieties, developing resistant strains, increasing freeze tolerance. He often worked with mutagenic chemicals in the lab - using safety precautions, of course - and, after all, what were cancers, but mutated cells gone wild? Peter's mutation was extensive, but if the telephone conversations they'd had were anything to go by, his memory was still intact. What he and the others needed most right now, Jordy thought, was a chance to re-establish their lives. That, and appropriate medical care. He assumed that the appearance of the physician, Gatley, indicated that at least some of the medical aspects had already been dealt with.
Jordy tried to picture Peter back at work in the lab, and failed. His friend looked like a giant elf. Freakish, yes, but there was something about the near-metallic shimmer of his skin, his pointy ears, the tilt of his eyes, their pulsating glow - Peter with glowing eyes? Impossible! - that would cause people to look, and look again. Jordan's lips curved in an unwilling smile as he thought about pheromones, used by insects to attract the opposite sex, and used in traps to draw in unsuspecting moths. Something about Peter's new form was like that: particularly attractive to human eyes, like the sheen of gold, or the flash of diamonds. It wouldn't make the return to the quiet life easy for his friend, Jordy realised. He doubted that people would leave him alone.
Horace wanted to question Jordan about his relationship with Peter Trevick, but decided that blunt tactics would serve him better. Instead, he asked, "Who are you?"
Jordan's hand shook as he pulled a card from his pocket. "Jordan Callaghan. I'm here to investigate the forest blight."
Horace looked out at the trees. "Yep. They sure are blighted, aren't they?"
"Not just blighted, but a threat to life. I need to make a call."
"Who?"
"Local authorities. A lot of people will be killed if we don't get this under control."
Horace nodded. He put Jordan's card in his pocket, saying, "I'll just keep this, if you don't mind."
"Of course. Now, for that call?"
"Why don't you go with him, Edwin, to make certain he gets to make it, while this man -" Horace looked at him inquiringly.
"Alex Westerley."
"- while Westerley and I hunt down David Nickelson." Horace thought of something. He asked Westerley, "Do you know whether Nickelson's armed?"
Alex and Jordy looked at each other, then smiled. "He was -" Westerley began.
"- but not any longer," Jordan finished.
Horace, for the first time, smiled back at them. He realised that disarming someone like Nickelson must have been a new experience for them both. "You guys are right on top of it, aren't you?" he commented. He slapped Jordy on the back, and was about to walk away, when Edwin stopped him.
"Horace?"
"Yeah?"
"My chances of locating Nickelson are probably better than yours."
"Right," Horace admitted. He gave Edwin a good-natured shove. "So, what are you waiting for? Go locate him." Edwin grinned, then moved off with Alex to trace Nickelson's trail. Behind him, he heard Horace say, "I'll send Kelwin out to keep you company."
"Maybe we should have had him bring his espresso machine - to lure the guy out - sort of like pheromones to a moth." As Ed and Alex walked away, Jordy stared after them with an odd expression on his face.
*
Even though Katy and Trevor were racing along after Deron, it was apparent he was nearly frantic at their slowness. The two humans involuntarily lessened their speed as they came under the cloaked trees, the utter stillness of the place adding to their discomfort. "Poor Melpis!" Katy said softly, thinking what it would be like to be trapped within this eerie desolation.
Trevor was jumpy, caught up in his own sleep-disoriented memories of what it had been like to awaken covered with the blue invaders, knowing that they were gorging themselves at his expense. "Damn parasites!" he muttered now, overreacting to a bit of drifting hyphae that tumbled his way.
Deron froze as he spied Melpis' form, near mummified by an encroachment of the hyphae. A whimper escaped him as he realised that her life-force was at a low ebb. She might not survive the return of the fairies. He crept forward, crawling underneath a festoon of glistening hyphae, to take the paw that was still extended - that, mercifully, was still uncovered by the encroaching invader. "She reaches out to me, even in sleep," he said in wongnit, and the desperate look he turned on Katy and Trevor was fraught with crystalline tears.
"She won't make it, if we don't get her out of there," Trevor said.
"It'll mean we'll get some on us, as well. Are you willing?" Katy asked.
"'Been there, done that'. But - yes." he sighed. "If I let you do it, though, my life won't be worth a damn - Peter, you know."
"Yes, I know." Katy smiled ruefully. "But you didn't see me - or couldn't stop me - or something."
He nodded. "Okay." He grimaced, then ducked under the low-hanging loops of hyphae.
Katy followed him. "I just hope Peter likes his women with tattoos."
"Look," Trevor mumbled, his lips nearly closed against the chance of getting blue stuff in his mouth, "you brush me down, and I'll brush you."
She heard the levity in his voice and chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced.
Reaching Deron, Trevor tried using a stick to tug the hyphae off Melpis, but finally gave up, as he realised that the stick was full of the stuff, anyway. Deron looked at them disbelievingly, as the two humans used their bare hands to yank and tug the hyphae out of Melpis' fur. His own restraint was the result of years of cultural indoctrination about avoiding any contact with the blue creature, and he wondered if the humans were risking their lives out of ignorance. No, they realise the danger, but they know that Melpis is at yet greater risk. Overcoming his own reluctance, he went rapidly to work, ferreting out the small branchlets that had grown into Melpis' skin, and were trying to suck her dry.
Trevor knew the first hint of trouble was upon them, when he heard Katy yawn. "Uh-oh," he said, as an answering yawn welled up within him, and the urge to sleep started to intrude on his consciousness. He elbowed Katy hard, noting how she was beginning to work like an automaton, her mind drifting elsewhere. "Out of here, Katy!" It took her a moment to understand. "Let's tug Melpis out! She's nearly free!"
The three worked together to pull the downed wongnit into the clear. As they moved, they extricated her legs from the dense netting, leaving her with a decorative, but fortunately sparse, webbing across her torso. Toward the end, it was only Trevor's panic that kept the rescuers from becoming victims. Katy still responded to his urgings, but Deron, suffering from a rapid growth of the hyphae on his underbelly, needed a few good shoves in order to get clear of the immediate danger.
They made it to just beyond the trees. Then, Deron, checking for Melpis' heartbeat, fell asleep on the other wongnit's chest. Katy curled up on her side, arm tucked under her head. Trevor looked at the other three, a desperate look on his face. "Thyme!" he yelled. Then, the sleep impinging on his vision like dark clouds, he muttered, "Oh, hell!" and flopped down, spread-eagled on the hard ground.
*
Thyme saw his father's aura first, a calm bright beacon under the shadowy recesses of the trees. Aristi, sensing his agitation, had come halfway to meet him, in hopes of letting Lily sleep on. "Where is Lily?" Thyme asked, the tones brusque, even in the fluted fairy tongue. He was surprised that she hadn't responded to his need, a thing which slightly dented his ego. It bothered him that, as far as Lily was concerned, his egoism was a fragile thing, capable of being shredded by an unkind thought.
"I made her rest," his father said, "and it is an indication of her need that she did not awaken in response to your distress."
"She is unwell?" Thyme asked worriedly.
"The cold within her eats at her aura." Aristi shook his head. "I have never seen such a thing before."
"I cannot go to her now, Father," Thyme said unhappily. "The blue cave dwellers have somehow travelled the portal between worlds," he explained. "And Lily's skills with the healing crystal may be called for, to salvage the wongnit Melpis." His father snorted, at the idea of racing to the rescue of a wongnit. Thyme's eyes flashed a wisp of red. "I choose my friends, Aristi, and this wongnit is one of them. I owe it to her, and to Deron, to attempt a rescue."
Aristi, measuring the strength of his son's feelings in the matter, nodded. "Then, I will come along to control the healing, Thyme. I am not unskilled in such matters," he added proudly. His aura touched his son's lightly as they wove speedily between the trees. "You must find some redeeming quality in these wongnits - some finer qualities if you pronounce them friends."
Thyme smiled, shaking his head at his father's obtuseness. "I take them as they are, Aristi. A wongnit cannot be compared with a fairy, only to be found lacking. Deron and Melpis would be terrible fairies, but they are quite decent wongnits. And as to redeeming qualities, Father: Deron's feeling for Melpis is quite the finest thing about him. This, alone, would make them worth preserving."
*
Mari awakened suddenly, but her vision was distant. "Trevor's in trouble!" she told Peter. "Can you sense anything from Katy?"
Peter shook his head, looking uncomfortable. "I can't sense much of anything right now," he admitted. "But, if one of them's having a problem, you know the other won't be standing idly by." He stood up, frustrated and fed up with his incapacity. "You!" he said to Kelwin. "I'm going to need help!"
Paul said, "Let them go, Peter! You could lame yourself for life this way -"
"Paul, if I lose Katy, Trevor, or even Thyme, I'll feel as though I'm permanently lamed." His eyes flared red as his frustration took over.
Kelwin had been standing staring at him, uncertain who to listen to. Peter hobbled over, and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. "Move it!" he said harshly. "Now!" More kindly, he added, "If Mari says it's desperate, you can believe it!" Putting his arm around the man's shoulder, he urged him over to the lounge window. "We'll go this way. Then we won't have to tackle the hall floor."
As he clambered through the window, he glanced back at Mari, and offered her a quick smile. "I'll find them, Mari. Don't worry!" To Paul, he said, "I'll be back as soon as I can." He turned to glare at Vicki, as though daring her to try anything while he was gone. "When I come back, I won't be alone." Vicki knew he wasn't referring to Kelwin. Peter put an arm around Kelwin's strong frame, and they began a rapid three-legged race through the tall grasses.
"How's my shoulder, Paul?" Mari asked impatiently.
"If you quit wiggling around," he said irritably, "it'll stay in position for the healing crystal." She sighed loudly, and Gatley added more kindly, "I just want you to get back full use of your arm, Mar. That means staying put. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's just that everything's in such a mess. Peter, for instance. And - and Katy."
Vicki came over, saying calmly, "It's probably because you aren't up to par yourself, Dr. Sullivan."
Mari looked at the other woman, a question in her eyes. "I appreciate your concern, and I may not like the answer, but can you tell me what you and the others are doing here?"
"Protecting you."
"Specifically, or generally?"
Vicki smiled at the question. "Healers are worth a lot on the open market -"
"Hell!" Paul muttered.
"Even faulty ones?"
Vicki nodded. "Even faulty ones," she confirmed. "We were hired to locate you, but we did it to warn you and the others, so you'd have a chance to get away. We never figured on finding you in this condition."
"Great!" Mari mumbled. "What will they do to me - to us?"
"Exploit you." Vicki decided Mari ought to know everything. "'Cures for hire'. Discover what makes you tick. God knows what else."
"It doesn't sound like God has anything to do with it," Paul said.
Vicki went on. "They'll probably be interested in the others, too, but you're the one with real potential."
Mari wondered if they'd still feel that way if Katy flashed her colours, or Peter his ectoplasm. But she remained silent. Changing the subject, she asked Paul, "What are my chances of a recovery, if I can't use the crystal on myself?"
"Well, if you can avoid excessive movement, probably pretty good." He sensed her tension, and knew she was concerned she and Peter might not be well enough to get away in time. Trying to reassure her, he said, "If you heal as fast as Katy did, when she damaged her spleen, then we're talking anywhere from hours to several days."
Mari nodded, relieved.
The lounge window lifted open again, and someone Mari and Paul had never seen before stepped inside. Vicki snatched up a lamp and swung at him, trying to catch him off-guard. Ducking, he backhanded her, sending her flying against, and over, the chair Peter had vacated a few moments before. As Paul stood up, to place himself in front of Mari, the man stepped calmly forward, kicked him rapidly in the abdomen, and booted him out of the way when he dropped to the floor. Then, pulling a pack of gum from his coat, he offered Mari a stick. "Gum?" he asked, smiling.
Mari scooted back across the floor, wondering what she should do. As she reached the fireplace, she snatched up the poker, brandishing it in front of her. David Nickelson grinned more widely, and held out his hands. "Whoa!" he said. "Wait'll you see what I have." He went back to the window and picked up a wadded blue shirt that he'd left outside.
Mari scooted toward the door. It was her he wanted, and if she could only get out of this room, chances were he wouldn't hurt Paul or Vicki any further. "I'd wait, if I were you," he said. She looked over, measuring the distance between him and the doorway. Nickelson took the shirt, and placed it under a raised foot. "Don't you even want to know what's in it?" he inquired.
In spite of the danger, Mari looked. She could see the knots in the shirt now, from which he'd devised a makeshift bag. And the bag, so close to being crushed under his foot, was squirming. Mari broke out in a sweat, her mouth going dry. The cloth prevented the escape of everything but light. And the pattern of the weave showed boldly in the brightness of a fairy's aura.
***
Chapter Three
Thyme heard Trevor's yell with relief, its normalcy contrasting sharply with the eerie quiet within the hyphae's domain. Recognising the note of desperation in the human's voice, though, he sped up his already swiftly moving wings. Thyme realised that, in spite of Trevor's own experiences, and a fairy warning, Trevor was most likely to have blundered in, as usual. He wondered how many of those on the rescue mission were now trapped in sleep, and sighed as his senses told him it was probably all of them. "Don't send subcreatures out to do what you should do yourself!" he muttered. Aristi heard him, but refused to comment, remembering his son's quick defence of the wongnits.
"Well, there they are!" Thyme said sarcastically, seeing the four of them snoring peacefully, while the blue parasites grew rapidly across their forms. "Send a human out to do a fairy's job," he paraphrased, recalling someone's statement from a movie on Peter's TV. Shaking his head, he determined that Melpis was the most in need of their services, and beckoned his father to help.
"You are good with the crystal, Aristi," he said a moment later, as Melpis stirred. "I feared that we would be forced to carry her to Mari for healing. Dangerous work with a wongnit," he added.
"How so?" Aristi looked puzzled.
"Wongnits tend to flay in their sleep. Some part of their minds is always prepared to deflect unwanted interest - viciously, at times."
"So a wongnit cannot be trusted, even in sleep." Aristi shook his head.
"Father," Thyme snickered, "I did not say that. I merely issued a gentle warning."
"One, I take it, that I can be dwelling on, when I go to heal the second wongnit." Aristi looked annoyed. Thyme, watching his father's face, snorted with amusement.
*
"That's better," David Nickelson said, seeing the resigned look creep into Mari's face.
Using her good arm, she pushed herself upward, coming unsteadily to her feet. "If you don't want me to fight you," she said, "then give me the bag."
Smiling, he picked the bag up off the floor. He tossed it up and down, rather like a juggler's ball, enjoying the cringing look on Mari's face. "Of course," he said, "I could just chuck it at the wall -" he said, pretending to suit action to words.
Mari groaned, sinking down on her knees again, horrified at what Lily must be feeling. She knew it was Lily in the bag - all her senses told her so - and she wondered what damage he may have done to her small person already.
Nickelson dropped the bag on the floor, before approaching the healer. He bent over and pulled Mari up, ignoring her swift intake of breath. "It's all right, Lady. Just kidding." Putting an arm around her, he swooped down and snatched up the shirt-bag once again. Holding it flat on his palm, he openly admired the fairy-generated light peeping through the cloth. He tossed it up once, then held it firmly. "This may be worth even more than you are, Healer." He started to pull Mari over to the window.
"Wait!" Mari said breathlessly. "If you really want me to do some healing, then I'll need my crystals."
David looked disbelieving. "Why?" he asked flatly.
"That's how it works - through the crystals."
David studied her, using his senses to try to determine whether there was any truth in what she said. "Okay," he finally agreed. "Where are they? Tell me quickly," he threatened, "or this little thing is going to part with a wing."
"There - on the table."
"This rock?" He looked at the sparkling, multi-coloured crystals with dark centres. "Well, I guess if they can store megabytes of info on a computer chip, I suppose I can believe these little rocks can heal the sick." He plunked them into her palm.
Mari studied the crystals Katy had produced for her, a short time ago, in a world many dimensions from this one. The hazards that had nearly overwhelmed them in that other world suddenly seemed tame compared to this deliberate, calculated assault upon their persons. I guess it all depends on your point of view, she thought. As Mari clenched the crystals tightly against her chest, she vowed not to use them unless this man attempted to make good his threat to harm Lily, or any of the other people she held dear. It's not my right to set a value on this man's life, she told herself, unless he tries to devalue the ones I love. Even then, she didn't know if she'd find it in herself to use the power against him. She had too many ingrained years of fighting for life, to try to willingly destroy it.
But, she thought, watching him swing the bag Lily was in, if I can't take a life, I might just alter it a little instead. Clenching the corrupted crystals so they bit into her palm, she stumbled as he pushed her toward the window. He forced her through, then searched his surroundings for anyone who might be watching. Half-carrying her, he swung her off the porch, and tugged her firmly around the back of the house.
*
Horace and Jordan witnessed the three-legged dash, as Peter and Kelwin did their uneven lope for the trees. Horace looked at the other man. "Well?" he asked.
Jordan sighed. "Right. This emergency first, phone call later." Whatever had happened, was serious enough for Peter to risk his leg. Seeing the direction they were heading, he added, "It looks like it has to do with the tree problem, anyway."
Peter was having serious difficulty in controlling his anger. He wanted to blame it on his frustration; on the fact that he felt he was dwelling within a sensory cocoon, but his mind told him that wasn't enough to explain the irritability that seemed to be niggling at every nerve end.
Demascar was doing exactly that: niggling away at him, increasing his edginess, wearing his body down to make him more susceptible to infection. Inflaming his leg, causing his temperature to jump up and down. Cutting back his resistance. The infection, when it came, wouldn't be an attack by an opportunistic virus or bacterium, but rather, a massive invasion by molecules that should never have lingered past their former owner's journey to the grave. Peter's current lack of sensitivity was a product of Demascar's waiting presence, which lingered outside Peter's every pore, every orifice - seeking to physically link up once again with that portion hiding deep inside Peter's cells.
The battle within sapped his energies, and filled him with undirected fury. He wondered whether he'd picked up a virus somewhere in his journeys, as he was besieged by yet another wave of fever.
"You're burning up!" Kelwin told him, nervous about what unknown bugs this guy might be carrying. Peter didn't comment. He merely turned to give Kelwin a look that matched his mood.
As they came down the hill, Peter stumbled, incautiously placing weight on his injured limb. He would have gone down if it weren't for Kelwin.
Peter's unholy invader was still exploring, discreetly manipulating chemical balances; testing the results. Now, he wondered whether taxing the mutant's body to this extent might overly deplete it, rendering it useless when the moment of surrender finally arrived. Demascar moved out of Peter's hidden recesses, seeking to assume momentary control.
As Peter stumbled again, blackness impinged on his vision, and he gripped Kelwin's shirt as he fought to stay conscious. He experienced a curious resurgence of strength, that didn't seem to help him at all. It was the last thing he remembered.
Kelwin watched as Trevick shook his head, as though clearing it. "You okay?" he asked.
The eyes that met his were clear, with no trace of the pain-filled haze they'd held only moments before. "Of course," came the response. Then, Trevick pulled away from Kelwin's touch, his distaste at the physical contact obvious. Sneering, he commanded, "Keep your hands off me, if you don't want them broken." Trevick continued on, only a slight limp marring his passage.
"I don't get it," Kelwin muttered. Only a moment before, Trevick had been leaning on him so hard that he'd almost had to carry him. Kelwin had formed the impression of a nice guy caught in bad circumstances. Now, he began to wonder if turning green had also turned all of these people nuts.
*
Trevor sat there yawning, unaware at first that Melpis' head had ended up in his lap. He started to shift her, when he heard Thyme's voice say warningly, "Wongnits tend to rip first, and ask questions later. If you still prize those trinkets at the base of your torso, you assbag, I'd freeze until she wakes up."
Trevor froze everything but his eyes, which were shifting wildly, as he sought the fairy. "Well, wake her up then!" he said in a desperate whisper.
"You should know by now that you can't rush a wongnit," Thyme said mockingly.
"Thyme!" Trevor pleaded. "My 'trinkets' are my one claim to fame." He gave what he hoped was a winning smile.
"In that case, you'll never be famous," the fairy snickered.
Aristi freed Deron from the last vestiges of entangling hyphae. Deron shook himself, tip to tail, hair all askew. He stretched hairy limbs as Thyme asked him to rouse Melpis.
Aristi hovered near Melpis' head, brandishing the healing crystal, almost like a shield, as he fought to lighten the wongnit's yet-deep sleep. Melpis stirred, as she had earlier. Suddenly, her claws lashed out, making the older fairy start in surprise. Thyme yanked his father back, out of her immediate reach, while Trevor battled to control everything from his bladder, to his heartbeat. Think of me as a rock, he prayed. A lump in the soil. An uncomfortable bed. It didn't work. Still in the uncertainty of half-sleep, Melpis turned on the human.
Melpis was fast, but Deron was quicker. He caught her claws in mid-air, tugging her joyously off Trevor's lap, to drag her limpness in rolling circles until she was fully alert.
Trevor heaved a sigh of relief, then turned, to see if Katy was awake. She was still listlessly bound by the yawning uncertainty of half sleep. Silent, she turned her head to stare off in the direction they'd come. Unaware that he was watching, she lightly fingered the bite mark on her neck, going around the toothed impressions gingerly, her expression sad.
Trevor, his tone serious, asked, "Did Peter do that?"
Katy jumped, removing her hand, and letting her hair swing down to cover the marks. "What?" Her expression was still somewhat vague, but Trevor knew she understood him.
"Your neck. Was that Peter's doing?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Trevor," she said, avoiding his eyes.
"Let me see it, Katy." He stood up, prepared to insist that he get a closer look.
Thyme blocked his way. "No, Trevor."
"But her neck -"
"I know."
"You know! Why didn't you say something?"
Thyme hovered in front of him, his glowing eyes meeting Trevor's own. "There was no need, Trevor. If you remember, Katy already had." He flew away, to hover at Katy's side, before leading the way out of the blue hyphae'd maze.
*
Henry was ready. Actually, he'd talked himself into being ready hours ago, after rejoining Colleen in the lounge. Now, he told her, "I'm going over to Trevick's place."
"Wait a minute! What if things are as bad there as they were at my house?"
"Then, I'll have wasted my time." There was a trace of asperity in his voice now. "Haven't you noticed how little this has affected the rest of the world? You watch the news." She nodded, suddenly mute. "I just want to see how everyone else is doing. If the roads are clear, then I can take you to visit your sister - like you wanted." And your sister can enjoy your company. At least, she's a relative. Henry had almost decided he'd rather be bunking with the ghost.
"What about the ghost?" Her question bordered so closely on his thoughts that he nearly jumped.
"The ghost?"
It was her turn to be impatient. "The ghost you insisted you saw at Peter Trevick's."
"I've given that a lot of thought. Ghosts can't actually harm you -" he started to say, then remembered the black nemesis in Trevick's lounge. Changing his tactics, he continued, "It doesn't matter anyway, because I won't be in the house unless someone invites me." He added the clincher. "Look, if you aren't comfortable staying here alone, you can always come with me." He put on his jacket, careful not to look in her direction. She was moving around, obviously searching for something, and his curiosity finally got the better of him. "What are you doing?" he asked, unable to help the note of dismay that crept into his voice.
She had found his jean jacket, and was rolling up the sleeves to fit her shorter arms. He hadn't reckoned on her toughness. "Coming with you, of course," she said, smiling.
*
"Look at this stuff!" Jordan said, fascinated by the intricate growth patterns of the tree parasite.
"Great," Horace mumbled noncommittally. He gave a courtesy look around, then concentrated again on the trail Kelwin and Trevick had made through the grass. He didn't see what this scientist guy was going on about. It just looked like a bunch of dead trees to him. He was more interested in how the two men in front of him had managed to pick up speed. Trevick had looked like he was barely able to walk before; like Kelwin had been largely carrying him. Now, it seemed he was able to make it on his own, and at a good clip, too.
*
Trevor was staring at the ground, his expression serious. He was thinking about what Thyme had said, but it didn't gel with what he'd seen at the house. That had been Peter - he was sure of it - and Katy must have been, too, or she wouldn't have given him a hug. He remembered the way Katy had been tossing and turning, muttering weird things in her sleep when he'd left her under the trees with Lily. Staring now at her back, he wondered if maybe something had gone wrong with her healing - or with Peter's. Considering the two of them, though, he had to admit that Katy had been acting stranger than Peter.
But then, there was the bite. No way that could have been self-inflicted. What if Peter had been caught up in dreams, much as Katy had, and the bite was part of his nightmare - only neither of them realised it? His lips curled in a slight smile, sure he'd hit upon the solution. Peter would never hurt Katy; his action had been like the wongnit's: just a self-defence response. Trevor relaxed, whistling now. He hurried forward to tell Katy, knowing how much better it would make her feel.
*
Qualice saw a yassel in the distance: a small one whose crabwalk was still uneven; a refugee whose slower pace had left it behind. This wee one didn't know enough to be frightened of the gnome. In fact, they were much of a size, and its young-sounding yabbers were more of excitement than terror.
Qualice wrinkled his nose. Yassels, young or old, smelled foully. Their personal scent was reminiscent of dung, but seemed to incorporate some identity from the nasal passages of the inhaler, to make the odour individually repellent. Just as most animals won't foul their eating or living areas, they also tend to reject playing with their own faeces. Qualice's sensitive nostrils began a convulsion of revulsion as he came close to the baby yassel. He tried breathing through his mouth, but that was too much like swallowing that awful smell. Giving up, he made himself ignore his oscillating nose muscles, and give the yassel a smile.
Gyris wondered where the yassels were going. He knew they would be uncomfortable in the open, for yassels despised even the possibility of a wetting. Did they know of caverns nearby, where fellow yassels spent their days? Or were they still seeking shelter, hoping to find it in these hills? Although Gyris' thinking was, at times, ponderously slow, these questions pounded their way into his brain as he shuffled his way in Qualice's wake. He was worried now, for he'd been this way before - and recently. The yassels were coming uncomfortably close to the Shimmer's lair, and he had no intention of following them into the Shimmer's gluttonous gullet.
*
"Hey, wait a minute!" Kelwin called Peter back. "Aren't they down there?" He watched as the other man turned, giving him a dirty, red-glinted look.
"So?"
"I thought you were keen to go to the rescue."
"Maybe I was." Trevick turned and started cutting a new path through the grass.
"Where are you going now?"
"Away."
Kelwin was getting angry. He couldn't figure this guy out, but he didn't like being played for a fool. He grabbed Trevick's arm, and yanked him around.
It was a mistake. Kelwin had never reckoned on Peter's superior strength - not after the way he'd had to support him before. Peter grabbed the front of Kelwin's shirt, twisting it in his hand to tighten it, making Kelwin feel as though it was suddenly three sizes too small.
"What are you doing?!" he squeaked out, his alarm apparent, as Peter glared at him with searing, hate-filled eyes.
"Deciding." His control was weakening. He had too little of his essence invested in this human to be able to maintain his dominance indefinitely. Frustrated, he tossed Kelwin aside. He would have loved to grind this fellow to a pulp, but the real Peter Trevick would be bound to return in the middle of things, and then all would be lost. For, that one would never complete the job, and the body that Jarrod Demascar had been so patient to procure might well be damaged.
Kelwin Stewart remained on his feet. He came at Peter Trevick aggressively, angry now, and shoved him with the flat of his palms.
Trevor Richmond's voice rang out through the air as Peter staggered back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Light invaded Peter's vision, as Demascar fled, submerging himself into Peter's tissues, relinquishing control once more.
Katy started running, but Trevor was quicker. He yanked Stewart back, while Katy balanced Peter, steadying him so he wouldn't fall. Trevor was shoving Kelwin now, but it was Peter who protested. "Trev, what're you doing?" He sounded shocked. "He was coming with me to rescue you -"
Trevor still had his hands clenched in fists. "That was no rescue I saw, Pete. Don't cover for him. I saw him shoving you."
Peter shook his head. "No way. I think I must have passed out, but I remember him helping me." Peter put his hand on Trevor's shoulder, a big grin on his face. "But thanks for coming to rescue me, while I was busy rescuing you," he said.
Trevor still looked unconvinced, partly because of the look on Kelwin's face, and partly because the man still radiated both anger and confusion. Peter looked past Trevor's shoulder now, eyes focusing, for the first time, on the infested trees. Giving Katy an absent-minded squeeze, he pushed her gently to one side, and hopped over to inspect the damage close up. "Incredible!" he said.
Thyme and Trevor looked at each other, saying simultaneously, "Now, that's Peter!" Katy's eyes warmed with an appreciative glow.
Jordan and Horace reached them then, and Peter, taking Jordan's presence for granted, chattered to him. "I don't think it's a plant at all, Jordy."
"Are you crazy? Of course, it's a plant -"
"No, no - look at the cytoplasmic streaming, and the size of the individual cells. Some of the Phycomyces are large -"
"But not this big!"
"Jordy, I'm serious! I think it's an overgrown mycelial mass!"
"Any idea which group?"
"Not Zygo or Oomycete - too many septa. It might be Ascomycotina, but we won't know unless we can find, or grow, a sexual stage. Let's see - conidiophores, rather than sporangiophores - I think we'll just have to call it a Deuteromycete." Scanning the growth in the treetops, he added, "One massive muther of a Deuteromycete."
Jordan nodded. "Well, I guess knowing the enemy makes it better." His look was doubtful. "We can do some fungicide screening, to see if it responds to anything. I've got to admit the idea of a fungus this omnivorous, and this invasive, scares the hell out of me."
Peter sighed. "When I was still an undergrad, I really got into studying fungi. I used to joke around, telling people, 'Fungus rules the world'. God, I'd hate to think I was right."
*
"Lily!" Thyme's wings buzzed, his agitation apparent.
"How can that be? I left her with Cyrnol -" Aristi was disconcerted that even something so simple as a fairy's rest, should be unsafe in this odd world.
"She needs me -" Thyme darted away, his movements so swift that his aura was like a stream of light to the watching humans.
"Peter, I'm going with Thyme -" Katy started to say, noticing that, in his absorption, he hadn't even heard her. "Trevor, could you tell Peter -" she began, but he interrupted her.
"I'm coming, too."
"I'll tell him," Horace offered.
Katy smiled her thanks and turned to go. She looked around, to find Horace still watching her. "Peter," she said hesitantly, "tends to get caught up in his work. Will you make sure he doesn't - get caught up, that is?" Horace nodded, giving her a big wink. She turned and ran off, tagging along after the two bright auras moving speedily up the hill.
*
Qualice saw the first weaving ribbons of the gate's light, and urged the small yassel to move more quickly. If they were already near the portal, then they were far too close to the Shimmer. Hearing a rustle in the trees to his right, he flinched, and placed the yassel behind him, wishing he had his water-shooter to defend them. Fearful that this might be a dreaded Sylybin, he quivered, trying to make himself as small as possible, while still hiding the little yassel. Gyris, observing his response, yanked the leaves from his feet, then thundered toward the quailing gnome.
The underlit shrubbery and emerald grass parted, to reveal the great purple head of a cat-beast. Seeing it slink forward, Qualice cowered before the sharp expanse of teeth, realising only belatedly that the mouth was parted in a smile. Cyrnol! Qualice uncoiled himself out of a near-knotlike tenseness, and greeted his friend with an answering smile. Gyris' thudding approach slowed, and the big cat yawned, illustrating his lack of concern for their initially wary responses. It was, after all, what a cat-beast grew to expect.
Qualice spoke urgently to Cyrnol, assuming he would help them, happy now that they had another ally. "The yassels fear us -" he began in Cyrnol's own tongue, then had to wait until the cat-beast finished laughing. Slightly affronted, the gnome explained further. "I wet a yassel, and then, in apology, we blew them up." His confused explanation set Cyrnol off once more. The purple cat's rumble frightened Gyris, until he realised that Cyrnol was nearly hysterical with mirth.
"And now what?" Cyrnol asked Qualice. "Murder? Mayhem? Feeding them to the Shimmer?" He paused, considering the matter. "I don't think the Shimmer would be all that grateful."
Qualice's irritation was obvious. "The matter is urgent, Cyrnol. We must apologise once more, then see them home to their caverns."
"Will you apologise then, as you did before?" the cat asked with a grin.
Gyris' deep voice cut through the levity lingering behind the cat's smile. "We have done them harm, and Qualice says we must fix it. It is possible that the yassels fear you more than they fear us. Perhaps you could help us to stop their flight."
The length of the gargoyle's speech did much to impress Cyrnol, who knew that the gargoyles were not prone to either thinking, or long conversations. The thought of the yassels being more frightened of this silly gnome, and this rock-like gargoyle, than they were of him, was, at once, annoying, and terribly amusing. However, these two oddities were his friends, a thing the cat-beast possessed in limited numbers. "Very well," he said, grumbling. "But, we do it my way."
*
Kelwin was watching Peter Trevick, and Horace was watching Kelwin. "Spill it, Kelwin," Horace said softly.
"I just don't get it. That guy's either schizo or putting on a good act."
"He looks okay to me."
"That's just it." Kelwin turned to Horace, his voice rising in irritation. Horace shushed him. "That's just it," Kelwin said again, this time in a whisper. "One minute everything's fine, and the next, I could swear he'd tear out my throat - if he thought he could get away with it."
Horace was certain Stewart was exaggerating. "He wouldn't have the strength to tear out your throat." He chuckled. "Your fingernails; maybe a hair or two; your eyelashes; a button or two off your shirt - but that's it. He can barely stand up. He might want to do you damage, but you could flatten him with your breath."
Kelwin's voice was serious. "You don't believe me," he said flatly. "Well, you just watch him, Horace. Like the lady said, keep your eyes on him. What you see, might just surprise you."
***
Chapter Four
"Mari!" Katy exclaimed. She was running alongside Trevor when the awareness hit her, that Lily was not alone in her trouble; that Mari was also in near despair.
Trevor nodded grimly. "I should have realised, when Peter turned up down below, that Mari was unprotected."
"She had Paul Gatley with her."
"She was unprotected, Katy. Paul Gatley's only human."
She was stunned by his words, but knew he was right. Even while they clung to their humanity, like a lifeline through a titanic storm, they'd all come to accept that their abilities had gone far beyond any they used to possess. I guess I've come to grips with what I am, Katy thought, and even learned to appreciate it. She realised that experience had been a grim, but effective, teacher. Without these gifts we now consider our own, we would never have survived.
She picked up speed, trying not to fall too far behind Trev. She thought of Mari: injured, upset, frightened. Cursing those who dared to harm her friend, she acknowledged something else. Without those same gifts, we might never have had our survival challenged.
*
Mari sensed that Thyme wasn't far away. In the next moment, a warm feeling swept through her: Trevor was also nearby. Her concerns for Lily's safety grew, as she wondered how this sadist would respond to opposition. She wasn't worried for herself; obviously this man Nickelson had been ordered to bring her in, and probably in fairly decent condition. Unfortunately, Thyme's appearance, in all his angry splendour, might be enough to convince the man that one fairy was expendable, if another was readily available. Thyme, for all his insight, would be unprepared to deal with someone who'd just as soon kill Lily, as keep her. Nickelson had probably decided a hefty bonus would be forthcoming upon producing the fairy, with her glowing aura and gilt wings. But to Nickelson, it wouldn't matter which fairy. And Mari didn't want Lily sacrificed to the man's greed.
Unobtrusively, she moved closer to Nickelson, feigning a weakness she didn't feel, her anger having driven away all thoughts of her incapacity. She wanted to be close enough to touch him, if the occasion warranted - to use the power of this distorted crystalline rock, to gain the advantage. She didn't know what it would do, but it didn't matter. Whatever wrong she did, it would be in the belief that she might later be able to put it right.
*
Edwin was frustrated. He realised he may have been wrong in assuring Horace that he'd be able to find this guy. Although Edwin's healing episode had heightened his awareness, he'd done enough reading recently to understand that his new ability would best be termed precognitive. He had an inkling, an intimation - a premonition, even - of what was to come, but that didn't exactly work like some kind of supernatural radar. I might be able to figure out where this Nickelson is going to be ten minutes from now, but for the moment, I don't have a clue. He warred with himself whether to follow logic, and check out the tractor shed, or his instincts, and make for the trees, where they'd first seen the healer at work, and where he sensed the man would eventually end up.
The years of making logical decisions won. Moving silently, he urged Alex Westerley in the direction of one of the concrete and dirt mounds, which loomed ingloriously between them and the shed. He assumed that Horace and Jordan had joined Vicki and Gatley in the lounge, so it never occurred to him to check inside. Even though, according to the rumour mill at good ol' HQC, Nickelson was one ballsy son-of-a-bitch, Ed didn't think even he would dare to confront all the strong arms between himself and the healer.
Ed was getting superstitious, and hated himself for it. He knew it had to do with this - at times unwanted - gift of prophesy. It wasn't totally reliable; he couldn't turn it on and off as he chose, and it certainly wasn't all-inclusive. But, damn it, if he pictured lightning striking a place, his own sense of self-preservation wouldn't permit him to get near that place, even if the day was as hot and sunny as this one, and even if the event wouldn't take place for the next ten years. Hexed. Superstitious. Stupid.
Right now, he was congratulating himself for following his logic, rather than his intuition. At the same time, he was worried that he was making a big mistake, somehow. But, maybe the reason Nickelson is going to be near the trees, where I picture him, is because Westerley and I are going to chase him there.
Just to reassure himself, he took a quick glance across the pastureland, toward the forest. He couldn't see anyone or anything now. But, there was always the possibility Nickelson was lurking there, hidden. Ed wondered if a lifetime of this kind of ambivalence would eventually drive him nuts. Shaking his head at his own confusion, he nudged Westerley's arm, and they headed once again toward the outbuilding. They'd only gone a few paces, however, when a loud crunching and scrabbling sound under the house brought them to full alert.
Alex tensed, picturing what David Nickelson would want to do to him after having knocked him silly. With Nickelson's type, you could be sure it would be payback: any way he could, and at any time. He found he was sweating.
The sound came again, followed this time by an odd grunting sound. Edwin looked over at Alex, eyebrows raised, his expression curious. Alex couldn't enlighten him. It wasn't any sound he recognised. Then, a groan - almost like someone's moaning anguish - came drifting out from under the house. "What the hell?" whispered Ed.
"Maybe he got stuck under there," Alex remarked.
The two exchanged unhappy looks. Neither wanted to be caught under the house with a near-psychotic individual. Alex had read Nickelson's file, but the dry words couldn't compare with the rumours Ed had told him about the man's activities at HQC. Alex suspected that a lot had been deliberately kept off the record.
Ed hadn't spared Alex when he talked to him about Nickelson's reputation and suspected methods. He figured a little healthy fear might keep Westerley alive.
At the time, Alex had thought these men were all pretty much alike, and didn't see any reason for hiding the disgust he felt for their "breed". Now, he was beginning to change his mind.
Without discussing it, they both dropped to the ground, using their elbows and knees in weird scooting motions, to pull themselves under the shallow gap between house and soil. Some of the spiders under here were big, brown, and hairy, and Alex cringed. He'd always hated spiders - especially spiders who were too dumb to realise that you were too big for a proper meal; who dropped on you, then crawled around on those tickly legs, trying to poison-fang you to death. He flicked one off his arm and squished it, thinking, Stick that in your web, or your ass, or whatever else you fancy, you eight-legged ugly. Ping - splat! Another one went sailing, to leave its battered remains in the dirt. Show that to your relations, he thought. Distracted as he was, with eyes as yet unadjusted to the light, it was no wonder that the attack, when it came, was such a shock.
The thing had claws. His only real warning was a stirring of dirt, a whisper of fetid breath, and the thing was on him. Startled at the high squeals of his attacker, caught in the half-light of the near subterranean environment, tortured by the scraping of claws down his arm - he lashed out, landing a blow with his fist, on what he thought was the thing's head. The creature, contrary to being deterred, responded in aural fury, giving loud growls and hollow, echoing yells. Alex started yelling, too.
Edwin, unable to see what was happening in the dim and dusty confines, reached out, to grab what he thought would be Alex's arm or shoulder. Instead, he got a grip on something hairy and round, that felt suspiciously like some animal's genitals, and he yelped in surprise. So did the unknown animal.
Alex, in a panic, scraped, scritched, and scooted backwards - wanting only to be out of there, free of the dark, the dust, and that thing. After all that he'd seen and heard about, his mind was twisting in unlimited visions - horror-filled pictures of demented creatures that wanted to tear him apart, consume him, render any number of unmentionable beastly acts upon his person.
Wrapped up in his own terror, he kept moving backwards, until the sweet smell of grass under his noise told him he could open his eyes. He discovered that he was not only clear of the house, but three metres out from the building.
He breathed a sigh of relief, then sucked it back in again as he looked around for Edwin. Terrified, he saw that Edwin was still submerged, with only his feet poking out from the shadows.
His fear gave him strength, and Alex set his jaw, determined to save the other man. Latching on to Edwin's legs, he yanked him so violently, that Ed, whether he liked it or not, found himself on a one-way trip through the dirty gravel, cement-chip, and wood slivers that littered the uneven ground. Ed wouldn't have minded half so much if he hadn't made the trip on his face.
Still panicked, unable to think, Alex tugged Edwin further, pulling him clear of the house, and out onto the drive. As his own feet crunched gravel, he suddenly realised what he was doing, and dropped Edwin's legs with a resounding thunk.
Edwin rolled over slowly and sat up, while Alex watched warily, wondering what this guy was going to do to him. Edwin's entire body was coated with dirt, particularly his hair, which lay in dirt-encrusted coils. Sitting there so stiffly, eyes closed and muscles tensed in annoyance, he had the vacant-eyed look of a Greek statue gone wrong.
The opening of his eyelids stirred little avalanches of dirt down his face, and his eyes appeared oddly bright against the dusty brownness, as did his tongue and teeth, when he opened his mouth to speak. "I suppose -" Ed spat out some of the crumbling soil that was falling off his lips, "- that (spit) I should (spit) thank you (cough) (spit)," he said, his voice heavily sarcastic.
Alex didn't know what to say. Shaky still, he responded with the first words that popped into his head. "My pleasure," he said.
*
Mari huddled on the edge of her seat, as far away from Nickelson as she could get, while he tried to start the car. When he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, she jumped, then immediately regretted it. The extra jarring to her shoulder almost made her pass out.
Nickelson was fuming. He realised he'd been duped - that someone had deliberately dismantled something in the engine. It bothered him that they'd second-guessed him, but it didn't particularly surprise him. He assumed that the sabotage had been performed by one of his former co-workers. And, after all, they'd all been trained by the same man - but, he thought with a smile that would've made Mari shudder had she been watching, I was trained better.
He usually minimised his frustrations by taking them out on somebody else. He thought about Mari Sullivan, but she was already looking pretty bad. It'd be tough enough now to convince his employers that this really was the healer.
He lifted up the makeshift bag, and shook it a little. The winged thing wasn't wiggling any more, and he figured it wouldn't be worth nearly as much dead as alive and glowing.
He clambered out, moved around to Mari's side of the car, and yanked her out. Her unwilling groan of pain did much to appease his annoyance, bringing a smile to his lips. Forcing her to sit on the side of the road, he checked Westerley's car. Locked, and no keys. He considered breaking a window, and hot-wiring it, but he sensed they were already looking for him. By the time he went through all the rigamarole, they'd have him, encumbered as he was.
Suddenly, he had a thought. "How do you get one of those horses to fly?" he asked.
"You can't. Not unless they want to."
"What would make them want to? This?" He kicked her in the leg. "Or this?" He aimed his foot at her face, but stopped just short of her cheek - satisfied when she cowered, burying her face in her good arm. She still wouldn't answer. "Well," he said, jovially, "I think we'll just take our chances." As she started to struggle to her feet, he paused. "Wait a minute. I just want to see what the opposition's up to." He pulled a scrap of shirt material from his pocket, smiling unpleasantly as Vicki's white face drifted into his vision.
*
Vicki was helping Paul Gatley to his feet, when she suddenly froze. "What is it?" Paul asked.
"Can you feel it?" she whispered. "Almost like someone's watching -"
Paul nodded. He spun around, checking the room, but no one was there. "Maybe the place really is haunted," he said, keeping his tone light.
"I think it's more personal than that." She shuddered. "Whatever it is, it certainly feels malevolent."
He felt the sore area across his stomach, sighed, and grabbed Vicki's arm. "C'mon," he said. "We've got to find Mari and the others."
"Shouldn't I stay here? In case someone shows up?"
"And leave you in the hands of your 'secret admirer'? Not a chance."
"It does seem to be directed at me, doesn't it?" He nodded. "Whoever it is, enjoys seeing me squirm. This is the third time it's happened."
"After we straighten out the rest of this mess, we'll see if we can find him, Vicki."
"Thanks," she said. "Window or hall?" she asked.
"Window," he replied. "That's the only smart move Nickelson made." He looked at her. "We have to hurry," he urged her. "If Trevor gets hold of the man, it may be the last move he makes."
*
Mari resisted Nickelson's urging, saying firmly, "I want to see if the fairy's okay."
Nickelson's eyes darted to her face, then away again. It was obvious the man was getting edgy. "Fairy? So that's what you're calling it!" He sneered, his voice intentionally derisive.
Mari wasn't fooled. She spoke to him calmly. "She's as valuable to you as I am. Maybe more so. And, for all you know, she could be dead already." Mari kept her tones even, sensible. She didn't want to offer this man any incentive for squashing Lily. His instability would have been obvious without her highly-developed intuition - with it, his disposition was frighteningly erratic. Any challenge to his authority might well make him lose control.
Nickelson gripped Mari's good arm, his fingers leaving dark purply-brown bruises in the green of her skin. He lifted the makeshift bag, reassuring himself that light still shone through the woven pattern. "Dead or alive, it's worth money," he said, smiling again. "If dead's easier -" He shrugged. But Mari noticed he handled the bag with slightly more care than he had before. She also noted that he was no longer keeping it tied to his belt, where Lily would be jostled against his leg at every step. Using a button hole on the shirt-bag, he secured it to the front of his shirt. Right where he can watch it, Mari thought. And right where I can reach it.
*
"Any idea how far it's spread?" Peter bagged the fungi and plant tissues Jordy was carefully detaching from an infected tree.
Jordy didn't answer him until they'd limped along, at Peter's pace, to the next tree. "No way of telling yet. But it's widespread, Peter - acres - God only knows how many. If you were to leave here, and drive a third of the way toward town, you'd still be in it."
Peter gave a low whistle. "Could be hundreds of acres."
"Trees appear to be the primary hosts."
Peter looked at the grassy patches bordering the trees, which remained clear of infection. "Maybe it just doesn't like monocots."
Jordan pointed down at a mummified rat, wrapped in blue netting. "Or maybe, with so much variety to its diet, it can afford to be picky."
"If it's the same organism Thyme was talking about, it's undergone a major change in its habitat. That one was a cave-dweller, emerging from the rock only to eat."
Jordan sighed. He wanted to ask Peter where that was, but some inner voice told him he wouldn't like the answer. He merely gave Peter an odd look, before saying, "We'll need an aerial survey, but I'd say the level of damage is so damned extensive already, that we're going to have trouble getting control. If we can get control." Jordan looked unhappy, and vaguely guilty. "I started getting reports about it the day before yesterday, but we've been so overworked lately -" He left it hanging, but the inference was clear.
"Because I wasn't there, and you didn't want to take on somebody else without knowing where I stood?"
Jordan nodded.
"I'm sorry, Jordy. I couldn't tell you the truth, and I couldn't lie to you any more." He grinned, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "You wouldn't have believed the truth. And just telling you I was leaving would have brought you hot-footing it out here to thunk some sense into my thick skull. Crying illness would have had the same result." He stopped for a moment, thinking about it, then gave a wry laugh. Seeing the humour in the situation, his eyes lit up more brightly, tilting up at the corners. His attenuated ears, and the contours of his face gave it an irresistible elfin quality, that made Jordy grin in spite of himself. "With some of the experiences we've undergone, though, claiming a sick day or two wouldn't have been too far wrong."
"I still wish you'd told me something. If not the truth, then at least some indication that you might not be back." Jordan looked at the decimated forest. "If I'd brought in extra help a week ago, then maybe I could have gotten on to all this sooner." He waved a hand to indicate the inundated forest.
Peter thought back to where he was a week ago, surprised that he had no distinct memories of it. Suddenly, he realised why. "Jordy," he said, laughing. "A week ago at this time, I was dead."
*
Aristi looked doubtfully at Trevor and Katy. Thyme's sensitivity was focused on Lily's predicament: an intentional form of immunity against other distractions. Aristi, however worried about Lily, was, nevertheless, finding something about these humans definitely distracting. Both of them were angry, but that wasn't all. The more upset Mari Sullivan and Lily became, the more it reflected on these human friends. But the reflection had gone wrong in some fashion: like a lake-drawn image distorted by ripples. The image was transmuted into waverings of light, hundreds of oscillating bits and pieces. This was particularly true of Katy, and he had no idea as to what final form her anger would take. With Trevor, the emotion was already distorted into something the fairy couldn't recognise.
Anger, fear, and dismay were still there, masking a hot charge of some other force, that to Aristi appeared like the discharge of static sparks. The fairy sensed that these sparks of distorted fury were venting some massive explosive force that lay smouldering underneath - keeping it contained against premature release.
Aristi wondered whether he should tell the humans, since they seemed unaware of the changes to their persons. Studying them, he realised that their surface emotions might well shield them from accepting the truth of his words. No, he decided. Control over such powerful emotive force would be best achieved with the proper words at the appropriate time. And that time has not arrived. Yet.
*
Cyrnol lazily outdistanced the jittery crabwalkers, reluctant to bestir himself in so unworthy a cause. He failed to see the glory in re-domiciling a motley group of confused and stench-ridden slime-eaters, but decided that he would do it for old Rock Face and Quiver Butt (of all Thyme's names for them, Cyrnol considered these the most appropriate).
As Cyrnol lay in the shadows, tail lashing arrogantly, he thought about the humans' predicament. Whether or not the gnome and gargoyle had requested his help, he would still be lingering near the gate. Lily, after a startled awakening, had urged him to comply with Aristi's suggestion to the esquiors - to replenish his being with a return to this world. He wondered if her real purpose had been to prevent his consumption of some of the more annoying humans who were plaguing Katy and the others: perhaps having doubts about his distaste for such fare in that dimension.
Bored with waiting, he looked up, spying the glistening white of circling esquiors. The grumblings in his throat were mocking, chiding his and the esquiors' reluctance to abandon the humans - to relinquish the adventures they had shared. Pride discouraged any admission that inter-dimensional friendships might be at the root of it all. I am Cyrnol. I walk proud, alone: a silent stalker with command in my heart. He repeated the litany to himself, just to make certain it still fit. If I choose to serve others, it is only because it serves my purposes as well. The esquiors also claimed to be loners, but there they flew, awaiting only the word that they were needed, to make them return.
Something has changed us, Cyrnol realised. I bear two cat-beasts within my person: the one who once stalked alone, heedless, without concern - the core to the creature I have become. Before, I defined myself as cat-beast, and Symmerley as esquior. Now, those distinctions have blurred, their colours blended - distinction lost in experience - new loyalties forged out of humour, pain, and respect.
I am Cyrnol. He started the litany again, trying to define himself once more within the canting rhythm, seeking the harsh colours of a reality that he had always accepted - that didn't permit uncertainty. Looking up at the skies, he wondered it the esquiors were doing the same - questioning the change in their persons, that left them unwilling to abandon these others in their distress. That left their senses wondering where they left off, and the others began.
I am aiding a gnome and a gargoyle! Cyrnol admitted to himself, as the first crabwalker came into view. He was somewhat shocked at the facts, unwrapped by excuses. Impossible! But, no more impossible than those dictates of tradition, culture, and natural reticence, that should never have permitted either a gnome or a gargoyle to embroil himself in such folly - to have created such a massive dilemma, then take it upon himself to try to mend it.
Cyrnol considered it, his teeth showing as a grin split his face. Through their resourcefulness, Qualice and Gyris had nearly destroyed an entire culture. Overcoming their backgrounds, to invest in so much trouble, was, in itself, deserving of some reward. I have already rewarded them with my patronage, Cyrnol thought. Now, I will reward them further, by sending these reluctant and malodorous immigrants back to where they started.
*
Peter worried about Lily, wishing he knew whether she'd been successfully rescued. I didn't even know she was in trouble! The loss of his sensory ability was becoming almost as painful to him as the ache in his leg.
He looked off in the direction of the only local trees that remained uninfected. I wonder when Jordy will notice them, he fretted, and put two and two together. It may seem like a lifetime, but it's really only been a couple of weeks since he had to chuck out those samples for me. The thought gave him pause. Has it really been such a short time?
So much change. The alterations in his person - his mutated being - Peter could accept now, in much the way that people are forced to accept catastrophic natural disasters like earthquakes, tornadoes, fires. Great change could be effected in mere minutes. What he found harder to believe, was the vast amount of experience that had been crammed into the last several weeks: the impossible things that he'd been forced to accept as reality. Had he really known Thyme and Mari, Lily and Symmerley - less than a month? Was it possible that a few short weeks ago, he'd never heard of a wongnit? He shook his head in disbelief, and looked back at Jordan, who was still nervously collecting samples of infected tissue. Jordan's shoulders were slumped, his brow creased in worry. Jordy's in a depressed and panicky near-despair, whereas I'm hardly fazed by this situation. Peter smiled, thinking about Jordan's fears of being consumed by this thing. I wonder how he'd react if I told him about my scrambling escape from the Shimmer.
Peter longed for the sensory acuity that he'd somehow lost. He had a craving for that near-painful sensation of touch, the astonishing colour perception, the linkage between souls that left him an awareness of those he cared about, even at a distance. I'm like a gourmet, who can no longer distinguish chocolate from tomato sauce.
Lily, are you okay? He hoped that, wherever she was, she'd read his concern. Just because I'm short-sighted, he reasoned, doesn't mean the rest of the world sees things as a blur. I just wish there were some glasses that would give me back my inner vision.
Katy, I miss you. I miss that little bit of you that sits with me, warming my soul. I'm short-sighted, muffled on a hot summer day, with cotton balls in my ears against an infection I never had. All my senses draped in winter woollies. Peter stared at Jordan, Horace, and Kelwin. Is that the way I used to be? Was my perception so limited? With so little ability to sense each other's feelings, it's no wonder human beings have such a difficult time getting along - and so little regard for other species. Peter forced his depressing thoughts away as a sharp knot of pain built in his leg. He dressed himself in a smile and limped over to join Jordan's ginger exploration of a desiccated pine.
*
David Nickelson dragged Mari away from the vehicles, pleased with himself at contriving a means of escape. His boldness was fading quickly, however, as a nerve-tingling sense of impending disaster overtook him. He forced Mari to move quickly, circumventing the house by using the two large concrete and dirt mounds in the front for concealment. He could hear Westerley's voice now, and gave Mari a warning look, the threat implicit. It squelched any thoughts she may have had about yelling for help.
The presence that was shadowing them, intimidating Nickelson, and causing him such trepidation, was filling her with warmth and promise. With the reassurance of rescue so close at hand, she was tempted to try to talk this man into releasing them - to let him know that he'd never had a chance - that he had no idea of who or what he was really up against. Only the fear that the man's instability might cause him to injure either Lily or her further, rather than submit, stilled her tongue.
She could read his character fairly well now, after the time spent in his presence. Pride was an important aspect, as was winning. There was no shadow of guilt pressing upon his soul, and she was troubled over the lack of any conscience in his actions. Defeat wouldn't sit well with him and, like a small child, he might take a petty vengeance to soothe his spirit. Unlike the others - her thoughts drifted to Vicki and Edwin - whose new sensitivities had provided a certain enlightenment, making the performance of some of their former duties under Mader's employ onerous and conscience-stirring - this man had put his inner knowledge to use for manipulation and gain. Outwardly, he could probably fool people like Horace, or Kelwin, but to anyone with intuitive ability, his inner being was rank, like a fruit whose core had rotted out, but whose skin remained relatively unblemished.
Except for the eyes. Mari didn't dare meet them, for fear he would read her own assessment of his person. It wouldn't improve his treatment of her - of that she was certain.
"All right, Bitch! Where is it?" He shook her, his hand under her arm, hauling her upwards - bringing her face up against his own.
Mari had been drifting, lost in her thoughts, forcibly redirecting her mind to suppress the pain in her shoulder, while trying to figure out what she should do when rescue arrived. Any additional energies she'd focused toward concealing her thoughts from him, so he wouldn't read her relief that Trevor, Thyme, and Katy were near.
"Call it!" he demanded.
The esquiors! She looked down toward the trees, staring at the glowing portal between worlds. The only movement came from the ribboning lights weaving through the forest. "They're gone," she said stupidly, her mind hazy.
He gripped her torn shoulder, forcing her to her knees. Gritting his teeth, he measured the effect on her - inflicting pain was his speciality, but required a delicate touch - a little would apply a new keenness to her thinking - too much and she'd pass out. "Bring it back!" he commanded. "Now!" His attention was split by the overwhelming urgency of his now-screaming intuition. When Mari nodded in acquiescence, he took her agreement at face value, assuming his methods had had their usual effect.
Mari, still on her knees - curled inward with pain - realised that Lily, at least, would never survive this man's defeat. It would be too easy for him to kill her - in retaliation - the surest way to inflict pain on us both. And if I don't summon the esquiors, he'll use her to 'motivate' me.
But I can't sense Zylon or Symmerley, which means they must have returned to their own world. If I go through the gate, to bring them back, then he'll kill Lily anyway - simply because I left. Someone with his distorted emotions would never believe me if I swore to return - because it's something he'd never conceive of doing himself.
I need to keep Lily alive until rescue arrives. To Mari, that meant removing the fairy from Nickelson's reach. For, if he gets even an inkling of the way Trevor or Thyme are feeling, he'll try to even the odds with Lily's hide. Once decided, Mari didn't dare to hesitate. This creature was too intuitive, and he might guess her intentions, even as she formed them. Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for his response, which would no doubt be painful to her, she snatched the makeshift bag from his shirtfront - ripping it free, a button going flying in her haste.
It was the last thing he expected. He never thought she'd have the strength to defy him. He looked down at his exposed middle, as though to convince himself that she'd actually done it.
As Mari huddled, protecting the bag with her own person, teeth clenched as she sought energy to match her sense of purpose - which was focused right now on running away - she chanced a quick look at her captor. What she saw in his face gave her the extra impetus she needed to get to her feet. For, contrary to what Mari had expected, David Nickelson was smiling. She'd just given him a reason to do what he enjoyed most.
***
Chapter Five
Trevor felt it - the lurch of Mari's panic as she saw that heinous parody of humour. He was dangerously close to the edge now, his quick temper barely held in check. He couldn't recall ever being as angry as he was now - now that Mari was threatened. Katy felt the heat of it, almost like a burning flare - the intensity of it causing her own rage to cool slightly in her shock over his.
Aristi, unwillingly monitoring both his son's and Trevor's mounting tempers, fidgeted nervously, his wings twitching slightly as he flew. Never had he encountered anything like this before. Thyme and the humans, bracing themselves for the scene to come, never even noticed the thing that was terrifying the older fairy. Thyme, sensing his father's discomfort, assumed it was on Lily's behalf.
Aristi had noticed that as Trevor's anger heightened, so had its expression. The tall grass stalks, which should have been parted and crushed under their feet, were not reacting as he had come to expect such sedentary items should. The stalks were actually parting in anticipation of their steps, as though to ease their passage so they could reach their destination sooner. And the tips of the culms behind them, in a trail that clearly marked their steps, were charred in brilliant multi-coloured hues.
*
Paul reached back, grabbed Vicki's hand, and set off at a pace that startled himself. An overwhelming feeling of menace hung in the air, thick and lingering like a smoky haze, driving his feet, and making his heart pound. At first, he credited the ill-feeling to Nickelson, and he was filled with horror lest the guy harm Mari before one of them could get to her. But then, a small doubt crept in. He couldn't help but wonder about the unknown source of that ill-intent: was it the good guys, or the bad? How potent was Trevor's anger? Paul moved even faster, scared now that the 'good guys' would forget themselves in a moment of hot-headed fury.
*
Horace was trying not to stare at Peter Trevick, while unobtrusively looking for the signs of the personality change that Kelwin had described. For all that Stewart acted the buffoon at times, the man was no fool, which meant that Trevick bore watching. After observing him for a while, however, Horace couldn't help but come up with some conclusions of his own, and most of these were motivated by pity. The man's leg was obviously paining him, for all that he was trying to ignore it. There were other signs, too - of fever and muzziness, that indicated he was sicker than anyone had thought. However good the healer may have been when curing other people, her methods had sure backfired with this man. Horace was beginning to believe that any personality changes may have been brought on by the short temper that often accompanies illness - or maybe, delirium from fever. And, admittedly, Kelwin was the type who tended to try other people's tempers, even when they were feeling great, and totally in their right minds.
Kelwin nudged him, none too gently, unintentionally confirming the former. "Look!" he exclaimed.
Not only Horace, but Peter and Jordan responded to his startled tones. Peter, his eyes and ears still keener than the others, despite the infirmity that gripped him, shoved the bags he was holding into Jordan's hands and took off at a limping run. Mari's rigid movements were driven by terror and desperation. It was obvious to him, even at this distance.
Kelwin and Horace turned to follow more slowly, uncertain of the state of affairs, but Jordan called them back. "Wait!" he said hoarsely, fear in his voice. Jordan, startled by the unexpected speed of Peter's reaction, had inadvertently taken a step backwards. Now, as he pulled forward, he felt a sticky tugging at his shirt. His throat went tight as he realised what had snagged him.
"I've got to get this shirt off," he said, his voice squeaking now in the beginnings of panic.
"Not only the shirt," Kelwin affirmed, "but the pants, too."
Horace gave him a pained look, but only muttered, "Shut up, Kelwin." He took over from Jordan's fumbling fingers as the man struggled to undo the buttons on his shirt. Smirking to himself, Horace kept his voice serious as he said, "Hey, Kel, undo Mr. Callaghan's trousers, okay?"
Jordan looked grateful, but embarrassed.
Kelwin saw his face turn slightly red. "Don't worry. If I were going to be bare-assed, I'd be embarrassed, too." He chuckled at his own joke.
Jordan glanced at Horace, who shrugged. As Jordan slipped out of the last of his clothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said to the two men.
Horace had stood up, and was following Peter with his eyes. "We'd better help out," he said, starting in that direction.
Kelwin looked back at Jordan. "Are you coming?" he asked, his grin ridiculing the other's near-nakedness.
"Of course," Jordan responded sharply. "Bare-assed rescues are my speciality. Especially," he commented, remembering how little Peter and his friends were wearing, "since I'm the only one who bothered to dress down for the occasion."
*
Nickelson didn't see Peter heading his way. The felt-like coating that was blocking Peter's extra-sensory abilities, also served to deflect the notice of his coming. As Nickelson reached Mari, Peter lurched forward, using his body as a solid weight to knock Mari's attacker off-balance, buying her time to move a few steps further away. "Run, Mari!" he screamed at her. Mari, feeling as though she were slogging through thick mud, moved as fast as she could, while fighting with the knots that held Lily prisoner.
Peter was too close to the gate - to that portal between worlds. The electromagnetic draw against his person was like a warning siren to his unseen tenant, who lurked along the intercellular connections of Peter's ectoplasm-producing cells. Jarrod Demascar was taking no chances of losing that which he'd gone to such great efforts to procure. What he'd claimed, he kept. As Nickelson, lost in his fury, prepared to kick Peter's face in, Demascar took over.
*
Edwin struggled to his feet, letting Alex give him a hand up, in a gesture of good will. Ed felt as though he'd eaten a stomach-load of dust and gravel, even though he knew it was just the sour taste in his mouth that was giving him an equally sour stomach. Alex, ashamed now of his panic, attempted to brush off some of Edwin's clinging dirt, pointedly avoiding looking at the abrasions on the other's face, or meeting his eyes. He failed to notice Edwin's shift of focus, and the uneasy expression that crossed his face. As Alex gingerly patted the other man's back, sending clouds of dust flying chokingly into the air, Edwin coughed out, his eyes streaming, "Forget it! We need to get down to where the action is -" As he moved to get a clear view of the place where they'd first spotted the healer and her odd friends, he could see that two people appeared to be fighting, while a third was trying to get away. He started to run.
Alex ran after him. The dust he'd failed to remove drifted off Edwin, and into his eyes and mouth. At first, he figured he deserved it, after dragging the other man so forcibly through the dirt. Then, having enough of his self-inflicted martyrdom - after all, his intentions had been good - he picked up his pace, to run at Edwin's side, through the heavy grass, and down to the action below.
*
Paul spied Trevor and Katy, before he saw Mari. He was on the point of calling out, to divert Trevor's attention - to talk some sense into him, before the man did something he'd regret.
"Wait! Don't do it!" Vicki said firmly, but quietly.
It was enough to stop him. Feeling as strongly as he did, that Trevor was in imminent danger of overstepping the bounds, Paul was surprised that he didn't argue with her. Something, however, that he didn't understand, made him hesitate. Was it his new internal acuity that was warning him? Or some physical cue, that he couldn't put his finger on?
It was Vicki who made him realise what was wrong with the overall picture. The awed whisper in which she spoke of the anomaly made a shiver of gooseflesh travel down his back. "Watch the grass -" she said. Then, as his eyes looked at the colourful trail behind them, he shrugged. He'd seen Katy's colour display before, in far more frightening circumstances. Vicki nudged him, impatient with his obtuseness. "Not behind," she insisted. "Look in front of them!" Paul watched as their trail preceded them, parting ahead of their feet, the tips charring and shrivelling in colourful demise as they passed. "What does it mean?" Vicki asked in a whisper.
"It means we'd better be close behind when they find David Nickelson," he whispered back, breaking into a jog as he followed the swathe of their journey through the pasture.
*
It was inconceivable to Cyrnol that the yassels would fear either Qualice or Gyris more than they did him. His plan was simple: he'd commanded his slower moving comrades to herd the yassels inward, forming them into a tight bunch. The straggly and loosely bound conglomeration into which they were now merged had no head, and no tail. It was merely a coagulation of stinking body parts which, to Cyrnol's thinking, moved everywhere and nowhere at once. The cat-beast realised that Qualice's main error lay in his assumption that the yassels had a particular destination in mind. Cyrnol, having witnessed the flight of a wide array of creatures in his time (most of them at his instigation), recognised the patternless panic that drove the crabwalkers.
His usual method in such circumstances involved hyping the panic to a level where his quarry would take flight at the slightest twitch of his muscles; the game being to anticipate the direction of the prey's intended movement. That was for cat games, of course - the stimulating chase that was so highly valued in the feline community. This, though, being rather different, in that Cyrnol had no desire to touch, much less eat, a yassel, it could yet be played the same way. A sense of organisation - of purpose - needed to be instilled in these mindless hermits. Cyrnol felt he was just the one to enhance their directional aptitude.
*
Gyris, looking across to where his small friend was doing his best to appear intimidating, grinned widely. Only a yassel would be frightened of a stalking gnome. And the little yassel, whom they'd returned to the group, persisted in hovering near Qualice, making obvious attempts to imitate him. Qualice was trying so hard to look larger; making grumbling sounds in his throat, and stomping his feet in at attempt to thunder along like a gargoyle. Gyris was pleased that he no longer needed to walk silently, and happy that they now had Cyrnol's brain working on their side. Qualice had proven to have a certain flair for invention, and most definitely a bent for trouble, but subterfuge was not among his gifts.
Gyris also accepted that he personally lacked the qualities needed to salvage this situation. He did not possess even the brainpower, inventiveness, and trouble-making abilities of the gnome. His own bravery, staunch heart, and loyalty would not be enough to return the crabwalkers to their home. Nor would honesty, for Gyris realised at this point that the yassels would never calm down enough to listen to any excuses he and Qualice had to offer.
It all made the gargoyle more than willing to listen to Cyrnol's plan. It was so simple, that even Gyris required only one explanation. They would bunch the yassels together, then give them only one out - in the direction of their former home. Cyrnol had insisted that several repeats of the exercise - bunch-flight, bunch-flight, bunch-flight - would suffice to keep the panicky yassels rounded up, and to steer them close enough to their place of origin to guide them homeward.
Cyrnol took a moment to wash himself, reflecting his deliberate nonchalance. Everything was going according to his plan, as he had known it would. After all, yassels were no different from any of the other multitude of non-felines he had dealt with over the years.
The yassels were bunched, their yammering rising to a crescendo as Cyrnol prepared lazily to stand, to roar the incentive to direct these creatures on the first step of their journey home. His muscles quivered, but he downplayed his excitement. Not for anything would he let either the gnome or the gargoyle know how much he loved this part - when his prey froze, before bolting away in mindless panic.
Cyrnol lifted his face to the skies, the roar filling his lungs, held in his throat in a delightful moment of anticipation. Stretching out his legs, he prepared to rise, when - suddenly - a huge drop of rain plopped down on his upraised nose. Then another - and another. In moments, diminutive puddles in the dirt became muddy rivulets, the grassy expanses became drenched and sodden, and the air became thick with the rancid scent of newly-wetted yassel. The drumming of feet drew Cyrnol's attention away from the discomfort of his own dousing. He turned, to see a stampede of panicked crabwalkers thundering his way. Too late, he stood, releasing the roar that he'd saved for the occasion.
The yassels came on, lost to all reason in their terror, trying to save themselves from the horror of the pelting rain. The first few went around the cat-beast - barely noticing him in their mindless flight - the next over him, and finally, huge numbers tried to plough through him. Cyrnol was bowled over, his ears hammering with the yammering, his body repulsively massaged by hundreds of yassel limbs. Unwillingly, he was incorporated in the massive exodus, as hundreds of witless crabwalkers streamed unthinkingly into and through, the swiftly moving lights of the dimensional gate.
*
David Nickelson felt no particular malice toward Peter Trevick. Discounting him as just so much rubble, to be kicked aside and discarded in what was clearly an uneven fight, he lashed out at the man, anxious to pursue his real quarry. The only sign of emotion in Nickelson's face was the smile that flashed across it, as he considered how much he would enjoy beating this paltry opponent.
The smile suddenly froze, locked in place by a startling insight that bore no relation to his new intuition. The eyes confronting him, whose searing red countered Nickelson's own empty spheres, held an ancient knowledge that spoke to a soul David had sworn he'd never possessed. Something shrivelled inside as he read an intimate knowledge of his own malevolence in the Thing's glare - a malevolence that was only a shadow of the darkness that was staring him down, its burning hatred unchecked by mortal concerns. Flinching, with a fear he rarely acknowledged giving him impetus, Nickelson put new effort into his attack, needing to destroy the one who faced him - the one who had dared to cripple him with a tangible taste of everlasting damnation.
Peter Trevick would never have been able to block the kick that flashed his way. But Jarrod Demascar was no stranger to street fighting, having mastered every dirty trick that his adversaries had used - in many cases adding a sick twist of his own to make it that much dirtier. So, when Nickelson lashed out, Demascar was prepared, diving to one side, then coming upward with a kick that dug into the man's abdomen, leaving him breathless and gagging. Demascar stood up, jerking Nickelson to his feet, prepared to use his last few moments of control in throttling his challenger.
Nickelson, spying a weakness, some shifting in his opponent's expression that depicted uncertainty, didn't know that Demascar's limitations were those of time, rather than prowess. His own skills were honed from frequent use, and he knew better than to hesitate in exploiting a weakness. The man dangling him above the ground had murder on his mind, and Nickelson used that brief moment, when Demascar was fighting more to retain control, than to banish his adversary.
Nickelson shoved a hand in his pocket, clicking the switch-blade into place, feeling it poke against the lining of his pants. Using a right-handed feint to distract the man, he gripped the knife firmly, using his proximity and elevation to force the blade through the pocket, shoving it deep into his adversary's side. Demascar, stunned at the unexpected attack, let down his guard. Nothing could be gained by further challenge, except the destruction of this body he'd fought so hard to procure. Demascar flung David Nickelson away, but it was Peter Trevick who grabbed his side with a groan, to sink face-down onto the broken grass.
David Nickelson got up quickly - hearing the sound of running feet. He didn't have to look to know he was surrounded - the screaming of his senses told him that. He had a terrible foreboding that he was about to die, but he shrank from the knowledge, the realisation still strong in him that death would not mean a peaceful change of circumstance. Life, on the other hand, still held the sweet taste of hope, and he knew only one way to live now. If he could get to the healer, and force her to summon an esquior - that's what she called it - an esquior - then the world would be his. He could pay his way to a new life: he might even find a way to retrieve his soul. I can't die yet! The thought was a silent scream. Not until I salvage my existence -
He needed time. Any way he could get it. One quick movement caught Mari, and he tangled his fingers in the length of her hair - yanking her backwards, into his arms.
Sensing his hate-filled desperation, she flung the nearly unknotted bag high in the air, then shrieked in pain and terror, as Nickelson pulled her down. She watched in horror as Lily's limp form came free of the shirtbag, tumbling end-over-end as she plummeted toward the hard ground. "No!" Mari screamed.
A flash of blinding white made her squint against the glare. At the last moment, just as it seemed nothing could save Lily from impacting on the soil, the white light swept in a low dive, flattening grassheads and sending seed spilling in a fountaining trail behind. Thyme buzzed upward, his arms full of Lily and dried grass, and Mari sobbed with relief.
Her relief was short-lived. David Nickelson swore, and she felt the prick of a knife against her skin. He was twisting her good arm, and her fingers dug into the sharp crystals of the dark-centred crystal Katy had made for her. Mari started fighting back, using the crystal to inflict pain on her attacker, her own power raising welts that burned like wasp stings on his exposed skin.
"Bitch!" he screamed at her, twisting her arm further, until her fingers opened of their own volition, the crystal plummeting to the ground.
He yanked her up, using a merciless grip to effectively lock her flailing arm against her body. Then, holding the knife in front of her eyes, where she couldn't miss it, he awaited her response. The blade was discoloured, red crystals staining the tip. Only one kind of blood coagulated like that, and she closed her eyes with a shudder. Peter! He'd tried to buy her time, but at what cost?! In her own struggle, to free Lily, to put distance between them and this creature, she'd missed the outcome of the battle.
Pinioned as she was, it was nearly impossible to turn her head. Desperately, her eyes shifted, seeking Peter, trying to determine what had happened. Nickelson, guessing her intentions, twisted her around so she could see her friend lying on the ground. "Is this what you want, Bitch?!" he yelled in her ear, and she knew he wanted the others to overhear. "Call the esquiors! Or you're next! Except -" he brought the knife up against her side once more, "- we might just start, a little bit at a time -" The sharp pain made her suck in her breath, and she knew he'd drawn blood. She couldn't see his face, but it sickened her soul, as some instinct told her he was smiling.
*
Thyme thrust Lily into Aristi's arms. "Guard her well-being as you would my own, Father!" Thyme said rapidly in fairy. His wings were already buzzing, his eyes red with fury. Aristi could sense his reluctance to leave, but knew he was compelled by the danger that still threatened.
"Son! Wait!" The urgency in his father's voice startled him, so that he turned rapidly, suddenly frightened that he might be losing Lily after all.
Aristi shook his head. "She will survive, Thyme. But see to Peter. His case is not so certain."
"But Mari is still -"
Aristi interrupted him. "Trevor and Katherine can deal with the man who threatens her." Thyme stared at his father in disbelief. Aristi indicated their trail through the grass, and Thyme looked at him with shocked eyes. "Yes, my Son. Stay with Peter, but if your other friends involve themselves in something they will later regret, move swiftly to interfere." Thyme nodded, darting quickly away, to join Trevor and Katy at Peter's side.
*
"Peter!" Katy's voice was a whisper, multi-coloured tears streaming down her face as she carefully turned him over. "He's still alive, Trev! Thank God!" She used her palm to apply pressure to Peter's wound. Even though his blood clotted quickly, there was still a sluggish stream of it leaking from his side.
Sitting on the ground, she pillowed Peter's head and shoulders in her lap. The fight, and the man's last abrupt movement - stabbing Peter in the side - were etched in her mind. She looked up at Trevor, red dominating the sparkling tints of her eyes. "Go, Trev! Get Mari away from him!" Katy was suddenly sure Trevor wouldn't need her help. But she added, "I'm here if you need me - and I'll be watching."
Trevor nodded. His eyes caught Mari's across the short distance, and his fury - which had been unknowingly spilling out in his worry and fear - seemed to find a place deep in his core, and lodge, as though it belonged. He cocked his head slightly, hearing David Nickelson's threat, then Mari's gasp as the devil snagged her skin.
Whatever was checking his anger snapped, at that small sound from Mari's lips, and his immediate awareness of her pain. "No!" he bellowed. Something white-hot blazed inside him, boiling and frothing, until he felt it pour from his person, in a strong, channelled beam of charged energy.
*
David Nickelson felt his hand begin to shake of its own volition, then twist violently, until his wrist snapped, and the knife was flung to the side. Mari sagged against him - her strength gone - and Nickelson tried to drag her away, terrified of losing this last edge against defeat.
Nickelson, however, never got the chance to act. He'd barely formed the thought, the knife was still dropping to the ground, when he felt a pressure on his person unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He yelled as he was flung back, rolling in backwards somersaults through the grass.
He landed at Trevor's feet. Unwisely, he feigned dizziness, then lunged forward to attack, trying to trip up this one, whom he was certain was the source of his trouble. Missing his target, as Trevor stepped aside, he angled his leg for a kick. It wouldn't be lethal, but Nickelson was certain he could break the mutant's leg.
Trevor looked down at him, almost pityingly. As Nickelson struck out, his movements almost too fast for Trevor to see, the force of his blow was suddenly blocked by a multi-coloured screen of light, effectively shielding Trevor from the impact. Trevor glanced quickly at Katy, before turning back to his determined assailant. Trevor couldn't believe it - the man was going to try it again! This time, his foot froze halfway there, as though glued to its particular patch of sky. Nickelson was yanked up into the air, foot first, to dangle above the ground. His hands swept out, desperately seeking anchorage, grabbing the grass tips to try to pull himself back to earth.
Mari pushed herself up, and Trevor heard her sobbing relief. It triggered a resurgence of his anger, and a new jet of white-hot fury erupted forth. Nickelson's form lifted upward, his arms and legs flailing, a scream of terror issuing from his lips as he was flung across the grass expanse. It promised to be a hard landing, Trevor holding a mental picture of impacting this murderer into the hardpan under the trees.
Thyme's wings issued a deliberately loud buzz at Trevor's side. The fairy's tone was casual, but his words grated against Trevor's concentration. "He's ugly, even for a human, but he'll be easier to look at if his head's intact -" It broke the centre of Trevor's wrath, sheering off the white-hot outpouring of his anger. Trevor nodded, not looking at the fairy, but understanding what Thyme was trying to say. At the last moment, Nickelson's angle of trajectory shifted, flinging him instead into a dried up, but still highly thorny, bramble of blackberries.
The yelp of Nickelson's landing was muffled, in the sudden activation of the dimensional portal. A clicking, chittering gabble drowned out the roaring of the gate, as did the crabwalking scuttering of hundreds of terrified yassels. Trevor, his anger dissipated, couldn't summon up any sign of the awesome power he'd exhibited only moments before. He raced toward Mari, leaping through the tall grass, wanting to get to her before she was trampled by the invading horde.
He picked her up, and carried her over to where Katy sat, with Peter's head still in her lap. Katy's eyes were enormous, her tone fearful. "What are they?" she asked.
Thyme's nose was wrinkled, his expression distasteful. "Yassels," he answered. "They do 'stench' even better than me," he admitted grudgingly.
Paul was inspecting Peter's wound. Trevor asked, "How is he?"
Paul sighed. "If it were anyone else, I'd give you some non-committal, 'time-will-tell' answer. But, your collective recuperative powers never cease to amaze me. The fact that he didn't bleed to death owes something to Katy's quick thinking, and his own remarkable clotting ability."
"Which means?" Trevor sounded impatient.
"And?" This was Mari.
Thyme, snorting at Paul's long-winded assessment, took matters into his own hands. He zapped Paul in the back, making him jerk in surprise. "Get on with it, Bozo!" he ordered.
Paul looked annoyed, but restrained himself. "I know it's a waste of time saying anything about hospitals -" He paused to give a dirty look to the crowd of pursuers who had, somehow, turned into allies. "I think, if I bandage it firmly - and we keep him from moving - then he'll probably heal himself, given a little time. "
The din of yassel feet was making it difficult to hear Paul's voice. Large numbers were still pouring - to Kelwin's eyes - out of nowhere. A quick look around told him the others were feeling equally nervous.
"Shouldn't we get him up to the house?" Katy was worried that the yassels might overrun them.
Paul looked worried - eyeing the yassels' approach, trying to decide. Mari explained, "Paul doesn't know how much internal bleeding there is, Katy. If we haul Peter out of here now, we may make things worse. But, if we wait a while - with Peter's recuperative powers -" She left the sentence unfinished. Katy nodded, the stubborn look appearing on her face.
Mari hid a smile. If Peter shouldn't be moved, then Peter wouldn't be moved - not if Katherine Ryder had anything to say about it. Mari wished she didn't feel so rotten. Otherwise, she'd be tempted to heal Peter and be done with it. Though, she thought, after Trevor's little 'display', I'm going to have to think twice about healing anyone.
Paul spoke up. "If we give him time, he'll heal himself - or Mari may recupe enough to offer him some assistance at it. For now, though, I don't want to take a chance on starting him bleeding again."
"How's Lily?" Thyme was pleased that so many anxious eyes turned in his direction at Mari's question. "In need of Mari's services, but not in danger for the moment," he answered them. Mari looked at him oddly. How could he expect her to heal Lily, after what he'd seen?
"So, what do we do?" This was Vicki, her eyes glued to the swarming yassels, appearing as if by magic through a portal she couldn't see.
"Trevor?" Paul looked at him. "Can you do anything?"
"You mean like my 'look Ma - no hands' act of a few minutes ago?" He shook his head. "Not a chance. I don't even know what I did, let alone how I did it."
"You threw that guy David Nickelson over into the blackberries -"
"Shut up, Kelwin. Any ideas?" Horace looked at the group.
Thyme tilted his head, studying Katy. "This isn't exactly the time for humility, Katherine Ryder. Unless you want Peter, and some of your closest friends, squished under a stampede of stench-ridden pustules -"
She looked back at him, her eyes frightened. "I don't know, Thyme. I keep remembering what happened with Mader. I don't want to kill anything -"
Thyme nodded, keeping his voice even. "The yassels are basically harmless hermits: harmless, because it is their nature - hermits, because no one will have anything to do with them. Some great disaster must have befallen them to make them flee the seclusion of their caves." He frowned. "It would not do to kill them, Katherine. Fight for control."
She nodded, steeling herself for the effort. Seeing that Trevor had his hands full of Mari, Katy beckoned to Jordan, who was lingering, somewhat embarrassed, in the background - indicating that he should support Peter's head. "Thanks, Jordy," she said, giving him a grateful smile, that made him forget all about his near-nudity.
Katy met Mari's eyes for a moment, and gave her a reassuring grin. Then, she said, somewhat sheepishly to the others, "I'll see what I can do -"
Katy moved away from them, to place herself between the oncoming tide of crabwalkers and her friends. Thyme sat on her shoulder, his aura brilliant, shouting encouragement in her ear, over the harsh yabber of the yassels. They were coming terrifyingly close, and the ground vibrated, mimicking the tremor of an endless earthquake.
Katy closed her eyes, as she tried to find that wash of colour deep within - the one that would empower her to block the forward movement of the stampede, and detour it around their huddled group.
It was like trying to pick up soup with chopsticks. Katy could sense it - the feeling she'd experienced when she'd somehow barred David Nickelson's thrusting foot - it was there, wanting only the right motivation to draw it forth. Every time Katy thought she had an emotional grasp on it though, it would slip away once more, to linger teasingly just beyond reach.
"Katherine, open your eyes," Thyme said. Katy, deep in concentration, didn't even hear him.
"Katy, pay attention!" His voice was more insistent.
Katy's annoyance was apparent in her voice. Keeping her eyes stubbornly closed, she told him, "I almost had it - just a minute!"
"Katy! Look out!" Katy's eyes popped open, just as she was swept over by the avalanche of slimy bodies. Thyme was flung in the air, where he hovered anxiously, looking for some sign of her in the ruckus below.
Trevor jumped to his feet, but Paul held him back. Vicki screamed, and Mari looked sick. "Katy!" she whispered.
Suddenly, the leading yassels were flung upward, to roll back across their fellows, as bright flashes of colour erupted into the air. A new panic, at this latest threat to their exposed persons, sent them feverishly scuttling away, to stream unimpeded through the grass, in a desperate flight toward the sheltering canopy of the infected trees.
Thyme flitted down close to Katy's face, to tug at an errant curl, while examining her for damage. "Are they gone?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Like pus from a boil," Thyme said.
She opened her eyes a slit. "Are you insulting me, Fairy?" she asked.
"You're a very pretty boil, Katherine. Are you damaged?"
"Do bruises count?"
"Not much." He smiled at her.
"Oh." She grinned back at him. "Then I must be okay. It's just kind of hard for me to think past the footprints on my person."
Trevor was there a moment later, Horace, Edwin, and Vicki at his side. "Katy? Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Can you give me a hand, Trev?"
He helped her to her feet, but she had trouble getting her balance. "Steady, Katy," Trevor said. Horace put one of her arms over his shoulder, while Trevor took the other side. "Want a lift, Katy?" Trevor asked gently.
"No, Trev. Thanks, but I think it's just aftershock -"
Thyme hovered in her face. "It all comes of not listening to your betters, Katherine Ryder. Next time I tell you to do something, you must do so."
She whispered sweetly back to him, "The next time I see pus, you'll be the first one I think of, Thyme."
Thyme grinned at her, gave her hair another gentle tug, then sped off to see how his Lily was faring in Aristi's concerned care.
*
The comparative silence of the yassels' departure seemed to startle Peter into wakefulness. His eyes popped open, sweeping the group, to seek out Katy, who moved quickly to take Jordan's place. His whispered, "Katy!", urged her to lean down, placing her ear close to his lips, while the others watched anxiously.
"He's on his way out, poor Devil," Kelwin muttered, earning him an elbow in the side from Edwin, and a dirty look from Trevor.
Katy's shoulders started shaking, and Paul got worried. Had he been mistaken about how Peter was doing? "Katy, what's wrong?" he asked quickly.
Katy sat back, her eyes sparkling. She started chuckling, then broke into giggling laughter. When tears of laughter, mixed with relief, started streaming down her face, Paul briefly wondered if she were hysterical. He turned to Mari for enlightenment, to find she was also smiling, while Trevor burst out with a loud guffaw. Annoyed now, Paul said, "All right! What's going on?"
"It's not what's going on now, Paul!" Trevor chuckled. "It's what's going to be happening later!" which met with a new burst of embarrassed laughter from Katy.
Paul, looking down at Peter, saw his hand lying possessively on Katy's leg. Even though his eyes were now closed, he had a big grin on his face.
Vicki couldn't stand the suspense any more. "Please!" she pleaded. "What did he say?" Horace smirked to hide a smile. His own curiosity was killing him, but he hadn't wanted to be the one to ask.
Trevor enfolded Mari closely in his arms, her back against him, so he could nuzzle her hair. He knew she didn't want to keep the others in suspense any longer. Trevor had momentarily forgotten that, no matter how intuitive some of them might be, they lacked the keen hearing of his and Mari's mutated beings.
Mari's eyes lifted to Katy's, silently asking permission. Katy nodded, her smile an echo of Mari's own. Mari, unconsciously caressing the discolouration on Trevor's arm, indicated the similar patterns on Katy's legs. The scoriations from the blue hyphae had marked Katy's and Trevor's skins like intricate tattoos. "Peter just wanted to know -" her voice broke on a chuckle, "- if he follows the map, whether it'll lead him to buried treasure."
Paul looked at Peter's hand lingering on Katy's thigh, and started laughing. "He'll live," he said.
***
Chapter Six
For Jarrod Demascar, the dichotomous existence that split his strength, nevertheless enabled him to externally monitor the scene that had just been played out. He'd been unusually frightened by the near-loss of this body, that he was so close to wholly claiming; the fear instilling a momentary caution. That, combined with the energy expenditures of his battle with Nickelson, made him hesitate. There was nothing to be gained now, from either manifesting himself, or further tormenting his host. He had no desire to arouse suspicion, in these friends who knew Trevick so well, or to further weaken the body he wanted for his own.
When the moment was right - when the healer was once more able to exert her power - that would be the time to make his presence felt. To act as an inducement, perhaps, for her to guide a few more of his own - Demascar's - lingering molecules into this body - to soar in on the colour stream, that would, at the same time, be strengthening Peter Trevick's physical form. When the moment came, Demascar would be ready, and waiting - lying ensheathed over the protective barrier of the mutant's skin.
*
"Don't wrinkle your nose, Peter!" Katy chided softly. "I can't help it!"
"Yeah, Pete," commented Trevor. "It's called, 'Eau de Yassel'."
Peter opened one eye. "Yassel?" he asked.
Trevor grinned at him. "Don't strain your brain. It's the scientific name for 'being that stinks in all directions'."
Peter looked at Mari. He offered a weak grin. "Guess I wasn't much help, huh? You look terrible, Mari."
"Even 'terrible' is one up on you, Peter Trevick," she smiled back.
Peter noticed Jordy's concerned face in the background. "Joining the nudist colony, Jordy?"
Jordan pushed past the others, and reached out to grip Peter's hand. His voice was choked with emotion. "I-I just don't know what to say, Peter. I didn't know things would turn out this way -"
Trevor saw Peter's discomfiture at his friend's emotional display, and gave Jordan a nudge. "Spare the mush, Jordy. Peter got all the sympathy he needed last week, when he was dead. Unfortunately, he came back to life before we could enjoy the wake."
A high-pitched squabble in fairy interrupted them. Thyme and his father were arguing, and Thyme's wings were shooting sparks, his eyes fiery red. He handed Lily carefully, but firmly, into his father's arms, then buzzed away, sparks trailing behind him. At Lily's request, Aristi came to join the humans.
Lily's smile was glowing, even seen through her nearly incessant bouts of shivering. "What was that about?" Trevor asked Aristi. The older fairy looked indignant at Trevor's inquiry.
Lily, however, knew that the human had asked out of concern for Thyme, not merely rude curiosity. "I admitted to Thyme that I had shared Aristi's aura," she finally managed the shuddering response.
"Is that bad?"
Lily shook her head. "Not really, but Thyme would like to think that he is the only one permitted to mingle auras with me."
"He's jealous!" Trevor said, grinning. "Of his father!" Aristi offered a slight smile at that, but said nothing.
Lily defended herself. "It is merely that I needed warmth," she admitted, her words punctuated by another shuddery spasm.
Katy reached over, to lift Lily out of Aristi's arms - holding her close in an effort to warm her. "Men!" she said disgustedly, then absent-mindedly ran her fingers through Peter's hair.
*
Trevor waved a hand in front of his nose. "Jeez, Katy!" he exclaimed. "It's getting worse! Maybe you should leave Peter long enough to rinse off, or something."
A great purple head thrust its way into their circle, and a long, rough cat tongue licked Peter down one side of his face. Peter jumped, then grimaced, as the movement caused new pain in his side. "Cyrnol," Mari warned, "you're going to kill him with kindness."
Trevor pinched his nose, which gave his tones a nasal quality. "So you're the one who stinks," he complained, giving the purple cat a shove.
No one shoves a cat-beast. Cyrnol, therefore, assumed this must be some new show of affection from these odd humans. To match Trevor's gesture, the feline came up behind him, rubbing his head and whiskers over his back, all the while purring loudly.
The stench of yassel, in which Cyrnol was liberally coated, combined with the unpleasant sensation of cat drool. Trevor looked sick, as a streak of saliva ran down his back. "God, that's disgusting!" he complained.
This was no gentle massage. Each time Cyrnol turned, to rub his cheek on Trevor's back, he'd give the human an upward shove. Although Trevor tried to keep himself steady, so he wouldn't hurt Mari, Paul finally helped her to a more comfortable position. "We'll just leave you to your little pet, Trev," he said, smiling.
Thyme's voice was loud in Trevor's ear, adding to his annoyance. "Worse than that, Spit Bottom," the fairy said. "Cats rub something to mark it as their own."
"In that case," Trevor said sourly, "now that you're back, we'll find a way to make Mortimer claim you, Rat Breath. Dogs have a great way of marking things, too."
"Where is Morty?" asked Katy worriedly. "Do you think he got stuck - like the wongnits?" She turned to Paul. "I have to look for him -"
Thyme flew over, to sit on Peter's chest. "No need, Katy." He casually edged in closer to where Lily rested in Katy's arms. "The wongnits are busy destroying your house, and Mortimer is helping them." Thyme let one wing graze Lily's. "He was hiding under the house when I found him -" Alex and Edwin traded embarrassed looks, "but I knew you'd be worried, so I encouraged him to follow Melpis and Deron to a place of safety. I hope you feel reassured," he said, giving her an angelic smile.
"We'll nominate you for saint-hood later, Thyme." Peter said sarcastically. He recalled when sharing the little white house with Katy had seemed the fulfilment of all his dreams. "Did you think of encouraging them to play somewhere else?"
"Of course, Peter. But this way, at least we know where they are."
"And I'm sure we'll be able to tell where they've been." Peter set aside his mental image of wongnits swinging on the drapes.
Katy's giggle brought a smile to his lips. "It's just a house, Peter. We still have us -" The hand that wasn't hugging Lily gripped his.
"They say that each house bears some impression of its former owners. People are going to think we were really 'party animals'." He started laughing, cringing at the pain it caused, but unable to stop.
Katy was torn between relief at seeing him so much like his old self, and fear that he'd start the bleeding again. "Stop it, Peter! You're going to hurt yourself!"
Thyme placed a stern face right in Peter's. "Move again, Subcreature, and I'll give you a reason to twitch!" He shot off a few harmless sparks from his wings, to add emphasis.
Peter took one look at Thyme's face, then started laughing again, remembering how he and Thyme and Trevor had wrestled in the lounge, knocking over furniture. Then, he remembered Katy sitting in the wing-back chair, surrounded by wongnits. Wongnits who, when they thought the humans weren't watching, would leap from door jambs to curtains to mantle and back again. "Oh, yes," he chuckled, "we've made quite an impression on the old place." This set him off again.
Paul interrupted. "As pleased as I am that you're feeling better, if you don't lie still, I'm going to give you something to make you."
Peter's eyes were still dancing. Trevor understood in a way Paul never could: it was the resurgence of energy, and the re-kindling of that all-encompassing sense of well-being, that was fuelling Peter's humour. Only someone who had experienced it could truly appreciate the way it changed your outlook on life. Mari met Trevor's eyes, and he knew she was seeking some topic to distract Peter's thoughts.
Katy spoke up then. "I'm surprised you can laugh, Peter Trevick, when things are still so bad. Those poor yassels may be entangled in all that fungus, and you haven't come up with any plan to control it yet." Her voice was firm, but her eyes were sparkling. Trevor winked at her, but Peter wasn't fooled.
His laughter stilled to a weak grin, as he squeezed Katy's hand. "You've grounded me, Katy-my-love." His eyes twinkled at her. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it, whispering, "- because it's the only part I can reach right now."
"I should have known," Trevor said in a loud aside to Mari, "that fungus would distract his brain."
Peter's natural ebullience had chased out the damned depression that had dogged him before. He made an effort to focus his mind back on the fungus overriding the forest. "Jordy, what's happening with our parasite? Anything new? Thyme! Have the yassels been tangled in the hyphae?"
Edwin stood up, somewhat remorseful. "I was so glad to see the yassels go, that I didn't even think about what was going to happen to them."
"I don't know where they came from -" Horace gave the fairies and cat-beast an uneasy look, "but I suppose we have an obligation to save them."
Vicki smiled at him. "I agree. I just don't see what we can do."
"Send them back where they came from." All eyes looked at Kelwin. He tone was serious. "I mean, they move like a herd of cattle - stampede and all. Maybe we could round them up like a bunch of cows."
Cyrnol grumbled.
Thyme listened, then told them, "It's been attempted. Unsuccessfully."
Kelwin looked surprised. "Are you trying to tell me that the cat spoke to you?" He was momentarily stunned. Then, he said sarcastically, to no one in particular, "What the hell am I talking about? I'm having a conversation with a little winged man, who floats around in a ball of light. And I'm doubting whether he can talk to a leopard?"
The gate was activated, but only the trans-dimensional travellers were aware of it. As Alex saw their heads turn in the direction where the yassels had appeared before, he muttered, almost fearfully, "What now?"
Gyris' rock-like visage suddenly appeared, and Vicki murmured, "My God! What is it?!"
Suddenly, in his shadow, a small form scurried forward to join their group, quailing suddenly at the sight of so many humans. "Gyris! Qualice!" Katy greeted them, emphasising her pleasure at the sight of these friends, to let the others know there was nothing to fear. "What brings you here?"
Cyrnol grumbled again. Thyme broke into raucous laughter. He flew over to sit on Qualice's shoulder. "Good going, you stinking moron!" he said, smiling. "Who'd have thought you had it in you?"
Gyris' hardened face cracked in a smile, as he laid an arm on Qualice's shoulder. Thyme, laughing so hard that the light of his aura quivered, finally managed to explain. "Remember, Katherine, when I said that some major disaster must have affected the yassels, to make them flee in such panic?" He patted Qualice on the head. "Well, I'd like you to meet Major Disaster!"
*
Celios' pride, which had swollen swiftly in his notoriety after the gargoyle's attack, deflated as quickly and as surely as the giant ball of explosive gas that the gargoyle and his gnome slave had dragged into the yassel caves. Celios, like the other yassels, hovered near Fwiznet, in hopes that their leader might have some magical solution to their quandary. For, it seemed, nothing less than magic would do. It was surely magic that had brought them here: a punishment for fleeing their traditional home, and defying gargoyle, gnome, and - unbelievable as it seemed - a great purple cat-beast.
Fwiznet knew he was the focus of all eyes. He had hoped that Celios would be willing to re-assume the role he had held before - for the attention it brought him, if nothing else - but Celios seemed to have diminished in stature since they arrived. And this meant Fwiznet was faced with the role of actually leading his people: something he'd never really had to do. For, Fwiznet had been more of a politician than he'd realised - glorying in his people's contentment and successes, and side-stepping those few failures that had come their way. Living in the caves had, naturally, limited their choices to those which tradition dictated, and which had gone basically unchallenged for more years than Fwiznet could count. And, it had been so many years since Fwiznet had first accepted the non-challenging role of yassel ruler, that he could no longer remember any timidity at assuming his title.
Even the decision to migrate, to plunge frighteningly forth from the birthplace of them all, had been a response to the cries of the yassel majority. It was true that Fwiznet had suggested fleeing, with the idea of removing his people long enough for the intruders to either leave, or decide that such avoidance tactics would make the yassels too difficult to subdue. But, the agreement of his constituents had forced him to put that suggestion into effect - a thing that had been almost too readily stimulated, once the decision gained popularity.
Fwiznet had drifted on his political tide, like a dry-rotted branch falling into a fast-moving stream. He just hoped his people remembered that they had supported his decision at the time. After all, he had said and suggested a lot of things over his years as leader that could have varied interpretations, depending on their popularity. Popularity determined whether his avowals were conveniently forgotten, or boastfully used to buttress his position.
Fwiznet recognised now that a leader should have urged caution: perhaps over-riding a decision which had been hatched from brains (including his own) which held a skewed view of the outside world. How little they truly knew of it, despite the brief forays of a few stalwart individuals into the erratic climate of the land beyond their caves. For many, the decision was that of a baby deciding it was ready to leave its mother's womb - and they were just as prepared to deal with what they found.
*
Paul shook his head, disbelieving. He was re-aligning Mari's shoulder, as well as he could under the circumstances, but his mind was on Jordan's and Peter's conversation behind him.
Trevor remained with the two men, his arms crossed, and was sitting back on his haunches, a firm expression on his face. He was making certain Jordan didn't encourage Peter to do anything foolish, and his attitude was that of a watchful guard-dog. Every once in a while, Peter would flash an annoyed smirk his way, but Trev was not to be deterred. He'd seen Peter "give his all" in a cause before. This time, it might really be his all, and Trevor wasn't about to let that happen.
Mari was watching the expressions crossing her friend's face. "What is it, Paul?" she asked.
"Single-mindedness." He smiled. "I guess maybe you and I are like that about medicine, Mari. It just seems so funny in someone else - and about something as weird as fungus. But, 'to each, his own!', and all that." He lowered his voice. "I'm glad Trevor's on guard, though. Peter's so worried about the spread of the stuff, that I wouldn't put it past him to put his own health second. And even though that guy Jordan's brainy, he's no smarter than Peter when it comes to knowing what's good for him. He'd probably think he was doing Peter a favour by offering him a shoulder to lean on, or something."
"That's why Trevor's there. He knows what Peter's like, especially around people who are -" she hesitated, seeking the correct term, "- 'similarly enthusiastic'. He knows it wouldn't take much for Peter to use any sign of returning strength as a ticket to get back to work."
"How are you feeling, Mari?"
"Better all the time, Paul." It was true. The tingling glow, of almost compulsory joy, was developing once again, somewhere deep inside. Ever since her mutation, that glow had signalled a brimming energy, so integral to the sensory connection that linked her with other living things. It was that linkage, and that joy, which had allowed her and the others to encounter the overwhelming prospect of other dimensions, unknown beings, and the oddity of different natural laws, without a feeling of total estrangement. She wiggled the fingers of her injured arm. "It's not nearly so painful, either."
"Do you want to risk healing yourself?"
Mari's eyes took on a far-off expression, and she sighed. "I just don't know." More bluntly, she said, "It's obvious I'm doing something wrong."
"Not wrong, Mari." Thyme's voice was loud in her ear. "Just overly enthusiastically."
He grinned in her face, and Trevor, looking over, said nastily, "Get out of her face, Maggot Breath, or I'll send you flying! And you won't be using any wings!"
"Some humans are so primitive!" the fairy said loudly. Softly, he added, knowing that Trevor could still hear him, "Do not let him worry you, Mari. He is just in guard-dog mode, like Morty."
Mari thought it was time to interrupt. "From the smile you're wearing, Thyme, I'd guess Lily must be feeling better." Katy - after assuring herself that Peter would be all right during the short time she was gone - had taken Lily up to the house to warm her in a steamy tub. She now had the fairy cosily ensconced on a hot-water bottle, and was tenderly feeding her warm broth.
"But, she is still in need of your help, Mari. As are the others. So, we must determine what is wrong with your methods."
Aristi, not so subtly, turned up then. He bore the healing crystal, and he placed it gently in Mari's palm. He enunciated carefully to Mari, acting as though he were trying to instruct a young, and not very intelligent, child. "Now, Human," he began, sticking out his chest like the know-it-all he was trying to appear. "Begin!" he commanded.
Mari was confused. "Begin what?"
Aristi's patient look disappeared. "Healing, of course!"
"What should I heal?"
Aristi rolled his eyes in a God-give-us-strength attitude. His hands on his hips, his wings buzzing, he snapped, "Anything! Yourself, if you so wish!" Aristi considered he had had a very trying time of it. Now that things appeared less desperate, he was thinking again of an emerald green forest glade, and the effervescent welcome of a spritelike fairy named Nemelia.
Mari tried to concentrate, but all eyes were on her. Before, when she was concerned about the others, she was able to tune out her surroundings. Now, she was too self-conscious to focus on herself anything but embarrassment. "I can't!" she said, frustrated.
Aristi glared at her as though she were being deliberately obtuse, and Paul looked down at his hands, to stop himself from laughing. He'd known it would be hard for Mari to focus on herself anyway, but with the glowering fairy as taskmaster, it would be impossible.
Thyme knew his father's patience was almost at an end. But it would take the knowledge and experience of a fairy like Aristi to find the fault with Mari's healing. His father had studied healing before. Now that he was concentrating on it, he might well find the flaw that was twisting the purity of the energy draw, and contorting it into something different. If Aristi were to leave in a huff, then they would be no better off than before. Therefore, he decided to interfere.
Thyme's aura glowed momentarily bright, then dimmed to a sludgy grey. "Ah, comfort!" he said, relaxing into his Spigot persona. Mari held her nose. Her eyes were watering at the stench.
Trevor, without turning around, scrunched up his face. "Spigot!" he said.
Spigot drifted behind him. "The same!" he said sweetly. "Feels good!" he chortled. "Like when certain subcreatures remove their shoes -"
Peter was starting to laugh. "He's got a point, Trev. Your feet don't smell much better!" He laughed again, then grimaced as it hurt.
Spigot buzzed his face, angry now. Miraculously, he didn't smell. Peter realised this was a courtesy gesture for his diminished condition. The fairy's eyes sparked red. "Damn it, Peter Trevick! I am doing this to promote your health, not kill you! Lie still!" He shoved Peter's forehead back, so his head thumped against the ground, making an audible thunk. Peter groaned. His head now hurt only slightly less than his side.
The fairy zapped the bystanders, starting with Jordan Callaghan. He'd had enough of this creature bothering Peter when he was in need of quiet and healing. Then, sparks flying, he started on Horace. Kelwin got a double dose, while Vicki received a zap in the rear, and a cheeky smile.
"Move it!" he commanded. Edwin was already running, but he couldn't outrun Spigot's wings. "Dance!" The fairy zapped an ankle. "Dance!" he chortled. "It works!" he crowed.
Horace didn't like his dignity assaulted. "Now, see here!" he said angrily.
"See what? This?!" Spig snatched a fairy-sized handful of hair, yanking it from the human's scalp.
Horace realised how thin he was on top already. He needed no additional urging. He took off after Edwin. Vicki, giggling, followed.
Kelwin, smarting from Spigot's attack on both his rear end, and his sunburned nose, swung at him - hoping to send him flying. "You little shit!" he yelled.
"Manners! Manners!" Spigot squealed, dodging. He darted around to the rear, to pull Kelwin's shirt up swiftly over his face - leaving Kelwin's hands sweeping blindly for his obnoxious adversary. While the human was fighting to get his shirt back down, Spigot unfastened his trousers, tugging at them so they flopped around the man's ankles. He yanked down a bit of brightly coloured boxer, and Kelwin froze, in sudden fear.
Spigot, feeling the man's panic, stopped briefly, relishing the moment. Then, he brought his wings to high buzz, and the air snapped with the tiny flares from his nearly invisible wings. Staring appreciatively at the flabby white flesh of Kelwin's exposed bun, he reached out one finger. Trevor could see the sparkle travel along down the fairy's extended arm, and cringed, as his own experiences told him just how much this was going to sting. "Zap!" Spigot said calmly, as the bolt hit the man's derriere with an audible snap.
Kelwin yowled. Fearful of more, in even worse places, he ran, howling, through the grass, pulling on his pants as he went. Spigot followed behind him as he ran, his voice clearly audible to the others, "And it's good for cellulite, too!" he snickered.
Only Alex Westerley, and Paul Gatley, remained of the original human consort. Spigot buzzed Gatley, for principle's sake, but after receiving a cool look, merely left him to his care of Mari. Alex, leaning nervously, but determinedly, against a tree, crossed his arms defiantly. "No." he said to the fairy. Then, clearing his throat, he repeated again, more firmly, "No!"
Spigot threatened again, wings sparking, stench oozing. Alex shook his head, but kept a firm eye on the fairy.
"All right, I'll buy it," Spigot said calmly, crossing his legs, and placing his hands behind his head, much as though he were sitting comfortably in a chair, rather than the air. "Why?"
Alex cleared his throat, relaxing somewhat. "Because you people need a bodyguard -"
Spigot snorted. "Why?"
"Because, as good as you all seem to be at getting out of trouble, you don't seem to have any idea about anticipating it." He spoke rapidly, hoping to impress this small, but obviously intelligent, being. "Mainly, because none of you is conversant with the type of mentality that puts gain above life. I, on the other hand, have worked with people like that for the past five years. I might be able to spare you some effort."
Trevor stepped over to look him in the face. "Why would you do that for us? I mean, if you work for these people, won't it cost you your job?"
Alex looked sheepish. "Coming here probably did that already. But, it was worth it." He grinned. "You've restored my faith in miracles."
"Miracle-schmiracle!" Spigot sputtered. His father rolled his eyes. "Big deal! What I want to know is, what could we possibly have failed to anticipate?"
Alex indicated the blackberry bush, from which David Nickelson had nearly disengaged himself. "Nickelson, for example. I've read his file. He doesn't give up easily. He won't give up now."
"And you saw how we handled him -" Spigot began, forgetting that it was Trevor who'd really "handled" him. "Not much gets past a fairy."
"Yet, Nickelson managed to capture one."
Thyme had momentarily forgotten Lily's capture, and he was temporarily shocked, at a rare loss for words. Trevor, seeing his response, grinned. "There's that," he commented.
Alex nodded. "There's that," he agreed.
*
Kelwin was still rubbing his sore backside when he entered the house. Vicki, Horace, Edwin, and Jordan were all clustered in the centre of the lounge, while Melpis and Deron ignored them, pursuing their wild shenanigans from door frame to curtains and back again. Morty, unable to keep up with them, settled for wild barking and leaping lunges, to grasp a tail or a mouthful of wongnit fur. As he raced around in pursuit, bits of slobbery drool went flying, and the humans looked at him is distaste. His odour was nearly as offensive as the fairy's had been, and the wongnits were rank, as well.
*
"Well," Horace said grumpily, "now what?"
"I say we go home," Kelwin grumbled. "I mean, I know some of you -" he looked pointedly at Vicki and Edwin, "- have visions of saving the world, or at least, our green friends' butts. However," he said, rubbing his own protesting buttock, "they seem to have powerful friends to take care of them."
"And a hell of a lot of problems on their plate right now." Edwin held up his hand, ticking them off. "Half of them are injured. Nickelson still needs to be extricated from his thorn bush, and hauled out of here. Huge numbers of those whatever-they-are are roaming loose, and they apparently feel it's their duty to make them go back to wherever they came from; and, this fungus, or whatever, might be something only they can deal with. I, personally, would like to stay and help."
Horace nodded. "Vicki?"
"I'm for staying. We can deal with Nickelson, if nothing else. Besides," she admitted, listening to Katy's voice singing in the other room, "I haven't had my fill of miracles yet."
*
Katy was crooning softly to Lily, wrapping her in warm towels, teaching her a lullaby that was popular in this world.
"But why would humans sing to their children of breaking limbs, and falling out of trees, Katherine?" the fairy asked, horrified.
Katherine was enjoying this; treating Lily as she never had her baby dolls, which she'd tended to toss aside in the closet. She smiled at Lily's question. "I don't know, but the words have lost their importance over time. Now, it's just something soft and drony to sing a baby to sleep with -"
Lily was still upset. "I think it is a very stupid song, Katy!" Katy could see her point. It must certainly sound stupid to place a baby's cradle in a tree, then glorify its crashing to the ground by singing about it. She changed the subject, but only slightly. "Do you and Thyme want children, Lily?" she asked.
Lily nodded, her voice comfortably drowsy as she replied, "Thyme would be a very strict father, I think. He knows much about naughtiness -" The human's eyes met the fairy's, and the two of them giggled softly. "I think he would strive to keep a child from becoming as naughty as he has been." She smiled, thinking about it. "And you, Katherine? Do you wish to have children?"
Katy nodded, unwilling to say much. She and Peter, Trevor and Mari had discussed this; some of the discussions becoming rather loud and heated. There were so many unknowns to their mutations; too many changes in their bodies. "It wouldn't be fair to the child right now, Lily. Not until we know more." She avoided looking at her small friend's face. "We don't have any idea how long we have to live - let alone how we're going to survive in this world." She shrugged, then waved a hand to indicate the voices coming from the lounge. "Look at this situation, for example! Will they ever leave us alone!" Her tone was frustrated.
Lily's voice was puzzled, but gentle. "What has all that to do with having a young one, Katy?"
Katy attempted a smile. "Humans need to feel somewhat secure, Lily. Their young ones should have a safe home - a chance to grow up without constant danger." Her voice shivered with the tears she was keeping back.
"But, Katherine, you are no longer human." Katy looked at Lily strangely. "And, there are places in my world - or others - where you could live as you wish."
"But, what about the changes in our bodies? And our life expectancy? This mutational change might mean we'll only live a few years -" Katy argued, wanting to bring out all the potential problems she and the others had discussed.
"Katy, you are not the first people to 'mutate', as you call it! Did Peter not tell you of the many who became changelings, in days past?"
Katy nodded. "All that was long ago, wasn't it? I mean, have you met others like us before?"
"No, Katherine, but my world is very large." Here, she paused, thinking. "Unfortunately, the Shimmer's mouth is also very large. Not many may have survived the journey from this portal."
"And the trees only grow here -"
"No, Katherine."
"There are other stands of trees, that admit people through the gates?" Katy sounded excited.
"Oh, yes, Katy! Enough so that we are certain to find others of your kind - who can tell you more about these bodies you now possess."
Katy wrapped a towel more closely around Lily's form. Her eyes glowed with multi-coloured pulses of twinkling light. "In that case, Lily, as soon as all of you are better, and we've restored the yassels to their homes, and escaped our well-meaning -" her eyes indicated the voices coming from the lounge, "- bodyguards, then we can go searching."
"An adventure, Katy?" Lily asked.
"Yes," Katy answered, smiling. "Another one."
*
Jordy stepped away from the window. "They may be the ones who have to help us," he said calmly. He'd helped himself to some clothing from Peter's wardrobe, and was feeling a bit more secure, with everything covered.
"How's that?" Horace asked.
"That fungus -" he began.
Kelwin snorted loudly, interrupting him.
"Shut up, Kelwin," Horace said. "You were saying?"
"That fungus has spread so rapidly that I don't know how we're going to stop it. It eats almost everything in its path. Peter seems to think it comes from the same place that those other creatures do." He regarded them thoughtfully. "It may be that there's some simple solution to it all. That we may be able to use an existing fungicide to eradicate it, or at least control it. But, if not, we'll be really reliant on any existing information on how to combat it. The other thing that occurred to me was the amount of public attention that's bound to be directed this way."
"The fungus. And the yassels!" Vicki sounded stunned. "There'll be no protecting anyone, if that happens. As far as the yassels go, it's simply a matter of time."
"If I don't report the parasite - and damn soon - I'll be responsible for major losses of life and property," Jordan said. "I can't let my concern for Peter overwhelm my sense of responsibility. People's lives are going to be threatened."
The roar of a poorly-mufflered motorcycle interrupted their conversation. Kelwin stepped to the window, saying unnecessarily, "Someone's here."
"She wants to approach the house, but he refuses," Vicki said, joining Kel at the window.
"Uh-oh."
"What?!" Horace was getting impatient. He pushed in at the window to see for himself.
"The man's going to take a look around. If he gets past that mound, and sees the little scene going on down in the trees, we're dead." Kelwin took a few steps toward the doorway, then changed his mind, came back, and opened the window.
*
In the bathroom, Katy had heard the sound of the motorcycle's roar. She froze, worried by the fact that she and Lily were separated from the others. Their well-meaning bodyguards were in the lounge, but Peter and her other trans-dimensional comrades suddenly seemed much too far away. Wrapping Lily warmly, she grabbed the bag of clothing that she'd pulled out for Peter, Trevor, and Mari. With Lily in one hand, and the clothing in the other, she slipped out of the bathroom and down the steps that used to lead to the kitchen.
Breaking into a run, she left the dirt path that marked their frequent walks, arcing away toward the woods; intent on avoiding any chance encounters with the new arrivals.
"Where are we going, Katy?" Lily asked.
"To join Thyme and the others, Lily. I just don't want to lead anyone new in that direction." Just then, Katy's keen ears heard the banging of the old kitchen door. It was like a spur in a horse's side. Somehow, in her last conversation with Lily, Katherine's hope - that there could be a "happily-ever-after" for them - had been restored. Now, all she wanted to do was reach Peter: to tell him what the fairy had said; to share that hope with him.
The intrusion of those well-meaning people into her life marked the arrival of some dark monster of certainty that the attempts to either decimate their numbers, or separate them for study and gain, would prevail if they tried to remain here: in this place, in this world. They'd survived so much together, but, unwisely, she'd allowed herself and Lily to remove to the house - thinking that Nickelson's defeat would make her safe in her own home. But, she realised now, that had been unrealistic. It had never been safe - not since Mader had first arrived, to taint the premises with his particular pattern of evil.
Her fear, awakened by the banging of that old kitchen door, was out of proportion to the situation, and she knew it. But, her terror at the thought of being separated once again from Peter; of her lover, or any of her close friends facing a lifetime of incarceration - innocents exploited in the name of science - made her overly cautious. They'd managed well enough, with the strengths of their intuition, and surprising abilities, but the idea of having to fight for their entire lives, merely to live, was demoralising. Katy was spurred to join the others - she and Lily - then call to the esquiors. Symmerley and Zylon might be willing to bear them to one of the places Lily had spoken of, where they could live in peace. Without well-intentioned intruders. Without the threat that had forced the intruders to pick sides.
Her feet couldn't move as swiftly as her thoughts, and her spine crawled as she sensed someone searching for her. The soft scuffle of a foot on the step decided her. Katy dove into the tall grass.
It was the wrong move. The grass came alive, as Katy cracked heads with a camouflaged yassel. The creature had been belly down, against the ground, legs bent inward like those of a secreted crab. At the flurry of movement, other yassels came to their feet, to dash away in a grassy panic toward the house, sliding under the pilings and out the other side, as the pressure of still more incoming yassels forced the others to extrude out from under the porch, like toothpaste from a generously-squeezed tube.
Katy rubbed the place on her head, where she'd crashed into the yassel. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her, and she drew in her breath sharply, cloaking Lily in the long ringlets of her hair. A fairy light darted into her peripheral vision, and she relaxed a little, turning back to see the green hand that was offering to help her up. "You know how close you were to having Peter come running?" Trevor scolded, a smile softening the words. What he didn't say, but what was still bothering him, was the fact that Peter hadn't sensed Katy's reaction himself - that Trevor had had to tell him something was wrong - an action which had brought a dirty look from Mari, and a zap in the rear from Thyme.
Katy's smile, in the late day sunlight, was bright against the duskiness of her skin. She would have felt foolish explaining to Trev why her relief was so out of proportion to the situation. Peter will understand, she thought. How my fears - that I might lose him - that I might somehow be separated from him - overrode my good sense. Aloud, she said, somewhat sheepishly, "I found the yassels."
"And, from your reaction, Katherine Ryder, the finding was equivalent to most people's, on encountering something like a yassel," Thyme commented. "Have you squished my Lily in your enthusiasm?"
Lily, still wrapped in the warm towel, dug through the layers of terry cloth to release herself. Thyme flew down to help tug away the last layers of soft cloth. Lily emerged - flushed, hair tousled, slightly creased, but with her aura bright. She popped a quick kiss on Thyme's cheek, leaving him nearly as red as she. "How nice of you to call me 'your Lily'," she said softly. "I am fine, Thyme. I could hear, however, the crack of Katy's head against the yassel."
"How's your head, Katy?" Trevor asked.
Katy rubbed it again. "Hard as ever. That poor yassel, though, must be a bit bruised." She looked seriously at the other three. "We have to find a way to get them home," she said earnestly. "The fear I sensed from that poor thing, and those around him, is overwhelming. Every time we inflict some small injury on them, or do something to frighten them more, we cause them untold terror. They're extremely sensitive."
Thyme snorted in disgust. "So are the linings of my nasal passages. That's the best reason I can think of, for sending them away - so they can go back to hiding in a cave somewhere." Lily glared at him, and pulled herself free of his encircling arm.
Trevor saw that sparks were about to erupt, and changed the subject. "C'mon, Katy," he said, giving her a tug. "Peter won't be able to lie still until he sees you're okay." Katy took one last look behind her, at the dust cloud that had been stirred up by yassel movement. Whoever'd been on the stairs had apparently been chased inside by the sea of yassel bodies. At least the crabwalkers hadn't taken to the forest, as she had feared. Katy only hoped that now they'd stay in one place long enough for someone to figure out a way to help them.
Remembering the clothing she carried, she tossed some Trevor's way. "Should make a new man of you, Trev," she said.
He struggled into the pants and shirt as they walked. Then, sniffing, he asked her, "Did you rub this in yassel or something?"
"There's an itty-bitty chance it may have touched that one I clunked heads with."
Trevor thought briefly of his plans regarding Mari. They revolved around holding her in his arms, and testing out the various parts of her anatomy, ostensibly to see what still hurt. "It reeks, Katy!" Trevor complained.
"Hey, look! I didn't have to bring you anything."
"Yeah, but since you did, you could at least have kept it clean. Peter may have a strong stomach for yassel," he said, aware that he was being ungrateful, "but Mari is more fastidious."
"Well, Mr. Big Mouth," Katy said huffily, "clothes don't make the man. To my way of thinking, you could hardly smell worse than you did before!" Katy stomped ahead of Trevor, muttering words of sympathy for Mari, for taking on such an ungrateful lout.
"Well," Trevor said, on hearing her comments, "next time, don't do me any favours, Katherine Ryder!"
Katy was ahead of him, so she didn't see the sparkle of colour that stained the front of his shirt, the suddenness of it shocking Trevor out of his temper. "Next time," she promised, "I'll have the yassel try it on - or, better still -" She'd turned, hands on her hips, face furious, but froze when she saw the bright colours splatted across Trevor's front. Her eyes grew huge. "Did I do that?"
"Nobody else does colour co-ordinates quite like you," Trevor said, deliberately treating it lightly. He sensed how upset she was at her loss of control. "It's okay, Katy. It's just a shirt."
"Yeah, but next time, it could be your skin!" The thought horrified her.
"Think of it this way, Katy," Thyme said, smirking. "In his case, anything would be an improvement."
"That's such an old, stupid joke that it's not even funny!" Trevor said, as he followed Katy down the path.
"Old? Stupid? Oh, if only it were asinine, cretinous, monotonous, and boring, too!" Thyme exclaimed. "Then, you'd be certain to get it!" Chuckling, he drifted down to sit on Katy's shoulder, buzzing Trevor as he passed him on the trail.
***
