Marc Zicree - Angelfire

“That’s one of the things that doesn’t feel right. All this time, I’ve assumed that when we get to the Source, I’ll know it. I’ll hear it, or I’ll sense it in some way. And I thought…”

“What?” prompted Colleen, her eyes tight on his face.

“That when the time came, there’d be something for us to use-some tool or weapon or … knowledge that we don’t have now. Some way to defeat it. We’ve got Enid, but I don’t know how he fits. His music is like a shield, but is it a weapon? And… I’ve always assumed that I’d find it-this weapon-whatever it is. The way I found the sword. I feel as if there’s a piece missing. Something I’m not understanding.”

Colleen shrugged. “Maybe we have the missing piece but we just don’t know it. Or maybe it’s out there, somewhere.” She tilted her head toward the same wall Enid had pointed at moments before. “Or maybe it’s here, inside us. Not just one or another of us, but all of us together. You found the sword, but Goldie led you to it, didn’t he?”

Cal tilted his head and smiled down at her in the fire’s glow. “You say the most amazing things.”

She took a half step back from him. “What? What’d I say that’s so funny?”

“Not funny, profound. You said something … Doc might’ve said, or Mary maybe. That it isn’t just one of us- it’s all of us.” He took back the half step she’d given up. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Colleen. I wouldn’t laugh at you.”

She opened her mouth to respond, sarcasm battling something else in her expression. But before a word could come out, he bent his head and kissed her.

I rolled over onto my back, casting my eyes deep into the darkness of the hayloft. Good. This was the way it was supposed to be, was it not? It was what Colleen had hoped for. Clearly, it was what Cal wanted. It was what I had expected, encouraged.

Then why did I feel no contentment?

Fierce, sudden wind slammed against the barn’s broad flank. The entire structure shuddered as if the earth had bucked beneath it, and the front doors blew in, admitting wind and sleet mixed with rain.

Colleen and Cal were startled into action, while I sat up as if on a spring. They had pushed the doors shut and lifted the oaken latch bar into its iron cradles before I could struggle from my bedroll. Dirt and hay scooted across the floor, pursued by the chill wind that stole beneath the doors and through every seam and crack.

Cal pulled a hand through his wet hair and grimaced. “Looks like it’s going to be a rough night.”

It was.

CAL

When I was thirteen, I broke through the ice on a neighborhood pond and plunged over my head into glacial water. When I got out and Mom sat me down in front of the fire, I felt as if she’d thrown me right into the flames. I was feverish and freezing, my skin burning even as the chill of the pond burrowed deep in my bones.

I felt like that now.

Colleen stood not two feet from me, brushing dust from her hands and jeans. She looked up, caught me watching, and colored.

“Well, I guess we … I’d better turn in,” she said. “I’m sure tomorrow’s gonna be a long, weird day.”

She was right, of course. But sleep wasn’t what I wanted just now; I wanted to talk. To her. I wanted to explore what had just happened. I wanted to kiss her again. But she was headed away from me toward her bedroll.

“Colleen…”

She glanced back at me warily. “Yeah?”

“Do I need to apologize?” I asked, lacking anything better to say.

She colored. “No. You don’t need to apologize, I just… I’m real tired right now. Don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I’m not sure that’s the best time to … you know.”

No, I don’t , was what I wanted to say. Maybe it’s the best time in the world. Our defenses are down. We’re not so careful, so-damned-in-control. But I didn’t say that. I let her go off to her bedroll and moved like an automaton to unroll mine.

That was when I saw something in our peculiar domestic picture that wasn’t right. Colleen and Doc had chosen to bed down in the half-empty haymow; Enid was snoring on a couple of bales laid end to end. The bale next to him was empty. I stared at it for a long five count before I realized that empty spot was where Magritte should have been. Her tether lay loose on the floor. Chill swiped through me.

“Maggie?” I moved instinctively toward the darkest part of the barn, where Goldie had gone. Surely the Source couldn’t have taken her. We would have heard something, felt something.

We did hear something, my argumentative side reminded me-that big wind hitting the barn, the doors slamming wide open. And we didn’t hear much else while that was going on.

“Maggie?” I called again, and behind me Colleen asked, “What’s wrong?”

I was at the head of the row of stalls now. It was black on black back here, except where pale, aqua light seeped from an unseen source to ripple across the ceiling. That could be Magritte; it could just as easily be one of Goldie’s light-globes.

I hesitated, suddenly afraid of interrupting something. I took another step into the gloom, drawing level with the first stall.

“What is it?”

I swung around to find Goldie watching me over the bottom half of the stall’s double door. He was wearing an unmistakable aura of the palest gold.

Caught gaping like a fish, I managed to say, “I just… realized Magritte was gone.” I met his eyes. Behind his veil of wild curls, they were dark and wary.

There was movement behind him. Light shifted as if someone approached with a lantern, and Magritte appeared over the threshold of the stall, her own aura bright, silvery, blinding.

Goldie said, “I’ve got her covered.”

“But the tether-”

“Don’t need it.”

I realized, suddenly, what he meant. Each of them was the center of a radiant halo that extended to touch and mingle with the other, changing hue subtly in the process. I’d noticed it a number of times, but had always assumed that Maggie was creating the phenomenon, that she was reaching out to Goldie. Now I realized that Goldie was generating his own halo.

“A proximity effect?” I looked from one to the other.

“To all intents and purposes, Magritte disappears when she’s close to me.” He smiled wryly. “I’m just plain overwhelming, I guess.”

Magritte snorted delicately.

“When did you realize you could do that?”

His eyes flicked away from mine, as if the subject were embarrassing. “My first day inside the Preserve. But I didn’t realize what it meant until we left the Blue Mounds. I was afraid for her and I … just sort of reached out mentally and shut out the Storm.”

Magritte looked at him with something like adoration in her eyes. “Goldie brought the power of the Mounds with him.”

He returned the look, adoration mingled with something darker. “Yeah, I’m just like one of those glow-in-the-dark things.”

I remembered, then, what he’d said about the Black Tower that bound our dreams together: It’s inside me.

I couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. Could I handle it any better than he did? “I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

“Jumping all over you earlier. It was uncalled for.” “Yeah, well, shit happens.”

He surprised laughter out of me. “What are you-psychic? Doc said that.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Doc’s psychic-I’m psycho. It’s important to keep that straight.” He sobered, meeting my gaze. “I’m going to get through this, Cal. I have to get through this. I don’t know what’s in Chicago, but whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”