Terry Brooks - Angel Fire East

John Ross and Nest Freemark had been much stronger and more daring than he had anticipated. He could not believe they'd had the temerity to come for him, much less the courage to attack in spite of such formidable odds. It wasn't the loss of Twitch and Penny and most probably the ur'droch that bothered him. They had all been expendable from the beginning. It was his loss of control over the situation. It was the effrontery Ross and Nest Freemark had displayed in attacking him when he had believed them so thoroughly under his thumb. He prided himself on being careful and thorough, on never getting surprised, and the night's events had knocked his smoothly spinning world right out of its orbit.

His seamed face tightened. There was no help for it now. The best he could do was to set things right again. He would have to make certain that Nest Freemark, if she was still alive, did not stay that way. Then he would have to find the gypsy morph and, at the very least, put an end to any possibility that its magic might one day serve the Word.

When he reached the top of the basement stairs, he paused. It was brightly lit below, but devoid of movement and sound. Whatever was down there that was still alive was keeping very quiet. Then he heard someone stirring, heard a child's voice, and knew they had not escaped him. Footsteps approached the stairwell, and he moved swiftly back into the shadows. When he saw Nest Freemark at the bottom of the stairs, he backed into the hall. Where to deal with her? She would attempt to slip out the back, of course, bringing the children with her. It was the children she would think of first, not Ross. It was the children she had come to save, surmising correctly that waiting to make any kind of trade for the morph would get them all killed.

She was intelligent and resourceful. It was too bad she wasn't more her father's daughter. In all the years he had worked in the service of the Void, he had never come across anyone like her.

He sighed wearily. He would wait for her outside, he decided, where he would put an end to her for good.

When she emerged onto the back porch, he was standing in the shadows by the hedgerow across the way. He could see her clearly in the light of the flames. She carried the little girl in her arms, and the sylvan rode her shoulder. There was no sign of the boy.

When she came down the porch stairs, he stepped out to confront her.

"Miss Freemark!" he called out sharply, bringing her head around. "Don't be so quick to leave! You still have something that belongs to me!"

She stopped at the bottom of the steps and stared at him wordlessly. She didn't panic. She didn't turn back or try to move away. She just stood there, holding her ground.

"We're finished, you and I, Miss Freemark," he said, coming forward a few steps, closing the distance between them. "The game is over. There's no one left but us." He paused. "You did destroy the ur'droch, didn't you?"

Her nod of acquiescence was barely discernible. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. "Congratulations," he offered. "I wouldn't have thought it possible. The ur'droch was virtually indestructible. So that accounts for everyone, doesn't it? Mr. Ross disposed of Twitch and Penny, and they disposed of Mr. Ross and the deputy sheriff. That leaves just us."

To her credit, she didn't react visibly to his words. She just stood there, silent and watchful. He didn't like it that she was so unmoved, so calm. She was made of fire and raw emotion, and she should be responding more strongly than this.

"Think how much simpler it would have been if you'd listened that first day when I asked for your help." He sighed. "You were so stubborn, and it has cost you so much. Now here we are, right back where we started. Let's try it again, shall we, one last time? Give me what I want. Give me the gypsy morph so that I can be out of your life forever!"

The faintest of smiles crossed her lips. "Here's a piece of irony for you, Mr. Gask. You've had what you wanted all night, and you didn't realize it. It's been right under your nose. Little John was the gypsy morph. That boy was what you were looking for. In his last transformation before coming here, that's what he became. How about that, Mr. Gask?"

Findo Gask quit smiling. "You're lying, Miss Freemark."

She shook her head. "You know I'm not. You can tell. Demons recognize lies better than most; it's what they know best. No, Mr. Gask, you had the morph. That was one of the reasons John and I came here tonight—because we didn't have it to trade for the children and had no other way to get them back."

She shifted the little girl in her arms. The child's head was buried in her shoulder. "Anyway, he's lost to both of us now. Another piece of irony for you. You notice I don't have him with me? Well, guess what? He ran out of time. His magic broke apart down there in the basement. He disappeared. Poof! So it really is just you and me, after all."

Findo Gask studied her carefully, searching her face, her eyes, sifting through the echoes of her words in his mind. Was she lying to him? He didn't think so. But if the morph had self-destructed, wouldn't he have sensed it? No, he answered himself, magic was flying everywhere in that house, and he wouldn't have been able to separate the sources or types.

"Look in my eyes, Mr. Gask," she urged quietly. "What do you see?"

What he saw was that she was telling the truth. That the morph had been the boy all along, and now the boy was gone. That the magic had broken apart one final time. That it was beyond his reach. That was what he saw.

He felt a burning in his throat. "You have been a considerable source of irritation to me, Miss Freemark," he said softly. "Maybe it is time for you to accept the consequences of your foolish behavior."

"So now you want to kill me, too," she said. "Which was your plan all along anyway, wasn't it?"

"You knew as much. Isn't that another reason why you came here instead of waiting on my call?"

He took a step toward her.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you, Mr. Gask," she said sharply. "I can protect myself better than most."

She glanced to her right, and Gask followed her gaze automatically. The big ghost wolf the ur'droch had encountered at her home the night before stood watching him from the shadows, head lowered, muzzle drawn back, body tensed.

Gask studied it a moment, surprised that it was still alive, that it hadn't been forced to exchange its own life for that of the ur'droch. He had thought the ur'droch a match for anything. Well, you never knew.

"I don't think your friend is strong enough to stop me," be said to Nest Freemark, keeping his eyes fixed on the beast.

"I've lost a lot in the past few days, Mr. Gask," she replied. "This child in my arms is one of the few things I have left. I promised her mother I would look after her. If you intend to keep that from happening, you're going to have to do it the hard way."

Gask continued to measure the ghost wolf. He did not care for what he saw. This creature had been created by a very powerful demon magic that had been strengthened at least once since. It was not hampered by the rules that governed the servants of the Word. It would fight him as a demon would fight him. Most likely it had already destroyed the ur'droch. Findo Gask was stronger and smarter than his late companion, but he was not indestructible. He might prevail in a battle with this creature, but at what cost?

In the distance, the wail of fire engines rose out of the silence. Lights had come on in the surrounding homes. On the street, a cluster of people had begun to gather.

He let the tension drain from his body. It was time to let go of this business, time to move on. He could not afford to let personal feelings interfere with his work. There would be other days and more important battles to fight.