The Collected Christopher Connery (21 page)

Gail was dreaming. She didn’t know how she knew. She’d
never been one of those people who could recognize and manipulate her dreams.
Mostly she just hoped she wouldn’t have them. But this was a dream, she was
sure of it. But she still couldn’t wake up.

She was in a dark place. It was cold and there was stone
above and below her.

Tunnels. Subway tunnels?

In the distance, she could just make out a line of dim
magical lights on the wall. She must be close to one of the half-finished
stations. In a display of excessive optimism, they’d all been lit up long
before completion, but not even magic light lasted forever, so a few of the
lamps were flickering, throwing strange shadows across the tracks.

There was something breathing in the darkness. A low
thunderous snort.

The eyeless bull.

Gail had seen a bull up close only once. Every few weeks
in the spring and summer, the large farms outside of New Crossbridge would have
fairs in city squares. People could buy fresh fruit and vegetables on the cheap
and those who could afford the permits and wanted to risk losing them to bad
water could buy animals. Goats and chickens were the most popular, but there were
pets as well, puppies and kittens and even a few rabbits. The farmers rarely
brought large animals, maybe a docile old pony for the children to pet or a fat
pig for them to giggle at, but that was all.

But one week, they’d brought the bull. Gail had been
eight or so. Mom had been dead for about a year, but Dad was still alive. In
her memories, he looked a bit worn and gray even then, but she didn’t know if
that was how he had really looked or if her memories were just conforming to
what she found out later.

She hadn’t been thinking about Dad that afternoon,
though. She had been thinking about the bull. It had been raining that day,
just a light drizzle, hardly enough to dampen Gail’s hair when she took off her
hat. She hated the hat because it made her head itch. It became a game to see
how long she could go without Dad noticing and making her put it back on.

But she forgot all about the rain or the hat when she saw
the bull. It couldn’t actually have been more than four feet tall, but to Gail
it looked six feet, eight feet, ten feet – there seemed to be no end to it. Its
horns curved like blades. The hastily erected wooden paddock seemed horribly
insubstantial. She felt certain that if it wanted, the bull could knock it down
with one touch of those wicked horns. Hell, with one
breath.           

Of course it didn’t do anything of the kind. It didn’t
even move; it just stared disinterestedly at the crowd through big melancholy
brown eyes. Later, Gail would think back on the creature with pity. He probably
just wanted to get back to his magically-shielded field and away from the loud,
dreary city.

That evening, she had even told her Dad that she wanted
to take the poor thing home and give him a blanket. That had made Dad laugh.

But this bull was different. Gail couldn’t see it, but
she could feel it there in the blackness, feel its hot snorting breath and hear
its giant hooves striking against the metal. Its horns were long and sharp and
stained with something dark. Its bellows shook the stone, its footsteps struck
sparks.

Gail was moving forward, but slowly, too slowly. The bull
was coming on like thunder, like a storm shaking the roof from a tin hovel,
crushing the young, the old, and the weak beneath its hooves.

There was someone else in the tunnel. Gail could only see
her from the back, but there was no mistaking that mass of curly hair and that
quick careful stride.

Nia. Nia, look behind you.

But Nia didn’t turn. She was walking along the track,
head moving from left to right as though she was searching for something. Once
she bent and felt across the track with her hand. Gail didn’t understand how
she couldn’t hear the bull coming. Its pounding steps seemed to shake the
world.

Nia straightened up, wiping her hands together as she
continued on at the same slow pace.

The bull came on.

Nia reached the small pool of light thrown on to the
tracks by the station lights. She took a moment to read the name painted on the
wall in what had once been a bright cheery blue but which had faded to a sad
cracked gray: FERRIS STREET. Gail knew where that station was even without the
map in front of her. Ferris Street was the station meant to cater to the
students at New Crossbridge’s biggest university. It was a favorite hiding
place for the younger sect of delinquents.

The bull bellowed. The foundation of the tunnels seemed
to tremble.

Climb on the platform, Nia,
Gail thought
desperately. The bull’s horns were long and cruel, its hooves crueler, but it
was too heavy to drag itself onto the platform. If she got up there, she would
be safe.

For a moment, Nia’s head turned toward the approaching
bull. Her brow furrowed and Gail felt a spark of hope, but then she shrugged,
running her hand briefly along the edge of the platform before continuing to
walk.

She can’t hear it,
Gail realized,
not yet, and
by the time she does…
Nia was quick and stronger than she looked, but if
she went much farther, she wouldn’t be able to make it back to the platform in
time. When the bull came…

When the bull came, Nia would turn again. Her gold-brown
eyes would flash wide and fill with fear. She try to reach safety, but her feet
would catch on the track or her hands would slip on the platform’s rough edge.
Then the bull would come.

Damn it, Nia, listen! Listen! Get away, Nia, damn it!

She wouldn’t, though. Gail knew that as surely as she
knew the bull was coming. Nia wouldn’t hear until it was too late, she wouldn’t
–

Nia stopped, just a few steps past the station. She
looked over her shoulder again, intent but perplexed, like she was hearing
something she didn’t understand.

Damn it, Nia,
Gail thought, desperation pounding
through her.
You have to hear it, you have to.

Nia took a few steps back toward the station, but she was
still too far from the platform’s edge, much too far.
Damn it, Nia…

The bull came on.

Something changed in Nia’s face. Her eyes widened and her
entire body seemed to pull back, though she hadn’t moved a step.

She heard it.

Many people would have automatically fled in the other
direction, away from the heat and terrible noise of the charging bull, but
Nia’s instincts were sharper than that. She leapt toward the platform, placed
her hands flat on the edge, and pushed herself up.

The bull was coming faster now, as if it could feel her
pulling away.

Nia tried to swing her leg up on to the edge, but her
knee slipped. Gail heard her stocking tear, heard her gasp as the stone scraped
her leg from shin to kneecap.

The bull came on.

Damn it, Nia, damn it.
Gail was sure she would see
the bull’s horn rip Nia from the platform edge and crush her underneath its
hooves. There would be nothing left by the time it moved on but blood and
broken bones twisted in a pretty green dress.

Damn it, Nia.

The bull came on.

Nia dragged herself up again. Her fingers dug into the
concrete. Her belly scraped along the edge. The bull came on. Her knee slipped
again, then held on the edge. The bull came on. She threw herself forward,
landed on her front, one leg still dangling in the emptiness. The bull came on.
Its horns slashed the air, to hook her knee and drag her down. Nia rolled to
her side. The bull passed by, bellowing its rage.

Nia lay curled up like a child, gasping and shaking.
Gail’s own heart felt like it had been turned inside out by terror and relief.
Damn
it, Nia.

Then slowly, like a rat poking its head from its den
after the cat has passed on, Nia unfolded herself until she was sitting on one
hip. One hand was braced against the concrete, the other pressed to her
breastbone. She gazed around, as though she feared the bull might creep up on
her from behind.

Don’t worry, Nia, you’ll hear it coming. Just stay off
the damn –

“Detective?” she whispered.

Gail woke cursing on the hotel floor just as Arthur,
Xavier, and a bellboy opened the door.

For a long time – later she wouldn’t be able to guess how
long – Nia sat on the floor of the Ferris Street station, trying not to burst
into tears. She knew it had been a risk to walk on the tracks, but the trains
were
dead.
She had seen a few of them when she had first entered the tunnels.
They had been hollowed out, rusted shells, hardly fit to shelter rats.

Of course she had considered the possibility that a few
trains would still be functional, but she hadn’t known they would be so
fast.
She had imagined the water damage would leave them slow and lurching, able
to be heard long before they reached her. The stations in this area weren’t far
apart; she would have plenty of time to run to safety, but she wouldn’t have to
because the trains were dead, dead, dead…

She buried her face in her hands, letting out a small
choked sob. It wasn’t the first time she had been moments from death. If she
were honest, it wasn’t the first time she had been moments from death that
week, but something about that horror of sparks and metal bearing down on her.
Something about knowing that it would shred her, crush her, and leave almost
nothing behind… She shuddered and gripped her arms tightly, trying to hold
herself together both inside and out.

And it would have happened. She would have walked too far
and the train would have run her down, except… Except that she had heard Gail’s
voice. Not heard perhaps, not properly, but she knew Gail had spoken to her,
warned her about the approaching train.

But
how?

She had no answer.

The trembling was subsiding a little, so she climbed to
her feet. She was grateful for the thick leather strap of her handbag. It had
remained hooked over her arm during the hectic climb and all of her supplies
were still safe in her bag. To calm herself, she pulled out a piece of chalk
and drew a circle on the concrete. She took out the bag of Connery’s hair and
sprinkled two strands in the center of the circle.

She triggered the spell and waited for the tie between
her and the distant piece of Connery to form. She had been following the trail
for almost three hours. Before the train had nearly run her down, she had been
so close that she thought she must be nearly tripping over him, but now he was
moving away once more. Well, now she knew for certain how Connery was moving.

But what could she do? Walking the tracks was clearly out
of the question. There were spells she could cast to help her be more aware of
the train’s location, but they weren’t foolproof and even if they were, there
was still every chance that the train would catch up to her between stations.
What she needed was help. She needed the help she had asked the Academy for,
but they wouldn’t give it to her.

She knew there was only one answer. Give up. Find a way
back to the street, return to the hotel, and send another message to the
Academy, saying “send Illuminator Dani. I wish her luck.” Then she could go
home. She would return in disgrace, of course. No one would say so out loud,
but everyone would know. She would remain an Illuminator, but would never
become a member of the Directors, never again be given an assignment more
important than supervising a waterproofing. She would be gently encouraged to
spend more time on her research.

She would be retired by thirty, forgotten by thirty-six.
The last word in the Graves’ legacy would be her mother’s mistake.

Sitting back on the cold concrete, she hid her face in
her arms. She couldn’t go on. She couldn’t go back. All she could do was sit in
a weak pool of light and wish she weren’t so alone.

Deep in the tunnels, the train roared and pounded along a
lonely stretch of dark track.

When Gail came to, she was being lifted off of the floor.
Instinctively, she swung her arm out and felt it connect with a hard jaw. Her
aim was off and she only made contact with her forearm and not her elbow, but
the person holding her grunted and nearly dropped her. Someone else cursed and
grabbed for her flailing arm. That was about when she realized what was going
on.

“I’m fine,” she managed, though her tongue felt thick and
clumsy. “Put me down.”

“You don’t look fine,” Arthur said, but released her arm.

Xavier was a little more reluctant, but he wasn’t willing
to actually restrain her, so it didn’t take much for Gail to pull free and
stagger to her feet.

“Shit,” she hissed, pressing one hand to her head.

The bellboy standing by the door apparently figured
Xavier and Arthur had things under control and backed out of the room. Maybe he
took Gail for a belligerent drunk and was happy to have someone else handle
her. It didn’t matter. There were more important questions to deal with, such
as, “What the hell are you two doing in my room?”

Arthur and Xavier looked at each other.

“We came to check on you,” Xavier said at last. “You said
you were gonna meet us at one. It’s two now.”

“Two o’clock?” Giving into her swimming head, Gail sat
down on the floor and leaned back against the bed. “I was out that long?”

“So you did faint?” Arthur asked, suddenly all doc as he
knelt beside her and tested her temperature with the back of his hand and felt
for the pulse in her neck. “Did you hit your head?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just – don’t feel so hot.” 

Gail didn’t like the guilty way Arthur’s mouth twisted.
It was a look that said,
I was worried this might happen.
But before
Gail could politely inquire why the fuck he was directing that look at her, his
attention was distracted by the papers strewn across the floor.

“What happened here?”

“I –” Gail glanced at Xavier, who had bent to collect the
papers closest to him. “I must have dropped them when I fell. Don’t worry about
it, Xavier. It’s nothing important.” The last thing she wanted was to drag
Xavier into this insanity, especially not right before he was due to head home.

Arthur gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Not important? Don’t
worry about it? You looked like you were having a seizure –” He shut up when
Gail jerked her head in Xavier’s direction and mouthed,
Later.

Hoping to distract Xavier from the papers – and any other
mad messages she had scribbled on them while off her head – Gail said, “I hope
I didn’t hit you too hard.”

Setting the papers on the table, Xavier smiled as he
rubbed his jaw. “I’ll probably have a bruise, but considering how hard you can
hit, I’m lucky it’s not broken.”

Going over to Xavier, Arthur touched the sore spot
himself and shook his head with a scowl. “You should put ice on it.”

“I’ll do it when I get home. I’ll miss my trolley if I
don’t hurry.”

“If you’re not careful, it will swell up like an egg.” Suddenly
noticing that he still had his hand pressed against Xavier’s face, Arthur
snatched it back and turned away.

Normally Gail wouldn’t have been able to resist giving
him a little good-natured hell for that, but her head hurt too damn much and
she needed to talk to Arthur alone about whatever was going on. “You better get
going, Xavier. I don’t want you to miss your trolley.”

He looked at her, face creased with concern. “Are you
sure? I don’t want to leave you if you’re not feeling well.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got doc here and if anything gets too
bad, Illuminator Graves can always fix me. It’s one of the benefits of working
with a magician.”

That guilty look shadowed Arthur’s face again. It took
all the self-control Gail possessed not to grab his shirt and demand he explain
himself right fucking then. Instead, she made herself smile. “Go on, Rivers.
The kids will be waiting for you.”

“I told you, school’s out for the season.” But he still
picked up his suitcase.

And Gail knew why. “But you know some of them will still
come by.”

“Yeah.” Xavier looked at the door again, jaw working.
“You’ll send me a note when you can, to let me know you’re all right?”

“Will do.”

But Xavier still lingered and though Gail truly
appreciated his concern, the strain of smiling made her head feel like it was
going to split at the seams. “Tell you what? When I’ve got this case closed,
I’ll stop by your place. Maybe I’ll even give that lecture you’re always
badgering me about.”

Xavier’s face lit up. “Really? The kids would love it. They’re
always asking me –”

“Yeah, I’ll do it, Xavier, promise.” Gail knew her words
were coming out too sharp, but her head just hurt so goddamn much. “But if you
don’t hurry, you’ll be walking home.”

“Right.” The smile had faded a bit. “Okay, I’ll see you
soon then.”

Guilt briefly overwhelmed pain. “Thanks, Xavier,” she
said as he opened the door. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Make up what?” But the knowing smile on his face told
her he understood and didn’t hold the secrecy against her. Good old Xavier. He nodded
to Arthur. “You and your sister are welcome to visit too, if you ever want. I’d
be happy to have you.”

“I –” was all Arthur managed to get out before Xavier had
closed the door, hurrying off to catch the last trolley to Westbridge. When he
was gone, Gail covered her eyes with her hands and dropped her head back
against the bed. Shit, what the hell was wrong with her? It was like her brain
was full of warring creatures with sharp teeth.

Arthur knelt beside her again, eyes dark with worry.
“Something’s wrong.”

Gail nodded, and though she really didn’t want to think
about it, she tilted her hand toward him. The words were still there on her
skin, clear as a tattoo.
THE EYELESS BULL SEES HER.

Arthur studied the phrase for a moment, then looked up at
her. “Explain please.”

Gail tried. She told him about the awful headache and the
way her hand had written without her consent. She showed him the other message
she had written across her notes. Then she tried to tell him about the dream.
It wasn’t the best description – Gail had never been much of a story-teller –
but she made sure to cover all the important bits: Nia, the bull, and the way
Nia had said, “Detective?” as if she had somehow known Gail was there.

Arthur grew paler and paler throughout the story. When
she reached the part about Nia desperately scrambling for safety, he seemed to
cease to breathe only to let out a deep sigh of relief when Gail described her
escape.

“She made it?” he said, voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah, but that was when she –” At once, everything came
together, the bizarre writing, the setting of the dream, the way Nia had spoken
to her, Arthur’s fear. “Wait, wait, wait, do you mean – it can’t – what I
dreamed actually fucking happened?”

“I – I think so. Yes.” Arthur seemed suddenly fascinated
by the carpet.

Well, shit. Of all the weird things that had happened to
her during this case, this was definitely the fucking weirdest. “What’s the
prognosis, doc? I thought I was just going bats, but it sounds like something
else is going on.” She paused as another revelation hit her upside her aching
head. “Wait, so that means Nia went down into the subway tunnels without us.
Goddamn it, I knew something was weird with her this morning. She lied to us.”

“Yes.” Arthur looked up and Gail was shocked to see tears
standing in his eyes. “And you saved her life. Thank you.”

“Well, if she hadn’t been doing something fucking stupid
then I wouldn’t have had to – wait a second, why the hell are we still sitting
here?” She shoved herself to her feet and tried to drag Arthur up with her.

“What do you mean?” Arthur said, wiping his eyes with his
free hand.

“I know where she is, or where she was anyway. We’d
better find her before she decides to tangle with the bull – I mean the train
–”
Train, of course it had been a train. How had she not known it was a
train? –
“again.” Letting Arthur finish standing on his own, Gail hurried
across the room, ignoring her throbbing temples. She gathered up her papers,
stuffed them back into the folder, and stuffed the folder into her bag. She
didn’t know whether any of it would help, but she wasn’t going into those
tunnels without every weapon she had.

“You know where she is?” Arthur asked as he hurried to
the door.

“I know where she was, which is better than nothing.”

“All right, I’ll meet you outside the lobby with the car
in two minutes.” He paused with his hand on the door, looking over his shoulder
with another of those guilty looks. “But – Gail, before we go, I should explain
–”

“Trust me, I have plenty of questions for you. I’ll ask
them in the car. Two minutes.”

Arthur nodded sharply. “Two minutes.” And he was gone.

Gail yanked on her coat and pulled the strap of her bag
over her shoulder. She made sure her gun was loaded before tucking it securely
into her holster. Sure, if it came down to gun versus train, she’d have to bet
on the train, but there might be other nastiness down there more vulnerable to
bullets.

Less than two minutes later, she was hurrying down the
stairs and out the door. As soon as Arthur pulled up to the curb, she slid into
the car and slammed the door. Her headache was intensifying again, but she
gritted her teeth against the pain.

Whatever the hell was wrong with her would have to wait.