The Master (18 page)

“It's a furry imp. Goblins use them as gargoyle food,” Zee said, reaching down and lifting the halfreptilian rodent out. “I didn't know they lived in the desert.”

“I didn't know they lived in
cars,
” Nick muttered. “How'd he do all this so quickly? He's torn out every piece of wiring. Look! He has some caught in his teeth.”

“What?” Zee asked, cuddling the rodent under her chin.

“I said, how did he do this so quickly? He must have jumped in the moment the car stopped.” Nick was still in shock at the sight of the nest, and not at all certain that Zee should be handling a wild animal, even if it was sort of cute and at the moment very passive. The little beast had, after all, chewed straight threw thick metal wires.

“Can we eat it?”

“Can we keep it?” Both questions were simultaneous, Hansel being in favor of putting the rodent on the menu.

“No!” Nick said, visions of driving through the rest of Nevada with the lizard-rodent in tow.

“No, what?” Hansel asked.

“No, you can't eat it—it might have parasites,” Nick added. “And no, we can't keep it.” He added desperately, “They get car-sick.”

“But he looks cold and exhausted. He probably climbed into the car to get warm,” Zee said, cuddling the giant rodent closer. It looked at Nick with enormous brown eyes, and seemed to smirk.

“He should be exhausted, trashing the car like that.”

“I don't think he's supposed to be here,” Zee said, ignoring Nick's complaint. “Don't they hibernate in the winter? Maybe something dangerous scared him out of his den. You may not have noticed, but all the animals in the area have disappeared. That could happen if a gargoyle were hunting in the region.”

Gargoyles? Nick shook his head. He wasn't going to think about gargoyles.

“Zee, we can't . . . He might have ticks. . . .” Nick trailed off. He could easily resist the beseeching look in the imp's eyes—Nick wasn't deceived; if he had been the one to pick the beast up, he'd be missing fingers—but he wasn't able to resist the plea in Zee's. Apparently she needed the comfort of a small warm body, even if it came in a weird package of fur and scales.

“Please?” she coaxed softly. “He won't be any trouble. I'll keep him in my lap.”

“Please,” echoed Gretel. “Miss Bear wants him, too. She said she'd share her clothes with him.”

Nick caved. Zee probably could ask to beat his head in with a two-by-four and he'd agree. And Gretel was still being way too quiet, clutching her teddy bear and looking wan. He'd rather get the children a puppy or kitten—or hell, an iguana—but this furry imp would have to do for now.

“Okay, we can try. But if he gets sick or aggressive—”

“Thank you, Nick,” Zee said softly. “I'm sure he'll be fine.”

“I've never had a furry imp before,” Gretel said softly. “Except in stew.”

“Neither have I, honey. My home kind of ran toward canines and parakeets,” Nick answered. Shaking his head, he turned back to the Jag's shredded wiring and sighed. “Well, damn. Let's hope that Triple-A can get a truck out here soon. Your new pet has done a real number on my car. And I bet insurance won't cover it. It's probably excluded under the Acts of a Malevolent God clause.” Nick glared at the rodent and added to Zee in a lowered voice, “And we're going to have to hide that goblin before the tow-truck gets here, and sweep up the glass. Hell's bells—how can we explain this mess? It looks like a war happened. They're going to think we're Bonnie and Clyde and call the police.”

It only then occurred to Nick that calling the police had never crossed his mind—probably because he couldn't bring himself to think of what had happened as homicide, any more than he could think of shooting a rabid animal as murder. Perhaps if he'd seen a human body, like that of the gas station attendant. But no one was around. Perhaps the place was closed for the holidays. Nick prayed that was the case, and that the goblin hadn't killed anyone while setting up this ambush.

“He must have been really hungry to eat those wires,” Hansel said, also ignoring Nick's warnings not to pet the animal. He didn't seem too disappointed that he wouldn't be having the rodent for lunch, and the imp, apparently ready for détente, was willing to let bygones by bygone. Or perhaps it just liked getting stroked on its furry white belly.

Nick shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. He was annoyed but not surprised when he couldn't get a signal.

“Universal coverage—ha!” he muttered.

“I bet he loves dog cookies,” Gretel said happily.

“Sure, why not?” Nick muttered. “Everyone else seems to.”

“Get one out of the bag in the car,” Zee instructed. “And my cape. We need to be sure that he's warm.”

Nick walked a few feet away from the rodent fan club and then a few more, then tried to gain some altitude by climbing into the lower branches of an old oak tree that squatted near the south wall of the station. It did no good; he couldn't get a signal. Nick wasn't a man given to vulgarity—especially not in front of children—but he had some unpleasant things to say inside the station. He hoped the ghost could hear him.

This is all your fault, you know. I was going to go home for Christmas—eat some turkey. Watch some football. Sleep. Instead, I'm stuck here killing goblins and giving safe haven to vicious rodents.

You're having fun—admit it, the ghost responded. Anyway, I don't think it's far to Cadalach now. Head west. See that mountain peak that looks a bit like a castle? I think that might be part of a faerie mound. If nothing else, there will be caves where you can take shelter for the night.

Those mountains over there? That's miles away.

Yes.

Shit.

I wouldn't recommend it. The kids have already seen enough for one day.
The ghost laughed.

Oh shut up.

Nick turned around on his branch and began his descent, being careful not to get the shotgun caught in the tree. He called out, “Well, gang, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, thanks to the clear desert air, we can see the faerie mound from here.” He didn't have time to say any more because there was a small explosion and a flurry of darts flew at them from a manzanita grove about seventy feet from the car. They shredded the leaves around him, and one struck him in the cheek.

“What the hell?” He dropped to the ground and brushed the stinger away as he ducked behind a giant tree trunk. The dart was no larger than a bee or something a fly fisherman would use, something that might have come from a blowgun, but it hurt enormously, more than it should.

Nick felt blood trickle down his cheek and he swore, this time out loud.

“Son of a bitch—I've had it! Come out and fight, you cowardly sons of bitches!” Without thinking, he pulled the shotgun up to his shoulder and rushed for the stand of manzanitas where the darts had originated. The scream coming from his mouth was an ululation worthy of a Scottish bagpipe, and it had about the same effect—the three goblins hiding in the bushes scampered off, scuttling for the crevices in the rock wall behind them and hissing in alarm.

“Nick! Wait!” Zee's voice was weak, but it stopped him immediately. What was wrong with him— acting like Tarzan, running off and leaving Zee and the kids? Hell, the goblins might have guns, too. The first one had. Did he think he was bulletproof as well as a pixie?

Nick spun around and began hurrying back. Even from a distance, he could see that Zee and the children had been peppered with darts. Zee had fallen to her knees and was brushing at her face, knocking the darts aside and leaving smears of blood. The children were flat on the ground and not moving.

The furry imp still clutched in Zee's arms had also been shot, but he didn't seem affected, beyond wiping his paws repeatedly over his face.

For the first time in a long while, Nick knew genuine fear.

He was only ten feet from Zee when the first wave of dizziness hit him and his knees tried to buckle. He felt his tongue thickening, and his eyes began to lose focus.

Drugged—some sort of super muscle relaxant. It was also slowing his heart and causing him to lose coordination. He only had seconds, maybe a minute, before he lost all muscular control.

Nick veered toward the trunk of the Jag and fumbled with his keys. His bag . . . he had to get to his medical bag. They all needed adrenaline, and they needed it fast.

Nick grabbed the case and staggered back toward the kids and Zee. He put down the shotgun, but kept it nearby. Part of him—an ugly part that he had never suspected lurked inside him—hoped that the goblins would come back, because he wanted very badly to shoot them dead. Such rage wasn't in his nature, but he didn't question it any more than he did his protective feelings toward Zee and the children.

“The children first,” Zee gasped. “Get the darts out.”

Nick was already at their sides, pulling out stingers—three in Hansel, two in Gretel. He was relieved to find that many had been stopped by their thick capes. Their respiration and heart rates were fine, though the kids were both unconscious. Recalling how they had reacted to the eggnog, Nick decided he wouldn't risk giving them adrenaline yet; he had no way of predicting how it might affect them. It frustrated him that he knew nothing about lutin physiology.

Nick turned to Zee. She wasn't unconscious, but she wasn't faring as well as the children. She had received the worst of the barrage and was sheened in sweat, and her breathing was ragged. He could see the pulse in her throat where it pounded like a triphammer. It was probably from the pain as much as anything. Nick's cheek felt like a swarm of hornets had had a go at him; he could only imagine how bad Zee felt with a dozen darts in her.

“Hang on, honey. Keep an eye on those rocks and tell me if the goblins come back.”

Zee nodded once, still yanking stingers out of her body. The imp huddled on the ground next to her, safe in the folds of her cape. Nick felt a moment of annoyance about that.

“Did you recognize any of those . . . people?” he asked, substituting
people
for an uglier word.

“No.” She gasped in another breath. “They weren't from my mother's hive. I've never seen goblins like them. They smell wrong. And did you see that they were naked? And they had no . . . no gender.”

“No external sex organs. I noticed. And . . . goblins usually do have them?” Nick felt ignorant asking.

“Yes. And they should . . . have had . . . six nipples, too. But they didn't. I wonder . . . if they belong . . . to that monster . . . at the mall. Something . . . about them . . . feels like . . . him.” She was breathing really erratically now.

Great, they were dealing with killer mutant goblins that worked for a monster at the mall, Nick thought. That's just what they needed to top off the morning. He didn't say that to Zee, though, who was chalk white and panting. Sweat was rolling down her face like tears, and her eyes were unfocused.

“Nick . . . I can't . . .” Her voice was fading.

“Don't worry. I have something that will fix you right up,” Nick said, offering her a lopsided smile. His left cheek refused to move: the drug on the darts was apparently also some kind of paralytic.

“Good. I . . . hurt.”

Swearing aloud, Nick dug deeper in his bag and finished mixing a cocktail of his limited drug supplies, praying he got it right since he could barely read the labels. He first shot himself and then Zee with a Dr. Feelgood mini-special—some epinephrine, some amphetamine, some synthetic dopamine—and once he was sure it was safe, for Zee he added an odd endorphin or two to block any pain she might feel. He kept the dose low and prayed the drugs wouldn't hurt her. He didn't like experimenting on her with human pharmaceuticals, but his choices were limited.

His vision began to clear and his heart rate increased as the hydrolysis of glycogen to glucose began.

“We have to go,” Zee murmured. “It isn't safe.”

Nick gave a sigh of relief to hear her speaking so clearly, then inhaled sharply with a new worry. His muscles were mostly ready for either fight or flight, but he was still only human—well, human enough! He could carry the kids or he could carry Zee; he couldn't do both.

And he was pretty certain that they were being trailed, and not just by goblins. He'd done the math and, even allowing for variables, it all came up to the same unhappy sum: Zee was probably right about them having a narrow escape from the cabin, and possibly from that first town they had driven through. This ambush hadn't been an accident. And since he, the supposed human, Dr. Nicholas Anthony, was of no importance to goblins, he had to conclude that someone didn't want Zee reaching Cadalach.

“What about you?” he asked the imp as Zee's breathing and skin tone gradually returned to normal. “Do you need a shot?”

The imp curled its lip, showing a bit of fang and peeping out of the cloak. Nick took that as a definite no.

“Any sign of the goblins?” Nick asked Zee, stowing his gear.

“No, but the wind has changed direction.” She looked him in the eye. “There are five of them out there—I can smell them now.”

“Can you move?” Nick asked, already reaching out to help her to her feet. The imp scampered a few steps off and watched them fearfully, its nose twitching violently.

“Yes.” Zee swayed once before she regained her balance, but her voice was stronger. Nick handed over her cloak and she pulled the garment around her. “Give me Gretel. You take Hansel and your bag. You said that you could see the faerie mound from here?”

Nick nodded, bending down to pick up the children. He didn't explain that he knew it was a faerie mound because a ghost had told him, and fortunately Zee didn't ask.

“Watch her breathing,” Nick warned Zee, putting Gretel in her arms. “Let me know if she starts having any trouble. I'd rather not do it except in an emergency, but I can give her a shot if she needs it.”