The Master (19 page)

Zee nodded, shifting her sister over her shoulder. Nick stooped and picked up Gretel's fallen teddy bear, stuffing it in his coat pocket.

“The rodent?” he asked reluctantly.

“He probably belongs to the goblins,” Zee answered. “But give him to me anyway. I wouldn't leave any living creature in their hands.”

Nick didn't argue. Eyeing the imp warily, he bent to retrieve it. The beast seemed to know that it was Zee who wanted him, remaining calm and not showing any teeth as Nick scooped him up.

“Put him on my shoulder,” Zee instructed. “He'll be able to cling.”

Eyeing the claws at the ends of the tiny hands, Nick could only agree.

“Be grateful she's here,” he whispered to the imp as he deposited it onto Zee's cloaked shoulder. He wiped his hand on his pants. “I'd leave you for wolf bait for what you did to my car.”

Nick was certain that the rodent smirked as it faced itself forward.

“Okay, honey, let's make tracks. The sooner we reach your faeries, the happier I'll be.”

“Me, too,” Zee answered. “Isn't it funny? The thought of going to the faeries just doesn't scare me anymore.”

Uh, Nick?
The ghost's voice was hesitant.

Yeah.

Just so we're clear. I see
a
faerie mound. It may not be
the
faerie mound. It may not have anyone living in it. I'm not seeing any signs of activity, which there should be, what with the guns going off and the screaming and all. . . .

Nick closed his eyes and prayed silently for patience and some better luck.

That's not Cadalach, then?

I don't think so. If rumors are true, Cadalach should be more to the south and closer to the California border—
though maybe this is some sort of back entrance. Or an outpost.

Just please tell me that Zee's goblin-eating dragon doesn't live there,
Nick answered facetiously.

The ghost made no reply.

What? No way. Noooo way! Are you seriously telling me there could be a dragon out there?

I really couldn't say. All I know is that Zee's right about there being five goblins on your trail, and they probably have more of those nasty darts. Whatever's in the mound has to be better than that, doesn't it? Anyway, the dragon belongs to the faeries—how dangerous could it be? It's probably quite tame. After all, it's never attacked any humans.

Oh, man . . . I hope not. What we don't need is to be facing a hostile dragon.

It wouldn't be my first choice either,
the ghost admitted.

Are you still sure that this “road” is better than the other one I was on?

The ghost sounded adamant:
Yes, even if it has a dragon.

Jack Frost stuck his head in through the door of Thomas's computer lab. The cavernous room was full of equipment that would be the envy of MIT, assuming MIT knew it existed. Even the CIA would be impressed with this array—and also surprised that Thomas had it in his possession. Fortunately, the government knew nothing of Cadalach.

“Put the kettle on,” Jack said. “We've got company coming—a man, a woman and two kids. And I think you and Cyra had better come along this time and be on the welcome committee.” He explained, when Thomas cocked an enquiring eyebrow and continued to unroll the coaxial cable: “They have five of King Quede's modified goblin trolls on their tails and they're headed right for the elf shian and your dragon.”

“Well, at least the goblin crosses won't be a problem for long,” Thomas half-laughed, reluctantly putting the cable aside. He shook his head and forced himself to focus. “Did you just say there was a man, a woman and two children?”

“Yes, and it gets really interesting, because the man's a pixie cross and the woman and children are half-goblin. Word of their coming is traveling like drums along the Mohawk—the shian is very excited and nervous.”

Thomas shook his head. “We better get moving then. Goblin, half-goblin—I don't trust the dragon's powers of differentiation. Especially not if he's hungry. Is Cyra out at the healing pool?” It was an obvious question. He and his wife had retrieved his wife's selkie skin, but so far, she had been unable to use it. The skin had stopped growing at the time it was taken from her; it hadn't died, but was in some sort of suspended animation. They were still trying to waken it from its hibernation, and the effort had Cyra's undivided attention. A whole selkie skin was the only way she would be able to stop the current magical hemorrhaging of her powers.

“I think she is. Finish up here and I'll get Nyssa and Abrial to do a dreamwalk. We'll get Cyra and we'll be on our way.”

Thomas looked up quickly. Nyssa was very near the time of giving birth, and Jack would not ask her to strain herself by doing a dreamwalk if it wasn't extremely important.

“We need Nyssa and Abrial, too?” he asked. “Jack, who
are
these people?”

“I don't know. But it seems Qasim has finally resurfaced, and the woman knows something about him. Unfortunately Qasim knows that she knows, and has acquired the services of some of Lobineau's troll crosses.”

“And so these poor souls have bigger problems than five goblin crosses and a dragon,” Thomas finished for him.

“Quite probably.”

“And that means we have problems, too.” Thomas didn't look happy. “Especially if Qasim has found his way into bed with Lobineau.”

“You always were good at adding two and two,” Jack said.

Thomas sighed. “Someone has to be.”

Nick eventually realized that a distinct sound could be heard above the ragged breathing that tore in and out of his parched throat; it floated over the rocky plain on the cold air, a noise so faint that one had to listen carefully to realize that it wasn't the howling of coyotes or some wild bird. He and Zee were running flat-out, but they were almost out of firm stony ground and were encountering more patches of slippery, sandy soil that left obvious tracks and slowed them down.

Nick looked over at Zee. He was surprised that she could maintain the pace he set. She was showing signs of sunburn and dehydration, and an accumulation of worry was forming lines between her brows, however she seemed largely unaffected by the drugs he'd given her, exhaustion or the thin mountain air. It was only that the ever-brightening sun was taking its toll.

The sun didn't bother Nick, but the cold of this place had a way of sucking the air out of his lungs and the moisture out of his skin. He knew the desert and its tricks. You could drink fluids all day long, but over time, your inner tissues went dry. If you stayed in the desert long enough, you became a desiccated shell, a living mummy.

And here he was, running through it without water.

It's something new,
the ghost's voice offered.

Oh, yeah. It's that and then some.

Nick was well and truly on his way to another life. Too bad the new life looked to be so uncomfortable. He felt as though someone had tied a thick bandage around his head and was tightening it like a tourniquet. It made breathing difficult, and it seemed impossible for him to open his eyes for more than a moment at a time. Nor was his mouth any happier; it was dry and musty and tasted a bit of dead leaves.

“Zee, are you okay? You look a little flushed,” he panted. She actually looked badly sunburned, but he didn't say so. He had a sudden horrifying image appear in his brain: Zee turned into an apple-head doll that was decaying, caving in and slumping forward on its stick body as bacteria and the arid conditions did their cruel work. It was as though she had started to exhale and forgotten to stop. Another moment and she would be completely curled in upon herself.

Nick shook his head, rejecting the terrible picture.

“I'm okay. It's just that the children and I don't do well in midday sun. But don't worry—I'm not at the end of my endurance yet.”

“Okay,” Nick answered. But he felt increasingly grim. If the cloud cover burned off, they would be in a bad way.

They hadn't seen any signs of life for the last mile except a wild boar gorging itself on some kind of carrion that looked uncomfortably like a human body, but they were being paced by a pair of dust devils about fifty yards away. The dust devils never got any closer, but they never fell behind either.

Nick could only hope that the things would help wipe out the trail he and Zee were leaving in the sand. Though, the dust devils themselves were a pretty obvious marker if anyone was trying to follow them.

Nick loved both the mountains and many parts of the desert, but the scenery at this base of the eastern slope of the Sierras was parched, almost antiseptic. And so was the freezing air they were breathing. It had been stripped of all odor of vegetation. There were stunted pines, manzanita and the occasional scraggly oak about, but they might as well have been paintings for all the life they showed. If it wasn't for the distant whoops and screams of the pursuing goblins, Nick might have believed himself and Zee to be alone on some movie set. Or in a neutral zone between worlds.

The children began to come around about forty minutes into their flight. Neither cried out or thrashed around, but Nick was certain he could hear Gretel whimper. Each tiny sound from her cut at his heart, and he found himself quite ready and able to do violence to the creatures chasing them. He and the ghost needn't have worried about his ethics interfering with his actions. Those damn drugged darts! They not only caused a lot of pain, they might also have affected the children's brains. He had no way of knowing what damage they had done.

It would be a shame for them to turn into eggplants,
the ghost said.
They're cute, aren't they—even if they are part goblin?

Oh, there you are. So glad you could join us,
Nick answered. The ghost had been gone for a bit.

Don't bust my chops. I was scouting ahead. Veer right. The entrance to the caverns is between those two spiked rocks.

I see it,
Nick thought, and he altered their course. The dust devils shifted with them. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed that they also moved in a little closer.

You see those cyclone things?
Nick asked.

Yeah.

Friend or foe?

Too soon to tell.

“Zee, do you see those dust devils?” Nick asked.

Zee glanced back. “Yes.”

“Do you think they're . . . that they're being caused by the . . .” What had she called it? “The weather goblin? Or the thing at the mall?”

“I don't know,” she answered. “I thought maybe they were jinn.”

“Jinn?”

Genies,
the ghost translated.

“You mean genies?” Nick asked.

“Yes. Some fey can call them. They're like . . . mascots. Or pets,” Zee explained.

“Oh. Would that be a good thing or a bad one?” Nick asked. “For us, I mean.”

“I wish I knew.” Zee shifted Gretel. She had to be tiring—Nick's own limbs were beginning to shake with fatigue, and he ran regularly. She added, “I take it as a good sign that they are staying between us and the goblins.”

“Yeah, they are.” Nick decided that he'd take it as a good sign, too. He also hoped that the faerie mound held some human necessities—like water. They would need it very soon. Zee especially was looking bad. If this chase went on much longer, he'd have to carry Gretel.

Suddenly, the sun was entirely blotted out. Nick looked up in surprise to see a thunderhead. It was building rapidly, the clouds boiling out of the sky as black as a cast-iron frying pan, and just as flat. It looked highly unnatural.

“Zee?”

“I think that's the monster's work,” she warned.

The clouds thickened quickly and began racing toward the bit of mountain that looked like a giant squatting on its haunches, pushed along by some atmospheric wind Nick couldn't feel from below. Lightning began to flicker, and deafening crashes reverberated in the air around them. A stinging, acid rain began to fall.

Nick didn't have to say anything to Zee. She put on a burst of desperate speed, and he leapt after her. They were close to the entrance, but Nick doubted they would make it; everything seemed to be coming together at once.

Suddenly, the dust devils closed in. Nick feared that he and Zee might be overwhelmed, choked with dust, but instead the devils formed a sort of protective cocoon around them, hurling the burning rain and lightning back into the sky. Nick wasn't any too thrilled to see two sets of yellow eyes peering at him out of the dusty red swirls, but he didn't bother complaining. At this point, he'd take help anywhere he could get it.

Here,
the ghost said.

“Here!” Nick shouted, pivoting to the right.

Zee followed, but the dust devils did not; they simply parted to let them through the mountain.

The cave interior was warm; surprisingly so. It was also fairly light, as there seemed to be overhead fissures that opened to the sky. The floor was covered in a soft red sand that could only have come from the pulverized glasslike rock walls. Nick wasn't sure if he should be happy with the nearby tracks, which suggested that something large had recently been dragged through.

“Look,” Zee said softly, and pointed.

There were dust motes twirling softly in the shafts of light coming down from the ceiling. This wasn't unexpected after the dust devils, but none of them had ever seen dust that glowed like the sunrise. It took a moment to realize that the dust was so red because firelight was reflecting off the cave's glassy walls.

“What—” Nick began, only to be interrupted by a rumble like a tiny earthquake. The hair on his arms stood on end, and his nerves trilled a warning. “Get down!” he called.