Immortal (30 page)

My heart was pumping. I didn't care how sentimental Madóran felt, that damn alben was going to die.

Caeran stirred. “They are heading south.”

I looked away from the headlights as they passed, a white glare leaving the night darker behind it. What was south of here? Guadalupita, then Mora. Where could the alben be going?

A long chase wouldn't be advantageous for him, burdened with Madóran. He'd want to go to ground as soon as possible. I didn't think he'd try the bar, though—folks there would probably be unhappy to see Madóran unconscious over his shoulder. So where?

Human hostages were a complication he couldn't afford right now. One more thing to keep control of. So a barn or something would be better than a house.

It would be a standoff. The ælven were on him; they'd follow him until he stopped. He'd have to count on holding them off with a threat. Against Madóran's life?

Cold went through me as I thought of another possibility. Maybe he wanted to infect Madóran. Misery loves company.

“Sonofabitch,” I whispered.

Caeran looked at me. I sped up, not that it would help, but because I felt helpless.

Guadalupita flashed by, the bar and the post office. I drove on toward Mora.

“Still moving?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Caeran gazed out the window. The two in the back were silent.

The few miles to Mora zipped by. There wasn't much traffic, for which I was glad. Folks were either at home or at the bar.

When I began to see more buildings I slowed down. Mora was a bigger town, but if it had a bar I didn't know it. Barns, yes. There was some kind of big storage building on the raspberry ranch, I thought. It was too dark by now for me to see.

Caeran leaned forward. “They are just ahead. They have stopped moving.”

We were coming up on the junction. I frowned, wondering where they might be. Not in the raspberry store …

The old mill! Nothing in there right now. Plans to make it a museum—it was already on the historic register. But unoccupied, and big.

I pulled into the parking lot at the raspberry store, just north of the mill. No sense in announcing our arrival. I got out, hugging my cloak around me. The air was sharp, but clean. I took a deep lungful and coughed at the cold.

The others followed me down the shoulder toward the mill. A pale form stood at the north end of the building—Bironan. He glanced at us and nodded, gesturing to the mill.

The building paralleled the highway, ending at the intersection. It was long and fairly narrow, built of huge dark beams of lumber that had once been massive and were now rickety.

I could see another ælven standing down by the junction, near the far end of the mill. Couldn't tell who.

Bironan pulled my passengers aside and conferred with them in hushed voices. I held my cloak tight and paced to keep warm, angry at being excluded.

After a few minutes, Caeran came to me. The others began moving toward the mill.

“Len, please wait at the car.”

I frowned. “Let me stand watch or something. I won't interfere. I'll feel safer with you.”

“You will be a liability.”

His tone was stern, almost sounding like Madóran. I hated knowing he was right. Stupid feeble human body.

“I'll wait here.”

I stepped over to the corner of the newer building that held the raspberry store, and leaned against the stone wall. Caeran sighed.

“Do not move from there.”

“Right. Hurry back.”

I watched him catch up with the others, fast and silent. It was weird watching four men move without making a sound.

The alben must know he was surrounded. What would he do? What were they going to try?

The ælven disappeared against the darkness of the mill. The one I had seen earlier by the junction moved into shadow and I lost track of him as well. I strained to hear something, anything. They were too good; not even a creak from the old wooden building.

Since I couldn't see anything anyway, I closed my eyes and pictured Madóran, then surrounded him with white light.
Please
, I thought, not sure who I was asking—God or whatever—
please protect him
.

A shout made me jump. The alben's voice, harsh, imperative, speaking words I didn't know. A moment later someone called back. The alben interrupted, short and sharp. After that it was silent.

Long minutes went by. I stood straining to hear, but no more voices reached me. Maybe they were talking mentally, and I couldn't hear. Frustrated, I took a few steps forward.

No moon, and I couldn't see much by starlight. I wanted to go investigate, but I'd promised to stay put.

Caeran?

I bounced from foot to foot, hating inactivity. Finally a figure came toward me out of the darkness. Caeran.

“What's going on?” I whispered.

“It is a standoff. Gehmanin is holding Madóran at knife-point inside the building. He swears he will kill him if we do not leave.”

“That's a lie. He doesn't want Madóran dead.”

“We have no alternative.”

“Yes you do. Let me talk to him.”

“No! Absolutely not, Len.”

“He can infect any of you, but not me.”

“He will kill you without a thought.”

“No, because he needs me. He just doesn't know it yet.”

I could feel Caeran glaring at me, even though I couldn't see his face very well in the dark. I stepped closer and put a hand on his arm.

“I'll talk to him about the research. He seemed interested in that earlier.”

“It was only a ruse to make Madóran come within reach.”

“Partly, maybe. But I think I can make him listen.”

“No.” His voice held a flat, uncompromising tone. “It is too dangerous.”

I ran my hand up his arm to his shoulder and leaned in. “You haven't hesitated to face danger. You've done it repeatedly in the last week. You saved my life a couple of times, for which thank you, by the way. Now it's my turn.”

“Len, no.” His voice was softer now, more pleading than ordering, and that was harder to resist. He put his arms around me. “I cannot bear to lose you so soon.”

I drew a shaky breath. “You won't lose me. I'll stay by the door, I promise.”

“He can compel you—”

“Why would he, though?”

Caeran's answer was a wall of darkness that I could feel. Was I sensing his khi? It didn't matter.

“He won't eat me. I'll make him curious before he has the chance.”

I could feel Caeran's breathing, faster than usual. His confidence was shaken, something I hadn't observed before. I struggled to hide my own doubts.

“Please, just let me try. If he won't listen I'll get out of there.”

“I will go with you.”

“He won't let you.”

“I will stay outside the door. If he makes a move against you… .”

I swallowed. If the alben moved against me, all hell would break lose.

“OK,” I said.

Suddenly Caeran was kissing me ravenously. I gave back with enthusiasm, so much so that my loins ached to be elsewhere, someplace warm with a bed. Finally I pulled away.

“We'd better explain to the others.”

“I will do so,” Caeran said. He offered his arm—the quaint formal gesture I'd come to love—and led me toward the mill.

He must have done his explaining on some mental plane that I wasn't in on. As we neared the mill, the other ælven gathered around the door. Tiruli was there; I could tell by her shape, and even by her khi a little, I thought.

Bironan came close to whisper to me. “We are grateful to you for making this attempt. We will defend you.”

“Right. Thanks,” I whispered. “Hopefully there won't be a need.”

The door to the mill sagged, leaving gaps above and at the side. Darkness leaked out through them, and to my over-active mind it felt malevolent. I pushed on the door; it creaked.

“It's me,” I called out, though I was sure the alben already knew. An ælven would have managed to open the door without making noise.

“Listen to me, please.”

No answer. I drew a deep breath, feeling a lot less sure of myself than when I discussed this plan with Caeran a few minutes earlier. He put a hand on my shoulder from behind; he knew, of course, exactly what I was feeling. I hadn't bothered to try to shield my thoughts. It hardly mattered now.

“I'm coming in. I just want to talk to you.”

The door groaned as I opened it enough to go in. The floor was uneven and I dreaded putting my foot through it. I moved with tiny steps, edging past the door and leaving it open behind me. The starlight from outside was bright compared with the interior of the mill. I could see slivers of gray where the boards of the walls had gapped apart, but there wasn't enough light for me to see Madóran or the alben.

“Madóran?”

“He cannot answer you.”

I turned toward the voice, frowning. The alben wasn't close by, which was a relief. If he wanted to attack me, he'd have to get closer.

“Is he alive?” I asked.

“What does it matter to you?”

The sneer in his voice made me angry. I kept straining to see, to hear any movement. I hated this blindness.

Len.

Caeran's touch brought me vision; he was looking through a gap in the wall behind me. Everything in the mill was shades of gray, but I saw clearly. The alben was backed against a large, boxy structure, holding Madóran before him like a shield. Starlight glinted off the knife he held at Madóran's throat.

My anger flared. “It matters to you,” I said. “If he's dead, there's no hope. You know that.”

The alben didn't answer, just frowned back at me. Caeran's attention focused on Madóran and I stared at him, hoping to see him breathe.

“I came to tell you why you have to wait ten years,” I said. “Madóran didn't say because he was protecting me, but you need to know. You need both of us, or there won't be a cure.”

The alben gave a bark of scornful laughter. “If a cure was possible, he would have found it.”

“He doesn't have access to our scientific technology. I will, but I've got to go through medical school first. Then I'll get into a research lab. Madóran has agreed to work with me. If human science can offer a cure, we'll find it.”

The alben's eyes narrowed. Good, he was thinking.

“Let him go.”

I took a step toward them. The alben tightened his grip, pressing the blade against Madóran's throat. I froze.

“What could I do to you?” I said. “Nothing. You're stronger, faster. I'm no threat. Let him go, and you can leave. Leave the country like he said. Come back in ten years.”

“A pretty fantasy.”

I shook my head. “Truth. You know Madóran wouldn't lie to you.”

For a moment a look of anguished hunger crossed his face, then the frown returned. “Those others will never let me pass.”

“Yes they will.” I raised my voice. “Right, Bironan? If he lets Madóran go, he can leave?”

“Yes,” came the grudging reply from outside.

“See? So let him go. We're your best chance. You'd like to be normal again, right?”

I'd said too much. He scowled and started to drag Madóran backward. That didn't look good.

I followed them to the south end of the building, past what was left of the machinery. Seeing through Caeran's eyes, I watched myself walk away; disorienting, but I could cope. Sort of like fun house mirrors.

The alben stopped near the back wall. Behind him, light came through a large gap in the boards.

“Let him go. You won't get far if you run, you know that.”

“I don't need to get far,” he whispered, his voice a hiss.

Madóran slumped to the floor. I had just enough time to realize the alben had vanished, then I was yanked backward, strangling.

I clawed at the cloak clasp and got it loose. The cloak fell away and I stumbled sideways, my foot tangling in the fabric. I almost fell.

Len! Get out!

I couldn't see what I was doing, still watching the show from a distance. I shoved my hands in my pockets, frantic for my keys, my only weapon. Came up with keys in one hand and a wad of cloth in the other. Napkin, I remembered.

A noise; I spun, but too late. An iron arm went around me from behind and I felt the knife at my throat.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gulped a breath, and flung the chile powder from the napkin over my shoulder.