Magic Time: Angelfire (46 page)

When Papa had finished, he put aside his porridge bowl, picked up his mug of chicory and sat back with a sigh of contentment, his face warmed by the crimson stained sunlight that poured through the street-level windows. “So, you still want to go charging off into the heart of darkness, do you, Mr. Cal?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Surely you do. You could stay here. Here, you don’t have to search and Enid don’t have to play.”

“Staying here doesn’t get my sister back,” said Cal. “Staying here is giving up—not just on Tina, but on everything. I can’t do that. I couldn’t live with knowing I’d done that.”

Papa gazed at Cal in such a way that I almost believed he could see him. “Well, you got this far. I didn’t figure you for a quitter. You’re a lot like my friend in that, Mr. Cal. He understands your desire to persevere.”

“Does that mean he’ll help us?”

“He can’t do miracles. But he did tell me some things. About that Tower? He says you oughta find the seventh floor real interesting.”

“Why?” Cal glanced at Goldie, who sat at one corner of the table with his back pressed against the wall. “What’s on the seventh floor? The legal records? Primal? What?”

“He didn’t enlighten me on that point, son. He just said to tell you that you’d find the seventh floor of interest. His words. He also suggested you leave Enid and the pretty flying lady outside the building. Said it’d be bad for both them in there. And he said you should go in through the car park underneath. There’s a delivery exit on the northeast corner, and a fire stair that goes up from the sublevel. Now, I’ll tell you something
I
know. You go in there, you gotta be ready. Up here.” He tapped his temple. “I told you before, that thing ain’t what it seems. You gotta watch yourselves and keep your heads in what you’re doing.”

“You’ve said that before—that it’s not what it seems. But you won’t say what that means. Primal is powerful—we understand that.”

Papa Sky sat forward in his chair, blind eyes on Cal. “Primal is a trickster.”

“Puppet-master,” murmured Colleen.

Papa Sky cocked his head toward her. “Smart girl. Don’t forget that.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about Primal,” Cal pressed.

The old man shook his head. “I only know what I hear and see and feel. I know what my friend tells me. He’s a very observant soul, my friend.” He finished his drink, then rose and held out his hand. “Toney-boy, it’s time for me to go. Could you take me to my place?”

Tone got up from the table and came to Papa’s side.

“Oh, yeah, one other thing.” He felt in his coat pocket and drew out what looked like a small triangle of shell-hard leather. He held it out to Colleen. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

Colleen took the bit of hide and turned it on her palm. “Weird. What is it?”

Enid leaned across the table. “Looks kinda like a guitar pick. Too thick, though.”

“You feel anything from it, do you?” Papa Sky asked Colleen.

She stared at it, then enclosed it in her fingers. I found my muscles knotting, as if I believed this harmless old blind man might put something in her hand that would injure her. Yet, had he not himself observed that some things were not what they seemed?

I shook myself. Whatever else this changed world did to me, I could not let it turn me to knee-jerk distrust.

Colleen looked up at Papa Sky and shook her head, then apparently remembered he couldn’t see her. “No. No, I don’t feel a thing. Am I supposed to?”

“You ain’t been touched by the Storm, girl. You’re as pure as you were before the change was made. Backwards as it 
seems, that means you can see stuff that can’t be seen by them that’s been touched. But that stuff can hurt you like it can’t hurt them. My friend says you carry that on you all the time, you’ll get through. Wear it next to your skin,” he added, and shuffled off on Tone’s arm.

I looked at the thing in Colleen’s hand. It was dark, gray-green, and oddly textured. Hesitantly, I put a finger on it. It sent a strange, uneasy tingle through my fingertips.

Cal reached over and took the thing out of her hand, then dropped it as if it had burnt him. It fell to the table with a click, firing a faint blue spark. “Damn,” he murmured. “I don’t like the feel of that, Colleen. It’s …” He shook his head, wiping his palm on his jeans. “I’m not sure you ought to carry it.”

Colleen retrieved the strange chip and slipped it into her pocket. “After colliding with Primal’s little force field, I think I’d just rather be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” murmured Goldie, “but which is which?”

Cal swung into high gear then, formulating plans. He, Colleen, and Goldie would try to gain entrance to the Black Tower; Enid, Magritte, and I would remain outside, on watch. We would rely on Magritte’s connection with Goldie for instant awareness if anything should go awry inside.

We prepared as if for battle, taking only emergency food and water, concealing small weapons. Except for Goldie. Goldie’s arsenal consisted of such things as his rattle, a wooden flute Kevin Elk Sings had given him, tiny bells laced upon a string about his wrist. Only when Colleen pressed him did he consent to slip a knife into his boot.

As preparation went forward, I was consumed with a sense of dread. But as closely as I watched Colleen, I saw in her nothing but a bulldog’s determination. When I would look up to catch her watching me, I would wonder if she feared, as I did, that she might walk into the Black Tower and never come out again. I could not help but remember that in my nightmares the Tower was associated with loss.

For me, the tension was unbearable. While they pored over Cal’s map, settling on a route that would take us into 
hell, I slipped into the scullery off the bar and made myself busy finding odds and ends that might have medicinal value. I am not a man who paces the floor. Action must at least
seem
to have meaning.

Deeply engaged in some inconsequential task, I didn’t realize I was not alone until I heard the door click shut behind me.

“I think you’ve got enough stuff there for a field hospital, Doc.”

I turned.

She was dressed from head to toe in black leather: leather pants, a jacket that hung to mid-thigh. She was a biker Valkyrie. She grinned at me. “Venus’s stuff. Pretty tough, huh? At least, it makes me
feel
tough. Leather’s good protection.” She patted her thigh, then took another step into the room. “Time to go.”

I was mute.

She gave me a long, level look, then dropped her eyes to the floor. “Look, Viktor. I’m pretty dense a lot of the time, but I don’t have to be hit over the head more than two or three whacks to know … What I’m trying to say is that I think there’s something we need to, um … to work out here.” She paused, raising her eyes to my face. “Isn’t there?”

No pretense. I had promised her that, and I knew it would be impossible for me to break a promise to Colleen. “Last night,” I said, “you accused me of playing the father figure for you. I suppose I have done that, at first unintentionally, and then… with purpose. It was a safe role. But you are right when you say that I am not your father.” I halted, the impossible words frozen on my tongue. “Dear God, how can I say this to you?”

She took another step in, her eyes searing my face. “Just say it.”

“Colleen, the feelings I have for you are not a father’s.” She hesitated, as if waiting for me to say more, then shrugged. “And this is a problem?”

“Is it not a problem? I am old enough—”

“To know better. So am I, come to it, but self-knowledge hasn’t been a real high priority for me until just recently.

Look, Viktor, here’s the flip side. I’m not your daughter. I don’t want you to think of me as a daughter, or treat me like a daughter. I want…”

She struggled for a moment, her eyes locked with mine, then muttered, “Dammit, Viktor.” She took a final step, put her hands to my face and kissed me.

I ceased to analyze and agonize and simply allowed myself to live inside the moment, allowed the cascade of emotion to flow over and into that hollow space. The kiss began with tender discovery and ended with a passion that stunned me to the marrow.

So, this was rebirth.

Finally, Colleen drew back in my arms, releasing a long sigh. “Glory hallelujah,” she said. “You know, I came in here thinking that I was going to tell you how I felt because, well, who knows if we’ll have another chance, right?” She looked up into my eyes, stunning me anew. “But I promise you, Viktor, we’re going to come out of this alive.”

“If you say it, I have no doubt,” I said.

In the hallway outside, someone called our names. Cal. I felt a sudden, swift stab of guilt.

“Damn,” said Colleen, and moved to answer his call. Like a sleepwalker, I followed.

He was standing in the hallway behind the bar, and saw us the moment we emerged from the scullery. “I was wondering where you two went. We’re ready to move out.” He scanned our faces, then asked, “Something wrong?”

Colleen smiled. “Not a thing. Just wanted to make sure Doc wasn’t assembling an entire MASH unit.”

Cal nodded, but as I passed him on the way into the bar, he laid a hand on my arm. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”

I could barely look him in the eye. Stupid, yes? Perhaps it was only in my mind that Colleen and Cal belonged together, but I suspected the connection existed in his mind as well.

“Don’t let her take unnecessary risks. I shall ask her to do the same for you.”

Cal grinned and pressed my arm. “Thanks.”

There was about him the exhilaration I have seen on 
those who are about to go into battle. In Afghanistan, where I was stationed at a field hospital, I saw it every day on young, ardent faces. At the time, I was horrified by how eager they were to die. I have come to understand that it was not death they yearned for, but action. Action of any kind. Anything but the waiting.

In the bar, we prepared to move out, grimly purposeful. I looked at the leather-clad Valkyrie and wondered if this hard-bitten warrior was really the same woman who had just come to me quaking with uncertainty. Already, my arms felt the ache of returning emptiness.

“This is it,” Cal told me, patting the sword at his thigh. He looked over at Tone and Jelly, who hovered uncertainly behind us. “Wish us luck.”

Tone shook his head and held out one hand. “You’re a crazy shit, Calvin. Hope you’re a lucky shit, too.”

Cal took the hand and shook it.

We headed up the stairs to the street then, Goldie trailing the double tether that joined him to Magritte—nylon and light. My connection to Colleen was, blessedly, invisible. Before Cal could lay a hand on the door, it opened, admitting a shaft of amber light. The soft radiance framed a short, misshapen figure.

“Boy howdy,” said Goldie. “If it ain’t the prodigal troll.”

Enid swore, Colleen threatened, and Howard Russo shuffled from one foot to the other, glancing at each of us in turn. He looked down at the floor, nudging a knothole with his toe as if he might cover it up or erase it.

He finally looked up and met Cal’s eyes. “I feel like shit,” he said. “I’m not a bad man. Just a scared man. Just wanted to go home. Couldn’t get out.” His eyes darted about, making him look like a trapped thing. “It wouldn’t let me out.”

“So you came crawling to us,” said Colleen. “How noble.”

Russo nearly snarled at her. “Didn’t have to. Could’ve gone to Primal. Maybe if I gave him something he wanted, he’d cut me loose.”

Colleen snorted. “You would’ve cut a deal for Enid? Fed him to the contract so you could get out of it?”

Russo’s eyes snapped to her face. “
Would’ve
. Didn’t. I didn’t. See?”

Colleen ran a hand through her hair, leaving it in wild disarray. “So that’s it? You’ve come back to apologize for dumping our asses on Primal’s doorstep?”

“No. To help.” Russo turned to Enid. “Feel like crap. I like you, Enid. Always have. Didn’t want to hurt you. Just got cold feet.” He curled his bare, gray toes as if to illustrate. “Came back ’cause I can help you get in. I can set you up to talk to Primal.”

“Set us up,” repeated Colleen. “Good choice of words, Howie.”

The color of Russo’s face altered subtly. “Wouldn’t do that. I mean it.”

Cal was focused tightly on Russo’s face. “All right. Let’s assume for a moment that we take you up on your offer. How do you intend to get us in?”

The big milky eyes were suddenly very direct. “I only look useless. Primal’s got my contract, too. He wants something from me.”

“What?”

“I’m a manager. Manage talent. S’posed to help him hang on to what he’s got.” He turned his milky gaze up into Enid’s face. “I let you get away. Let a couple others get away, too. S’pose he figures I owe him something for that.”

Enid took a step back, steadying himself against a table. “You
let
me get away?”

Russo nodded. “He was pissed as hell. That’s why he took over the contract.”

Cal dropped his gaze to the floor. “All right, Howard. You come. But for your sake, be straight with us.”

“Straight,” said Russo, making a vague gesture over his heart.

We walked out into the amber daylight then. At the top of the steps, Colleen paused to adjust the crossbow that hung beneath the skirt of her jacket.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “You have the talisman Papa Sky gave you?”