Noah's Boy-eARC (41 page)

But then he heard a creak up the track, and turning, realized that Maduh, in sabertooth form, was loping along the track towards him. And behind him, a smaller form of her, one that also bore some resemblance to the dreaded Dante Dire was zeroing in on him as well. They had him boxed in, and the dragons were above. He’d have to fly down, and then they could burn him at leisure. And then—

And then there were Pegasi. A whole herd of them, in every color a horse could possess. Tom, keeping an eye in front and one behind, could only see them peripherally, grey and pinto, brown and sable, swooping in.

For a moment he was confused about what these newcomers could do exactly, because, after all, the dragons could flame them, and then they would be roast horsemeat.

But the flying equines proved incredibly agile, moving with the ease of smaller things, and—seemingly—always out of reach of the flames, while managing to aim deft kicks at the dragons’ heads. They worked together as though they’d trained at this, cornering the dragons, getting them down.

Which left Tom free to concentrate on Maduh.

She leapt through the air at his throat. He knew, without turning, that her cub would be leaping also. He flapped his wings, and felt the cub’s claws just catch his back leg, while Maduh’s teeth closed on air, and she fell down. For a moment, it seemed she would fall all the way to the ground, but she twisted at the last minute and fell onto the track, turning as Tom flew down to claw at her, and meeting his onslaught with claws that caught his foreleg and teeth that closed on his foot.

He screamed. He wanted to flame. But if he flamed, he was going to set the coaster structure on fire. And if he did that, then Maduh’s cub would die also.

Tom shouldn’t worry about the cub, of course. Even as he thought this, he felt the cub leap and catch his wing, rending it. Beneath them, on the ground, more and more animal shifters came and joined battle with the triad dragons.

Tom had to finish Maduh. He had to. The more he delayed and allowed her to control the dragons, the more casualties there would be.

Even from up here, he could smell the blood and hear the screams of pain. He could kill Maduh now, or risk massive casualties on both sides.

And he had friends on both sides.

Maduh was writhing. She was trying to shift. He thought she judged that Tom couldn’t kill something that looked human. She would have been right—before.

Maybe I’ll make an exception
, he thought, as Maduh’s face contorted, and her human-looking eyes stared back at him in challenge.

He thought of Old Joe who, really, had only wanted to continue dumpster diving and walking down memory lane at Dinosaur Ridge.

He thought of the baleful sad eye looking back at him, of the teeth that would no longer clack together with amusement.

He lowered his head and bit through Maduh’s neck.

Her head fell down through the lattices of the roller coaster, completing its transformation from sabertooth to woman as it fell, the long blond hair fluttering in the wind like a flag.

Behind Tom, the cub screamed. Tom turned, just in time, to pin him with a claw across the belly, careful not to pierce the skin, to prevent him from diving down after his dam.

* * *

Below, the fighting still went on. Tom found that his connection to dragons had been restored and, realizing that he might have to make up a truly spectacular explanation for the Great Sky Dragon later, nonetheless chose to reach down and into the mind of the combatants on both sides.
Stand down,
he sent as a command.
Stand down.

As the fighting stopped, and the two sides backed away from each other, he could see that there were some corpses on the ground. He hoped it wasn’t permanent death for those.

He also could see, among the combatants, dark shadows, cowl-wearing beings, and he thought,
The creatures from the stars.
And then:
They feed on pain.

He found he had shifted and was sitting atop the roller coaster, his arm across the feral shifter cub, who had also shifted, and who was lying on the tracks, looking up at Tom in pure terror.

Tom looked into his eyes, found total fear, then reached into his mind, into preverbal, confused thought, and commanded,
Stand down.
And also,
Hurt no one. No one in human form. And don’t shift unless allowed.

The creature made a pitiful sound of protest. He was no more used to orders than he was to instruction. But Tom had the force of the old shifters behind him, the first to come to Earth and to set order upon the chaos of the primeval world.

The young shifter looked up at him, and made a sound again, one of submission, the sound of a confused young creature with no defenses.

Tom removed his arm carefully, and the young man—he looked all of maybe fourteen—pulled up his legs, shivering, to wrap his arms around them.

Tom stood shakily. One of his legs was torn from thigh to calf and pouring blood, but not fast enough for it to be the femoral artery. There was also a laceration across his chest, and the bite on his hand would probably make it impossible for him to cook for a day or two.

He offered his other hand to the young shifter. “Come on,” he said, and put authority and images behind his words. He showed the shifter the stairs, and the way down them, then helped guide him.

The boy’s hand felt calloused and rough and very, very sweaty in his, as Tom—limping—led him to the stairs and down. If he didn’t have to bring the boy down, Tom thought he might just lay up there, on top of the roller coaster, and fall asleep.

But he
had
to get the boy down.

At the bottom of the stairs, he saw the big black Pegasus, the stallion who had led the pack, shift back into the form of James Stephens.

“Dark Horse?” Tom rasped at him.

James lowered his dark eyebrows defensively. “Yeah. And?”

“Thanks.” Then, as he observed the group of men and women around James, “You know when you talked about the ponies, I always thought they were just…horses. You know, pets?”

James’ face split in a smile. “Oh, there are those too. I own some at a friend’s farm. But these are— We fly on weekends. We…”

“Yeah,” Tom said, and walked past, leading the feral teen.

He walked past Jao, half of whose face was raw flesh, and who had a bite mark out of his shoulder. A bite mark from something big. He stopped. “The Great Sky Dragon is there,” he pointed to the entrance to the space under the dragon ride. “I don’t think he’s very well.”

And then, suddenly, Kyrie was running towards him, hugging him, not caring that he was naked and hurt and covered in blood. He put his free arm awkwardly around her, and she said, “Tom. Oh, damn it, Tom. You were in trouble and I couldn’t change, and—”

“Shh,” he said. “Shh. It’s all right now.”

* * *

A call to Anthony on Kyrie’s phone, told Tom that everything was all right at The George, kind of slow, though people were straggling in by twos and threes, some of them with big injuries.

“But
you’re
all right?” Anthony asked Tom.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Kyrie was awful worried about you and she couldn’t, you know, become whatever it is, cougar or whatnot, and go out to help you.”

“She got here,” Tom said. And up from his memory came the only reason a female shifter suddenly stopped shifting.

Most of the winged shifters took to the sky. Kyrie found clothes for most of the others, even if some of the women had to do with just one large T-shirt. A few of the shifters besides Kyrie and Rafiel had cars. The owner of the park, who turned out to be an elk shifter, dug up an ancient bus from somewhere, and some of the remaining shifters got into it.

“We’ll need to come back,” Rafiel said, looking exhausted, and holding onto Bea’s hand, as though he feared she’d disappear. Bea and Conan were the only winged shifters who’d stayed around, probably because they were with people who couldn’t fly. “I mean, sooner or later someone will find her corpse and call the police.”

“I’ll call,” the owner said. “Later.” Then hesitated. “Can we
not
have publicity? Look, this is my only income, and I—”

“Sure,” Rafiel said. “We’ll make up some story. Some animal. Komodo dragon has served us in the past. Not murder. Horrible accident.”

“Before I go,” Tom said, “there is a corpse, in the hut, under the bridge. It’s an alligator. Can you wrap it in a sheet and bring it—” He paused confused. “Rafiel, how do we get an alligator cremated?”

“An— Old Joe? Damn.”

“Yeah. He stayed in alligator form, after death.”

“Oh. He shifted to human?”

Tom had nodded and looked at Maduh’s cub, still clinging to him. “Like him,” he said. “It happens when you’re conceived in animal form.”

“Damn,” Rafiel said again.

“Yeah, but I don’t want his corpse merely thrown away.”

“No,” Rafiel said. He looked pensive. “Look, it’s probably breaking all sorts of laws, but my cousin is an undertaker and has a crematorium. I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, good,” Tom said. “I figured we’d take the ashes to Dinosaur Ridge and let them go.”

Rafiel nodded.

Rya came forward, with Conan and her father. Half of her father’s scalp seemed to be missing, and there was a bloodstain on the T-shirt Kyrie had given him, but he looked at the young shifter and told Tom, “Conan says you made the young man there safe to be around. Conan says he could hear the orders. I couldn’t because, well, I’m not that close to you, but if it’s true, and if you can get him to obey me…” He looked at the young shifter attentively. “Can he learn?”

“I think so,” Tom said. “If he were human it would be too late, but he isn’t. Or not just human. He’s a shifter. It’s just she never tried to teach him. He followed her around, usually in animal form. I think it will be like teaching someone who is impaired, but he has a long time and I think he’ll learn.”

“Would you…do you think you could set it on him to obey me? The condo is awfully large, and I’m retired, and Rya is getting married and moving out, and…what the hell else am I going to do with myself?”

“I thought you were writing a novel?” Tom asked.

The man they had for years called the Poet shrugged. “It can wait. The thing is…shifters live a long time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, there’s time. And meanwhile, you know, I kind of ran out on raising Rya. My ex convinced me it was better if I left and…didn’t embarrass them. So…this is my chance to raise a kid. It think I’ll name him Mowgli.”

Tom opened his mouth to protest, then thought it was no worse than Conan.

* * *

Before they left the park, Tom used a very old technique, yet a technique now quite within his abilities, to assemble all the shadow beings and send them back through a thin spot in the veil between worlds, a spot which he then sealed very firmly. But even as he did so, he could tell that it wouldn’t stay sealed, that the Great Sky Dragon had been right. Now the star beings had found them, they were bound to try to get in again. And they had other ready and willing agents among humans. Yet Tom had the power to call all shifters. Which meant…

He swore softly.

Kyrie, who had watched him attentively while he made strange passes midair and did even odder things with his mind as the shadows from other worlds rushed backward through a greater shadow, now said, “How much are you still
you
?”

“I’m all me. I just know some very odd things. Let’s go home, Kyrie.”

* * *

Kyrie didn’t want Tom to drive home but he did. She was surprised when he stopped by the drugstore two blocks from their house. They’d found his wallet in the space beneath the dragon ride, but all the same, she was puzzled, when he said, “I’ll be right back,” and dove out of the van.

He came back minutes later, carrying a bag. He took a small velvet box out of the bag and said, “I’ll buy you a better one later, but right now, I want you to have this.” He opened the box to show her an engagement ring in gold-painted plastic, with a cubic zirconia on top.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re marrying me.”

If she weren’t so tired, she’d have put more force into the outraged, “Thomas Edward Ormson, you—”

“No.” His voice was very tired and very firm. “We own a diner together. We live together. You’re my other half. I can’t imagine living without you. We’re going to get married.”

“You’re supposed to
ask
,” she said querulously.

“It’s not open to discussion. We’re going to make legal what is already true.”

“Damn it, if it’s true, why bother?”

“Because,” he said, and looked at her, very seriously. “Because I can’t stand that you are not legally my wife. I want everyone to know—triads, clients, suppliers—that we belong together. That I belong to you.”

She wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn’t. She sighed. “You could still
ask
.”

“Kyrie Grace Smith, will you marry me?”

“Can I say no?”

“No.”

“Okay, fine. Then
yes
.”

He laughed and kissed her and slid the cheap ring on her finger. Then he looked solemn and handed her the plastic bag. “When we get home, I want you to use that.”

She looked in the bag. It was a pregnancy test.

* * *

The amazing thing, Rafiel thought, was not that the diner patrons looked very sheepish at nine a.m. the next day. The amazing thing was that neither the local paper nor the local TV stations, nor even one of the local blogs made any mention of the cavalcade of animals that had trooped through downtown.

True, one of the local morning DJs said something about almost getting run down by a bear headed for a bar dumpster, but that happened, anyway, now and then, in the Front Range.

He brought Bea to breakfast at the diner, and noted that Jason looked hungover when he took their order.

“So,” Rafiel told Bea. “I’d like to continue seeing you…”

She looked hesitant. “It’s very far away,” she said. “Long distance relationships…”

“How many years do you have left?” he asked. “In college?”

“One,” she said. “I’m in my senior year.”