The Dark Remains (26 page)

“It’s good to see you, Deirdre Falling Hawk,” he said, and he meant it with all his heart.

Slowly, tenderly, a small smile crept across the arched bow of her lips. “What happened to your hair?”

Travis ran a hand over his bald head and laughed.

They found Grace and Hadrian Farr already embroiled in quiet conversation, sitting on a bench beneath a hulking iron sculpture that reminded Travis of the dragon Sfithrisir, stretching vast wings whose outlines blurred with the very air so that they were maddening to gaze upon.

Grace looked up as Travis and Deirdre approached. Her face was hard and bloodless, and Travis stopped in his tracks. He glanced at Deirdre, whose expression was grim, then back to Grace and Farr.

“He’s gone,” Grace said before he could speak.

Perhaps there was enough of her Weirding left in this place for her to Touch and speak to him, or perhaps it was simply the instinct that comes with urgency and closeness. Either way, when Travis spoke the word, a numbness filled him: the coldness of truth.

“Beltan.”

Minutes later they sat in the comfortably upholstered interior of a black limousine as the streets of Denver moved like shades beyond the tinted windows. On the other side of the driver’s partition, a silhouette piloted the vehicle with skilled, anonymous assurance.

Travis sat next to Deirdre, his hand resting on top of hers in what had begun as an unconscious motion only to continue in an active desire to hold on to something real, solid. On the seat opposite sat Grace and Hadrian Farr. The Seeker was as handsome and elegantly disheveled as Travis remembered, the strong line of his jaw shadowed by a day’s worth of stubble, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, his chinos rumpled but well tailored. He was twilight next to Grace’s bright afternoon, dark and sensual where she was chiseled and regal. It was hard not to notice that they looked striking together.

Farr and Deirdre explained what they knew. It was precious little. Upon their arrival that morning, they had gone to Denver Memorial to confirm that the hospital was secure.

“And just to see him,” Deirdre said, eyes shining. “To look at someone born on a world other than Earth.”

Despite the tightness in his chest, Travis laughed. “You know, they put their breeches on one leg at a time just like we do.” All the same, he understood her.

However, instead of Beltan, the Seekers had found a crime scene. Travis and Grace listened in silence as the two Seekers described what had happened last night—and
what had been kept from the hospital staff until that morning, not long after Travis’s shift had ended.

Just after 7:00
P.M.
, a resident and a nurse ran to Room CA-423 in answer to a heart-monitor alarm. However, when they entered the room, they did not find what they expected: the coma patient seizing, or perhaps dead. Instead, the patient’s bed had been empty. IV tubes and monitor leads had been torn out. Only as they came around the bed had they seen the other in the room: the real code blue.

“He was a third-year resident at the hospital,” Farr said, flipping through a file folder. “His name was … his name was Dr. Rohan Chandra.”

Grace nodded. “I knew him. Not well, of course.” A sigh escaped her, but she seemed completely unaware of it. “I suppose I didn’t know anyone at the hospital well. But he was a smart man, a bit more interested in research than in patient care, but he was always kind.”

Travis’s head throbbed. “I don’t understand. What does this doctor have to do with Beltan?”

“Actually, nothing.” Deirdre turned so she could face Travis, her black-leather jacket creaking. “As far as we can tell, Dr. Chandra had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You mean he got in the way,” Travis said, and a sickness filled him. “He got in the way of the people who took Beltan, and they disposed of him.”

“What was the cause of death?” Grace said, her haunted eyes belying the clinical tone of her question.

Farr took a photograph from the folder and handed it to her. It showed a swollen lump on the doctor’s forearm, marked by a pair of tiny holes.

Grace frowned, tucking a lock of ash-blond hair behind one ear. “I don’t understand. This looks like some sort of insect bite. Maybe a spider.”

Farr took the photograph and returned it to the file. “Your diagnosis is correct, Dr. Beckett. The initial autopsy
performed this morning suggests that the spider bite introduced a highly potent neurotoxin into Dr. Chandra’s bloodstream. He was dead within ten seconds of being bitten.”

“No.” Grace crossed her arms over her sweater, even though it was warm in the vehicle. “That’s not possible. I remember reading about this in my toxicology class in med school. The venom of some spiders can be fatal, but none of them can kill a man that quickly. Not even a small man like Chandra.”

Farr slipped the folder back into a briefcase. “Your old professor may need to revise his course curriculum, Dr. Beckett.” He opened a small cabinet set into the side of the limousine. “Can I offer anyone some gin?”

Travis hated gin. He nodded. Farr handed him a glass, then made another drink for Grace, but she held it in her hand without seeming to notice its weight or coldness. Travis raised his own glass, held his breath, and drank.

“So who did it?” Grace said. “Who took him?”

Farr met her eyes. “There is only one organization I know of who would use murder to gain an otherworldly specimen.”

Grace turned on him, speaking with a sudden vehemence that shocked them all.

“He’s not a specimen, Mr. Farr. He’s a man. His name is Beltan of Calavan. He’s a knight of a royal house. He likes to drink beer and tell bad jokes, and he is kind and strong and courageous. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a lab rat. Not by anyone.”

And what’s more, I love him
, Travis almost said. But he had never uttered those words aloud. And if anyone should ever hear them for the first time, it should be Beltan.

Farr regarded Grace for a silent moment, then gave a crisp nod. “Of course. You must forgive me, Dr. Beckett. Sometimes I can be impersonal with regard to people I do not know. The mind of a scientist. I think you can understand.”

Grace looked out the window and said nothing.

“So it was Duratek,” Travis said, more to himself than to the others. “But how did they know Beltan was at the hospital? As far as we know, they don’t even know we’re in Denver.”

“They do now, Travis,” Deirdre said, her eyes serious above high cheekbones. “At least, we have to assume they do. We don’t dare underestimate them.”

“The police,” Grace murmured. She turned back from the window and met the questioning stares of the Seekers. “I think the police are looking for me. A patrol car nearly stopped us this morning, on our way to the museum.”

Farr rubbed his chin. “That would fit. Duratek often works in association with law enforcement. On the surface, at least, they appear law-abiding.”

A bitter smile twisted Grace’s lips. “While I, on the other hand, am a dangerous criminal.”

“I know this might be difficult for you to believe, Dr. Beckett,” Farr said, “but it is actually a good sign that the police are searching for you. It means Duratek knows you’re in the city, but not your exact location. The hospital is one place where they might expect to find you. That could explain why they discovered your friend.”

Grace pressed a hand to her forehead. “Of course—I was an idiot to go. I checked on Beltan myself yesterday morning, and then that night he’s abducted. I didn’t think anyone recognized me, but someone must have seen me enter his room.”

“Duratek does have a way of making people recall things,” Farr said, his expression grim.

Grace reached a hand toward Travis, then started to pull it away. “I’m so sorry, Travis. I …”

He caught her hand before she could withdraw it. “It’s not your fault, Grace. None of this is your fault. Besides, it could have been me that someone at the hospital recognized.”

“No, I don’t think so.” It was Deirdre who spoke, her voice low and thoughtful. “You’re different, Travis. I
don’t think anyone would recognize you if they didn’t know you well. It’s almost like you’re …”

“Like I’m a whole new person.” But he had no more words beyond that.

Finally Grace drew in a breath. “I still don’t understand how Duratek could use a spider to murder Dr. Chandra. It seems awfully risky. After all, you can’t tell the thing whom to bite. Have they used spiders before?”

Farr leaned back. “To our knowledge they have not.”

Travis felt gentle pressure as the shadowy world slowed outside the windows. He peered through the smoky glass. They were just two blocks from the Blue Sky Motel, where he and Grace had been staying.

“Now what?” he said.

Farr sat up straight. “Now you and Grace must remain hidden while Deirdre and I work to discover where Duratek has taken your friend.”

Travis opened his mouth to protest, but Deirdre spoke first.

“It’s better this way, Travis. It’s too dangerous for you and Grace to be moving about the city right now. It’s quite possible that Duratek is using Beltan as a lure to get you and Grace.”

Grace looked at him. “She’s right, Travis.”

Farr rolled down the window a few inches and gazed at the litter-strewn street. “Do you know if anyone has followed you to your motel?”

Travis shrugged. “I doubt we’d be sitting here with you now if someone had.”

“Good point,” Farr conceded, as the window whirred shut. “Then I suppose this is as good a place as any for you to remain. We’ll be posting a pair of operatives to keep watch. We’ll call you with descriptions so you won’t be alarmed when you see them. Also, we’ll arrange for your meals to be brought to you, so you don’t need to leave your room.”

“This is starting to sound suspiciously like prison.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Wilder,” Farr said in his smooth, accentless voice, “you can leave any time you wish. Just remember what is waiting for you if you do.”

Travis clenched his hands. What use was freedom with choices like that?

“It’s best if you walk back to your room from here,” Deirdre said. “I have a feeling most patrons of the Blue Sky don’t get dropped off by limousines. We’ll watch to make sure you get there.”

“Thank you,” Grace said. “Both of you.”

Her eyes glowed green-gold as she regarded the Seekers. It almost seemed she was enjoying herself. But even on Eldh, Grace had always been better at spying and secret plots. All Travis wanted to do was find Beltan and get back to Eldh. He opened the limousine door.

Deirdre touched his arm. “May the wind guide you, Travis.”

He nodded, then stepped out of the vehicle. Grace followed him, and the door shut. The limousine rolled away, as long and sleek as a serpent, then disappeared around a corner.

“They’ll find him,” Grace said, her voice resonating with belief.

Travis said nothing so she wouldn’t hear the doubt in his own. They turned to walk back to the motel.

Motion caught the corner of Travis’s eye. A fragment of shadow seemed to detach itself from the space between two buildings and glide toward them. He almost thought he saw two glints of gold. Then the air rippled, and the shadow was gone.

Grace touched his shoulder. “What is it, Travis?”

He gazed a moment longer into empty air, then turned away. “It’s nothing,” he said.

Three days later, Deirdre looked up from the glowing screen of a sleek, silver notebook computer as the door of their suite at the Brown Palace Hotel opened and Hadrian Farr stepped through. He looked haggard and shockingly thin, wearing the same wrinkled clothes as when he had departed just twenty-four hours earlier.

“You look like hell,” she observed, then returned her gaze to the computer screen. She had just connected to the Seekers’ main computer system in London to view the results of the analysis she had initiated her last morning in London. The Seeker labs had just completed it. Crimson words scrolled across the screen.

“I go to London and come back to Denver in the space of a day, and that’s all the welcome I get?” Farr threw his leather satchel on the sofa, tossed a much-worried newspaper on the table, and moved to the room’s minibar. He pulled out a miniature bottle of scotch and twisted the cap.

“You know, those little things are perversely expensive,” Deirdre said, her eyes still on the screen. She clicked a button, and a progress bar appeared:
Downloading …

Farr snorted. “Good. It’s on the Seekers.” He drained the bottle in one draught, grabbed another, and flopped into a chair, scowling at her. Farr was one of those men who looked dangerously handsome when he scowled.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me how it went?” he said.

She watched the progress bar: 32% complete. “I already know how it went.”

“What do you mean, you already know? I just got off the bloody plane.”

“Yes, after a nine-hour flight. In the meantime I used this fascinating little invention called the telephone. Have you heard about it?” 74% complete. “Anyway, Sasha told me everything. Congratulations. It looks like we’re still in business.”

Farr grunted, then struggled to open the second bottle. He gave up, tossed it down beside him. “By God, I hate hotel rooms.”

“Well, right now your hatred is costing the Seekers four hundred American a night. So be sure to make the very most of it.”

Data started to stream across the screen: small bars, each representing specific genetic loci. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Deirdre watched them go by, letting her eyes drift out of focus as if she might somehow see patterns if she did.

“Anyway,” Deirdre said, “I fail to see what you’re so upset about. They approved your invocation of the Ninth Desideratum, didn’t they?”