The Night Shifters (13 page)

“Oh – “ Suddenly I
was too flummoxed to think straight. “Well I don’t – I can’t really
think of anything I – “

He laughed. “You
don’t believe I’m one of the important players, is that it? I’m not
one of the Big Five.”

Five.
Sir John, The
Masked Man, The Car King, Nostradamus, and Camilla. “Serena isn’t
either, but everyone seems to be scared of her.”

He nodded.
“Here’s something I can tell you. Every single person you meet here
is someone with their own powers and desires, someone capable of –
perhaps not
shifting
the Night,
but at least shaping it.”

“Jeez, even my
boss, Mr. Quail?”

“Actually, you just
found the flaw in my statement. Some of the people you’ll encounter
aren’t really here. They’re asleep. After a while, you’ll know who
they are.

“Adoni and I are –
friends – and we have some influence when we work together.
Alliances are very important here. But many people prefer to be
alone, and they aren’t helpless.”

I let my eyes
wander toward the strange houses again. “How many people are we
talking about, here?”

“I’m not sure.
Perhaps a few thousand.”

The car
climbed until I looked over the side of the road at a gulf of
stars. “Just what do you all
do
here?
Besides chase me around.”

“We love, hate,
make war, have parties. We react to the new games woven by friends
and foes. We see marvelous, impossible things. Sometimes we kill
each other. And sometimes we die of natural causes.”

“Permanently?”

“
Yes. But – “
He tossed his cigarette out the window and fished out a new one.
“
But
– not for a long time. A very long
time.”

“How long is long
when the sun never comes up?”

“Precisely. You put
your finger on it back there, you know, concerning love and work
and so on. Some people are just ripe for Possibility.”

I looked at Adoni’s
eyes in the rearview. They were lovely, jaded, and
disinterested.

“You haven’t asked
me the most important thing,” said Med. “You really like to take
things as they come. I hardly know how to talk to you.”

“What haven’t I
asked you?”

“Why did you wake
up without your memory? And who took it from you?”

I thought for a
moment. “Maybe Serena took it from me. She’s the one who keeps
sending me the letters.”

“Yes, I think she
did it too.” He took a long drag and exhaled, luxuriously.

“But why?” I
prompted.

“Because there is
something important she doesn’t want you to remember. Something
threatening to her. People who are afraid, can be deadly. Ah, here
we come to our destination.”

We climbed up a
long drive, to the house of the stone lions and the golden windows
I had seen from Camilla’s tree house. My crystal heart began to
beat harder.

But no one opened
the door for me. Instead, Med gave me a long, hard look. He seemed
to be weighing something.

“
One more
thing,” he said, at last. “You were right to think the City of
Night was made for dreamers. But that’s not the
only
reason you’re here.”

I kept silent,
afraid he would change his mind and stop talking if I looked too
eager to hear what he had to say. He considered me a little longer,
then said, “You recall I mentioned that dreamers come here.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Your mother was
one of those dreamers. She came here once. And that was all it
took.”

Before I could ask
him what he meant by that, he got out and walked around to my side
of the car. He opened the door. “Your cheeks are nicely pink. I’m
sure the Masked Man will like that.”

The subject seemed
to have been permanently changed. So I got out. “Thank you. I guess
I owe you a favor now.”

He shook his head.
“No, I owed this favor to another. You and I will make our own
agreements some day. I hope you feel good will toward me – I
suspect your good will is worth having.” He gave me a small bow and
a courtly (if unenthusiastic) smile. “One more piece of advice.
Remember that we are all dreamers here. But some of us have
nightmares. Ciao.” He climbed back into the car. I watched it
disappear down the drive.

Your mother was
one of those dreamers.

It had taken every
ounce of restraint I could muster not to ask him to explain that.
Anywhere else, I would have demanded more answers. But Med had told
me more than any other Night Shifter, so much I sensed I had come
close to getting into serious debt with him. That last bit about my
mom was a gift; all he asked for in exchange was good will. I felt
inclined to give it to him.

Promise me you’ll
never give up on your dreams.

Maybe Mom had
done exactly that. She had been here once, and,
That was all it took.

All it took to
scare her away? Or all it took to make her regret leaving? Because
this place had its rewards, despite the dangers. Possibly even
because of them.

I turned to face
the front door of the Masked Man’s house.

•

Knock on the first door you find
, Serena had advised. But it was the second door I
wanted to open.

The door was about
twice as tall as it needed to be, and carved of a wood so hard it
looked almost like metal. Scenes of war and love covered its
surface, but I couldn’t tell what history they belonged to. Not
exactly Greek in style. Not Roman, Egyptian, or Etruscan, or Celtic
– but somehow like all of those. Not that I was an expert in such
things (as far as I could remember). It made me nervous. And it
intrigued the hell out of me. I gazed at it, contemplating Charlie
Brown and his Football of Doom.

If I trusted the
Masked Man, would he yank the football out of my reach? Judging by
everything else that had happened, that seemed very possible.

But what if he
didn’t? Sooner or later, even a pinball has to trust her instincts
and hope for the best.

“Oh, the hell with
it.” I used the big knocker to make the door sound like a gigantic
drum. It swung wide open, seemingly by itself, and I entered the
hall. Down at the far end, a hundred feet away at least, a golden
light danced. Framed in the doorway, the light behind him, the
Masked Man sat on a roughly carved throne. He didn’t move.

“Hello,” I called.
“I’m here! Nice throne.”

He didn’t
answer.

I could feel my
heart accelerating and heat rising to my cheeks, turning them from
pink to red. “May I come in?” I asked the distant figure of the
Masked Man.

Still he didn’t
answer. But the hall began to take on a light of its own. It
started down at his end and grew until it lapped at my feet.

“I’ll take that as
a yes.” I stepped into the light. My new shoes went tap-tap-tap on
the marble floor as I walked down the long hallway to an arch
framed with more carved wood. It invited me into a vast room with a
fireplace twice as big as Sir John’s, and in the middle of the room
the Masked Man sat on his throne. He never moved or blinked while I
approached him.

“Are you going to
speak to me?” I asked.

Apparently he
wasn’t. In fact, his eyes looked right through me. I went closer
and put my hand on his bare arm.

Cold marble chilled
my fingers and I gave a little cry of surprise. He was a statue, so
beautifully carved, so lifelike, that I had thought he was real up
until the moment I touched him.

The statue wore
real clothes, an Egyptian kilt and bronze arm bands. The mask
looked bronze too. My hand crept up to it, almost of its own
volition, and I pulled the mask from the statue’s face.

Only amber eyes
remained. The rest of the face was perfectly smooth,
featureless.

“The Nameless God
is Faceless.” I put the mask back where it belonged.

I felt
uncomfortable looking at the statue after that, so I explored the
rest of the room. Or started to, anyway; I didn’t get past the
table near the fireplace, a huge, rough-hewn thing that looked fit
for a king and his war council. Someone had set it with steaming
plates of food. A chair stood out, invitingly. I went closer,
waiting for and dreading that warning pang from my heart. But it
never came.

Plump fruit tempted
me from a platter, so I sat in the chair and pulled a grape off a
bunch. No pang. I ate the grape. My mouth filled with a sharp,
sweet taste. I had another, then another, and no pangs
followed.

Next I tried the
bread, the beef with peanut sauce and broccoli, the blueberry pie.
My heart never pained me, but began to feel warm and tingly. After
that I didn’t worry any longer, just ate until I wasn’t hungry
anymore, and then perhaps a little longer.

Finally I poured
myself a cup of red wine and stared at the fire until I began to
get sleepy. The food and plates disappeared into thin air, though
my supper still seemed to be sitting happily in my stomach.

“Masked Man,” I
said aloud, “do you have a guest room?”

A golden voice
said, “Yes,” and two warm hands touched my shoulders.

I couldn’t make
myself look around. I was afraid to see the featureless face. How
could he speak without a mouth? But his hands felt strong enough to
pull me away from the Car King.

“There will always
be a room for you in my house, Hazel.” One of his hands withdrew,
and he set a small box on the table. “Another gift.”

Inside rested
silver earrings, dangling tiny flowers, impossibly life-like and
delicate. Too delicate for me. And too beautiful. But were they
really beautiful, or did I just
think
they
were? I looked and looked, but if there was a glamour at work, I
couldn’t see through it.

“Please put them
on,” he said.

I did, and he
touched them, making them tinkle. “Perfect. Now look at me.”

I took a deep
breath, stood, and turned to look at him.

He was dressed like
his statue, complete with mask. He towered over me, his chin level
with the top of my head. His warm eyes looked down the plunging
neckline of my dress. “You’re wearing that for me.”

“Camilla loaned it
to me,” I said breathlessly. I wished she could have loaned me her
cool, too.

“Are you afraid?”
he asked.

“Yes.”

“You can leave now,
if you want.”

But he knew I
didn’t want to do anything of the kind. I could feel the wine
pulling at my limbs, forcing me to relax.

“I’d like to see my
room,” I said.

He took my hand and
put his other arm around my waist – then guided me toward the
stairs, all in one move, like a dancer. As we climbed the marble
stairs I said, “Your house seems so – ancient. Like another time, I
mean.”

“It reminds me of
my childhood,” he said.

That didn’t sound
impossible. After all, the Masked Man was a god. Though for a god,
his skin felt very warm and human. I hoped he had other human
attributes as well. Just thinking about it made me tingle from head
to toe. The Masked Man held me tighter as we walked down a long
hall at the top of the stairs with walls that looked like they had
been carved out of living stone.

The hall opened
into other rooms, but I only had eyes for the closed door at the
far end. That was my room. I recognized it as well as if I had been
living there for years. We stopped before the closed door, and the
Masked Man said, “Only you can open the door to your room,
Hazel.”

I turned the
handle, a brass lion’s head. The door swung open to reveal a dim
interior, lit only by the stars in the large window on the far side
of the room. Starlight fell across my bed, a graceful thing of
dark, carved wood covered with a spread of white fur. It looked
large enough for two and then some.

“Can we turn on a
light?” My eyes found other tantalizing details in the shadows.

“Not while I’m
here,” said the Masked Man.

Suddenly I felt
nervous, partly because I knew he was going to make love to me and
partly because he had reminded me of the faceless statue
downstairs. I went to my bed and looked down at it, hugging my arms
so my hands wouldn’t shake. I could feel him looking at my back.
The dress was revealing there, too.

I heard him close
the door. A moment later I felt a warm presence at my back, almost
but not quite touching. “You refused Camilla’s love.” His breath
warmed my ear.

“Yes.”

“And the Car
King’s. That was difficult, I’m sure.”

“He scared me.”

“You have good
instincts, Hazel.”

“You just say that
because I’m not refusing you.”

His hands touched
my shoulders again. He turned me to face him, and I looked into
amber eyes. He reached up to his mask, lifted it away from his
face. He dropped it on the floor, but I still couldn’t see anything
but those eyes in the darkness. They had a light of their own. They
loomed closer. He leaned down to kiss me. I couldn’t stop shaking,
and I couldn’t pull away either. I waited for his smooth, mouthless
face to touch mine.

Instead I felt warm
lips and a warmer tongue, teasing me, and a nose nuzzled my own. I
felt so relieved I just went limp in his arms, and he laughed. “Is
that better? No more fears?”

I touched his face
in the darkness and felt the same high cheekbones I had seen on the
members of the Wild Hunt. He caught his breath when I did that, and
I think he almost pulled my hands away, but at the last moment he
relaxed and let me explore.

“I want to know
about you too.” He peeled my dress off my shoulders. It dropped at
my feet, and his hands did to my body what I had done to his face.
He touched as if he were as blind as I, but I doubted that. His
glowing eyes could see every inch of me.