A Knight of the Word by Terry Brooks

She smiled and went out the door, blowing him a kiss. He stared after her without moving, then pushed the pens and paper away and got to his feet. Might as well follow through on his plan and get out of there, he decided. He was already back to thinking about something else Nest had said – that a demon in Pioneer Square was killing homeless people in the underground city. No one would miss them; no one would know. Except the feeders, of course. And he didn’t see the feeders much anymore, so he couldn’t tell if their current behaviour reflected the demon’s presence or not.

He stared down at his desk, unseeing. Sometimes he was tempted to try out his magic, just for a minute, just to see if hr still had the use of it. If he did that, he might see the feeders clearly and maybe be able to determine if there was a demon in their midst.

But he refused to do than He had sworn an oath that he wouldn’t, because using magic was integral to acting as a Knight of the Word, and he had given all that up.

He walked out of his office, down the hall, past Della and a duster of new arrivals huddled about her desk, and through the front door. The midday sunshine was fading, masked by heavy clouds blown in from the west on a sharp wind. The air had turned cold and brittle, and the light was autumn grey and pale. He glanced skyward. A storm was moving in. There would be rain by tonight.

His thoughts drifted.

A demon in Pioneer Square.

Someone sent to kill him.

Someone sent to subvert him.

The Word and the Void at play.

He crossed the street and moved past Waterfall Park toward the doorway to his apartment building. The waterfall tumbled down aver the massive rocks and filled the walled enclosure with white noise. The park was empty, the afternoon shadows falling long and dark over the tables and chairs, benches and planters, and fountains. He didn’t like how the emptiness made him feel. He didn’t care for the thoughts it provoked. It seemed to reflect something inside.

In the shadows pooled among the boulders of the waterfall, something moved. The movement was quick and furtive, but unmistakable. Feeders. He paused to look more closely, to spy them out, but he could not do so. Those days were gone. He was someone different now. Something rough-edged brushed up against his memory-a reluctance, a wistfulness, a regret. The past had a way of creeping into the present, and his attempts at separating the two were still difficult. Even now. Even here.

Why had Nest Freemark been sent to him?

For just a moment he experienced an almost overpowering urge to flee. Just pack his bags, pick up Stefanie, and catch the first bus out of town. He stood facing into the park, and the movement in the shadows seemed to be reaching for him. He felt trapped in his life and by his decisions, and he could feel his control over things slipping away.

Then the moment passed. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and he was all right again. He studied the shadows and saw nothing. The park was still and empty. He felt foolish and slightly embarrassed. He supposed he was not yet entirely free of the emotional fallout of San Sobel. He guessed that’s what it was.

That was what he told himself as he turned away from the park and went down the sidewalk. That was how he dismissed the matter.

But deep inside, where hunches and instinct kept separate counsel, he wasn’t really sure.

CHAPTER 15

After Two Bears disappeared. Nest Freemark sat back down on the bench they had shared and stared out at the bay. Her thoughts kept returning to five years ago when she had first met him. She kept trying to reconcile what she remembered from then with what she knew from now. She kept trying to make the parts fit.

I fought in Vietnam. I walked and slept with death; I knew her as I would a lover. I was young before, but afterward I was very old. I died in the Nam so many times, I lost count. But I killed a lot of men, too.

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