Angel Fire East by Terry Brooks

All but him, of course.

There was no one else like him.

They came out of the blowing snow on a tree-sheltered flat, close back against the edge of the bluffs, and the Indian was waiting.

-=O=-***-=O=-

Nest made her way out of the maze of tombstones to the cemetery road and followed it back toward the park. The wind was gusting heavily and the snow blowing so hard it was impossible to see much more than a dozen yards. Banks of storm clouds rolled across the sky, and the light had dimmed to an iron gray that turned the landscape hazy and colorless.

“O’olish Amaneh,” she whispered to herself.

A dark shadow whizzed by her head, and she flinched from it automatically, dropping to a guarded crouch. The shadow was gone a moment and then it was back again, appearing out of the whirling snow in a rush of darkness. It was an owl, winging low across the tombstones and monuments, flattened out like a big kite. Without a sound, it flew right at her. At the last minute it banked away, and Pick dropped onto her shoulder with a grunt.

“Criminy, I can’t see a thing!” he grumbled, latching on to her collar and pulling himself into the warmth of its folds. “Cold up there, too. I might be made of twigs and leaves, but I’m frozen all the way through!”

“What are you doing?” she asked, coming back to her feet, looking at the white space where the owl had been a moment before.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m patrolling the park!”

“In this weather?” She exhaled sharply. “What is that supposed to accomplish?”

“You mean, besides possibly saving your life?” he snapped irritably. “Oh, right, I forgot. That was yesterday, wasn’t it? Guess I’m just wasting my time out here today.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She hadn’t seen him since last night’s incident and had forgotten that she hadn’t thanked him. “What can I say? I’m an ingrate. You did save my life. All of our lives, for that matter.”

She could feel him puff up. “You are entirely welcome.”

“I mean it. It’s belated, I know, but thanks.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m just a little distracted.”

He gestured impatiently. “Start walking. It’s freezing out here, and I have to see you safely home before I can take cover myself. Mr. Cask is still out here, and he has a couple of his demon cronies with him. They were watching you talk with the Indian.”

“With Two Bears?” She glanced around quickly.

“Don’t worry, they didn’t follow you. I was watching to make sure. Come on, keep moving, don’t be looking around like you didn’t know the way. I’ll keep watch for the both of us.”

She made her way to the fence and squeezed through the gap to the other side. Ahead, the park was a white blur. The residences to her left and the bayou and railroad tracks to her right had disappeared completely. But even in weather conditions as bad as this, she could find her way, the park as familiar to her as her own bedroom in darkest night. Head lowered against the stinging gusts of frozen snow and bitter wind, she moved down the road past the Indian mounds.

“Tell me what you know about last night,” she suggested, striding steadily forward.

“Not much to tell.” Pick was so light she could barely tell he was there. “I was patrolling the park on Jonathan, just like I always do when there’s trouble about. After what you’d told me about Mr. Cask, I knew he’d be back. Sure enough, I found him down by the ice, hiding in the trees. He didn’t seem to be doing anything, so I took Jonathan high up and out of sight. You went down the toboggan slide once or twice, and Mr. Gask watched. Then someone flashed a light up top by the loading platform, and our demon friend went down to the ice and touched it with his hand. When I saw the cracks start out toward the center, I could see where things were heading. You were already coming down, so I flew out to warn you.”

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