“I don’t know. I suppose that the longer I wait the more likely it is that the person behind last night’s business will get restless and maybe send more muscle.”
She took hold of my arm and turned, so that she was suddenly pressed against me. I was somewhat surprised by the act, but my free arm automatically moved to hold the lady as it tends to on such occasions.
“You weren’t planning on leaving now, were you? Because if you are, I’m going with you.”
“No,” I answered truthfully. Actually, I’d been thinking of departing the following morning, following a good night’s sleep.
“When, then? We still have a lot of things to talk about.”
“I think we’ve pushed the question-and-answer business about as far as you’re willing to let it go.”
“There are some things-“
“I know.”
Awkward, this. Yes, she was desirable. And no, I didn’t care to have anything to do with her that way. Partly because I felt she wanted something else as well-what, I wasn’t sure-and partly because I was certain she possessed a peculiar power to which I did not wish to expose myself at intimate range. As my Uncle Suhuy used to say, speaking technically as a sorcerer, “If you don’t understand it, don’t screw around with it.” And I had a feeling that anything beyond a friendly acquaintanceship with Vinta could well turn into a duel of energies.
So I kissed her quickly to stay friendly and disengaged myself.
“Maybe I’ll head back tomorrow,” I told her.
“Good. I was hoping you’d spend the night. Perhaps several. I will protect you.”
“Yes, I’m still very tired,” I said.
“We’ll have to feed you a good meal and build up your strength.”
She brushed my cheek with her fingertips then, and I suddenly realized that I did know her from somewhere. Where? I couldn’t say. And that, too, frightened me. More than a little. As we mounted and headed back toward Arbor House I began making my plans for getting out of there that night.
So, sitting in my room, sipping a glass of my absent host’s wine (the red) and watching the candles flicker in the breeze from an opened window, I waited-first for the house to grow quiet (which it had), then for a goodly time to pass. My door was latched. I had mentioned how tired I felt several times during dinner, and then I had retired early. I am not so egotistically male that I feel myself constantly lusted after, but Vinta had given indication that she might stop by and I wanted the excuse of heavy sleeping. Least of all did I wish to offend her. I had problems enough without turning my strange ally against me.
I wished I still had a good book about, but I’d left my last one at Bill’s place, and if I were to summon it now I did not know but that Vinta might sense the sending, just as Fiona had once known I was creating a Trump, and come pounding on the door to see what the hell was going on.
But no one came pounding, and I listened to the creakings of a quiet house and the night sounds without. The candles shortened themselves and the shadows on the wall behind the bed ebbed and Howed like a dark tide beyond their swaying light. I thought my thoughts and sipped my wine. Pretty soon.
. . .
An imagining? Or had I just heard my name whispered from some undetectable place?
“Merle. . . .”
Again.
Real, but
My vision seemed to swim for a moment, and then I realized it for what it was: a very weak Trump contact.
“Yes,” I said, opening and extending. “Who is it?”
“Merle, baby. . . . Give me a hand or I’ve had it. . . .”
Luke!
“Right here,” I said, reaching, reaching, as the image grew clear, solidified.
He was leaning, his back against a wall, shoulders slumped, head hanging.
“If this is a trick, Luke, I’m ready for it,” I told him. I rose quickly and, crossing to the table where I had laid my blade, I drew it and held it ready.