Standing where his brother had left him, Shep chanted, ‘Sparkle, twinkle, scintillation—’
Before frustration could build to head-exploding pressure, Dylan opened the door, carried the suitcases outside. The night continued to be as warm as a toaster oven, as parched as a burnt crust.
A dry drizzle of yellow lamplight fell on the largely empty parking lot, soaked into the pavement, was absorbed as efficiently by the blacktop as light might be captured by the heavy gravity of a black hole in space. Broad blades of sharp-edged shadows lent the night a quality of guillotine expectancy, but Dylan could see that the motel grounds did not yet seethe with the squads of promised pistol-packing killers.
His white Ford Expedition was parked nearby. Bolted to the roof, a watertight container held artist’s supplies as well as finished paintings that he had offered for sale at a recent art festival in Tucson (where five pieces had sold) and would offer also in Santa Fe and at similar events thereafter.
As he opened the tailgate and quickly loaded the suitcases into the SUV, he looked left and right, and behind himself, leery of being assaulted again, as though crazed physicians armed with enormous syringes full of stuff could be expected to travel in packs as surely as did coyotes in desert canyons, wolves in forests primeval, and personal-injury attorneys at any prospect of product liability.
When he returned to the motel room, he found Shep where he had left him: standing in his stocking feet, eyes closed, exhibiting his annoyingly impressive vocabulary. ‘—fluorescence, phosphorescence, bioluminescence—’
Dylan hurried to the desk, broke apart the finished portion of the jigsaw, and scooped double handfuls of Shinto temple and cherry trees into the waiting box. He preferred to save time by leaving the puzzle, but he felt certain that Shep would refuse to go without it.
Shepherd surely heard and recognized the distinctive sound of pasteboard pieces being tumbled together in a pile of soft rubble. Ordinarily, he would have moved at once to protect his unfinished project, but not this time. Eyes closed, he continued urgently to recite the many names and forms of light:’—lightning, fulmination, flying flame, firebolt, oak-cleaving thunderbolts—’
Fitting the lid on the box, Dylan turned away from the desk and briefly considered his brother’s shoes. Rockport walkers, just like Dylan’s, but a few sizes smaller. Too much time would be required to get the kid to sit on the edge of the bed, to work his feet into the shoes, and to tie the laces. Dylan snatched them off the floor and placed them atop the puzzle box.
‘—candlelight, rushlight, lamplight, torchlight—’
The point of injection in Dylan’s left arm began to feel hot, and it itched. He resisted tearing off the cartoon-dog Band-Aid and scratching the puncture wound, because he feared that the colorful bandage concealed awful proof that the substance in the syringe had been worse than dope, worse than a mere toxic chemical, worse than any known disease. Under the little rectangle of gauze might wait a tiny but growing patch of squirming orange fungus or a black rash, or the first evidence that his skin had begun metamorphosing into green scales as he underwent a conversion from man to reptile. In full X-Files paranoia, he didn’t have the courage to discover the reason for the itch.
‘—firelight, gaslight, foxfire, fata morgana—’
Burdened with puzzle box and sibling footgear, Dylan hurried past Shep to the bathroom. He hadn’t yet unpacked their toothbrushes and shaving gear, but he’d left a plastic pharmacy bottle, containing a prescription antihistamine, on the counter beside the sink. Right now, allergies were the least of his problems; however, even if he were being eaten alive by a vile orange fungus and simultaneously morphing into a reptile, while also being hunted by vicious killers, a runny nose and a sinus headache were complications best avoided.
‘—chemiluminescence, crystalloluminescence, counterglow, Gegenschein—’
Returning from the bathroom, Dylan said hopefully, ‘Let’s go, Shep. Go, now, come on, move.’
‘—violet ray, ultraviolet ray—’
‘This is serious, Shep.’
‘—infrared ray—’
‘We’re in trouble here, Shep.’
‘—actinic ray—’
‘Don’t make me be mean,’ Dylan pleaded.
‘—daylight, dayshine—’
‘Please don’t make me be mean.’