I loped back to the thicket. The Svartalf cat scratched at me and zoomed up a tree. Virginia Graylock started, her pistol sprang into her hand, then she relaxed and laughed a bit nervously. I could work the flash hung about my neck, even as I was, but it went more quickly with her fingers.
“Well?” she asked when I was human again. “What’d you find out?”
I described the situation, and saw her frown and bite her lip. It was really too shapely a lip for such purposes. “Not so good,” she reflected. “I was afraid of something like this.”
“Look,” I said, “can you locate that afreet in a hurry?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve studied at Congo U. and did quite well at witch‑smelling. What of it?”
“If I attack one of those guards and make a racket doing it, their main attention will be turned that way. You should have an even chance to fly across the line unobserved, and once you’re in the town your Tarnkappe‑”
She shook her red head. “I didn’t bring one. Their detection systems are as good as ours. Invisibility is actually obsolete.”
“Mmm‑yeah I suppose you’re right. Well, anyhow, you can take advantage of the darkness to get to the afreet house. From there on, you’ll have to play by ear.”
“I suspected we’d have to do something like this,” she replied. With a softness that astonished me: “But Steve, that’s a long chance for you to take.”
“Not unless they hit me with silver, and most of their cartridges are plain lead. They use a tracer principle like us; every tenth round is argent. I’ve got a ninety percent probability of getting home free.”
“You’re a liar,” she said. “But a brave liar.”
I wasn’t brave at all. It’s inspiring to think of Valley Forge, or the Alamo, or San Juan Hill or Casablanca where our outnumbered Army stopped three Panther divisions of von Ogerhaus’ Afrika Korps‑but only when you’re safe and comfortable yourself. Down underneath the antipanic geas, a cold knot was in my guts. Still, I couldn’t see any other way to do the job, and failure to attempt it would mean court‑martial.
“I’ll run their legs off once they start chasing me,” I told her. “When I’ve shaken ’em, I’ll try to circle back and join you.”
“Okay.” Suddenly she rose on tiptoe and kissed me. The impact was explosive.
I stood for a moment, looking at her. “What are you doing Saturday night?” I asked, a mite shakily.
She laughed. “Don’t get ideas, Steve. I’m in the Cavalry.”
“Yeah, but the war won’t last forever.” I grinned at her, a reckless fighting grin that made her eyes linger. Acting experience is often useful.
We settled the details as well as we could. She herself had no soft touch: the afreet would be well guarded, and was plenty dangerous in itself. The chances of us both seeing daylight were nothing to feel complacent about.
I turned back to wolf‑shape and licked her hand. She rumpled my fur. I slipped off into the darkness.
I had chosen a sentry well off the highway, across which there would surely be barriers. A man could be seen to either side of my victim, tramping slowly back and forth. I glided behind a stump near the middle of his beat and waited for him.
When he came, I sprang. I caught a dark brief vision of eyes and teeth in the bearded face, I heard him yelp and smelled the upward spurt of his fear, then we shocked together. He went down on his back, threshing, and I snapped for the throat. My jaws closed on his arm, and blood was hot and salty on my tongue.
He screamed again. I sensed the call oing down the line. The two nearest Saracens ran to Up. I tore out the gullet of the first man and bunched myself for a leap at the next.
He fired. The bullet went through me in a jag of pain and the impact sent me staggenn But he didn’t know how to deal with a were. He should have dropped on one knee and fired steadily till he got to the silver bullet; if necessary, he should have fended me off, even pinned me with his bayonet, while he shot. This one kept running toward me, calling on the Allah of his heretical sect.