A feathered heap lay at the edge of the trees, wings splayed wide. Daniel. “He came right at me when I knocked the sylvan off his back,” the demon mused. “Can you imagine?”
He motioned vaguely at the cage. “You do know about syl-vans and cages, don’t you? Well, perhaps not. Sylvans can’t stand being caged. It drains away their spirit. Happens rather swiftly, as a matter of fact. A few hours, and that’s it. That will be the fate of your friend if someone doesn’t release him.”
Nest! Pick gasped in a frantic attempt to signal her. Then he went silent again, his voice choked off.
“Your little friend would like to say something to you about his condition, I’m sure,” the demon breathed softly, “but I think it best he save his strength. Don’t you?”
Nest felt alone and vulnerable, felt as if everything was being stripped from her. But that was the plan, wasn’t it? “Let him go!” she ordered, staring at the demon as if to melt him with the heat of her anger.
The demon nodded. “After you do what I tell you.” He paused. “Child of mine.”
Her skin crawled at the sound of his words, and a new wave of rage swept through her. “Don’t call me that!”
The demon smiled, satisfaction reflecting in his eyes. “You’ know then, don’t you? Who told you? Evelyn, before she died? The sylvan?” He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. That you know is what matters. That you appreciate the special nature of our relationship. Who you are will determine what you become, and that is what we are here to decide.”
He looked past her, suddenly startled. A hint of irritation flashed across his strange empty features. “Ah, it’s the bad penny. He’s turned up after all.”
John Ross emerged from the trees, sweat-streaked and hard-eyed. He seemed taller and broader than she remembered, and the black staff gleamed and shimmered with silver light. “Get behind me,” he said at once, his green eyes fixed on the demon.
“Oh, she doesn’t want to do that!” the demon sneered, and threw something dark and glittering at the ravaged oak.
Instantly the tree exploded in a shower of bark and wood splinters, and the green light trapped within burst forth.
Old Bob crossed to the fireworks from his home as the crow flies, not bothering with the service road or any of the pathways, the beam of his flashlight scanning the darkness before him-as he went. The weariness he had felt earlier fell away in the face of his fear, and a rush of adrenaline surged through him, infusing him with new strength. The sounds of laughter and conversation and the momentary flare of sparklers guided him through the broad expanse of the grassy flats, and in moments he had reached the rear edge of the crowd.
He began to ask at once if anyone had seen Mel Riorden. He knew most of the people gathered, and once he got close enough to make out their faces, he simply offered a perfunctory greeting and inquired about Mel. He was a big man with a no-nonsense way about him, a man who had just suffered a terrible loss, and those he spoke with were quick to reply. He moved swiftly in response, easing forward through the crowd toward the cordoned perimeter west of the slide. He was sweating freely, his underarms and back damp, his face flushed from his efforts. He did not have a definite plan. He was not even certain that he needed one. He might be mistaken about Deny Howe. He might be overreacting. If he was, fine. He would feel foolish, but relieved. He could live with that. He would find Derry, talk to him, possibly confront him with his suspicions, and deal with his feelings later.
He wove his way through knots of people sprawled on blankets and seated in lawn chairs, through darting children and ambling teens. The viewing area was packed. Some looked at him with recognition, and a few spoke. Some he stopped to talk with took time to offer condolences on his loss, but most simply answered his questions about Mel and let him go his way. His eyes flicked left and right as he proceeded, searching the darkness. He could no longer see the riverbank clearly, and the trees had faded into a black wall. The fireworks would begin any moment.