“Just for dogs and wizards, I suppose!” she snapped back angrily.
“Elizabeth…”
“Don’t try to make up to me!” There was hurt now in her eyes. “I am not a child, Abernathy! You shouldn’t call me one!”
“I was just trying to make a point. I think you would…”
“How are you going to get out of here without me?” she demanded again, cutting him short.
“There are certainly ways that…”
“There are? How? Name one. Just one. Tell me how you’re going to get out. Go on, tell me!”
He took a deep breath, his strength deserting him. “I don’t know,” he admitted wearily.
She nodded in satisfaction. “Do you still like me, Abernathy?”
“Yes, of course I do, Elizabeth.”
“And would you help me if I needed helping, no matter what?”
“Yes, of course.”
She bent forward against the bars of the cage until her nose was only inches from his. “Well, that’s how I feel about you, too! That’s why I can’t just leave you here!”
The dogs began barking again, more insistent this time, and someone yelled at them to shut up. Elizabeth began backing away toward the alcove.
“Finish your food so you’ll stay strong, Abernathy!” she whispered hurriedly. “Shhh, shhhh!” she cautioned when he tried to speak. “Just be patient! I’ll find a way to get you out!”
She paused halfway through the break in the wall, a slight shadow in the half-light. “Don’t worry, Abernathy! It’ll be all right!”
Then she was gone, the break disappearing once more into blackness.
The barking down the hall was punctuated by several sharp yelps and then faded slowly into silence. Abernathy listened for a time, then pulled out the medallion from beneath his tunic, and studied it silently.
He was scared to death for Elizabeth. He wished he knew what to do about her. He wished he could find some way to protect her.
After a time, he put the medallion back in place again. Then he uncovered the rest of his food and slowly began to eat.
Charades
Ben Holiday squinted through the glare of the hot Nevada sun in total disbelief. Massive hotel and casino signs lined the street in both directions, jutting up against the cloudless desert horizon like some bizarre, twentieth-century Druidic Stonehenge, garish even without the dance of the bright, flashy lighting that would come with nightfall. The Sands. Caesar’s Palace. The Flamingo.
“Las Vegas,” he whispered. “For crying out loud, what are we doing in Las Vegas?”
His mind raced. He had assumed that when he was transported from Landover into his old world, he would emerge just as he always did when coming out of the fairy mists into the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. He had assumed, quite reasonably he thought, that Abernathy must have been dispatched to that same point when the magic went awry. But now, it seemed, he had been wrong on both counts. The magic must have gone sufficiently bonkers to send them both to the other end of the country!
Unless…
Oh, no, Ben thought. Unless Questor had messed up yet again and sent Abernathy to one place and Willow and him to another!
He caught himself. He wasn’t thinking this through clearly. The magic had exchanged Abernathy and the medallion for the bottle and the Darkling. Abernathy would have been sent to wherever the bottle was being kept by Michel Ard Rhi—assuming Michel still had the bottle. In any case, Abernathy would have been sent to whomever it was that had the bottle. And Ben had asked Questor to send him to wherever Abernathy was. So maybe Las Vegas was exactly the place he was supposed to be.
Willow still had her body turned into him protectively, but she brought her face up from his shoulder long enough to whisper, “Ben, I don’t like all this noise!”
The strip was jammed with cars even at midday, the air filled with the sounds of engines, horns, brakes and tires, and shouts from everywhere. Cabs zipped past and a descending airliner passed overhead with a frightening roar.
Ben glanced around once more, still confused. Passersby and motorists were beginning to rubberneck in his direction. Must be the jogging suits, he thought at first, then realized it was nothing of the sort. It was Willow. It was a girl with emerald green hair that tumbled to her waist and flawless sea-green skin. Even in Las Vegas, Willow was an oddity.