LUCKY ALLOWED Han to pull him away then, letting go of the connection with the alien being—for he understood now she’d come from another world. He dropped his hands to his sides, and the magic of Ciarrah and the Key of Behliseth continued to warm him for a brief moment as they faded. He wondered, when he became conscious of his own thoughts again, if he’d just had a dead being speak through him, but when he looked again, he realized the twin lights that had taken shape within her, green and pink, continued to pulse their heartbeat rhythm.
“She’s alive,” he said, and then all the energy drained away from him at once. He slumped to sit on the floor with his back against the pedestal under the slab.
Thurlock said, “Yes.”
Olana stood, touched Lucky’s head, then left the Night House without a word.
Han’s inquiry came to Lucky’s mind: “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Lucky said it aloud, because he was just too tired for the extra effort required to send a thought.
“What…. Oh, never mind. He was talking to you, I take it, Han?”
“Yes, sir. I asked him if he was all right.”
“Well, then ‘yes’ is a perfectly fine answer, but from the looks of you, Luccan, you need to rest. You need to sleep.”
“I know,” Lucky said, and hoped Thurlock would drop it for the time being, as he was too tired to move or explain.
After silence—more or less of the “considering things” variety—Thurlock said. “As to this being, here, she seems to have a heartbeat. I suppose we should try to keep it going, if for no other reason than simple humanity.”
Han nodded, but then his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips as he considered. “What Luccan said—I mean what she said through Luccan—about the children, and evil? She’s part of what’s going wrong.”
“I agree that’s likely, but we don’t know the degree of her involvement personally. And if we can keep her alive, we might be able to get more information from her. Could be useful.”
Han sighed. “Right, I suppose. Perhaps we should move her to the infirmary?”
Thurlock engaged in some wizardly beard-scratching, then wrapped the blanket around her as one would a child and picked her up in his arms.
Lucky rose laboriously.
Thurlock turned to him and said, “Luccan, I’ll have Han walk you back to my house. Please, do us all a favor and sleep. You’ll be okay. Han can wait with you until I get there, and then I’ll be with you myself.”
“’Kay,” Lucky said, far too tired to object, and followed Thurlock toward the door.
When Thurlock stopped suddenly, Lucky ran smack into him.
Thurlock hardly seemed to notice. “Look at the… let’s call it a ‘heart light,’ like in that movie we saw when we were in Earth, Han, remember?”
“E.T.,” Lucky and Han said together.
“Yes, E.T. Look,” he said again.
The lights, which had been pulsing slowly but evenly, now flashed rapidly and weakly, their rhythm erratic. Lucky, alarmed, drew in a breath to speak, but before he did, Thurlock stepped back toward where she had been lying, and the rhythm of the lights immediately began to resolve.
Thurlock grunted a speculative “Hm” and stepped toward the door again.
The lights went crazy again.
“Han,” Thurlock said. “Can you pick up the other…?”
“Alien,” Lucky said into the pause.
“Yes, good. Can you pick up the other alien and bring it along?”
Carrying the taller alien figure was a bigger job, and Lucky wondered how Han was going to do it. But Han didn’t hesitate, simply stooping, pulling the big creature’s arms over his shoulder, and standing up with the alien on his back—exactly the same as the “fireman’s carry” Henry had once shown Lucky.
This time Thurlock walked close behind Han as they exited the Night House, and the heart lights remained steady.
“Hold on a second, Han,” Thurlock said and then turned to Lucky. “Can you make it back to my house on your own? Han will be there shortly, and Henry’s already there—Maizie too.”
Instead of answering, Lucky, his voice rough with the need to sleep, asked, “Is the other one alive too, do you think?”
Thurlock asked, “What do you think?”
Lucky started to get annoyed that the wizard had answered a question with a question, but then he realized he’d done the same thing. He stopped to consider. “I… don’t think so, sir. I don’t think the big one is alive.”
Thurlock nodded in agreement. “I don’t think so either, but it seems there’s a… what did the scientists in Earth call it? Oh yes, a symbiosis, between the two. As if they were a pair that could only exist while in proximity to each other, and this little one, now, clings to life only as long as she’s close to the other—even though the other is dead. An interesting phenomenon—”
“I’m sure it is, sir,” Han said. “But this one is heavier than it looks.”
“Ah! Yes. Sorry, Han, I was rambling. Luccan,” he asked again, “will you be all right to go to my house alone?”
Lucky felt suddenly far too exhausted at this point to worry about anything at all, so he mumbled an affirmative “uh-huh” and set off across the Sisterhold grounds.
He made it with only a few stumbles all the way to the wizard’s threshold, then, just as he was about to push the door open, someone shouted, “Hey!” from not very far away. Something like fear came over Lucky like a wave. He was already throwing a fist as he turned and launched another punch and a savage kick in quick succession.
It was weird—he’d always been more of a flight, not fight, kind of guy, disliking violence and only resorting to it when unavoidable. Somewhere in Lucky’s mind he already regretted his reaction even before he realized that the person he’d attacked was Zhevi. Fortunately, Zhevi was fast enough the punches missed his head; he’d turned quickly to take them on his back. The kick then took him in the back of his knee, and he went down. He was bruised and not a little pissed, but nothing was broken.
“Crap, Luccan! When did you start hating me?”
But the energy that had exploded in Lucky with an infusion of adrenaline had drained away as quickly as it had come, and he sank to the porch floor beside Zhevi, muttering, “Sorry… sorry… I’m so sorry, Zhevi… really sorry….”
Finally Zhevi said, “Okay fine! Stop apologizing. I’m glad you’re awake and alive and everything, but damn, you need to calm down. Why are you here?”
“What?”
“Here, at Thurlock’s house? Why?”
All Lucky had energy for by way of explanation was “He wants me here.”
“Whatever,” Zhevi said, still sounding annoyed, but he apparently had things on his mind he thought were more important. “Where is Thurlock? I need to talk to him.” He hesitated and then added, “L’Aria’s gone, Luccan. I can’t find her.”
Lucky blinked hard, trying to wake up enough to respond. Finally he said, “She leaves all the time, though, right?”
“No! Yes. Never mind. Where’s Thurlock?”
“Infirmary.”
“What? He’s hurt? Sick?”
“No, the aliens…,” Lucky said, but he was drifting off even as he sat on the hard floorboards of the porch with his back to the door, and he never finished the statement.
The door behind Lucky opened, suddenly, but he was so tired he simply took the opportunity to lie down, and he was half-asleep as he heard the ensuing conversation.
“Who are you?” Zhevi asked.
“I’m Henry. What’s wrong with Lucky?”
“He’s sleeping. I’m looking for Thurlock.”
“He doesn’t seem to be here.”
“Bye, then,” Zhevi said. “I need to find him.”
Apparently he hadn’t waited around for an answer, because Henry didn’t give him one. He crouched down and got an arm under Lucky’s shoulders, helping him to stand up. “Come on, kiddo, I’ll help you up to your bed.” Before he got to the stairs, he said, “But just between you and me? This is one crazy world.”