Chapter 1

 

 

 

Jared held the door to the pet store for her, and Maud promised to wait near the car for the rest of the group, but she didn't rush to the parking lot. They would be awhile, looking through the available animals, discussing, arguing, about which one would be the best host for the It, and she didn't want to spend her morning sitting on the hood of the car waiting. She wasn't registered on the thumb pad, so she couldn't get inside. She was registered on the three new cars she had bought; she had seen to that, but she didn't have the key to Jared's Seabreeze, which he had selected for himself, a statement of his independence.

She didn't know if he was aware of where she had her thumb print. If he knew she was keyed to the cars she had purchased, it might be an additional reason for him to reject them. He quietly but definitely drew back from her now, which was a reasonable reaction, she felt. It was the way it should be, the way she had known, from the start, it would be. And, knowing her daughter Cara was his wife, carrying his unborn son, she couldn't wish it otherwise.

So Maud drifted through the mall, pausing at the display windows, watching the crowds. It was boring. She didn't really care for shopping that much; there was a limit to the number of possessions one could enjoy, and she had reached it long ago. But it was better than staying in the pet store, which had such an extensive stock of rodents. Hamsters and gerbils and mice were harmless enough, at least in their cages, but they reminded her forcibly of the creature she really loathed. And this phobia seemed to be haunting her right now, as if something had reminded her of that unpleasant past moment.

Chazaerte, who didn't know why she hated rodents, found it amusing that his powerful mother should be terrified of a tiny mouse, a thing he could dispatch with a stamp of his foot. Carter, who did know why she hated them, was sympathetic and tactful. He would do anything he could if she asked, and would stay out of the matter if she didn't, which was Carter. And Jared, not knowing, not aware of the phobia until now – it simply hadn't come up earlier; they hadn't hung out in pet stores and Carter had been careful to keep rodent incursions under control in the penthouse – was tolerant and kind, of course, without taking it very seriously.

And she wasn't about to tell him anything about it. This came from the part of her life that he knew nothing about. Even now, when he knew so much, she was disinclined to share such memories with him, tied, as they were, to that part of their history – well, it was better that connections on this plane did not know the details, Maud thought. Bad enough that they knew Maud and her people existed, a separate species that had until now passed as their own; infinitely worse if they knew all of the hopes and ambitions that Oliver, for instance, harbored.

And on the personal side, she didn't want to describe that part of her life to Jared. His good opinion of her still mattered, she found; he did not need to know the grimmer details of her youth, what had happened, what she had done.

And the event that seemed to be haunting her right now – well, it could only remind him of the horrors of his childhood, better forgotten. He had seen that and worse in those years, although he didn't talk about it; she wouldn't know if she hadn't taken the time to do the research. And he had come through and survived, and he didn't need her memories to take him back to his own past.

Once, on the basis of this research, she had thought it was her strength that drew him, this very young man, dangerously attractive; he had been brought up by women who had all abandoned him over and over, in every possible way, even the great-grandmother he revered, that drunken old sot. He searched, she imagined, for the grandmother/mother/lover whom he could charm and seduce, who would not let him down. She would be that woman, powerful, unassailable, and it would hold him long enough for her purposes.

She hadn't counted on the relationship that sprang up between them, and she hadn't counted on it lasting over a decade. It hadn't been possible to hide her frailties for all those years. He liked her strength, she learned, and he met her weaknesses with gentleness, and with his own strength, which was greater than she had thought, and she really didn't know what drew him and kept him all those years.

She paused to look out through the sweeping glass windows at the front of the mall, giving a view of the blue sky, the spring sunshine, the planters showing a few shy green shoots, and the cars parked row upon row in the lot. Jared, with his usual luck at finding a good spot, was parked in the second row; she could actually see the Seabreeze from here, and people coming and going past it, and the man who paused beside it, lingering, hand on the hood, as if it were his own car. He couldn't afford a car like that; he was a big hulk of a man, but shabbily dressed, downright dirty, in fact. You might think he was one of the street people the authorities hadn't caught in their nightly sweep to get everyone into shelter and care and away from the temptations of theft and violence.

Maud had not previously seen Percival Lincoln, but he had been described to her many times. He was a big hulk of a man, now living rough in stolen weekenders and deserted sheds; no doubt he was shabby and dirty and, being on the run, he was indeed a street person avoiding the authorities.

And a creature possessed by an It.

And he was extremely interested in the Seabreeze. He stood, hand on the hood, looking around with little quick darting glances to be sure no one paid attention to him, and then he began to feel into the pocket of his dark jacket but he was clumsy; he pulled his hand out of his pocket and peeled off the dirty glove.

She could have gone back to the pet store; she could have used the traveler to alert Chazaerte or Carter. Instead she went with her impulse; she slipped out of the mall behind a cluster of women with babies in strollers, using them as a screen until she could get behind the over-pruned evergreen beside the door, next to a display of commercial-sized rakes and trimmers. Lincoln – she was sure it was him – was leaning against the Seabreeze and fumbling in his pocket; whatever he had in there was stuck, or required adjustments.

She glided on to a spot behind a large two-sided sign advertising specials on gardening equipment, where she had a closer view. Luckily there was no salesman around to interfere with her; there had been one, who had left a stool and a noter there, and a small sign, "Back in Ten Minutes." Maud peered around the sign. Lincoln was fidgeting in his pocket, trying to do something without anyone seeing him or what he held. He was indeed dirty, and he had a scrubby growth of beard; she saw a knitted cap hanging from his other jacket pocket.

A faint sound by the evergreen brought her head around, and she looked past the edge of the right side of the sign as Lt. Price hit the ground in a crouch behind the spreading lower branches, peering through the needles at the parking lot. In another instant, Lt. Price dived for the two-sided sign and came nose to nose with Maud.

"Lt. Price," said Maud, keeping her voice down.

"Shhh!" hissed Lt. Price. She peeked between the signs and turned to stare at Maud. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered.

"You swore to Dr. Ramirez that you weren't going to try to escape," said Maud.

"I am not trying to escape," Lt. Price whispered back, sounding quite indignant. "Sir. I am trying to apprehend the male subject, who is about to tamper with Dr. Ramirez' car."

"That would be Lincoln?" Maud asked.

"Correct," said Lt. Price.

"And how are you planning to apprehend him?" She was small, probably smaller than Cara, and she didn't have a weapon Maud could see.

Lt. Price, peering around the sign, didn't answer right away, which did nothing to allay Maud's suspicions. No one knew anything about this woman, none of Jared's people, none of Maud's people. She had captured Polly, apparently, but not Lincoln. She seemed to make efforts to do so, but she never accomplished this feat.

At the same time, she was lurking like Maud, watching him from cover; if she were a confederate she would probably be less cautious – unless, of course, she feared someone was watching her and she needed to continue to play the part of his enemy – which was all getting a little too convoluted, Maud thought.

"I don't have a weapon," said Lt. Price, finally. "Sir."

"I'm not a sir," said Maud, irritated with this parody of military-speak. "You may address me as Ms. Carter. And I repeat: how do you intend to apprehend this subject without a weapon?"

"At this moment," said Lt. Price, "sir, Ms. Carter, my aim is to prevent him from tampering with the car belonging to Dr. Ramirez. After that I will await an opportunity to apprehend him. Please return to the mall. You may tell Dr. Ramirez that I will return at the earliest possible time."

"I most certainly will not," said Maud, imagining Jared's reaction to that announcement.

"It is my job, sir, Ms. Carter, to protect all of you," said Lt. Price in a harried whisper. "I am unable to guarantee your safety unless you return to the mall –"

"Forget it," said Maud grimly, and took a look around the edge of the sign; Lincoln had something in his hand, some small dark object, and he was stooping beside the car, watching the passersby warily as he did so. "What is he doing?" said Maud, and Lt. Price thrust her face against the side of the sign.

"He is planting a bomb, I believe," she said in that eerie tone which held no discernible emotion, and she stepped backward, looking around at the ground and the rakes and the trimmers and the tillers as if seeking something. Maud, who had her own ideas, looked also but there was no loose rock or clump of dirt or handy hand tool visible; she dug into the pocket of her own jacket and brought out a used tissue and a head scarf and a hairbrush folded into a compact cylinder, not an effective weapon.

"Damn," muttered Maud, thrusting it all back into her pocket, and she took another look at Lincoln. He was peering toward the rear of the lot; he was turned so that he had his back and shoulder toward her. She got herself out from behind the cover of the sign and through the tools and crouched by the first row of cars, beside a dented green car of indeterminate make. Lincoln turned his head, looking back toward the entrance to the mall, and then he dropped down into a crouch between the Seabreeze and the vehicle parked beside it, and Maud moved into the second row of cars, aware of a streak of blue denim, a slight flurry of dust as Lt. Price left the sign and reached the first row.

There were people around; none of them seemed to pay more than cursory attention to them. Maud pulled out the headscarf and tied it tightly over her head, crushing her hair; this would at least obscure her identity, if anyone tried to describe her later. She looked over the trunk of the car hiding her from Lincoln; she could just see the top of his head as he crouched beside the Seabreeze, his back to her. She eased herself around the trunk and moved carefully, bent down behind the next car, keeping her footsteps light, hoping he wouldn't hear her coming. She couldn't see Lt. Price from here; she could only hope the woman would stay put and out of her way, would do nothing to warn Lincoln of their approach.

Lincoln was sitting on his heels, with one hand under the Seabreeze, doing whatever he was doing by feel alone; he had his head up, watching for witnesses toward the front of the car and he had his back to Maud, a piece of good luck. Maud moved very carefully. She had always been light on her feet, and she was not without experience in this sort of situation. It was a long time since the stakes had been this high, but she remembered.

He didn't hear her until she was right behind him; her foot hit a pebble and he started, turning his head, and she jammed the end of the folded cylinder of hairbrush in her pocket up against the back of his dirty neck. It was something like the business end of a pistol, after all, and held out of sight in her pocket, it couldn't be identified as the harmless thing it was. "Sit still, Mr. Lincoln," she said. "Don't tempt me. Shooting you would be a great pleasure."

The bluff worked; he froze. Even his hand under the edge of the car became still.

Lt. Price arrived at the front of the car, took in the scene, and moved in on Lincoln. "Put your hands where we can see them," she said, sounding like an actress on a vid. He evidently found it convincing. He leaned fractionally away from her and Maud poked him with the end of the folded brush; he jerked forward again with a small gasp and lifted his free hand. "Keep him covered," said Lt. Price to Maud, and she closed her small white hand around his dirty jacket arm and pulled his hand out from under the car, revealing a small black box covered with a great deal of tape, loose open ends blowing lightly in the spring breeze. The objective must have been to secure it to something under the car, which seemed inefficient, but then the Its tended to be inefficient. Murderous, but inefficient.

"Look at this," said Lt. Price, sounding pleased, and she took the box out of his hand and turned it to examine it, and Lincoln gave a sort of animal sound, a scream or a roar, and reared up and flung himself away from Maud, right over the top of the Seabreeze; he collided with the car parked on the far side, yelled again, and flung himself over that one too. Maud started after him, but he hit the open space where the shopping carts were being gathered; he thrust his way through them, sending them flying, a small army of carts sailing on their antigravs in all directions. Maud fended off one and then another and by the time she could get clear of them he was nearly out of the lot, running fast and hard. He reached the stop sign, turned left, and bolted across the street; she heard cursing and collision shields squealing and someone in a blue car sailed up in the air to avoid him.

Maud turned back. He was so close and if she could only get a car, she could give chase, but instead she ran right into Lt. Price, charging down the lane between rows of parked cars, bomb in one hand and the ends of the tape waving.

"Which way?" Lt. Price panted, struggling to get around Maud, and Maud grabbed at her to steady herself.

"Left, and across the street; he's gone," she said.

"If I had my car," said Lt. Price, and she focused on Maud. "Are you registered on the Seabreeze, sir, Ms. Carter?"

"No, damn it. If we'd taken one of the new cars –"

"Tell Dr. Ramirez I'm in pursuit," said Lt. Price, and she dodged around Maud and pounded toward the exit and the stop sign, still waving the bomb in one hand. It occurred to Maud that the sight of the bomb being carelessly handled could have been what scared Lincoln into his frantic escape.

And this was not a good thought; she took off after Lt. Price. "Stop waving that thing! Price! Stop!" she shouted, and Lt. Price reached the stop sign and hesitated, looking up and down the street, and Maud caught up with her, skidding to a halt and grabbing her wrist. "The bomb, you stupid girl, he was afraid of the bomb!" she exclaimed, and Lt. Price looked at her as if puzzled and then looked at what she was carrying.

"Oh, ancient gods," she breathed and became very still. A mid-sized van turned into the drive and went past them; a small child in a car seat, sucking his thumb, looked out at them with curiosity, and a large dog peered out of the back window.

"I can't put it down just anywhere," said Lt. Price, sounding for the first time uncertain and even a little frightened.

"Chute it," said Maud, but that wouldn't do either; if it exploded in the garbage system, it could cause major damage throughout the city. They couldn't flush it either; there was no guarantee that the contents of the sewer line would drown it safely.

"We don't know what activates it," said Lt. Price, holding it very still. "Heat, or light, or movement, or if it has a timer."

"The police?" suggested Maud, but that wouldn't do either; the police had been called to the University parking lot and the bomb had still gone off, and thank all the gods that had ever existed, Cara and Jared had been safely inside, warned away in time.

"If they brought a containment unit," said Lt. Price, and she looked up over the bomb at the busy street and the area across the street, where Lincoln had disappeared. "We could have had him," she said, sounding frustrated.

"Containment unit," said Maud, thinking furiously. Whatever they did, they ought to do it very soon, she thought, and trying to explain it to the police would take time. "Bury it," she said.

"We'd have to do it in the country, away from the city," said Lt. Price, "and fast, too. Because if it's on a timer –"

"Can you operate that thing?" Maud asked her, reaching for the silver chain around the woman's neck, and Lt. Price jerked away and then, looking at the bomb, froze again. She shot a glance out of the corner of her eye at Maud and didn't answer, which was its own answer, Maud thought.

"Stay there," said Maud, and took off across the parking lot toward the gardening tools, but of course Lt. Price wouldn't wait; she trailed behind Maud, holding the bomb carefully at arm's length, trying not to jostle it. Maud reached the two-sided sign, glanced once quickly to be sure no one was within reach, and grabbed up the digger at the back of the display, the demonstration model, the one the salesman, were he on duty, would be displaying to the potential customers as they went by. For this reason, it wasn't locked; she pressed the power button and heard it hum. Lt. Price arrived, breathless, holding the bomb away from her.

"Come on," said Maud, and she looked quickly; there were people, and some of them were looking at them, curious about two women running about with such urgency, but no one was approaching them. Their disappearance would be noticed, and probably someone would see that they had taken the digger with them, but who would believe anyone explaining how these two women had stolen a digger and vanished in thin air? She took Lt. Price's free arm and, slinging the digger under her elbow, took hold of her traveler, made the adjustment, and hit the button in the center.