Buy the print book
Buy the ebook - read it now!

Blurb
BOOK FOUR OF THE TREES SERIES
    Peter Trevick and his friends have only recently returned from a world dominated by pink fog, flaming trees, voracious mud, and hellish cherubs. A land where threats lie hidden in the murk, and danger beckons with a child’s visage. Now, they are at home, where everything should be as it seems.
    Little does Peter suspect that - if it comes to "hellish" - his adventures are far from over. They are, unfortunately, just beginning...

Shades





Book Four of The Trees Series



by N. D. Hansen-Hill

***

Dedication

To Sindee

***

Shades


What bring thee to thy faerie tale, when soil has tasted fleshly hale,
And only pallid aura lasts -
Do you dance to shadows of your pasts?
Have you traded all humanic lusts, for shifting motes and faerie dusts?
*
What of spittle, sweat, et flaws,
That come of gaping torso maws;
Aches and fevers, sores that fester,
Life's bequeathed to human jester?
*
And are you left no breath to speak?
Thy spirit hushed, thy presence meek?
Or does thy voice echo former days,
To make a chilt and shriekful haze?
*
Have thee put aside thy human tastes,
To be laid to rest with earthen wastes -
Or do you seek to sate thy flesh-starved plight,
When we see thy shadow ride the night?
*



by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***

Prologue        


        The Trees had stood for many years, their roots driving deep into the soils of this world, even as their odd structure became rooted in its fictional lore. Humans, although recognising the strangeness of the stark white trunks, could give no rational reason for the uneasy response these plants evoked.
        Had they been aware of dimensional travel, these people might, perhaps, have been able to guess at the origins of these trees. Brought as seeds from another world, they reflected the effects of this one, changing under the influence of coarse, mineral-rich soils, and a yellow sun.
        Burning the wood from these plants had an odd effect upon Earthly beings. The smoke allowed a portion of that other dimension to become incorporated into human bodies - mutating them so they no longer resembled creatures of the Earth. It had an additional effect, as well. It allowed these mutated humans to both see, and utilise, the portal between worlds: that swirling tunnel of light that connected their dimension with others.
        Earthlings were not the only beings to venture through to other worlds. Some of the creatures they encountered in their travels quickly became friends, in a give-and-take that helped all to survive. Many of these beings bore striking resemblances to creatures out of Earthly folklore: fairies, flying horses, gargoyles, gnomes. Human travellers soon realised that theirs was just the latest in a long tradition of dimensional exploration.
        But the danger of the unexpected lies in every venture through the trans-dimensional gate. For, not only do the inhabitants vary, but the natural laws of other realms often fail to coincide with those that are accepted in the human world. And transgressions to the natural law - in whatever dimension - can have dire consequences.
        Risk creates heroes, and miraculous events can turn enemies into friends. Changelings, because they differ from the standard, are threatening. The four Earth people who have most recently undergone the startling mutation wrought by the Trees' smoke, have had to deal with the reactions of their own species, in addition to the consequences of their adventures. Peter, Katy, Trevor, and Mari have recently returned home, from a journey that was not of their choosing, and that had left all in need of rest and healing. Peter is even now being healed by Mari and her healing crystal. Katy, full of foreboding, but not knowing why, still rests after her own healing. Trevor, who loves Mari, offers her his support as she works her magic over Peter's wounded leg.
        They are not alone in their efforts. Some of their trans-dimensional comrades, who've proven that friendship and loyalty are qualities not limited by natural boundaries, wait by their sides. Human friends, and former enemies who would be friends if given the chance, are happy merely to gaze upon the miraculous.
        A few enemies yet lurk outside the picture. One of these is human. The other long ago abandoned any sense of humanity, along with his mortal remains, to moulder in the grave.
***

Chapter One


        Jarrod Demascar had been patient for so long, watching his own substance moulder into dust. The body which had once brought him pride and pleasure was now a crumbling horror. He was locked into a nothingness of his own choosing; accepting the fact of his demise, but not its postrequisites. He had resisted leaving this plane of his birth, reluctant to surrender those fleshly indulgences - those avaricious and self-fulfilling entertainments - transitory pleasures which had no footing in immortality, but had substantiated his corporeal existence.
        He endured. Lacking real substance, deprived of those things for which he had bound himself to this temporal realm so long before, he lingered, awaiting the opportunity for release - the chance to regain what he had lost. In his present state, he could only draw enough of himself together to have a temporary impact on the mortal creatures of this world. He was doomed, for the rest of his existence, to dissolution into his surroundings. A dissolution that was like a taste - a teasing hint of what he had once known, once experienced.
        On one such foray away from his own rotting carcass, some fragment of his being had been caught along an ectoplasmic ribbon, of a type he'd never known before. This was ectoplasm that held the promise of release - that was unique, and not merely a remnant of a spiritualist's experience - that lived. Some awareness, perhaps his own, perhaps imbibed from elsewhere in the spiritual treadmill where he lingered - assured him that this ectoplasm could be used for his own purposes. But, only if he could find entry - if he could find a means of migrating at least a portion of his dissoluted being into this safe haven.
        Thus, he lingered, waiting for his moment. Unseen, he watched the healer at work. Colour swept the room, leaching energy from the sun's intruding light, the warm scent of the near-breathless observers, the dancing molecules of a million microbes, the pumping action of excited hearts.
        He allowed some of his essence to filter into those streams of colour - some ectoplasmic molecules to tangle and darken the rivers of light. The dark molecules mingled, well-camouflaged in the multi-coloured eruption; unnoticed as they were channelled into rejuvenating tissues, untrammelled as they found homology with Peter Trevick's subcellular constituents - those molecular cues that had recently begun to stimulate Peter's own ectoplasmic production.
        Demascar traversed Peter Trevick's intercellular pathways, dipping into cells as he chose. He had only been able to jettison a small amount of his being into the crystal's streaming lights, but it would be enough to establish his presence. Once established, firmly ensconced in Peter's ectoplasmic structure, he would find a way to circumvent Peter's resistance mechanisms - a means of welcoming the remainder of his own incorporeal being. Then, he would devise a way to subvert the body's former owner: a means to take control.
*
        The death dreams continued. Katherine was keening now - grief for Peter's loss racking her. In the black and white starkness of her imagined wanderings, Peter had evaded her, only to become distorted out of all recognition. She couldn't find him, and what terrified her most, was the fear that she might not recognise him if she did.
*
        "We must awaken her!" Aristi said sternly, trying to hide the effect that Katy's terror-tossed dreams were having on him.
        "And if she is caught up in it still? Like before?" Lily asked him doubtfully.
        Symmerley nuzzled his human friend, disturbed by her torment. Cyrnol edged his big frame closer to her, hoping to ground her mental wanderings with the warm solidity of his bulk.
*
        The colour should have soothed her. Waves of it had drifted in: searing, brilliant, held in space by the crystal that produced them. Something, though, was wrong. The colours were no longer pure - some warping had occurred. Some blackness had invaded, shading their brightness with a stygian shrouding.
        Instantly, she was awake. Katherine came to her knees, trying to equate the bleakness of her fantasy with the bright, heated colour of the late day. She stared at Lily's aura, not seeing it - her eyes were turned inwards, still traversing the twisted pathways of her dream.
        Lily spoke hesitantly, unsure whether Katherine was truly awake, or whether she was merely caught up once again in a sleepwalker's nightmare. "Katy?" the fairy said softly.
        The human's eyes focused, bringing Lily's and Aristi's worried faces into view. Her intuition, the warning implicit in her dream, battled with her reason, and won. "It's Peter!" Katy whispered. "He's in danger!" She twisted, jumping to her feet, to tear through the tall grass toward the house.
        She ran flat out, the grass crackling and bending under her feet, as she strove to shut out the dread that was mushrooming through her. I'll never be in time! The knowledge was a silent scream. She pushed it aside, not letting it deter her - using it to force her to still greater effort. Tearing into the house, she clambered through the hallway, tripping and falling in her haste, to finally splat, face-down, on the lounge rug.
        Lifting her head, she caught a last flicker of the dying lights, a whispered reminder of the healing that had just taken place. Pushing herself up on to her knees, she crawled forward, oblivious to the others in the room, to position herself at Peter's side. Mari, leaning back into Trevor's arms, gave her a tired smile. "You're just in time, Katy," she said. "I think Peter will be fine."
        Katy leaned over, to stare down at Peter's calm features. "Will he?" she asked in a whisper, her tone doubtful. Trevor looked at her strangely.
        Paul was surprised to see Peter open his eyes almost immediately. He'd expected him to sleep on, as Katy and Trevor had done.
        Katy watched, as Peter's eyes focused on her, and a smile, that was more of a leer, curved her lover's lips. She flinched backwards, as though she'd been struck. "It's not Peter!" she said.
*
        Mortimer raced along under the white-barked trees, yelping and whining. Normally, he would have high-tailed it for the house, for the promise of comfort and a pat on the head, but his recent memories of home, though confused, were not reassuring. Besides, his people were all being boringly unresponsive, and he wasn't about to risk being tied to one of those flying creatures again, either.
        He'd quickly forgotten why he was tearing through the woods, as he slowed his pace, and gave himself over to blissful sniffery. He unearthed some foul-smelling fungus, and even fouler smelling dung, that produced dim mental pictures of swiftly scurrying furry beasties. Morty nosed it around, then tossed the faeces above his head, before rolling over on to his back, to wriggle in it with his feet flailing through the air.
        He was still enjoying his dung bath when the wongnits rediscovered him. Deron went to join him, seeing new possibilities in this simple pastime. Melpis, bored with it, and envisioning the unpleasantness of cleaning her coat later, set off through the woods, intent on locating the heavily-leafed trees, where she and Deron had been playing before they were swept through the dimensional gate.
        As Melpis approached the trees, an eerie silence greeted her. The last time she'd played here, the rustle of living movements, the high-pitched notes of the birds, and the grating buzzing of insects had provided background noise. Unlike the area immediately surrounding the gate, this place should have been filled with an irritating assortment of sound and movement, rather than this intense motionless void. Melpis' unevenly tufted hair stood straight up on her back, and her lips parted in a snarl. She crept forward, torn between a delicious tingling of fear, and the stimulating realisation that trouble was at hand.
        The woods no longer existed. A glistening network of interconnecting hyphae had taken their place. What had once been trees, were now empty structures, their energy leached away, their colour dulled to a lifeless grey-brown.
        Melpis recognised the blue invader, a thing she actively avoided in her own world. Here, it had assumed massive proportions, and aggressive tendencies to match. Melpis, finally tasting fear, hissed in a cat-like gesture, and backed away.
        In her haste to place distance between herself and the pulsating netting, her back feet dipped into what had formerly been a tangled mass of tree roots. Twisting, she jerked in terror, at seeing the blue sheen now decorating her fur. Her writhing desperation increased, as more sticky threads touched the puffed-out boundaries of her tufted hair - binding themselves to her - adhering firmly with their own gluey matrix.
        Deron, romping in the miniature clouds of billowing dung dust that he and Morty had stirred up, suddenly froze. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed to a slit, while his hair immediately stood on end. It was the first time Melpis had ever radiated distress and fear, to the extent that he could feel it as his own. Ignoring the dog, who was circling him with yapping barks - certain that this was yet another game - Deron took to the trees, following the signal of Melpis' distress, as another might a light. Forewarned, he slowed his pace as he neared her, descending to the forest floor when he sighted the wriggling tufts of her furred body.
        Melpis paused, suddenly aware of his presence, and turned pleading eyes toward him. Deron, helpless to aid her, felt the full impact of her terror, as she fought ferociously to free herself. Finally, Melpis sighed, and stretched out a paw for him to touch - reaching beyond the boundaries of her entrapment, so that he would avoid the entanglement that was now her fate.
        At first, he thought she meant for him to tug her free - a hopeless endeavour - but then he saw the expression in her eyes, and recognised the motion as her farewell. Extending his own paw, he touched her, the glitter of tears lining his furry face. Reaching up, she touched, briefly, the track of glitter trailing from his eyes, then smiled at him, pleased that in this moment, he should care so deeply.
        She wanted him to stay - to be near as she drifted into the forever sleep that would come to claim her. Violently, he rejected the idea. Had not the fairy, and the healing crystal, been able to reclaim Trevor from the blue cave dwellers? That is what the fairy had boasted. "Fight!" Deron urged her. He would bring the fairies to her side. "I will not give you up -" were the last words she heard as he raced away, back toward the human dwelling.
*
        Horace and Kelwin were standing back, near the window. Vicki, who'd plopped down on one arm of the wing-back chair, was looking slightly worried. Edwin was agitatedly shifting from foot to foot. Alex appeared stunned - his first experience of a healing had nearly overwhelmed him.
        Jordan was overwhelmed. He'd known Peter and Katy for years, and had often exchanged quips with Trevor when he'd visited Peter at work. For him, the change in their anatomies, and, apparently, their abilities, was shocking. Paul, glancing his way now, noted his extreme pallor. "Could one of you shove the smelling salts under his nose? I think this has all been a little too much for him."
        They'd all stood in open-mouthed, gaping awe during Peter's healing. Even Vicki and Edwin, who'd been healed themselves, couldn't help but be impressed by the near-instantaneous knitting of bone and tissue, all at the instigation of a rock and a light show. Vicki was troubled now by the fear that was being emanated in the room. Edwin's awe had switched to agitation, his intuition filling him with foreboding. He didn't like the feeling. In the short time since he'd developed this precognitive sense, he'd had an unfortunate predilection for being proven right. And right now, in the face of these extraordinary people he'd met, he'd rather be wrong.
        Paul didn't know what to do about Katy. He exchanged a worried look with Mari, who'd also been studying her, with a kind of frightened wariness. In Paul's view, Katy had confused her dream with reality, and was now unable to separate the two. Unless, in her case, Mari's healing had resulted in some kind of mental aberration. Paul knew that was what Mari was worried about, and he just wished he could alleviate her mind.
        Trevor, his arms firmly supporting Mari, watched the anguished expression on Katy's face. He couldn't understand what was going on, but the horror in Katy's glance, as she looked at Peter, scared him. Right now, after all they'd been through, he just wanted things to be back the way they'd been before. "Katy?" She turned to look at him. "Peter needs you right now."
        Nodding, with an obvious effort to control her agitation, she crept closer to where Peter lay, half afraid to make eye contact once again. "Peter?" she whispered.
        At the sound of her voice, his face lit up, eyes warming with the tender luminescent fluctuations she had come to love. "Katy-my-love," he said. He struggled to sit up, and Paul helped him. Katy studied him intently, then flung herself into his arms. For a moment, his love invaded her being, and all was as it had been before. Then, with an emotional jerk that she sensed deep inside, he tightened his arms around her, and whispered in her ear, "You can tell them if you want, Katherine, but they won't believe you. They would rather think you mad. So, if I were you, I'd bite my tongue." He emphasised the last with a bite - a painful warning gouge into the soft skin at the side of her neck - under her hair, where it wouldn't be seen.
        Katy stiffened, wanting to scream, to lash out at him. But she was afraid. Sending out emotional feelers, she sensed that he was right. Already, some within the room were watching her with doubtful looks. She knew most people could accept the reality of a stress-related breakdown far sooner than they would ever accept - she dreaded admitting it to herself - the possibility of multiple personalities, or - God help me! she thought, remembering her dream - some form of possession.
        As tears of pain filled Katy's eyes, spilling down her cheeks, Mari breathed a sigh of relief. Her intuition told her that Katy was feeling remorse, and she assumed it was for those first words, which must, to Peter, have been terribly painful. Trevor, having known these two for so long, sensed that something was still wrong, but couldn't understand what it was.
        Katy's eyes met Thyme's as she shivered in her enforced hug. The fairy's aura wavered through the tears blocking her vision, but his look was serious, and not a little frightened. He, alone, knew with certainty that Katy's remorse stemmed not from her outburst, but from the pain that was being inflicted on her person. He also realised that the pain was more than physical - and that the Peter who had awakened was not the same Peter who had saved Mari's life. Katy's agony in her knowledge, and her inability to express it, tore at him. For, the creature who now shared Peter's form was ignorant about the refinements of a fairy's hearing - and Thyme, worried about Katy's first reaction to Peter's awakening - had made an effort to overhear those whispered nothings in Katy's ear.
*
        Gyris was no tracker. His heavy tread was likely to forewarn the crabwalkers of pursuit, thus forcing them to even hastier flight. Qualice pondered the problem, while Gyris, ever patient, looked on, and wondered what the gnome was up to now.
        Qualice, despite their failures over the last few days, had developed a new sense of confidence in his powers of invention. Chittering wildly to the gargoyle, the gnome scurried to collect the bright, neon pink leaves of the gritchla tree. He made two wads of pouffy leaves, which he insisted on securing to the soles of Gyris' feet, with long, pliable, grassy wands. The gargoyle baulked, resisting Qualice's efforts. Won't the yassels see us coming? My feet will be noted long before the rest of my person, he insisted.
        No, the gnome chittered back in the gargoyle tongue, you will blend nicely into your surroundings, and - more importantly - the yassels will not hear you coming.
Finally, worn down both by Qualice's insistence, and the excited look in his eyes at his latest invention, Gyris gave in.
        The two of them continued on: the gnome's rapid pace lost in his hustle to keep up with the gargoyle's longer, but now shuffling, stride.
*
        During the minutes Lily had watched over Katy's healing sleep, she'd been tensely attuned to Thyme's being. Had he encountered anything untoward, she felt certain her fairy senses would have apprised her in time to fly to his assistance. When Katy had rushed away, words of foreboding on her lips, Lily had been prepared to follow - willing to put aside her own dread of what might yet be waiting up at the house.
        She was disappointed that food had not proved the restorative it usually was for her, and she realised Aristi was correct in saying she was in need of Mari's healing. Now, as she prepared, with a sigh, to follow her human friend, Aristi stopped her, saying, "There are others at the house to do your share, Lily. It is time for you to rest, before the cold you are feeling encompasses you further." Anticipating an argument, he added, "You are not alone in your weakness, Lily. Look at Symmerley and Zylon. Weariness causes their wings to droop, and a need for sustenance enfeebles their flight. They should return to our world, before any further catastrophes descend upon them."
        Lily flew over to Symmerley first, then Zylon. "I am sorry, my Friends. You should go now, to nourish yourselves -"
        Symmerley baulked, certain that he would be needed.
        Aristi added a further argument, saying to Lily in fairy, "They have been seen by the humans, Lily, and their presence is difficult to hide. It would be better if they go."
        "But my friends are in the hands of those humans as well, who view them as oddities. Their safety is also at risk," she replied. The esquiors snorted their agreement.
        Aristi pulled Lily aside. "You must insist that they go, Lily. If necessary, ask them not to stray far from the gate, so that you can summon them, should they be needed. And," he placed his hands on her shoulders, "you should go with them."
        She looked startled. "Leave Thyme? And my other friends -"
        He crossed his arms sternly. "Well, if you will not leave, then you must rest. On Cyrnol's back." Aristi turned, to wink at the esquiors. Only by insisting on the unthinkable, could he get her to accept the reasonable.
        Lily nodded, then heard a snort of laughter from Zylon. Indignant, she faced Aristi, finding a smile lighting his eyes as well. Frowning, she darted huffily over to Cyrnol, to curl up in the folds of his skin. Before she closed her eyes, Aristi heard her say, "I think, Fairy, that you are very sly. It is not surprising to me that Thyme is your son." She drifted into sleep on the soft chiming of Aristi's laughter.
*
        As Deron raced back the way he'd come, he was smitten with the uncomfortable realisation that he was developing a most unwelcome conscience. Whereas before he might have rushed to Melpis' rescue, abandoning the weak-minded canine to its fate, now he was compelled to retrace his steps - to find out if the creature had succumbed to the same trap as his wongnit companion.
        Smelling out the path Mortimer had taken, he was momentarily distracted by the pungently-aroma'd, deteriorating remains of an unlucky rabbit. Spying it, he was seized with a sense of compassion that sat uncomfortably close to his new conscience, as he thought of his Melpis trapped, and anticipating a similar fate. His thoughts turned inward for a moment, as he opened his senses to her presence - needing the reassurance that she still lived. Releasing a breath, he spurred himself onward, following the dog's shortcut through the tall grass, and up to the humans' abode.
*
        Peter released her, and leaned back to watch her expression. Pride made Katy refuse to let this Thing, who'd somehow appeared in Peter's stead, glimpse its marks upon her person. She tilted her head forward, so her still-muddy locks would cover the impressions of his teeth.
        Show it to them! her anger urged. Then they'll know -
        Only they wouldn't. She could already guess how it would go. Relief would want to follow the path of least resistance. "I'm having a little problem with my muscles still, Mari. Spasms. Look what I accidentally did to Katy - can you help her?" It would be so much easier to believe than "Peter woke up as someone I don't recognise! Something came in on the healing stream, Mari! This isn't Peter!"
        How could she expect them to believe something she didn't want to believe herself?
        Something, perhaps in the way she held herself, her posture stiff and unyielding - or perhaps it was her closed expression - gave Trevor the impression that she had retreated far beyond Peter's reach, despite the few centimetres that separated them.
        Trevor looked at Thyme then. The fairy was acting strangely, too, placing himself on Katy's shoulder, his eyes glued to Peter's face. At first, Trevor suspected that Thyme was merely happy to be reunited with them both, but his expression was fierce, and his actions toward Katy almost protective. Trevor, much against his will, decided something was awry - more than awry - definitely wrong. The last thing he wanted was for some ugliness to ruin their reunion, especially because Mari wasn't ready for any further demands upon her person. A little reluctantly, Trevor sought his friend's eyes.
        Before he could speak, Paul's voice lifted cheerfully. "Well, Peter, how's the leg?"
        Peter flexed it, giving Mari a big smile. "Great! Thanks, Mari!"
        She gave a weak grin. "My pleasure."
        Trevor, alarmed at how depleted she sounded, decided to deal with Peter's and Katy's problem later. "Mari, I think it's time you gave yourself a little thought," he said.
        "Wait! Peter, are you sure I did it right? You really feel restored - you don't notice any side-effects?" Satisfied with his affirmative nod, she twisted - somewhat painfully now, she was finding - to see Trevor's face. "And you, Trev - you're okay?"
        "Give me some time alone with you, and I'll show you," he reassured her. He wondered if he was the only one who'd noticed that she didn't ask Katy.
*
        He wasn't. Jarrod Demascar was having trouble controlling his ebullience at his restoration. Although a portion of his being was still trapped in the ether, offering him two perspectives at once, that which had invaded Peter Trevick was rejoicing at the surging force of living tissue, the pumping of a living heart, the electrical impulses of nervous energy. His excitement in his deliverance superseded Trevick's own relief at his healing, creating an adrenaline rush that the real Peter couldn't understand, and was having difficulty controlling.
It won't be the last time you're caught unaware, Peter Trevick.
        Demascar noticed the expression on the fairy's face, the question in Trevor's eyes. Too much interest had been stirred by testing his control in these early moments - by manipulating those portions of Peter's brain that activated his responses. Now was not the time - especially since the woman now wore the evidence of a transgression, and might choose to use it if he continued. He felt confident that his wit could explain it away, but it would serve his purposes better if he had no need for explanations.
        For the moment, caution was needed - until he made himself whole once again. Demascar receded, ensconcing himself in the less conscious portions of Peter's anatomy; forfeiting control to the one who could fool them better than anyone: the fool who had formerly dominated this mortal form.
*
        Katherine sensed a change, as though a barricade had been erected, suppressing the darkness that had filtered into Peter's body. Unsure, a lingering aversion still colouring her actions, Katy hesitated. The blackness that had controlled his actions was with him still. Would he be able to keep it suppressed? Or would there be more violence?
        Katy thought of the women she knew - some who'd been beaten violently yet returned to the man who'd violated them. I always swore that would never happen to me.
        But now, she could understand how they felt. I want to help him - to let him know I believe in him - to remind him what he's fighting for.
        Maybe this was some kind of temporary aberration - maybe he was half asleep, and didn't know what he was doing. Weighing her fears against what she stood to lose, she found that she preferred to trust, rather than to doubt, him. To hope that Peter would find a way to overcome this. And, if he needed it, to use whatever support she could offer him to find his way back to the Peter she knew.
*
        Peter came to his feet with Katy's and Paul's help. Experimentally, he placed weight on his newly-healed leg. "Well?" Paul asked.
        Peter looked almost apologetically at Katy, before saying quietly to Paul, "I'm afraid there's still a bit of soreness deep inside -"
        "Generalised, or can you pinpoint it?"
        Peter pointed to the place where Paul knew the largest break had been. Paul sighed. Peter touched his arm, warning him with a glance to keep the news from Mari. Paul nodded. "I think it's just a bit stiff -" he started to say.
        Katy interrupted him by wrapping her arms around him from behind, to take some of his weight with an affectionate gesture. The sparkle was back in her eyes now, for no one but Peter would think of apologising for having healed inadequately, or try so hard to keep it from the one who'd done the healing. She denied the part of her that wanted to baulk - to hold back against the streak of blackness which she still sensed within him, or to reserve judgement until he'd once again proven himself to her.
        "Katherine," Thyme whispered in her ear, when she'd released Peter to let him sit in a chair, "is it wise to trust that which your senses deny?"
        Katy looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Probably not wise, Fairy," she replied gently, "but if my love can help shift the balance - to support him through his inner battle - then, I can't hold back - or I'd be failing him."
        Thyme nodded, approving her commitment, but unconvinced of its wisdom. "But, Katherine Ryder, if it should appear that he is losing his battle, be prepared to move quickly - out of his reach." Katy nodded, then turned back to hold Peter closely once again, in the safety of her arms.
***

Chapter Two


        David Nickelson came awake in a spattering of gravel. For nearly a full minute he lay there, trying to figure out why he was on the ground. His head ached, and when he turned over, he stared at the white wooden boards of Peter's house without recognition. Suddenly, seeing the remains of the video camera scattered in the dirt, it all came back to him, and with it - anger.
        Damn Alex Westerley - that fuckin' Mr. Righteous! He rubbed the side of his head, where Westerley had hit him. Well, he thought, one for the do-gooders. But, next time, it'll be my turn.
        He didn't have any idea how long he'd been out. He climbed to his feet, dizzy and nauseous, wondering whether Westerley had given him a concussion in his righteous zeal.
        He was still leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths to try to keep his lunch in place, when he heard the sound of excited voices. He forced himself to motion, stumbling around the back of the house, just as Westerley and one of the men Nickelson had been following - Edwin Murphy - hauled a door around the corner.
Nickelson seemed to lose track of things after that. He sat behind the house, nursing his sore head and his grievances, until the sound of someone running once more brought him to his feet. Nickelson peered around the corner, and saw one of the green females tearing toward the house. He searched behind her, but couldn't see anyone in pursuit. The way she was acting, the look on her face - you'd think something was hot on her heels.
        He heard the thunk as she fell on to the lounge floor, and wondered if she'd run into the wall. Moving slowly, he made his way around the side, so that he could get a look in the window.
        It looked like a convention. He still didn't know which female was the healer, and he glanced from one to the other. He knew which one looked healthier.
        His eyes kept returning to the green guy at the centre. David blinked his eyes several times, wondering if he was having some visual problems resulting from his knock on the head. The fact that he was green was weird enough, but he was also the only one in the room with a shadow - a dark shadow that followed the contours of his body as he moved, like a thick outline in a child's colouring book.
*
        "Mari?" Mari heard him, but couldn't seem to open her eyes. She knew someone was lifting her, and the rightness of it - the feel of it - told her it was Trevor.
        "Is she out again, Trevor?" That was Paul's voice.
        "Not completely." Trevor sounded worried.
Don't worry, Trevor, she wanted to say, but couldn't get the words to form.
"How are we going to get her to heal herself?" Trev asked Paul.
        "We're not - not until I get a better look at her shoulder. I don't want it to heal wrong." Mari couldn't see Paul's expression, but she heard Trevor's quick intake of breath. Paul had indicated Peter, sitting in the chair, trying to knead away the ache in his leg.
        Trevor was dismayed. "How bad?" he mouthed.
        Paul shrugged, shaking his head. He formed the word "X-ray" with his mouth. Trevor nodded. Paul studied Trevor again. He looked healthy enough. "I'd say Mari did a good job on you," he said, as he worked on Mari's shoulder. "How do you feel?" he asked casually.
        "Great," Trevor admitted.
        "What about Katy?" Paul asked softly.
        "What about her?" Trevor returned - almost defensively, Paul thought.
        "Does she seem all right to you?"
        Trevor glanced at her. "I'd say so -" he began. Knowing Paul's interest was sincere, he added quietly, "- now."
        Paul nodded. "That's what I thought," he agreed.

Buy the print book
Buy the ebook - read it now!


*
        Deron, in his haste, almost overran the dog. Mortimer tried to check his furred playmate's sprint through the rustling grass, with a toothsome tug of the wongnit's tail. Deron, caught up in his fear over the elapsed time, turned on the dog, eyes an angry red. Mortimer, uncertain now, released the other's tail, then yapped at him, blocking his path.
        Deron stopped short of flaying the annoying creature; deciding instead to make use of the dog's long matted coat of hair that was still thick with mud and dung. He yanked three large tufts from the shaggy back before the dog knew what he was about, then settled the matter by using his teeth to extract several of Morty's sensitive whiskers. Mortimer gave a dog scream of fright, then tore off toward the house, tail between his legs, and throat at full whine. Deron was at his heels the entire way.
        Once there, Morty dove under the house, and hid amid the pilings, cowering behind a large chunk of concrete foundation. Deron, ignoring the odd human who was looking in at the window, bounded through the front door, leaped to the door frame, and executed a rolling dive into the crowded lounge. His agitation was immediately apparent, and Thyme darted to his side. "What's wrong, Bozo?" he asked. The wongnit chattered wildly, hair puffed, pacing madly.
        Thyme, hearing the news, swore loudly in fairy. At least, that's what Trevor assumed, listening to him.
        "What is it, Thyme?" Peter asked urgently.
        "Remember the blue ceiling dwellers, Trevor? The ones who decorated your torso as they tried to eat you alive?" Trevor nodded. "They are here - in the forest -"
        "What!" Peter said, jumping to his feet, cringing slightly as his leg gave way. Balancing on the other, he asked, "Are you sure?"
        "Duh!" Thyme said impatiently, zapping him gently. "I saw them before, when Lily and I came for the healing crystal, but in the excitement, I -" his expression grew slightly sheepish, "- forgot!"
        "You forgot!" Peter nearly shouted. "How could you forget something like that?"
        "Now, who's the 'duh'?" commented Trevor.
        "There was a lot on my mind -" he began.
        "And nothing in it," added Trevor.
        Thyme hovered in front of Peter. "It has destroyed the forest, and now is taking victims. It has Melpis," he said, glancing at Deron.
        Katy's eyes widened in horror. "Melpis! Can we save her?"
        "Only if we get there in time, Katherine. But we will need the crystal." He turned to Paul Gatley. "I must take it, Paul."
        Paul shook his head. Not at the risk of Mari's mobility. How could this fairy equate an animal's welfare with Mari's? "Not until we've finished with Mari," he said firmly.
        Deron snarled in rage.
        "We're talking loss of life here, Paul!" Katy told him angrily.
        "Of an animal, Katy."
        "Not just an animal," Trevor said, snatching the crystal from Paul's hand. He tossed it to Peter, who handed it off to the fairy.
        "Trevor's right, Paul. Melpis isn't merely an animal - she's a friend," Peter said.
        Katy raced with Deron and Thyme toward the door. Peter limped over, prepared to join them. He felt Trevor's hand on his arm. "No, Pete." He pushed Peter back into the chair. "Take care of that leg. Just keep an eye on Mari for me, okay?" he pleaded.
        Peter nodded, his frustration at his limitations obvious. Keeping his tone light, however, he told Trevor, with mock seriousness, "And, if anything happens to Katy, tatooing'll be the least of your worries, Trev." Trev flashed him a smile, then leaped through the broken hallway to join the others.
*
        "Peter -" A voice spoke his name hesitantly, and Peter looked up. He'd been sitting with his face buried in his hands, fighting to tune out both the pain in his leg, and the frustration of being incapacitated.
        "Jordy!" Peter's surprise and pleasure at the sight of his friend was obvious. "How long have you been here?"
        "Long enough to see the impossible. How's the leg?"
        "Fine."
        Jordan looked disbelieving, but let it drop. "Why didn't you tell me, Peter?" He sounded slightly hurt.
        Peter, on the other hand, sounded amused. "Tell you what, Jordy? That my accident changed me into a mutant? 'Sorry, Jordan, but I can't come in to work today. I'm feeling a little green around the gills'."
        "You didn't trust me."
        Peter shook his head, denying the charge. "Remember when I told you that getting involved could cause you trouble? Well," he said, "trouble may have arrived." He stared at Kelwin and Vicki, remembering their faces in some rather unpleasant circumstances. "You're Mader's people, aren't you?" he asked flatly.
        "No longer," Vicki said with a smile. "We came to find Mari -"
        Peter stood up, to place himself between them and Mari, his expression suspicious. "Why Mari?"
        "To protect her. There are others who want her - for her healing. I - we - just felt responsible," she finished lamely.
        Alex and Jordan looked at each other in horror. "David Nickelson!" Alex exclaimed. He and Jordan raced out of the house.
        "Don't mind me," Peter muttered wearily, limping over to where Paul was still working on Mari's shoulder. "This is just my house, my life. No big deal."
        Paul was still annoyed that they'd put Mari's health at risk: countermanding his decision, in order to use the crystal on some animal. His comment now was harsh, but he kept his tone light. "Do I hear a trace of self-pity, Peter Trevick? I didn't think that was your style." He expected to hear a quip in response, but Peter's next words were serious.
        "It's not," he admitted, his expression curious. His look was that of the scientist stumbling on something that didn't fit his expectations. "The funny thing is, I don't feel very much like myself today."
        Paul glanced at him, noting his expression, before turning back to Mari. What the hell is going on? he thought. Forcing a smile, he urged Peter, more kindly this time, "Why don't you go sit down, Peter? Until we can get an X-ray, you should probably stay off that leg."
        Peter nodded, depressed. He'd never felt this way before. Almost oppressed, as though he were weighted down. Even at his worst, before his transformation, he'd never been subject to bouts of depression. Certainly, afterwards, he'd been filled with so much high-spirited energy that he couldn't have been depressed if he'd tried. Happy, angry, sad even, but never truly depressed - never this deep despondency. Now, his energy levels, for some reason, had suffered in the healing of his leg - the lack of that physical drive made him realise just how much he'd come to value it.
*
        "Should we get Lily? And Aristi?" Katy asked.
        Thyme considered it, then nodded. "Lily has greater control over the crystal than I." He snatched a strand of first Trevor's, and then, Katy's, long hair, using the backpressure of his wings, to force them to a stop.
        "What?!" Trevor was letting his irritability show. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving Mari, but knew that Melpis' life was at stake. He was anxious to extricate the wongnit, see to her well-being, and return to Mari's side - hopefully, before she realised he'd left.
        "While I am fetching Lily, tread wisely. In other words, Trevor Richmond, don't go blundering in there, only to entangle yourself."
        "I never 'blunder'! And, if I did, you wouldn't recognise it anyway, you're so busy making your own mistakes -"
        "Fairies don't make mistakes -"
        "Then, are you certain you're a fairy?"
        "Cretin!"
        "Toad!"
        "Shut up!" The air between the two frizzled with a sudden sparkling of colour, and they both jumped. Katy didn't notice. Having lost her temper at their petty arguing, she'd already turned her back and was hastily following Deron once more.
        "Thyme?" Trevor whispered. "What was that?" He was watching Katy's retreating back.
        "I do not know, Trevor, but I suspect it was a product of Mari's healing. Do not worry," he said, patting the human's shoulder, "Lily and I will return as soon as possible." He started to fly away, then turned, to tell Trevor, "In the meanwhile, try not to let Katherine lose her temper."
        "No problem!" Trevor called back. "Tact and diplomacy are my middle names!" Trevor raced to follow the others' trail.
        Thyme groaned, thinking about it, then darted away to find Lily and his father.
*
        Qualice and Gyris realised they were closing on the yassels. Gyris was glad; he had an uneasy feeling that this might be a useless quest, for the yassels were unlikely to listen to their excuses, and they might well end up more battered than they'd been during the cave-dwellers' flight. His attitude, he knew, differed greatly from the gnome's. The gargoyle was fairly confident that if he and Qualice returned to their own people, then the yassels would soon discover their flight to be unnecessary, and go back to their caverns. If not, they must surely have another destination in mind. It occurred to him then that his and Qualice's presence might well chase the yassels away from any place they'd intended to settle. He tried to explain this to the gnome, and Qualice listened politely - nodding in agreement.
        Gyris, thinking that the gnome concurred with his assessment, and was willing to let nature take its course, prepared to return to his own people. It took a while before it penetrated that Qualice was agreeing with him, even encouraging him to go home, but that he had no intention of doing the same. The gnome's sense of honour wouldn't allow him to leave the situation alone, but he didn't feel he should embroil Gyris any more in his plans. After all, Gyris had been a victim of the situation as much as the yassels had.
        Qualice waved the gargoyle goodbye, then turned in the direction of his village, in case Gyris was watching. After a few paces, he veered off, recovering the yassels' path. He scurried along, nervous now that he was alone, but determined to do the right thing.
        Gyris sighed, then shuffled along quietly - courtesy of Qualice's makeshift shoes - in pursuit.
*
        Horace and Edwin followed Alex and Jordan out of the house. Alex, uncertain as to why Mader's former employees wanted to help find Nickelson, didn't object when they joined in the search. He hoped they weren't searching out of concern for their former co-worker. Where would that leave me? he thought. I'm the one who bashed him.
        Alex hadn't really believed Vicki's claim about protecting the healer. He suspected their motives were far less altruistic than that. After all, they were getting paid to find Mari. It was more likely that they wanted to eliminate any competition. Or, possibly, to enlist Nickelson's help. Nickelson was a specialist at finding out things people didn't want him to know.
        They may have worked with Nickelson on Mader's staff, but that doesn't mean they'll work together now, he told himself. But if they do decide to pool their efforts? Alex looked down at the dirt impression of Nickelson's body, and thought about just how hard he'd clobbered him with that boot. He didn't look forward to Nickelson, or any of his friends, returning the favour.
        Nickelson's car was there, which meant the man was still lurking somewhere nearby. When Alex pulled the wires out of both the distributor, and the coil - figuring that it would take the man a while to sort out the dual problem - the other men made no objection.
        Reassured by their silence, he turned to Horace and Edwin, and demanded bluntly, "All right! What's your angle?" He was rather proud of his coolness.
        Horace gave him look for look, but a smile lingered at the back of his eyes. He nudged Edwin, who turned to stare at a shrub, trying to hide his own amusement. "Angle! What business is it of yours?" he asked harshly, in his best gangster fashion. "Let me just say," he continued, patting his pocket as though something more threatening than his handkerchief and wallet resided there, "that we have business with the healer."
        "Selling miracles, no doubt."
        "Maybe. And you?"
        Alex was uncomfortable with the thought that these people had worked for one of the most brutal people in the "twisted science for a price" business - some, for many years. This made them potentially hazardous to his health, and basically untrustworthy. In Alex's mind, anyone who could condone Mader's activities could condone just about any exploitative bullshit that came down the pipes.
        What he didn't know, was that Mader had been a law unto himself, who kept the full scope of his activities to himself. Most of his Security staff, although familiar with Mader's methods, forced themselves to be content with the polite lie, and the half-told story. The science staff, on the other hand, would have been more cognisant of Mader's intentions, but a lot could be hidden by a wealth of incoherent detail. Details that could only be construed into the whole if you knew most of the facts.
        Alex assumed any admission about coming here to defend the healer would, more than likely, get him into major difficulties - of the physical kind - that would require a hospital, or the healer's own gifts, to sort out. He sweated a little now as he told these two toughs, "You and I are employed by the same group of people. I'm here to observe, and advise, if necessary." And you can stick that wherever you want to, he gloated, pleased, and not a little surprised, at his own glib response.
        "Then why didn't you know 'my angle'?" Horace responded suspiciously.
        The man's eyes grew wide. For Edwin, the play of emotions was so glaringly apparent, that it was like watching a soap opera - or, he thought, as he turned away to hide his own hilarity at the scene - like a sitcom. He heard, rather than saw, Alex say stumblingly, "I was testing you -"
        Horace didn't know exactly who Alex was, but Edwin's reassurances - as to the man's ethical nature - did a great deal to support his own, less intuitive assessment. For the moment, in spite of Westerley's claims, Horace felt fairly certain that the man was against turning Mari Sullivan over to the powers-that-be. Letting Alex off the hook, he gave him a solemn nod, indicating he'd accepted his words. Horace's lips twitched when he heard Alex's unconscious sigh of relief. Then, Horace turned to focus his attention on the fourth searcher, wondering how well he knew Peter Trevick.
        Jordan had been quiet, feeling in over his depth with these people. They all seemed to have such tough veneers, as though they sported emotional calluses. He was worried about what had happened to Peter, remembering that - whatever it was - it had obviously affected Katy and Trevor as well. The thought of contagion crossed his mind, but he discounted it as unworthy. He thought about the other woman - the one they called Mari. She was capable of some amazing feats, and he wasn't slow to realise that these guys thought they'd picked up on a marketable commodity.
        He didn't know what to make of the other creatures he'd seen. He refused to dwell on their presence, concentrating instead on finding a way to help Peter. The changes, the mutation - Jordy hated the ugliness of the word - he'd undergone wasn't likely to be reversible. Peter, Katy, Trevor, and the healer, Mari, were doomed to lives as freaks, and Jordy found pity surmounting his other emotions. Next came anger, at the presumptuousness of these people, who wanted to manipulate at least one of the four for whatever they could get.
        Jordy was probably more conversant with the idea of genetic manipulation than any of the others. After all, it was done with plants all the time - creating new varieties, developing resistant strains, increasing freeze tolerance. He often worked with mutagenic chemicals in the lab - using safety precautions, of course - and, after all, what were cancers, but mutated cells gone wild? Peter's mutation was extensive, but if the telephone conversations they'd had were anything to go by, his memory was still intact. What he and the others needed most right now, Jordy thought, was a chance to re-establish their lives. That, and appropriate medical care. He assumed that the appearance of the physician, Gatley, indicated that at least some of the medical aspects had already been dealt with.
        Jordy tried to picture Peter back at work in the lab, and failed. His friend looked like a giant elf. Freakish, yes, but there was something about the near-metallic shimmer of his skin, his pointy ears, the tilt of his eyes, their pulsating glow - Peter with glowing eyes? Impossible! - that would cause people to look, and look again. Jordan's lips curved in an unwilling smile as he thought about pheromones, used by insects to attract the opposite sex, and used in traps to draw in unsuspecting moths. Something about Peter's new form was like that: particularly attractive to human eyes, like the sheen of gold, or the flash of diamonds. It wouldn't make the return to the quiet life easy for his friend, Jordy realised. He doubted that people would leave him alone.
        Horace wanted to question Jordan about his relationship with Peter Trevick, but decided that blunt tactics would serve him better. Instead, he asked, "Who are you?"
        Jordan's hand shook as he pulled a card from his pocket. "Jordan Callaghan. I'm here to investigate the forest blight."
        Horace looked out at the trees. "Yep. They sure are blighted, aren't they?"
        "Not just blighted, but a threat to life. I need to make a call."
        "Who?"
        "Local authorities. A lot of people will be killed if we don't get this under control."
        Horace nodded. He put Jordan's card in his pocket, saying, "I'll just keep this, if you don't mind."
        "Of course. Now, for that call?"
        "Why don't you go with him, Edwin, to make certain he gets to make it, while this man -" Horace looked at him inquiringly.
        "Alex Westerley."
        "- while Westerley and I hunt down David Nickelson." Horace thought of something. He asked Westerley, "Do you know whether Nickelson's armed?"
        Alex and Jordy looked at each other, then smiled. "He was -" Westerley began.
        "- but not any longer," Jordan finished.
        Horace, for the first time, smiled back at them. He realised that disarming someone like Nickelson must have been a new experience for them both. "You guys are right on top of it, aren't you?" he commented. He slapped Jordy on the back, and was about to walk away, when Edwin stopped him.
        "Horace?"
        "Yeah?"
        "My chances of locating Nickelson are probably better than yours."
        "Right," Horace admitted. He gave Edwin a good-natured shove. "So, what are you waiting for? Go locate him." Edwin grinned, then moved off with Alex to trace Nickelson's trail. Behind him, he heard Horace say, "I'll send Kelwin out to keep you company."
        "Maybe we should have had him bring his espresso machine - to lure the guy out - sort of like pheromones to a moth." As Ed and Alex walked away, Jordy stared after them with an odd expression on his face.
*
        Even though Katy and Trevor were racing along after Deron, it was apparent he was nearly frantic at their slowness. The two humans involuntarily lessened their speed as they came under the cloaked trees, the utter stillness of the place adding to their discomfort. "Poor Melpis!" Katy said softly, thinking what it would be like to be trapped within this eerie desolation.
        Trevor was jumpy, caught up in his own sleep-disoriented memories of what it had been like to awaken covered with the blue invaders, knowing that they were gorging themselves at his expense. "Damn parasites!" he muttered now, overreacting to a bit of drifting hyphae that tumbled his way.
        Deron froze as he spied Melpis' form, near mummified by an encroachment of the hyphae. A whimper escaped him as he realised that her life-force was at a low ebb. She might not survive the return of the fairies. He crept forward, crawling underneath a festoon of glistening hyphae, to take the paw that was still extended - that, mercifully, was still uncovered by the encroaching invader. "She reaches out to me, even in sleep," he said in wongnit, and the desperate look he turned on Katy and Trevor was fraught with crystalline tears.
        "She won't make it, if we don't get her out of there," Trevor said.
        "It'll mean we'll get some on us, as well. Are you willing?" Katy asked.
        "'Been there, done that'. But - yes." he sighed. "If I let you do it, though, my life won't be worth a damn - Peter, you know."
        "Yes, I know." Katy smiled ruefully. "But you didn't see me - or couldn't stop me - or something."
        He nodded. "Okay." He grimaced, then ducked under the low-hanging loops of hyphae.
        Katy followed him. "I just hope Peter likes his women with tattoos."
        "Look," Trevor mumbled, his lips nearly closed against the chance of getting blue stuff in his mouth, "you brush me down, and I'll brush you."
        She heard the levity in his voice and chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced.
        Reaching Deron, Trevor tried using a stick to tug the hyphae off Melpis, but finally gave up, as he realised that the stick was full of the stuff, anyway. Deron looked at them disbelievingly, as the two humans used their bare hands to yank and tug the hyphae out of Melpis' fur. His own restraint was the result of years of cultural indoctrination about avoiding any contact with the blue creature, and he wondered if the humans were risking their lives out of ignorance. No, they realise the danger, but they know that Melpis is at yet greater risk. Overcoming his own reluctance, he went rapidly to work, ferreting out the small branchlets that had grown into Melpis' skin, and were trying to suck her dry.
        Trevor knew the first hint of trouble was upon them, when he heard Katy yawn. "Uh-oh," he said, as an answering yawn welled up within him, and the urge to sleep started to intrude on his consciousness. He elbowed Katy hard, noting how she was beginning to work like an automaton, her mind drifting elsewhere. "Out of here, Katy!" It took her a moment to understand. "Let's tug Melpis out! She's nearly free!"
        The three worked together to pull the downed wongnit into the clear. As they moved, they extricated her legs from the dense netting, leaving her with a decorative, but fortunately sparse, webbing across her torso. Toward the end, it was only Trevor's panic that kept the rescuers from becoming victims. Katy still responded to his urgings, but Deron, suffering from a rapid growth of the hyphae on his underbelly, needed a few good shoves in order to get clear of the immediate danger.
        They made it to just beyond the trees. Then, Deron, checking for Melpis' heartbeat, fell asleep on the other wongnit's chest. Katy curled up on her side, arm tucked under her head. Trevor looked at the other three, a desperate look on his face. "Thyme!" he yelled. Then, the sleep impinging on his vision like dark clouds, he muttered, "Oh, hell!" and flopped down, spread-eagled on the hard ground.
*
        Thyme saw his father's aura first, a calm bright beacon under the shadowy recesses of the trees. Aristi, sensing his agitation, had come halfway to meet him, in hopes of letting Lily sleep on. "Where is Lily?" Thyme asked, the tones brusque, even in the fluted fairy tongue. He was surprised that she hadn't responded to his need, a thing which slightly dented his ego. It bothered him that, as far as Lily was concerned, his egoism was a fragile thing, capable of being shredded by an unkind thought.
        "I made her rest," his father said, "and it is an indication of her need that she did not awaken in response to your distress."
        "She is unwell?" Thyme asked worriedly.
        "The cold within her eats at her aura." Aristi shook his head. "I have never seen such a thing before."
        "I cannot go to her now, Father," Thyme said unhappily. "The blue cave dwellers have somehow travelled the portal between worlds," he explained. "And Lily's skills with the healing crystal may be called for, to salvage the wongnit Melpis." His father snorted, at the idea of racing to the rescue of a wongnit. Thyme's eyes flashed a wisp of red. "I choose my friends, Aristi, and this wongnit is one of them. I owe it to her, and to Deron, to attempt a rescue."
        Aristi, measuring the strength of his son's feelings in the matter, nodded. "Then, I will come along to control the healing, Thyme. I am not unskilled in such matters," he added proudly. His aura touched his son's lightly as they wove speedily between the trees. "You must find some redeeming quality in these wongnits - some finer qualities if you pronounce them friends."
        Thyme smiled, shaking his head at his father's obtuseness. "I take them as they are, Aristi. A wongnit cannot be compared with a fairy, only to be found lacking. Deron and Melpis would be terrible fairies, but they are quite decent wongnits. And as to redeeming qualities, Father: Deron's feeling for Melpis is quite the finest thing about him. This, alone, would make them worth preserving."
*
        Mari awakened suddenly, but her vision was distant. "Trevor's in trouble!" she told Peter. "Can you sense anything from Katy?"
        Peter shook his head, looking uncomfortable. "I can't sense much of anything right now," he admitted. "But, if one of them's having a problem, you know the other won't be standing idly by." He stood up, frustrated and fed up with his incapacity. "You!" he said to Kelwin. "I'm going to need help!"
        Paul said, "Let them go, Peter! You could lame yourself for life this way -"
        "Paul, if I lose Katy, Trevor, or even Thyme, I'll feel as though I'm permanently lamed." His eyes flared red as his frustration took over.
        Kelwin had been standing staring at him, uncertain who to listen to. Peter hobbled over, and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. "Move it!" he said harshly. "Now!" More kindly, he added, "If Mari says it's desperate, you can believe it!" Putting his arm around the man's shoulder, he urged him over to the lounge window. "We'll go this way. Then we won't have to tackle the hall floor."
        As he clambered through the window, he glanced back at Mari, and offered her a quick smile. "I'll find them, Mari. Don't worry!" To Paul, he said, "I'll be back as soon as I can." He turned to glare at Vicki, as though daring her to try anything while he was gone. "When I come back, I won't be alone." Vicki knew he wasn't referring to Kelwin. Peter put an arm around Kelwin's strong frame, and they began a rapid three-legged race through the tall grasses.
        "How's my shoulder, Paul?" Mari asked impatiently.
        "If you quit wiggling around," he said irritably, "it'll stay in position for the healing crystal." She sighed loudly, and Gatley added more kindly, "I just want you to get back full use of your arm, Mar. That means staying put. I'm sorry."
        "Don't be. It's just that everything's in such a mess. Peter, for instance. And - and Katy."
        Vicki came over, saying calmly, "It's probably because you aren't up to par yourself, Dr. Sullivan."
        Mari looked at the other woman, a question in her eyes. "I appreciate your concern, and I may not like the answer, but can you tell me what you and the others are doing here?"
        "Protecting you."
        "Specifically, or generally?"
        Vicki smiled at the question. "Healers are worth a lot on the open market -"
        "Hell!" Paul muttered.
        "Even faulty ones?"
        Vicki nodded. "Even faulty ones," she confirmed. "We were hired to locate you, but we did it to warn you and the others, so you'd have a chance to get away. We never figured on finding you in this condition."
        "Great!" Mari mumbled. "What will they do to me - to us?"
        "Exploit you." Vicki decided Mari ought to know everything. "'Cures for hire'. Discover what makes you tick. God knows what else."
        "It doesn't sound like God has anything to do with it," Paul said.
        Vicki went on. "They'll probably be interested in the others, too, but you're the one with real potential."
        Mari wondered if they'd still feel that way if Katy flashed her colours, or Peter his ectoplasm. But she remained silent. Changing the subject, she asked Paul, "What are my chances of a recovery, if I can't use the crystal on myself?"
        "Well, if you can avoid excessive movement, probably pretty good." He sensed her tension, and knew she was concerned she and Peter might not be well enough to get away in time. Trying to reassure her, he said, "If you heal as fast as Katy did, when she damaged her spleen, then we're talking anywhere from hours to several days."
        Mari nodded, relieved.
        The lounge window lifted open again, and someone Mari and Paul had never seen before stepped inside. Vicki snatched up a lamp and swung at him, trying to catch him off-guard. Ducking, he backhanded her, sending her flying against, and over, the chair Peter had vacated a few moments before. As Paul stood up, to place himself in front of Mari, the man stepped calmly forward, kicked him rapidly in the abdomen, and booted him out of the way when he dropped to the floor. Then, pulling a pack of gum from his coat, he offered Mari a stick. "Gum?" he asked, smiling.
        Mari scooted back across the floor, wondering what she should do. As she reached the fireplace, she snatched up the poker, brandishing it in front of her. David Nickelson grinned more widely, and held out his hands. "Whoa!" he said. "Wait'll you see what I have." He went back to the window and picked up a wadded blue shirt that he'd left outside.
        Mari scooted toward the door. It was her he wanted, and if she could only get out of this room, chances were he wouldn't hurt Paul or Vicki any further. "I'd wait, if I were you," he said. She looked over, measuring the distance between him and the doorway. Nickelson took the shirt, and placed it under a raised foot. "Don't you even want to know what's in it?" he inquired.
        In spite of the danger, Mari looked. She could see the knots in the shirt now, from which he'd devised a makeshift bag. And the bag, so close to being crushed under his foot, was squirming. Mari broke out in a sweat, her mouth going dry. The cloth prevented the escape of everything but light. And the pattern of the weave showed boldly in the brightness of a fairy's aura.
***

Chapter Three        


        Thyme heard Trevor's yell with relief, its normalcy contrasting sharply with the eerie quiet within the hyphae's domain. Recognising the note of desperation in the human's voice, though, he sped up his already swiftly moving wings. Thyme realised that, in spite of Trevor's own experiences, and a fairy warning, Trevor was most likely to have blundered in, as usual. He wondered how many of those on the rescue mission were now trapped in sleep, and sighed as his senses told him it was probably all of them. "Don't send subcreatures out to do what you should do yourself!" he muttered. Aristi heard him, but refused to comment, remembering his son's quick defence of the wongnits.
        "Well, there they are!" Thyme said sarcastically, seeing the four of them snoring peacefully, while the blue parasites grew rapidly across their forms. "Send a human out to do a fairy's job," he paraphrased, recalling someone's statement from a movie on Peter's TV. Shaking his head, he determined that Melpis was the most in need of their services, and beckoned his father to help.
        "You are good with the crystal, Aristi," he said a moment later, as Melpis stirred. "I feared that we would be forced to carry her to Mari for healing. Dangerous work with a wongnit," he added.
        "How so?" Aristi looked puzzled.
        "Wongnits tend to flay in their sleep. Some part of their minds is always prepared to deflect unwanted interest - viciously, at times."
        "So a wongnit cannot be trusted, even in sleep." Aristi shook his head.
        "Father," Thyme snickered, "I did not say that. I merely issued a gentle warning."
        "One, I take it, that I can be dwelling on, when I go to heal the second wongnit." Aristi looked annoyed. Thyme, watching his father's face, snorted with amusement.
*
        "That's better," David Nickelson said, seeing the resigned look creep into Mari's face.
        Using her good arm, she pushed herself upward, coming unsteadily to her feet. "If you don't want me to fight you," she said, "then give me the bag."
        Smiling, he picked the bag up off the floor. He tossed it up and down, rather like a juggler's ball, enjoying the cringing look on Mari's face. "Of course," he said, "I could just chuck it at the wall -" he said, pretending to suit action to words.
        Mari groaned, sinking down on her knees again, horrified at what Lily must be feeling. She knew it was Lily in the bag - all her senses told her so - and she wondered what damage he may have done to her small person already.
        Nickelson dropped the bag on the floor, before approaching the healer. He bent over and pulled Mari up, ignoring her swift intake of breath. "It's all right, Lady. Just kidding." Putting an arm around her, he swooped down and snatched up the shirt-bag once again. Holding it flat on his palm, he openly admired the fairy-generated light peeping through the cloth. He tossed it up once, then held it firmly. "This may be worth even more than you are, Healer." He started to pull Mari over to the window.
        "Wait!" Mari said breathlessly. "If you really want me to do some healing, then I'll need my crystals."
        David looked disbelieving. "Why?" he asked flatly.
        "That's how it works - through the crystals."
        David studied her, using his senses to try to determine whether there was any truth in what she said. "Okay," he finally agreed. "Where are they? Tell me quickly," he threatened, "or this little thing is going to part with a wing."
        "There - on the table."
        "This rock?" He looked at the sparkling, multi-coloured crystals with dark centres. "Well, I guess if they can store megabytes of info on a computer chip, I suppose I can believe these little rocks can heal the sick." He plunked them into her palm.
        Mari studied the crystals Katy had produced for her, a short time ago, in a world many dimensions from this one. The hazards that had nearly overwhelmed them in that other world suddenly seemed tame compared to this deliberate, calculated assault upon their persons. I guess it all depends on your point of view, she thought. As Mari clenched the crystals tightly against her chest, she vowed not to use them unless this man attempted to make good his threat to harm Lily, or any of the other people she held dear. It's not my right to set a value on this man's life, she told herself, unless he tries to devalue the ones I love. Even then, she didn't know if she'd find it in herself to use the power against him. She had too many ingrained years of fighting for life, to try to willingly destroy it.
        But, she thought, watching him swing the bag Lily was in, if I can't take a life, I might just alter it a little instead. Clenching the corrupted crystals so they bit into her palm, she stumbled as he pushed her toward the window. He forced her through, then searched his surroundings for anyone who might be watching. Half-carrying her, he swung her off the porch, and tugged her firmly around the back of the house.
*
        Horace and Jordan witnessed the three-legged dash, as Peter and Kelwin did their uneven lope for the trees. Horace looked at the other man. "Well?" he asked.
        Jordan sighed. "Right. This emergency first, phone call later." Whatever had happened, was serious enough for Peter to risk his leg. Seeing the direction they were heading, he added, "It looks like it has to do with the tree problem, anyway."
        Peter was having serious difficulty in controlling his anger. He wanted to blame it on his frustration; on the fact that he felt he was dwelling within a sensory cocoon, but his mind told him that wasn't enough to explain the irritability that seemed to be niggling at every nerve end.
        Demascar was doing exactly that: niggling away at him, increasing his edginess, wearing his body down to make him more susceptible to infection. Inflaming his leg, causing his temperature to jump up and down. Cutting back his resistance. The infection, when it came, wouldn't be an attack by an opportunistic virus or bacterium, but rather, a massive invasion by molecules that should never have lingered past their former owner's journey to the grave. Peter's current lack of sensitivity was a product of Demascar's waiting presence, which lingered outside Peter's every pore, every orifice - seeking to physically link up once again with that portion hiding deep inside Peter's cells.
        The battle within sapped his energies, and filled him with undirected fury. He wondered whether he'd picked up a virus somewhere in his journeys, as he was besieged by yet another wave of fever.
        "You're burning up!" Kelwin told him, nervous about what unknown bugs this guy might be carrying. Peter didn't comment. He merely turned to give Kelwin a look that matched his mood.
        As they came down the hill, Peter stumbled, incautiously placing weight on his injured limb. He would have gone down if it weren't for Kelwin.
        Peter's unholy invader was still exploring, discreetly manipulating chemical balances; testing the results. Now, he wondered whether taxing the mutant's body to this extent might overly deplete it, rendering it useless when the moment of surrender finally arrived. Demascar moved out of Peter's hidden recesses, seeking to assume momentary control.
        As Peter stumbled again, blackness impinged on his vision, and he gripped Kelwin's shirt as he fought to stay conscious. He experienced a curious resurgence of strength, that didn't seem to help him at all. It was the last thing he remembered.
        Kelwin watched as Trevick shook his head, as though clearing it. "You okay?" he asked.
        The eyes that met his were clear, with no trace of the pain-filled haze they'd held only moments before. "Of course," came the response. Then, Trevick pulled away from Kelwin's touch, his distaste at the physical contact obvious. Sneering, he commanded, "Keep your hands off me, if you don't want them broken." Trevick continued on, only a slight limp marring his passage.
        "I don't get it," Kelwin muttered. Only a moment before, Trevick had been leaning on him so hard that he'd almost had to carry him. Kelwin had formed the impression of a nice guy caught in bad circumstances. Now, he began to wonder if turning green had also turned all of these people nuts.
*
        Trevor sat there yawning, unaware at first that Melpis' head had ended up in his lap. He started to shift her, when he heard Thyme's voice say warningly, "Wongnits tend to rip first, and ask questions later. If you still prize those trinkets at the base of your torso, you assbag, I'd freeze until she wakes up."
        Trevor froze everything but his eyes, which were shifting wildly, as he sought the fairy. "Well, wake her up then!" he said in a desperate whisper.
        "You should know by now that you can't rush a wongnit," Thyme said mockingly.
        "Thyme!" Trevor pleaded. "My 'trinkets' are my one claim to fame." He gave what he hoped was a winning smile.
        "In that case, you'll never be famous," the fairy snickered.
        Aristi freed Deron from the last vestiges of entangling hyphae. Deron shook himself, tip to tail, hair all askew. He stretched hairy limbs as Thyme asked him to rouse Melpis.
        Aristi hovered near Melpis' head, brandishing the healing crystal, almost like a shield, as he fought to lighten the wongnit's yet-deep sleep. Melpis stirred, as she had earlier. Suddenly, her claws lashed out, making the older fairy start in surprise. Thyme yanked his father back, out of her immediate reach, while Trevor battled to control everything from his bladder, to his heartbeat. Think of me as a rock, he prayed. A lump in the soil. An uncomfortable bed. It didn't work. Still in the uncertainty of half-sleep, Melpis turned on the human.
        Melpis was fast, but Deron was quicker. He caught her claws in mid-air, tugging her joyously off Trevor's lap, to drag her limpness in rolling circles until she was fully alert.
        Trevor heaved a sigh of relief, then turned, to see if Katy was awake. She was still listlessly bound by the yawning uncertainty of half sleep. Silent, she turned her head to stare off in the direction they'd come. Unaware that he was watching, she lightly fingered the bite mark on her neck, going around the toothed impressions gingerly, her expression sad.
        Trevor, his tone serious, asked, "Did Peter do that?"
        Katy jumped, removing her hand, and letting her hair swing down to cover the marks. "What?" Her expression was still somewhat vague, but Trevor knew she understood him.
        "Your neck. Was that Peter's doing?"
        "I don't know what you're talking about, Trevor," she said, avoiding his eyes.
        "Let me see it, Katy." He stood up, prepared to insist that he get a closer look.
        Thyme blocked his way. "No, Trevor."
        "But her neck -"
        "I know."
        "You know! Why didn't you say something?"
        Thyme hovered in front of him, his glowing eyes meeting Trevor's own. "There was no need, Trevor. If you remember, Katy already had." He flew away, to hover at Katy's side, before leading the way out of the blue hyphae'd maze.
*
        Henry was ready. Actually, he'd talked himself into being ready hours ago, after rejoining Colleen in the lounge. Now, he told her, "I'm going over to Trevick's place."
        "Wait a minute! What if things are as bad there as they were at my house?"
        "Then, I'll have wasted my time." There was a trace of asperity in his voice now. "Haven't you noticed how little this has affected the rest of the world? You watch the news." She nodded, suddenly mute. "I just want to see how everyone else is doing. If the roads are clear, then I can take you to visit your sister - like you wanted." And your sister can enjoy your company. At least, she's a relative. Henry had almost decided he'd rather be bunking with the ghost.
        "What about the ghost?" Her question bordered so closely on his thoughts that he nearly jumped.
        "The ghost?"
        It was her turn to be impatient. "The ghost you insisted you saw at Peter Trevick's."
        "I've given that a lot of thought. Ghosts can't actually harm you -" he started to say, then remembered the black nemesis in Trevick's lounge. Changing his tactics, he continued, "It doesn't matter anyway, because I won't be in the house unless someone invites me." He added the clincher. "Look, if you aren't comfortable staying here alone, you can always come with me." He put on his jacket, careful not to look in her direction. She was moving around, obviously searching for something, and his curiosity finally got the better of him. "What are you doing?" he asked, unable to help the note of dismay that crept into his voice.
        She had found his jean jacket, and was rolling up the sleeves to fit her shorter arms. He hadn't reckoned on her toughness. "Coming with you, of course," she said, smiling.
*
        "Look at this stuff!" Jordan said, fascinated by the intricate growth patterns of the tree parasite.
        "Great," Horace mumbled noncommittally. He gave a courtesy look around, then concentrated again on the trail Kelwin and Trevick had made through the grass. He didn't see what this scientist guy was going on about. It just looked like a bunch of dead trees to him. He was more interested in how the two men in front of him had managed to pick up speed. Trevick had looked like he was barely able to walk before; like Kelwin had been largely carrying him. Now, it seemed he was able to make it on his own, and at a good clip, too.
*
        Trevor was staring at the ground, his expression serious. He was thinking about what Thyme had said, but it didn't gel with what he'd seen at the house. That had been Peter - he was sure of it - and Katy must have been, too, or she wouldn't have given him a hug. He remembered the way Katy had been tossing and turning, muttering weird things in her sleep when he'd left her under the trees with Lily. Staring now at her back, he wondered if maybe something had gone wrong with her healing - or with Peter's. Considering the two of them, though, he had to admit that Katy had been acting stranger than Peter.
        But then, there was the bite. No way that could have been self-inflicted. What if Peter had been caught up in dreams, much as Katy had, and the bite was part of his nightmare - only neither of them realised it? His lips curled in a slight smile, sure he'd hit upon the solution. Peter would never hurt Katy; his action had been like the wongnit's: just a self-defence response. Trevor relaxed, whistling now. He hurried forward to tell Katy, knowing how much better it would make her feel.
*
        Qualice saw a yassel in the distance: a small one whose crabwalk was still uneven; a refugee whose slower pace had left it behind. This wee one didn't know enough to be frightened of the gnome. In fact, they were much of a size, and its young-sounding yabbers were more of excitement than terror.
        Qualice wrinkled his nose. Yassels, young or old, smelled foully. Their personal scent was reminiscent of dung, but seemed to incorporate some identity from the nasal passages of the inhaler, to make the odour individually repellent. Just as most animals won't foul their eating or living areas, they also tend to reject playing with their own faeces. Qualice's sensitive nostrils began a convulsion of revulsion as he came close to the baby yassel. He tried breathing through his mouth, but that was too much like swallowing that awful smell. Giving up, he made himself ignore his oscillating nose muscles, and give the yassel a smile.
        Gyris wondered where the yassels were going. He knew they would be uncomfortable in the open, for yassels despised even the possibility of a wetting. Did they know of caverns nearby, where fellow yassels spent their days? Or were they still seeking shelter, hoping to find it in these hills? Although Gyris' thinking was, at times, ponderously slow, these questions pounded their way into his brain as he shuffled his way in Qualice's wake. He was worried now, for he'd been this way before - and recently. The yassels were coming uncomfortably close to the Shimmer's lair, and he had no intention of following them into the Shimmer's gluttonous gullet.
*
        "Hey, wait a minute!" Kelwin called Peter back. "Aren't they down there?" He watched as the other man turned, giving him a dirty, red-glinted look.
        "So?"
        "I thought you were keen to go to the rescue."
        "Maybe I was." Trevick turned and started cutting a new path through the grass.
        "Where are you going now?"
        "Away."
        Kelwin was getting angry. He couldn't figure this guy out, but he didn't like being played for a fool. He grabbed Trevick's arm, and yanked him around.
        It was a mistake. Kelwin had never reckoned on Peter's superior strength - not after the way he'd had to support him before. Peter grabbed the front of Kelwin's shirt, twisting it in his hand to tighten it, making Kelwin feel as though it was suddenly three sizes too small.
"What are you doing?!" he squeaked out, his alarm apparent, as Peter glared at him with searing, hate-filled eyes.
        "Deciding." His control was weakening. He had too little of his essence invested in this human to be able to maintain his dominance indefinitely. Frustrated, he tossed Kelwin aside. He would have loved to grind this fellow to a pulp, but the real Peter Trevick would be bound to return in the middle of things, and then all would be lost. For, that one would never complete the job, and the body that Jarrod Demascar had been so patient to procure might well be damaged.
        Kelwin Stewart remained on his feet. He came at Peter Trevick aggressively, angry now, and shoved him with the flat of his palms.
        Trevor Richmond's voice rang out through the air as Peter staggered back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Light invaded Peter's vision, as Demascar fled, submerging himself into Peter's tissues, relinquishing control once more.
        Katy started running, but Trevor was quicker. He yanked Stewart back, while Katy balanced Peter, steadying him so he wouldn't fall. Trevor was shoving Kelwin now, but it was Peter who protested. "Trev, what're you doing?" He sounded shocked. "He was coming with me to rescue you -"
        Trevor still had his hands clenched in fists. "That was no rescue I saw, Pete. Don't cover for him. I saw him shoving you."
        Peter shook his head. "No way. I think I must have passed out, but I remember him helping me." Peter put his hand on Trevor's shoulder, a big grin on his face. "But thanks for coming to rescue me, while I was busy rescuing you," he said.
        Trevor still looked unconvinced, partly because of the look on Kelwin's face, and partly because the man still radiated both anger and confusion. Peter looked past Trevor's shoulder now, eyes focusing, for the first time, on the infested trees. Giving Katy an absent-minded squeeze, he pushed her gently to one side, and hopped over to inspect the damage close up. "Incredible!" he said.
        Thyme and Trevor looked at each other, saying simultaneously, "Now, that's Peter!" Katy's eyes warmed with an appreciative glow.
        Jordan and Horace reached them then, and Peter, taking Jordan's presence for granted, chattered to him. "I don't think it's a plant at all, Jordy."
        "Are you crazy? Of course, it's a plant -"
        "No, no - look at the cytoplasmic streaming, and the size of the individual cells. Some of the Phycomyces are large -"
        "But not this big!"
        "Jordy, I'm serious! I think it's an overgrown mycelial mass!"
        "Any idea which group?"
        "Not Zygo or Oomycete - too many septa. It might be Ascomycotina, but we won't know unless we can find, or grow, a sexual stage. Let's see - conidiophores, rather than sporangiophores - I think we'll just have to call it a Deuteromycete." Scanning the growth in the treetops, he added, "One massive muther of a Deuteromycete."
        Jordan nodded. "Well, I guess knowing the enemy makes it better." His look was doubtful. "We can do some fungicide screening, to see if it responds to anything. I've got to admit the idea of a fungus this omnivorous, and this invasive, scares the hell out of me."
        Peter sighed. "When I was still an undergrad, I really got into studying fungi. I used to joke around, telling people, 'Fungus rules the world'. God, I'd hate to think I was right."
*
        "Lily!" Thyme's wings buzzed, his agitation apparent.
        "How can that be? I left her with Cyrnol -" Aristi was disconcerted that even something so simple as a fairy's rest, should be unsafe in this odd world.
        "She needs me -" Thyme darted away, his movements so swift that his aura was like a stream of light to the watching humans.
        "Peter, I'm going with Thyme -" Katy started to say, noticing that, in his absorption, he hadn't even heard her. "Trevor, could you tell Peter -" she began, but he interrupted her.
        "I'm coming, too."
        "I'll tell him," Horace offered.
        Katy smiled her thanks and turned to go. She looked around, to find Horace still watching her. "Peter," she said hesitantly, "tends to get caught up in his work. Will you make sure he doesn't - get caught up, that is?" Horace nodded, giving her a big wink. She turned and ran off, tagging along after the two bright auras moving speedily up the hill.

Buy the print book
Buy the ebook - read it now!


*
        Qualice saw the first weaving ribbons of the gate's light, and urged the small yassel to move more quickly. If they were already near the portal, then they were far too close to the Shimmer. Hearing a rustle in the trees to his right, he flinched, and placed the yassel behind him, wishing he had his water-shooter to defend them. Fearful that this might be a dreaded Sylybin, he quivered, trying to make himself as small as possible, while still hiding the little yassel. Gyris, observing his response, yanked the leaves from his feet, then thundered toward the quailing gnome.
        The underlit shrubbery and emerald grass parted, to reveal the great purple head of a cat-beast. Seeing it slink forward, Qualice cowered before the sharp expanse of teeth, realising only belatedly that the mouth was parted in a smile. Cyrnol! Qualice uncoiled himself out of a near-knotlike tenseness, and greeted his friend with an answering smile. Gyris' thudding approach slowed, and the big cat yawned, illustrating his lack of concern for their initially wary responses. It was, after all, what a cat-beast grew to expect.
        Qualice spoke urgently to Cyrnol, assuming he would help them, happy now that they had another ally. "The yassels fear us -" he began in Cyrnol's own tongue, then had to wait until the cat-beast finished laughing. Slightly affronted, the gnome explained further. "I wet a yassel, and then, in apology, we blew them up." His confused explanation set Cyrnol off once more. The purple cat's rumble frightened Gyris, until he realised that Cyrnol was nearly hysterical with mirth.
        "And now what?" Cyrnol asked Qualice. "Murder? Mayhem? Feeding them to the Shimmer?" He paused, considering the matter. "I don't think the Shimmer would be all that grateful."
        Qualice's irritation was obvious. "The matter is urgent, Cyrnol. We must apologise once more, then see them home to their caverns."
        "Will you apologise then, as you did before?" the cat asked with a grin.
        Gyris' deep voice cut through the levity lingering behind the cat's smile. "We have done them harm, and Qualice says we must fix it. It is possible that the yassels fear you more than they fear us. Perhaps you could help us to stop their flight."
        The length of the gargoyle's speech did much to impress Cyrnol, who knew that the gargoyles were not prone to either thinking, or long conversations. The thought of the yassels being more frightened of this silly gnome, and this rock-like gargoyle, than they were of him, was, at once, annoying, and terribly amusing. However, these two oddities were his friends, a thing the cat-beast possessed in limited numbers. "Very well," he said, grumbling. "But, we do it my way."
*
        Kelwin was watching Peter Trevick, and Horace was watching Kelwin. "Spill it, Kelwin," Horace said softly.
        "I just don't get it. That guy's either schizo or putting on a good act."
        "He looks okay to me."
        "That's just it." Kelwin turned to Horace, his voice rising in irritation. Horace shushed him. "That's just it," Kelwin said again, this time in a whisper. "One minute everything's fine, and the next, I could swear he'd tear out my throat - if he thought he could get away with it."
        Horace was certain Stewart was exaggerating. "He wouldn't have the strength to tear out your throat." He chuckled. "Your fingernails; maybe a hair or two; your eyelashes; a button or two off your shirt - but that's it. He can barely stand up. He might want to do you damage, but you could flatten him with your breath."
        Kelwin's voice was serious. "You don't believe me," he said flatly. "Well, you just watch him, Horace. Like the lady said, keep your eyes on him. What you see, might just surprise you."
***

Chapter Four


        "Mari!" Katy exclaimed. She was running alongside Trevor when the awareness hit her, that Lily was not alone in her trouble; that Mari was also in near despair.
        Trevor nodded grimly. "I should have realised, when Peter turned up down below, that Mari was unprotected."
        "She had Paul Gatley with her."
        "She was unprotected, Katy. Paul Gatley's only human."
        She was stunned by his words, but knew he was right. Even while they clung to their humanity, like a lifeline through a titanic storm, they'd all come to accept that their abilities had gone far beyond any they used to possess. I guess I've come to grips with what I am, Katy thought, and even learned to appreciate it. She realised that experience had been a grim, but effective, teacher. Without these gifts we now consider our own, we would never have survived.
        She picked up speed, trying not to fall too far behind Trev. She thought of Mari: injured, upset, frightened. Cursing those who dared to harm her friend, she acknowledged something else. Without those same gifts, we might never have had our survival challenged.
*
        Mari sensed that Thyme wasn't far away. In the next moment, a warm feeling swept through her: Trevor was also nearby. Her concerns for Lily's safety grew, as she wondered how this sadist would respond to opposition. She wasn't worried for herself; obviously this man Nickelson had been ordered to bring her in, and probably in fairly decent condition. Unfortunately, Thyme's appearance, in all his angry splendour, might be enough to convince the man that one fairy was expendable, if another was readily available. Thyme, for all his insight, would be unprepared to deal with someone who'd just as soon kill Lily, as keep her. Nickelson had probably decided a hefty bonus would be forthcoming upon producing the fairy, with her glowing aura and gilt wings. But to Nickelson, it wouldn't matter which fairy. And Mari didn't want Lily sacrificed to the man's greed.
        Unobtrusively, she moved closer to Nickelson, feigning a weakness she didn't feel, her anger having driven away all thoughts of her incapacity. She wanted to be close enough to touch him, if the occasion warranted - to use the power of this distorted crystalline rock, to gain the advantage. She didn't know what it would do, but it didn't matter. Whatever wrong she did, it would be in the belief that she might later be able to put it right.
*
        Edwin was frustrated. He realised he may have been wrong in assuring Horace that he'd be able to find this guy. Although Edwin's healing episode had heightened his awareness, he'd done enough reading recently to understand that his new ability would best be termed precognitive. He had an inkling, an intimation - a premonition, even - of what was to come, but that didn't exactly work like some kind of supernatural radar. I might be able to figure out where this Nickelson is going to be ten minutes from now, but for the moment, I don't have a clue. He warred with himself whether to follow logic, and check out the tractor shed, or his instincts, and make for the trees, where they'd first seen the healer at work, and where he sensed the man would eventually end up.
        The years of making logical decisions won. Moving silently, he urged Alex Westerley in the direction of one of the concrete and dirt mounds, which loomed ingloriously between them and the shed. He assumed that Horace and Jordan had joined Vicki and Gatley in the lounge, so it never occurred to him to check inside. Even though, according to the rumour mill at good ol' HQC, Nickelson was one ballsy son-of-a-bitch, Ed didn't think even he would dare to confront all the strong arms between himself and the healer.
        Ed was getting superstitious, and hated himself for it. He knew it had to do with this - at times unwanted - gift of prophesy. It wasn't totally reliable; he couldn't turn it on and off as he chose, and it certainly wasn't all-inclusive. But, damn it, if he pictured lightning striking a place, his own sense of self-preservation wouldn't permit him to get near that place, even if the day was as hot and sunny as this one, and even if the event wouldn't take place for the next ten years. Hexed. Superstitious. Stupid.
        Right now, he was congratulating himself for following his logic, rather than his intuition. At the same time, he was worried that he was making a big mistake, somehow. But, maybe the reason Nickelson is going to be near the trees, where I picture him, is because Westerley and I are going to chase him there.
        Just to reassure himself, he took a quick glance across the pastureland, toward the forest. He couldn't see anyone or anything now. But, there was always the possibility Nickelson was lurking there, hidden. Ed wondered if a lifetime of this kind of ambivalence would eventually drive him nuts. Shaking his head at his own confusion, he nudged Westerley's arm, and they headed once again toward the outbuilding. They'd only gone a few paces, however, when a loud crunching and scrabbling sound under the house brought them to full alert.
        Alex tensed, picturing what David Nickelson would want to do to him after having knocked him silly. With Nickelson's type, you could be sure it would be payback: any way he could, and at any time. He found he was sweating.
        The sound came again, followed this time by an odd grunting sound. Edwin looked over at Alex, eyebrows raised, his expression curious. Alex couldn't enlighten him. It wasn't any sound he recognised. Then, a groan - almost like someone's moaning anguish - came drifting out from under the house. "What the hell?" whispered Ed.
        "Maybe he got stuck under there," Alex remarked.
        The two exchanged unhappy looks. Neither wanted to be caught under the house with a near-psychotic individual. Alex had read Nickelson's file, but the dry words couldn't compare with the rumours Ed had told him about the man's activities at HQC. Alex suspected that a lot had been deliberately kept off the record.
        Ed hadn't spared Alex when he talked to him about Nickelson's reputation and suspected methods. He figured a little healthy fear might keep Westerley alive.
        At the time, Alex had thought these men were all pretty much alike, and didn't see any reason for hiding the disgust he felt for their "breed". Now, he was beginning to change his mind.
        Without discussing it, they both dropped to the ground, using their elbows and knees in weird scooting motions, to pull themselves under the shallow gap between house and soil. Some of the spiders under here were big, brown, and hairy, and Alex cringed. He'd always hated spiders - especially spiders who were too dumb to realise that you were too big for a proper meal; who dropped on you, then crawled around on those tickly legs, trying to poison-fang you to death. He flicked one off his arm and squished it, thinking, Stick that in your web, or your ass, or whatever else you fancy, you eight-legged ugly. Ping - splat! Another one went sailing, to leave its battered remains in the dirt. Show that to your relations, he thought. Distracted as he was, with eyes as yet unadjusted to the light, it was no wonder that the attack, when it came, was such a shock.
        The thing had claws. His only real warning was a stirring of dirt, a whisper of fetid breath, and the thing was on him. Startled at the high squeals of his attacker, caught in the half-light of the near subterranean environment, tortured by the scraping of claws down his arm - he lashed out, landing a blow with his fist, on what he thought was the thing's head. The creature, contrary to being deterred, responded in aural fury, giving loud growls and hollow, echoing yells. Alex started yelling, too.
        Edwin, unable to see what was happening in the dim and dusty confines, reached out, to grab what he thought would be Alex's arm or shoulder. Instead, he got a grip on something hairy and round, that felt suspiciously like some animal's genitals, and he yelped in surprise. So did the unknown animal.
        Alex, in a panic, scraped, scritched, and scooted backwards - wanting only to be out of there, free of the dark, the dust, and that thing. After all that he'd seen and heard about, his mind was twisting in unlimited visions - horror-filled pictures of demented creatures that wanted to tear him apart, consume him, render any number of unmentionable beastly acts upon his person.
        Wrapped up in his own terror, he kept moving backwards, until the sweet smell of grass under his noise told him he could open his eyes. He discovered that he was not only clear of the house, but three metres out from the building.
        He breathed a sigh of relief, then sucked it back in again as he looked around for Edwin. Terrified, he saw that Edwin was still submerged, with only his feet poking out from the shadows.
        His fear gave him strength, and Alex set his jaw, determined to save the other man. Latching on to Edwin's legs, he yanked him so violently, that Ed, whether he liked it or not, found himself on a one-way trip through the dirty gravel, cement-chip, and wood slivers that littered the uneven ground. Ed wouldn't have minded half so much if he hadn't made the trip on his face.
         Still panicked, unable to think, Alex tugged Edwin further, pulling him clear of the house, and out onto the drive. As his own feet crunched gravel, he suddenly realised what he was doing, and dropped Edwin's legs with a resounding thunk.
        Edwin rolled over slowly and sat up, while Alex watched warily, wondering what this guy was going to do to him. Edwin's entire body was coated with dirt, particularly his hair, which lay in dirt-encrusted coils. Sitting there so stiffly, eyes closed and muscles tensed in annoyance, he had the vacant-eyed look of a Greek statue gone wrong.
        The opening of his eyelids stirred little avalanches of dirt down his face, and his eyes appeared oddly bright against the dusty brownness, as did his tongue and teeth, when he opened his mouth to speak. "I suppose -" Ed spat out some of the crumbling soil that was falling off his lips, "- that (spit) I should (spit) thank you (cough) (spit)," he said, his voice heavily sarcastic.
        Alex didn't know what to say. Shaky still, he responded with the first words that popped into his head. "My pleasure," he said.
*
        Mari huddled on the edge of her seat, as far away from Nickelson as she could get, while he tried to start the car. When he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, she jumped, then immediately regretted it. The extra jarring to her shoulder almost made her pass out.
        Nickelson was fuming. He realised he'd been duped - that someone had deliberately dismantled something in the engine. It bothered him that they'd second-guessed him, but it didn't particularly surprise him. He assumed that the sabotage had been performed by one of his former co-workers. And, after all, they'd all been trained by the same man - but, he thought with a smile that would've made Mari shudder had she been watching, I was trained better.
        He usually minimised his frustrations by taking them out on somebody else. He thought about Mari Sullivan, but she was already looking pretty bad. It'd be tough enough now to convince his employers that this really was the healer.
        He lifted up the makeshift bag, and shook it a little. The winged thing wasn't wiggling any more, and he figured it wouldn't be worth nearly as much dead as alive and glowing.
        He clambered out, moved around to Mari's side of the car, and yanked her out. Her unwilling groan of pain did much to appease his annoyance, bringing a smile to his lips. Forcing her to sit on the side of the road, he checked Westerley's car. Locked, and no keys. He considered breaking a window, and hot-wiring it, but he sensed they were already looking for him. By the time he went through all the rigamarole, they'd have him, encumbered as he was.
        Suddenly, he had a thought. "How do you get one of those horses to fly?" he asked.
        "You can't. Not unless they want to."
        "What would make them want to? This?" He kicked her in the leg. "Or this?" He aimed his foot at her face, but stopped just short of her cheek - satisfied when she cowered, burying her face in her good arm. She still wouldn't answer. "Well," he said, jovially, "I think we'll just take our chances." As she started to struggle to her feet, he paused. "Wait a minute. I just want to see what the opposition's up to." He pulled a scrap of shirt material from his pocket, smil