Oh! Her hand flew to her throat. You made me jump, she said. What’re you doin?
Checkin on the horses, he said.
She went to Prue’s stall to stroke her nose. No Hermes, I see, she said. I guess Saba’s gone to meet her contact agin.
He bit off his frustration. Seems so, he said. Go, he thought. Please, Molly, go.
But Molly was in no hurry. Fussing Prue’s ears, stroking her neck, she took in his coat with a quizzical look. Cooled down already? she said.
He had no hope of catching up with Saba now. He’d left it too late. Another chance blown. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around Molly’s shoulders. Don’t catch a chill, he said.
So gallant, she said with a smile. She smelled of warm summer roses. And, just like that, he was trembling. She always had that effect on him. Her smile, her smell, her beauty.
In a hot rush, he had her in his arms, pressed to the stable wall. And they were kissing. Touching. Hungrily. Breathlessly.
She pulled away. Put her fingers to his lips. Somebody might see us, she said. She was trembling now too. Oh gawd, she said, what you do to me. Every time. It ain’t seemly.
You taught me, he said.
A frown creased her forehead. I shouldn’t of, she said. We should never of started this. I never meant to, really, I didn’t.
I know, he said. I’m a boy, we ain’t in love, you still love Ike.
I want you to have what I had with him, she said.
Her breath brushed him sweetly. One of these days I will, he said. So I need to know how to please a woman. Yer teachin me. That’s all this is.
They stared at each other for a moment. A smile began to curve her lips. Lesson time, she said.
Then she took his hand in hers. And she led him away to the woods.
NIGHT SIX
ME AN HERMES COME AT THE BUNKER FROM THE NORTH. I ain’t familiar with this approach, so despite I’m on the lookout fer it, we come upon it sudden. So sudden that the shock hits me in the gut. We’re on top of a low ridge among some trees.
Here it is. The little hill. In the middle of the sweetgrass meadow. It looks a hill like any other. You’d never think it held such a secret at its heart. The Wrecker bunker, deep within. The white room where DeMalo shares his visions of a long-fergot, long-lost world. The visions that I was witness to.
An here I am agin. I swing myself down from Hermes an look out over the meadow. Where he kissed me in a sudden summer rain. Where we ran through the grass, with my hand in his. Through the rain, through the woods, to his bed by Weepin Water. Where I gave myself to him. Took him fer my first. Where I lost myself in him an nearly didn’t come back.
The hilltop’s bin cleared of blackberry bramble. Gone, the rich fruit that smothered its slopes, that sweetened that hot summer day. The meadow’s bin cut. The ground’s hard with stubble, silvered an shaded by the moon. Shootin stars dash the night sky.
A nightpip kriks, quick an scratchy. Then it calls agin. Then, Saba! Over here!
I jump at the urgent whisper. It’s Jack. He’s crouched behind a bush not twenny foot away. He waves me to him, impatient. My cheeks burn as I make my way to him. Like he might of overheard my thoughts. The heartstone’s warm. I didn’t notice.
I leave Hermes in the trees with Jack’s pony, Kell. He yanks me down beside him. What’s with you? he hisses furiously. Yer stood there like a stooky an I’m pippin my damn head off. Shh! Guards comin.
As he speaks, two Tonton grunts lead their horses around the hill, one from each direction. They meet at the bunker entrance. A sturdy metal door set into the side of the hill, partly hid by a stray tangle of bramble. They take up position in front of it. They’re armed to the teeth an then some.
I says, Tell me you brought yer Tonton gear.
Jack gives me the look. Did-I-jest-hear-you-right? You told me, he says, you never wanted to see me wear that agin.
Typical, I says. You never do what I tell you. The one time you shouldn’t do what I tell you, you go an do what I tell you. Dammit, now you even got me talkin like you. Gimme that thing.
I snatch his long-looker from him.
So … I’ll dress Tonton next time. Or not. He shakes his head, bemused. By the way, he says, I like the fightgear. It’s very, uh … it’s very.
I squint, tunin the looker. Oh yeah, I fergot, I says. You got a weakness fer violent women.
Only one, he says. I’m most particular.
The guards come into clear view in the looker. Hello, boys, I says.
They’re too shadowed by the hill fer me to see their faces, but they’re stickin close to each other, almost shoulder to shoulder. Rattled by the fallin stars, judgin by how often they look at the sky. Maybe keepin count of the unquiet souls on the move, like Pa used to do with us. Their horses sense their mood an shift in restless unease.
Tell you what, says Jack. Middle of nowhere, middle of the night, two guards with full hardware … DeMalo’s got somethin in there he wants to keep safe. Well, there’s only one way in an only one way to git in. He picks up his bow from the ground beside him. I’ll take out the guy on the right, he says. You bag Lefty. I’ll count three.
Wait, I says. A bird, starkly black, crosses the white face of the moon. It sails towards us. Nero, I says.
My gut tightens with irritation. Emmi. She’s done it agin. She cannot be depended on. So much fer all her big promises.
Nero seizes the chance to buzz the guards. He knows an hates the blackcloaks. He drops silent from the night, straight at their heads. They cower with cries of alarm. As he swoops off, they huddle aginst the bunker door.
Guess they ain’t animal lovers, says Jack.
They’re afeared of him, I says.
Nero lands in a tree behind us. He drops on Jack’s shoulder an beaks my head.
Hey! I jerk away. Okay, I’m sorry.
What’s got him miffed? says Jack.
I’ll tell you later, I says. I lift the looker agin. As I watch, one of the guards steps from the safety of the doorway. He checks the sky, firestick at the ready, probly to see if Nero’s still about. I study his face, lit by the moon. He’s young. An he’s fearful. He says somethin to his mate. They’re both well jittery.
Let’s git on with this. Jack’s loadin his bow.
No, I says. We don’t need to shoot ’em.
An jest how do you think we’ll git in there? he says. Ask ’em nicely? Look at ’em, Saba, they’re trigger happy.
No, you look. I shove the looker into his hands. They’re afeared, Jack, I says. You can see it. They don’t wanna be here. They don’t like the starfall, they’re spooked by the crow, they’re out here alone an they’re young an green.
I see what you mean, he says. Maybe they heard the stories goin round about you. The fearsome Angel of Death an her miraculous escape from Resurrection. She killed ten men, twenny—no—thirty. It’s all bin hushed up an she’s still in New Eden. No, I heard she died in a blaze of fire. I met this guy, he seen her ghost with his own eyes. Ridin the night with her wolfdog an her crow, seekin vengeance on them that took her life.
It’s you that’s bin plantin them rumours, I says. I should of known.
I only fed what was already there, he says. Word spreads like wildfire in this place. The Angel of Death has a strong hold on people’s minds. The unbeaten fighter who killed a king an destroyed his kingdom. Powerful stuff. We gotta use every advantage we have.