Ariel (25 page)

I swallowed hard. By then I had made up my mind to go for him. I truly didn't care what happened to me as long as Ariel was all right.

She must have seen it in my eyes, for she shook her head slowly and said, gently but firmly, "Go on, Pete."

Shai-tan stood, craning her neck, head flicking about alertly. I rocked in the saddle and grasped the long horn in both hands. The rider released the reins. "Take him up," he told the griffin mildly.

The street wheeled as the griffin turned and took two running steps that jarred my teeth. Two great flaps of the sail-sized wings and we were aloft. We climbed steeply. I looked down and managed to glimpse Ariel looking up at me, the rider and our captors around her. Shai-tan began circling and I had to look away because the ground began to revolve slowly and I thought I'd be sick if I kept looking. The griffin made two complete circuits in an upward spiral around the skyscraper. To my left the building seemed to rotate clockwise. We were about three hundred feet up when Shai-tan headed north, away from the building. We were still climbing. Skyscrapers rose ahead of us. I recognized the Pan Am and Chrysler buildings. Soon they began to give way beneath us and I saw Central Park ahead. The view was marvelous, unhampered by smog. I held on to the saddlehorn for dear life, rocking in time to the griffin's surging wingbeats. Shai-tan called out, a predator's cry echoing into the canyons of the city. We banked right, turning a hundred eighty degrees. We were now about three-quarters of the way to the top, around nine hundred feet up. The World Trade Center was bluish gray in the distance. Beyond lay Battery Park. I searched the blue expanse of water farther on, but saw no sign of a boat. I hoped Shaughnessy was all right. If she'd been with us when we were captured she'd have gone with us, and if we'd tried to fight our way out of it she'd have fought alongside us. And died alongside us, too. I'd seen no reason for it; it wasn't her fight. I'd sent her back to the
Lady Woof
in case there was a trap, so at least she could get away.

My hair streamed back in the wind rushing at my face. The powerful back muscles of the griffin flexed beneath me as its wings grabbed air. To have a Familiar such as this! The feeling of power it would give to soar above the cities, to command the pent-up fury within this creature!

I remembered Russ Chaffney and felt ashamed.

Cars had become motionless beetles; people weren't even large enough to be called ants in comparison. Men waited on the perimeter of the eighty-sixth floor observatory, the only suitable place to land; the protective metal fencing that had once been set in the guard wall had been removed.

The cathedral-like Chrysler Building and the blue strip of the East River were now to my left. Except for the sound of the wind rushing past my ears, it was deadly quiet down there

As we neared the eighty-sixth floor it became apparent that the only place with enough room for Shai-tan to land was one of the corners; the guard wall jutted irregularly and the walkway was too narrow, only about ten to twelve feet wide. The building slid underneath and Shai-tan cupped her wings, braking by air drag. The griffin landed smoothly on the near corner, one of her claws gripping either side of the angle of the guard wall, and folded her wings to her sides. A dozen armed men stood on the brick-colored deck before me. I gathered I was supposed to dismount where I was. It meant swinging out over open air and stepping onto the six-inch-wide wall, then stepping down from there. I glanced up at the thick needle of the TV tower rising above the observation deck and felt as if I were pitching over backward. I lowered my gaze to the wall on the left-hand side and eased out of the saddle, probing for the top of the guard wall with my right foot, slowly lowering myself until my feet touched the wall. I tried looking back over my shoulder so I could see just the wall and the observation deck without having to take in the cityscape below and ahead, but it was impossible—it was there in my peripheral vision.

Shai-tan shrieked just as my feet settled on the wall. I jerked and lost my footing. There was time only to push away from her and pitch myself backward onto the observation deck, where I was caught by the waiting men. "Thanks," I said, and then felt stupid.

Shai-tan spread her wings and jumped over our heads. A brief gust spread across the deck and she was aloft again. She rose twenty feet, flapped twice—just enough to clear her from the building—and then pulled her wings in and plummeted in a dive toward the street. I stood on tiptoe and leaned out over the wall as she dove, just managing to catch a glimpse as she cupped her wings and began to level off, and then she disappeared below one of the lower terrace levels. I was grabbed from behind and my arms were pinned behind my back. "All right, let's go," someone said. I tried to struggle but my hands were held fast. And there were at least a dozen of them, all armed. "I'm supposed to wait here!" I said over my shoulder. "They're bringing Ariel up—my friend—a unicorn—and I'm supposed to wait until she gets here."

"Get him out of here," said the voice.

"No, wait—"

They pulled me. Again I tried to protest and was punched in the kidney for my efforts. I gasped and my insides locked up when I tried to inhale. They dragged me up a short flight of steps and into a metal and glass area that used to sell souvenirs of New York City. A double elevator bank slid past, blurry, and then I was jarred as they dragged me down several flights of stairs. Keys rattled and a door opened. I was brought to my feet and turned around to face somebody. His face was blurry. I blinked to clear my vision, and when I opened my eyes again I just had time to see the flesh-colored blur before his fist hit my face. Colored explosions spread from jaw to eyes, and everything went black.

* * *

I was roughly shaken awake. Reflex took over before I was fully conscious, and I grabbed the arm tugging my shoulder and pulled. Whoever it was pitched forward, striking his head on the wall, and then they were all over me, five men crowding around me pinning me down with their knees on my arms and legs. I began struggling, then relaxed. "All right," I said. "All right. I'm not gonna resist."

I was pulled to my feet and pushed into a corridor lit by lanterns set on the floor at irregular intervals. The effect was eerie. The five men surrounding me were lit from below in pale orange, shadows making empty black sockets of their eyes.

"Where are you taking me?"

No answer. They indicated the direction I was to walk by shoving me. I stumbled, caught myself, and began walking. Our footsteps echoed in the long, empty corridors.

We stopped at a door guarded by two men in homemade armor. One of them nodded to my escort, flicked his eyes to me briefly, and opened the door outward. My escort led me in.

The room was dimly lit by five candles near the walls on the left and right. The door clicked shut behind us. The flames wavered. I smelled burning wax. The pale yellow light barely revealed an office desk with a large black chair behind it at the far end of the room. It sat before a large window which looked out on the night sky.

"That's fine." The voice came from the chair. The guards, who shifted nervously as they stood more or less at attention, turned and left the room. The candles flickered again as the door opened and shut with a final sound.

The room had been a large office. The carpet beneath my feet was plush. I tried to make out the figure behind the desk, but he was lost in the blackness of the chair. I stood my ground and said nothing.

"So you're Pete," he said. Telling me, not asking.

I took it as a question. "Who wants to know?" I asked, trying not to sound afraid. My voice cracked on the second word like a boy hitting puberty.

There was the impression of motion as hands were clasped together on the desk. "Please. I'm not impressed." His voice was low and mild. It had a persuasive, soothing quality to it, sounding faintly like a priest on a late night TV sign-off. He stood. Yellow candlelight from both sides highlighted his pale button-up shirt and dark pants. He was thin. He wasn't tall. His hair was light brown and caught gold on the ends from the candle flame. He was clean shaven. I'd walked almost nine hundred miles to confront him, and here he was.

I don't know what I'd been expecting. A tall, pointed hat, maybe, festooned with stars and crescent moons. A long, flowing robe and beard. Saruman the White.

"What have you done with Ariel?" My voice shook.

"I talked to her. That's all." He smiled. It looked genuine, unlike the rider's false cat-with-a-mouse smile. "The first thing she asked me was what I'd done with you. Obviously you both mean a great deal to each other."

"We're Familiars."

He nodded. "If you were anything else, if she were anything else, I might try to bargain with you."

"What kind of bargain?"

"Your life for her horn."

"Eat shit."

He shrugged. "It never hurts to offer. I don't have a vendetta against you. I don't care about you, or your unicorn. All I want is her horn. If I could take it and leave her alive, I would."

"What do you want it for?"

He ignored me. "She's strong, though, and she has abilities I hadn't expected." He slowly walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back against it. "But her defenses will weaken now that I have her. She's beginning to die." He paused to let that sink in.

"I'd like to make a deal," he continued. "But not with her."

"With me."

"Yes. I can't deal with her, but I can with you." He scratched his head. "I can take her horn and leave her alive, but only if she's willing."

"Why don't you ask her, then?"

"Because she wouldn't agree, of course."

"And you think I will. You want me to talk her into it."

"Think about it. You could have her, she could have you. Both of you would be alive. As I said, all I want is her horn."

"Why should I agree to that? You can't take it while she's alive. And you're not powerful enough to kill her."

"True," he acknowledged. "But, as I said, she's a captive now, and she's dying. I could wait until she's too weak to defend herself, but I don't know how long it would take. I'd rather she let me take it and have it now."

I looked down at the floor. He seemed to delight in twisting the knife.

"So I'm prepared to bargain," he continued.

"Not with me you won't." My voice quavered. "She's told me she'd die without her horn."

"I can promise you she wouldn't. If it were taken from her, yes, but not if she gave it willingly."

"I don't believe you. She wouldn't be a unicorn without her horn. No deal."

"I guess I will have to bargain with her, then."

"She'll never do it."

"I think she will. I'll offer a trade I think she'll go for, the same one I offered you—your life for her horn." There was no trace of uncertainty in his voice. "As I said, when she and I talked it was evident that you are her prime concern. I could have had you killed at any time, you know. It would have been easy to lie to her and tell her we'd kill you if she didn't cooperate."

I said nothing.

"But I think she would have known if you were dead. Or if I lied. I think she'd be able to tell that."

"I don't care what you do to me," I said, meaning it.

"That may be true, but it doesn't change anything. I'm going to put you in front of her so there'll be no mistaking my intent. If she gives in I'll have her horn and you can go. If she remains stubborn she'll die anyhow, eventually—and I'll still have her horn."

"Fat chance you're going to let me go."

"I might. You'll never be able to harm me. And after I have her horn, nothing will be able to harm me. Nothing in the world."

I went for him. I'd decided the second I realized where they were taking me that I was going to kill him regardless of the cost. Ariel would be able to get away; I would no longer be holding her back. I took two running steps and leapt for his face. He didn't flinch, didn't so much as bat an eye. Instead, he waved his right hand nonchalantly and I ran face-first into an invisible brick wall. My feet kept going and I pivoted in midair and landed on my back. He waved again and an unseen something sent me sprawling. I tried to pick myself up. My arms gave beneath me.

Behind me came a knock on the door. I was still trying to focus my eyes when it opened and a man walked in. My vision didn't need to be clear to recognize him, though: a dark discoloration over one eye made his face skull-like. He glanced at me on my hands and knees on the side of the room and looked away. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did." He had sat back down in the depths of the black executive chair. "I understand you discovered a loner in the city yesterday."

"Nothing special about that," he replied carefully. "There are loners all over this city." The pale candleglow mannequinned his Germanic features.

A creak in the chair, a suggestion of leaning forward. "Captured loners are supposed to be brought here for questioning. You know that."

"He was a forager, half-starved. He was hunting for food."

"I don't care. There's been an increase in loner activity in the city these last few weeks and I want to find out why." He paused. "We can't find out anything if captured loners have their throats cut before they're interrogated."

The rider said nothing.

The dark shape of the chair leaned back, squeaking. "You're getting a touch too smug to suit me. A little too greedy. You can do what you want with prisoners after I question them, not before."

"I'm not trying to overstep any bounds," the rider protested. "I don't want your power. I'm happy where I am, thanks. With Shai-tan."

"Whom I gave you."

The rider nodded. He looked at me as if I were a piece of bad meat he'd just chewed and spat out. "What about him?"

"I'm taking care of him now. You can stay and watch, if you want."

I still fought waves of dizziness. My throat constricted at the metallic tang in my mouth. I swallowed. I didn't want to stay hunched over in front of them the way I was; I loathed the thought of the satisfaction it gave them. I struggled to my knees. Flashbulbs went off in my head. My jaw was swollen and tender where I'd been punched.

I think I passed out. My next recollection was of seeing several men carrying in a large, round table of thick, heavy wood. I was on my back, looking up, and the room was a carnival ride gone haywire, revolving around an ever-changing axis.

The rider had my samurai sword in hand. He saw me looking at him and grinned, then pulled the blade six inches from the scabbard and spat on it. I got mad enough to stand up, ignoring the headache piercing behind my eyes. I staggered a step toward him, intent on doing my level and wholly inadequate best to kill him. Two things stopped me. The first was Ariel. She stood in front of the door, flanked by armed men. She looked bad. Her hide caught the pale candle flame reluctantly, reflected it as a flat, rusty orange; her mane hung limply and dried blood stained her horn, but in that dim light her eyes were dominant. Her space-black gaze was still prideful and vitality still burned there. Those eyes went soft with hurt when they saw me, and I was conscious of what I must have looked like.

"Oh, Pete." A weight Atlas had never felt was in her voice; that, and the contained rage and pain of a chained Prometheus. The second thing I noticed was the table. It was made of some dark wood—ebony, perhaps—and was directly between Ariel and me. It was round, about seven feet in diameter, and three and a half feet high. A pentagram had been drawn across it in blood. A candle burned at each point. Ropes were secured in the wood at four of the five points. At a word from the necromancer three guards lowered their weapons and took hold of me. I struggled and cursed, but was too weak to do anything more than writhe feebly against them. Not that I could have done much had I got loose. I was dragged to the table and tied to the pentagram. Once I was secured, the guards returned to stand beside Ariel. I felt the candles burning by each hand. I was bound spread-eagled, hands and feet tied at four of the five points of the star within the circle. I lifted my head and saw the rider looking on in satisfaction, face half shadowed.

The office chair creaked as the necromancer stood. He held a black book in one thin hand. Those were surgeon's hands, pianist's hands. He walked around the desk and stopped before me. I looked up at his calm face, wishing I could work up spit.

The book was bound in old leather. He opened it and looked at Ariel, then shifted back to the book and began reciting, tilting the book forward until it was lit by the glow from the pentagram candles. The words he spoke were vaguely Latin-sounding and all too familiar: