Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Shadowgate 04 (63 page)

 
          
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can win him back for the Light.
It was a thought that came to Colin more
and more as the days lengthened. He was certain of his victory, given time.

 
          
Spring
break ran from the 12th to the 18th that April. On the 19th, Grey wasn't in
class.

 
          
Cassilda
was. Colin stopped her as she was leaving.

 
          
"Have
you seen Grey today?" he asked without preamble.

 
          
Cassie
shrugged and did not meet his gaze. The white streak dyed into the front of her
short dark hair gave her a more-than-passing resemblance to a Pekinese.

 
          
"I
guess he had some things to do?" she muttered unconvincingly. She glanced
up at Colin with a stubborn blankness on her face. "Maybe you should ask
him."

 
          
Before
Colin could say anything further, Cassie slithered away and hurried off down
the hall.

 
          
Now
what was that all about?
Colin wondered to himself. He debated the wisdom
of searching for his absent student
—
would it strain things
between them further? Would Grey consider it meddling?
—
but set those thoughts
aside. Even though they were only cautiously on terms lately, Grey would not
miss one of Colin's lectures except for an emergency; not a scant six weeks before
graduation.

 
          
Several
hours later he found Grey in an off-campus hangout, drinking coffee in a back
booth.

 
          
"Mind
if I join you?" Colin said.

 
          
Grey
looked up at him hazily. His face was haggard with the effect of too little
sleep and intense emotion.

 
          
"Colin,"
he said, sounding surprised, as if they had not seen each other only last week.
"Yeah. Sure."

 
          
Colin
sat down and ordered coffee for himself.

 
          
"You
look like hell. When did you eat last?" he demanded.
Why do the old
always say the same useless things to the young, despite our best intentions?

 
          
"She
didn't come back," Grey said bleakly.

 
          
There
had only been one "she" in Grey's life for many months: Winter
Musgrave. They'd seemed like the perfect couple; the uncrowned king and queen
of Taghkanic; the prankster troubadour and his high-spirited noble lady. The
two of them were closer than many old married couples Colin knew, and it had
been a surprise for Colin to learn, in casual conversation with Professor
Rhys, that Winter had gone home for spring break rather than spend it in
Glastonbury
with Grey.

 
          
"And?"
Colin prompted gently.

 
          
"She
didn't come back!" Grey repeated impatiently. He picked up his coffee and
stared into it as if he'd never seen it before.

           
"There has to be more to it
than that," Colin said. He refrained from the obvious question
—
whether she was hurt;
whether she was sick. Reasonably or not, Grey had obviously already ruled out
these possibilities.

 
          
And
Colin realized that
—
unconsciously
—
he had as well. Cassie's
behavior earlier
—
as if she were in possession of a guilty secret
—
was part of the reason. That,
and the way Grey was acting. Whether Colin liked it or not, Winter and Cassie
and Grey had all been working magick together, and the ties that bound them
were stronger than any ordinary ones of love or society.

 
          
"We
were going to get married," Grey said quietly. He set his coffee aside and
ran his hands through his hair, pulling it out of its customary ponytail. The
freed strands hung forward around his face, veiling his expression. "I
asked her to marry me. I thought she'd come back."

 
          
The
phone rang, pulling Colin out of fitful sleep. He reached out in the darkness,
still half adrift in time.

 
          
"Hello?"

 
          
"Colin?"

 
          
The
dream refused to let him go; with the odd insistence of dreams Colin was
certain that it was Thorne Blackburn at the other end of the line, calling from
jail once more. Then his mind cleared, the last veils of sleep lifting.

 
          
"Grey?"
Hunter Greyson hadn't been in class all week, and Colin had been more worried
than he cared to admit. "Where are you?"

 
          
"I'm
in jail." Grey's voice was flat, tightly controlled.

 
          
The
eerie conflation of dream and reality banished the last sleep-fed confusion
from Colin's mind.

 
          
"In
jail? What happened?"

 
          
"I
don't know. It's some place out on the
North
Shore
.
Long Island
. They're going to set bail
in the morning, but I don't have any money." A long pause. "I didn't
know who else to call."

 
          
Colin
could imagine the effort that confession had cost him
—
Grey was as proud as
Lucifer, and Colin feared it would lead him to similar disaster.

 
          
"Don't
worry," Colin said. "I'll be there. Let me talk to the
sergeant." He glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost
two
a.m.
,
and somehow this night seemed to elide into all the other late-night emergency
calls of Colin's life, calls made by men and women now dead, while only he
survived.

 
          
He
got the particulars from the desk sergeant; Grey had been picked up for
trespass and disorderly conduct on the grounds of a local residence, and the
owner was pressing charges.

 
          
The
owner's name was Kenneth Musgrave.

 
          
When
Colin heard that, his heart sank. What had happened to Winter?

 
          
He
found no answer to the question in Ramapahoag.

 
          
Grey
arrived at the arraignment, where, after a short discussion with the judge, he
pleaded guilty to the charge of wilful trespass
—
a misdemeanor. The fine was
set, and Grey went off to the court clerk. Colin joined him there.

           
"Thanks for coming," Grey
said. His voice was rough with lack of sleep, and his face had the haggard look
of the emotionally battered.

 
          
"It's
not a problem," Colin said gently. The dilemma seemed something more
substantial than a fight with a girlfriend
—
what in God's name had Grey
done that Winter's family should have had him charged with trespassing?

 
          
But
he didn't ask; he simply paid Grey's fine and got them out of there.

 
          
They
had to stop and pick up Grey's bike, which had been impounded when he was
arrested. There was another fine to pay there. Grey was uncharacteristically
docile
—
still
in shock, Colin supposed. There were a number of more tactful ways of breaking off
an engagement than getting your fiance arrested. "You're riding back with
me," Colin said firmly, as Grey took the bike by the bars. "We can
put that in the back of the car, but you're not safe on the road." With
the backseat folded down in Colin's now venerable station wagon there was just
enough room to fit Grey's bike lying on its side.

 
          
"I
suppose I owe you an explanation," Grey said, as soon as the car was
moving. "But I guess you're going to have to chalk this one up to the ol'
instant karma. Sort of in the 'there are things man was not meant to meddle
with' line."

 
          
"Is
that what you think happened here?" Colin asked in his most neutral tones.
Most people were willing to talk if given a little nondirective encouragement,
and Colin doubted that Hunter Greyson was any different.

 
          
"She
wouldn't see me," Grey said numbly, as if he couldn't believe it.
"She wouldn't come out. Her old man called the police." His mouth
twisted in a bitter sneer. "She always said they wouldn't like me. She was
right."

 
          
That
was all the information Grey would provide
—
because, Colin realized
after they'd stopped in
Tarrytown
for a late breakfast, there simply wasn't any more
information for him
to
provide. Winter Musgrave had gone home for spring
break and never come back to Taghkanic. When Grey had gone to see her, her
father'd had him arrested.

 
          
"We
loved each other," Grey said, answering unspoken questions. "She
wouldn't do this."

 
          
But
Colin noticed that he spoke of Winter in the past tense, as if a part of him
already knew that what they'd shared was over.

 
          
Could
what you were doing at
Nuclear
Lake
have frightened her that
much?
Colin
wondered. But it would be too cruel to ask the question now, and it was one
that Grey would ask himself soon enough
—
soon, and for the rest of
his life. Whether, in the end, Winter came back or not.

 
          
It
was midafternoon by the time they reached the house in
Glastonbury
that Grey shared with
several other Taghkanic students. "I don't think you should be
alone," Colin said.

 
          
"What
do you think I'm going to do, slit my wrists?" Grey snapped, bridling.
"I just want to get some sleep."

           
He shoved open the passenger side
door and stood at the back, waiting for Colin to open the hatch. When the two
of them had wrestled the cycle out of the back, Grey hauled it upright and
prepared to wheel it off the street.

 
          
"It's
going to take me a couple of days to get the money together to pay you
back," Grey said with sullen determination.

 
          
"Don't
worry about it," Colin said.
I'm worried about you, Grey.

 
          
Grey
shrugged, as inarticulate as Colin had ever seen him. Flamboyant, theatrical,
self-assured ... at the moment Hunter Greyson was none of those things.

 
          
"Thanks
—
for everything," Grey
said awkwardly, and turned away, walking the motorcycle toward the back of the
house.

 
          
It
wasn't over. Colin wasn't surprised when Claire came to his door several hours
later
—
in
fact, though it was well after
midnight
, he was still fully
dressed.

 
          
"Nuclear
Lake
?" Colin asked.

 
          
Claire
nodded.

 
          
"I
won't ask how you knew
—
as for how I did, it certainly didn't require psychic
powers. Cassie was down at Inquire Within with Janelle most of the afternoon,
both of them weeping their eyes out," Claire said.

 
          
Colin
grimaced, his gaze intent upon the road. The turnoff to
Nuclear
Lake
was hard to find at the
best of times, let alone in the darkest part of an overcast night.