Dreamseeker's Road (11 page)

A brow lifted once again. “Dream's tall and thin.”

“—Like ol' Alec here?” David cuffed his roommate—and got punched back for his pains.

“Perhaps,” Liz answered coyly. “I—” She paused, head tilted. Listening. David caught it too. So, by his sudden tensing, did Alec.

A faint scratching at the door.

“Aikin,” David sighed. “Didn't hear him drive up.”

“Probably parked up by the road,” Alec opined. “He does that when he wants to be 'specially sneaky.” More scratching.

“It's open!” David hollered.

No dark-haired forestry major stealthed in. The scratching intensified.

“Cat?” Alec suggested, rising.

“Could be,” David acknowledged. “There's been one hangin' around.”

Alec sniffed derisively and padded down the hall. The door squeaked when he opened it. “Oh
hell
!”

“
What…?”

“Uh…Dave,” Alec urged through clenched teeth, “you better get your butt up here.”

David grimaced sourly, but rose. “What—?” He peered around the door. “Holy shit!”

“What is it,” Liz called from the living room.

“Your guess,” David replied, as he stared at the fox-sized creature calmly grooming itself on the porch. “But unless I've gone brain-dead, I'd say it's an…enfield.”

“What?”
Liz joined them before he could explain. It was an enfield, too: no other beast had the body of a fox and the talons of an eagle in lieu of front paws. It was also a creature from Faerie.

David felt a delicate chill of mixed alarm and wonder thrill up his spine as he eased closer. His hand rattled the screen. The enfield peered up at him, dark eyes bright and wary, but not alarmed. Intelligence showed there, too, of a kind—like the Faery deer had displayed up on the mountain. Enfields were fairly bright, David knew: smarter than dogs, less than monkeys, and more sweet-tempered than either foxes or raptors—unless you pissed one off, in which case you'd better hope things were cool with your next of kin, 'cause eagle talons driven by canine muscle were mondo worse than plain old fox jambs.

The enfield sat back on its haunches, looking very heraldic, and licked a foreleg at the juncture of fur and feathers. It sniffed the air, then whistled.

“Polite little sucker,” Alec whispered.

“And absolutely fearless,” from Liz.

David pushed the screen open enough to squeeze through. The enfield regarded him expectantly as he eased into a crouch. “Hey…boy?” he crooned, “Oops, no! Sorry! Hey little lady, what 'cha doin' here? Long way from home, aren't 'cha?”

He was no more than a yard from it now, and caught its odor: cinnamon more than musk. It whistle-trilled: a soothing sound like a cat purring in a drafty house. Slowly, he extended his knuckles toward its black-pointed muzzle.

“You came to the right place, kid,” he murmured. “Anybody else 'round here would've run, screamed, or shot you.”

The enfield rose, stretched like a cat, and stepped daintily forward. It nosed his knuckles curiously, then licked them—and sauntered past him toward the door a dazed-faced Alec still held open.

Alec didn't move, though whether from wonder, fear, or conditioned politeness that said one did not slam a door in a visitor's face—even a four-legged drop-by from the dreaded Faerie—was unclear. And with the way unimpeded, the creature slipped past him into the house. By the time David recovered enough to follow, it had curled up on the sofa. He knelt on the floor beside it, careful lest it be disturbed. Liz joined him.

Alec claimed an armchair opposite. The enfield promptly raised its head, leapt off the couch, and pranced across the carpet to drape itself across his feet, chin propped contentedly upon one sneakered toe. “Likes you,” David smirked. He resisted the urge to pet it.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Great!” he grunted. “Just peachy.”

“Pretty little critter,” Liz noted.

“Yeah,” Alec sighed. “But…what the hell's it
doing
here?”

“Adoring your feet, apparently. Must like the smell of Doctor Scholl's.”

“Seriously.”

David exhaled wearily “Yeah, well, that's kinda the question, isn't it? I mean, it's neat as hell to have a critter like this park in your living room. On the other hand, the implications are scary as shit.”

“No
joke
?”
Alec snorted. “Golly!”

“Okay,” David began pointedly, “let's look at this logically. First of all, this thing's from Faerie: we all know that. Second, critters from there don't come here of their own free will; but since this one
is
here, we can only assume it got here by accident.”

“Not necessarily,” Liz countered. “Somebody could've brought it deliberately, or it could've come
with
someone but not by their choice.”

“Yeah,” David admitted. “You're right. I just don't like to think about things like that.”

“The borders are sealed,” Alec reminded them.

“Closed,” David corrected. “
Sealed
means you
can't
pass through 'em; Lugh's gotta physically link himself to the land to do that, and it hurts like hell.
Closed
means he'll kick ass if he finds you there. He's supposed to have closed them after the war between him and Erenn. The Powersmiths told him to or they'd kick
his
ass.”

“So Alec's little buddy came solo?”

A shrug. “Anyone here by Lugh's leave is bound to have sense enough not to bring something so obviously alien. Anyone
else
would have more on his mind than ornamental critters.”

“Therefore…”

“Therefore, it
probably
came of its own will. And if that's the case, it could only have come by the Tracks—or straight through the World Walls. Normally, I'd go with the former, in spite of the fact that critters can't usually activate 'em. Only, they can, sometimes, when they're charged up with adrenaline—like Ailill was that time he was changed into a deer—”

“And you guys saw a Faery deer just last Saturday!” Liz exclaimed.

“—That almost had to have come through the World Walls,” David finished. “Right. There's no Track near there, and the way it just sorta
was
and was gone again makes that the obvious choice.”

“Not good,” Alec muttered. “Not good at all.”

“Not if it means something's up with the World Walls,” David agreed. “Makin' 'em grow thin in places, and all. Only, I can't think of any reason that'd be happening that didn't already exist. I mean, iron or steel in this World can burn through in time, if they're in big enough hunks. But it takes forever in most places—longer than it takes the metal to turn to rust and blow away—unless there's already a weak place in the World Walls. Or unless the iron lies
very
near a Track for a long time—like happens up by my folks' place.

“Therefore, something
else is
messing up the World Walls.”

“Or something entirely different's goin' on we haven't thought of.”

“So, what do we do?” Alec wondered. And finally gave in to the obvious temptation to scratch the enfield between the ears. Its eyes closed blissfully. It chirped.

“About what?”

“The critter, first off. I mean, we can't exactly walk up to the World Walls and start laying plaster across the holes.”

“Interesting idea, though,” David chuckled. “Make a good painting for Myra. But seriously…I don't see any choice but to hang on to the little sucker. She seems well behaved, and we know what she is. But if we turn her out, God knows what'll happen. I mean, the
last
thing the folks in Faerie need is humans gettin' concrete proof the place exists—which we have.”

Alec froze in mid-caress. “We
keep
it?”

Another shrug. “I'm open to suggestions. But for the time being…yeah. Maybe we can contact somebody in Faerie and ask them what to do.”

Alec scowled. “And how do you propose to do this? As if I didn't know!”

“Sorry!”
David grumbled. “Like I said, I'm open to suggestions.”

Alec puffed his cheeks. “Well,” he began, “presumably Ms. Field here's still in the substance of Faerie—we could find out with some iron, I guess justa
touch,
Liz! And if she is, then Faerie'll start drawing on her sooner or later—it always does. And when that happens…she oughta find her way back by instinct.”

David scratched his chin. “So you're sayin' we wait until she starts gettin' antsy, then—”

“Hightail it to the nearest Track and hope she gets on.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“Who knows?”

“I— Oh, crap!”

Alec looked startled. “What?”

David grimaced irritably. “I think that really
is
Aikin. Scratching at the door, I mean.”

“Christ,” Liz cried. “We've gotta hide the evidence!”

“Where?” Alec whispered, gazing frantically around the room.

David leapt to his feet. “Anywhere—but do it fast. You know Aik: we don't answer, he'll try the back.” He eyed the door to the rear stoop ominously, then the archway into the kitchen—which was a dead end. The hall was obviously out—which left the bedroom, since the study had no door.
If
Aikin didn't simply barge in.

More scratching.

“Bedroom!” David hissed. “Now! I'll stall.”

—At which point the front door swung open and a familiar figure eased in. Alec bolted for the back, which was still out of Aikin's sight line, but the enfield dug in with both talons and would not let go—not so much from maliciousness, it seemed, as a simple desire to stay with him. “Ouch! Fuck! Get the hell off me…
beast
!”
he yipped, fairly dancing a jig as the enfield hung on for dear life.

Aikin was there in an instant. “I'm not on you—yet,” he drawled. And then saw what clutched Alec's leg—and what it did for forepaws. “Ohshitwow!” he blurted in a rush. “What's
that
?”

“Enfield,” David choked resignedly.

Aikin shook his head. “Too lively for a gun.”

“The gun was named for the critter!”

Aikin was on his knees by then, happily engaged in trying to disengage the enfield from Alec's jeans, which were already in tatters below one knee. Fortunately, he had a true empathy with wildlife, and though he had no qualms about killing animals for sport (and using as much of what he bagged as possible), he also genuinely liked them. Thus, he was competently gentle as he clutched the enfield with his right hand and carefully freed first one talon, then the other with the left, pausing as he did to examine them critically.

“Bit of endangered species research?” he asked a tad too nonchalantly. David wondered if he was going to accuse them of holding out on him—which, from pure force of habit, they almost had.

“Only one of its kind—in this World—I hope,” David told him. “I think they're pretty common in Faerie. And before you get the wrong idea: we've
not
been hidin' it. That little lady showed up not five minutes ago and was makin' herself perfectly at home until you arrived, at which point she latched onto Alec like a leech.”

Aikin had not released the enfield, but neither did it seem inclined to resist his inspection. It licked his knuckles. He let it. “They always this friendly?”

David shrugged helplessly. “I've only met a couple.” Aikin was examining the claw/upper arm juncture.

“Whoa! How many joints we
got
in this leg anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Foxes—which is what this gal mostly looks like—walk on their toes. Half of what we call leg is actually foot; their heels are inches above the ground. This one's…not like that. Oh, and by the way, can I borrow your Warner Brothers video again? I wanta check some stuff on my costume.”

Caught off guard by the non sequitur, David blinked. “The one of which you refused to speak last week?” he managed finally. “Or is this week's secret different?”

“Yes and no.” Aikin had not stopped examining the enfield.

David could think of nothing useful to say. It had been an…eventful ten minutes.

Aikin rose with deliberate care. “Hold on to that a sec,” he commanded, pointing to the beast. “No! Stay!” when it made to follow him. “I wanta get some pictures.”

“You
what
?”
David screeched.

Aikin regarded him calmly. “I want to take its picture, preferably several. I'd
really
like to take her back to Whitehall with me, in fact; but that's probably out of the question—without Alec's leg goin' along, at any rate, which I doubt he's too keen on. But since I may never get another chance to observe a mythical beast this close…well, basically, you guys owe me.”

David eyed him narrowly. “Only if you let Liz do the developing.”

“I'll consider it,” Aikin replied noncommittally—and stalked toward the door. He paused half-in, half-out. “Got a yardstick?”

Before anyone could reply, a rusty blur leapt from the floor where it had been lolling and streaked down the hall. And before even Aikin's reflexes could close the screen, the enfield had slipped between his legs and zipped outside. He spun around instantly, but already it had vanished. “Shit,” he spat bitterly. “Damn.”

David pushed past him onto the porch and frantically scanned the bushy lawn and the avenue of pines that paralleled the road. The enfield was nowhere to be seen. His friends joined him as he jogged to the highway and looked up and down, then made a quick tour of the perimeter of the small wooded lot.

Nothing.

Enfields were forest creatures, so his Faery friend Fionchadd had told him. And the unimproved acreage adjoining
Casa McLean Sullivan
to the east was thoroughly wooded. A cow pasture lay beyond the fence at the edge of the backyard, and behind it were yet more trees.