Faerie Tale (46 page)

The globe bobbed, as if affirming its nature, and Sean said, “Help me. I want to find my brother, Patrick. The Fool’s got him.”

The globe seemed to spin erratically for a moment, as if struck by fear, but after an instant of odd movement it circled around Sean and began moving down the road. Sean sucked in a deep breath, realized he had tears on his cheeks, and wiped them away. With a show of resolution he didn’t feel, he marched after the slowly moving globe, determined to follow it to quest’s end. The green people were silent as the boy moved past them. They seemed undisturbed by what they had witnessed, but they had lost their gay demeanor at the mention of the Fool’s name, and they stepped out of Sean’s way, letting him follow his guide unhindered.

There seemed no time. Barney had mentioned something about this, but Sean couldn’t recall what he’d said. Sean felt the faint stirrings of hunger and wished he had brought something to eat, maybe a peanut butter sandwich. But he couldn’t be expected to think of everything. He clutched his dagger of silver in his right hand and followed after the golden ball of light. He had tried talking to the light, but it had remained mute. The landscape through which they moved was an eerie delight to the senses, woodlands of dark and alien beauty. Streams of crystal water flowed nearby, and Sean wondered if the water was safe to drink. Barney hadn’t said anything, but Sean thought it best to wait until he absolutely had to have a drink.

The ball moved in an odd rhythm, swaying from side
to side above the road, almost as if dancing or skipping. Sean plodded silently along the center of the off-white stones.

After some long and uncounted time, Sean saw a castle in the distance. He thought it took the longest time to reach it, for it was very large and grew slowly as he marched along. Rounding a curve in the road, Sean saw a man sitting near the roadside. He was perched upon a large rock that sat at an intersection of the white road and a smaller path that led to the drawbridge of the castle.

The boy squinted to get a better view of the castle in the haze, and for all his efforts, he could only tell it was an immense place, with walls that seemed more like glass than stone. Upon the distant towers brave pennants flew in the odd breeze and people moved, though Sean couldn’t tell if they were really people. The light in this place made anything distant look funny. The castle rose up above a beach, upon the shore of a large lake or bay. Sean wondered how he could not see such a large body of water until now. He glanced off to the other side of the castle and saw the shore quickly enshrouded in mists, which faded to silver and gold light. A tremble passed through Sean as he tried to understand what he was seeing. To him it seemed like a TV picture where the screen changed from one image to another, but somehow got stuck in the middle of the dissolve. Putting aside his disquiet, the boy keep moving along the road, bringing him to where the man sat.

Sean slowed to study the man as he passed him. The man’s dark hair hung to his shoulders and his beard was thick and unkempt. He wore a shirt of iron rings sewn to leather, with a simple pair of woolen trousers tucked into boots of soft leather, sheepskin surrounding the top. Sean thought he looked sort of like a Viking, but he had no helm with horns. Sean approached cautiously to the edge of the road, bringing him to within twenty feet of the silent warrior, but the man showed no sign of being aware of the boy’s presence. He seemed in a trance, or so deep in thought he was oblivious to anything else. Along
his scalp ran a deep scar, pink and puckered, with only a short growth of hair around it, looking only recently healed. Sean noted he held an empty scabbard across his knees. The boy slowed his progress even more, so he could watch as four women accompanied by a cortege of servants emerged from the barbican of the castle and crossed the bridge. Each seemed human, if not without an otherworldly quality to their beauty. One was dressed in regal raiments of crimson and gold, while the second was equally splendid and commanding in a gown of deep green. The third wore white and silver, while the fourth was dressed in black. As they approached, Sean halted, unable to take his eyes from the wondrous procession. The woman in black was the only one who seemed to notice Sean, but she merely looked at him a brief moment, a sad and resigned expression in her blue eyes, as she gifted him with a hint of a smile, then turned to face the man upon the rock. She spoke so softly that Sean could not hear her words, and the man seemed to come out of some trance.

The four women waited while the warrior slowly stood. He paused a moment as he caught sight of Sean, then spoke. His words were in a language unknown to the boy, and faint, as if some agency were preventing Sean from clearly hearing what was said, and his manner was hesitant and uncertain. The woman in black spoke, casting a brief glance at the boy. The man nodded and offered his arm to the woman. She took it and the pair turned toward the castle, the other three women following, their servants bringing up the rear.

Sean was fascinated by the display, wondering who these fabulous people could be, but his attention was pulled away by the sight of his golden guide vanishing over the horizon. Then Sean remembered Barney’s warning about not stopping lest he lose his guide. Feeling panic strike, he saw the guide was gone. He sprinted after the ball of light.

He crested a hill and saw he had gained ground on the orb, but still he ran, fearing to lose his only hope of finding his brother. By the time he had overtaken the ball of
golden light, he noticed the trees had closed in on both sides of the road and everything had grown darker. These woods were more oppressive, more somber, than those that stretched back from the castle to the hill with the green people. Sean gripped his dagger tighter. Forcing himself to calmness, the boy followed doggedly on behind the shimmering guide.

Phil glanced through the glass to where Mickey Bergman was examining Patrick one last time before leaving for Baltimore in the morning.

The doctor left Patrick’s bedside and came out of the room. Bergman took Phil by the arm, steering him to where Gloria sat in the waiting area. She had left Phil’s side, unable to watch the shrieking creature that had once been her son struggling to bite and scratch the attendants as they held him down so Mickey Bergman could examine him. “Philip, I was going to call you if you hadn’t come in. There’s something I need tell you.”

“About Patrick?” said Gloria.

“Yes. I’m sorry, but his behavior is becoming more … extreme. He’s also … stronger, as if … I don’t know, a kind of hysterical strength, maybe. It’s getting more difficult to work with him. He … attacked a candy striper today.”

“What?” said Phil in astonishment.

Bergman sat down opposite Phil and Gloria. “The girl meant well, but she was being pretty stupid entering that room—she’s new. She said she saw Patrick through the window and he
seemed
so upset and frightened. It took two orderlies and a nurse to pull him off of her.”

“What did he do?” asked Gloria.

Mickey shook his head. “If he wasn’t only eight years old, I’d say he tried to rape her.”

Gloria’s expression was eloquent, even if she couldn’t
find words. Bergman continued, “He had the girl’s blouse torn half off and was holding her down on the bed.” Mickey’s face showed uncertainty. “He bit her on the left breast, a nasty wound. The girl’s going to have a scar.

“Look, if this continues, I don’t know if that state hospital Wingate’s suggested is the best place for Patrick. I can get him into one of the psych research units at Johns Hopkins. I think I’d like to follow this case a while longer.”

Phil said, “Thanks, Mickey. But why the sudden interest?”

Bergman sat back, arms crossed. “I can’t tell you really. There’s just something about this one that bugs the hell out of me.” He looked at Gloria, finding her more collected than he had seen her so far, so he ventured an opinion. “I don’t know what’s with Patrick, but it’s unique. And … if we can find out what it is … maybe we can.…”

“Help him?” said Gloria with little hope evidenced in her tone or manner.

Mickey shook his head. “I can’t say that. I just think we might discover something important. I really can’t tell you why. Call it a hunch.”

Phil said, “We’ll talk it over. How long before we can see Patrick?”

“A while, Fm afraid. You’ll have to wait a bit. It’s taking more drugs to calm him, and longer for them to take effect. I’m thinking of changing what we give him so he doesn’t develop drug problems along with everything else. And … it’ll be a while before he’s cleaned up.” Looking hard at them, he said, “You realize he’ll be under restraints when you see him?”

Both nodded, and Mickey rose. “Very well. I’ll call you tomorrow when I get to Baltimore.” Phil rose and stuck out his hand. They shook and Bergman said, “I’m glad I came. Not just for that outrageous bribe offer, either. This one’s unique. I just wish I could have done more.”

Phil watched him leave and sat down next to his wife. Gloria seemed numb, off in her own world, while they
waited for the nurse to tell them they could visit Patrick. Phil wished the sharp churning feeling in his stomach would go away. He’d been eating antacids almost hourly since all this had begun. And things seemed to be getting worse. Mark’s vanishing act had a strangely unsettling effect on everyone. And Sean seemed so moody and disturbed. Running a hand over a tired face, Phil said to himself, “Don’t make too much of this, old son.”

Gloria turned slightly. “Huh?”

He shook his head. “Just talking to myself.” Gloria returned to her own lonely world.

Phil chided himself: Of course everyone was on edge and there was some general fallout from that anxiety. Mark was probably off poking around and somehow had managed to miscommunicate with Gary. And Sean … well, he’d had a brother—more than a brother—a twin taken from him. Of course he’d be moody and disturbed. Phil hoped the party tonight would make things a little easier for Sean.

Phil felt exhaustion pull at him. Nervous fatigue, with its strangely electric numbing quality, caused him to drift into a twitchy half doze, one in which he was aware of his surroundings but also not quite awake.

He thought of Patrick and could see his son just a dozen feet away, as if the walls between the waiting room and his bed had vanished. Then something odd occurred and somehow he also could see Patrick lying on … clover? The boy seemed to doze in some other place, asleep upon a bed of flowers and grasses. And near him rested something … black. Something … evil. Phil tried to warn Patrick, to shout to him to get up and run to Daddy, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He felt himself strain, but his arms and legs wouldn’t budge and his voice stayed mute. In his mind he screamed Patrick’s name. The boy sat up. Phil’s heart leaped as he saw his son look around, blinking in confusion. Then the boy saw his father. With a smile he stood and took a slow step toward his father. But the evil black thing rose up behind. Phil screamed to the boy to run and tried to go to him, but his body wouldn’t answer his demands. Patrick
sensed the presence of the evil thing behind and turned to look over his shoulder. The boy’s eyes widened in terror at the vague black shape and he turned to face his father. He took an agonizingly slow step toward his father as the black horror reached out and encompassed the boy with long, sooty black arms. Opening his mouth, Patrick cried out. “Phil!”

Phil jerked awake, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. It took him a few seconds to gain his bearings and discover he had fallen asleep in the chair. Mark was kneeling before his chair. He said, “Are you all right?”

“Ya,” said Phil huskily. “Just dozed for a second. A nightmare.” He wiped his face and took a deep breath, collecting himself.

Then Mark’s presence hit Phil and Gloria and both started to speak. “Don’t ask anything,” Mark interrupted. His face showed he had been without sleep for some time. The area above his normally trimmed beard showed several day’s growth and his eyes were red-rimmed, set in deep, dark sockets, and his skin looked chalky. He was wet, as if he had been outside in the rain for a while.

“You okay?” asked Gloria.

“Never mind me,” said Mark. “Tell me exactly what’s happened since I left. I went to your place and Gabbie said you were here with Patrick.”

Phil began and Gloria joined in, and after a few minutes Mark had a fairly accurate narrative of all that had occurred since his departure. He still knelt before Phil and Gloria, his hand held before his mouth as he thought. Then he said, “Christ, you were taken for a ride.”

“What?” asked Phil.

Mark’s expression showed something else wasn’t right and Phil said, “What’s wrong?”

“Aggie’s been in an accident. She’s downstairs. Dr. Murphy said he thought you’d be up here with Dr. Bergman, Phil, so I came up to tell you.”

Phil said, “What happened?”

Mark said, “After I left your place, I passed the accident.
I recognized Aggie’s car.” He spoke without emotion. “She spun out on the road between your place and Lonny Boggs’s.”

“Is she going to be all right?” asked Gloria, rising.

Phil stood and made to move toward the elevator, but Mark held him back. “She didn’t make it.”

“How did you know?” asked Phil.

“I saw the cops pull her from the wreckage and put a tarp over her and her passenger. And she’s downstairs in pathology, not E.R.”

“Goddamnitall,” whispered Gloria. Her eyes began to tear and she softly repeated, “Goddamnitall.” Phil stood silently, too numb to take in Aggie’s death. She had been like a member of his family and his closest professional mentor. Mechanically he asked, “How did it happen?”

Mark spoke. “I can only guess. But details aren’t important now.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Time is.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gloria.

Mark pushed by Phil and stood right in front of Gloria. “On the night Patrick was taken ill, do you remember anything unusual, besides Sean’s screaming?”

Gloria shook her head, then remembered faintly a dim image of a shadow in the corner. “Well, there was something.”