Night's Pawn (15 page)

"And?"

"And," she said, "there was nothing there."

"No one? No spirits?"

She shook her head.

"No signs of magical tracking?"

She held her hand up. "I didn't say that. I didn't stay long enough to look for that, just long enough to look around."

"So you'll check for the tracking now?"

"Yup, but this time we'll play it a little safer." She stood up and stopped the crawl of her shirt down her left shoulder. "Help me move this coffee table over against the wall."

He stood up, too, then reached down and picked the table up cleanly as she began to lean toward it. "Which wall?"

She stopped reaching for the table, looked half up at him and pointed. "That wall, Samson. Don't worry about dropping it. It's real wood."

"I won't drop it." Chase carried the table over to the wall and gently set it down. The two glasses of half-drunk water barely showed a ripple. He turned back toward her and watched as she rolled up the large Aztec-pattern throw rug that dominated the room. Beneath, painted in near-shining metallic colors, was a double-ringed circle drawn around a triangle. Other geometric shapes, symbols, and designs were drawn between the two rings. Freid reached down and touched the circle, and instantly it seemed that some invisible light played across the designs. Chase couldn't see the light, but the metallic paint reflected it nonetheless.

"Now," she said, "since this is active I don't want you crossing it or stepping into it. It's an inscribed circle. If you're being tracked magically, the circle's properties would interfere with the tracking. They might not notice if they weren't paying attention, but I don't want to take that chance."

She stepped into the circle and dropped down cross-legged at its center, within the triangle. "While I'm in here, I'm protected against things in astral space. They'll have a hard time attacking across the circle's boundary.

"If there is a spirit following you, and I missed it when I checked astral space a minute ago, it might decide to come after me physically instead of challenging me astrally, where in some ways I'm slightly more powerful."

Chase was surprised. "Physically? I thought you said things in normal space were in no danger from things that exist only in astral space?"

"Right. A spirit, like an elemental or a watcher, is a dual being. It can exist in either place at one time. Its choice. It could be waiting and watching in astral space for me to astrally project so that it can drop into the physical world and go after my defenseless body."

"Now, wait just a minute."

She grinned. "Yup, as they say on the trideo, that's where you come in."

"I can't deal with a spirit. I mean, how in the hell could I hurt it?"

She shrugged. "Punch it, kick it, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that you're trying to harm it. Not only might you harm it, but if your will is strong enough, you'll slow it down long enough for me to take some action. See, because it's a dual being it still has a presence astrally even when manifest in the physical world. It'll still be vulnerable to me, assuming I get the chance to do something."

Chase moved up to within a step of the circle and pulled out his heavy pistol. The moment he grabbed it, the weapon sensed the presence of his hand and activated the cyberlink circuits in the grip. Those sensors matched up with another set hidden beneath Chase's palm and wired into his nervous system. He felt the warm flow from his hand that told him the circuits were engaged. A small targeting dot appeared in his field of vision as the cyberware in his head translated the positioning data the weapon fed through his hand and up his arm. The dot showed him, within barely a millimeter of error, exactly where the pistol was pointed. Other readouts appeared in his eye showing the status of the weapon's safety, which was on, and its current ammo load, which was full, sixteen rounds. With the weapon now linked and in sync with his already wired and hyped-up nervous system, Chase was ready. He realized that this was the first time since the whole thing had started that he'd actually drawn a weapon.

"Will this do?" He let her clearly see the heavy Colt Manhunter pistol, but was careful to keep it pointed away. He didn't like the sight of the targeting spot near her.

"Um," she said, "it'll work, some. See, when you attack the spirit you're using your will, your desire, to attack and damage it. It's you against the spirit. The gun's a tool, a symbol, that acts as your surrogate against the spirit. Yes, you aim, but the bullets themselves have no will of their own. The effect is lessened. If it's you attacking—your own hands, your own blows—there's nothing interfering. You strike with your own will."

He looked down at her for a moment, weapon still pointed clear. "You know," he said finally, "I haven't the faintest idea what you just said."

She laughed. "That's okay. If something shows up, you can hit it with the gun, just don't shoot it."

"Now, wait just another minute."

Again she held up her hand. "Quiet, please, I'm going to go astral." As she finished speaking, the muscles of her face and then the rest of her body went slack. Her body seemed to remain upright only by its own instinctive balance. Her lips parted slightly and she exhaled a long, slow breath.

As Chase watched and waited, he carefully scanned the room, his cybernetic low-light vision turned up to bring the area to near-daylight levels. He watched for movement, listened for noises, anything that might betray the presence of a spirit. He saw only the room and heard only Freid's breathing.

Then her breathing changed, losing its rhythm with a sharp gasp. Instinctively, he brought his pistol up and around toward her. The dot centered on her forehead for just a moment until he saw her eyes blink and her jaw begin to work slightly. He kept the weapon moving and brought it up to a rest, pointed at the ceiling.

Freid stood up and brushed herself off. She stepped out of the circle, stopping within arm's length. She blinked a couple of times, then smiled.

"Well?" he said.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he said.

"Nothing. As far as I can tell nobody is tracking you in any which way."

Chase cybernetically commanded the gun to power itself down to conserve the battery, then holstered it. "I'm surprised," he said.

"Oh?"

He nodded. "We were nearly ambushed trying to get out of Manhattan, and I'm pretty fragging sure the only way they could have found us was through magic. I assumed they'd kept up with us."

"They could have lost the trail."

"Maybe," he said, running one hand across his chin. He was surprised at the layer of stubble he found there. With all the anxiety over Cara this morning he'd forgotten to shave. Cara. "Damn. We'd better check on Cara."

Freid's eyes narrowed slightly. "The girl you were with?"

"Yes."

She seemed to take a moment to absorb that, then shook her head with a light smile.

"What?" he asked her.

She looked back at him, her head dipped slightly and still holding the smile. "Oh, I've just been trying to figure out if you've really got a problem or if this is just a very complex come-on."

Chase started. "No… I mean…I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression."

She smiled a little wider and Chase saw amusement begin to dance in her eyes. She stepped closer to him and reached out, draping her arms across his shoulders, her hands loosely clasped behind his neck. "Don't worry about it."

He reached up and gently took her arms just above her elbows. "Look—"

"Where's your friend?" She clasped her hands tighter, and Chase felt them begin to press against the back of his neck.

"With Gavin and some of the other kids. They went to that shack, I don't know—"

She interrupted him again. "Put your hands under my shoulders."

Chase took a deep breath. "I'm not sure—"

"Like this." Freid took his hands and placed them farther up, under her arms. He wasn't surprised by the tautness of the muscle he found there, nor the softness.

"Don't let go," she said, lowering her voice. "I'm going to check out your friend. Hold me up."

Chase started to say something to stop her, but the muscles in her face relaxed too quickly and her head leaned forward, eyes unfocused. "Damn," he said, supporting her sudden weight.

He pulled her limp body against his side and supported it easily with one arm. With his free right hand he pulled out his heavy pistol and let all the circuits engage. He wasn't sure if it would help, but he wanted it out.

Freid's head rested against his shoulder and her breath was slow and regular against his neck. He watched the room, and her, and wondered what to do next. He thought about laying her down on the couch, but knew from the few mages he'd worked with that they didn't like to be disturbed once they'd begun astrally projecting, so he didn't.

Every few minutes he thought he felt her body stiffen slightly, but nothing further happened. He could read the time on the display of her music system. Much more time was passing than when she'd checked him.

He waited and watched. Her body seemed to shift closer to him.

A car horn blared somewhere in the base, and he heard the distant crash of what could have been metal barrels. He decided to put her down, and she stirred.

Her breathing changed, and she opened her eyes, first allowing him to continue to support her, but then standing on her own. She stayed close and let him half hold her. "What is it?" she said quietly.

He took a half step toward the center of the room, and she came with him. "Noises. A crash of some kind."

She smiled. "Billy Finn was trying to steer his truck past the junk piles as I was coming back. He didn't seem too sober."

"Still…"

"The base is safe, Church. You shouldn't worry."

"It's my job to worry," he said. "What about Cara?"

"She's clean; no sign at all of anybody tracking her."

"Really?"

She punched him lightly. "No, I'm lying."

"I take it she was all right."

"Well…" Freid looked down and kicked at the edge of the rolled-up carpet. "She wasn't in any danger, but she was certainly venting some serious frustration."

Chase tensed slightly. "Oh."

She placed her hand on his chest. "Hey, relax. I said she was fine." She looked up at him. "Are you two just friends, or…"

"She came to me because she needed help. I worked as a guard for her family when she was little."

"Ah," said Freid. "Well, she's gone off with one of the techs, a real ganderer named Willie. I found them by listening in on some conversations. She was apparently quite aggressive. Gavin's not happy."

He looked down at her. She was still standing very close. "Oh."

"Yeah, she was working him over pretty good." She grinned. "Not that he was complaining, mind you."

"I see."

"You know, it's tough for a mage to just wander in on something like that. All the emotion just resonates through astral space. It's tough to ignore."

"Really." He felt her hand, still on his chest, press harder against him and begin to slide downward.

She looked down and watched her moving hand. "It gets to you."

He let her words hang for a moment, then took the plunge. "Anything I can do to help you get over it?"

She giggled. "Well, for starters, you can put that gun away."

12

Blanchard winced at the unholy sound coming from the power plant of the air-cushion vehicle parked a dozen meters away. He shook his head and turned back to Chase. "I don't know what their problem is."

"She sounds way out of tune," said Chase.

"Yeah, and even a tech-wiz like you can tell that. Willie's been working on it for an hour. Something must really be out of whack."

Chase leaned back against the warm hull of the
Rapier's Touch
. "Which is he?" He put up one hand to block the early morning sun and its reflection inside his aviator glasses.

"Willie? The one with the blue bandanna on his arm." Blanchard pointed at the cluster of technicians near the raised engine hood. The one he'd pointed out was shaking his head and recalibrating a pocket-comp. "Why?"

Chase shrugged. "His name came up last night."

"Oh, yeah, I heard something about that."

"Oh?"

"I hope there won't be any problems."

"About?"

Blanchard rolled his eyes. "Come on, chummer, don't do me like this. Willie and the girl."

"Just checking that we're talking about the same thing," Chase said, glad he hadn't jumped to a different conclusion. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just business, and we're friends."

Blanchard actually seemed relieved. Chase imagined the T-bird's gunner hadn't been looking forward to a socially stressful run. "Wiz," he said.

Metal clanged against plasteel somewhere behind them, and Chase turned to see Gordani garbed in a flight suit similar to Blanchard's coming around the rear of the T-bird. Behind him, the two technicians he'd seen inspecting the vehicle were arguing. The two, one insanely tall, and the other, of about the same weight but half the height, had been working on the LAV all night. Gordani seemed pleased.