Falling Light Part 11

The boat had been moored alongside a weathered pier, the nose pointed toward land, opposite a smaller, battered motorboat. As she gained the surface of the deck, she realized the pier was located in the relative shelter of a small, shallow bay.

Her socks and dingy jeans, the bullet-torn flannel s.h.i.+rt and her shoes were arranged on the deck to dry in the open air. Michael's clothes had been spread out beside hers.

She heard quiet voices. As she turned the corner of the cabin, a steady breeze ruffled the edges of her makes.h.i.+ft poncho and brought with it the acrid scent of wood smoke. She s.h.i.+vered and pulled the wool closer around her torso.

At the land end of the pier there was a s.p.a.ce of beach more or less level and cleared of rock. A path with rough staggered steps led from the beach up the incline into the woods. Michael and a tiny old woman were on the beach, sitting on two large, sawed-off logs in front of a small campfire.

Her gaze lingered on Michael. He wore rumpled black cotton pants with a drawstring waist and a flannel-lined anorak. His chest and feet were bare. Looking weary but relatively peaceful, he leaned forward to feed sticks to the bright, flickering flame. He was relaxed. Seeing that, she relaxed too.

Her attention left him and centered on the old woman, who leaned her elbows on knees almost as thin as the sticks that Michael fed to the fire. The ground around the woman was littered with bags, two thermos flasks and food containers. Her short white hair stood around her head in wild, fluffy wisps. She wore canvas mules without socks, baggy sweatpants, an overlarge knit sweater and a denim jacket that was at least a couple of decades old.

It was such a small frail body to house such a strong will. Mary swallowed in an effort to ease her dry throat and hesitated. For the first time, she realized she was jealous of the old woman, and afraid.

She hadn't made any noise discernable over the Lake's constant murmuring, but the pair on the sh.o.r.e looked in her direction at the same time.

Michael stood. "Good morning," he said. His quiet voice carried over the water. "How are you feeling? Do you need help?"

Now she was on her feet and had been moving around, she wasn't feeling as steady as she would have liked. Still, she shook her head. Under the combined weight of their gazes, she found a s.p.a.ce in the boat's railing where a hinged bar had been propped open. She stepped onto the pier.

A sharp gust of wind lifted a flap of the blanket and exposed the long line of one slender, honey-colored leg up to her waist. Though her thin nylon panties didn't offer much cover, she was grateful she wasn't totally nude under the poncho. She gripped the edges of the recalcitrant blanket to hold it in place as she walked toward the waiting pair.

The old woman watched her progress with a neutral expression. Her wrinkled face was cla.s.sic. Mary could see in it the ghost of the beautiful woman who had appeared in her vision and the dream. With a p.r.o.nounced bone structure and high cheeks, she could have been at home on an American Indian reservation, or a Greek island, or the streets of Moscow.

Michael said, "After the trip we had, I thought you would sleep longer. If I'd known you would wake this early, I would have brought you the dry clothes Astra brought. At least you've managed to find a solution for yourself."

"It'll do for now, but I could wish for a little less breeze," she said wryly. "And my feet are freezing." She shook her head at the seat Michael offered. Instead she held herself erect as she turned to meet the shrewd black gaze that watched her with an inscrutable patience. Feeling at a complete loss, she said, "h.e.l.lo, Astra."

Chapter Thirteen.

ASTRA'S DARK, UPTURNED eyes filled with a sudden glitter of tears, and her delicate, papery expression reformed. "Thank you, Creator," Astra breathed. "It's been so long."

Without warning, a huge, tangled wave of emotion welled inside of Mary, like the creature from her dream that had risen from an immeasurable depth.

Deep gladness, grief, anger and pain, and a baffled kind of love. To her intense shock and embarra.s.sment, a sob broke out of her. The sound cracked through the quiet.

Astra lifted both hands to her. She sank to her knees and took them. Then she leaned forward to put her face in the old woman's lap. Her shoulders clenched as she tried to rein in her emotion. Astra leaned over and held her tight.

"I'm so sorry," Mary said when she could speak. Her breathing had turned ragged as she struggled for control. "Sometimes I don't understand myself."

"Don't hover, Michael," Astra snapped over her head. "This is mine to deal with. Go away."

"Mary, would you like me to stay?" Michael asked. She felt his large, warm hand press against her back.

"It's okay," she said, swiping at her eyes and nose with the corner of her blanket. Regardless of whether or not Astra could hear her, she added telepathically, I need to talk with her, but I would appreciate it if you didn't go far.

I won't. Call if you need me.

Thank you.

She felt his fingers brush her tangled hair. His departure was noiseless, but she knew without looking when his presence had moved away. She lifted her head from Astra's lap and sat back on her heels, rubbing her scratchy eyes.

After a keen, searching glance, Astra turned brisk.

"I brought down hot tea and water, biscuits and bacon," she said, taking one of the two thermos bottles and pouring a measure of hot brown liquid into its lid. "There are more amenities up at the cabin, of course, but I also have a couple of visitors. I thought it would be better if we could have a little privacy before we head up."

Mary said, "When Nicholas brought your message, he told us that his father is here."

"Yes. Nicholas's young nephew Jamie is here as well." Astra's gaze stayed focused on the hot drink she held. "Michael and I also didn't want to leave or disturb you, so I fixed a snack to bring down here for when you woke. Here, drink up. It's sweet."

"Thank you," Mary said.

She sipped with care at the steaming cup. She wanted the tea badly but her thirst was too strong to be a.s.suaged by delicate sips. Before she could ask, Astra handed her the second opened flask. She set the tea aside to gulp at the cool fresh-tasting water until the flask was empty.

In silence, Astra offered her other things. Unable to face solid food just yet, she shook her head at the plastic container filled with biscuits and bacon. When the older woman dug into nearby canvas bags and held out a pair of thermal socks, she gladly accepted them and tugged them over her chilled feet.

Then she edged as close to the campfire as she could without sitting in the middle of the coals and setting herself on fire. After she had tucked the blanket around her cross-legged form and picked up her tea again, Astra spoke.

"What is it that you don't understand about yourself?" the old woman asked as she picked up a long stick and poked at the fire. "Why you bawled, or why you're so angry with me?"

Shocked by the directness, she took a deep breath. Unsure of how to respond, she hid her face in her cup. The steam from the liquid warmed the cold end of her nose. "I didn't know I was so obvious."

"You know," Astra said after a moment. "You probably don't remember this, at least not yet, but the decision to come after the Deceiver wasn't just a group one. Each of you had to make the decision for yourself. The understanding was that if either one in a mated pair chose not to come on this journey, that one's partner would abide by that choice and stay home."

"No, I don't remember that," she muttered, keeping her head bent.

"All of you chose to go after the Deceiver with me, and you followed me here. None of us could have known how long this fight would take." The seams around her mouth deepened. They seemed to cut as deep into her face as fractured granite cut into the earth. "Is that why you're angry?"

Mary listened intently, picking through the information Astra offered in an effort to see if any of it matched with her emotions. When the other woman finished speaking, she shook her head.

"That's not it," she said. The thermos lid of tea had cooled enough for her to drain it. "I could say that seeing you felt like coming home, but it doesn't. Other than one recurring dream where we all drank the poison, I don't even remember what our home was like. Seeing you feels more like seeing some long-lost member of the family."

"Do you even know why you're angry?"

She grimaced. "This doesn't make any sense. It isn't rational, and I know it's not fair, but I'm mad at you because you've been with Michael for so long when I wasn't able to."

Astra's face went blank. Then she barked out a laugh. "That explains it too," she said. They fell silent again. Astra sighed and looked over the water. Her expression turned dreamy. "I don't know if it's a good thing or not that you don't remember home," she said. "We could see colors that humans can't even imagine. When we heard the vibration of each other's energy, it was like listening to the most beautiful singing imaginable. I remember everything, and it hasn't made it any easier to be here."

On impulse, Mary reached out and touched Astra's knee. Astra covered her fingers with a gnarled, blue-veined hand. She felt a subtle, delicate probing through their joined hands, quite unlike the straightforward vigor and a.s.sured authority in Michael's presence.

In a deliberate act of trust she forced herself to maintain physical contact. She thought she caught a glimmer of approval in those bird-bright eyes before Astra's manner changed.

"Come on, fool," the old woman scolded, leaning forward to reopen the plastic container of food and shove it under her nose. "Eat a biscuit. Michael told me everything that happened yesterday. You've accomplished some undeniable miracles, but that body of yours has taken some harsh punishment. There's a limit to what you can demand of it. Be nice to it and feed it something."

"I'm pretty tired," Mary admitted. Obediently she chose a biscuit, broke it in half and took a bite. To her intense pleasure, it was light and flaky and rich with a b.u.t.tery taste. It melted in her mouth. She bolted the rest of it down and, having rediscovered her appet.i.te, she reached for a slice of bacon.

Astra poured her another cup of tea. "I'm glad the Lake likes you and decided to bring you two here."

Mary stared, the half-eaten piece of bacon held suspended in front of her open mouth. She lowered her hand, swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder. The sun had crested the horizon with a glorious blaze of color. The serene water winked with a reflected array of light.

"I had a dream about the Lake last night," she said. "But I thought it was just a dream." Feeling like the fool Astra had called her, she hurried on to say, "I mean, I dreamt that I had a strange conversation with this ent.i.ty that-it didn't seem to make any sense, so I thought I made it up."

Astra chuckled. "Since when did you get to decide that all creatures have to make sense? You don't make sense all the time. You just said so. What does 'make sense' mean anyway, operate on human logic?"

Her cheeks washed with color. She muttered, "I'm newly reawakened to all this, remember?"

"I know, I know." Still grinning, Astra shook her head. "Don't mind me laughing at you. You managed not to jump in after it when it sang to you, like a lot of humans do when they hear the water spirits. They're beautiful but eerily seductive. Half the time you can't trust a word they say. Whatever the Lake coaxed out of you made it happy, so you did just fine."

Mary stared at her, appalled. "You trusted it with our rescue?"

"I trusted it as much as you can trust any wild creature, to do what is in its own nature," Astra said. She looked out over the water with a flash of calculation in her black eyes. "I figured you and Michael would end up either safely dead or back here. Turns out I was right."

Mary threw her half-eaten piece of bacon in the fire. She snapped, "It creeps me out how you and Michael talk so casually of killing and dying. I like being alive, thank you very much. It's taken me a lot of hard d.a.m.n work to get here. I would appreciate it if you would treat my life with more respect."

Astra looked at her, all amus.e.m.e.nt gone. "I do, you know," she said. "In all the ways that really matter."

She covered her face with her hands, breathing hard.

She forced herself to think of the difference between physical death and total dissolution. If they died, they could be reborn. If they were destroyed, they were gone forever. She remembered the keening noise that had come from Michael's trapped spirit, a sound so unbearable she would do anything to avoid hearing it again.

"Okay," she muttered. "Like I said, I'm still getting used to this. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Astra told her. "I'm too old and jaded. I've had this single goal in front of me, leading me around like some d.a.m.ned pillar of fire for so long I sometimes forget about other things that are also important. You're right to remind me. All life is sacred."

"Speaking of which," Mary said. Astra's attention sharpened on her, her black gaze hardening. "I promised Nicholas that I would see if there was anything I could do for his father as soon as I could."

Astra hunched her thin shoulders in the shabby denim jacket. "Jerry is very sick." She gave Mary a keen look. "Maybe you can do something to help him. It would be a blessing if you could. He's an old friend and a good ally. But you also almost died a couple of times yesterday, and I know you're running on empty. There's no shame in admitting that it would be asking too much from you."

Mary looked at the path. She said, "If he wants my help, I'll have a look at him and do what I can. I can rest afterward."

Astra threw the rest of the tea on the campfire, gathered up the various scattered items and stuffed them into the canvas bags at her feet, pushed against her knees and stood. "Come on then."

Mary stood as well. Even though she was not a tall woman, Astra was still several inches shorter. She paused, looking at the fire that sputtered fitfully. "Shouldn't we finish putting it out?" she asked.

Astra picked up the bags and grunted, "Michael will see to it. He'll get the wet clothes and shoes too, and bring them up."

He's not your servant, Mary thought. Immediately she felt ashamed of herself. With an effort, she managed to keep her surge of resentment from showing in her expression.

Instead she said with care, "He's tired too."

A sly blackbird gaze slid sideways toward her. "Yes, but unlike you, who's sensibly exhausted and no doubt quite happy to think of a hot bath and a real bed in your near future, he's itching to do something manly and useful. Hovering is not useful. Cleaning up our mess down here is."

Mary struggled with her unruly temper. Astra was her elder and held valuable information. She should show respect.

She asked, "Can I carry those bags for you?"

Astra chuckled and handed to her the heavier one filled with the food and thermoses. "So polite. You were brought up well in this life, I can see. Michael was a gifted, horrible little boy whom his parents spoiled dreadfully. I couldn't stand him for years. I don't think he liked me much either, but I was useful to him. We've made our peace, though." She tilted her head back, white hair waving in the languid breeze. "Just wait and see. You and I will too."

Mary struggled with mortification as she followed Astra's slight figure up the path. She gritted, "I didn't realize I was that obvious."

"To me you are," Astra said over her shoulder. "And I could go down on my knees and thank the Creator for it. I'm a paranoid old b.i.t.c.h, and I have fretted so over you, for such a long time. But you, bless your heart, are as clear and as transparent as that silly Lake can be on a sunny day. There isn't a deceitful, corrupt atom in your spirit. Michael tried to tell me, but I had a hard time listening to him. Sometimes I just need to see things for myself."

"You and he have some things in common," Mary said.

A sharp twig jabbed her foot through the sole of her sock. She watched the path with more care.

An old green awareness canopied them. The forest they moved through felt similar to the one where Michael's cabin was located, only more intense and alive. The rustling of the wind in the trees sounded like whispers. Greedily she took breath after breath of the rich fresh air. A tightness that had settled in her chest, one that she hadn't even realized she carried, eased away.

"He and I have discussed this," Astra said. "We share some of our least attractive traits. I acquired mine over the centuries in order to survive. Unfortunately, I think Michael was just born with his. You have my deepest sympathies." She stopped moving, and her voice changed, acquiring a lighthearted malice. "Oh, h.e.l.lo. Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, you know. It's axiomatic."

Mary raised her head. They had reached the end of the incline and the trees. Beyond Astra's shabby little figure, she glimpsed a large, sunlit clearing with a cabin at one end.

Michael lounged on a large cedar swing suspended in a st.u.r.dy frame located at the edge of the forest, not fifteen feet away. His big body looked relaxed, but the tiger was roused and close underneath his skin.

The swing was positioned so an occupant could look at the small bay below through a break in the trees. He tilted back his black-haired head. His smiling gray gaze met Astra's in a connection that was like the metallic clash of two slender rapiers.

Then he looked at Mary. His eyes and face warmed. "You'll soon catch on that one of Astra's favorite games is to bait someone until she gets a reaction. She considers it amusing." He switched to telepathy. How are you holding up?

About how you would expect when reuniting with someone after lifetimes, she said. Complicated. Tired. Emotional. Okay, I think.

"It's considered bad manners to listen in on other people's telepathic conversations." Astra said, and switched back to her chatty voice. "But I gave up worrying about my manners long ago. I do it all the time now." She said to Michael, "She's going to have a look at Jerry and see what she can do for him. After that, I'm going to dunk her in a hot bath, throw a nightgown on her and stuff her in bed. Would you make sure the campfire is out and bring up your things? We'll put your shoes by the stove. With any luck, they'll be dry by lunchtime."

"Of course," he said. He rolled off the swing and rose to his feet with an easy grace.

The movement acted like a trigger. Mary flashed back to the previous night, and the startling destructive beauty of Michael's balletic movements, the chill of the freezing rain and the two black muzzles that had turned on her, filled with hot, metallic death.

A spasmodic shudder rippled through her body. Her blood pressure took a sharp, quick drop, and she pressed both hands to her shaking mouth.

In two swift strides he was in front of her, gripping her upper arms. "What is it?" he asked, his voice sharp. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and covered her eyes, unable to speak. Then she felt Astra interpose her calm energy between them.

"She's been traveling at the speed of light over some rough terrain over the last few days," the old woman said to Michael, as she put a gnarled hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Give her some s.p.a.ce and let her react."

He resisted her feeble push. "Mary?"

It was too much. She felt too many complicated nuances with too many people. Too many subterranean, half-understood emotions.

She pointed the gun and emptied the clip at them.

Just like Michael had taught her.