Chapter 79

Northern California

"Are ya certain this is necessary?" Amber asked as Matt taped a hidden microphone to her chest.

"Trust me darlin'… this way we'll know exactly who's down there and what their policy is." Matt stepped away from her. "Now talk to me normally."

"Normally? Well what would ya consider normal?"

Matt held an earpiece up and motioned for her to continue.

"My luv is like a red, red, rose… that's lately come in spring," Amber began.

"That'll do it… nice and clear," Matt grinned. "Now we just have to hope they don't search you too thoroughly."

Amber raised an eyebrow as she snorted at him. "I'll keep that in mind… if I have a choice."

Katya put an arm about the young woman's shoulders and gave her a hug. "Stay strong… we'll be there to help."

Amber nodded and picked up an empty gas can. Her sword was well hidden within her coat… and she had a .38 caliber handgun stuck in the small of her back where she could effectively grab it if she needed to. A Bowie knife was hidden in her left boot. Letting out a big sigh… she smiled with a wave and headed off down the slope toward the ranch house area.

Katya crawled behind the rocks and watched Amber descend to the main road… and then head toward the main gate. "Will they buy her story of being out of gas?" she asked Matt as he settled next to her… the volume control for his earpiece in his hands. He looked at her and shook his head. If these were more of these Watchers… they'd likely shoot first and then drag her in. He'd have to figure out numbers from the voices he heard and hope they didn't find the microphone… at least not until he and Katya had mounted their attack.

Katya sighed and lifted the binoculars. She was "eyes", while Matt was "ears" for this mission… and she wondered if it would be enough.

Twenty yards from the gate… Amber noticed two men with rifles slung on their shoulders, move into the road before the gate. They stared down the road at her.

Amber raised a hand for a wave and lifted the gas can out for them to see. "Hellooooo!" she called out.

The two men seemed to look at one another; then one of them waved back at her.

Amber let her best smile sparkle on her face as she approached… and managed not to reach for a weapon. Her heart pounded in her chest… and she felt as if a cold hand was squeezing her throat. "Death is here," she thought as she shivered. Aloud she called out. "I've run out of gas… would ya be havin' some I could buy?" By this time she stood between the two men.

The short one had stringy dirty blonde hair, which hung loose under his straw hat. Dressed like many of the ranch hands of the time, in jeans, plaid shirt, vest, and boots, his pale blue eyes seemed red-rimmed in the late afternoon sun. He squinted at her… then turned and spat tobacco.

The other was a black man… bald beneath his hat and dressed about the same as the other man. The leer on his face made Amber nervous… as if he already knew who and what she was… and what he planned to do. He reached over and took the gas can from her hand. "Follow me… I'm certain we have something to help you. Bob… watch the gate!" He headed into the compound as Amber followed nervously.

Her eyes raked across the compound. "Eight," she said quietly. The man halted and turned back to her quizzically. Amber grinned and shrugged. "Been a couple hours since I last ate… is there any way I could be getting' somethin' to eat while I'm here."

"Might be able to arrange somethin'," the man said.

"Do ya' have a name?" she said trying to make conversation.

"Dwight," he said setting the gas can down next to a tank and flipping the switch to pump her enough gas to fill her can. "This county's not safe for people. It can be deadly to run out of gas."

"Aye," Amber agreed. "Twas my own fault. I shoulda' checked more carefully." Again her eyes moved over the compound. "Looks to be a nice ranch… a fine house… a bunkhouse… a barn. Is it good workin' here?" she finally asked as Dwight finished up.

He nodded. "It's tolerable." He screwed the cap back on and handed her the gascan. "Pay's not too shabby, neither!"

"Oh… and what kind of duties do ya and the other lads have to do here?"

Dwight flipped his rifle up suddenly and fired. As Amber swayed a moment and then sank to her knees, he leaned over and whispered. "I get to take out the trash."

"Damn!" Matt snapped and clambered to his feet. "She's already down and we gotta move."

Katya lowered the binoculars. "I only saw six men… Are you certain she said eight?"

"That she saw… Let's go." Matt scrambled back to the SUV, starting the ignition even as he climbed in. "Hold on… It's gonna get bumpy!"

Katya held on… Matt wasn't kidding… as the SUV descended the mountainside and roared toward the gate. Evidently… Matt was planning on running straight into it.

Athens

Standing on a chair enabled Denara to handle some minor cooking chores. It was her size… or rather lack of size… that made cooking difficult. But the swordmaster had said no hired help… and Ursa was useless in a kitchen. So Denara made the attempt. Nothing too elaborate… mainly just heat and eat convenience food.

"If I ever can live on my own…" she grumbled, "I'll be certain the kitchen is scaled for me." Satisfied that the soup was heating nicely and that she could leave it for a bit on simmer, Denara climbed down and went in search of her giant companion.

She found him in the walled courtyard… sitting in the afternoon sun with his eyes closed… his great bladed weapon resting comfortably in his arms. At her approach, Ursa looked up at her. "We need to go back," he said in his low rumbling voice. "Old ones want us to help Nick."

"We have to wait here, Ursa. Phillip said that our being on the island might bring the Watchers back. We are helping Nick and Valeraine… by remaining here… out of sight."

Ursa shook his great head. "Nestor strong… fights to be free. Nick can no longer hold him."

Denara sat on a nearby stone bench… letting her small legs dangle before her. Staring thoughtfully at Ursa, she finally asked him, "How do you know this?"

Ursa shook his head. "Voices in my head."

"Whose voice?"

Ursa shrugged as he continued to shake his head. "Old ones. Sometimes I hear old ones talk. Not like you talk… but pictures."

"You see visions."

Ursa knotted his brows as if contemplating her choice of words. "Pictures of places and people."

"What people? What places?"

"Nick at holy place." Ursa smiled at her. "Like day we went. Need to take Nick there."

Denara considered his words carefully. Ursa's size could not be hidden. If they left this house… whatever Watchers were looking for them would find them. They'd lead them back to the island… and Nick would be vulnerable. If the Watchers killed him… then likely Valeraine or one of them would have to hold Nestor… and Denara feared what then might happen. Phillip was right! They could not return to Niebos until after this was over. Ursa's visions might be important… but Denara knew she was not the one to interpret them. "We have to wait here, Ursa. When Phillip returns… then we can take Nick back to the cove. Then you can do what the pictures tell you… but not now."

Ursa's shoulders sagged in disappointment. He must wait. He had no idea where the island was… or where he was… all he had was an urge to get back there. If he closed his eyes… he could see the cove… as he had seen it even before first going there with the others. He could see the cove… the waves breaking on the rocks… and he could see himself carrying Nick out onto the rock shelf… where a woman with green eyes waited. She had not been there when they'd gone before… so he'd known the time wasn't right. But she would be there soon… and when she was… Ursa needed to take Nick to her.

"Ursa wait," he finally said aloud. "Old ones say soon."

Denara hopped down off the stone bench and pulled him with her into the house. "It's time to eat Ursa," she said.

Niebos

After splashing warm water on her face, Valeraine dried it and for a moment buried her face within the plush white towel. She was weary and depressed. Welling up within her was the need to sit down and have a good cry. But she needed to be strong… or at least seem strong… in Nick's presence. She persisted in thinking of him as Nick… she insisted calling him that… despite all signs that there might be nothing left of Nick… or of Marie-France in the creature resting strapped to the bed.

Carefully folding the towel beside the bowl of water… Valeraine quietly returned to her chair and curled up to read another scene from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.

A cackle rose from Nick. Obviously he knew she was tired. And just as obviously was testing her resolve to ignore him… and anything from him that resembled Nestor.

He opened his mouth and let out a moan… his hips struggling up and down in some parody of an intimacy that could never be. Then laughter sounded again.

Valeraine wondered how long he could keep this up! She'd promised to stay here… not to leave him alone… but she so wanted to take a walk… breath fresh air… feel the wind on her face… and know that something other than this room still existed in the world.

He cackled again… as if he knew her thoughts. Then the thrashing and moaning began again… interspersed with his laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort.

"I will not listen to this," she finally said, and began to read aloud. The words and the sound of her voice filled her thoughts… she focused on the scenes as she imagined them… and let the play become reality… and reality become the nightmare she was fleeing.

Sometime later she glanced up… aware that Nick's moans had long ago stopped. He let out a great sigh and pounded his palm on the mattress. Yes! Yes! Yes!

Valeraine bit her tongue to keep from asking "What?" and continued to read. Viola was dressed as a boy… and unable to tell the duke of her love. She had to carry his messages to another… "Like Viola," Valeraine sighed sadly, "I cannot speak my love… nor ever hope to gain it."

At a soft knock, she looked up. Madame Kouris entered with a tray of food. As she set it down… the woman clucked, "You really need to get out of here a bit. Why don't you take a short break?"

Valeraine shook her head. "I can't."

"But of course you can. He's strapped in. He's not going anywhere. What could happen?"

Valeraine glanced at the open door and considered it for a moment. He was restrained. If she stayed in the house… only took a short break… if Madame remained… could she dare it?

"Go child!" Madame Kouris motioned gently. "I will remain with him."

Valeraine shook her head. "I can't Madame. Nick is my responsibility… not yours. I can understand him… you can't."

Madame Kouris laughed gently. "I have taken care of invalids before. My husband… God rest his soul… was bed-ridden for years before he died."

"Nick can be… difficult," Valeraine objected, not really wanting to explain his particular problems to the woman. While the woman had known Phillip since she was a child… and may understand something of his immortality… she likely did not know of Valeraine's… and Valeraine did not want her to learn of Nick's… nor of what remained within him. "I appreciate the offer… perhaps another time," she sighed… all the while eyeing Nick and his understanding of the conversation. While Nick did not really speak Greek… he might have learned some over the years of her reading and translating. But it was likely Nestor who listened and who waited for an opportunity… a lax moment when he could manage a way to be free. Valeraine was determined not to give him such a moment.

Madame Kouris nodded as she clasped her hands. "Well… the offer stands, child. If you need a break… I will watch him." She turned slowly and left… closing the door behind her.

Nick cackled.

Evidently he'd understood enough of what they'd said… the tone if not the words… that he knew basically what had transpired. Valeraine let him cackle for several moments… then she began to read once more… purposely ignoring the food on the tray.

Before too much time had elapsed… Nick began slamming his hand into the mattress and moaning. No! No! No! He was evidently hungry… and wanted to eat.

"You need to behave if you wish to eat," the girl said softly, reminding him that she would not tolerate any behavior to the contrary.

Yes! Nick's palm pounded.

Valeraine closed the book and pulled her chair closer to the bed. She reached for bread and tore off a piece… soaked it in the thick broth and offered it to him. Nick snapped at it hungrily… as if he were starved. His mouth closed around her fingers and he applied pressure… sucking at them.

Pulling them free… Valeraine quietly wiped the tears away. She no longer thought Nick Wolfe existed at all.