Then there was the woman— the second Mrs. Gillis, presumably, but certainly young enough to be his daughter. Taller than Ariadne, she had fairer hair than her predecessor’s honey color, and her figure was fuller— a great deal fuller, if those were real— and the straining sweater was pink cashmere. Perhaps it was not fair to judge a person’s intelligence on first sight, especially at gunpoint, but Jerry had a strong suspicion that the second Mrs. Gillis had not been chosen for brains; her qualifications were more the sort that Killer would appreciate. She wore tailored pants in lime green, all splattered with mud now, and those made Jerry think of lady golfers. Perhaps that was formal dress these days.
Jerry could read rage on Gillis, contempt and wariness from Carlo— not fear from a kid his age? The woman was scared, of course, but even so there was an insipid vagueness about the round, doll-like face.
The most interesting thing about the second Mrs. Gillis, though, was that she was clutching the screaming Alan, while Lacey was standing close, with an arm around her, staring at her mother across the room.
Gillis was a rooster; he would start blustering at any moment. Carlo— a donkey, stubborn and likely to kick. The woman— a dove, perhaps, good for cooing and not much else. Ariadne, he had thought of as a canary, small and golden and full of song Jerry made sure that Killer had his eyes on the visitors and then looked at Ariadne, whose pearly gray Meran cape and pants made her seem much more properly dressed to him. The haunted look that he had noticed when she first arrived was redoubled now. She was hunching her shoulders and hugging her arms around herself, making herself smaller than ever, and staring nowhere with haggard eyes. He remembered the flash of hope that had come with belief in Mera. Now it had gone, and he longed to know what those delicate features would look like when it returned, when he had her safely out of this mess. He suspected that they would fill with a very sparkly sort of fun and humor, for there had been hints of humor, even in her troubles.
Like small people. The storks bring them— feeble in itself, but a good attempt under the circumstances. Certainly she had nothing to laugh at now, with her children so obviously clutching at The Other Woman. This was going to be an interesting session.
He had just finished his survey, then, when Alan stopped his wailing. “There, there,” and, “Tush, tush, tush,” muttered the girl, rocking him. She might be a dumb blond and might look more like the teenage babysitter from next door than a mother, but she wasn’t doing a bad job with Awful Alan.
Jerry wandered over to Ariadne’s chair and laid his Uzi on the floor, then collected the pistol from Killer and headed back to the edge of the table, facing his captives and staying out of Killer’s line of fire. He pulled the wand out of his belt— but of course they would not be able to see that.
He was bone tired, but also jittery with tension, a nasty combination, and he wished he could feel as calmly relaxed as Killer seemed to be, broken leg or not. Killer had much, much more experience in this sort of thing, of course, and it was a long time since J. Howard had exercised command.
Carry on, Squadron Leader!
It wouldn’t hurt to let them see that he was nervous— they might heed his warnings more— but if he started to fall apart, then all was lost. He must keep control. He braced himself and tried to put authority into his voice.
“I give the orders,” he said. “My name is Jerry Howard. My friend affects the name of Killer.” Carlo’s lip curled and Gillis’ brows dropped. “He has earned it! The first order is this: Until morning, no one leaves, the door stays closed, as do the windows. You are not even to touch the drapes, or look out. Is that absolutely clear? I shall shoot anyone who touches a curtain.”
“You would shoot a child for looking out a window?” demanded Gillis.
Jerry waved the automatic. “I might have no choice; we are in a very dangerous situation. I will explain, but you are not going to believe me. That doesn’t matter. You only have to believe that I believe, because I have the gun. There is evil out there.” He expected a smart-aleck reply from the Carlo kid, but he didn’t get one. “You heard those howls in the woods?”
“What the hell were those?” demanded Gillis.
Jerry shrugged. He was quite sure that he had heard wolves earlier, but by the end they had been something else, and he suspected hyenas— a much nastier killer than the lion, which had had a better press. But talking about hyenas in North Dakota, or wherever these people thought they were, wasn’t going to get him very far. The main thing was that the foe had recognized the Uzis’ firepower and held back— which meant that something bigger was on its way.
” ‘What the hell’ is the correct question,” he said. “The supernatural is loose here, tonight.” Gillis snorted. “What kind of a shakedown is this? You got the kids back. What else are you after?”
“Shut up!” said Jerry. “We only wanted to restore Ariadne’s children to her, and the only reason I am keeping the rest of you here now is that it is too damned dangerous to throw you out in the rain. If we’re all alive in the morning, then you are free to go. I know you don’t believe in ghoulies and ghosties, but by morning you will.” Their expressions said that no, they wouldn’t.
He shrugged. “Perhaps I can demonstrate a little, because I am going to search you. Mrs. Gillis’ purse, if you please?” The big man scowled and lifted his wife’s handbag from the floor. Jerry edged cautiously around the table and reached out with the wand, hooking the handles and pulling it from Gillis’ hand. The three newcomers gasped simultaneously, for it must be seeming to float of its own accord. Jerry swung it around, walked over, and laid it in Ariadne’s lap, seeing Killer grinning hideously at the juvenile prank.
“Just check for weapons,” Jerry said. He noticed that little Lacey did not seem surprised, so she could see the wand and therefore had believed what Killer had told her. It was ironic that those who did not believe in faerie and Mera would see magic, while those who did believe would not.
“Nothing,” Ariadne said in a dull voice. Her pallor was incredible, and she must surely be reaching a breaking point. He returned the purse on the end of the wand, dropping it at its owner’s feet.
“Your jacket, Mr. Gillis?” Jerry said. “Stand up and remove it slowly, please.” The big man folded his arms. “Look, Howard, if that’s your real name, you’re in big trouble. I have legal custody of those children, so you are abetting a kidnapping. Your accomplice fired on our automobile and then used automatic weapons. You’re holding us here at gunpoint, and federal— ”
“Your jacket!”
“How much is she paying you?”
“She— Mrs. Gillis— isn’t paying me anything,” Jerry said. “Where I come from and where I’m going, money is of no use at all.”
“True, because you’re going to jail.”
Jerry smiled. “Nice try, but not so. Now, your jacket or I shall have to unchain Killer again. Keep your hands in view, Carlo!”
Warily Gillis rose and removed his jacket. Again Jerry fished for it with the end of the wand, and the big man watched carefully, trying to understand the trickery. There was nothing of interest in the pockets except a little flat thing with numbered buttons that looked like some sort of calculating machine, and Jerry quietly pocketed that out of general interest… It probably wouldn’t work in Mera, though. No, the curiosity was the shoulder holster now revealed on Gillis; the automatic had been his. Did respectable businessmen go around armed in this time frame? Not a rooster, then, a gander— less noisy, but vicious.