A little part of us.
Now he could hardly remember that at all. The pride and love and hope had been driven away by Puppetman's needs. There was a faint fluttering beneath his fingertips. Ellen laughed with the baby's movements.
Let the baby grow up a little.
And Gregg nearly pulled his hand away as if burned. The suspicion was like a physical blow. He knew, and with the knowledge, Puppetman howled inside.
The difficulties with Puppetman had started slowly and intermittently only -a few months ago. The Gimli-presence had been faint and weak and unformed then, easily pushed away. Getting more active every day, stronger.
"Oh, my god," Gregg whispered. The fetus kicked again, softly. He let the power slip out, just a touch. He looked inside Ellen, at the primal colors of the fetus.
There, wrapped around the child's emotional matrix like some strangling vine, there were other hues. Very familiar tints and shades.
Gimli had said it: No, not dead. Just changed. It took me a long time to get back..
"I can't believe it myself, sometimes," Ellen laughed. "It's so incredible to feel it, to know that this life-our child-is growing inside me."
Gregg lay wide-eyed, staring at her stomach and his hand. "Yes," he told her. "Yes, it's incredible."
"I wonder who it'll look like?" Ellen patted Gregg's hand. "I'll bet it'll take after you," she said.
It can't be true, he told himself. Please don't let it be true. But he knew it was.
7:00 A.M.
"Jesus Christ, stop plucking at me! I don't need this shit!" Jack gripped the Takisian's hands, and flung them away like a man flicking water. "Jesus."
Tach firmly quashed the irritation he felt rising like gorge in the back of his throat, but still said in slightly aggrieved tones, "I was concerned. You could have been killed."
The snap of a lighter as Jack lit a Camel. "Well, find another way to show it. By the way, you look like shit."
"Thank you so very much. I didn't sleep last night."
"Hey, ditto."
"Jack, what happened? It was all so garbled on the news reports. I'm standing there brushing my teeth when I see you plummeting into the piano." He cocked his head to one side, and considered. "Which is, I suppose, the only fortuitous thing to come out of this mess."
"Fortuitous, hell. I was aiming for that damn piano." Then in a few staccato sentences the ace outlined the rest of the evening; Sara's clumsy come-on, Jack's plan for taking the journalist out of the way, the arrival of the horrifying hunchback, the fight. Cognac-flavored vomit hit the back of Tachyon's throat, and he bolted for the bathroom.
"Now what?" Jack called.
Tach emerged wiping his mouth on a wet washcloth. "Sara, where is she now?"
"Hell, I don't know. She went out of that room like a missile, and I can't say I blame her. I haven't seen her since." Tachyon pressed his hands to his face. "Mothers of my mother forgive me. I didn't believe her."
"What?"
"She came to me Monday night. Tried to tell me she was in danger. I wouldn't listen." The import of what he had just said struck him, and Tach lurched back into the bathroom.
He was down to stomach juices. The acid burned on its way up. Like the acid eating away at his trust, his certainty. Hartmann is an ace.
Help me. You'll be sorry.
Arms embracing the toilet, the ceramic rim cool against his burning cheek Tach murmured, "Help me."
Jack lifted him to his feet and asked, "How? What is it you need? What the hell's going on? Why did you bring up a secret ace on Monday? Talk to me, Tachy."
"Not now, Jack. Not now. I must find Sara."
8:00 A.M.
Billy Ray knocked and poked his head through the open door. "Security says the stairs are clean, Senator. You two ready?"
"We're coming now," Gregg told him. He finished knotting his tie and adjusted it around his neck.
Puppetman prowled like a sleek cat just under the surface, waiting. Ellen came from the bedroom and gave Gregg a worried, concerned glance. Gregg smiled back reassuringly, hating the act. "I'm fine," he said. "Much better this morning since I talked with you. Back to normal." He put his arms around her and patted her belly. "After all, the kid might just have a president for a daddy, right?"
Ellen leaned against him. She hugged him wordlessly. "He still kicking this morning, darling?"
"He? And just what makes you so sure it's a boy?" Ellen teased him, hugging him again.
Gregg shrugged. Because my child's a goddamn dwarf joker who's supposed to be dead. Because I've heard him talking to me. "Just a hunch, love."
Ellen chuckled against his chest. "Well, he's been mostly quiet. I think he's asleep."
The breath went out of Gregg in a sigh. He closed his eyes momentarily. "Good," he said. "Good. Let's go, then. Amy and John are probably waiting." He waved to Billy.
The morning staff briefings were held in the campaign headquarters one floor below. Gregg had always taken the stairs down-while he could have commandeered an elevator, it hardly seemed worth it. Now he was glad for the routine. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
You're sure? You're sure this will end it? The power was vibrating with intensity. Puppetman's voice was insistent.
I don't know. If it doesn't, we'll find another way. I promise. Now that we know, we can plan. Just wait and be ready.
The stairwell was an ugly contrast to the halls: stained concrete landings connected by steep metal stairs. They nodded to Alex James, stationed there as usual. Echoes rebounded as Billy held the door open and let Ellen pass. Gregg caught the door and motioned to Billy to precede him. I don't want to do this. I don't, Gregg thought.
We don't have a choice. Puppetman. Eager.
He searched in his head for Gimli and found nothing. He let Puppetman loose.
As Ellen approached the stairs, the power lanced from Gregg in a rush, fearing that if he hesitated at all Gimli would stop him again. He invaded her long-open mind and found what he wanted.
It was all there, as he knew it would be: A faint, swirling vertigo as Ellen looked down the stairs; an uneasy feeling of imbalance from the unaccustomed forward weight of her stomach. Puppetman wrenched brutally at both responses, dampening everything else in her mind. When the inevitable quick panic followed, he amplified that as well.
It took less than a second. It was worse than he'd thought it would be.
Ellen tottered, screamed in fright. Her hand grasped far too late for the handrail.
Puppetman leaped for Billy Ray in that instant. He truncated the adrenaline surge as Billy saw Ellen lose her balance on that first step, slowing the ace's superb reflexes.
Gregg himself could have done nothing even if he'd wished, trapped behind Ray. Billy made a valiant leap for Ellen; his fingertips grazed her flailing arm and then closed on empty air. Ellen fell. It seemed to take a very long time.
Gregg pushed past the horrified Ray, whose hand was still futilely outstretched. Ellen lay crumpled against the wall on the next landing, her eyes closed and a deep gash streaming blood down one side of her head. As Gregg reached her, her eyes opened, clouded with pain. She tried to sit up as Gregg cradled her and Ray shouted for James to call an ambulance.
Ellen moaned, clutching suddenly at her stomach. There was bright blood between her legs. Her eyes widened. "Gregg," she breathed. "Oh, Gregg…"
"I'm sorry, Ellen. My god, I'm sorry."
Then she began to cry with tremendous gasping sobs. He cried with her, mourning for the child that might have been, while another part of him celebrated.
For that instant, he hated Puppetman.