She was not sure she liked anyof them.
Bidewell smiled, revealing strong teeth like mottled bone tiles. “Would you please join our group, Miss Virginia Carol?” he asked. “A little premature, perhaps. Dr. Sangloss is not yet here.”
Ginny remembered the doctor who treated her at the clinic, who told her about Bidewell and the green warehouse. Nothing surprised her now.
The pawnshop—her stone.
The women regarded her with wary curiosity, awaiting her reaction. I might bite. Who are they?
Another rumble of thunder.
The woman with the green coat got to her feet and extended her hand. “My name is Ellen,” she said. Ginny held back, but the woman advanced. Given no polite option, Ginny relented and shook with her. Ellen then introduced the redhead, whose name was Agazutta.
The stout woman with the appraising look was Farrah. She said, “The storm is just getting started, Virginia. This time, it’s not after you—not yet.”
“I know that,” Ginny said.
The stout woman continued. “We have an hour at most. We should have made our move sooner.”
“I’ve been slow, it’s true,” Bidewell confessed. “A little tired of late. Forgive me. We need you, Virginia, because none of us is a fate-shifter.”
“What’s a fate-shifter?” Ginny asked, and then it dawned on her. Her mouth opened. Her eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she was more than suspicious—she was frightened. She had never told anyone, for fear of losing that which she wasn’t even sure she had—and now others knew. That either made it real, a confirmation of years of frightened dreams and desperate hopes, or a shared delusion. A roomful of crazies, just like her.
Introductions over, Ellen held up a plastic bag and pulled out a crumpled tabloid, the Seattle Weekly.“I found this in my recycling bin,” she explained, and opened the paper on the wooden table to the classifieds. A small section had been torn out, about the size of one or two personals. “Virginia might know what it means.”
Ginny turned away, face red.
“No need to be frightened or ashamed,” Bidewell said.
“Of course not. Where isMiriam?” Agazutta asked, looking to the wooden door at the other end of the room.
Farrah continued to stare at Ginny, patient, implacable. Measuring. “The girl knows,” she said softly.
“She’s been there—and escaped.”
Ginny glared at her, then the others, helpless, defiant, like a deer surrounded by tigers. As if on cue, Minimus leaped onto the table and sat by the paper. He lifted a white paw and scratched madly at the tabloid, shredding it.
“There is the question these hunters always ask as they lure their young prey into a trap,” Bidewell said.
“Someone is about to answer.”
“A young man named Jack,” Ellen said. “Another like you, Virginia. A fate-shifter.”
“‘Do you dream of a city at the end of time?’” Ginny whispered.
“We know,” Farrah said. “Our time’s shorter than we thought. What can we do?”
The wooden door at the far end of the library opened and Miriam Sangloss entered. “Finally,” Agazutta said.
“Apologies.” Beneath a dripping brown slicker, Sangloss wore a short white lab coat, blue blouse, and jeans. Under her left arm she carried a black leatherette folio. “Sorry I’m late.” She removed her slicker and looked around the room, sensing the tension, then grimaced and added, in an aside to Ginny, “Glad to know somepeople take my advice.”
Bidewell cleared a space on the table, pushing the shredded tabloid into a wastebasket. Sangloss laid down the folio and untied it. “I’m now a burglar,” she said, and explained how she had just ransacked a young man’s apartment in the Queen Anne neighborhood. “I got the address from his clinic record. I found this, but couldn’t find his sum-runner. He must have it with him.”
Again, Ginny blinked in surprise.
“They’ve collected him and his stone,” the redhead, Agazutta, said, and slapped her hand on the top of a chair.
“Perhaps not yet,” Miriam said. “But soon. He’s a very confused young man.”
“No more confused than the rest of us,” Farrah said.
The rain hissed on the roof. Minimus looked up, pupils round and deep. Bidewell turned to Ginny. “You should not be afraid of us, Miss Carol. We preserve and protect. The ones on the other end of that ad…” He shook his head. “They’re the monsters.”
“Now that that’sclear,” Miriam said, “let me show you what I found in Jack’s apartment.” She opened the folio and laid a short stack of sketched pages before Ginny. The topmost had been executed in watercolor, crayon, and dark pencil, with daubs and sweeps of pastel color. “Anything look familiar?”
Against her will, Ginny angled her head and looked down at the first drawing. Tiadba. The word—a name—just popped into her head. Remembering was difficult. My visitor…Tiadba has seen these. They look like ships surging into a heavy sea. They must be huge, all three of them…whatever they are. And now she’s sorry she ever left their protection.
“That’s a yes?” Miriam asked, eyes bright. She flipped to the next sheet. Ginny covered her mouth and looked away.
What had been sketched there, with crude skill and determination, was the last thing she would ever hope to see. A huge head rising on a weird scaffold over a rolling black land—tiny, fleeing figures giving it perspective. The head was big as a mountain, its one round, dead eye fixed on a distant point, stabbing a sharp gray beam through smoke and fog. A moan seized in her throat and turned into a fit of coughing. The Witness.
“Poor child,” said Farrah. “Get her some water, Conan.”
“I’m sorry,” Miriam said. “It does look grim, doesn’t it? I wish we could put all the pieces together. We’ve never actually seen these things.”
“Neither have I,” Ginny said. “Not personally…I mean.”
“In dreams,” Bidewell said. “Have you met the young man who drew these?”
Ginny shook her head. “Is he the one they’re collecting?”
“Let’s hope not,” Miriam said. “Ladies…”
They all stood.
“We need you to come with us,” Ellen told Ginny. “Conan will stay here, as always.”
“I have no choice,” Bidewell said.
“Where?” Ginny asked, glancing between them.
“We’ll follow the storm,” Miriam said. “Track the lightning. It’s going to get worse, and nobody knows what this young man will do. If he’s as talented as you, he might just survive until morning. Oh, and one more thing.” The doctor reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. “I found this in a shop near the clinic. Paid quite a lot to convince the pawnbroker to part with it.”
CHAPTER 34
Jack’s thoughts fluttered like a bird in a net. Less than five minutes had passed since he’d made the call. He could climb off the balcony, swing to the porch below…run off down the alley. But a sugary warmth stopped him.
On the other side of the door: friends, thick and sweet as treacle. No need to flee, no need to fear. His feet would not move. Every path equal. Every outcome a good one.
“We are here!” Glaucous cried. “You called, and we are here to give you the answers you need.” Then, almost inaudibly, “I’m afraid I’ve stunned him. You may force entry, my dear.”