"There's something you don't want me to know," he pressed. "Something that you think will leave a scar?"
"Patience," she said.
Fine, he thought. Let her keep her stupid secrets. He was determined to wait her out.
Bron woke at dawn and showered quickly. He was just stepping out of the guest shower with his towel wrapped around him when he heard the back door creak open, the one that led to his bedroom.
He glanced to the back of the room. The old man, Blair, stood smiling his skeletal smile.
Bron's heart thudded.
"Don't worry, Bron," the old man said. "We're friends."
There was something creepy about the way that he said it. It was like a twisted dream. It was an echo of what he'd said when Bron was captured.
"Who are you?" Bron demanded.
The old man smiled. "I'm Father Leery, for the most part."
Bron stood for a moment, feeling naked and vulnerable. He clutched the towel around him. "Okay," he said, unsure what the man was after. "What do you want?"
"I just came to let you know. The Draghouls that were here in town, the dread knights—I caught them all. It wasn't hard. When they saw me coming, I was wearing the face of a trusted comrade, so it was easy to get close, touch them, take them down."
Bron's heart pounded. He wondered if he could ever trust anyone again. Would Olivia come to him someday, greeting him with a smile, as a poppet? Is that how the enemy would come?
Bron's sizraels extended, the ribs along the edge of the suction cups becoming firm.
Yes, he realized, the enemy might come to him like that. "That's good news," Bron said. He stayed a few paces back. He didn't want the creepy old man near.
Blair smiled warmly, and there was a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to the world of the Ael, Bron. I could tell you not to be afraid, but I'd be doing you a disservice. Any time that you see another masaak, you need to be cautious."
Bron nodded slightly.
"It was a busy night," Blair said. "Even with three of us working, we've been up all hours. We visited the Walton home. I know what you did to Justin... draining his will."
"It was an accident."
"Don't return it. The boy is a danger to you. You can't guess how nasty his mind is, how dangerous his cunning. He's all small-minded jealousy, but he imagines that he's fueled by righteous desires. With a little less will, he won't be likely to act upon his more vicious impulses."
"Is that everything?" Bron asked. He wanted this ghoulish character out of his room.
"For now," Blair agreed. "I'll be going to Los Angeles. I'm going to lead the Draghouls off your trail, call in a sighting of you there. Everything should calm down here, at least for awhile."
"Just for awhile?"
"I'm just hoping that I can get them to look for you in the wrong place. I can't promise anything."
"Oh," Bron said.
The old man opened the door. "God bless," he said, and then slipped out.
Bron went to the door after Blair was gone, bolted it. His head whirled. He felt as if reality had become slippery, and he didn't quite know what was real anymore.
Someone pounded on the front door to the bedroom, and Bron wondered briefly if Blair had gone around the house.
Mike poked his head in. He had a broad smile, as if he was a kid who'd just stolen a cookie. After the nightmare that was last night, Bron couldn't imagine why Mike would smile, but then he realized: Mike probably remembered nothing. Olivia would have taken care of that. The police had never taken Bron into custody. Bron had never been handcuffed.
"Did I hear you talking to someone?" Mike asked.
"Just myself," Bron said. "I was making up lyrics."
Mike nodded wisely, as if he'd suspected just that. "I got a phone call from Marie Mercer a minute ago. She pointed out that it's silly for both you and Galadriel to be driving to school every day, when you live right next door." Bron groaned inwardly. He could have suggested a carpool, but he didn't take the bait. "Marie has a proposition for you: if you'll drive Galadriel to and from school, Marie will keep your gas tank full. What do you think?"
Bron was not in any position to decline. He didn't have an income, and the truth was, he worried about how much he was costing the Hernandez family.
Mike grinned. "Hey, you get paid to drive a pretty girl around? Sounds like a bargain to me!"
Bron smiled sheepishly. "All right."
Mike grinned as he left and said, "I'll let her know."
Bron dressed slowly, went out into the kitchen. Olivia was frying up bacon and eggs.
"Can we talk about something?" Bron asked.
"Mike's gone out to work," she said.
"That old man just came to the back door," Bron said, "the one Father Leery caught last night?"
"Oh, Father Leery," she said, as if the old man and Father Leery were one and the same. "What did he have to say?"
Bron told her everything, somehow hoping that the world would make more sense if he just... thought about it.
Olivia was silent a moment, then admitted, "I slipped into the neighbor's house last night. Marie and Galadriel won't remember a thing, either."
Bron suddenly felt relieved. All his problems of the last few days were ... gone, overnight. The world had reshaped, like a nightmare that twists into a pleasant daydream.
"So that's it?" Bron asked. "It's over?"
"We can't be sure," Olivia said. "With the Draghoul, nothing's easy."
"That's such a strange name, Draghoul," Bron said. "Blair said it with a little bit of a K sound, with an accent. More like Dragh-kool. Where does it come from?"
"It's an ancient term, from an forgotten empire that crumbled thousands of years ago," Olivia said. "It comes from a combination of words: dray and gul. It means the 'dark guild.' Originally the dark guild was a criminal organization, something like the mafia. It was a society of thieves and assassins that worked by night. Eventually, they became more of a political power."
"This Shadow Lord that the priest mentioned: who is he?"
Olivia weighed her words. "He's the leader of the Dark Guild."
"So, how exactly do you stay alive for three hundred years?"
Olivia just smiled secretively and would answer no more questions. "That's enough for one day. All of your questions will be answered: very soon, I think."
The sun was cresting the horizon when Bron went to the car. In Pine Valley, the light just sort of drifted over the hills in the morning. The sun had not yet risen above the purple mountains on the far side of the vale. The grass in the fields held hints of autumn tans, and this morning there was a slight blue mist above the creek out back. A pair of mallards circled the marsh.
Bron got into his Corolla and started it up, punched the radio on, and then opened the moon roof as the engine warmed. He drove carefully out of the driveway, avoiding the deeper potholes.
He reached the Mercer's big log cabin. It stood three stories high and was made of white pine, stained a golden brown. The cabin had huge windows on the front and sides, so that the folks inside would be able to take advantage of the gorgeous views of the valley and the mountains above.
That house would be hard to heat in the winter, Bron realized. In most of the houses he'd lived in, his foster parents had always complained of the cost of heating. But he figured that if you had enough money, it wouldn't matter.
He worried that he might have to go up and ring the bell to get Galadriel, and he worried what her mom might say. Would she tease him about bringing her daughter home on time? Or would she try to force money on him immediately, as if he were some desperate slob who needed it?