The sheriff shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glanced over his shoulder at the whisperers, and nodded toward the home’s interior.
“Maybe we ought to talk inside?”
“Oh,” she said, voice small. Sara shook her head. “I’m sorry. Yes, please come in. I’m just…not myself.”
She stood back to let him pass and closed the door behind him.
“ ’Course you’re not. Don’t worry about it,” the sheriff said. He scratched at the back of his head and glanced around as though expecting someone to be there.
Maybe he’s just not used to being here when Dad’s not home, Sara thought. Or perhaps it might have been that Jackson Norris wasn’t accustomed to making social calls at the Halliwell residence in recent years.
“Can I get you something?” she asked, slipping her hands into the soft cotton pockets in her pajama pants to keep them from fluttering about. “Water? Cran-apple juice? I’d offer you some coffee, but there’s nothing here I’d serve my worst enemy.”
The sheriff managed a wan smile. “No, thanks. I only stopped by for a minute. Wanted to check on you. I can imagine how hard this day is going to be, and I just wanted to remind you that you’re not alone. I’m here if you need me.”
Numb, Sara nodded. “I appreciate it.”
But Jackson Norris wasn’t in any hurry to leave. He frowned.
“What is it, Sheriff? You’ve got a lead on my father? What’s on your mind?”
Jackson shook his head. “No. Nothing on your dad. It could be nothing, honestly, but…well, I thought you should know we’ve had another Oliver Bascombe sighting. If Ted’s disappearance really is connected to the Bascombe case, finding this guy could give us some answers.”
She forced herself not to hope.
“Where is he? Where did they find him?”
The sheriff couldn’t meet her eyes then. “Austria. I know it sounds crazy. First London, then Scotland, now Austria. He’s not technically a suspect in anything, just a ‘person of interest.’ They put a watch on all of his credit cards and got a bunch of hits on his American Express. Figured they had him on the hook then, had all the credit companies freeze his cards. Now that they knew where he was, they didn’t want him going anywhere else. Next time he tried to use his credit card, it didn’t go so well. Bascombe took off, apparently. But the clerk picked out a photo of him, so it wasn’t just some thief trying to use his card. It was the real deal.
“They’re going to track him down, Sara. Get some answers.”
For several moments she breathed in and out through her teeth, a sick twisting in her stomach making her fear she might throw up. With difficulty she nodded and thanked the sheriff for coming, for caring.
“You’ll let me know when they’ve got him?”
“Of course. The very moment,” he assured her.
Then he was gone. Sara stood in the open door and watched him pull out of the driveway and roll off down the street, tires slushing on the road. She stayed there for half a minute, until at last she retreated into her father’s house once more.
Seeking solace, Sara went to the radio again and turned it on. A pleasant version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” was in progress, harmonies lush and lilting.
At the sofa, she sat and held between two fingers the unopened card she’d written to her father. For a time she carried it around, setting it on the mantel or the lamp stand or on top of the television, somewhere he was likely to discover it in his wanderings around the house.
As if it were that large…as if he had just become lost in his own home.
So much remained unsaid between them and she desperately wished for a chance to fix that.
The phone rang, startling her, and she stared at it as though it were some exotic beast. Who would be calling her father’s house on Christmas day that did not already know he had disappeared?
The answering machine picked up the call and she stared across the room, mesmerized by the sound of her own father’s voice in the greeting message.
“You’ve reached the home of Ted Halliwell. Please leave a message.”
Simple as that. Uncomplicated. That was her father. Hearing his voice like that lent her a comfort she would never have imagined. When the beep came, her mother’s voice took over, leaving a message meant for her, exhorting her to pick up, to call her if there was any news.
As though she would have done anything else.
For now, though, she let her mother talk, let the answering machine deal with her. Ignoring her mother, Sara went to the couch and lay back on it, listening to Christmas carols and wondering.
Waiting.
The Perytons swept down from the sky, eleven strong. Jezi-Baba floated down the steps of the pyramid as though gliding on the wind, but the Manticore was faster. It raced down those high stone stairs practically sliding on its belly, hissing death through rows of needle teeth.
The open plain around the pyramid had become a killing field.
Cheval Bayard stood, paralyzed with uncertainty. The giant treelike men that had herded them into this clearing stood at the edge of the woods but did not come any further. The bloodred birds that had soared in circles around the top of the pyramid had settled down on its peak.
“Cheval!”
Flinching, she glanced over to see Chorti lumbering up beside her. The wild man gnashed his metal teeth and bared iron claws. It steeled her resolve, having him there. They had fought side by side against marauders and mercenaries-killers all-first to protect their lives and avenge her husband, and then to safeguard Chorti’s family home. Always they had prevailed. Scarred and bloody, they had stood at each other’s side.
“Fight!” he growled.
She shifted, her bones cracking and stretching as she cast off her human mask and transformed into the kelpy, long horse’s legs unfolding beneath her.
At the pyramid, the Manticore leaped the last half-dozen steps and tore across the clearing toward them. Jezi-Baba cackled and began to sway even as the blue-skinned hag floated in the air…then she shimmered like a ghost and vanished.
The Borderkind tightened into a battle circle, all of them with their backs to the center. She heard Frost and Blue Jay shout, and a blast of fire shot into the air. Li, the Guardian of Fire, had begun the war.
A green blur dashed from the sky. The Grindylow tried to bat it away, but the Peryton sank its claws into him. Grin shouted in pain as the thing carried him up into the sky, blood spattering the ground below. The Grindylow swore loudly, roared in pain, and beat at the Hunter, but then Cheval lost sight of them amidst the angry swarming of the Perytons.
Leicester Grindylow was gone.
Another Peryton dipped from the sky. Cheval launched a kick at it. Her hoof glanced off of its body with a crack of bone, but the Peryton kept flying, baring its long black talons. Its antlers hung heavily upon its head and the sharp prongs lowered.
Chorti thundered across the ground and leaped, barreling into the Hunter as it flew toward her. The Peryton and the wild man rolled in the grass and dirt. The Atlantean beat him with its wings, trying to gouge him with its antlers. Chorti’s metal claws flashed in the sunlight as he struck out, razors scoring antlers and flesh. One of the Hunter’s antlers snapped off and the taut skin of its head tore, gashed to the bone.
Then it shook Chorti off and leaped upward, wings carrying it skyward again.
The defensive circle had shattered. All around Cheval the Borderkind were at war, the Perytons screaming unintelligibly, green-feathered wings blotting out the sun.
As one, Cheval and Chorti moved together, eyes turned to the sky.
“Well done, my friend,” Cheval said.
She spared a glance at him and saw the smile that split his savage features, revealing those shining metal fangs. Proud of himself, pleased by her praise.
The Manticore struck from behind, careening into Chorti and driving him down. The impact drew a cry of pain from the wild man. One of his arms lay trapped beneath him and with the other he flailed behind him, trying to dislodge the weight of the Manticore. But the thing’s ferocious speed was too much.