More of the Ellyllon turned to look. None of them moved a step closer.
Doc got out, opened Cloud's door. He couldn't get a pulse, but there was a faint trembling of the colorless lips. Doc pulled at his arm; Cloud fell on him, knocking him on his butt. Doc braced his feet against the car and pulled. He felt bone grate, and his heart flipped, but what was a little more damage now. a piss in the ocean: five yards awav was the deep water of healing, if only thev could crawl the distance.
He tried to lift Cloudhunter. Fresh blood welled up in the elPs chest, and he groaned aloud. The sound cut like a torch into Doc's brain, and his knees gave way; for a moment he was insensible, blind with tears.
Through water he saw one of the elves, watching them, hands pressed to his (or her or its) ears. Was it shock? Was it anything?
"Help me," Doc said, from his knees. "Please."
Nothing.
"Piss on you all," he said.
He tugged the Nancy scarf from his neck, got it under Cloud's arms and began to drag him. A dozen feet to go. Ten. Eight. He didn't know what would happen when he hit the barrier: would he just slam into it, bounce off, burn up, die? He would have to get behind, push A clear, sweet elven voice said, "How earnestly he doth shift the thankless burden. A thing almost noble 'tis, to bear a stone unfreighted of itself."
"You're lying," Doc said out loud, "You're lying, you want me to give up," but he looked into Cloudhunter's face and knew it was so; meat, that was all, elf meat.
He heaved one awful sob, and then stopped, because enough rage makes anything possible. He stumbled back to the car. Behind him, the elves began to move toward the body.
Doc brought up Cloud's sawed-off shotgun. "Get AWAY from him!" The elves stopped. He didn't know if the gun would fire, here, just on Division; he was ready and willing to find out. The Truebloods all drew back.
He got out the kit, carried it and the gun to Cloud's side. This was going to take a while. He hoped the elves hung around to watch. He hoped some of them got sick all over themselves.
An hour later, Doc threw what was his into the TR3's backseat, got in and slammed the door. The last thing he said to them, as he threw the car in gear, was "Okay, I'm a fool. And you know what you are."
Uoc took the elevator up to Patrise's office. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his coat, which had long thin streaks of Cloud hunter's blood across it. He was stained with dirt and snow. His fingers tightened and relaxed, bunching the cloth.
He knocked and entered. Patrise was standing in front of his desk, looking at a poster on the wall. It was a network of colored lines, the rapid-transit system of the city long before there was World and Shade.
"Hallow," Patrise said.
"I lost Cloud."
Patrise nodded once, slowly. He turned to face Doc, held out a hand, palm up.
Doc took a folded, bloody gauze pad from his pocket. Inside were the pellets and slugs he had dug from Cloudhunter's body, as he had taken so much lead from so many dead Ellyllon before this.
He had thought he would throw it on Patrise's desk, as… what? A statement? A demand? For what? Instead he just put it gently in the outstretched hand. Mr. Patrise's fingers closed on it, tightly.
"Was Cloudhunter taken through the gateway?" Patrise said.
"Yeah. After it didn't matter."
"It matters a great deal, Hallow."
"To who? Them?"
"Yes. This is a matter of what they believe, not what we want. I told you about that, about iron and faith. There is more to come of this, you may trust. Now, I believe Ginevra is waiting in your rooms." He turned, took a step toward the inner apartments.
Doc said, "About the bullets-"
"Another time, Hallow. I am selfish with my grief, and will not share it."
Doc lowered his head, turned toward the door. He stopped. "Did you get Whisper?"
Mr. Patrise paused. "No. As I say, there is more to come of this."
Doc went down to his apartment. Ginny was in the living room, asleep in a chair. She still wore her red satin dress; her shoes and stockings were placed neatly on the floor, her feet tucked up beneath her as she always sat. A book was open in her lap.
She had uncurled her hair, and it spilled down one cheek. He reached to touch it, then realized what he looked like, bloody and ragged, a nightmare for her to wake to. Moving as softly as he could, he hid the coat in the closet, went into the bathroom to strip and shower.
When he came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, Ginny was sitting on his bed, leaning against one of the bedposts. "Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"Boris let me in. You don't mind?"
"No, I don't mind."
"I like your place." She giggled. "It's big."
"I should have brought you here before."
She rubbed one foot against the other. "My legs went to sleep out there." She tilted her head. "Think I need treatment?"
He stepped behind her, found the zipper on her dress. She raised her hands to let him take it off. He touched the velvet band, close around her neck, and she purred.
"My God, it's dawn," she said, looking at the windows. "You were gone a long time."
"Yeah," he said, and then his throat closed up. He reached into his piled clothes, took out the blue Nancy scarf, wound it between his hands.
"That's Cloudhunter's," Ginny said. "He gave it to-" She pulled in a breath. "Oh, God, Doc, not Cloudhunter."
"We all fought it. Katie and-that's what I'm supposed to do." He was crying. It didn't matter. The toughest guys on the fire squad cried for this. You got handed somebody's life, and you held on to it with everything you had, and sometimes it still got away from you. If you didn't feel something then-"I'm not very good company right now. If you want to go…" he said, and let it trail off, not at all sure what answer he wanted.
"Where would I go?" she said plainly. "I love you. I've known it for… well, I know, okay? I've been scared to say it, because I didn't know what you'd do." She shuffled a foot. "Do you still want me to go?"
"I didn't. I just-"
"Then come here," she said, and held out her hands. He looked at her wrists, and the silk taut between his white-knuckled hands, and thought that it was good he was already crying. He unwound the scarf, folded it, put it carefully aside.
He needed to hold her so badly it hurt. And he needed to be in control. But if he said what was coiling up in his mind, and she pulled away-there weren't words for how bad that would be. There weren't even thoughts for it. And you fought the bad thing, right? Until you had nothing left to fight with. Like with any other life you were given.
So he just sat down heavily on the bed, and let her hold him, until the room blurred and faded into sleep.
When he woke, there was a note on the bedroom mirror: "I didn't want to wake you. If you want, I won't wake you New Year's Day either." meeting a Highborn. The one that concerns you most is this: don't speak unless I tell you that you may. Do not answer even if you are addressed directly. I'm sure that sounds arrogant, and I assure you it is."
"Is there anything else I shouldn't do?"
"Countless things," Mr. Patrise said dryly. "I would advise you not to look into the Urthas's eyes. You may find that difficult, and there isn't likely to be any real danger, but… If in doubt, look at the floor somewhere in front of our host."
They parked at a colonnaded building right on the lakefront, near the natural history museum.
"Are you fond of the Field, Hallow?" Mr. Patrise said.
Doc realized he had been staring at the museum. "I only went there once. With Cloud."
"Yes. I should have remembered that. This way, Hallow. Please."
Carved letters above the building entrance read JOHN G. SHEDD AQUARIUM. A pair of Ellyllon in green armor flanked the door.