Diana Tregarde - Burning Water Part 15

The last thing they did was painstakingly copy Athena's contact list into Di's notebook. Di wasn't figuring on getting a lot of information from the locals but maybe somebody would have noticed more than Athena and her circle had.

"Just the psychics " Di said then amended even that. "Just the real Talents. Not the ones who play at it. I don't care if they're flakes, but they've got to be in practice, or they won't be able to distinguish a power-drain from a pota.s.sium imbalance."

Athena had cracked a smile at that. "Well that first narrows you down to about a tenth of the neo- pagans in Dallas, and the second to half of that," she replied. "Maybe less. Amazing how easy it is to let the mental muscles go as flabby as the physical ones, isn't it?"

It was nearly eight when she put Athena and baggage into a cab, and headed back to the bus stop.

No solutions, but Well, I didn't get what I came for but I found what I needed.

She was thinking so hard about Len that she forgot to stay alert. The streets were very quiet, almost like Hartford; it lured her into a false sense of security. She didn't notice that she was being followed until it was too late to do anything about it.

It was the sound of several pairs of sneakered feet in her wake that finally woke her to danger.

She risked a glance over one shoulder, and saw a handful of young men, all in ornately decorated jackets, following about half a block behind her. They felt yes, they were after her. Predators.

Hunters. And a quick probe ahead told her that there were more of the same lying in wait around the corner.

Oh, s.h.i.t. No, don't run, that'll just set them off. Cross the street first, see what they do.

Half of them followed, the other half moved up to parallel her. She stumbled over broken concrete, cursed under her breath, and thought furiously.

Great, now I'm cut off in all directions. Okay, confrontation time; that's not what they're expecting, it'll buy me delay.

She stopped dead where she was, and whirled to put her back against the wall. Broken gla.s.s and trash scrunched under her feet; the brick was rough under her hands. They stopped, and milled uncertainly for a moment. She used the time to think.

Okay, no gun. I'm no karate champ; I can't take out all of them. Any help around?

She risked a glance up and down the street. It was deserted in both directions, not even a stray car in sight. And the streetlight nearest her was out.

Ain't n.o.body likely to even look out to see why the yelling's going on if I start raising cain. Oh h.e.l.l.

That leaves just one option. Now are they sensitive enough, or hopped up enough to be sensitive?

She dropped shields and touched at the surfaces of their minds. It was like touching rotting wood and cobwebs. No doubt about it, they'd been doing something. That was in her favor.

Gah. They're sensitive enough. Here goes nothing. Boy, I am going to regret this in a half an hour She gathered the power within as they regained their gang unity and began to move in on her from both sides, laughing and spitting obscenities at her. She waited, feet slightly apart, arms down at her sides, and hands clenched, until they were just about to rush her the moment that they were most off-balance.

Then she struck, grateful that there were no witnesses.

It was a two-p.r.o.nged attack; she flouresced her aura in the visible range, bright as a photo-flash, and followed that by psi-bolts to the minds nearest her.

Three of those she hit grabbed their heads and collapsed, moaning. Those of the rest that had been looking straight at her yelled in surprise, temporarily blinded.

She cleared the path for escape with a couple of handstrikes and a kick to those disabled, and ran Behind her she could hear commotion, but it didn't sound like anyone was going to follow immediately.

Oh G.o.ds, don't let me fade out now!

She ran as fast as she could manage, her breath rasping in her throat, her feet uncertain in the half- dark on the street; her side hurt already, drained as she was by the energy expenditure. It was three blocks to the haven of the bus stop.

She stumbled, recovered, stumbled again. Two blocks she could see it up ahead, brightly lit, with three or four people waiting wearily for the last bus of the evening. And they looked like cleaning ladies, gas-station attendants, not crazies.

Thank you, Lord and Lady.

One block; was there pursuit yet? She touched back not yet, but they were thinking about it. But she was almost out of breath, lungs and side on fire. She had to take a break she let herself slow, her sneakers making slapping sounds on the pavement.

She staggered the last few steps, reaching for the side of the bus-stop shelter blindly, and sagged against the stanchion. She was well into the lighted area, but totally winded, panting like an exhausted hound.

The four yes, four other would -be pa.s.sengers looked at her curiously, but said nothing.

Just don't let those punks get their courage up and follow, please A hand touched her arm; she yelped and jumped away, ready to defend herself.

And felt like a real fool, staring into Mark's disapproving eyes.

"Now that you're finished proving you can do without me, you want a lift home?" he asked quietly.

She blushed, knowing she'd been an idiot this time. But she couldn't say anything; just nodded, and followed him docilely to where his Ghia was parked down the block.

"You could have gotten yourself in big trouble, and not just from the you-know," he said angrily when they were out of earshot of the bus stop. "This is not a neighborhood to be wandering around in alone at night. You could have asked you could have told me where you were going. I found out from Aunt Nita that you were gone, and I had to call up that voudoun guy and get the address out of him.

And it wasn't easy. He made me go meet him in person so he could check out my vibes first."

"Mark, I admit it. Mea culpa; screwed up " she said, exhaustion making her voice dull and lifeless.

"Honest, I'm sorry. I won't do it again." The Ghia was within a few steps; she'd never been so happy to see a car in her life.

He snorted, then unlocked the car door and held it open for her. She literally fell into the front seat.

He climbed in on his side, and took a good look at her. "What in h.e.l.l have you been doing, running the marathon?"

"Almost," she managed. The inevitable reaction to using that much power without preparation or proper channeling was setting in. She did not want to move, think, or talk much.

"I think I'll take you home, and leave the lecture for tomorrow," he said abruptly, turning the ignition key.

She felt the psi-bolt backlash headache beginning to start, just behind the middle of her forehead, and figured he might just have saved his own skin with that statement....

Bridger was heading back to his camp under the bridge in a sour mood. Panhandling had been none too good today; he'd be sleeping with an empty belly if he hadn't found that half pizza in the trash. As it was, it wasn't gonna be easy to get to sleep; his teeth hurt and the pepper on the pizza was still burning down in his guts. The sunset was glorious; he couldn't appreciate it.

No money, no booze, he grumbled to himself. No jobs, either. He'd take a job if he could find one, not like some of the other b.u.ms out here. He only drank enough to keep his teeth from hurting so d.a.m.n much. If he could get 'em fixed, he wouldn't drink at all.

No work for a roughneck, 'specially one that can't read but his name, he gloomed. Maybe I oughta take them Bible-thumpers up on that offer....

He considered it, then shook his head. Naw. Can't stomach listenin' to 'em preach at me every other minute. I'll go get mad, an' maybe sock one of 'em, an' be out on the street again.

He sighed, longing for the smell of petroleum and dust and sweat that was the oilfields at full production. Never thought I'd miss that in a zillion years.

He trudged on, feeling the rocks through his thin bootsoles, so lost in melancholy recollection interrupted from time to time by his aching teeth that when he saw Jimbo and Billie waiting for him by the bridge in the blue half-light of dusk he half thought he was still daydreaming.

He only realized that he wasn't when they spotted him, gave a whoop, and rushed him.

Seeing his two old buddies was enough to make him forget his teeth hurt. They cussed, and pounded on each other, and carried on like lunatics for a good five minutes before he got calmed down enough to talk sensible to them.

"You jerks, you lookin' good I never reckoned I'd'a missed you b.u.ms " He suddenly remembered why they weren't supposed to be in town. "Hey, I thought you boys had a job "

Billie shook his head, his hair flopping down into his eyes the way it always did. "Didn't pan out; some wildcatter, I guess. Went bankrupt about the time we hit the site. They gave us 'nough bus money t' get back here, an' that was it."

"Well, s.h.i.t."

"Big ten-four," Jimbo agreed, scratching a two-day beard.

"Hey, I ain't got but a mattress but "

"No man, that's what we came lookin' fer you for," Billie interrupted. "Hey, you et?"

"Could stand some more, iffen y'all got it."

"Lissen you got anythin' back there in that hole you want?" Jimbo asked suddenly.

Bridger thought, and shook his head. "Naw. Anythin' any good got stole a long time ago."

Billie was wearing a backpack that Bridger didn't remember. He pulled it off and rummaged in it.

"Here, when the chick gave us eatin' money, she tol' us t' get what we wanted, and I thought I'd pick up somethin' fer you " He held out a cheap plastic thermos -cup, the kind they gave away in convenience stores, and a slightly squashed hoagie. "Triple cream in th' coffee, an' turkey an' mayo. You an yer touchy gut, gah. Do I ferget my friends, or what?"

"Oh man " Bridger did not s.n.a.t.c.h at the sandwich, but he did bolt it and the lukewarm coffee so fast the others had hardly time to grin. " Billie, you are a h.e.l.luva buddie, that's all I gotta say," he managed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Already the mild sandwich and the cream in the coffee were calming the storm in his gut. "Now what chick? You find a soft touch, or a bleedin' heart or what? Hey, you lookin' to be Midnight Cowboys or somethin'?"

Jimbo grinned. "Shee-it, no. Ugly suckers like us? Gimme a break. Naw, we hit somethin' better'n that; we got us three real live jobs."

Bridger snorted. "Pull th' other one."

"No s.h.i.t," Billie insisted. "We was sittin' at the bus stop, tryin' t' figger if we got 'nough to pick up a burger or if we gonna have t' hit the Bible-pushers. 'Long comes this car; fancy one, man, a Caddy.

Chick drivin'; stops, pulls over, asks us if we're roughnecks."

"We said yeah," Jimbo took up the story. "She says, 'You wanta try drillin' fer water steada oil?

Boss's lookin' fer men useta bein' on rigs.'"

"Well, we figgered, sure. But she give us a card, said t' meet her over by White Rock Lake Park t'night 'f we're innerested," Billie continued. "She give us some eatin' an' bus money, an' that's when we thought, hey, maybe this's okay, y'know? Like, she just gave us the bread. She weren't wearing no fancy suit, but she weren't wearin' no bluejeans, neither. Looked like some gal might work outa an office."

"She said no more'n three," Jimbo finished. "That's us an' you, we figgered. An' we looked th' card up in th' phone book. It's real, man. Real comp'ny, real rigs."

Bridger just stared. "I "

"Yeah, no s.h.i.t, feel th' same," Billie nodded. "Look, it ain't that far, last bus's due, what say we head out? Nothin' else, we c'n maybe sleep in th' park, and we et "

Bridger laughed. A job! A real, live job! "Sure, why the h.e.l.l not! Maybe our luck's finally changed!"* * *

"I am not taking you back to Aunt Nita in the shape you're in now," Mark said, trying to keep one eye on Di and the other on his driving. "She'll have my hide!"

"I'll be all right in a bit," Di mumbled, sunk in the seat next to him, with both hands over her eyes. "I just need a few minutes to rest."

"Looks to me like you need more than a few minutes " he dodged a car running a red light, and swore at the driver under his breath. Dallas traffic gets more like a demolition derby every day. "I'm gonna take you home with me whether you like it or not we'll see if some sugar, protein, and aspirin can't straighten you out, huh?"

"Bananas," she replied from behind her hands.

"Is that a commentary or a request?"

"Request." Sounded like her words were coming through a strainer. "And Gatorade."

Supermarket supermarket where do I find a supermarket around here ah! He spotted a lit sign and changed lanes so fast he probably left swearing drivers in his wake. He pulled into a vacant slot; fortunately it was too late for there to be much in the way of customer traffic. He had his booty and was back in the car so fast that Di nearly socked him one, evidently thinking he was a stranger.

"Jeez, some grat.i.tude!" he complained, handing her the paper sack.

"Sorry." She rummaged in the bag at once, the paper popping and crackling, before he even had the car started. She emerged with the bottle and pried the top off like a wino with the shakes and a new bottle of Thunder-bird.

He stared in awe as she downed nearly half the bottle before pausing for a breath.

"Good G.o.d, how can you drink that stuff straight? Yech! There's aspirin in there too."

"Don't ask." Without another word she finished the bottle, using the last gulp to wash down a couple of aspirin.

She sank back into the seat with a sigh, some of the pinched look gone from her face; put the empty bottle on the floorboards, and fished out the bananas.

"Monkey food?" she offered, handing him one.

"Don't mind if I do," he replied, accepting it. "Now, you mind telling me what happened out there?"

"I was stupid. I mean really stupid. I put myself in a situation where I had to use real live magic to get away and I wasn't ready for it. Then to add insult to injury, I sprinted three blocks. Blew my electrolyte balance all to h.e.l.l. Gave myself an instant morning-after without a night-before."

"Huh?" Mark replied, a little baffled.

"TANSTAAFL, my friend. 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.' Magical energy has to come from somewhere, just like physical energy. Guess I never told you that, huh? Well, I didn't have the right gear with me for self-defense against normals, only against paranormals. And if I'd been thinking I would have taken that gun with me, and taken the chance on Athena spooking. It's only the fact that I'm used to shooting from the hip that gave me anything to use in self-defense. So I squeaked out, but I paid for it. Give me an hour and a couple more bananas, I'll be okay. And I am not going to do that again."

He shook his head. "I hope the trip was worth the cost of the ticket."

"Hm. Well, it was worth it to me, personally, but not to the case no, I lie. This contact was entrenched well enough in the neo-pagan community that she'd have known if our group was in that net and they aren't. She couldn't identify them either."

"You said," Mark reminded her, "That we might have to go at this by process of elimination."

"I did. Okay, so tomorrow we go cruising. We're going to be talking to some more folks like my contact, more of the sensitives in the neo-pagan network; and while we're at it, we're going to be looking for two things "

"Shoot."

"One we'll be checking the Middle Eastern enclaves for 'protections' amulets in windows, designs painted on alley walls, that kind of thing. If it's coming from there, the folks of those nationalities will know about it, and be actively warding against it. Like a Kali cult neither devout Hindus nor Sihks are real fond of the cults that distorted the worship of Kali. These folks might not be willing to talk, but I'll know what to look for."

"And number two?"