Dancing on the Wind (37 page)

beside Breslin.

“What the hell is going on here?” Breslin whispered urgently.

“I don’t know,” Fallon said.

Before Keenan laid her hands to the kneeling person’s brow, she turned to face

Bolivar and in a clear, carrying voice that brooked no objection said, “You have worked

long and hard for our Lord, Mother. It is time you rested. I will take your burden now.”

Without so much as a flicker of protest, Bolivar smiled knowingly, turned and

walked to her chair, sat down with her hands folded primly in her lap.

One by one the faithful came to kneel at Keenan’s feet. Though she wavered from

time to time and seemed to be weakening, she would rally with each new ailment laid

before her and gently lay her hands to the heads of the seekers. Whether her touch

cured them, no one could tell for there were no more pilgrims with brilliant rashes or

limp arms. Those who came to her left with beaming faces and tears streaking their

faces, but they did not shout their healing or make a spectacle of themselves before the

crowd.

Fallon looked about him and marveled at the stillness, the silence that had fallen

upon the crowd. It was unnerving, eerie, and the faces staring up at Keenan were filled

with adulation.

“I don’t like this,” Breslin said at one point. “Not one goddamn bit. Look at them!

They’re eating this shit up!”

“She’s healing them,” Matty said quietly. “By all that is holy, that’s what she’s

doing.”

“Bullshit,” Breslin snapped. “They just think she is.”

But Fallon knew better and he knew Bolivar and her people knew it too. This was

no con job being pulled here. This was the real thing.

At last the final faithful came forward—being rolled in a wheelchair—and as the

helpers struggled to push the wheelchair onto the stage, Keenan shook her head.

“I will come to him,” she said, and moved toward the step.

It was Roland who rushed forward and took her hand to help her down the steps,

and it was Roland who stood at her side with something akin to reverence on his craggy

features.

“How long have you been afflicted this way, my friend?” Keenan asked, squatting

down before the wheelchair-bound man.

“Since I was a boy,” the man replied. “I haven’t walked since grade school, Sister

Tandy.”

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“If you believe in the power of God, I promise you that you will walk this night,”

Keenan said, and there was a gasp that ran like wildfire through the crowd.

“Goddamn it!” Breslin hissed. “She shouldn’t make claims like that. This crowd will

chew her up and spit her out when that bastard doesn’t get up and do a jig!”

“I believe,” Fallon heard the man say in a breaking voice. “I do believe.”

Keenan rose to her feet and held her hands out to the man. “Then take my hands.”

Reaching out for her, the man threaded his fingers through Keenan’s and she

stepped back, pulling him to his feet.

Every breath was held. Every heart ceased to beat. Not one person dared to blink.

All attention was directed on the man who was being levered to a standing position.

“Give yourself to the Lord and He will make you whole again,” Keenan said softly.

“Do you give yourself to the Lord?”

“I do,” the man said. He was wobbling but he was standing.

Keenan unlocked her fingers from his and took another step back. “Then come to

me, my friend.”

Fallon felt Matty’s hand on his arm but didn’t look around. His attention was glued

on Keenan whose face was shining with an unearthly light and whose hazel eyes were

glowing.

“What did you do to her, Coim?” he whispered. “What did you do?”

“Come to me,” Keenan repeated.

The man wavered, his arms out in front of him, but then he lifted his right foot and

took a single step.

“No,” Matty denied. “This isn’t happening.”

One step more.

“Praise the Lord,” Roland said as he stepped closer to the man lest he should fall.

A third step before the man lifted his head and looked directly into Keenan’s eyes.

“I can walk,” he said. “I can walk!”

And the crowd erupted into pandemonium as people surged forward. It was plain

they wanted to touch the woman who had wrought this miracle, but Roland moved in

front of her, motioning frantically for the bodyguards to block the onrushing crowd.

“We’ve got to get her out of here!” Breslin shouted. He vaulted onto the stage and

ran toward Keenan, reaching down to shove his hands under her arms and lift her onto

the stage.

Fallon shoved Matty ahead of him, bellowing for Matty to help Breslin get Keenan

out of harm’s way. All around him people were stampeding to get to her, the noise so

thunderous he wasn’t sure if Matty had heard or not. Chairs were knocked over. The

tent shuddered as people slammed into the tent poles. Everywhere was sheer chaos and

Fallon had to shove the faithful aside as he struggled to get to Keenan.

“This can’t be happening,” Matty told Breslin. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Something is inciting the crowd,” Breslin snapped. His arm was around Keenan

and he was practically carrying her on his hip as Roland and Matty ran interference for

him.

Fallon was thinking the same thing, and as he scrambled to get onto the stage, he

felt a shiver run down his back and looked around, seeking the source. He half expected

to see some monstrous shape looming out of the crowd, but he saw nothing and no one

who looked as though they were a threat. But the sensation of being watched remained

even as he got to his feet on the stage and ran after Breslin and Matty.

“Through there!” Roland said, pointing to a flap in the back of the tent. He hopped

down and held his hand up for Keenan.

Breslin didn’t hesitate but swept Keenan up into his arms then dropped her into the

gypsy’s. He and Matty jumped off the stage, followed closely by Fallon as Matty ran to

hold the tent flap aside.

Running with Keenan cradled against him, Roland made straight for his own

trailer, yelling for one of the workers to open the door. He barely decreased his speed as

he bolted up the steps and inside with Matty, Breslin and Fallon close on his heels.

“Lock the door!”

Keenan seemed dazed as the Rom carried her to the sofa and set her down. She put

a hand to her temple, touched her ear and then brought her hand around to look down

at the red stain on her fingers. She looked up as Fallon hurried over to her.

“I’m bleeding,” she said.

“I’ll get a cloth,” Roland said to no one in particular.

Fallon hunkered down in front of her and took her free hand. “Are you all right,

lhiannan
?” he asked softly.

“Watch your mouth!” Breslin hissed at the endearment.

“I think so,” Keenan said. “What happened?”

“You don’t know?” Matty inquired. All three men were hovering around her as

Roland came back from wetting a washcloth.

“I remember Bolivar introducing me,” she said as she put the wet cloth to her ear. “I

seem to recall someone saying he could hear, but I don’t remember anything after that.”

Matty and Breslin exchanged a look.

“You don’t remember the man with the rash?” Fallon asked.

“Or the man in the wheelchair?”

Keenan shook her head. “It’s all a blank.”

“Which is probably a good thing,
Bhen
,” Roland said, calling her Sister.

Looking up at Matty, Keenan searched his worried gaze. “Did I heal someone?”

“Yeah,” Matty said. “Several someones.”

Keenan’s brows drew together. “I don’t remember anything.”

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Dancing on the Wind

There was a pounding on the door and Roland cursed, yelling for whoever it was to

go away.

“It’s me, Mizhak,” Bolivar said.

Breslin turned to let her in and she did so quickly, the sound of shouting voices

drowning out whatever words she said to him. She came straight to Keenan.

“Are you all right, Tandy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Keenan said, “but I’ve got a terrible headache.”

“She needs to lie down,” Bolivar said. “Out. All of you. I’ll stay with her.” She

nudged Fallon with her knee. “Get up, Robbie.”

Fallon ground his teeth but stood. Once again he tried to slip into Bolivar’s mind

but found it firmly barred. A glance at Roland revealed no expression on the Rom’s face

or on Breslin’s for that matter, but Fallon knew one or the other of them had shut him

out. Having no choice but to do as Bolivar ordered, he followed the others out into the

oppressively hot August night.

“All right, who the hell did it?” Roland snarled.

“Did what?” Breslin asked.

“Both of you have the power,” Roland accused in a low, hissing tone. “I know this.

Which one of you worked that crowd into a frenzy tonight?” He was staring savagely at

Breslin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Breslin told him.

Roland whipped his head toward Fallon.

“It wasn’t me,” Fallon said.

“I know what you are,” Roland said, eyes narrowed. “You can hide from the

authorities, but you can not hide what you are from a Rom!”

“What’s he talking about?” Breslin questioned.

“You could have gotten her killed tonight,” Roland shouted at Breslin. “Don’t you

realize that?”

“It wasn’t me,” Breslin shot back. “Why would I do something to hurt her?”

“You beat her,” Roland said. “I know this too. You thought to stir up the crowd so

there would be an even bigger draw the next time, more money taken in!”

“Bullshit,” Breslin said. “I didn’t do any such thing.”

“Whichever one of you did this, you had best be glad no harm came to the little one

tonight. Had she been hurt, I would respond in kind to the one who caused that hurt!”

Roland warned.

“I don’t think Nate would have been foolish enough to do something like this,”

Matty said. “Tandy is his meal ticket, Mizhak. You’d better look elsewhere for the

culprit.”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Roland shifted his angry glower to Fallon. “I am watching you,” he growled. “Stay

away from the little one. Don’t think I don’t know what you tried to do. I stopped you

then and I will stop you again.”

“What’s he talking about?” Breslin asked, bristling. “What did you try to do,

Marks?”

“This is between him and me,” Roland snapped.

Fallon didn’t think Roland had any idea that a pathway had been opened into his

mind and he slipped into the Rom’s mind, did a quick reconnaissance, reassured by

what he found. There was no hint Roland knew about Fallon’s association with the

Exchange or his real reason for being with the revival. The only thoughts in his head

regarding Keenan were an overwhelming desire to protect her and a growing

admiration for her abilities. Matty was being accepted as a bumbling fool, the gypsy

liked Breslin and had bought the agent’s story. As for Fallon, the gypsy hated him—but

for deeper, more complex reasons Fallon could not pry from the Rom’s mind.

“Go help the men disperse the crowd,” Roland ordered. “They need all the help

they can get.”

“Let the police do it,” Breslin snapped.

“You do as I say!” Roland bellowed. “You work for Mother Bolivar and you will do

as I say!”

For a moment it seemed Breslin would draw back his fist and hit the gypsy, but

with a nasty curse, he spun on his heel and stalked off.

“You too,” Roland told Matty and Fallon.

Matty took Fallon’s arm and they started toward the crowd that was milling about

the back lot, trying to get through the security men and to the trailer where Keenan was.

“If Breslin didn’t do it and you and I didn’t do it, that only leaves Roland,” Matty

said softly.

“Or Bolivar,” Fallon stated.

Matty stopped walking and put out a hand to stay Fallon. “You think she has psi

powers?”

“I didn’t think so, but I don’t believe it was Roland. Who else stood to gain from

Sister Tandy being overrun by an out-of-control mob?” Fallon asked him.

“What’s going on here, Misha?” Matty queried.

“I don’t know, but I damned sure intend to find out!”

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Worried about Keenan all night, Fallon didn’t sleep, so by the morning he was

irritable, had a brutal headache and an upset stomach to boot. The tenerse seemed to

hurt more than usual and the Sustenance did little to calm the hunger building within

him.

He had been at the opened door to his trailer when he saw Keenan leaving Roland’s

trailer not long after dawn. Beside her had been Bolivar. Where the gypsy had spent the

night he neither knew nor cared. Keenan had gone into her trailer without a glance his

way, Bolivar into hers, so Fallon had made a beeline to his boss’s motor home, entering

without knocking.

“What do you want, Robbie?” Bolivar asked. “I’m in no mood to soothe your

wounded male pride.”

“Are you going to put her on display again today?” he asked without preamble.

“If I don’t, the crowd will riot. Unless I miss my guess, ticket sales will skyrocket all

through the day.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this could be for her?” he challenged.

“You’ll protect her,” she replied. Her gaze swept down him. “Roland will see to it.”

Fallon felt another chill gouging at his spine, but before he could question her