The Adept Book 2 The Lodge Of The Lynx (45 page)

The Toyota leaped forward, slewing and fish-tailing until McLeod kicked in the four-wheel drive. Twilight was deepening, but he dared not turn on the headlights for fear of revealing their position, if they were being pursued. Adam had pulled off his gloves and was holding onto the grab bar with his left hand, eyes closed and head bowed against the back of his right. At first Peregrine thought he was just concentrating on catching his breath after their wild sprint, but then he realized that the odd position of Adam’s right hand was so that he could press the stone of his ring against his forehead.

“Adam?” he dared to whisper, as the car continued to jounce and skid.

“Leave him be!” McLeod snapped, muttering as he had to brake for another curve.

“But, what’s he doing?”

“Protecting us. Try to do the same.”

“But, how—”

“I told you before—try to keep your mind a blank!”

The order brooked no further discussion or question. Suitably subdued, Peregrine sat back and tried to do as he was told, doing his best to hold the image in his mind of a blank canvas awaiting his brush. It was difficult, because he kept wanting to paint on it, and some of the images that came to mind were not pleasant—which probably was precisely why he was supposed to keep his mind a blank.

Somewhere about the time McLeod got the car back on pavement again and could pick up speed, Peregrine had about gotten the knack of it; and by the time they were merging back onto the A9 and speeding south again, he had almost started to doze off.

“We’re all right now,” Adam said suddenly, when they had passed the turn-off to Kingussie and Newtonmore and were speeding southward into the Grampians again. “Noel, I think it’s safe to pull off at the next lay-by for a few minutes. Peregrine, you’ll find some sandwiches and tea in that hamper behind the seat you’re sitting in.”

The sigh of relief from McLeod’s direction suggested to Peregrine that perhaps their escape had not been as foregone a conclusion as first thought. He kept his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut as he manhandled the hamper forward and set it on the seat beside him, starting to rummage inside and see what Humphrey had packed for them. After a few more minutes, the desired lay-by came up and McLeod slowed and pulled the Toyota to a halt. The snow seemed to have stopped, and when McLeod had switched off the ignition, he pulled off his glasses and tossed them on the dash as he breathed an enormous sigh.

“Well, that was a near-run thing,” he said. “Hand me a sandwich, would you, Peregrine? Breakfast gave out several hours ago, and I’m about to perish for want of food.”

Wide-eyed, Peregrine put a sandwich in the hand that reached back over McLeod’s shoulder, handing another forward to Adam. As the two started eating, Peregrine attacked his own, dying to hear more but determined not to ask. McLeod’s hands were shaking as he ate, and when Peregrine noticed, he passed Adam one of the thermos flasks, saying, “You want to get some hot tea in him?”

Murmuring his thanks, Adam filled a cup and set it in McLeod’s hands. When the inspector had downed half of it, sitting back then to lean his head against the rest and cradle the cup between his hands, eyes closed, Adam half-turned in his seat to glance at Peregrine.

“All right. Before I comment on what’s just happened, suppose you tell me what you saw.”

Peregrine shook his head. He’d been trying to decide just what he
had
seen for the last hour and more, the whole time they were coming down from the Cairngorms.

“I really don’t know, Adam. It was powerful, but it wasn’t like the stuff connected with the Lynx that I’ve always seen before. This was different—even more malevolent, if you can imagine that. I’m going to have to think about it. I couldn’t even begin to try to draw it yet.”

“Noel?” Adam said.

McLeod tossed back the rest of his tea and put his glasses back on, apparently somewhat recovered.

“He’s right,” he said. “There’s something more at work here besides the Lynx—something big enough that
I
don’t want to tangle with it until we have a whole lot better idea what we’re up against. Oh, the Lynx is involved, but this—this is heavy-duty stuff. It may be where the human sacrifice angle is coming in. The Lynx were never particularly oriented that way before.”

“I agree,” Adam said. “I couldn’t even begin to speculate. Well done, both of you.” He glanced at the clock on the dash. “But we’d better get going, for now. Noel, would you like Peregrine to drive the rest of the way in? You look like you’re pretty well knackered.”

“What about it, Peregrine, old son?” McLeod replied, wearily tilting his head back in Peregrine’s direction. “Think you can take this bus in from here?”

“Of course,” Peregrine replied. The easy camaraderie reassured him that he really
was
a full-fledged member of the team. He changed places with McLeod and buckled up, adjusting the mirrors and seat angle to suit him, but the inspector was snoring softly before Peregrine even pulled back into traffic. Out of deference to McLeod’s obvious need for sleep, Peregrine kept silent for the rest of the drive back. He wondered whether Adam was dozing as well, but every time he glanced aside where there was light enough to see, Adam was always gazing distractedly through the windscreen, arms folded on his chest.

They got to McLeod’s house just after eight and dropped him off, but as they headed back across the Forth Road Bridge toward home, Adam bestirred himself to direct Peregrine toward a turn-off just on the other side, which led eventually to a scenic panorama looking back across the Firth. Snow had started falling again, and the distant lights of Edinburgh twinkled like diamonds strung along the black velvet of the distant shore.

“What is it?” Peregrine asked, when he had turned off the engine. “Why did you want to stop here?”

Sighing. Adam gazed out across the twinkling darkness, leaning his head against the seat back.

“It’s Solstice Eve,” he said quietly, “almost the turning of the year. I make it a habit to come up here every year about this time, to remind myself what it’s all about, what it’s all in aid of what we do.”

Frowning slightly, Peregrine looked out across the Firth.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Don’t you?” He drew a soft breath and let it out slowly.

“Listen to the silence, Peregrine.
Feel
it. The whole world is in darkness, holding its breath in expectation.
‘When all the world was in still silence and night was in the midst of her swift course, Thine almighty Word, O Lord, leaped down from heaven out of the Royal Throne . . .’
”

“Oh, you mean Christmas,” Peregrine said.

Adam smiled. “Not exactly. Or only in part, I suppose would be a better answer. Out beyond the physical lights of that city we guard, there’s the glow of a different kind of Light, like a vast umbrella of pure white energy that’s part of a vaster canopy that covers the entire planet. Its source is in the hearts of men and women of good will who, especially at this time of year, are turning their thoughts and prayers toward the coming of the Light. They belong to many races and creeds, but all of them, in all their myriad ways, are reaching toward a closer communion with that Light, regardless of the external form their acknowledgement takes. There are some lines by T.S. Eliot that say it very well. I think he understood. He may even have been one of us. He said:

‘O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!

Too bright for mortal vision . . .

We thank Thee for the lights that we have kindled,

the light of altar and of sanctuary;

small lights of those who meditate at midnight

and lights directed through the coloured panes of windows

and light reflected from the polished stone,

the gilded carven wood, the coloured fresco.

Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward

and see the light that fractures through unquiet water.

We see the light but see not whence it comes.

O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!’”

As his voice trailed off, Peregrine was staring at him avidly.

“I could paint that,” he whispered. “I saw the entire canvas as you said it. What’s the name of the poem?”

“It’s called
Choruses from The Rock
,’’ Adam replied. “What’s most important, though, is that at this time of year, all over this planet, literally millions of human beings are preparing to acknowledge the return of the Light. The rebirth of the Sun is a far more ancient and potent symbol than the commercial observances you’ll see taking place in a few days, on a day called Christmas—which is an arbitrary date anyway, since no one really knows when the man who was to become the Christ was born.”

Peregrine smiled. “That sounds almost cynical, coming from a Christian. I thought you were devout.”

“Oh, I am. And in this time and place, and in this life, I choose to frame my service to the Most High in the outward form of Christianity. It provides one of the more powerful sets of symbols for what’s about to happen. How did Paulinus of Nola put it? Let’s see if I can remember a decent translation. Ah, yes.

“‘For it is after the solstice, when Christ born in the flesh with the new sun transformed the season of cold winter and, vouchsafing to mortal men a healing dawn, commanded the nights to decrease at His coming with advancing day.’”

“There, you see?” He grinned. “The Solstice Story in a Christian context, and beautifully put, too. Seriously, though, it’s important to realize and really
know
that allegiance to the Light goes far beyond any sectarian differences. Oh, organized religions certainly serve their purpose, sending up little psychic beacons of light—you can see some of them, if you turn your vision toward that end, hovering above church steeples and the like.

“But the overall umbrella of psychic goodwill is what’s most important, regardless of how people choose to frame their support of it, regardless what form the outward observances take. In fact, I suppose you could say that’s one of the important things that Masons and other quasi-esoteric organizations do: they generate a substantial portion of the general umbrella of white light that protects the psychic consciousness of the world from the shadows of evil, filling in the gaps left by organized religions.”

Peregrine thought about that imagery for a moment, then nodded.

“Then, maybe the Lodge of the Lynx is trying to punch holes in that umbrella,” he said. “Maybe that’s what the lightning bolts are for, and they’re killing Masons because Masons help keep the umbrella intact.”

Startled, Adam glanced at Peregrine. He had never considered the problem in precisely those terms before, but perhaps it was an angle worth pursuing. God knew, whatever was lurking up in the Cairngorms had something larger in mind than simply picking off Freemasons.

You know, you may well have something there,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to think more on that angle.” He paused to cover a yawn. “In the meantime, I suppose we ought to get home and let Philippa know what’s happened. Let’s go, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

* * *

They ended up gorging on stacks of Humphrey’s hot ham sandwiches first, though, while Philippa pumped them for information on the day’s near misadventure. Peregrine was feeling replete and slightly drowsy as he settled back into one of the chairs in the library with two fingers of the MacAllan in a crystal tumbler.

“By the way, that’s the last alcohol you’re to have until I tell you otherwise,” Adam said, settling back with his own drink. “And tomorrow, no food after midday.”

At Peregrine’s look of dismay, Philippa laughed and set aside her sherry.

“I’m afraid Adam’s gone and made one of his leaps of logic, my dear,” she told him, reaching across to pat his knee. “We’ve been tentatively planning this for over a week now—since before Adam’s accident, actually—but obviously no one bothered to tell one of the principal participants. We’re going to try to sort out Gillian tomorrow night—with your help, of course. Along with that, if you’re still willing, we’d like to present you for formal initiation into our company. You’ve seen enough by now to know that ours is a dangerous vocation. But should you choose to join us, we pledge you our fullest friendship and support, even unto death.”

“And beyond,” Adam added quietly.

All thought of drowsiness fled, and Peregrine fought down a queer fluttering sensation in his midsection as he glanced at Adam. His mentor had a tiny smile on his lips, and obviously was expecting him to say something.

“I—can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more than what you’ve just been generous enough to offer me,” he said with an effort, returning his gaze to Philippa. “Of course I’m willing. I only hope I can prove worthy of your confidence. But whatever abilities I’ve been blessed with—I gladly offer them in your service.”

“Fine, that’s settled then—though it isn’t only
our
service,” Philippa said with a smile, picking up her sherry again. “Welcome to our company, my dear.”

She stayed with them only a few more minutes, while they went over practical logistics for the next day, retiring then to leave the two men their privacy. No one knew better than Adam that the prospect of initiation was likely to prove as daunting as it was exhilarating for his fledgling hawk, so he was not surprised when his young protégé tossed off the rest of his drink and, with a look of sheer determination bordering on panic, turned to face him squarely.

“Adam, you’re probably going to think me an awful fool,” he said with the air of one making a confession, “but it only now occurs to me that I haven’t got the faintest idea how to prepare for this. I mean, isn’t there something I ought to be doing? Something I ought to be studying, or something I should at least be thinking about?”

Adam’s dark eyes held a grave twinkle. “As far as preparations are concerned, I think you’ve already served quite a successful apprenticeship. Beyond that, the fact that you’re asking me these very questions means that you’re already moving toward the right frame of mind. I can recommend nothing better than to continue as you’re already doing—searching your own heart and conscience with the intention of offering up all that you are and may become to the service of the One who is also the true Light.”