The Forever Drug (9 page)

I switched my vision back to the physical world. Too late: Jane had already pocketed the ticket.

Jane looked around the station with a slight frown
creasing her brow. "I've been here before," she said
in the soft voice of someone trying to remember a fading dream. "But it was different, then. They used chalk to write down the departure times, and the trains were ... different. They ran on metal wheels, and had a rhythm. They gave off smoke..."

She blinked, as if trying to remember more.

"That was in another lifetime, Mareth'riel."

I repeated the word silently to myself: Mareth'riel. It sounded elven. Was it Jane's name? I didn't think it was just a term of endearment, but even if it was, it sounded as if the elf knew Jane well. At the very least, he knew of her delusions—of her belief that she had lived in centuries past—and was humoring them.

The elf raised his arm and consulted a wristwatch— gold, of course—then spoke again. "Only ten minutes until our train leaves, Mareth'riel. We should board it now."

As Jane followed willingly behind him, my heart pounded. How was I to stop her? More to the point,
should
I stop her? What if the elf was a friend or relative who had learned that Jane was in Halifax, suffering from memory loss, and had come to take her home again?

No, it didn't scan. A friend wouldn't drug Haley to get to Jane. A friend would have waited until Gem or I returned home, explained who he was, and then asked us to hold Haley while he collected Jane. The elf had obviously expected Jane to be in full command of her faculties, to put up a fight. That's why he'd brought the drug along. The fact that her loss of memory made her completely trusting was an unexpected bonus. He'd only had to drug Haley.

How had he known where to find Jane? He didn't recognize me—his penetrating gaze had already slid past me once, and he'd discounted me as a non-threat. He didn't know who I was, that it was my home he'd stolen Jane away from.

I followed Jane and the elf to the escalator that led up the maglev trains. As the stairs rose inexorably toward the platform, my mind raced. I had no idea how I was going to stop them from boarding the train—how I was going to get Jane away from the elf before the maglev's doors closed behind them.

The escalator beside us, less than a meter away, carried people coming down from the platform. They stared at me with bored or tired expressions, not really seeing me as I looked wildly about, searching for inspiration.

Then I heard the sound of Music Man at the top of the escalator. At the same time, I heard a maglev train slide into the station, and saw the elf wince at its high-pitched whine. That told me what kind of cybernetic implant was in his ear. And it gave me an idea.

Music Man still owed me one. I'd saved his hoop one night, after a group of gangers decided they liked the music that a punching bag made, and took turns using their fists and feet on his body. I'd been on patrol that night, and had used my teeth to even the score; I could still remember the satisfying sounds of their screams as I sank my fangs into their wrists and ankles. It was all I could do to rein in my instincts and not finish the friggers, then and there.

When the last of them had limped away, cursing and bloody, I'd shifted back into human form to help Music Man to his feet. And I'd given him a word of advice: if he ever needed my assistance again, he should use his synths to call for help in a high-pitched tone that only my wolf ears could hear. That was when he demonstrated his whistle at close range, much to my regret.

Now I was about to call upon
his
help.

As the escalator deposited Jane and the elf on the
maglev platform, I waved at Music Man behind their backs. Then I put two fingers to my lips and mimed a whistle, punching my fist into my stomach at the same time.

Music Man was no fool. He caught the reference at once. The melody he was playing abruptly stopped. He jammed a finger into his navel.

I plugged my ears just in time. A high-pitched, ear-splitting whistle screamed out of Music Man's subdermal speakers. If you had the ears for it, you could hear it a kilometer away.

The humans and metas in the train station were oblivious to the sound. But the elf heard it all right. His cybernetic ear—a frequency extender—was pumping to the sound straight into his brain. He doubled over, clutching a hand to the left side of his head.

In that instant, I moved. Scooping Jane into my arms—and gritting my teeth against the whistle, which lanced painfully into my ears the instant I unplugged them—I leaped onto the smooth metal surface that separated the two escalators. We tobogganed down it in a crazy rush. I landed on my hoop at the bottom with enough force to earn me a lingering bruise, had I not been a shifter. Then I scrambled to my feet, still holding Jane in my arms.

She'd been too surprised by my sudden action to react. But the elf above wasn't. Even over Music Man's whistle I heard the sharp crack of a bullet as it glanced off the floor beside my foot: the spot where my hoop had rested a second ago. The elf might know Jane well enough to use her real name, but he certainly didn't seem to value her life. Not if he was shooting at us. Either that, or he was a frigging good shot, certain enough of his aim that he knew he wouldn't hit her. Only my speed had thrown him off.

People were screaming now. A few were even clambering over the gap between the two escalators, seeking the relative safety of having a wall of metal between themselves and the gunman. And that was lucky for me: it prevented the elf from sliding to the bottom as I had.

I ran through the terminal, zigzagging my way around the passengers who thronged the station, occasionally having to hurdle over luggage when it blocked the only clear path. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Via Rail security guards running toward me. But they were still some distance away, separated from me by thick crowds. My immediate concern was that Jane would try to squirm out of my arms. So I spoke to her as I ran, stretching the truth just a little.

"Jane, it's me, Romulus. I'm a friend; you were staying in my garage. You can't trust the elf. He was going to drug you and force you to go with him. Did you see what he did to Haley—the German shepherd? The elf was going to do that to you."

Understanding blossomed in Jane's eyes. "Galdenistal told me the dog was sleeping."

"Is that the elf's name? Where was he taking you?" I asked.

"I don't know."

Drek. We were back to that again.

I'd run through most of the station and was approaching the exit on the east side. The doors were just ahead. They opened onto a series of piers, which were jammed with containers and loading equipment. It was a perfect maze to lose pursuers in. And if I
didn't
lose the elf, I could always duck behind a container, change into wolf form, and then throw myself at his throat. No doubt about it, I'd have the element
of surprise on my side.

Unless he too could perceive astral space. If so, he already knew my true form.

I slammed a shoulder into the doors, forcing them open. As I did, the door frame beside me erupted into splinters. An instant later, I took a bullet in the thigh.

The pain was incredible. I staggered, and Jane slid out of my arms. She landed on her feet, but then just stood and stared at the doors, which had swung shut behind me, as bullets stitched a neat line of holes across them.

"Run!" I screamed at her, clutching my thigh. Blood was flowing thick and fast, soaking the leg of my jeans. I hobbled out of the line of fire, to the side of the doors. "They're shooting at us, damn it! Run!"

Jane didn't need any more encouragement. She turned and sprinted away along the side of the building, rounding its corner and disappearing.

I let got of my leg long enough to tear off my clothes and throw them onto a nearby pile of garbage. Then I shifted. Immediately, the pain of my leg wound lessened and the smell of blood became hot and strong in my wolf nose. I swiveled my ears; from inside the station, I could hear footsteps running toward me. The door began to open. There was no time to run.

I did the only thing I could. I crouched down, leaning over so that I was hiding my leg wound and the blood that had spilled onto the asphalt. Then I pretended to scratch a flea with my good hind leg.

The elf burst out of the doors, coming out low and fast and rolling to one side. He sprang to his feet, holding his fire but still sweeping the area with the Uzi min-machine pistol he held in his left hand.

The elf's gold eyes flicked toward me, and held me in their grip just for a moment. I looked up at him with a deliberately stupid expression on my face, grinning and tongue lolling. Every muscle in my body was tense. I would either succeed in my bluff... or die.

The gold eyes looked away. He pulled something from his pocket, consulted whatever it was that was hidden in his hand, and after a moment put it away.

Then he turned and ran in the direction Jane had taken.

I cursed silently as I watched him go. Then I stood, staggering slightly from the pain of my wound. I limped off after them, silently yelping with each step.

7

By the time my regenerative powers had healed my leg wound enough for me to speed up to a run, Jane and the elf were far ahead of me. I loped along, nose to the ground, following their scents. Then at last I saw them.

Jane had run down a blind alley, a U-shaped tunnel formed by containers on either side and a cement wall at the far end. The containers were stacked three-deep on top of one another, their blue, yellow, red, and green colors reminiscent of a child's building blocks. Jane's back was against the cement wall. There was nowhere left for her to run.

The elf had his back to me. His attention was completely focused on Jane. He was shouting at her in Sperethiel, gesturing with his right hand. The Uzi was still in his left hand, but he held it in the ready position, barrel pointed at the sky.

I skidded to a stop about a hundred meters away, cautious about approaching any closer. I was directly behind the elf and he hadn't yet seen me, but I wasn't sure how good his peripheral vision was. Or whether he would notice if Jane's gaze flicked toward me. It would only take a fraction of a second for him to empty the Uzi's magazine at me. Or at Jane.

At first, Jane cowered, a confused look in her eye. Then something clicked. Her posture changed; her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. Her eyes narrowed as she clenched her jaw. I switched to astral perception and saw that even her aura was different. Then she tossed her head and shot a stream of rapid, belligerent words back at the elf. I couldn't understand a word of it, but I thought I heard two names: Xavier and Laverty.

My ears went back. Not only was Jane speaking fluently in Sperethiel, she was using a voice I'd never heard before. It was as if someone else had taken over her body and was using her vocal chords. Her voice was firm, clear, filled with authority. And angry. She was telling the elf off, no question about it. And it takes a lot of nerve to lip off to someone with an Uzi in his hand, when your back is literally against the wall. I felt a rush of pride, seeing the fire in Jane's gold-flecked eyes. Somehow it made her even more beautiful.

The elf's body tensed. Even at this distance, I could smell the anger emanating from him. Eyes narrowed, he silently lowered his submachine gun until it was pointed directly at Jane.

I ran toward the elf. If I was quick enough, I could leap up and hit him square in the back, maybe throw his aim off. But even as I closed the distance between us, I knew I would be too late. Jane was as good as dead.

That was when the bolt of glowing energy erupted from Jane's hand. Astral space exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors that looked as if a living flame shot out from the very center of Jane. The brilliant wash of orange caught the elf completely by surprise, engulfing his head. He staggered back a step, then doubled over as another flame of magical energy caught him in the gut. He took one more step, his body twisting as one foot tripped over the other. Then the Uzi clattered to the ground and the elf collapsed beside it.

I slowed to a trot and looked around with normal vision, blinking. Jane was full of surprises this morning. Not only could she speak Sperethiel; she could cast spells. With this knowledge came a sudden realization: Jane could take care of herself. The thought somehow pleased and saddened me at the same time.

I had to speak to her, ask her what was going on. And so I changed back into human form. I stood up, brushing the dust from my palms. "Mareth'riel?" I said hesitantly. "Jane?" I wasn't sure which name she'd respond to.

Jane's eyes were closed. She sagged where she stood, one hand against the concrete wall behind her. The spellcasting had drained her, sapped her strength. The steely determination I had seen a moment ago was gone.

"Jane?"

Her eyes opened. She looked at me warily, as if trying to place me in her memory. At last she whispered a question: "Romulus?"

I grinned. Then I looked back at the elf. He was still down. But he was an adept. There was no way of knowing how quickly he might recover from Jane's spell.

"Who is he?" I asked Jane.

She stared at the elf as if seeing him for the first time. "I... don't know."

"Don't you remember talking to him just a moment ago? You were speaking Sperethiel."