The Way of the Black Beast (18 page)

Willie shoved Malja to the steep rocks. Lonnie rushed ahead and walked right through the stone — just disappeared. As they led Malja through the false wall, she tried to determine which of her captors was the magician.

A cool, stone passageway led to a round room — probably had been an old cave. Years of usage showed many improvements including cots, table and chairs, a metal stove made from old cars, and even an aluminum chimney that bored into the stone ceiling.

Robert pushed Malja into a chair. Willie opened his hands and said, "I'm going to be honest with you — as best I can. But in the end, you're going to have to choose which of us to support."

"If this is all you've got," Malja said, surveying the cave, "then Cole's already won."

"Oh, we've got more. We've got Old McKinley for one. Lonnie, bring him out."

Lonnie went deeper into the cave. He returned pushing a chair on wheels. A bony, old man sat in the rickety chair with a stained, blue and white blanket covering his legs. His curly white hair made a drastic contrast to his dark skin. The left side of his body drooped — eye, mouth, shoulder, arm. His right eye quivered and drool slid from his mouth.

They brought Old McKinley beside her. He lifted his right arm and touched her face like a blind man. His hand traced her throat and shoulder, then settled on her breast.

Malja slapped him away. "No way," she said and stood.

An invisible force yanked her back into the seat. She growled as she tried to move, but her body had become locked to the chair. The old man's hand fondled her again. This time she saw the tattoo on his palm —
he's the magician.
And considering how fast he pulled off that spell and how destroyed he looked, he had to be quite talented.

"Now," Willie said, "you may not want to help us, but I can't have you helping Cole Watts."

"Don't you think you've jumped ahead a bit? I mean, I never said I wouldn't help you."

"I tend to do that. Jump ahead. 'Specially when I know the outcome. See, I can read it on your face. You won't help me. At least, not yet. So why waste the time yapping?"

Old McKinley groaned and slobbered.

Malja wriggled but couldn't move enough to avoid the old man. "Look, Cole didn't tell me anything. Maybe you can explain to me what's going on and then I can—"

"No, you won't believe if I tell you. Understand this is about a lot more than just who runs this farm. This is about real power. Big power. You got to see the party to get it."

"Then what am I here for? Just giving the old man a thrill? Take me to the party."

Willie motioned to Lonnie who wheeled Old McKinley back into the dark. Malja felt the pressure holding her to the chair release, but she made no attempt to get up — not with Willie and Robert holding the advantage.

Willie said, "That old man is more than a magician. He's seen things — and now he sees things. This wasn't about him getting a thrill. By Korstra, he's so old, I doubt anything works down there. No, this meeting was so he could touch into you, gauge what I should expect from you."

"You sure? Because his hand seemed very happy."

"He ain't no joke. He's a great, powerful man. He sees you now. He knows you won't help me. He tells me so, but I still find it hard to believe he's never wrong. I mean, we're all wrong once in a while."

"I don't understand what you people want but—"

"I know." Willie backed away. "Don't worry. Tomorrow. We'll try again."

Without another word, Robert escorted Malja back to the stables.

Fawbry grumbled as he tried to find a comfortable position for sleep. With his hands secured to the door and fresh manure clogging the air, he failed. Malja stood as far from him as her bindings allowed. Since her return, Fawbry hadn't said a word to her. He hadn't even shown the slightest bit of curiosity as to what had happened when they took her away.

Not that she could tell him much if he did ask. Clearly, some kind of struggle for rule had become quite serious. Cole Watts and Willie had followers, bases of operations, and mounting pressure. Why they wanted her and what went on at those parties troubled her, but for the moment, she saw little recourse other than to wait and gather more information.

Waiting, however, would be torture.

More than any other, two thoughts plagued her mind. First, she kept picturing Old McKinley — his dead left side, his drooling mouth, his eager bony hand. He smelled like a rotten fruit — a sharp, sour odor of sickness. Every time Malja saw his visage in her head, she thought of Tommy.

Her overactive mind leapt ahead and formed a hideous image — Tommy as a withered man. Crazed by magic, palsied and helpless. Old McKinley's brother in insanity.

Whenever she managed to obliterate this line of thinking, a second powerful thought hit her. Shotgun snored from his stool. Good. She didn't want an eavesdropper.

"Fawbry," she said, her voice soft. Fawbry leaned against one wood wall and closed his eyes. "That's okay. You don't need to talk. But, please listen." She paused, her trepidation like new food in her mouth. "I-I'm sorry."

Fawbry raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're right. I've dragged every one of you into this, and now you're stuck here because of me. For that, I apologize."

Looking away, he said, "Doesn't really do me much good now, does it?"

"I just thought I should say that. When you told me about Pung and Yolen, I understood more than you realize. You did what you did out of the need to satisfy the Black Beast."

"What's that?"

"Something Gregor, my guardian growing up, once told me about. I talked often to him about what I would do if I ever found Jarik and Callib — how I wanted them to suffer for all they had done to me. 'Vengeance,' he said to me, 'is the Black Beast that never lets you free.' He pointed to the charred wood in the fireplace. He told me the Black Beast was like that wood. On the surface, it's cold and harsh. But its desire burns quietly inside, waiting for the opportunity to reignite. Then it'll fiercely consume itself and all around it until nothing remains but ash. 'Let go of all your hatred,' he said to me. 'Be careful,' he said. He warned me."

"So why don't you listen to him?"

"I did. I tried. But the Black Beast never lets go. When I was seventeen, Jarik and Callib had my Uncle Gregor murdered. That's when I made my vow to the Beast. That's when my search really began. So, I'm sorry that you got caught in this."

"You really think that's enough?" Fawbry said. He kept his gaze on the dark ground. "Saying you're sorry is just words. You should've listened to Gregor. The man sounds smart. Had you listened to him, we'd have never met, and I'd be a lot happier. So I don't really care that you feel bad about any of it."

Malja could think of nothing else to say that would make things better, so she let silence cover them. It didn't last long. A minute later, Fawbry turned a challenging look at her and said, "If you're truly sorry, then change. If not for yourself, then do so for Tommy. Change your ways of doing things. Otherwise, you ought to shut up."

"You mean I should put away Viper and become a farmer or something? No. I'll always be a warrior."

"True. But
why
you kill is more important than just being a warrior. Change that and you change everything."

The next morning, they took Fawbry away. They came in, gave Malja a bowl of oatmeal, and left with Fawbry. All throughout the day, she waited but he never returned and no explanation came. She thought of Tommy often and of Fawbry's words, and she wished she believed in one of the brother gods so she'd have somebody to pray to. Instead, she waited. Alone.

When night arrived, so did Suzu. The walk up to Cole's office was quieter. No party this time. No candles lining the path. No drunken dog fights. All appeared calm and sleepy.

Entering the office, Malja came upon Cole and Willie — anything but calm and sleepy. They glared at each other like enemies on the battlefield. One raised an eyebrow. One clenched teeth. An entire argument occurred without a word spoken. At length, Willie let out an exasperated sigh and stomped out, rattling the windows with the slam of the door. Cole dismissed the tension with a wave and poured Malja a drink.

"I'm sorry about him. He's a fool. He's got his friends and his magician, but he's a fool. Yes, I know about Old McKinley. I'm sorry you had to meet that lecherous scum, but as a result, you've already helped me."

"Oh?"

"Until last night, I only had rumors and deductions to figure out Willie's strength."

"You followed us. Then the whole meeting between you and me was just a way to flush out Willie's hiding place?"

"I did want to meet you, and I do still want your help. But bless your heart if you think each step I take revolves around you. You've come here at a complex time, and I must capitalize on any opening my opponents leave me."

"
That
I can understand."

"I thought a fighting metaphor might help." Cole tapped her painted nails on the arm of her chair. "Do you know how magic works?"

"You're born to it."

"But that doesn't mean you can't understand how it works, even if you can't do it."

"Then I guess, no, I don't know how it works."

Cole tapped her nails faster. "It works by vibrations. Some of it does, anyway. Little, rapid movements that grow together, feed off each other, until you have a reaction. It's called sympathetic vibration. Magicians and many animals can create these initial vibrations. But it also occurs all around us. Music, say for example the kind created from a guitar, also creates sympathetic vibrations — not nearly to the magnitude needed for magic nor the right frequency for that matter. Unless, of course, you brought together a lot of musicians, built a device that could increase the power of their total vibrations, and knew what frequencies to emit. Why, then you might be able to create your own magic."

"Are you saying you've done this? Created your own magic?"

While Malja sipped her drink — something fruity with a hint of alcohol and amazingly cold — Cole slipped out of her chair and sauntered toward a stout cabinet. She pulled out a metal contraption that looked like a crab with its legs wrapped around a ball. She set the thing on the little, wood table before Malja.

"Creating magic is easy," Cole said. "The real challenge is creating machines that can work with or even enhance magic."

"So what does this machine do?"

"That one can tell if you're lying. It can read your body signals at a mere touch and then interpret those signals as to whether or not you've been a naughty girl and lied to me."

"I take it you want to use it on me."

"When you're ready to pledge your aid to me, then we'll use it. After that, you'll get all you want and more."

"More?"

"My sweet little Malja, oh, yes more. After all, it's not enough to find Jarik and Callib, is it? That would be nothing, but for blood. Don't you want to know why you are so special? Don't you want to know where you come from? Who you really are? Or is it all just about killing them?"

Malja sprang to her feet and put out her arm. "Fine. Hook up your machine. I'll take your pledge."

"Dear me, no. Not like this. Why that would be extortion — well, it would if there were any law in this world. Besides, I can't show you tonight anyway. But there'll be another party tomorrow night. If you really want to pledge yourself to me, we'll do it then."

"Pledge
myself?
You said it was just my help."

"See that. You're not ready. You don't get it yet. But you will." Cole headed down the dark hall. "Be sure to tell Willie I give him my fondest."

When Malja left the room, more confused than when she had arrived, Willie grabbed hold of her. She didn't resist. She wanted to go this time. Without a word, he guided her into the fields.

Robert and Lonnie were less agitated this time, and all three escorted her to the magic wall that camouflaged their cave. The two men guarding the way smiled and gave Malja a casual salute before starting up a new song. Once inside, they sat her down and Lonnie rushed off to fetch Old McKinley.

The old man started with her legs this time. He inched close to her, sniffing her thighs through his mucous-filled nose. As he worked toward her face, his white stubble poked at her neck. He leaned back, his head at an awkward angle, spittle dancing on his lips, and whispered to Willie.

"You're lucky you didn't make that pledge," Willie said. "If you'd been lying, the magic in her machine would have fried you up in seconds. And if you really meant your pledge, the magic would have enslaved you to her will."

Malja laughed. "Right. Sure. You guys aren't very good at conning people. I mean of course I'll believe in fire magic. Everybody knows magic is based on the elements. And while you're fake wall trick is arguable, I'm sure many would reason it out for themselves — but sniffing me and suddenly knowing what happened and then throwing in magic that can enslave people. Nobody's going to believe that."

Willie didn't change his attitude at all. "There's far more magic in the world than you'll ever know." Malja thought of how Tommy had made her talk so bluntly. "If you give Cole what she wants, you'll see some of the worst."