Camilla muttered something. She raised her shotgun, at the same time sidestepping to get Jake out of her line of fire. A moment later the twelve-gauge blasted, twice in quick succession.
Jake saw, or thought he saw, small fragments of dark fur, white bone, and bloody brains go flying. The hulking shape had crumpled and was crashing about in the sparse brush, twisting and straightening. Camilla broke the double-barrelled weapon open and loaded the chambers for a third shot and a fourth, but held her fire. Jake, who had scrambled to one side, giving her more shooting room, turned back and cautiously approached the creature she'd hit.
He stood and stared in disbelief. The bear—he didn't know what else to call it—was obviously dead now, its most peculiar head a bloody mess, white bits of skull protruding, almost detached from the body by the double impact. Either buckshot, thought Jake, or else a load of rifled slugs. The heavy limbs still twitched.
Jake took a couple of uncertain strides closer to the body, and stood there marveling.
He turned his head to Camilla. "What—?"
She shook her head. "I call 'em canyon bears. I know you don't have 'em round your CCC camp, but here there's quite a few. No fear of human beings, they'll walk right up and eat you if you let 'em. Except they've learned to keep clear of our house; Edgar scares them off somehow. Most aren't this big, but I've seen a few bigger. Edgar says we might as well kill 'em when we have a chance. That's why he said to take the shotgun."
"But—I never saw anything like it. Where'd it come from?" Jake once again walked closer to the dead creature, giving his eyes a chance to confirm what they thought they had seen the first time. Camilla stood by in silence, patiently letting him look his fill.
For a time that Jake could not have judged as either long or short, he stood there looking. Then, slowly, in some kind of wordless agreement, he and Camilla resumed their walk back up the side canyon. This time he let her lead the way.
Swiftly night was becoming established, darkness oozing up and out of the deeply shaded crevices and small ravines that marked the canyon's walls. Jake searched the strip of sky above. Now stars were appearing, faster than you could count them, but when Jake sought the familiar in the sky he could recognize none of the constellations that he knew. The North Star, which he'd always been able to locate winter or summer, ever since he was a boy, wasn't to be found at all.
He stopped and turned to his companion. "Camilla, where are we? What's happening?"
"Poor Jake." Shifting her grip on the shotgun, she reached up with her free hand to stroke his hair. "But I don't know what to tell you. Except what I said before, that the rocks down here are full of time. In here, what we call the Deep Canyon, days and years get all mixed up. Edgar can find his way in and out through them, but most people can't. You found your way in—with a little help. But now you can't get out again. Edgar's right about that. I can't either."
Jake made an inarticulate sound.
"Unless—" she said, and paused.
To Jake it sounded like now she was telling him the plain truth, as best she knew how, and she wanted to make sure he understood it. "You won't be able to get out, unless Edgar dies, or decides to let you out some day. And I can tell you he's not going to do either one."
Camilla looked over her shoulder, up the Deep Canyon toward the house and cave. Then she added in a whisper: "Unless between us—now that there's two of us—we can find a way to make him."
Chapter 4
Standing just inside the front door of the Tyrrell House, Joe asked the old woman quietly: "You say you heard Cathy's voice just now, Mrs. Tyrrell?"
She nodded. "I did." Her tone was challenging, ready to deal with skepticism.
"But you didn't see her?"
"No. I heard her, though. Almost as if in a dream—but I was wide awake."
Joe nodded, noncommittally. Brainard, standing a little behind his aunt, smiled nervously. Maria thought there was hostility, strangely mingled with relief, in the glance he directed at the strangers crowding the stone entryway.
Joe looked around, and asked: "What room were you in when you heard Cathy speaking to you, Mrs. Tyrrell?"
"I was lying down, in my bedroom—I presume all these people are experienced?" Mrs. Tyrrell had obviously decided to change the subject.
"They are." Joe let the matter of Cathy's voice drop for the time being.
In the course of the introductions, everyone had moved into the living room from the entryway. Maria noticed that Brainard kept glancing at the windows.
Following his gaze, she noted that the very sky looked bitterly cold out there as the daylight faded steadily, and the temperature in the house was certainly low enough to justify a good sweater. The only heat, in this room at least, seemed to be coming from a small blaze in the fireplace beside the entry.
"Have you planned your search for my daughter?" Brainard was asking Joe.
"Not yet, sir; not really."
Brainard shook his head and would have had more to say, but the actual client had no intention of letting her nephew take over. Sarah interrupted briskly, inviting Joe into another room to have a private talk. Maria got the impression that the old lady and her nephew were at odds over something, perhaps over a number of things. Perhaps chronically. It also seemed evident that Brainard didn't quite dare to argue openly with his aunt.
Joe paused before following his client into the next room. He said to his colleagues: "Why don't you three wait outside—take a little look around while you have the chance."
As if on impulse, Sarah interrupted, speaking to Maria: "Why don't you wait in here, my dear? Not outside." Maria thought the sharpness of the old woman's gaze mellowed as it came to rest on her.
Maria looked at her boss, who nodded. John and Bill nodded in turn, and retreated out through the front door.
"Do you speak Spanish, my dear?" Aunt Sarah asked, as soon as the door was closed. "I used to try to practice that language, a great many years ago."
Maria decided that now would not be the best time to put that practice to the test. Staying with English for the moment, she munnured something intended to be noncommital.
With a vague, distracted smile, Sarah turned away. "If you would come this way, Mr. Keogh?"
"Certainly." Joe followed Aunt Sarah into an adjoining room—Maria caught a glimpse of mellow lamplight, and booklined shelves—and the old lady closed the door.
The entrance at the level of the rim walk had brought the visitors into the house on its highest floor. What little Maria had seen of the interior so far seemed fitting for the dwelling's location. The log walls and stone fireplace were decked by a number of animal trophies, fossils, and what appeared to be Indian artifacts, along with a few small sculptures. In this large room, a couple of electric table lamps were dim enough to allow the firelight to make a pleasant show. Under other circumstances, Maria thought, the room would have been quite cheerful.
At the moment Maria found herself left alone with Brainard, who was watching her suspiciously, as if he thought she might pocket a souvenir as soon as his attention flagged.
Not easily perturbed by what she considered boorish behavior, she might have rather enjoyed a stare-down. But in the interests of peace Maria decided on the diplomatic course instead, and turned away to stroll about and study the interesting furnishings without touching them. And promptly discovered that the furnishings, or some of them at least, really were of interest. The sculptures she had noted earlier, little carven stone animals, perched on some of the rough wood shelves and tables, reminded her of something similar she had seen very recently—yes, in the window of a gift shop in El Tovar.