Her expression calm, concentrated, Mistress Jenna moved from beneath the tree branches into a patch of red moonlight. She lifted her face to the moon and smiled, as though basking in its blessed rays. Dominique walked over near her and whispered something. Jenna nodded silently in agreement. Reaching into one of her pouches, she drew out an object and clasped it in her hand. Dominique walked off to take up a position some distance from her, yet keeping her within sight.
The two had secretly formed their own strategy, Rhys realized, one they had probably not bothered to discuss with Gerard.
Rhys clasped his emmide tightly.
Gerard and Nightshade stood together by the boulder.
“There he is,” said Gerard, and he put his hand on Nightshade’s shoulder.
A young man was walking energetically up the hill. There was no mistaking him, for he carried a torch to light his way and the firelight shone brightly on his red hair.
“Take a good look at him, Nightshade,” said Gerard. “A good look inside him.”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” said Nightshade. “I know what you want me to see, but I don’t. There’s nothing inside him. Not anymore.”
Gerard’s shoulders slumped. “All right. Go back and stay with Rhys.”
“I can help you talk to him,” Nightshade offered, feeling sorry for his friend. “I’m good at talking to dead people.”
“Just... go back,” Gerard ordered. A nerve in his jaw twitched.
Nightshade ran off.
“Cam is on his way,” he reported, adding sadly, “They don’t come much deader.”
Jenna and Dominique exchanged glances.
“Nightshade,” Rhys said, leaning down to whisper into the kender’s ear, “I’m going to join Gerard.”
“I’ll come with you—”
“No,” said Rhys. His gaze went to Jenna and the paladin. “I think you should stay here.”
Dominique placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, partially drawing it from its scabbard. The weapon began to shine with an eerie white light.
“You’re right. I still have blisters on my fingers.” Nightshade peered into the tree branches. “I’ll have a great view of the action from up there, and I can still cast my spells, if you need me. Give me a boost, will you?”
Rhys hoisted the kender into the lower branches of the walnut tree. Nightshade scrambled from limb to limb and was soon lost to sight.
Rhys walked softly, moving without sound through the shadows. Atta padded along beside him, her white patches of fur taking on a pinkish color in the red moonlight. Neither Jenna nor Dominique paid any attention to him.
“Here, Brother, take the torch,” said Gerard, handing Rhys the flaring light. “Now, back off.”
“I think I should stay with you,” said Rhys.
“I said back off, Monk!” Gerard flared. “He’s my friend. I’ll handle this.”
Rhys had serious misgivings, but he did as he was ordered, walking back to stand in the shadows.
“Who’s there?” Cam called, holding up his torch. “Sheriff? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Cam,” said Gerard.
“What in the Abyss are you doing here?” Cam demanded.
“Waiting for you.”
“Why? I’m off-duty now. I’m free to do what I please,” Cam returned, irritated. “If you must know, I’m meeting someone here, a young lady. So I’ll just bid you a good-night, Sheriff-—”
“Jenny’s not coming, Cam,” said Gerard quietly. “I told her father and mother about you.”
“Told them what?” Cam challenged.
“That you took an oath to Chemosh, the Lord of Death.”
“What if I did?” Cam demanded. “Solace is a free city, or so that old fart of a Mayor keeps saying. I can worship any god I choose—”
“Unbutton your shirt for me, son,” said Gerard.
“My shirt?” Cam laughed. “What’s my shirt go to do with anything?”
“Humor me,” said Gerard.
“Humor yourself,” said Cam rudely. Turning, the young man started to walk away.
Gerard reached out, seized hold of Cam’s shirt and gave it a sharp yank.
Cam whipped around, his freckled face contorted in fury, his fists clenched. His shirt placket gaped open.
“What’s that?” Gerard asked, pointing.
Cam glanced down at a burn mark on his left breast. He smiled, then touched it reverently with his fingers. He looked back at Gerard.
“Mina’s kiss,” Cam said softly.
Gerard started. “Mina! How do you know Mina?”
“I don’t, but I see her face all the time. That’s what we call the mark of her love for us. Mina’s Kiss.”
“Cam,” said Gerard, his expression grave. “Son, you’re in a lot of trouble, more trouble than you can ever imagine. I want to help—”
“No, you don’t.” Cam snarled. “You want to stop me.”
Rhys had heard those words before, or something very like them.
He was going to try to stop me.... Lleu’s words, spoken as his brother stood over the corpse of the Master. Then there was poor Lucy’s husband, hacked to bits. Maybe he had wanted to stop her.
“Now listen to me, Cam—”
“Gerard!” Rhys cried. “Look out!”
His warning came to late. Cam lunged, hands reaching for Gerard’s throat.
The attack caught Gerard completely off-guard. He fumbled for his sword, but he did not have time to draw it before the hands of the young man closed with bone-crushing strength around his neck.
Calling upon Kiri-Jolith, Dominique ran to the sheriff’s rescue. His sword flared with holy zeal. Rhys was running, too, but the Beloved possessed a grip that was as strong as death and as unrelenting. Gerard would be dead, his windpipe crushed, before either Dominique or Rhys could reach him.
A small black and white furry body dashed past Rhys. Atta launched herself into the air and flung herself at the grappling men. She crashed into them bodily, knocking both Cam and Gerard to the ground, jarring loose Cam’s hold on his victim.
Gerard rolled over on his back, gasping for air.
Cam fought with the dog, who was attacking him viciously, her snapping teeth going for his jugular.
“Monk, call off your dog!” Dominique cried.
“Atta!” Rhys yelled. “To me!”
The dog was in a red rage, intent on the kill. The blood of the wolf that had been her distant ancestor pounded in her ears, drowning out her master’s command.
Cam seized hold of Atta by the scruff of her neck, wrenched her off him. He twisted her neck, then flung her limp body away.
Rhys couldn’t leave Gerard, who was gasping for breath. Rhys looked back in agony at Atta. He could not see her very well, for she lay outside the light of his torch. She didn’t appear to be moving.
There was a rustle of leaves and a crashing sound, and Nightshade tumbled down from his perch amidst the branches.
“She’s hurt pretty bad, but I’ll take care of her, Rhys!” the kender called with a catch in his voice.
He took Atta into his arms, and with tears running down his cheeks, began to croon to her softly, rocking her back and forth.
Rhys wrenched his gaze from his dog to the confrontation between Dominique and the Beloved. Cam had managed to regain his feet with amazing speed. His throat was slashed half-open, but only a small amount of blood oozed from the wounds.
He grinned at the paladin.
“What are you supposed to be? Huma’s ghost?”
Dominique brought forth a holy medallion he wore around his neck. He held it up in front of Cam.
“In the name of Kiri-Jolith, I call upon you to return to the Abyss from whence you came!”
“I don’t come from the Abyss,” said Cam. “I come from Solace, and get that thing out of my face!”
He knocked aside Dominique’s hand, sending the holy medallion flying out of the paladin’s grasp.
Coolly and calmly, Dominique plunged his sword in Cam’s breastbone.
Cam gave a strangled cry. He stared in disbelief at the sword that was buried in his chest up to the hilt.