Bloodstone

* * *

Shannow climbed the stairs to the second level and found the young red-headed youngster kneeling by a window, staring out over the yard. 'What are they doing now?' he asked the boy.

Wallace put down his rifle and stood. 'Just sitting. Can't understand it, Meneer. One minute they're tearing up everything in sight, the next they're lying like hounds in the moonlight.'

They fed,' explained Shannow. 'The question is, how long before their hunger brings them against us?

You be ready now.'

This is a strong-built house, Meneer, but the windows and doors ain't gonna hold 'em — I can tell you that.

Back in town they was ripping them apart like they was paper. And they can jump too, by God! I saw one spring maybe fifteen feet up on to the side of a building.'

They can jump,' agreed Shannow, 'and they can die too.'

Wallace grinned. They can that.' As Shannow turned to move away, the boy reached out and took hold of his arm. 'You saved my life. I didn't even know that thing was close. I won't forget it.'

Shannow smiled. 'You settled that debt when you half-carried me back. I was all finished. You're a good man, Wallace. I'm proud to know you.' The two men shook hands and Shannow walked back to the narrow hallway, checking the other two adjoining rooms on this upper floor. Both were bedrooms, one decorated with lace curtains, yellowed now with age. Children's drawings and sketches were still pinned to the walls, stick men in front of box houses, with smoke curling from chimneys. In the corner, by the closed window, was a stuffed toy dog with floppy ears. Shannow remembered when little Mary carried it everywhere. The other room was Samuel's. The walls were lined with shelves which carried many books, including a special gold-edged edition of The New Elijah. Shannow sighed. Another of Saul's little vanities. When it was published Shannow had read the first chapter, outlining God's call to the young Jerusalem Man, then sent for Saul.

'What is this. .garbage?'

'It's not garbage, Deacon. Everything in that book is fact. We got most of it from primary sources, men who knew the Jerusalem Man, who heard his words. I would have thought you would have been pleased. He predicted your coming.'

'He did no such thing, Saul. And half of the names in the first chapter never came within a hundred miles of Shannow. Several others have let their imaginations run riot.'

'But. . how would you know that, Deacon?'

‘I know. How is no concern of yours. How many have been printed?'

Saul smiled. 'Forty thousand, Deacon. And they've sold so fast we're going for a second printing.'

'No, we are not! Let it go, Saul.'

Shannow lifted the book from the shelf and flipped it open. In the centre was a black and white engraving showing a handsome man on a rearing black stallion, silver pistols in the rider's hands, and upon his head a sleek black hat. All around him were dead Hellborn. 'At least they didn't say I killed ten thousand with the jawbone of an ass,' whispered Shannow, tossing the book to the pine bed.

Carefully he opened the shutter and leaned out. Below him was Jeremiah's wagon, the roof ripped apart.

Several Wolvers were asleep within it, others were stretched out by the ruined barn.

What are you going to do, Shannow? he asked himself.

How do you plan to stop the Beast?

Fear touched him then, but he fought it down.

'What are you doing here?' asked Beth. This is my son's room.'

Shannow sat upon the bed, remembering the times he had read to the boy. ‘I don't need your hatred, Beth,' he said softly.

'I don't hate you, Deacon. I despise you. There is a difference.'

Wearily he stood. 'You ought to make up your mind, woman. You despise me because I gave no ground and saw my enemies slain; you despised your lover, Jon Cade, because he wouldn't slay his enemies.

What exactly do you require from the men in your life?'

'I don't need to debate with you,' she said stonily.

'Really? Then why did you follow me here?'

'I don't know. Wish I hadn't.' But she made no move to leave. Instead she walked further into the room and sat down on an old wicker chair by the window. 'How come you knew about me and Jon? You have spies here?'

'No… no spies. I knew because I was here, Beth. I was here.'

'I never saw you.'

'You still don't see me,' he said sadly, rising and walking past her. The pine steps creaked under his weight and Dr Meredith turned as Shannow approached.

'It's terribly quiet,' said the younger man.

'It won't stay that way, Doctor. You should ask if Frey McAdam has a spare weapon for you.'

‘I am not very good with guns, Deacon. I never wanted to be, either.'

'That's fine, Doctor, as long as there is someone else to do your hunting for you. However, you won't need to be good. The targets will be close enough to rip off your face. Get a gun.'

'What does it take to make a man like you, Deacon?' asked Meredith, his face reddening.

'Pain, boy. Suffering, sorrow and loss.' Shannow pointed at Jeremiah's blanket-covered corpse. 'Today you had a tiny taste of it. By tomorrow you'll know more. I don't mind you judging me, boy. You couldn't be harder on me than I am on myself. For now, though, I suggest we work together to survive.'

Meredith nodded. 'I guess that is true,' he said. 'You were starting to tell me about the Gateways. Who made them, and why?'

Shannow moved to the armchair and gazed down at the sleeping woman. Beth had found a small, beautifully carved crib and had placed the babe in it, beside the chair. 'No one knows,' he said, keeping his voice soft. 'A long time ago I met a man who claimed they were created in Atlantis, twelve thousand years before the Second Fall. But they may be older. The old world was full of stories about Gateways, and old straight paths, dragon trails and ley lines. There are few facts, but scores of speculative theories.'

'How are they opened?'

Shannow moved silently away from the mother and child and stood by the door. 'I couldn't tell you. I knew a woman who was adept at such matters. But she remained behind on the day of the Fall, and I guess was killed with the rest of the world. She once took me through to her home in a place called Arizona. Beautiful land. But how she did it. .?'He shrugged.'She had a piece of Sipstrassi, a Daniel Stone. There was a burst of violet light, and then we were there.'

'Ah, yes,' said Meredith, 'the Stones. I've heard of them but never seen one. A hospital in Unity used them to cure cancer and the like. Astonishing.'

'Amen to that,' said Shannow. 'They can make an old man young, or heal the sick, or create food from molecules in the air. It is my belief that Moses used them to part the Red Sea — but I cannot prove it.'

'God had no hand in it, then?' asked Meredith, with a smile.

'I don't try to second-guess God, young man. If He created the Sipstrassi in the first place, then they are still miracles. If He gave one to Moses, you could still say that God's power parted the waves. However, this is not the time for Biblical debate. The Stones make imagination reality. That's all I know.'

'Be nice to have one or two at this moment,' said Meredith. 'With one thought we could kill all the wolves.'

'Sipstrassi cannot kill,' Shannow told him.

Meredith laughed. That's your problem, Deacon. You lack the very imagination you say the Stones need.'

'What do you mean?'

Meredith stood. 'Take this chair. It is of wood. Surely a Stone could transform it into a bow and arrows?

Then you could shoot something and kill it. Sipstrassi would have killed it, albeit once removed. And these Gateways you speak of, well, perhaps there is no technique. Perhaps the woman you knew was not adept at all — merely imaginative.'

Shannow thought about it. 'You think she merely wished herself home?'