He spotted me and, bending down, he swept up a remote control box that rested at his feet. This close I could hear the clunk as the gears engaged, and the pedestal began its slow descent. There was no time to dither or fear. I jumped across the intervening two feet and hit the platform. I let my knees take the shock, but the moving platform made it hard. I was starting to fall. I managed to get my shoulder down and rolled. My rib went on strike, and for an instant I wondered if I could climb back to my feet. Gazing at the toes of Qwendar’s polished shoes I saw him draw back his foot to kick me. Pain or no, I had to get up.
I staggered with a groan onto my feet. Only inches separated us. Qwendar’s face twisted with rage. Somehow I had managed to keep a grip on the mike. I swung it like a billy club, and it connected with his wrist. He dropped the control box. We both lunged for it, but I got there first. I hit the stop button and then threw the controller off the platform. It hit the stage floor some twenty-five feet below us, and the plastic case shattered. I retreated to the opposite side of the platform well out of his reach, and we glared at each other.
“I should have killed you long ago. The moment you began questioning Kerrinan’s guilt, I shouldn’t have wasted time on subtlety,” Qwendar said, and then reacted when he heard his voice booming out across the theater.
“Yeah, because he wasn’t guilty and you knew it. You took control of him. Just like you’re controlling them.” I swept my arm out to encompass the theater. I noticed that the camera I had run past was no longer focused on the seething crowd. The single lens glittered in the stage lights. Out in the audience the sounds of conflict were dying away, as were the gunshots. It looked like David and Hank had reached the firing squad.
“Prove it,” he said.
“Okay. I bet once I knock you off this platform, and you go splat all over the stage, those Álfar are going to return to normal.”
He blanched and flinched. “You would not dare! You are a defender of your laws.”
“And you just threatened to murder me. I’m pretty sure this would fall under the self-defense rule.” The moment I finished I took a step toward him. I thrust the mike at him. “Tell everyone what you did. Or…” I made a pushing gesture with my other hand.
“Or I will kill you first,” the Álfar gritted, and he lunged at me.
I knew it was coming, so I was ready for it. I jumped to the side and swung the mike against his temple as he plunged past me. Don’t break, don’t break, I implored the microphone. Qwendar pulled up short, spun, and managed to land a punch on my ribs. The world seemed to flare red, and nausea clawed at my throat. I couldn’t help it; I doubled over.
Blinking, I realized I was facing his crotch. I knew from one night of lovemaking with John that Álfar had the same plumbing as humans. Would they be as tender as humans? I took a few staggering steps and head-butted him in the stomach while I brought up the mike and jammed it into his balls. Qwendar clutched himself, screeched, and doubled over. Looked like they were as tender as humans. I spun the old man around, wrenched his arm up behind his back, and started shoving him toward the edge.
“Talk!”
“All right, all right. I took Kerrinan’s blood. I had him kill the wife. I accosted Jondin in her trailer and cut her.”
“Where did she get the guns?”
“I pre-set them in Fey.”
“Now let them go,” I ordered, and gestured at the hall.
He just stared at me. The hatred in that look was so great that I almost felt it like a blow against my skin. There was still a gun being fired. This had to stop. I slammed the mike against his temple. I had to hit him twice before he fell unconscious. The moment he did the sounds of fighting stopped. Now all I heard was sobbing, people crying in pain, the whoop of approaching sirens, and … applause. Of course they clapped—it was Hollywood!
25
Since I’d broken the controller they had to get a cherry picker onto the stage to pluck us off the platform. Once down, we were surrounded by police and the six Álfar. The idea that there was going to be a tug-of-war over who took custody gave starch to my spine. I got right in Ladlaw’s face.
“There is no way you get him,” I said. “He’s going to answer for crimes committed in our world in our world.”
He stared down at me, and I could see his expression closing down as he prepared to argue. Parlan stepped in and touched his friend lightly on the arm. “She’s right. The world has seen us … your kind attacking humans tonight. If you carry him away to a realm where they can’t follow, they will never believe that justice was done. They’ll assume we … you let him off and the suspicion and resentment will continue to grow until there is a war between our people.”
For a moment it hung in the balance. Then Ladlaw looked down at the old Álfar, and an expression of disgust flickered across his face. He met the gazes of a policemen. “Very well, you may take him. But keep him unconscious until you have him safely locked away.”
I looked out across the auditorium, searching for my friends. It was quite a sight. Six horses stood in the main aisle tied to the arms of chairs. EMTs moved through the hall caring for the people who had been injured. Policemen were escorting the uninjured out of the hall. Tatters of torn fabric lay on the floor where trains and bows had been ripped from dresses during the frenzied stampede. I even spotted the forlorn toupee looking like a dead squirrel on one of the chairs.
Jeff had an ice pack to his eye. The twins looked tousled, and one arm was ripped off Maslin’s tuxedo jacket. Hank was talking volubly to a burly man in a policeman’s uniform which had a lot of stripes and medals. He looked terribly official. Kate was holding a young actress and rocking her while the girl sobbed against her breast. Kate’s expression was bleak, so I had a bad feeling the tears weren’t just a reaction to sudden and terrifying violence. Someone close to the girl was either hurt or dead: there were a few black body bags being zipped shut and rolled out of the theater. We had done our best, but we hadn’t saved everyone. I couldn’t find David, and it felt like my lungs were closing down.
Then I spotted him. He wasn’t out in the hall. He was sitting on the stairs on the right side of the stage with an EMT bending over him. I ran over in time to see the EMT lay a pad over the bullet hole in David’s chest and a matching pad on the exit wound just below his right shoulder. The slow leak of pale, translucent liquid was staunched.
“Could you hold those in place while I rip off some tape?” the EMT asked.
I nodded and knelt next to David, one hand pressed against his chest, the other against his back. Exhaustion had me wanting to lean against his shoulder, but he was the one who had been shot, so I forced myself to remain upright. There was the sharp tear and then rip as the EMT pulled off a long strand of medical tape and ran it around David’s torso.
I helped David to his feet and he gave an experimental shrug. “Thank you, that feels better,” he said to the EMT.
“I can offer you a pint now,” the EMT said. “You should eat. You lost a lot of blood.”
David made a face. “Thank you, but no. I hate the taste and texture of cold blood. I’ll be fine for now.” The EMT shrugged, snapped shut his case, and went on to help the next person. David squinted down at the bulge where the pad covered the bullet hole.