“This time?”
“Two calls in fifteen minutes. I feel like a switchboard. I think you should explain some of this to me. I couldn’t get a straight story out of Abby.”
“Tony, I didn’t call you earlier.”
“No? I don’t know who I talked to, then, but he sounded like you and he gave your name. Did you have a drink tonight, Guilford? Not that I’d blame you. If there’s something wrong between you and Abby I’m sure you can patch it up—”
“Is Abby there?”
“Abby and Nick went back to the house. Just like you said. Guilford?”
He put down the phone.
Chapter Thirty
The night was dark, the rural roads unlighted. The car’s headlights raked wheat fields and rock walls. They’re out there in the dark, Guilford thought: faceless enemies, shadows out of the inexplicable past or the impossible future.
Tom had insisted on coming along, and Lily with him, over Guilford’s objections. She wouldn’t be any safer in town, the frontiersman said. “We’re her best protection right now.”
To which Lily added, “I’m a farm girl. I can handle a rifle, if it comes to that.”
Guilford took a corner and felt the rear of the car swing wide before he righted it. He gripped the steering wheel fiercely. Very little traffic on the coast road this time of night, thank God. “How many are we up against?”
“At least two. Probably more. Whoever bombed your shop probably wasn’t local or they would have had a better fix on you. But they’re learning fast.”
“Whoever called Tony’s place used my voice.”
“Yeah, they can do that.”
“So they’re — what do you call it? Demon-ridden?”
“That’ll do.”
“And unkillable?”
“Oh, you can kill ’em,” Tom said. “You just have to work a little harder at it.”
“Why go after Abby and Nick?”
“They’re not after Abby and Nick. If they wanted to hurt Abby and Nick, they would have gone out to your cousin’s and raised hell. Abby and Nick are bait. Which gives the bad guys the advantage, unless we found out about it sooner than they expected.”
Guilford leaned into the gas pedal. The Ford’s engine roared, the rear wheels kicked dust into the darkness.
Tom said, “I have a couple of pistols in my sea bag.” Which he’d thrown into the back seat. “I’ll break ’em out. Guilford, any armaments at the house?”
“A hunting rifle. No, two — there’s an old Remington stored in the attic.”
“Ammunition?”
“Lots. Lily, we’re getting close. Best keep your head down.”
She took one of the pistols from Tom. “That would spoil my aim,” she said calmly.
Tony’s car, an old roadster, was pulled up in front of the house, just visible in the sweep of the headlights. Tony’s car. Abby would have borrowed it. How much time had passed since Abby and Nick had arrived? It couldn’t have been much, given the drive from Palaepolis. Forty-five minutes, an hour?
But the house was dark.
“Stop the engine,” Tom said. “Give us a little margin. Coast in — no lights.”
Guilford nodded and twisted the key. The Ford floated into velvety night, no sound but the crush of gravel under tires as they drifted to a stop.
The front door of the house swung open on a flicker of light. Abby in the doorway with a candle in her hand.
Guilford leaped from the car and rushed her back into the house. Lily and the frontiersman followed.
“The lights don’t work,” Abby was saying. “Neither does the phone. What’s going on? Why are we here?”
“Abby, I didn’t call. It was some kind of trick.”
“But I talked to you!”
“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”
Abby put her hand to her mouth. Nick was behind her on the sofa, sleepy and confused.
“Draw those drapes,” Tom said. “I want all the doors and windows locked.”
“Guilford…?” Abby said, eyes wide.
“We’ve got a little trouble here, Abby.”
“Oh, no… Guilford, it sounded like you, it was your voice—”
“We’ll be fine. Just have to keep our heads down for a little while. Nick, stay put.”
Nicholas nodded solemnly.
“Get your rifle, Guilford,” the frontiersman said. “Mrs. Law, you have any more of those candles?”
“In the kitchen,” she said dazedly.
“Good. Lily, open up my bag.”
Guilford glimpsed ammunition, binoculars, a hunting knife in a leather sheath.
Abby said, “Can’t we just — drive away?”
“Now that we’re here,” the frontiersman answered, “I don’t think they’d let us do that, Mrs. Law. But there’s more of us than they expected, and we’re better armed. So the odds aren’t bad. Come morning, we’ll look for a way out.”
Abby stiffened. “Oh, God… I’m so sorry!”
“Not your fault.”
Mine, Guilford thought.
Abby composed herself by devoting her attention to Nick: calming him, making a proper bed for him on the sofa, which Guilford had moved away from the door and into a corner of the room, back facing out. “A fort,” Nick called it. “A fine fort,” Abby told him.
She drew breath through clenched teeth and calculated the hours until morning. People outside want to hurt us, and they’ve cut the power and the telephone lines. We can’t leave and we can’t call for help and we can’t fight back…
Guilford took her aside, along with the young woman Tom Compton had brought to the house. As little as Guilford liked to talk about his past, Abby knew about his daughter, the daughter he had left in London twenty-five years ago. Abby recognized her even before Guilford said, “This is Lily.” Yes, obviously. She had the Law eyes, winter-morning blue, and the same fixed frown.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Abby said; then, realizing how it must sound, “I mean, I wish — under other circumstances—”
“I know what you mean,” Lily said gravely. “Thank you, Mrs. Law.”
And Abby thought: What do you know about the Old Men? Who let you in on their secrets? How much does Guilford know? Who’s out there in the dark wanting to kill my husband, my child?
No time for that now. These things had become luxuries: fear, anger, bewilderment, grief.
Nicholas looked up at his father’s face as Guilford straightened the blanket over him.
The candlelight made everything strange. The house itself seemed larger — emptier — as if it had expanded into the shadows. Nick knew something was very wrong, that the doors and windows were sealed against some threat. “Bad guys,” he had heard Tom Compton say. Which made Nick think of the movies. Claim jumpers, snake rustlers, burly men with dark circles around their eyes. Killers.
“Sleep if you can,” his father said. “We’ll settle this all up in the morning.”
Sleep was a long way off. Nick looked up at his father’s face with a feeling of loss that stabbed like a knife.
“Good night, Nick,” his father said, stroking his hair.
Nicholas heard, “Good-bye.”
Lily took the kitchen watch.
The house had two doors, front and rear, living room and kitchen. The kitchen was better defended, with its single small window and narrow door. The door was locked. The window was locked, too, but Lily understood that neither door nor window would present much of an obstacle to a determined enemy.