Выбрать главу

“We may not have that time,” said Grey.

“We don’t,” said Jenny with certainty. When Grey glanced up he saw that her expression had changed again. The cocksure smile was gone and in its place was a far more serious expression. It was not the first time he’d seen that shift. Something about it worried him. It made him wonder if these events were pushing her over some kind of mental edge. When she spoke, even her voice was slightly different. Softer. “Deray is coming,” she said. “Make no mistake. He is coming for us all.”

All three men looked at her, and from the expressions on their faces it was clear they were as startled as he was by her change of mood.

“What… makes you so sure, Jenny?” asked Looks Away.

Her response was delayed as if she didn’t hear at first. Then she walked over to the window and looked out into the empty barnyard. “He’s coming,” she repeated.

Then as if a shadow that had been blocking the sun moved off to another part of her internal sky, she straightened and turned, and her devilish smile was back. “And let the bastard come, too.”

No one spoke for a moment. Looks Away cleared his throat.

Grey nodded and walked over to study the big map on the wall. Every detail of the landscape was carefully marked in Saint’s careful hand.

“We are substantially short on manpower, firepower, and resources,” said Doctor Saint. “If we are going to survive this, we need a plan.”

“All right,” said Grey without turning. “Let’s make one.”

“You have something in mind, old boy?” asked Looks Away.

Grey turned. “Yeah, I do. It’s risky, it’s crazy it’ll probably get us all killed, and I can guarantee you’re not going to like it.”

“Now there’s a sales pitch for you,” said the Sioux.

“Tell us,” said Jenny.

He did.

It was risky and crazy. And they didn’t like it.

But they all agreed that it was their best — and perhaps only—chance.

Chapter Seventy-Seven

They worked all through the last hours of that day and into the night. Jenny got the blacksmith and a tinker to act as apprentices to Doctor Saint, while Looks Away and Grey oversaw the building of barriers and defenses.

At one point, well after midnight, as Grey was directing men to stack flour sacks filled with sand along the road into town, Looks Away asked, “You’re sure this Deray will come to us?”

“Yeah,” said Grey. “We killed his worm.”

“That’s hardly enough. It’s unlikely he’s all that sentimental about his pets.”

“Of course not, but think about it. You think it was just coincidence that Lucky Bob and that worm were waiting for us? Deray had to have found out that we were down there. Hell, we left enough corpses behind. Those big lizard birds—.”

“Pteranodons.”

“Whatever. That cat with the big fangs.”

“Smilodon.”

“And those chicken lizards.”

“Velociraptors.”

“Looks — I swear to God you are the most pedantic son of a bitch I ever met.”

“Benefits of a classical education,” said the Sioux.

They grinned at each other.

Grey hefted another sandbag and thumped it down chest high on the barrier. “Besides, Lucky Bob may not be as dead as we’d like him to be. I kind of think he picked himself back up and scampered off to tell his master about Doctor Saint’s big ol’ cannon. So — do I think they’re coming? Sure. I’m just surprised they’re not here already.”

Everyone worked until they were ready to drop.

Grey finally staggered back to Jenny’s place in the black hour before dawn. He washed in the kitchen washtub and shambled off to find the couch. However there was no blanket or pillow. Instead there was a folded piece of paper lying on the center of the cushion. He picked it up, opened it, and read the single word written in a flowing feminine hand.

Upstairs

Grey smiled and put the note into his shirt pocket.

Then, still smiling, he climbed the stairs.

Her door was ajar and the soft yellow glow of a single candle showed him the way. He went inside very quietly.

Jenny stood with her back to him, looking out at the last of the night’s stars. The pale silver light shone through her nightgown, revealing curves and planes and ripeness.

“Jenny—?” he said quietly, but she shook her head.

“The night is almost over,” she murmured. Her voice was so soft, so distant. Cold and sad and filled with pain.

Unsure of what to do, Grey stood there, not fully inside the room.

“Grey—?” she murmured. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, and he found that he meant it even though there were things he never wanted to talk about.

“Annabelle,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Do you still love her?”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Yes.”

She nodded and turned slightly so that her profile was etched in silver fire. “You’re a good man for admitting that,” she said. “She was lucky to have you.”

“She died because I wasn’t good enough as a man.”

He thought he saw her mouth curl softly. A ghost of a ghost of a smile. Then she reached up and unfastened her gown and let it fall. It drifted like snow around her ankles.

“Jenny,” he began, “you should—.”

“No,” she said in a whisper. “No more words. I’m so cold. Make me warm.”

And he came to her and carried her to the bed. Around them the night was vast and tomorrow was a threat. But he held her close and for a while — just a while — the night and all its terrors went away.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Morning dawned cold and bright, but there were storm clouds on the horizon. To Grey it looked like the gods of war were sending a message that lacked all subtlety. The distant thunderheads were thick and bruise-colored and far above them dark birds drifted in slow circles. They might have been vultures but Grey had his doubts. They could have been pterosaurs, which meant Deray was definitely coming.

Grey stood on Jenny’s porch, watching the birds and the clouds and trying not to be afraid of what was coming. He wore two gun belts strapped low across his lean hips. His Colt was on his left side with the handle reversed so he could snatch it with a fast cross-draw; and on his right hip was the Lazarus pistol. It was fully loaded with a ten-shot barrel magazine, and extra magazines were clipped to the belt. Grey felt awkward carrying the thing because it neither looked nor felt like a real gun, but if it was anything like the Kingdom rifle, then looks were truly deceiving.

The door opened and Looks Away came out holding two steaming cups of coffee. He handed one to Grey and they stood for a moment looking out at the clouds. It was going to turn dark soon and Grey hoped they’d all live to see the bright sunshine again.

“An east wind is coming,” observed Looks Away, intruding into Grey’s morose thoughts as the Sioux nodded toward the storm. “Poetic, if a trifle obvious.”

Grey answered with a sour grunt.

“You’re certainly cheerful,” said Looks Away. “Not enough sleep?”

“We should have packed all these people up and gotten the hell out of here while we had the chance.”

“If you want to play that game, old chap, then I should have stayed in London. There’s far less ghost rock over there and, last time I checked, no living-dead dinosaurs or metal giants and only one quite foul necromancer that I know of. But, alas, I’m not in sodding England and we didn’t sodding well leave town, so…”