She knew how cold that sounded, but she couldn't help it. This was the only way she could deal with any of what had happened and what might yet come.
"She was dead, Carol. But she got up and saved you and your baby from your aunt. That wasn't Emma in Emma's body. It was someone else—something else. What's going on here?"
Something wants to kill my baby; and something else is trying to protect it!
This was the first time she had allowed the idea to put itself into words, and the bald truth of it terrified her. But the truth was there, staring at her, and she had to face it.
And she had to choose sides.
There was a monstrous struggle going on, and she seemed to be at the heart of it. She dreaded the thought of which side of that struggle might be protecting her child. But no matter what the nature of her ally, there was no question with which side she would align herself.
She would choose for her baby, now and forever.
"I don't know what's going on, Bill. All I know is that my baby was threatened, and now he's been saved. That's all I care about at the moment."
"I care about that too," he said. "But I've got to know more." Another glance over his shoulder at Jonah. "I bet he knows more than he's saying."
"Maybe he does. Maybe he'll tell me." Although she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"We're being used," Bill said suddenly.
Carol didn't let him see that she instantly knew exactly what he meant.
She said, "I don't understand."
"Jim, you, me, Grace, Emma, that monk, even Jonah over there—I don't know it but I feel it: We've all been used like pawns in some sort of game. And the game's not over yet."
"No," she said with leaden certainty. "It's not."
Suddenly she felt another of those inexplicable bursts of rage at him. Run out of facile rationalizations, smart ass? The words very nearly escaped her before she bit them back.
The loudspeaker announced the last call for passengers to board the Eastern flight to Atlanta.
"Gotta go," she said quickly, forcing good feelings for Bill to the surface. "Tell the police whatever you know, or as much as you dare."
"I guess this is good-bye, then," Bill said. "Let me hear from you once in a while, to know that you're safe."
He reached for her hand, but she embraced him instead, kissing him on the cheek.
"I'll be in touch."
And she would. She fully intended to return to New York sporadically for brief periods to answer any police questions about the three corpses in the mansion and to settle any problems regarding the estate. Once the baby was born, she was going to use Jim's inherited fortune to insulate their child from any and all outside threats. She would make the money grow, and one day it would all go to him.
Turning, she hurried to join Jonah where he waited by the boarding ramp.
Twenty-four
1
The setting sun had gained some borrowed time up here, miles in the air. It shone redly through the oval window at her shoulder. Jonah sat on her left, head back, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap. He could have been either dozing or praying. Carol doubted it was either.
She allowed herself to relax just a little. She let her shoulders sag to ease the tension in them but kept her hands balled into fists. The Chosen were below and behind her. She and the baby were up here, out of their reach. Things were under control for the moment.
Suddenly she felt a chill. A frozen, crystalline locus was expanding deep within her, sucking the heat from her tissues. Quickly it grew, taking her over, radiating icy malevolence. It coursed through her limbs. Sheer viciousness shot from her, streaking outward and down, bathing the globe below.
2
Below and to the south, in Memphis, a burly white man watches Martin Luther King speaking on the news. He doesn't listen to the words. He doesn't have to. Always the same damn thing. He hates these uppity niggers making trouble everywhere, especially in the South, hates all of them, but most of all he hates this one with his Nobel Peace prize and his ability to get his face on the TV screen and into everybody's home whenever he wants.
And now, in this instant, the man decides that he's had all he can take. He ain't gonna sit back and grouse any more like some pissant wimp. He's gonna do something about it.
He goes to the closet, pulls out his rifle, and begins to clean it.
3
Far to the east, in Bengal, a one-armed man who is far older than he looks suddenly dreams of the burned ruins of an ancient temple and decides, despite his many numerous futile attempts in the past, to search once more for a large mottled egg that may lie hidden there.
4
To the west, in Los Angeles, a Jordanian student watches once more the news footage of Robert F. Kennedy announcing his intention to seek the presidential nomination of the Democratic Party. He has searched the channels all day, watching the footage over and over. It seems amazing and somehow sinful to him that a man would seek the same post as his assassinated brother. A half-formed plan abruptly coalesces into firm determination.
He forms his hand into the shape of a gun and points the finger-barrel at the grinning image of RFK. His voice is barely a whisper. "Bang bang."
5
Farther to the west, in Indochina, an ancient primordial force, known to the locals as Dat-tay-vao, begins a slow, meandering journey that will bring it halfway around the world to the United States.
Interlude on Central Park West—III
Mr. Veilleur stares out his apartment window at the growing darkness, thinking.
The Chosen have failed. He doesn't need to call anyone to know that. He has sensed the burgeoning strength of his ancient enemy, and that is enough. The enemy is leaving for now, and the woman carrying him is alerted and will be on guard. He will be born, and with no one to oppose him, his power will grow. With luck he will not 'realize that he is unopposed, so he will remain cautious. The world will be safe until he grows to manhood.
Mr. Veilleur turns and glances at his wife, busy setting the table for Sunday dinner.
And then he'll come for us—but mostly for me.
For himself, he doesn't care much. He has lived long enough. But what of the world? What of the horrors the enemy will bring about when he comes of age?
Ah, well. That will be someone else's problem. And it will be a couple of decades hence. Maybe he and the wife will be lucky.
Maybe they'll be dead by then.
Epilogue
As suddenly as it had begun, the dark radiance diminished, shrinking to a cold, tight, hard little knot, and then it was gone. Carol shuddered.
Oh God, what's happening to me?
She looked at Jonah. She found him staring at her, smiling and nodding, his eyes aglow.
"I…I have to go to the bathroom," she said. She was feeling weak and nauseated. She didn't want to be sick on the floor.
He hopped out of his seat and stood in the aisle to let her by. As she rose, the cabin seemed to spin around her. A passing stewardess reached for her outstretched hand to steady her, but Carol pulled it away and clenched it into a fist between her breasts. She wasn't letting anyone touch her hands until she'd had a chance to shave off the fine little hairs she had found sprouting from her palms a few hours ago.