Quicksilver

Chapter 32

Owen went to the end of the street and rounded the corner into the narrow lane that bordered the graveyard. The gas lamps were few and far between now, but he scarcely noticed the deeper darkness. His senses were slightly elevated, as they always were when he walked the night. He registered the small sounds and the shifts in the shadows around him without consciously thinking about it.

The hunter in him was on the prowl, searching for the spoor of the monsters, but he was aware that something was different tonight. He did not feel driven by the relentless compulsion that had been riding him so hard in the past year. The obsessive need to hunt had faded to a normal level or, rather, a level that felt normal for a Sweetwater. The men of his line would never be wholly civilized, he thought. But it was good to regain a sense of balance and perspective, good to be able to ignore, for now, at any rate, the terrible allure of the abyss of night that had been calling to him for months.

And, yes, it was good to feel this pleasantly euphoric, if unfamiliar, sense of well-being. Virginia had given him back his future, although she did not realize it yet.

Virginia.She was his talisman. The bond between them gave him the power not only to resist the dark forces that had been drawing him toward the edge but to control them once more.

He had to admit that Matt had a point, though.I'm botching the job of explaining the Sweetwater bond to her.

He would have to come up with a better way of making sure that she understood their relationship. Although when he thought about the situation closely he could not comprehend the exact nature of the problem. Virginia was obviously attracted to him. There could be no doubt about the depths of their mutual passion. She was as warm and sweet as melted honey in his arms. Women were supposed to be especially sensitive to powerful emotions. Where the devil was he going wrong?

He sensed the faint shift in the atmosphere between one step and the next, a subtle whisper of heightened energy. The hunter in him pricked up his senses. There was another strong talent abroad tonight, close at hand.

He did not change his pace. He was too experienced to give any outward indication that he had picked up the telltale signals of the other's presence. Nevertheless, his senses flashed into full strength. He knew he was giving off a lot of hot energy. If the other sensitive was paying attention, he or she would surely realize that there was another talent in the vicinity.

It was not uncommon to encounter a stranger on the street who possessed a measurable degree of talent. But passing someone who was unusually powerful was a relatively rare experience. There were not that many high-level talents around. He could not afford to assume that this encounter was a coincidence, not when it was taking place so close to Virginia's address.

He studied the lane without appearing to do so. There was no one else visible. That meant that the other talent was probably concealed behind one of the ancient stone monuments or in the crypt up ahead.

The crypt,he decided.That's the place I would choose for an ambush.

He kept walking, waiting for his quarry to leap out of the shadows. He heard the faint rush of movement from the yawning darkness of the crypt a few heartbeats before the figure swept toward him. The preternatural speed and the certainty with which the attacker moved in the darkness told him everything he needed to know. He was dealing with a strong hunter-talent.

Although he was not a true hunter when it came to his physical abilities, he understood their nature and their talent, having grown up in a family littered with the breed. When they were in their full senses, their night vision was excellent and they moved with the speed and agility of wolves. He could not hope to match his attacker in those attributes, but he was not without resources. The critical thing was to make certain the other man did not get close enough to use his greater speed and strength against him.

He was prepared for the swiftness of the other man's movements. It was like confronting a charging wolf. What he did not expect was the blinding flash of paranormal fire.

It was as if a paranormal sun had struck a mirror. The night burned around him, searing his senses. He was engulfed in a blinding radiance.

His heart pounded. A terrible chill spread through his veins, icing his blood. He fell, landing hard on his hands and knees. It was all he could do not to collapse on the cold pavement.

He knew then that he was dying.

"Virginia," he whispered. The thought of never seeing her again was intolerable, but far worse was the knowledge that he was leaving her in grave danger. He had failed her.

"Virginia," he said again, louder this time.

It seemed to him that the cold brilliance faded ever so slightly around him, as if the simple act of saying Virginia's name had temporarily driven back the forces that had blinded him psychically and were now killing him.

The unnatural radiance moved closer to him. Although his paranormal abilities were gone, he realized he could still make out the crypt and the gravestones to his left. He could feel the pavement beneath his hands. He could hear the echo of the killer's boots on the pavement. He was rapidly losing his strength, but he still had his normal senses.

"My client wants you dead, Sweetwater." The voice came from the darkness beyond the senses-dazzling light. "But there is no great rush. I haven't had a job like this in a while. I'm going to take my time."

"Who hired you?" Owen managed.

"He called himself Newton, but I doubt that's his real name. Seemed to know a lot about you, though. He said you're a talent. Told me where I could find you. He knew all about your whore in Garnet Lane, you see."

"He gave you that device you used to blind me?"

"He called it the Quicksilver Mirror. Told me it was valuable and that he'd want it back as soon as I finished with you. But between you and me, I plan to keep it. Right handy, it is."

"Did he tell you why he wants me dead?"

"Doesn't seem to like you very much. I got the impression that you're standing in the way of something he wants."

Owen felt himself growing colder. His vision and hearing started to dim. The energy of the mirror was affecting his normal senses now.

"He gave you the mirror because he knew you couldn't take me with just your talent alone," he said.

"That's a bloody damn lie." Outraged by the insult, the hunter moved closer. "I could kill you before you take another breath. I don't need this mirror to finish you off."

Owen gathered what was left of his strength. It took almost everything he had, but he managed to move his hand back to his ankle. His fingers touched the sheath strapped to his leg.

"You're burning a lot of energy keeping that mirror hot," he rasped. "You're exhausting your talent."

"Unlike you, I've got plenty to spare," the hunter snarled.

The paranormal brilliance was definitely fainter now. The hunter did not realize how much energy he was using to wield the mirror. He was too excited, too focused on the thrill of the kill. Emotions were always the enemy when it came to this sort of thing, Owen thought.

"You're definitely weakening," Owen said. "You won't be able to finish this."

"Let's find out," the hunter growled.

The blinding paranormal radiance flashed once more, sending another searing wave of energy across Owen's senses. In the next instant the terrible light winked out like a gas lamp that had been turned down.

"Damn thing is broken," the hunter said. "But I told you, I don't need it."

"Not broken. You don't have enough strength left to focus it."

"Bastard.I'll show you who is weak."

The hunter hurled the mirror aside. It clanged on the paving stones. Owen was vaguely aware that he did not hear the sound of glass breaking, but there was no time to analyze the implications.

The hunter rushed toward him, moonlight glinting on the knife in his hand. He was not nearly as fast as he had been at the start of the confrontation. He had used too much energy controlling the paranormal weapon. But he was still quick and savage, still enraged.

Freed of the pressure of the mirror, Owen could breathe freely again. But when he tried to heighten his talent he got no response.

He yanked the knife out of the ankle sheath. The hunter reached for him, intending to lock him in a choke hold and secure him for the killing slash across the throat.

Owen twisted onto his side, managing just barely to avoid the hunter's hand. He brought the knife up in the same instant, felt it sink deep into flesh.

The hunter grunted, recovering his balance with startling speed, and leaped back. The quick action caused him to pull free of the knife. Blood gushed forth from his chest.

For a split second, the hunter did not seem to comprehend what had happened. He looked down at the blood spraying out of his body, and then he raised his head to stare at Owen.

"No," he said. "No, it's not possible. You're not a hunter."

"You should not have called her a whore," Owen said softly. "In my family we do not allow anyone to insult our women."

The hunter stared, horrified and bewildered, for another second. He crumpled to the pavement.

Dragging in a lungful of air, Owen called on what was left of his resources to haul himself to his feet. It took just about everything he had left to stagger the short distance to the body. He knew before he checked for a pulse that the hunter was dead, but he crouched down and put his fingers on the man's throat. When it came to their work, Sweetwaters were always thorough.

He heard the others in the lane, but his head was spinning now. He tried to focus. One man, he decided, moving very fast,hunter-fast.

"Uncle Owen, are you all right?" Matt stopped at the sight of the body. "What happened?"

Alarm slashed through Owen. "You left Virginia alone?"

"What? No, sir, of course not. Tony is with her. She couldn't keep up with us, so they sent me on ahead. They'll be along any moment now."

"What the devil? You allowed her out of the house?"

"Couldn't stop her, sir. She said you were in terrible danger. Said we had to find you. Insisted on coming with us. He looked at the body. "Who is this?"

"Hunter- talent. Someone named Newton gave him a commission to kill me."

"Bloody hell." Matt surveyed him with concern. "Looks like he came close. Are you all right?"

Owen ignored the question. He was on the verge of passing out. He had to stay focused awhile longer.

"Make sure you get the weapon," he said.

"What weapon?"

"I don't know what it is. Never got a good look at it. He called it the Quicksilver Mirror. I heard him drop it on the pavement."

Owen turned to search the darkened street. The small movement cost him his balance. A great gray fog was enveloping his mind. He would have gone down to his knees if Matt hadn't caught his arm.

With Matt's help he made his way the short distance to the weapon. It resembled a lady's hand mirror of the sort one might see on a dressing table. It was lying facedown on the paving stones. He started to lean over to pick it up and spotted the black velvet bag nearby.

"Hand me that sack," he said.

Matt scooped up the bag and gave it to him. Owen crouched and gingerly picked up the mirror. He thought he felt a faint shiver of energy when his fingers closed around the handle, but his mind was so muddled now and his senses so unresponsive that he could not be certain. Careful to keep the glass aimed downward, he inserted the artifact into the velvet sack and tightened the strip of leather that bound it shut.

He reeled again when he tried to get to his feet. More footsteps sounded in the lane. He turned his head very cautiously, afraid he might humiliate himself by fainting dead away. His vision blurred, but he saw two people running toward him. Well, Virginia was running, he thought. Tony was loping casually alongside.

"Owen." Virginia rushed forward. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said automatically. Then he realized that was not true. "No."

"What?"

"Never mind." He thrust the velvet bag into her hand. "Take this. It's a weapon of some kind, a looking glass. The nature of your talent means that you are probably more qualified to handle it than any of the rest of us. But be very, very careful. It has blinded my senses, perhaps permanently."

"No," she said. "They will revive."

He smiled a little at her fierceness and opened his arms to fold her close. But the black night closed in and began to seep through him.

Somewhere in the darkness he heard Virginia calling his name, speaking to him in that same bracing tone.

"I will not let you go, Owen Sweetwater. Do you hear me? You must not leave. I will not allow you to leave. Hold on to me."

He thought he sensed her hand gripping his, but her voice grew fainter as he sank down into the bottomless depths. In the end all was darkness.