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Four

 

That night somebody stole my radio
and I had to do my own singing.

—Duane Locke,
Man's Relationship to his Self:
"SELF RELIANCE,"
BASED ON AN ESSAY BY EMERSON

 

Next day I read A Book of Five Rings, a book on Japanese swordplay by Miyamoto Musashi. It wasn't easy. The thing was kind of vague, and Ariel's complaining didn't help any.

"Will you hurry up and finish that thing?" she whined. I sat on the front steps of the library while she paced restlessly. The day was bright and clear; nobody on the streets, no sound save the occasional echo of a bird cry.

"Be quiet. Besides, when I finish this I'll just start another."

"Wonderful."

"Look, you refugee from a Disney flick, some of this stuff keeps me alive."

"I can't wait until noon."

An hour later I finished the book. I frowned at the cover, opened it again, and started over.

"Oh, shit," muttered Ariel.

I finished it again two hours later. I scratched my head. Either the translation was bad or I was missing something here.

"Why do you care?" asked Ariel, irritated at my perplexity. "You don't have a sword."

"A lot of other people do. The more I know about sword tactics the better I'll be able to handle myself against one if I have to. Besides, I get the feeling there's more going on in this book than I realize."

"Okay, okay—I didn't ask for a lecture. What time is it?"

I shrugged. "How would I know? Ten-thirty, eleven. You're the one with the clock inside her head." I looked up from the book. "You're really anxious to meet this Malachi character, aren't you?"

She cocked her head to the side, looking past me. "I have a feeling about him."

"Good feeling or bad?"

"I'm not sure. He feels . . . important."

I frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Nothing more than that. I just have a hunch about him."

I'd learned to trust her hunches; they tended to pay off. I left her alone about it, though, and continued reading until Chaffney came for us at noon. He wore the same leather jacket he'd worn yesterday, with no shirt underneath. Even without a shirt it must have been hot. It was unzipped most of the way, only a few inches holding it closed about his waist. Thick, black chest hair looked as if it were trying to grow its way out through the V-shaped opening. Perched on his right shoulder was Asmodeus, wearing a black hood. The letter "A" had been embroidered on it in red; he should have named her Hester Prynne.

Chaffney gently removed the hood and waited for a reaction when she saw Ariel, but the falcon merely cocked its head quizzically, blinking.

I put on my backpack and slung the Aero-mag.

"You don't have to take that," said Chaffney.

"Sorry. I go, it goes."

He shrugged.

I set Ariel's pack on her back, dangling one end of the nunchakus from an open pocket. I cocked the crossbow across my knee and set it in its strap on the side of the pack.

"Are you always this cautious?" asked Chaffney.

"Paranoid, you mean. Yeah, I guess so."

"Pete thinks of everything in terms of survival value," Ariel interjected.

"Keeps me alive."

"See?"

"Nothing wrong with that," said Chaffney, "as long as you don't get too carried away."

"I don't think I do. I'm still here, aren't I?"

He smiled. "You're young."

We left. On the way out, Ariel passed close by Chaffney and he reached up to pat her on the neck.

"Aah, shit!" He stomped around, flapping his hand.

"What's the matter?" I demanded.

He wrung his hand for about half a minute, wincing and biting his bottom lip. Ariel stood a good distance away from him, eyes blazing. I couldn't tell if she was angry, hurt, or both.

"Shit!" repeated Chaffney. He said it another dozen times.

"What's the matter?" I asked again when he'd calmed down.

"My hand."

No shit. I waited for him to go on.

"It feels like I shoved it into a fire. Christ, all I did was try to pat her on the neck!"

"You're not a virgin." I turned to Ariel. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I've never felt anything like that before." She sounded shaken. "So cold . . . like an icicle through my neck." Chaffney still nursed his hand. Whatever had happened to it, it looked all right. "Keep your hands off her," I said. "You aren't pure; you aren't fit to touch her. She's my Familiar.

Asmodeus, sensing the threat in my voice, screeched and spread her wings.

"Ease off, Pete," said Ariel. "He didn't mean anything by it."

Chaffney reached up and stroked Asmodeus to calm her. "Look, I'm sorry. Really. All I did was try to give her a friendly pat, the way anybody would if they were standing by a horse."

"She's not a horse."

"I know that. I forgot for a minute, okay? I won't do it again." He paused. I avoided his gaze. "Okay?" he repeated.

"Sure."

Ariel pawed at the library steps, striking sparks. "Come on, let's get moving."

We walked, Chaffney leading. None of us spoke. Every so often Chaffney reached up to stroke Asmodeus reassuringly. He didn't look back at us.

Ariel, walking on my right, kept her head inclined, watching the pavement flow beneath her. I heard her hooves as they touched the asphalt. Every now and then she looked up and gave me a curious, sideways glance. I frowned and looked away.

After twenty minutes of this I'd had enough. I caught up to Chaffney. He didn't say anything as I walked beside him. I checked a sudden desire to stroke Asmodeus' feathers—I realized my urge to touch his buddy was the same as his had been to touch Ariel. "I'm sorry," I said, adjusting the waistband on the backpack frame just to have something to do with my hands.

"Don't worry about it."

"All you did was try to pet her. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I don't know why I did."

He leaned his head forward so he could squint at me past Asmodeus. "No big deal. I understand."

I tried to apologize further but he interrupted. "It's all right," he said, glancing back at Ariel. "I understand."

 

* * *

 

We reached Malachi Lee's house around two-thirty. It was a medium-sized, wooden, two-story house in the middle of a residential block. The yard was small and well-kept—unusual in an age where power mowers wouldn't work. A black iron fence surrounded the yard. The vertical bars ended in sharp pikes. On six of the pikes at the left side of the fence were six human heads.

I tried to smile. "Intimidating."

"People who tried to take the house," said Chaffney.

"Cute," said Ariel. "Makes people think twice about trying the same thing."

"Doesn't that attract buzzards?" I asked.

"Maybe he thinks the deterrent value is worth it." Ariel glanced at me, black eyes soft. "Chin up, Pete."

The first three heads had been there long enough to be nothing more than clean-picked skulls. They reminded me of those statues on Easter Island, maybe because their empty eyes looked toward something I couldn't see. The fourth and fifth skulls were eaten half away, and the sixth had been put up recently. I guessed it had been there three or four days. Most of the features were still recognizable. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

Chaffney struck a bell on a post beside the gate.

"Look, he's probably busy," I said. "We really don't need to see him, anyway. It's not that important."

"Sure it is. He'll want to meet Ariel. You can talk to him about the Change."

"But what if he doesn't want to meet us?" I whispered to Ariel. She looked pointedly at the skulls on the fence. Great.

Chaffney rang the bell again. The front door opened and a man walked out, followed by an enormous black Chow. As they neared I saw the intelligent sparkle in the dog's eyes. It seemed to grin sloppily as its black tongue tolled.

Malachi Lee was tall and had black hair. He wore a black silk kimono. A samurai sword in a black lacquered sheath was thrust into the left side of the wide belt about his middle, blade up. It was a long, curved, two-handed sword with a dark green, twined grip. He dialed the padlock on the gate, opened it, and stepped through. The dog followed.

He stopped when he saw Ariel. I think I know some of what he felt. He was seeing her and nothing else. He walked around her, just looking her over. His face was impassive.

He stopped in front of her. "Well," he said.

I stood straighter, proud to be associated with something that took your breath away to see. And today Ariel was particularly breathtaking. Her coat glowed in the bright afternoon sun with a white almost painful to look at. Her horn shimmered like a fire opal in soft but fiery colors: greens, yellows, blues, reds, and oranges buried deep within the horn, fighting furiously to escape.

"Hello," Ariel said after a while.

Chaffney shifted. Malachi didn't notice. Chaffney cleared his throat. "Malachi, this is—"

"Quiet."

Chaffney shut up. Malachi Lee drew his sword. I jumped and started toward him, but a stern look from Ariel halted me.

"I am Malachi Lee," he said, holding up the sword. It flashed in the sun. He lay it carefully on the ground before Ariel's bright mirror hooves. "And I would consider it an honor to be at your service."

She looked carefully into his eyes. I felt a pang in the pit of my stomach—jealousy?

"I am Ariel," she said after a minute, and she touched the tip of her horn to the sword. "And I thank you."

Malachi Lee nodded. He retrieved the blade and sheathed it. It found its way back into the scabbard as though it had eyes of its own. He just looked at Ariel and she gazed quietly back, tail swishing, sending rainbow dots everywhere.

I coughed into my hand. Malachi Lee seemed to break from a pleasant daydream. "She's yours?" he asked, looking me up and down. Big Man On Campus sizes up wimpy date of prom queen.

"Uh, yes. That is, we're each other's. I'm Pete—"

He bowed a short bow and stepped forward with his hand extended. I shook it. Strong grip. Calluses like leather. The expression on his face was unreadable. "You're a very lucky person.

I felt my face turning red. "Why, thank you." I felt genuinely flattered and wasn't quite sure how to handle it. I looked at Ariel. Her eyes smiled back.

The falcon screeched and spread its wings. Malachi turned to her. "I hear you, Asmodeus." He looked at Chaffney for the first time. Both men had a distant, guarded look in their eyes. "She's living up to her name, I hope?"

Chaffney folded his arms. "She is, yes."

"Name?" I asked tentatively. Why did I feel there was more going on here than I knew?

Malachi turned back to me. "Yes, Asmodeus. Demon in Christian mythology. And Jewish. Had its roots in Persia. Asmodeus was the prince of the Revengers of Evil—for what that's worth—often portrayed as a winged man."

"Malachi named her when be cast the loyalty spell," supplied Chaffney. "He . . . asked a high price for her loyalty." He studied Malachi Lee levelly. "She was worth it. I've never regretted it." He unfolded his arms, and with that the strange tension seemed to melt away. "I thought you'd like to meet them," he said.

"Yes."

"They came into the city yesterday afternoon. Me, Emilio, and Harry were standing overpass watch on the east side. I'm afraid Emilio started getting ideas about her horn."

Malachi frowned. "That's not good." He looked at me. "You don't need any trouble from him. He's no trouble by himself, but he has too many friends. Let me know if he bothers you."

"Thanks, but I think I can take care of my own problems."

"Suit yourself. But the offer still stands."

The big Chow barked. Malachi bent and ruffled its thick fur. "Sorry, boy. Didn't mean to be rude. Pete, this is Faust, faithful companion and partner in hard times."

"Hi," I said, half-indulgently.

Faust barked once.

"Did you cast his loyalty spell?" I asked.

For a moment he looked angry. "No one did," he said. "We're friends." He patted the dog again. "Faust, this is Ariel. She's a unicorn, and as long as you know her I want you to treat her and guard her as you would me."

I thought that was a strange thing to say, but the dog barked once to Malachi and again to Ariel. She woofed once in return. I cast her a sidelong glance—I don't know if she really spoke dog-ese or if she was just humoring our host.

"Ariel's a good name," said Malachi. "Did you pick it?"

"Yes. I liked it."

"Shakespeare would have loved it."

I shot him a puzzled look.

His eyebrows crept up. "I thought that's where you got it. Shakespeare. The Tempest. Ariel was a magical character."

"Oh." I felt stupid. "I saw it on a book with a picture of a unicorn on the cover. I thought it fit her."

"Oh, it fits her, all right. Come inside." He shook his head wonderingly. "I'd like to find out what it's like to be the Familiar of a unicorn." He turned and held the gate open for us. Faust, Chaffney and Asmodeus, Ariel, and I—a dog, a leather-jacketed man with a falcon on his shoulder, a unicorn, and a twenty-year-old virgin—walked into the yard. Malachi locked the gate behind us and caught up to Russ. He extended his arm. "Do you mind?"

Russ spread his hands. "Go ahead." He shrugged his right shoulder and Asmodeus flapped onto Malachi's proffered arm. He stroked her head with a finger. "Faust—you two go play."

The bird flapped from Malachi's arm and sped across the yard, flying close to the ground. Barking, Faust ran after her.

I shook my head. What a day.

 

* * *

 

The front door was rigged to kill anybody who walked in after it was armed. The door opened outward. Tied to the inside knob was a string that turned a corner round a pulley, went through the trigger of a loaded Wildcat crossbow, and was secured on a nail driven low into the wall. The bolt was aimed belly-level at the door. Once it was opened, the string tautened, the trigger pulled, the bolt flew, and there was a body on the front porch. There was no way you'd be able to slam the door or duck in time.

"What if somebody stays behind the door when they open it?" I asked. "The bolt'll hit it and they'll just come on in."

"Faust is my watchdog at night." He reset the string on the knob after we were inside. "He usually stays in the yard. Anybody in front of that door has to deal with him first. You can see the iron grillwork set in the windows. There's no other way in; all other doors have been bolted shut and reinforced from the inside."

"What if somebody kills Faust and comes in? It could happen, you know."

"Then they'll have me to deal with."

"What if you're asleep?"

"I'm a light sleeper."

"Oh."

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