When Louie stopped suddenly, the man froze. Had he been heard? He stilled his own breathing, then understood what Louie was hearing. It was the music. This is just one busy area, he thought as Louie continued on his way. The scene with the woman down by the road. The music. Fucceri showing up. Not to mention what had brought him here himself.
The car returned then, making his decision for him. He melted farther back into the trees and watched Louie get in. The car turned around and drove off, and the man returned to his van, listening to the quiet until another spill of eerie music slipped across it, fey and distant.
Cradling the crossbow, he leaned against a tree. That music… There was something in it…something… He shook his head. He could almost understand what it was saying to him, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. It was like it was talking to him personally, and while he’d never had any second thoughts about who he was or what he did with his life, he had the feeling that the music was trying to tell him that he should.
14
Lily stayed to keep Lewis company by the old stone after the other villagers had left the glade. Lewis wasn’t surprised. They were old friends and he appreciated her presence. It helped him concentrate on something other than the downward spiral of his thoughts that tonight’s events had set into motion, making him feel his years more than usual. What did surprise him, however, was that Tommy Duffin had stayed as well.
Tommy sat, half-hidden by the base of the standing stone, Gaffa lying near his knee. He would have been invisible, and then forgotten, if he didn’t lip his reed-pipes from time to time, sending a few bars of a sad air across the glade, which lingered, faded and then were gone, until he started the cycle over again.
Such a sound, Lewis thought, hearing the piping tonight as though for the first time again. It was this that they had heard in Arcadia, a music like this, when the world was young, but the forests already old. The mystery seemed close when the music played. Surely he was hidden by the low-hanging branches of the nearest trees, or in the spill of briars and bushes that grew thick on the slope behind the stone. He’d be a Green Man, a stag, a goatman, a boar—whatever shape he chose, or in no shape at all—but he was near. Or was it just the music? Lewis wondered. Just the glade that knew him so well, some trick of the stone, or was the mystery returning? Had he lost the hounds and was now bringing Mally and the girl back?
Lewis was held by the hope in the music, the promise of it, until Tommy brought the pipes away from his lips and laid them on his lap. Then the ghost of Ackerly Perkin returned to torment Lewis with its talk of illusions and lies, all tied together with just enough truth and a certain logic to make it difficult for Lewis to decide what was real and what was not.
Do what you will shall be the whole of the law. When Crowley spoke the words, they contained too much self in them. There was not enough thought of the world as a whole. And yet, an individual was important, as an individual. Lewis believed that. It was what an individual brought to the world, what an individual gave to the mystery that mattered. But if it was all illusion—
Lily laid her hand on his, bringing him abruptly from his thoughts. “He seems near, doesn’t he?” she said. “That special presence of him is so close.”
Tommy was playing once more—only breathing across the pipes, but it was enough to send a soft thread of sound across the glade and out, beyond its boundaries, into the forest and the night. This had to be real, Lewis thought. It was no illusion that had leapt off into the darkness, bearing away Mally and the girl. If something had substance, then it couldn’t be illusion, could it? But where did it start? the pinprickle whisper of Ackerly Perkin’s voice asked, harsh in Lewis’s ear. If it all began with illusion, what was it now?
“I love it when it’s like this,” Lily said. “I love to feel his mystery without that pack of black monks snapping at his heels.”
Lewis regarded her. “That’s how you see them? As monks?”
“As monks…or as priests.” Lily shrugged. “The Hounds of God. I can remember the first time you told me about what the Church did to the mystery. The one they called Jesus—the Green Man they hung from a tree in the desert. How St. Paul took the mystery and twisted it to make a religion of intolerance and self-torment. That’s how I still see the pack. As St. Paul’s dogs, still trying to trap the mystery with their lies.”
“I said that?” Lewis asked, remembering the conversation he’d had earlier that day with his guests. Had his questioning and confusion driven him so far astray that it took someone else to remind him of what he’d once believed without questioning?
“Yes, you did, Lewis,” Lily said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Are they real, then?”
“What? The hounds?”
Lewis nodded.
“Hate’s still real, isn’t it? And intolerance?”
Lewis nodded again.
“Well,” Lily said, “so long as they exist, there will always be hounds. Something will always chase down the Green Man. You told me that, too.”
“And the mystery?” Lewis asked. “What of him?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Lewis.”
“Is he still real?”
Lily tried to study his features, but it was too dark to make them out. “What are you saying, Lewis? That we’ve imagined the mystery?”
Lewis sighed. “I don’t know anymore. I think I’ve filled my head up with too many words. I’ve learned too much, tried to capture with logic something that only exists outside of it.”
“You always told me that it was how we took our knowledge from the world that shaped us,” Lily said. “That there was a glory in reaching out to touch the mystery with our minds as well as our spirits.”
“But it can’t be understood.”
“That doesn’t make trying to a waste of time.” Lily smiled and took his hand. “Isn’t this strange?” she said. “Here I am using your own arguments against you. But then I don’t think this is between you and me at all, Lewis. It’s between the man you once were and the man you are now.”
“Which one is right?”
“I don’t know, Lewis. All I know is that the mystery belongs to everyone.”
Lewis nodded. “I agree. But there’s no other place for him except for here. And maybe not even here anymore.”
“Then we’ve got to make a place for him.”
“And if we fail to do that?” Lewis asked. “Then what? What’s he going to do out there in the world? Nobody wants him out there.”
Lily smiled. “I think you’ve got to give him more credit than that,” she said. “We’re not talking about some buck deer, Lewis. We’re talking about something that makes the forests shiver when he walks by.”
“Now you sound like Mally. She thinks we should have more people in New Wolding if we want to keep him nearby. And if we don’t, that we should just let him run free.”
“I don’t think that’s our decision to make,” Lily said. “We may think we’re deciding what to do with him, but I’m sure the mystery just does whatever he does.”
Do what you will, Lewis thought with a shiver. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going at all.
“I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore,” he said.
“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Lily said. “You didn’t used to worry so much, Lewis. Don’t you remember how much happier you were then?”
“Everything seemed simpler then.”
“Things haven’t changed, Lewis. The outside world’s still outside, and we’re still here. The dogs chase the stag, and then the stag chases them. It all balances out in the end.”
She couldn’t see it, Lewis thought. Something was changing the stag. It was drawn to outsiders—like Tony Garonne and the young girl that it had borne away with Mally tonight. Things were changing. But maybe it wasn’t fair of him to point that out to Lily. Maybe they were just changing for him.
He turned to try and explain himself one more time, but then Tommy began to play. As
the music filled Lewis it drained away his questions and worries, left room inside him for the mystery and nothing more. When Tommy laid the pipes aside again, Lily squeezed Lewis’s hand.
“He’ll come back,” she said. “And he’ll bring both Mally and the girl back with him. You might ask him, straight out, Lewis. Or you might ask Mally.”
Lewis nodded. Or he could ask the girl. Would she know? Whatever the stag and Mally saw in her, she was still a young girl. Brighter than average, though he was judging her by New Wolding’s standards. Maybe they were turning them out smarter in the world beyond the village. But she didn’t talk in riddles. Maybe she’d be able to explain it to him when she returned. If she returned.
“He’ll bring them back,” Lily said again, as though reading his thoughts. “You’ll see.”
Lewis looked from her to the shadow that was Tommy Duffin, sitting at the base of the old stone. Although he wasn’t playing the pipes just now, Tommy looked thin and fey-eyed in the moonlight, as though he weren’t Tommy Duffin yet, but still the Piper. He met Lewis’s gaze and a smile flickered in his too-bright eyes. Then he lifted the pipes once again.
15
Bannon settled on one of the sofas by the window when they got back to Valenti’s place and watched Valenti pace back and forth across the room.
“C’mon,” he said finally. “Settle down. You’re going to burn yourself out and then when we need you, you won’t be there.”
Valenti frowned, but he came to sit down. He was burning up energy. Angry, worried, he just couldn’t sit still.
“The leg giving you problems?” Bannon asked.
Reflexively, Valenti rubbed his leg. “Yeah. I got a couple of steel pins in there holding some of the bones together. The leg was a real mess by the time I got it to a doctor. He did what he could, but…” Valenti shrugged. “It aches in the damp, and sometimes when I overdo things it starts to act up, you know what I mean?”
Bannon nodded. They sat quietly for a long moment, then Valenti spoke again.
“What am I going to tell her momma, Tom? Fercrissakes, she’s going to be here any minute to pick her up, and then what?”
The phone rang before Bannon could reply. “I’ll get it,” he said.
* * *
Howie walked slowly around Frankie’s living room, taking in the furnishings, the books and knick-knacks. The place’d look a hell of a lot different if it were his and he had her kind of money. That was for sure. He wondered what Earl would think if he could see Howie here in his ex’s house, being asked in, being one of the good guys, fercrissake. Maybe he could go pick up the kid from Valenti’s, snatch her, make a play for the money himself.
Howie could just feel that things were turning around for him. He had a woman being nice to him and it wasn’t costing him a cent. He was on his own and no one was sniggering behind his back. He could do it. He could snatch the kid, if it weren’t for Valenti. Valenti would recognize him from last night. Howie didn’t doubt that. Too bad, though. Wouldn’t it be a laugh, maybe handing Earl some of the money, because—well, hell—it had been his idea. Then he thought of Earl, of how his eyes got, the way he just blew away that Goldman guy… Howie’s pleasure drained from him.
Just then Sherry came down the stairs with Frankie.
“How are you feeling?” Lisa asked, standing up from the couch.
“A lot better,” Frankie said. “But if you hadn’t come when you did…”
Lisa smiled and waved a hand breezily between them. “That’s just the kind of people we are,” she said. “Scouring the backroads, looking for people in distress.”
The shock of breaking up the rape and the subsequent excitement had brought them all down, but while Sherry was cleaning Frankie up, Lisa and Howie had gone outside for a joint. They were both buzzed again.
Frankie lifted a hand and gingerly touched her throat. “Still…” she said. Her voice was a little husky.
“You’re going to be all right,” Sherry said. “But once we pick up your daughter…well, I don’t think it’d be such a good idea for you to stay here on your own. If that guy comes back…” Frankie shuddered and Sherry took her by the arm. “C’mon. You’d better sit down. Now what’s the number where your daughter’s staying?”
Christ, Howie thought. I hope they don’t want me to go pick up the kid. He looked at Frankie, really looked at her for the first time since he’d seen her on the hood of the car. She was sure some looker. He wondered why Earl had ever dumped a woman that looked that good. If she were his, he’d never let her go. No way.
Feeling his stare, Frankie’s gaze lifted to meet his. Howie started to look away, then found a smile instead. What did he have to be nervous about? He just wished she wouldn’t look at him with that hurt look. Christ, it wasn’t like he’d tried to jump her or anything. Maybe she just didn’t like men or something. He wanted to look away but found himself caught by her gaze. Then Sherry made the phone connection and Frankie looked over at her as she began to speak.
“Hello? Yes, I’d like to speak to Alice Treasure please. No. I’m calling for her mother. My name’s Sherry Mallon. Just a minute.” Sherry put her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Frankie. “He wants to talk to you. He sounded sort of…I don’t know. Strange.”
Frankie shook her head. “Oh, God. He probably thinks you’re involved with my ex. He tried to kidnap Ali last night.”
Sherry’s eyes widened. “Was that him again tonight?”
“Oh, no. That’s one thing Earl’s never had to do—force a woman. They usually crawl all over him.” She reached for the receiver. “Here, let me talk to him.”
Sherry handed her the phone, but her gaze went to Howie, who looked guiltily away.
“Hello, Tony?” Frankie said into the phone. “Oh, it’s you, Tom. I was just— No, I’m fine. Well, there was a little bit of trouble…. No, please don’t. There are some people here who helped me out and are willing to go pick up Ali. No, it’s really not necessary. No, it was no big thing. Please. Well, all right. Yes, thanks.”
She looked at Sherry as she hung up. “He’s coming down.”
“Who is?” Howie asked, a little sharply. That drew another look from Sherry.
“Tony’s friend Tom,” Frankie replied.
Sherry patted her shoulder. “Sit back and relax a bit,” she said. “You’re going to find these waves of feeling weak coming on for a while, but don’t worry. It’s just your body’s reaction to what you went through. You’re going to be fine.”
Frankie nodded. “I know. But thanks. When I think about what he almost—”
“Don’t think about it,” Sherry said. “Not right away.”
“But knowing he’s still out there… Maybe I should report it.”
Lisa shook her head. “You don’t want to go through that kind of circus,” she said. “I’ve been there and, believe me, what the cops put you through is way worse than anything the fucker that tried to rape you would have.”
“She’s right,” Sherry said. “They’ll treat you like the criminal, like it was you egging him on.”
“I suppose…”
“Believe me,” Lisa told her. “You don’t want to go through it.”
“Try to rest a bit,” Sherry said. Then to Howie, she added, “Do you want to get a bit of air?”
Here it comes, Howie thought. “Sure,” he said. Fuck it. What could she do to him?
* * *
“Something’s wrong down there,” Bannon said as he hung up.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
“Well, I’m not waiting here.”
Bannon shook his head as Valenti started to get up. “Someone’s got to stay here in case Ali shows, remember?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Let me handle this, Tony. I mean, what did I come up here for? To take hikes in the woods?”
“Sure. It’s okay. You’re more mobile than me. I can understand that.”
Bannon smiled. “Hey, I know how you feel about this woman, Tony. I’m not going to put the make on her.”
“What do you mean you know how I feel?”
“Hey, if you don’t know, you must be the only one.”
“C’mon,” Valenti said. “What am I doing—mooning over her?”
“No. But you get a soft look in your eye whenever she’s in the room.”
“Fercrissakes, the next thing is you’ll have me married off like some kind of—”
“I’ve got to go,” Bannon said. “We can talk about this later, if you want.”
Valenti nodded. He watched Bannon check the clip on his automatic, then thrust the gun back into his jacket pocket. “Take care,” he said.
Bannon glanced at him. “Always,” he said, then the door closed behind him.
Jesus, Valenti thought. The whole world was falling apart. He got up to stand at the window, but then the phone rang again. He started for it, favoring his bad leg.
* * *
As soon as they were outside, Sherry turned to Howie. “Okay. What’s the story?”
“What’s your problem, Sherry? All of a sudden you’re—”
She cut him off. “Look. Hanging around with Steve, I’ve run into a few things. Some dope dealing, sometimes things that get a little heavy and someone’s got to get patched up, but I don’t want to be any part of this shit—do you understand me?”
“Sure. But—”
“This Earl she mentioned—is that the same guy that came by with you last night?”
Howie nodded. “Yeah. But it’s not like what you’re thinking.”
“No? What do you call snatching somebody’s kid?”
“She owes him fercrissakes. She’s sitting on so much money…” His voice trailed off as she shook her head.
“You just can’t leave her alone, can you?” she said.
“What’re you talking about? You don’t even know this fucking woman!”
“But I know this old story, Howie. How come the woman always owes something? What’s with you guys anyway? Where do you come off thinking that anything with breasts and a vagina automatically owes you anything?”