Hereafter Read online

  A naked brown body rose up almost directly under House’s horse, too close for the mutant to get any leverage on his spear, but enough to startle the horse into shying out from beneath its rider.

  House, his concentration all on the Mag, slid from the right side of his saddle and bounded into the tall grass. Yelling like a crazy man, he stabbed wildly with his sword. Bevee, shooting past him, whirled her horse and came back.

  Bad tactics. Bannion made note of a reprimand to be issued at a private meeting after the fight.

  Rongo, oblivious to the drama taking place behind him, sped on, his job now to retrieve Bell.

  That’s when Bannion, hurrying to provide backup, became aware of two items of crucial importance. One, the person protecting Bell was not only a woman but also a total stranger, and two, unless his eyes had gone bad on him, she was lobbing fireballs at the Mags. They weren’t fireballs made of any natural material either, like lighted balls of pitch, because, as he got closer, he saw a tiny sphere of flame start at the ends of her fingers. The flames grew larger, until she hurled it at the nearest Mag. It splashed against the mutant’s bare chest.

  Wonder jolted through him. The stranger was a god-rotted magician and—here dismay joined the wonder chortling inside him—and the O’Quinns had her.

  On second thought, they didn’t. Not yet. Rongo, oblivious to everything except his mission to rescue Harrison Bell, had a mutant impaled on the end of his sword and was shouting at the woman to “get a move on and boost the old man up.”

  Just for a moment it looked like she might protest, but Bell must’ve affirmed this truly was a rescue and not another assault. With Rongo pulling and her pushing, they soon got the wounded man up behind the scout.

  That left the woman standing by herself and looking very small and forlorn. Four Mags, two male and two female, surrounded her. Rongo, following his orders to save Bell, spurred his horse viciously, pushing a way between them. Grinning and yapping, they let him go, sure now of easier prey.

  “Go, Nog,” Bannion said, leaning forward in the saddle. Looked like he was closest to the woman as the rest of the patrol had scattered. Individual groups were busy chasing down remnants of the mutant battle force.

  Nog’s shod hooves beat the dusty earth. Dry plants whispered against Bannion’s pant legs. His breath whistled in his lungs as he shifted his saber to his left hand and gripped his long fighting knife with the other. A raven flew over him, arrowing toward the Mags and the woman.

  Another fireball leapt from the woman’s fingers and splashed into a female Mag’s hair. A twitch of her fingers and another, smaller one followed. It hit a bare brown breast. Clung as if glued while the Mag screamed.

  Then a third fireball, smaller yet, lit the cloth covering the Mag’s crotch. Routed, she ran. Fire engulfed her whole body.

  Bannion just had time to see the sick expression on the magician’s face before one of the males darted forward, driving his short knife toward her chest. Bannion almost drew Nog to a halt then, figuring the woman was done for.

  She never faltered.

  Evading the stab as if it were nothing, she danced around the mutant. When close enough, she dropped to one haunch and pivoted in a circle, her free leg taking both the Mag’s legs out from beneath him. The creature fell hard. Immediately the woman was up. She snatched the Mag’s own knife from his loosened grasp, raised it high. Brought it down hard between ribs.

  It was a move that showed training in the art of war.

  So, she was a warrior magician. A rare creature indeed.

  Another horse and rider shot between them before Bannion could get there, running a Mag into the ground as he did so. The horse squealed as other rider pulled him to a quick stop.Nate.

  “Get up,” he heard Nate snarl to the woman.

  Bannion nodded approval to his cousin and threw his knife at the other male Mag, the thin haft almost going all the way through its body. “Take her,” he shouted above the Mags’ caterwauling. “I’ve got these.”

  The woman, her eyes, wide and shocked looking, flinched from the horse rearing above her head, but she reached out with her arm and let Nate grab onto it. Bannion figured his cousin’d have to pull her over the withers in front of him—those Outsider people never knew which end of a horse pooped—but she stepped on his foot and threw her leg over the back of the saddle, perching there like a bird about to take flight.

  “Hang on,” Nate said and the woman nodded.

  Busy watching the magic woman with Nate, Bannion got a little careless, ignoring the last Mag. Fortunately for him, the woman had not. As he put Nog into a spin, another of those molten fireballs slid from her fingers, hitting the Mag in the face. That one screamed and ran blindly until Nog trampled her beneath his sharp-shod hooves.

  The sound stopped.

  Reaching for the whistle on the string around his neck, Bannion blew three sharp notes. “Fall back to the woods,” he bellowed. “Regroup. Begin a sweep. Somebody bring me a prisoner, one that looks like it can talk. The rest die.” A smudge of smoke reminded him. “And put out any fires.”

  The magician had succeeded in setting the meadow on fire.

  ***

  Lily Turnbow hardly knew what to think. Everything that had happened since she woke up yesterday seemed unreal. Downright preposterous, really. Especially this last battle. It was almost as if she was watching a poorly acted Sci/Fi movie on cable television. But the fearsome screams heard during the conflict had certainly sounded real enough. And the smell of blood and stench of unwashed bodies lingered after all the rest had gone.

  Black flashes hovered at the edges of her vision, so that when she closed her eyes, the last thing seen was imprinted on her retina. Things like inkblot daubs of blood, a woman turning into a pillar of fire, a horse charging at her with its nostrils flaring red. A war-horse, for God’s sake, like from medieval days only smaller and fleeter of foot. And a grim-faced man atop the horse, almost casual in his actions as he swooped her up.

  Her head swam. Words sounded like gibberish. Nothing made sense. Who had started this war? Who and what were these strange enemies? And were the others truly her allies?

  Lily’s stomach, disturbed by the motion of the horse, churned dangerously. “Let me down,” she demanded of her rescuer as they reached the woods. “Quick.”

  “You’re safe for now, magician,” the rider said, confusing her even further, but she had no time to bother with that. Before the horse fully stopped she slid from its back and bent over, once again losing the contents of her stomach, sparse as it was. The pain in her gut eased by an infinitesimal amount.

  “Are you hurt?” the man on the horse asked.

  “Just a little sick,” she managed, staggering over to a fallen log and sitting on it. She trembled, deep tremors running through her, wet with sweat, yet feeling cold. Noises from the field grew fainter, until she heard only horses moving about, and then, finally, voices and once, laughter. The pain in her stomach eased, the shaking slowed, then stopped. Breath drew comfortably into her lungs.

  Meanwhile, the man sat astride his horse and watched over everything, including her. Oh, yes. Her most of all. Although she avoided meeting his eyes, she felt the weight of his gaze, probing like a scientist examining a bug. Once in a while he shouted greeting to someone in the field. A relief to her in those moments, because for at least then his attention was elsewhere.

  When Harrison. Bell, helped along by Jacob Felix and a girl, came looking for her, she greeted the old man with distinct relief.

  “Mr. Bell, you look better.” Her lips curved in a faint smile. “Did you find the healer Jacob told me about? Did you find Neila?”

  Bell sank down beside her on the log. “Not yet. But being safe among friends has proved a great restorative.”

  “I can imagine.” Lily turned to Jacob. “And you, kid. I thought you were a goner when that…that…thing had hold of you. You’re a good fighter.”

  “You ain’t so bad yourself, Lily,�
�� Jacob said, grinning at her compliment. “How’d you do that, anyway?”

  Lily shook her head. “Do what?”

  “You know.” He flicked his fingers. “The fireballs.”

  Lily swallowed with a dry clicking in her throat. She wished her little trick had passed without notice. Hard to do with spot fires and burned bodies all over the meadow, she supposed. But how in the world was she to attempt an explanation, especially when she couldn’t explain the phenomenon to herself?

  “Yes, Lily,” Bell said, “I’d like to know, too. That’s quite an addition to anyone’s arsenal.”

  The man on the horse watched her, his odd, dark amber eyes unblinking as he waited for her answer.

  Nope. Not a chance of passing what’d happened off as a figment of their imagination. Smoke still rising from the field prohibited that. And now she had to disappoint them all. Too bad.

  “Nobody wants to know more than me.” Spurious honesty oozed from her every pore. “But actually I have no idea. I just thought fire, and there it was.” She looked at each of them in turn, even the strange girl—young woman, rather. Studying her fingers, she crooked a smile. “You know what’s really crazy? It didn’t burn me.”

  Nothing would do but that Jacob see for himself. “Nope. No burns,” he said, backing her up.

  Still the man on the horse said nothing, his silence an ominous part of his strong presence. His steady regard made Lily uncomfortable.

  “Does anyone have drinking water?” she asked, then was surprised when the man himself, evidently somebody important in this weird troop of antique-equipped soldiers, passed a horn vessel with a carved plug over to her.

  “Thanks.” This time she took care to take only small sips. After several such, she felt better, the black borders fading from her vision. Dehydrated, she thought. Strange it had happened so quickly, but she showed the symptoms.

  Looking up, she found the young woman’s stare, only a degree less intense than the horseman’s, riveted on her like she was a specimen in a zoo. Until she narrowed her eyes at the girl, at which the girl looked away.

  “Are there any questions I can answer for you?” she asked civilly. Might as well get this ball rolling. According to her experience, you learn as much from what people want to know about you as from what you ask about them. And then, once they finished, it would be her turn. At last she was on the verge of enlightenment. Where was she? How long had she been here? What had happened to Lopez and the terrorists? And most of all, what in the hell were these pitiable, though obviously dangerous mutant creatures?

  The girl’s first question, one that sparked approval in the horseman’s eyes, took her by surprise.

  “Are there many like you?” The girl stepped down from her horse and came nearer, keeping a wary eye on Lily’s right hand. “Are you from the eastern lands? We’ve never seen any of your tribe before. Where are the rest of them?”

  “My tribe?” Lily hoped she was mistaken, but there seemed something just a little threatening about the line of questioning. “I’m not tribal police. I’m Border Patrol. Federal law enforcement,” she added, making sure there was no misunderstanding. Lurching to her feet, she reached in her pocket and fumbled for her I.D. and badge, only to have the girl nock an arrow faster than most people could cock a six-gun. “Easy. I’m only pulling my identification.”

  Impossible to miss the wary exchange of signal between the girl and the horseman, whose left shoulder hitched a mere fraction. Which left it up to Jacob and Bell to try to smooth things over.

  “Kira,” Bell said to the girl, “your arrow is not necessary. And you, Nate. Don’t be hasty in your decisions. I think…I think not all is as it seems.”

  “No?” The rider, after a long moment motioned the girl to lower her bow.

  “She saved my life,” Bell said.

  “I saw,” the man, Nate, said.

  “She saved me more than once. Last night, then again today.”

  “Saved me, too.” Jacob reddened in embarrassment in admitting it.

  “I think we’re pretty even on that score, Jacob.” Though she managed a smile, Lily was beginning to worry. Did she need these champions?

  “And in addition,” Harrison added, as though this were the final commendation, “Sliver brought her to me. That must count for something.”

  The girl, Kira, opened her eyes wide. “Sliver did?”

  Ignoring the fact the dog’s behavior had startled her, too, Lily nodded. “Why not? I get along with dogs pretty well and most of them are good at sensing when their master is in trouble. I suppose he thought I was the only help around.”

  They all looked at her, Bell with a faint smile. “As you were.”

  “Do you know what kind of dog Sliver is?” Jacob asked.

  Lily shrugged. “He’s a Karelian bear dog, isn’t he? A breed noted for its loyalty to its master. I remember…” She frowned, not quite sure what she did actually remember. “And I understand they can be quite ferocious, if need be. Which Sliver—” She cut off. Yes. Ferocious, indeed.

  “I would never have survived if you hadn’t showed up with him,” Bell said. “He drove off a wounded Mag. I don’t know what happened then, but luckily for me, Sliver came back with you.”

  “Ahh.” Lily nodded. “So that explains the creature I found down by the lake.”

  Jacob’s words were not quite so delicate. “You’re the one killed that sonovabitch? We saw your tracks and wondered.”

  Nodding, Lily took no pride in the death. “He was in bad shape already. Gangrene, spread beyond any chance of cure.”

  “Nobody would want to cure him,” Kira put in, her lip curling.

  Lily pressed her hand to her stomach and found her seat on the log again. “No. Excuse me. Of course not. They’re wild things, aren’t they? A mutated people of some sort, hidden away from the rest of the world. And very dangerous. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of them, since they’re in my territory. Apparently, they’re a well-kept secret.”As were these people, in truth. She’d have something strong to say to her superiors about that, as soon as she reported in. “Are they what we’ve always called Bigfoot? Although they’re not particularly hairy or big, and I wouldn’t call these specimens exactly retiring.”

  When she looked up again, four, make that five—a man on a huge buckskin horse had joined the party—sets of eyes stared at her as if she were stark raving mad. More proof, if she needed it, that the whole world had skewed somehow. Her heart started an uncomfortable tripping again. “What? What did I say?”

  Yeah. What was she saying, because of course, these people she sat among right now were every bit as mysterious as the mutants. A…tribe, for lack of a better word, of horseman warriors, nomads from the look of things, right here in northeastern Washington State. And even after covering most of this country in detail, she’d never seen hide nor hair or heard of them before.

  Including right here on this spot. Lily’s vision started up with the sparkles again.

  Thankfully, the new man ignored her and motioned to Kira with a jerk of his head. “Select one trooper to ride with you,” he said. “I want the pair of you to go back and bring up the rest of the clan quick as the wagon wheels will turn. Be on the lookout for Mag stragglers and warn Selkirk of the same.”

  Ah, so he was the commander of this strange troop.

  The girl’s face glowed. “Yes, boss. I’ll take Bevee.” She was astride her horse almost before the words were out of her mouth, leaving the man grinning. “Now there’s a patroller who knows how to follow orders,” he said, apparently to no one in particular. “Lets hope she can pry Bevee away from House long enough to get the job done.”

  Lily had no idea what he was talking about, and had no chance to ask, because he began issuing a new set of orders to the troopers who, at the completion of the their assigned tasks, gathered around him, and perforce her, for further instruction.

  “Everyone accounted for?” he asked squad leaders.

  �
��All here,” the one called House said. “No deaths, only a couple slight wounds.”

  “Something they can brag about,” an older man called Rongo, added. “It was a smooth mission. One of the kids has that captive you asked for, boss. A two-eyed specimen, and it seems he can talk a little.”

  Bannion nodded. “Watch him close so he doesn’t kill himself. I’ll deal with him later. Right now I want to the posse to push on to headquarters and have everything set up for the rest of the folks.” He drew a leather thong from under his shirt, raising it over his head. A key hung suspended from it, which he handed to Rongo. “Open the kitchens first, please. Then start airing out the barracks. House, your squad goes along to guard him, and I don’t want anybody—anybody, you hear?—taking off alone for any reason. You’ve drawn guard duty. That’s it.”

  “Yes, boss,” House snapped smartly, restraining, judging by the hand angling toward his forehead, a half-formed salute.

  “One more thing.” Bannion stopped the two men when they would’ve ridden off. “Clear out the medical department and put up a sterile field. Neila’s going to want everything ready for Harrison and the wounded patrollers when she gets here.”

  “Will do,” Rongo said, and ignoring the dead mutant bodies littering the field, led the way toward the buildings Lily had found deserted yesterday. Only yesterday? Already, it seemed a week had passed.

  She slumped and closed her eyes, resting her head on her knees.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Nate’s voice was less harsh than the commander’s.

  Lily started, staring toward where he seemed caught in a vortex that included his horse’s head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t keep track of what is happening. In fact…”

  After a wait, Nate said, “In fact…what?”

  Lily closed her eyes, which only increased her vertigo. “I wish I knew what was going on. I don’t understand any of this.”

  Bannion snorted. “One way or another, I think understanding will come.”