Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [87]
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.
THIRTY-THREE
Do you think Uncle Owen’s psychic blindness will be permanent, Miss Tate?” Tony asked.
“I have no way of knowing,” Charlotte said. She closed the heavy volume she had been reading and glanced uneasily at the black velvet bag on top of the chest of drawers. “According to my research, the Quicksilver Mirror is capable of blinding the senses