Running with the Demon - Terry Brooks [85]
She released him then, and he sagged forward, gasping for air, feeling the cool dampness of the earth against his knees and palms, feeling the power of her touch rush through him.
“Rise,” she whispered, and he did, surprised to find that he could do so, that there was within him, sparking like flint on stone, the promise that he could do anything.
“Embrace me,” she whispered, and he did that as well, without hesitation or deliberation, casting off his doubt and fear and taking on the mantle of his newfound certainty and belief, reaching for her, committing himself irrevocably and forever to her service.
Chapter Fifteen
With twilight deepening to night and the park emptying of its last visitors, John Ross walked Nest Freemark home again. He had finished his tale, or as much of it as he wished to confide in her, and they were speaking now of what had brought him to Hope well. Pick had joined them, come out of nowhere to sit all fidgety and wide-eyed on the girl’s shoulder, trying his best not to appear awestruck in the presence of a vaunted Knight of the Word, but failing miserably. Pick knew of the Word’s champions — knew as well what having one come to Hopewell meant. It was vindication, of a sort, for his frequently expressed suspicions.
“I told you so!” he declared triumphantly, over and over again, tugging at his mossy beard as if to rid himself of fleas. “I knew it all along! A shift in the balance this extreme could only be the work of something purposefully evil and deliberately ill-intentioned! A demon in the park! Criminy!”
He was the guardian of Sinnissippi Park, and therefore entitled to a certain amount of respect, even from a Knight of the Word, so John Ross indulged his incessant chatter while struggling to complete his explanation to Nest. He had been tracking this particular demon for months, he continued, momentarily silencing Pick, He had sought to bring him to bay on countless occasions, had thought he had done so more than once, but each time had failed. Now he had tracked him here, to Hope — well, where the demon meant to precipitate an event of such far-reaching consequence that it would affect the entire country for years to come. The event itself would not necessarily be dramatic or spectacular enough to draw national attention; that was not how things worked. The event would be the culmination of many other events, all leading to the proverbial last straw that would tip the scales in the demon’s favor. Of small events are great catastrophes constructed, and it would be so here.
“The demon will attempt something this weekend that will shift the balance in a way that will make it difficult, if not impossible, to right.” John Ross kept his voice calm and detached, taking care not to reveal the rest of what he knew. “What we must do is discover what he intends and put a stop to it.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Pick interrupted for the twentieth time. “Demons can disguise themselves so thoroughly that even a forest creature can’t recognize them! If we don’t know who he is, how are we supposed to disrupt his plans?”
John Ross was silent for a moment. They were passing down the service road now, the lights of the Freemark house shining ahead through the trees. He had not told them of his dreams. He had not told them of the future he had seen, the future that had revealed to him the truth about what the demon intended to accomplish by coming to Hopewell. He could not tell them that, of course. He could never tell them that.
“The demon is not perfect,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “He makes mistakes,