The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [149]
As if of its own volition, her right foot rose and brushed the first step. Above her, livid silver light welled forth. It rolled down the steps like glowing mist.
Do it, Grace.
The humming rose to a high-pitched whine. Grace opened her mouth, but no sound came forth. The hum was the only sound. The light spilled down the steps, pooling around her ankles; it was cool against her skin.
You’ve got to go up the stairs. You did it once, when you were thirteen. You can do it again.
Gripping the banister, Grace set her foot down on the step—
—and the world turned into fire.
No, this wasn’t right. The flames hadn’t come yet, not until later. Not until she had seen. She had to go up the stairs.
But the fire roared all around now. Grace curled into a tiny ball on the steps and wept the tears, not of a thirteen-year-old girl, but of a grown woman. Then the shadow swelled all around her and pressed out the fire.
50.
Travis pushed back heavy curtains, letting bright October light pour into the room. He moved back to the bed and sat on the corner.
“Grace,” he murmured.
A soft moan escaped her lips, and her head rolled against the pillow, but her eyes were clasped shut. She was dreaming.
No, not dreaming, Travis. It’s more than that. She’s there again, living it. The shadow of the past.
He laid his right hand on her forehead and felt a tingling beneath his palm. “Grace, it’s time to wake up. You’re in downtown Denver, in a room in the Brown Palace. Yes, I know it’s a little fancy compared to the Blue Sky Motel, but don’t worry. It’s on the Seekers.”
The corners of her mouth pulled downward. Her hands curled into fists, twisting the covers.
The previous night, after the attack at the motel, Vani had driven them there. Neither he nor Grace had known where the Seekers were staying, but somehow Vani had. She had led them to a room on the third floor, knocked. But when the door opened and Deirdre gazed out with surprised eyes, there had been no one in the hall besides him and Grace.
As best they could, they had told Deirdre and Farr what had happened, then they had watched the report on the Channel 4 ten o’clock news. Travis had been only mildly shocked when photos of him and Grace were flashed on the screen.
Police are looking for these two individuals, who they believe are connected to the violence at the Blue Sky Motel, the robotic news anchorman had said. They are considered dangerous, so if you see them do not approach. Instead, contact the police immediately.
Apparently their good friends at Duratek had been busy. Travis was amazed they had the energy to manage a multinational conglomerate what with all the time they spent manipulating his and Grace’s lives. Then again, it seemed they had had help in the matter. Again he thought of the figure in the gold mask, the one Vani had said was the master of the gorleths. Somehow, with a motion of his hand, the other had made Travis’s heart stop beating. Had it not been for his dagger enchanted by the Runelords long ago, Travis knew he would be dead now.
Thank you, Jack, he said silently.
After the news, Grace had not been able to stop yawning and had crawled into bed without even taking her clothes off. But there had been no sleep for Travis. He had stayed up well into the night, sitting in the suite’s main room, talking with Deirdre and Farr, telling them every detail he could remember about the attack. Finally, Farr had gone into his room to contact the Seekers. Deirdre had brewed Travis a cup of what he thought was herbal tea, but which must have contained a few other active ingredients, because the next thing he knew he was lying on the sofa, the red light of dawn creeping between the tall buildings of downtown to set the room’s window afire.
Grace’s eyelids were still shut, but he could see rapid movement beneath them. He bent down and kissed the damp surface