The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [186]
Davis’s forehead wrinkled, pushing up his hat. “So does she always talk like a mad scientist?”
“Pretty much,” Travis said.
“Sorry,” Grace said with a chagrined look. “It’s just that you made me realize something, Davis. They did look like chimpanzees, didn’t they?”
Travis understood what she was getting at. The gorleths had been chimpanzees … at least they had been once. But they had been changed, just like the Necromancers changed the Little People into feydrim. Only what had been used to alter them? He thought of their pale, slanted, too-large eyes. But there was only one thing he had ever seen that had eyes like that. And they were gone, they had to be. He had healed them with Sinfathisar.
He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but Vani spoke instead.
“The Seekers.” She gazed past Travis, at Grace. “They do not know what has happened.”
Grace smacked her forehead. “We were supposed to call them.” She fumbled in the backpack Travis had been carrying, and which held his few precious objects: Jack’s dagger, and his mistcloak. Grace pulled out the cellular phone Farr had given them. She punched a button, held it to her ear.
“It’s me,” she said.
Travis watched her as she listened. He could hear the faint buzz of a man’s voice emanating from the phone. Farr—although Travis could not hear what he was saying.
It happened suddenly. Grace’s fingers went white around the phone, and her eyes grew dull. She listened another minute, then nodded.
“We’re coming,” she said, then lowered the phone.
Travis took the phone from her, switched it off. Something was terribly wrong. “What is it, Grace?”
She gazed out the window. “Marji is dead. There was a fire at her shop about two hours ago.” She turned her gaze on Mitchell and Davis. “It must have been just after she called you.”
Travis fought for understanding. Marji—tall, outrageous, gorgeous Marji.… Dead? Rage rose in him, only to be crushed down by a ponderous sorrow. Once again someone who had dared to help him had paid for the deed with her life.
“How?” was all he could say. But he already knew.
“Duratek,” Grace said. “Farr thinks one of their agents followed us to Marji’s and heard us talking. He thinks that’s how they knew about our plan, and why they evacuated the complex.”
Vani peered at the blur of grimy buildings outside the window. “But where have they gone?”
“Boulder. On Highway 128.” Grace leaned forward, her head next to Mitchell’s. “We’ve got to go there.”
Travis struggled to keep up with her words. “How do you know that’s where they are?”
“I don’t. It’s what Farr said. He and Deirdre are on their way. We’ve got to follow them. Now.”
“Boulder it is, ma’am,” Mitchell drawled.
All of them were flung to one side of the cab as he turned hard on the wheel, swinging the truck onto the dirt median. Dust and gravel flew as the vehicle spun in a half circle. Then Mitchell double-shifted and punched the accelerator, and they were flung back against the seat as the pickup lunged forward. It sped in the opposite direction now, gray mountains looming in the windshield.
This time it was Mitchell who was grinning, his brown eyes sparkling behind his wire glasses in the rearview mirror. “That was a little trick I learned herding cattle on my grandfather’s ranch in Montana.”
“Nice,” Travis said, holding on to the seat with a death grip. “Now tell me where in this thing you keep the barf bags.”
62.
Grace was beginning to think Travis’s request hadn’t been out of line. It was clear the pickup had lost its suspension somewhere on the rugged landscape of Davis and Mitchell’s high plains ranch, and the two men hadn’t bothered to go look for it. She bounced on the seat, periodically whacking her shoulder against Travis or her head against the ceiling.
They had called Farr again. Travis had spoken to the Seeker, explaining that they had a vehicle and were driving fast. Then, in mid-sentence, Travis frowned and lowered the phone.
“I think the