The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [124]
She said little, drinking water, surprised that she felt no impulse to bolt, but she did not sense danger from these men. Quite the contrary: By then she had picked out Jack and Presto and returned their inquiring gazes with equal curiosity.
"What is your name, miss?" asked Doyle.
She looked at his face before answering. "My name is Mary Williams."
"Have we met before, Miss Williams?" asked Presto.
The three of them, linked somehow. Did they know it was the dream?
"Yes," she said.
"Why do you suppose that is?"
She knew the answer; reluctant to voice it yet.
"Where are you from, Miss Williams?" asked Doyle.
She told them.
"You are American Indian, then."
"Yes; Lakota."
"Really?" said Innes, brightening. "How ripping."
Doyle gestured; Innes backed off.
"Had you ever seen this man who attacked you before?" Doyle asked.
"He has followed me since I got to Chicago."
"Do you know his name?" asked Jack.
"No. I know nothing about him," she said.
"Why didn't you go to the police?" asked Doyle.
"He had done nothing to me."
"Still, they might have helped—"
"I know how to protect myself."
The obvious answer hung in the air; she responded to it. ' 'Tonight I made a mistake; my mind thinking of other things. It was the only moment he could have hurt me."
"The only one he needed," said Jack.
"If he comes again, I will kill him." Her tone left no reason to doubt her.
"Still, you are very lucky to be alive, Miss Williams," said Presto.
He showed her the contents of the carpetbag he'd found in the warehouse. She stared at the instruments of disfigurement without reaction. What she saw did not surprise her—nothing about that blue, blank-eyed nightmare would have—but she agreed that yes, she had been fortunate.
"If I may ask, under the circumstances, what were you doing out there tonight alone?" asked Doyle.
"Waiting for someone. They did not arrive. In my disappointment, I was not paying attention. That is how he caught me.
"Waiting for whom?" asked Doyle.
She looked back and forth between Jack and Presto. "I believe that I have been waiting for these two gentlemen."
The two seemed to receive this bombshell in stride; Doyle, Stern, and Innes looked shocked.
"You believe so?" asked Doyle. "On what basis? ..."
"Let her speak," said Jack.
Walks Alone waited; yes, it felt safe to tell them.
"I have seen you in a dream," she said, looking right at Jack.
"Good night," whispered Innes.
"You know I am telling the truth. Both of you do," she said calmly, including Presto. "You know the dream."
Jack and Presto glanced at each other warily.
"Tell us," said Presto, testing her.
"A dark tower, in the desert. Tunnels beneath the earth; an altar or temple underground. Six figures gather; I am there. And so are both of you."
"Yes," said Jack.
"A black devil rising from the earth; a man. And he looks something like you," she said, nodding to Jack.
"Right. Scotch for me," said Doyle, moving to the bar.
"I'll join you," said Lionel Stern.
"Make mine double," said Innes to Doyle as he poured.
"You have had this dream," she said. "You have seen the tower."
Both Presto and Jack agreed.
"It started three months ago," she said. "Slowly at first; now it comes almost every night."
Jack nodded. Doyle watched him from across the room. Fire in his eyes again, feverish and disturbed, but still a sign of life.
"Two or three times a week," said Presto. "Wakes me in a cold sweat."
"Do you know what it means?" asked Jack.
"No," she said hesitantly; why frighten them with my interpretations?
Fortified with drink, Doyle moved back to them, unfolded Jacob's drawing from his pocket, and held it for her to see. "The tower in your dream; does it look anything like this?"
"Yes; this