A Knight Of The Word

She nodded into the phone. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”


She could feel the pain begin even as she spoke the words. Her entire body was throbbing, an ache building steadily from a low whiny to a sharp scream. “Where are you?”

“Downstairs, in the lobby.” He paused. “I called earlier and there was no answer. I was afraid something had happened to you, so I decided to come over. Can you come down?”

She took a deep breath, still working at waking up. “In about a half hour. Can you wait?”

“Yes, “He hesitated a long time. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you were right about some of the things we talked about. Maybe I was wrong.”

She blinked in surprise. “I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

She returned the receiver to its cradle and rolled onto her back. Whatever had happened to him must have been every bit as significant as what had happened to her. She didn’t know for sure that he was ready to concede the point, but it sounded as if he might be. She stared at the sunlight pooling on the floor in a golden rectangle in front of the tall window. Not only had she forgotten to set the alarm, she hadn’t even bothered to close the drapes. She looked out at the sliver of blue sky visible through the walls of the surrounding buildings. Last night’s storm had given way to better weather, it seemed.

She rolled slowly out of the big bed, her joints and muscles groaning in protest. Every part of her body ached from last night’s encounter, and when she looked down at herself, she found bruises the size of Frisbees on her ribs and thighs, and scratches on her hands and arms that were caked with dried blood. She could hardly wait to see what her face looked like. She glanced at the bloodstreaked sheets and pillow cases and grimaced. She was grateful she wouldn’t have to explain all this to the day maids when they came around to clean up.

She went into the bathroom and showered. She was reminded by the heap of damp towels and washcloths that she had showered just last night, but she needed to perform the ritual again to prepare for her encounter with John Ross. Last night seemed far away, and the deaths of Ariel, Boot, and Audrey more distant in time than they actually were. At first, as she stood beneath the stream of hot water, they didn’t even seem real to her, as if she had dreamed them, as if they were imagined. But as the details recalled themselves, the images sharpened and solidified, and by the time she was pulling on her jeans and an NU sweatshirt, she was surprised to find she was crying.

She picked up the dirty clothes, stuffed them into a laundry bag, and shoved the bag into her suitcase. Her windbreaker was in tatters, so she dropped it into the wastebasket. She would have to buy a new one before she went outside. She paused, wondering exactly where she was going out to. She had taken the room for two nights, and her plane ticket home was for four-thirty that afternoon. Was she really leaving? Was her part in all of this over? She remembered her promise to herself the night before that she would see things-through to the end. She had made that promise for Ariel and Audrey and Boot, but for herself, as well.

She looked around the morn. Well, what she would do next depended on what John Ross had to say.

The long, dark, feral shape of the demon chasing her through the park flashed unexpectedly in the back of her mind. She hugged herself and set her jaw determinedly. She was done with running out of fear and a lack of preparation. She would be ready if the demon came at her again. She would find a way to deal with it.

But it was John Ross who needed strengthening. It was Ross the demon was really after, not her. She was Just a distraction, an annoyance, a threat to its plans for him. Once Ross was subverted, it wouldn’t matter what she did.

She went out the door and rode the elevator dawn to the lobby. Ross was sitting in a chair across from her when she stepped out, and he came to his feet immediately, leaning heavily on the walking stick.

“Good morning,” he said. as she came up to him. She saw the shock in his expression as he got a closer look at her face.

“Good morning,” she replied. She gave him a wry smile. “The rest of me looks just as bad, in case you’re wondering.”

He looked distraught. “I was. Did this happen at Lincoln Park? I got your message from Stef.”

“I’ll tell you everything over breakfast. Or lunch, if you prefer. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday about this same time. Come on.”

She led him into the dining room and asked for a table near the back wall, some distance apart from those that were occupied. They sat dawn facing each other and accepted menus from the waitress. Nest studied hers momentarily and put it aside.