15: Tamlin's Reef
Well, maybe this wasn't the best route for getting to the Sepulveda Freeway—
Eric looked around at the shadowed hills rising around him, the darkened landscape with only a hint of the moon peering through the clouds for illumination. I don't think I'm lost. I mean, I kinda know where I am. Somewhere between Bel Air and the San Fernando Valley—
He snorted. Yeah. That's most of Southern California. Face it, Eric, you're lost.
Eric kicked at a rock, and squinted at the sky. Might as well keep walking. Sooner or later I'll have to hit a street, or a housing tract. The Hollywood Hills don't go on forever, after all.
But I must be the only guy in the world who's stupid enough to try and hike over them at midnight—
He walked carefully down a dry stream bed, sidestepping the rocks, the wild growths of shrubbery and trees. A sprained ankle, that's just what I need to make this night the epitome of stupidity.
He followed the stream bed up the next incline, stewing at himself, and staggered as a wave of disorientation hit him, a feeling like—like everything had been wavering out of focus, and now was back in again. Yeah, I sure wasn't thinking, when I started on this little hike. Or using my brain earlier tonight, either. That—that thing that I called, when I thought Ria was going to kill me—that could've munched both Ria and me, then gone off to eat the rest of Bel Air for dessert. Real bright, Eric. I'm just glad Beth and Korendil were far away when I did that cute stunt.
He sighed, and stumbled over an unseen rock. They're probably real ticked at me, anyhow. I sure didn't give them a warm reception when they showed up.
I didn't give them much of a reception at all—
He slogged through another stretch of scrub oak, using his flute case to push the low branches out of his way. I'll call Beth when I get home, and apologize. I don't know what I was doing, treating them like that. They probably think I was stoned off my ass or something, don't know what.
Or something—
He fought off another sudden wave of dizziness. That was really strange, how I didn't recognize Kory at first. Must've been the bad light outside. It's like, I was just thinking about that whole little incident just now, and I remembered that it was Kory standing there with Beth. Too weird for words, Eric.
The scrub oak caught at him, clawed at him. He barely noticed. Hell, it's been a weird few days, since that scene at Beth's, Tuesday night. I guess it's none of my business who she sleeps with. It's just that, well, it hurt. But then again, I guess I hurt them by running off like I did. And, whatever else is happening between all of us, they're my friends, so they were worried when I didn't surface after a day or two. Good friends, those two. I wonder how they tracked me down so quickly?
He sighed, glancing up at the pale aurora glow of moon through the clouds. Must be way past midnight by now. I've been walking for ages, or at least that's how it feels. Damn it, I knew I should've just walked down through the streets, instead of trying to shorten the hike by going through the hills. Stupid, Eric.
A lone owl hooted somewhere off to the side. If he hadn't been so stupid, maybe he could be curled up next to Ria, without a care in the world. I wonder what Ria's doing right now, back at the house? Is she worrying about me, like Beth and Kory were worried, or is she glad that I'm out of her life?
Things had been so good with Ria until this evening. She's—she's really something. But I don't know if I love her or not. There don't seem to be any real connections between us—
Connections. Ties. Commitments. He'd never wanted them before—and Ria had offered him a life without them. But somehow now that seemed an awfully empty way to live.
The way I feel about her—it's not the same way that I feel about Bethie, or—or about Kory, I guess. I do care a lot about those two, it's a little like being really good friends, but more so. Like . . . family. Like we all belong together. Even with Beth, now that we've well, spent a night together. And Kory—God, but I still don't know what to think about him! But it's not this kind of, uh, fiery emotional stuff that I felt with Ria. Like everything was intense—
Too intense. Unnaturally so. And the, the sex, too, that was something. But . . . too much, somehow. That was very strange— Ria's very strange, that way.
He shook his head, then cursed under his breath as his hair caught on a branch. Wincing, he tugged it free. I don't know what to think about that lady, or the last few days. Bizarre. I only walked out a couple hours ago, but already all of it feels so unreal. Like it wasn't really me, it happened to somebody else. As if it all was just a dream—
The more he tried to focus on it, the more unreal it seemed. Maybe it was a dream. It sure feels that way. Like I've been completely asleep for the last couple days— A pair of clouded jade eyes gazed at him sardonically from memory, Oh, shit. Maybe I was asleep. I know Perenor can play games with people's minds, like what he did to me on the bus—what if Ria was doing the same thing to me? She's one helluva good sorceress, I learned that for a fact. Yeah, that was almost the last fact I ever learned, that's for sure.
And maybe that's why it's so hard to remember what I've been doing for the last few days, why it was so hard to think when I was in her house.
A memory of blue eyes interposed itself over the green. Blue eyes, wet with tears. But she said she loved me—
Yeah, well, different people show love in different ways. Maybe she didn't realize what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did, but she thought she was doing the best thing for me. I don't know.
He felt as if his mind was going in circles. No wonder Kory and Beth were so pissed at me, when they saw me at her house. They probably figured it out right away: Eric following Ria around like a lapdog, tongue hanging out, without an original thought in his useless brain. Jesus. I have been acting real brainless lately, haven't I?
Stupidity runs rampant in the life of Eric Banyon . . .
He swallowed hard. It seemed like all he was doing lately was messing things up. Well, I hope Beth and Kory will forgive me. I'll definitely call them as soon as I get home.
A sudden thought made him stop dead in his tracks. Hey . . . maybe I don't have to wait till then. I'm a Bard, I'm supposed to be able to do all of this magical stuff. The only times anything magical has ever happened, it's been an accident, when I wasn't trying to do anything. Maybe I can do something deliberately, for a change. Intelligently. Use this weird Gift of mine to get in touch with Kory and Beth.
He had stopped on the edge of a small valley, a tiny ravine with a grove of stunted oak trees visible below him. Eric concentrated hard, thinking of Beth: the sound of her voice, her laughter, the way she looked at him that night on the living room couch. Trying to reach out to her— :Hey, Beth, pick up the phone. It's me, Eric, your crazy Bardic friend, calling you on the Ma Bell cellular brainwave line—come on, Beth, talk to me—:
Someone else spoke, a low, breathy voice, a whisper in the silent recesses of his mind: :Who speaks in my dreams? Who awakens me from my slumber?:
Eric looked around, bewildered. Excuse me?
:Who is it who walks silently through these hills, and calls to one who is far away? Who are you, intruder into my endless night?:
He sighed. Well, this is no weirder than anything else that's happened to me lately. Eric carefully constructed a reply, sending it out blindly to the unseen speaker. :Yeah, hi. My name is Eric Banyon. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm just passing through the neighborhood.:
:What are you?:
What? Eric looked around in surprise. What am I? That's one helluva question.
He thought about it for a moment before answering. ;Well, I'm human, of course. And a Bard—at least, everyone keeps telling me I am. Who are you?:
The reply came not in words, but in the rustle of leathery wings, high above the valley, spreading to block out the moon and the stars. :This is what I am.:
Eric looked at the monstrous thing looming above him, tattered wings beating soundlessly against the sky, and gulped.
Oh shit—I didn't need this, not tonight, not after everything else that's happened—
The blind moon eyes, pale white, turned towards him. :You are a Bard, human?:
:Well, yeah,: Eric thought back at it, trying to keep his mouth closed as he looked up at the bulk of the creature effortlessly aloft in the air above him, its sinuous neck craning down towards him.
I've never seen anything like this guy before, not even in my worst nightmares—I don't know if I should run like hell, ask him if he likes to play canasta, or what! What do you do with somebody who's a hundred feet long, aside from anything he wants?
:Good. I am hungry. :
Eric blinked once. Shock and sudden fear coursed through him as the creature's words registered. Uh oh—I don't think he's talking about doing margaritas together at Que Pasa, here—
The creature suddenly plummeted toward the ground, toward him, falling from the sky like a stooping hawk. Eric didn't stop to think, he just ran; right down toward the only cover in sight: the grove of twisted trees below.
A whisper of foul stench slid past him, a hiss of breath and wings passing directly overhead; then the sound of claws, tearing through the rock where he had stood, until the stones screamed in agony.
Eric dived into the scanty cover of the trees, feeling a strange tingle over his hands as he grabbed on to an aged oak and cowered behind it. This—this is an Elf Grove, like the place at Fairesite. I can feel the magic, feel the life in the trees themselves. But there's no elves here— He tried to catch his breath, looking around unsteadily.
:No, there are not,: the oily voice murmured. :Lord Perenor summoned me here to despoil this Grove, and I have long since devoured the last of the Old Blood that resided here. But I am yet fortunate, for now you have arrived, a young Bard—:
:Hey, can't we talk about this?: Eric protested, glancing up through the leafy branches at the creature, now hovering a hundred feet above him. :I mean, I'm not really much of a meal for you. Kinda lean and stringy, y'know? Wouldn't you rather munch out on a horse from the Equestrian Center or something?:
:I am not interested in simple meat, Bard. I prefer the taste of one with Power, such as the Old Blood. Such as yourself.:
Oh, terrific, Eric thought crazily. Of all the monsters I could've run into, I get the guy with the gourmet palate, a connoisseur. He tried again, a different tack. :Look, you really don't want to do this. I mean, I'm going to put up a fight. It'd be a lot easier just to call it quits, right?:
He looked up as the huge creature soared past overhead, and ducked back into the shelter of the tree as several droplets of something foul and indefinable sizzled down through the leaves beside him.
:Why should you fight me, Bard? Why should you fight at all?: The voice in his mind was icy, mocking.
:I know you, young Bard. I can see who you are, reflected in the light of your own Power. You have always drifted, letting the winds of Fate direct your life, letting others make your decisions for you. You have never cared about anything—now, you do not care enough to run from me, do you? You do not care about anything at all, even your own life . . . do you?:
Eric leaned back against the gnarled trunk of the tree, breathing hard. It's—it's doing something to my mind—it's so hard to think straight—confused—
:Come out of the Grove, Bard, where I can see you, away from the shrouding wisps of dying Elf-magic. Let me control your life, let me take away the necessity of decisions, the painful choices. All you have to do is step away from the trees . . .:
Eric shook his head slowly, waves of despair and desolation washing over him. Yes—I should—I should just let everything go. It doesn't matter, I don't matter—I'm never going to do anything meaningful, anything that's going to make a difference. I might as well just let it all go—
:Yes,: the voice whispered. :Yes. Abandon all the pain that is your life, let the dark oblivion wash it away. Come to me now, Bard.:
:Yes—yes, I will—:
Eric began walking toward the edge of the grove, the moonlit hillside beyond. In his mind he could sense a dark exultation, and a dreadful, anticipating hunger.
Then an image flitted across Eric's mind, of Beth Kentraine standing on the driveway, tears wet on her cheeks. "You abandoned us, Eric . . ."
He stopped, one hand resting on a low-hanging branch. "Beth—"
:Come to me, Bard, come to me now—:
Anger raced through him like an electric charge, erasing the haze that the creature's spell had cast upon him. :Yeah, that's what you want, isn't it? Eric the Bard, your little midnight snack strolling right down your throat? Well, let's try it the other way—how 'bout me having some Cajun-style blackened monster for a change?: He leaped back into the sheltering trees, just as he felt and heard the creature's roar of hatred and frustration.
Then the grove exploded into flames around him.
Holy shit!
Eric rolled to the ground, trying to beat the fire off his jacket. Oh God—I'm going to fry in here if I don't do something quick— Gasping for breath, he fumbled desperately with the clasps of his flute case.
He shoved the pieces of the flute together, then glanced up through the burning branches, just in time to see the winged form arcing down toward the grove for another pass.
But the creature landed instead, crashing through the flaming trees. The huge clawed hands, the tentacled mouth dripping slime, all blindly lashing about, searching for the Bard.
Who was sprawled in the smoldering leaves, less than twenty feet away.
Oh God—oh God—it's trashing the Grove, trying to find me. If I run, it'll zero in on me in a few seconds. There isn't anything else I can hide behind. And if I stay here . . .
Eric brought the flute to his lips, and played for all he was worth.
"Banish Misfortune." Oh, God, please, if there's any resident deity around here, get me out of this!
The first notes were inaudible against the screaming fury of the monster, the trees shattering in its wake, and the crackling of the raging flames. Then the descanting melody broke through, stilling all to silence; even the crackling fire dimmed down to mere flickers of flame.
It's—it's working, something's happening—
He clambered to his feet, still playing the Irish tune, and moved toward the crouching monster. The pale moon eyes were turned toward him, transfixed.
I'm holding it, somehow. Now what can I do with it?
If I let it go, it'll kill me, just like it killed the elves, and probably every hiker and jogger that's been through these hills in the last few months. I guess—I guess I have to kill it. Now, while I'm holding it trapped.
A memory: he and Prince Terenil in the dojo, and lightning scorching down, barely missing him.
That wouldn't have killed me, though it sure would've been worse than sticking my finger in a light socket. If I do that, but with everything I've got behind it—
I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this.
He raised his hands, and called the lightning.
Scream of tortured violins. The sizzling roar shook the ground around him, followed by a reek of stinging ozone. For a moment, Eric couldn't see, blinded by the smoke and light—
:FearTerrorPAIN . . . fading, fading . . .:
When he could see again, the winged monster was lying motionless, its eyes open and staring. Eric covered his nose and mouth with his hand, overwhelmed by the reek of burned flesh and smoke.
Is it—is it dead?
:Bard—come closer—:
Involuntarily, he moved forward, caught in the dying creature's gaze.
:Yes—if I must to die, trapped here by a hated enemy, unable to fly from this valley and slain by a mortal, then at least I will take you with me, into the shadows.:
Falling into darkness, falling, dying, every thing fading—
NO!
Eric wrenched free of the creature's dying mind with an effort, shaking. The monster shuddered once, and was still.
He stood there for a long moment, clutching his flute with fingers that were too numb to feel it. I think it's really dead, now. Christ.
Eric staggered away from the huge corpse, away from the smoldering oak trees, to the open grass. He glanced back—
—to see the monster's body changing, dissolving into something else.
The wind kicked up, sending the dead ashes swirling away from the barren trees, scattering the pile of dead leaves and ragged black plastic sheeting. The plastic crackled in the wind, like the snap of leathery wings.
It's—it's really gone. I killed it, God. He managed another few steps before falling to his knees, unable to walk; retching his guts out, trembling in every limb, and covered in ice-cold sweat.
Oh God, oh God—I've never been so scared. But it's dead, it can't come after me again, it's dead, it's dead, it's gone, it's dead . . .
Eric stood on the top of the ridge, the wind running invisible fingers through his long hair. The lights of the San Fernando valley glittered beckoningly before him, the winding road through a sedate tract of houses leading down to civilization.
I'll be home soon. Only a couple more miles to go, thank God; I've never wanted to see my apartment so much in all my life.
I'll get home, wash some of this soot and dead monster slime off of me, and then call Beth and Kory.
Using the telephone, this time.
Christ, I feel like hell . . .
He walked past the darkened houses, down to Ventura Boulevard. Even at this hour of night, there was still traffic on the street, cars passing him by, occasionally slowing down to look at him.
Yeah, I probably look terrific right now. And smell great, too. Eau de fried monster. Really lovely.
After what seemed like an eternity of trudging along the city streets, Eric finally reached his building, and started up the stairway to his apartment.
Then, on the top stair, he hesitated.
Ria—she must've known where I lived, or she could find that out, real easy. I wouldn't put it past her to know exactly where I live, my bank account number, the sock drawer where I keep my cash, everything. What if—
Eric, you're getting paranoid.
Yeah, but I want to stay alive, too.
He gazed at the locked door for a long moment.
Okay. Maybe I'm not going to open the door just yet. Maybe I should drop in on Beth first. I don't think Ria would've figured out where she lives, at least not yet. Especially if Beth's got that magical shielding up around her place—
Damn it, this isn't fair! All I want to do is go inside, take a shower, and sleep! Why did my life have to turn out this complicated?
Eric reached for the door handle, then shook his head. No. I'm not going to push my luck.
Then how in the hell am I going to get to Beth's, at this hour of night?
He looked down at his aching feet, and sighed. Oh well. It can't be more than seven or eight miles away.
Here I go again . . .
Eric didn't know what time it was when he finally hiked around the last corner and saw Beth's apartment building in front of him. But it must be getting close to dawn. God, my feet hurt. If Beth isn't here, I'm just going to fall asleep on her doorstep, I don't care if her landlord calls the cops or not. I'm so tired—
He found a last burst of energy and jogged up the wooden stairs, two at time. He hesitated before knocking on the door.
What if she doesn't let me in? We didn't exactly part on the best terms, earlier this evening.
She has to. I don't have anywhere else I can go.
He rapped sharply on the door, waited, then knocked again. She's probably asleep. I'd better keep knocking, give her a few minutes to wake up. He was about to knock a third time, when the door suddenly opened.
She stood, haloed by the hall light behind her, wearing only a long nightshirt, her dark hair tousled, her dark eyes wide with surprise. Beth, how could I have left you? God, that was stupid. I—I feel so good, just seeing you now—just being here—
She reached for the door, suddenly, and Eric knew that in another half-second she was going to slam the door in his face.
"Beth!" Eric blocked the door with his foot. She backed away from him, then whirled and—
—and ran. He shoved the door open arid stepped into the apartment, seeing her stumbling away towards the living room.
"Beth, don't run away from me!"
She turned, angrily, and he saw the tears on her face. "Me, run away? What in the hell do you think you did?"
God, she looks awful. Like she hasn't slept in days. And there's white hairs in that black frizz of hers that I've never seen before. A finger of cold trailed down his backbone. He ignored it, moving towards her.
"Look, I know I was acting stupid earlier," Eric began reasonably, "But I'm back, aren't I?"
"Yeah, you sure are," she said bitterly. "Hooray for you." She sat down on the sofa, reaching for a half-empty bottle of beer, refusing to look at him.
It's Kory. That's what it is, it's Kory. Oh God, I've lost her before I ever had her, and it's my own stupid fault.
"Beth, listen. I—I need to know—are you in love with Kory?" He swallowed painfully. "If you are, it's . . . it's okay, I'll just leave now. I don't have anywhere to go, but that's never mattered before. Are you?"
She stared at him, as though she didn't understand what he had just said, then laughed—only it wasn't much like a laugh; it was more like a cry of pain. "Why should you care, after what you did? And why should I tell you?" She clenched her fist, pressing it to her temple, face contorted with pain.
Then, suddenly, she sagged with defeat, and swigged from her bottle. "Not that it matters, anyhow."
She's never talked like this to me before, ever. What's happened since I left? Then something else she had just said sank in, along with a low heavy feeling in his gut. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"
Her words were muffled behind the bottle. "Kory's gone, Eric. He—he gave up hope, these last couple months since you left us. He completely lost hope, and now he's left me." She trembled, the beer bottle loose in her hands, close to spilling. "He left me—"
"Why would Kory—" Eric began, then stopped short. "Months? Months? What are you talking about?"
She glanced up at him, her dark eyes empty and cold, with something brittle and about to shatter at the bottom of them.
"We spent two months looking for you, Eric," she said tightly. "Trying to fight Perenor's people without you, to stop them from destroying the nexus. But we couldn't do much, not by ourselves. God, we tried. Kory wore himself away to nothing, trying. We knew they had you—at least for a while. But he couldn't find any trace of you, nothing. We—we thought they'd killed you."
She choked back a dry sob. "Then one night Kory heard you playing, somehow—so we knew you were alive, and roughly where you were. That's what led us to you, your music. Otherwise we'd never have known what happened to you."
Eric sank down to the couch, his legs refusing to support him. "No. That can't be true. I've only been gone for three days—"
Think, Banyon, All those old Celtic ballads about people being trapped in the land of Faerie, spending a night dancing in an elven circle, then waltzing home to find out that ten years have gone by. That's what happened to you.
Holy shit.
That's what Ria was doing to me . . .
He took a deep breath, and another, trying to get his mind back into first gear. Not in neutral. Wheels spinning, but not going anywhere. That's where I've been for the last two months.
Two months.
"Okay," he said at last. "Okay. So I lost a bit of time. But why did Kory walk out on you?"
Beth shook her head slowly, her voice ragged with despair, every word tearing at his heart. "You still don't get it, do you?" she said dully. "It's been months, Eric. They bulldozed the Fairesite three weeks ago. It's all over."
The bottle fell, a stream of beer cascading into the carpet, as Beth buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "He gave up. We knew, the last day, we knew when it happened. He just sort of . . . folded in on himself when the bulldozers hit the first tree. And he gave up. There's nothing left. No hopes, no dreams. Nothing. It's over, the elves are going to die, Kory's going to die—he knew he was going to die, so he left me, so I wouldn't have to watch him, see him die slowly, fading like all the others—"
Eric moved closer to her, gently putting his arm around her shoulders. "Oh, Beth."
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "But I know he's dying, I can feel it; I can feel him dying a little at a time. It hurts, Eric, it hurts so much—" He held her tightly against him, feeling the dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt.
Every word felt like a knife in his heart, but nothing hurt as badly as the knowledge that he was the one responsible for the whole disaster.
If I hadn't walked out on them—God, Beth, how could I have done this to you, to Kory? I didn't know—oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—
She cried until she had no tears left, dry sobs shaking her body. She cried herself into absolute and utter exhaustion.
And all he could do was hold her.
He carried Beth into the bedroom an hour later, after she'd finally cried herself to sleep in his arms. Eric set her down carefully on the mattress and pulled a blanket tenderly over her. From the doorway, he glanced back at her; the gleam from the streetlight outside filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting long shadows on her tear-stained face.
Eric walked back to the living room, his thoughts in chaos. On the living room table was a bottle of Irish whiskey, half-empty; he picked it up, opened it, and took a long draught.
Time for drinking and thinking. In that order. I should probably take a shower, get some of this filth off of me, but I'm too depressed.
He sat down on the sofa, the bottle clenched in his hand. Across the room, the television was on, with the volume turned all the way down. Eric crossed over to the TV, and raised the volume just enough so he could hear and not awaken Beth.
Black and white shadows flickered across the screen. A '50s science fiction film. Terrific. Something mindless to watch while I get drunk. He sat back down on the couch wishing the whiskey would take effect faster. I want to be really drunk, really soon—
God. How could this have happened? Why didn't I realize what was happening? I still can't believe it—two months.
Kory's gone, and maybe he's already dead. I don't even know where he is, even if I knew how to help him.
Ria and Perenor—they've won. Last game of the night, all the cards on the table, and they've won.
He drank another swallow of the whiskey, the fiery liquor burning a track down his throat.
It's over. There's nothing Beth and I can do.
A tiny voice spoke into his thoughts, an echo of his own grim thoughts, and the creature he had fought earlier this night: Yeah. You can wallow in self-pity. Get drunk, get stoned, get trapped under a Faerie hill, wipe the world away. That's what you can do. Like you've been doing for the last two months. You can go on doing absolutely nothing. You're really very good at it.
Eric stopped, the bottle of whiskey half-raised to his mouth. He hesitated, and his hand wavered, then he slowly set the bottle back down on the table.
No. No more. This time, I'm going to do things right. I don't care if it's hopeless—I'm not going to give up again. I've spent too many years running away from problems and commitments. This one I'm going to face.
There's a beautiful, wonderful lady asleep in that next room, a lady who cares a lot about me. I'm not going to fail her. And somewhere out there is a frizzy-haired elf guy, a guy both of us care about, who depended on me—
And I let him down.
But I won't do that again. We'll find him, and we'll make this work out right.
If we can find him.
If he's still alive.
Something deep inside him refused to give up, revolted at the idea of Kory being gone. He has to be alive. I won't believe he's dead. If he was, I think . . . I think I'd know, somehow. I don't think anybody, not even Ria, could keep me from knowing that.
He glanced at the television screen, where a handsome blond hero was blowing away a killer tinfoil robot with some kind of ray gun. I wish everything was that easy. If I thought it was, I'd pick up a .45 from a neighborhood pawnshop and go hunting for Perenor. But that won't accomplish anything, other than probably getting me killed. I remember real well what he did to Kory.
The hero-actor posed and gestured like a wooden puppet, somehow more artificial than the tinfoil robot. God, but that movie is awful. Really bad. Not "so bad it's cute" bad, but just pathetically bad. It's not even funny. Doesn't have any magic to it at all.
No magic . . .
Is this what all the movies, all the music, are going to be like now? So . . . lifeless? Like the same old stupid plots, replaying over and over again?
That's something terrific to look forward to. If I fail at this, if I can't do something to save Kory and the elves, I'll never be able to sit through a movie, ever again.
Hell, why am I thinking about movies? If I go after Ria and Perenor and blow it, I'll be dead. Perenor would kill me with all the hesitation and moral consideration of somebody swatting a fly. I'd—I'd like to think that Ria wouldn't try to kill me, but I know better than that.
The images on the television changed from scrolling end credits to the early morning news, and a video clip of firemen and police officers clustered outside a burning building. Eric suddenly tuned his ears into what the announcer was saying, curious. ". . .and in Van Nuys, firemen are still battling a blaze that broke out roughly an hour ago . . ."
Eric blinked, looking at the flames rising from the ugly pink apartment building. I really feel for whoever lives there. That place looks just about totaled.
Who'd want to live in that ugly—pink—oh my God, that's my apartment building! My home is burning down!
Holy shit!
He stared in shock at the television set, and the green flames rising from the pink apartment building. Green and pink, really lovely. I think I'm going to be sick—
Wait a second, here. Green flames?
Suddenly he recalled another set of green flames. Magic flame. When he and Terenil had dueled—
But Terenil wouldn't have done anything like this—
Even if he could have.
Which left—The only other two creatures in this city capable of wielding that much magic power.
Ria.
And Perenor.
He rose to his feet, so angry he was shaking. Damn you! Damn you! Haven't you done enough to me? Haven't you got it all? Do you have to turn my apartment into a bonfire? Why in hell can't you leave us alone? I'm no threat to YOU!
He didn't even realize he was screaming the words at the top of his lungs until somebody began to pound on the wall from the apartment next door.
And he didn't care.
"Damn you, Perenor! Leave us alone!"