The Presence Part 34

"I'm glad. I hope like b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l they catch the bloke," Thayer said, staring straight at Bruce.

Actors. It was a crowd of actors, Bruce told himself.

Thayer frowned suddenly. "Ryan isn't out with the horse," he said. "At least, I don't think, anyway. I saw him upstairs in his room, talking with his wife, not twenty minutes past."

"The horse is gone," Bruce said, frowning, as well. Then he realized that Toni had the horse out, and an unreasoning sense of panic set into him.

Thayer, too, seemed alarmed for reasons of his own. "Toni!" he said.

"I'll find her," Bruce told him, already turning to lead Shaunessy from his stall.

With landscape and terrain this beautiful, Toni wasn't sure why she hadn't been out riding before now.

One benefit to growing up in rural Maryland had been the little pinto her father had bought her. But as an adult working in the city, she'd had to leave Barto, now twenty-two, with her old neighbors. It was good for Barto, though. He was hardly ever saddled, was loved like an old dog, and given the best of everything.

She seldom saw him, and with the move to Scotland, she had given up the idea of owners.h.i.+p altogether, and given him to the Andersons' granddaughter. He was a gentle soul by then, just right for a child, as she had been.

Wallace was definitely a fine fellow, heavy enough for Ryan with his armor and weapons, and still sleek enough for a good ride. Whatever had ailed him, his recovery had been all but miraculous. He wasn't just glad to be out; he was feeling his oats.

Her mood had been angry and wild, so she hadn't bothered with a saddle. She'd just slipped the bit into his mouth, the bridle over his head, and chosen a path down the hill. There was plenty of countryside. Beautiful s.p.a.ces. They pa.s.sed slope after slope, scattering a few sheep as they raced along, but the longhaired cows they pa.s.sed didn't seem to mind.

She wasn't sure how far she'd gone when she noticed that a white car marked Tillingham Constabulary was parked by a fence. Curious, she rode in that direction, and saw Jonathan out in the field. He appeared to be inspecting one of the sheep.

Nudging Wallace, she rode down the little slope that led to the valley where the car was parked. Jonathan heard the horse, looked up, released the sheep and dusted his hands on his uniform pants as he walked toward the fence, calling out a cheerful greeting. "Aye, now la.s.s, good t'see you. That is the way to really enjoy this countryside," he told her.

"h.e.l.lo! And, yes, it's really beautiful. How are you?" she asked him.

"Well and fine enough, Miss Fraser. So...all is working well for you? Your friends were in, you know. And though I've not the resources of the big department, we are working hard for you, through the folks that know their business. I just told Bruce this morning, they've traced the site on the Web page to Glasgow."

"Really? I haven't seen Bruce today," she told him. "Glasgow," she repeated. "I'm delighted, naturally, and grateful that they've traced it so far already, but I suppose they'll need to learn much more to actually catch someone."

"Aye, Glasgow," he said. She thought that he was looking at her strangely, as if that should mean something.

"It's a very big city," she murmured.

"Aye, that it is." He was still staring at her strangely.

"I'm sorry, should that fact mean something to me?" she asked him.

"Your cousin is from Glasgow," he reminded her.

She instantly felt defensive bristles grow up around her. "It's a very big city," she reminded him.

What was it today? Was there something in the water? People attacking everyone who meant something to her?

"You're right," he acknowledged. "A very big city. I just thought that you wanted the truth. No matter what the truth may be."

"We do want the truth. Sorry, I didn't mean to bark. But I don't think the fact that something originated in Glasgow is any aspersion on Thayer at all. That would be like me being guilty of something because it happened near Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C."

"D.C. is much bigger than Glasgow," he said with a rueful grin.

"Still the point," she said.

"And well taken," he told her gravely.

"Well, I do thank you. Very much."

"You're quite welcome, but it is my job to uphold the law, even if it falls into unfamiliar realms. We've good police here in the old country, y'know. I feel somewhat guilty, I do. I should have known, before your group put the work into the place, that he'd have never rented out the place. But then, he hadna' been about himself for some time, so.. .it would be his right to do it, had he chosen."

"Please, there's nothing for you to feel guilty about. And actually, he's been quite wonderful."

Jonathan glanced down. "Oh, aye, the fellow is.. .magnanimous, isn't he?" he queried, looking back up at her.

She nodded, not wanting to go any further in that vein. "Are these your sheep?"

"Aye, that they are."

"You've beautiful land."

"Well, quite frankly, it's not my land. But I pasture here. Heard there's been some trouble with that roan there, but he looks fine to me. I thought I'd be wise to take a look at these fellows and la.s.ses, a.s.sure myself nothing was getting into the herds."

"He's fine. The vet said he must have gotten into something, but he's come through just great. Like a little boy with a bellyache who'd eaten too much candy, I guess," Toni said.

"Well, you're right, must have been something... Anyway, the sheep look fine and healthy, too, la.s.s. I guess I'd best be getting back into town."

"It was nice to see you!" Toni told him.

"Enjoy your ride!" He waved and started toward his car. Toni headed Wallace back up a slope. He seemed to want to run again.

She let him do so, mulling over her encounter with the constable. On the one hand, it seemed that he did want to do what he could for them. But on the other hand.. .he seemed more concerned with how their business affected him. The foreigners have a sick horse, so he checks his sheep?

Then, of course, there was that ridiculous conversation she'd had with the others back at the castle, and... there was the ghost. A ghost that should be happy now! A ghost who kept appearing at the foot of her bed.

She leaned low against Wallace, and let the wind rip by her. She wanted not to think for a while.

She didn't know how long she traveled the hills and valleys before she realized that, even if Wallace was feeling frisky, she might well be pus.h.i.+ng him too hard. After all, they'd had to send for a vet to see him twice in the past week. Patting his neck, she slowed him down, leaped off for a moment and came around to take a good look at his eyes.

He stared back at her and snorted, sending a sneeze and some mouth foam flying over her. "Wallace!" she chastised him. "Ugh! How could you do that to me? There are times when you should do it to Ryan, but I'm your friend. I think I am, anyway. You need a drink. Well, we should walk a bit and then get you a drink."

She looked around, trying to ascertain where she was, then wondering how on earth she could have turned herself around so badly. Although she could still see sheep, there was no sign of a house, a cottage or even a road.

Listening, though, she could hear the bubble of a brook. It was to the right, through a field of trees--and the path--a great canopy of trees arced over pine needles--looked inviting. "We'll wander in and find the water, eh, boy?" she asked, rubbing his nose.

As he tended to do--with true love and affection, she was certain--he nosed her in the chest, gently prodding her, as if he understood her words.

Plenty of light dappled through the trees. The shadows and patterns that fell around the trees and bushes were quite beautiful. The trails seemed broad and well used, yet when she followed the sound of the water and came to it at last, she felt like a fool.

"You know what? We're back in the forest."

It was all right. She definitely hadn't come that far, walking the horse. All she had to do was retrace her steps. She wasn't frightened, and she wasn't even worried. When Wallace had drunk his fill, she'd start back. But just when the horse lifted his head, the rain came.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" she swore out loud, drawing a snort from Wallace.

It wasn't the rain. She didn't care much about getting wet. But the air was cold, and she hadn't set out with any kind of jacket, waterproof or otherwise.

"You know, it rains a lot here!" she told the horse, angry with herself for not being better prepared. But she'd left the house angry and disturbed, and decided on taking a ride on the spur of the moment.

In seconds, she was soaked. And what had been light and beautiful was now gray and.. .murky.

She determined to go back the way she had come. It should have been easy, but it wasn't. In a matter of minutes, she was entangled in the trees.

She looked at Wallace. Surely, it was close to feeding time. If she just gave the horse his head, he'd take her home.

"It's up to you, buddy," she said.

By the time she had leaped up on his back, making three attempts--because of the slickness, she told herself, not a lack of coordination--the rain had slackened. But the gray and the murk remained, and there was a low ground fog, as well. The whole atmosphere was... creepy.

"No!" she said aloud. Because now, she was feeling the eyes again, the eyes of the forest, watching her.

"Home, Wallace!" she said out loud, hoping the words would dispel the sense of eeriness that had crept around her. She was being ridiculous. These were trees, for G.o.d's sake! Trees, bushes, natural bark, leaves, the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water....

Given free rein, Wallace simply stood dead still.

"Traitor!" she told him.

He whinnied and s.h.i.+fted weight from hoof to hoof.

"What kind of a horse are you? You're supposed to know the way back to the barn!"

The eyes.. .she could feel them.

"All right, forget it," she said, and gathered up the reins. She didn't know how far it would be, but since there was only one forest, she could hope there was only one stream. She'd follow it out.

The water was very shallow. She led the horse straight through it, then along the embankment when it deepened. She tried whistling, but she couldn't keep her lips wet enough. And as she rose, she fought a sense of sheer panic that could do her no good. But images kept floating before her mind. A picture of a man, a warrior, a Cavalier, in armor, kilted, dirty, worn, tired.... A sword that dripped blood in his hand. The same man, standing before the hearth, watching the flames, then beckoning her down into the crypts.

Yesterday. The voice on the phone. The word medium.

She gritted her teeth. She was not some kind of a vessel for horrid messages about things that she could not change or see through! Unlike the girl on the phone, she had no desire to see lots of ghosts!

She bit into her lower lip. The rain had stopped completely, but the mist continued to rise from the forest floor. She was soaked to the bone, completely chilled. And she continued to feel watched. Stalked.

Each time she hesitated and looked around, she saw nothing. The forest was big. Hadn't she heard many people say that? She glanced at her watch, again, seeking a sense of normalcy in the action. Yes, the forest must be very big. She'd been following the stream, she estimated, for nearly two hours, and suddenly realized that she wasn't just stiff, she was in agony.

She turned, setting a hand on the horse's rump, trying to see anything that she could behind her. Any movement. But all she saw was the fall of shadows.

"Hurry it up a bit, shall we?" she murmured.

They trotted forward, and when she looked back, the feeling that a darkness followed her, reaching out, started to recede.

Finally she could take it no more. She had to stretch, change her position. It might have been a nice day to choose to take a saddle, she reflected, but it was too late for that, far too late.

"Whoa, boy," she told Wallace, reining in lightly. She looked behind her uneasily, thinking that if she saw anything, anything at all, she could turn, slam her knees against Wallace and race away. But there was nothing, just the coming darkness.

She needed a quick moment's rest, then she needed to move again. So she slid from Wallace's back, wincing slightly. She walked a few steps, stretching. "I guess it is a big forest, if troops, outlawed by the powers that be, used to hide in here," she murmured. She led Wallace over to a large oak set up on a little hillock of gra.s.s, just above the stream, and sat down, leaning against the tree, ruing her stupidity.

"Wallace," she said, "you really aren't much help."

Still, she was very glad of the horse. He seemed to be her link to reality, to normalcy.

Tired, she closed her eyes for a minute. When she opened them, Wallace suddenly lifted his head, his ears p.r.i.c.king as he stared off toward her left. The horse was still, yet it appeared that his flanks were trembling. He snorted. She stared at him curiously, the animal's fear snaking into her, and realized, too late, that he was about to bolt.

With another snort, he did so, leaping forward like a show jumper. The reins, held too loosely in her one hand, snapped free from her hold in seconds.

She leaped to her feet. "Wallace!" she cried angrily. Then she fell silent, aware that the animal had run because something had frightened him. She stood very still, feeling the odd awareness, the fear, which the animal had pa.s.sed onto her.

She listened. She could still hear the echo of the horse's hoof beats. And then...the cry of a bird. And then...a rustling.

From somewhere far away, the faint wail of a bagpipe sounded, but not loud enough to dampen the sound of twigs snapping. Someone was near.

She moved against the oak. Then...she could see a figure, a man with a dark tarn, his head down. He wore an old suede jacket.

She stayed still, not daring to breathe. But a sound of surprise came to her throat as the man stopped, dusted dirt from his hands onto his pants and looked around. She saw his face clearly. It was Eban.

Call out! He'll get you home, she told herself. But something warned her to remain still. What had he been doing in the forest? Burying the remains of some poor girl? Was that why his hands were dirtied?

No, stop! She told herself. She was being cruel, judging when she shouldn't judge.

But no sound would come to her lips. She remained quiet. Only when he was gone--gone, way past her-- did she start walking again, following the stream. After a minute, she quickened her pace. If she'd seen Eban, she had to be close to the castle.

"Toni!" she heard her name called. There was thras.h.i.+ng ahead of her. Someone was in the forest, looking for her.

"Toni!"

"Here!" she called out.

"Toni!"

That time, the sound of her name seemed to come from behind her. The voices, she realized, looking around, could have been coming from anywhere, she was so disorganized. She started to run, directly in the stream, which was shallow enough here. Water kicked up around her. It didn't matter in the least.

"Here!" she cried again, then paused suddenly, startled. The light was bad, very bad. The silver mist still lay close to the ground. But ahead of her, maybe thirty, forty feet, there seemed to be something in the water. She blinked, looking that way.

There was a thras.h.i.+ng sound ahead of her.

No, behind her...

She started to turn.