The Devil's Eye

THIRTEEN

As I watched, it floated away from the trees and started across the river. I got up and went to the bank, as close as I could get, and took some pictures. It was a patch of luminescence, a radiant mist. A candle adrift in the night. I activated my link. "Identify," I said.

"Range, please?"

"Fifty meters." I watched its reflection in the water.

"Object unknown."

"It does not match with any life-form on Salud Afar?"

"Negative. There are various microscopic-"

"Any natural phenomenon?"

"None known."

It was almost across. I hurried forward, but it was drifting downstream, away from me. It floated over the riverbank and merged with the forest. I watched for a while, until long after it was gone. It was, I decided, a reflection. Or possibly some local machination, another unquiet grave, to entertain tourists. Well, they had me hooked. I went back and put another log on the fire. The river was dark and quiet. I climbed into my blanket, closed my eyes, and tried to laugh at myself. The insects got a bit louder, and somewhere a branch creaked. Go to sleep, Kolpath. The fire cracked and popped. I liked the smell of the burning logs. There was something reassuring about it. I opened my eyes and looked again. Still nothing out there. But I couldn't get back to sleep. I lay several minutes, listening to the forest and the river, and finally I got up, pulled my jacket around my shoulders, switched on my lamp, and walked back to the edge of the river. There was nothing. I wondered if someone in a control room somewhere was having a good laugh at my expense. Callistra had set. The area where the apparition had entered the trees was dark. The only light anywhere, other than that I was providing, came from the misty edge of the galaxy, now rising in the east. It was getting cold. I started back to the campfire. And saw a glimmer in the forest. It was back. I turned off the lamp.

It appeared to be just at the edge of the forest, not quite at treetop level, drifting quietly with the wind while it rose and sank. I thought about waking Alex, but he'd have complained again. He was probably right. Undoubtedly right. Still- When I was a little girl, I had a kitten named Ceily. I used to amuse myself with Ceily by pointing a laser light at the floor in front of her. She loved to chase it, and I used to run the laser around the room and up the walls. Whenever I got it down within her reach, she'd go into her crouch and sneak up on it and try to grab it. I felt a little bit like Ceily that night. I walked toward the light, taking my time, as if I might scare the thing off. The ground was uneven, and I wasn't paying attention, so I almost fell on my face. The apparition retreated. Moved deeper into the trees. I followed. The grass was stiffer than anything we had at home, and it crackled underfoot. There was no clear track; I had to blunder forward as best I could through bushes filled with thorns and vines that, somehow, when they touched my skin, excited a tingling reaction. I pulled my hands up into my jacket sleeves. Then it disappeared again. I aimed the lamp at the trees, saw nothing, and decided to hell with it. Enough was enough. I turned to start back. And saw it behind me. About ten or twelve paces away. A gust of wind rattled the branches but had no effect on it. I wasn't sure if I'd simply not noticed before, but the apparition was pulsing, alternately brightening and dimming. In sync with my heart. I was the woman in the haunted-house story who sees strange lights upstairs and goes in to see what's happening. Even at that moment I wasn't really afraid of it, so strong was my assumption that it was a hoax. I knew, absolutely knew , that someone, nearby, was controlling it. But I put my hand on the barrel of the scrambler. Somewhere a bell sounded. Twice. Three times. Probably from the Hub. Maybe from a passing boat. The apparition didn't waver. Didn't move. It simply floated in front of me. And I found myself thinking of Ceily. Of her last day. I'd been directed not to let her out of the house. Kittens weren't safe outside, my father had warned me. We lived on the edge of a forest, and the woods were filled with predators. But she always wanted out, always tried to get through the door when I opened it, and I felt mean and contemptible keeping her inside. So one day I held the door open for her. She followed me onto the front lawn and we had such a good time together that I did it again the next day. I don't know why, but I've always remembered it was the second day and not the first. And I was standing there minutes later watching her crouch as if she were going after one of the birds in the feeder when a yakim came out of nowhere and seized her in its claws, scooped her up, and soared into the sky with her. The last I saw of Ceily was her big eyes fastened on me, pleading with me to help. Within seconds the yakim and the kitten were gone, into the trees, and I went screaming after them. I never found her, of course. But I kept running and crying until I was exhausted. Then I realized I didn't know the way home. And it got dark. It was a couple of hours before I heard distant voices calling my name. It was the only time in my life I wanted to die. And that night, in the forest on Salud Afar, it all came rushing back, as if everything had happened at once: Ceily rolled into the yakim's claws, her eyes round and desperate, my heart pounding so loudly I couldn't breathe, the dark woods stretching for miles in all directions, the dull dead sounds of the forest, the voices behind me somewhere. I fought back tears and thought how the world must have seemed to Ceily in those last moments, how alone she must have felt. And I traded places with her and rode with the yakim, while the ground fell away, knowing the claws would tear me apart within the next moments. Knowing I was alone.

Then Alex was there, holding me upright, asking in a scared voice what had happened?

I'm not sure what I said, but he responded by asking me about Ceily. "Say again: Who is she?" He looked out of focus. "Where is it?" I asked. "Where's what ?" "The light." He thought I was talking about my lamp, which was lying on the ground, its beam playing across a tangle of thorns and berries. "No," I said. "In the trees." He looked around. "I don't see anything. Who's Ceily?"

In the morning, it only seemed like a bad dream. Alex thought it was another warning that we should back off. But it wasn't like that at all. Something out there had gotten at me and triggered a response that no simple gimmick could have managed. I was still shaky when we called the people at Marquesi's to inquire about Vicki. She'd left her canoe in the hands of the boat-rental outfit until Marquesi's could fly someone out to ride it back. The store manager's lips tightened. "You're not planning to do the same thing, are you?" he asked. His voice had turned hostile. "I'll make it worth your while," Alex said.

"Damn worth my while. You told me this wouldn't happen."

Alex made the arrangements, and we gave the canoe over to Bessarlik Boating. By the way, did the owner remember somebody else doing this? Her name was Vicki Greene. "The horror lady," she said. "Sure. I'd never forget her." "Why? Did she say anything out of the way?" "Oh, no. Simply that I've read all her books. I loved meeting her." "How'd she seem?" "How do you mean?" "Was she all right? Did she seem upset, or anything like that?" "No. She was really nice. Why? She's okay, isn't she?"

Vicki had mentioned she was headed for Morningdale. It was a town with a history of werewolves. Sounded like Vicki's kind of place. Alex and I arranged transportation, and an hour later we'd leased a skimmer and were on our way again. Below, I noticed one of the beanbags drifting near the edge of the river. And suddenly, while I watched, a long green tentacle whipped out of the trees. A moment later both the tentacle and the beanbag were gone. "Your imagination," said Alex. Maybe. By then, as far as I was concerned, tentacles were minor stuff.