Had they passed behind a tree?
Had they been there at all?
Off to his right he heard a knocking sound, like a woodpecker at work. But did they do that at night? He hadn't thought so.
'Oh my God…' Her voice was so high he almost couldn't hear it. He looked where she was looking. To the left, moving behind a deadfall, was someone moving on all fours. Or some thing.
'About that precognition…,' he said.
'It's not as well developed as my disruption of electrical systems,' she whispered.
He had several responses to that. He didn't say any of them.
Footsteps behind them, fast and light. Matt sped up, dragging the girl by the hand. They rounded a boulder covered in black moss and came to a small clearing containing an amphitheater of cut stone. But between them and the amphitheater was something unexpected: a glowing oak. Someone had strung white Christmas lights all along its thick trunk and low-hanging branches.
The girl began to scream uncontrollably.
Matt almost joined her.
The oak: it wasn't Willy Willow or Betty Birch. It was definitely the Head Tree.
Why?
Because it was hung with heads.
Every bough seemed to have one. Matt recognized the silver-bearded facility administrator, eyes rolled back into his skull, slack jawed, black tongued, bloody chinned. And the dark-skinned CMO with the white mustache, now a lot less dignified than in his portrait in Admin. And the head nurse, her brow still furrowed, her mouth a dismayed slash, her neck hanging in strips from her jaw like the tentacles of a jellyfish. And there were a dozen more dangling from the tree's glowing limbs, garish ornaments for a holiday in hell.
A pattering sound: one of the heads was new, was still dripping.
Matt spotted it, recognized the one dark eye, the slanting teeth, the bee-stung lips…
'Dindren,' Matt whispered.
Above him, a flapping sound.
Looked up.
Wings outspread… glowing eyes…
No time!
Impact.
Darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Matt blinked painfully.
Drew a breath.
Tried to put his hands on his face-and couldn't.
Opened his eyes against the fluorescent glare.
He was in a white room, strapped to a white bed.
Only it wasn't a bed. But it did have a pillow.
And straps.
Five straps, to be exact. Two pinned his ankles, two pinned his wrists, and one was wrapped around his waist. Next to the thing he was on was a large steel console on rollers. It was covered in dials and switches. Behind it was a woman.
'Well, well,' growled the short, toad-faced wreck. 'Looks like Lover Boy's joined the land of the living-just in time to leave it.'
'Hirotachi,' he croaked. His throat was dry. Head ached. Had he ever been this thirsty before? Impossible. 'Where is…' He tried to remember her name. Then he had it: Annica.
Toad-Face grinned. 'Your little girlfriend? She's out back, all set for the show.'
'Show?'
'Oh yeah. Don't worry, you won't miss it. But since it's not the witching hour yet, and since you seem to have some seriously antisocial tendencies, we thought we'd give you a little treatment- on the house. Maloria? Let's get this show on the road.'
Matt stared in disbelief as the fat lady he'd spent the afternoon with waddled up to the console and-avoiding all eye contact-picked up a handful of red and yellow wires and a roll of tape. Her lips were clamped in a tight line as she walked to the side of the bed, squeezed some gel out of a bottle with a farting sound, and spread it on his head.
'Maloria?!' he said.
She just kept spreading the gel. It was cold and slick.
'Maloria, what are you doing? Maloria?!'
'Save your strength,' Hirotachi chuckled. 'She's a little more obedient when the night shift's on duty. Aren'tcha, Fatty?'
No answer. Maloria's big eyes had narrowed to slits, and her lower lip covered her upper as she attached the wires to his forehead with duct tape. She backed away quickly.
Matt looked back to Hirotachi. 'Whatever you think you're-'
The words died in his throat, along with every thought in his head, as a current of electricity shot through his body, making his back arch and his teeth snap together.
It ended. He collapsed back against the table with a gasp.
'Well, whaddaya know?' Hirotachi said, patting the console. 'It still works! This is an old, old system. We've got a newer one, but it's pretty painless. I like the vintage systems myself. Reminds me of the old days, you know? Gives me a real'-again she flipped a switch-'charge.'
More juice this time: held cruciform, he lunged upwards, going nowhere, teeth clamped, fingernails digging into his palms, vision shot with fire in alternating patterns of
RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK
A cool, wet breeze.
The smell of lotus.
And the light: soft and forgiving, the kind that falls from a sickle moon in spring.
Beneath his feet, the creak of the wooden bridge that spanned the pond at its narrowest point. The stars above the water were reflected in its shallow depths, and between their reflections were pale water lilies and hyacinth, whose fragrance made the air lush and thick with promise.
He was standing next to his wife, Janey. They stood on the bridge, watching the moonlight make a path of light on the water. Nearby, he could hear the sounds of the band playing at Janey's sister's wedding. The party had been going for two hours when he'd realized that he'd lost track of his wife in the crowds of sweating, laughing, drinking relatives, and on an impulse he'd walked to their favorite spot, guessing that she might have wanted to get away for a few minutes. He'd guessed right.
'Hey, you,' he said, running his hand along her bare back. She was wearing a beautiful backless green silk number that had cost a fortune. It'd been worth every penny when he saw her standing next to her sister at the altar, hair up, eyes wet with emotion, looking so radiant and alive.
She let out a murmur at his touch and leaned into him. He moved his hand up to the base of her neck and inhaled the soap-and-sandalwood scent of her auburn hair. He loved her scent.
'I just needed to get away for a bit. Get some fresh air.'
'Me, too.'
'I saw that my uncle Robin cornered you by the punchbowl. Please tell me he didn't…?'
'Try to drag me into that goofy pyramid scheme he's got, the one with the tax referrals? Oh yes.'
She squeezed his hand and groaned. 'I'm so sorry about that.'
'No prob. Although I did have to drag your aunt Myrna onto the dance floor just to get away from him.'
