The Dark River

“Would you like some coffee or a cup of tea?”

“I want to see Vicki. Winston said she was in Ireland.”

“Please sit down.” Linden gestured to the opposite chair. “A great deal has happened in the last ten days.”

Hollis put down the manila envelope that had contained his disguise and sat on the chair. Linden got up, plugged in an electric kettle, and measured coffee grounds into a French press. He kept glancing at Hollis as if he were a boxer evaluating a new opponent on the other side of the ring.

“Are you tired from the flight, Monsieur Wilson?”

“I’m okay. This country is just a ‘different room.’ That’s all. I’ve got to adjust to the changes.”

Linden looked surprised. “You’ve read Sparrow’s book?”

“Sure. Is that against the Harlequin rules?”

“Not at all. I had the book translated into French and published by a small press in Paris. Maya’s father met Sparrow in Tokyo. And I met his son before he was killed by the Tabula.”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s talk about that later. When am I going to see Vicki, Maya, and Gabriel? Your e-mail said you’d answer all my questions when I got here.”

“Vicki and Maya are on an island off the west coast of Ireland. Maya is guarding Matthew Corrigan.”

Hollis laughed and shook his head. “Well, that’s a surprise. So where has Gabriel’s father been hiding all these years?”

“It’s just his shell-his empty body. Matthew crossed over to the First Realm and something went wrong. He hasn’t come back.”

“What’s the First Realm? I don’t know all this stuff.”

“L’enfer,” Linden said, and then realized that Hollis didn’t know French. “The underworld. Hell.”

“But Vicki’s all right?”

“I’m assuming she is. Mother Blessing, an Irish Harlequin, left a satellite phone with Maya. During the last few days, we’ve called and called, but no one has answered. Madam was quite annoyed about this. Right now, she’s traveling back to the island.”

“Maya told me about Mother Blessing. I thought she was dead.”

Linden poured boiling water into the French press. “I can assure you that Madam is very much alive.”

“And what about Gabriel? Can I see him? Winston said he was in London.”

“Mother Blessing brought Gabriel down to London, and then he was lost.”

Hollis twisted around in his seat to look at Linden. “What are you talking about?”

“Our Traveler went searching for his father in the First Realm. He’s still alive, but he also hasn’t returned.”

“So where’s the body?”

“Why don’t you have some coffee first.”

“I don’t want any goddamn coffee. Where’s Gabriel? He’s my friend.”

Linden shrugged his massive shoulders. “Go down the hallway…”

Hollis left the kitchen and walked down the hallway to a shabby little room where Gabriel lay on a bed. The Traveler’s body was limp and unresponsive-as if he was trapped within the deepest level of sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hollis touched the Traveler’s hand. Although he knew that Gabriel probably couldn’t hear anything, he felt like speaking to him.

“Hey, Gabe. This is your friend Hollis. Don’t worry. I’m going to protect you.”

“Good. That’s exactly what we want.” Hollis turned around and saw Linden standing in the doorway. “We’ll pay you five hundred pounds a week.”

“I’m not a mercenary and don’t want to be treated like one. I’ll guard Gabriel because he’s my friend. But first I need to make sure that Vicki’s all right. You got that?”

Hollis had always favored the aggressive approach when someone was trying to order him around, but now he wasn’t so sure. Linden bent down and drew a 9mm semiautomatic pistol from an ankle holster. Seeing the gun and the cold expression on the Harlequin’s face, Hollis thought he was dead. This bastard is going to kill me.

Linden reversed the handgun and offered Hollis the grip. “Do you know how to use this, Monsieur Wilson?”

“Sure.” Hollis took the automatic from Linden and hid it beneath his shirt.

“Mother Blessing will reach the island tomorrow. She’ll talk to Mademoiselle Fraser and see if she wants to travel to London. I’m sure that you’ll see the young lady in a few days.”

“Thank you.”

“Never thank a Harlequin. I’m not doing this because I like you. We need another fighter and you’ve arrived at the right time.”

Hollis and Winston Abosa walked up Chalk Farm Road. Most of the shops on the street were selling different styles of rebellion: black leather motorcycle pants, vampire Gothic dresses, or T-shirts with obscene messages. Punks with lime green hair and pierced eyebrows huddled in little groups, enjoying the stares of the passing citizens.

They bought cheese, bread, milk, and coffee, and then Winston took Hollis to an unmarked door between a tattoo parlor and a shop that sold fairy wings. A room with a bed and a television was on the second floor. The bathroom and kitchen were down the hall.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Winston said. “If you have any questions, I’m at the drum shop all day long.”