8

I was awake. I was home and I was awake. I was in my house and this was my real world. I knew too, instinctively, instantly, that I would never go back to Rondua, no matter what happened to my son. _That_ was why Chili had allowred me to remain while he explained the test: he knew I would go away forever.

I threw the covers off me and fled the room, the bed, everything. The apartment was pitch-black, street light my only guide. I ran for the living room to see what was there, if Pepsi or Chili were there. But nothing was there. Then something. . . .

«Oh!»

Eliot, who'd been spending nights on the couch since Danny had gone, shot up and looked wildly at me. «What is it? What's wrong, Cullen?»

«Where's the baby? Where's Mae?»

«God, Cullen, what happened? What's wrong?»

«Where is the _baby_?»

«In bed, in her crib. Take it easy! What's the matter with you? What's wrong?»

I moved the last few steps to the crib and looked down for my other child, praying _she_ would be there and all right. She was! Awake and looking very angrily at me.

Scooping her up, I held her to my hot chest. She began to cry, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her being there, well and safe in my arms.

Holding her to me, I looked around the room. The couch held only scattered sheets and a blanket, a pillow crushed up against one of the armrests.

«Cullen, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?»

«I had a Rondua dream. I think Pepsi's dead there. I don't want to talk. Let me walk around and then I'll tell you.»

Eliot sat on the couch and watched me pace the room. He wore bright red flannel pajamas and his hair stood up all over his head. I thought of when I had touched Pepsi's hair; it had only been a moment ago. I kept walking the room.

Some time later I looked at Mae and saw she'd gone back to sleep in my arms. I went to the crib and laid her carefully back there, covering her with the blanket Pepsi had so recently fingered. I watched Mae to make sure she existed, even in sleep.

I went to Eliot's chair on purpose and sat down. The chocolate stain was still there on the arm. All of my energy was gone.

«Do you want some coffee? Let me go make you some Decaf, Cullen.» Eliot was already halfway to the kitchen when he said it.

I listened to him rummaging around in there and thought of Jack Chili drinking water from the tap. Was his glass still in the sink?

«You don't have any Decaf left, Cullen. You want me to go and get some?»

«No, I'm all right.»

«Don't be silly. Wait here and I'll get some down at my place. I've got the blend you like, that I buy at 'The Daily Grind'. It'll only take me two secs to do it.»

At the door he turned and asked loudly if there was anything else I wanted. I didn't want anything; I wanted to know about my son. I heard Eliot unclicking the different locks on the door, heard him say he'd be back in two shakes.

The door hit the wall with a tremendous _Bang_! Looking up, I heard Eliot say, «Hey!» and then throw his hands up against something which was going on outside in the hall.

Then there was another sound – the loudest, hardest _thud_ I had ever heard.

Eliot made another noise, then fell straight backward into the hallway. It was all too fast for me to register what was happening. I watched Eliot fall; saw the rainbow of blood from his head rise and follow him down, all the way down to the floor.

Someone knelt over him and smashed his head. One, two, three more times. Each sound was softer and wetter.

Then Alvin Williams got up and, quick as an animal, was in my apartment dragging Eliot in after him.

I finally understood what was happening. As I moved to my left, for Mae, Williams saw me and shouted at me to stay still. He closed the door behind him with his foot and I saw he was wearing brand-new white sneakers.

He had what looked like a crowbar in his right hand. There was blood and other colored things all up and down it.

«Don't move! Don't do anything!»

He bent over Eliot and smashed the crowbar into the unmoving body again. Straightening up, he slid one glistening hand down the shaft of the bar and wiped what came off on his pants.

«_Nanika nomimasho_. That's Japanese! It means, 'Do you want to have a drink?' I know Japanese now. I studied!»

As he started into the room, I threw a hand out against him, as I had with Weber Gregston and the gypsy. My arc of purple light flew across the room, touched, landed low on the crowbar and sent a green-gold bolt up and down it.

Williams watched as it lit up his hand. He laughed happily. «Great!»

But the light did nothing else. There was only that light – no more power behind it. I put out my other hand the same way. Again nothing. Williams moved deeper into the room. The crowbar still glowed.

«You didn't _write_ me. You don't _like_ me!»

I got up, lost my balance, fell back again. He watched.

«What do you want, Alvin?»

«What do I want? I want a letter! You've got to write me a letter!»

Furious now, he swung the crowbar out wildly to the side and hit a standing lamp. It flew over and went out as soon as it hit the floor. The room lost half of its light and the baby started screaming.

«A letter? Okay, let's do a letter. I'll write you a letter: 'Dear Alvin – '»

«Not _that_ kind! A letter with stamps on it! From Japan. Arigato! Send it to the shogun.»

«Okay, Alvin, let me get some paper. I've got some in the bedroom. Let's go in there.»

«Goddamn it, I want that letter. Why don't you have paper in _here_?» Five feet away, he stepped toward the crib. I paralleled his movement.

«Don't touch the baby. Just leave the baby alone, Chili! Don't touch my baby!»

The name stopped him and he looked at me, confused. In desperation, I threw my hand out at him again. It had worked once with Weber.

The arc came again, only this time slowly and lazily. It drifted in many colors across the room. Williams put up his hand, caught the light and put it in his mouth. He ate it.

He took two more steps toward the crib, looking at it now. I beat him there and stood with my back to it.

The crowbar still glowed. A light from inside Alvin's stomach glowed. My light. My magic. All gone.

«Hello, Mrs. James. Remember me? Yours very sincerely, Alvin Williams.» He brought the flickering crowbar up over his head. He wanted me dead, so I threw myself on to the floor as far away from the baby as I could get. Maybe he would stop when I was dead.

A noise like a bomb shook the room and for an instant I thought I had already been hit, because at the same time a white light enveloped us all.

Williams spun around, his arms still high and cocked and ready.

The light was everywhere, but the sound was gone. Only white, full light and silence.

I heard something hit the ground with a hard _clang_. Alvin grunted once, then jerked sideways and fell near me. I saw what was left of his dead, split face. Something had hit in the middle of that face and everything had collapsed inward.

«Mom?»

Pepsi stepped out of the white light and came to me. On my knees, I reached up for him but he shook his head. I wasn't allowed to touch him.

«You won, Pepsi!»

He nodded and smiled. «Is that Mae, Mom? It is, isn't it?» His voice was his own, only hollower and much, much further away.

He went over to his sister and looked at her through the bars of her crib. I was on all fours when I watched my children meet for the first time.

Mae saw him and reached out her hand. She opened her mouth, closed it, smiled; she knew who he was, I'm sure of that.

«Hello, Mae.»

I closed my eyes. «I love both of you. Mae sees you, Pepsi. I know she sees you. I love you both and you're both here now.»