lighter on her feet than Harry. And the way she was able to manoeuvre her way around a dark house was quite remarkable.
So thought the Necroscope ... while deep inside he didn't find it remarkable at all. But he was glad she came anyway, on this night of all nights. It seemed to have meaning other than sex. Indeed it must have, since they didn't make love but were content enough simply to lie in each other's arms ...
The morning was grey, overcast, and B.J. seemed pleased and in fairly good spirits. Pleased with the weather, anyway. The Necroscope couldn't say how he felt: 'odd' might best describe it. They breakfasted, took Auld John's car - B.J. didn't say why - and headed south-west along a road that paralleled the Spey on their right and the Cairngorms on their left. It was early and the roads through the valley were empty.
'How far?' Harry asked as they turned onto the main road. His voice and mood were very subdued.
'Just three or four miles,' she told him ... and then because she had been doing a lot of thinking and dreaming during the night, she abruptly changed the subject. 'Harry, would you mind telling me your thoughts about life?'
'Life?' He was looking in his rearview mirror again.
'Birth, life, death: the whole thing. I mean, how do you view it? You're still young - we are young - but we get old, we die, and it's all over.'
Harry knew all about that - knew how wrong she was, that death wasn't the end, and it wasn't 'all over' - but that was something he couldn't talk about. Right now, though, he could lie; because without consciously thinking about it, he was in control of himself. But maybe he didn't have to lie. That's a bit morbid, isn't it?' he said. 'What's brought this on?'
'Oh, I don't know,' she answered, trying to find a way to explain. 'It's just that as we get older, we seem to leave so much behind. Family, friends, even lovers - especially lovers. One partner is older, or gets old faster, and dies faster, and leaves the other to go on. It seems unfair, makes having someone to love seem pointless. Doesn't it?'
'Is this us you're talking about? Are you worrying about the future?'
She sighed and said, 'I ask a question, and you answer it with a question!' She could switch him on, of course, and find out how he felt that way. But in their situation that would be ... unfair? And what if she didn't like the way he felt? But:
'Very well, if it's important to you,' he said. The way I see it, life is some kind of learning process. We are bom, and we don't know anything except we're hungry. We grow older, and we start to learn things. Eventually we're "educated"; we figure we know everything! Except life isn't like that. The older we get the more there is to
understand, and less time to understand it. So that by the time we die - ' (which was something he knew all about) ' - we're only just coming to the conclusion that we don't know any fucking thing!' And then we really wise up - except it's too damn late! For by then we can't tell anyone how clever we are ...
'But what if we didn't get old?' B.J. said. 'I mean, what if we didn't have to, if there was a way to avoid it?' She knew she was treading on thin ice. She must be careful not to bridge the gap between Harry's conscious and unconscious knowledge. It wouldn't do to have the two start leaking into each other.
She needn't have worried, for Harry wasn't listening. Suddenly his knuckles were white where his fingers gripped his arm rest, and his gaze was riveted to his rearview wing mirror.
B.J. glanced in the central rearview mirror ... and gave a start! 'What the. . .?'
The station-wagon from yesterday, with at least two occupants from the red-robe troupe, was bearing down on them like a hawk stooping to its prey. And the way it was coming, it seemed aimed at their car, at them! So that a thought flashed unbidden through Harry's mind:
Is this it? I saw their monastery. That was Kyle's talent, warning me about my future. Are these people the end of my future? A bunch of kamikaze monks trying to force us of the road? Is it as simple as that? And