enough for her to see the scars on my thigh. “I was on foot, night falling fast, then along came an old Jeep full of Afghans, all impeccably dressed, going to a wedding.”
“A wedding party in the middle of Afghanistan?”
“Not the middle. The boarder area near Pakistan. And they weren’t the wedding party, just the musicians. They offered to take me to the village, get someone to patch me up, send word to my people.”
“The military?”
“No. My people weren’t the military.”
“Journalists?”
“Listen, here’s the part you need to know. I was bleeding and dirty, but they made room and drove me to the village where the locals found me a bed for the night.” I stared at the wall, reliving it now, seeing it all as if it were happening again. “It was a small bed, made for a child. I couldn’t lie flat, and I was sitting up, listening to the wedding music playing across the way. The sound lessened my pain, put me at ease. That’s the thing about music, it changes us, alters our perceptions. At least, it’s always been that way with me. So I was sitting there, no longer hurting . . . and then suddenly everything exploded. It was a drone attack . . . direct hit on the celebration.” I paused, swallowed. “Score one for the insurgents.”
“The insurgents had drones?”
“No. The American forces had drones, but insurgents had information. They provided the coordinates, claimed the place was a Taliban safe house. That’s the way they like to do it. They get others to settle their differences. Keeps them from having to take out their own kind.”
I had a pretty well stocked first-aid kit, and after she’d soaked for a while I used it to patch her up. Then I went downstairs and cleaned her blood from the door. When I got back she was lying on my couch, staring at the ceiling. “Got any beer, Lorcan?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I need to talk, Lorcan. Trust me. Drinking will make it easier.”
I got us each a bottle, then sat beside her as she described the Quicksilver she had seen, a creature only vaguely human. “He uses the music as a shield. Somehow, in the lights, performing for the right people, he hides what he really is.”
“The right people.”
“Yeah. People like you. Like you said, music alters moods, changes perspective—”
“Changes a monster to a man?”
“I know. Sounds crazy. But it explains why he started singing before stepping into the lights, and why he left the stage so quickly when the music stopped.”
“I really don’t think—”
“You were there, Lorcan. You saw—”
“A charismatic performer—”
“But that’s not what I saw, and that’s why Quicksilver came for me, would have killed me if I hadn’t gotten away.”
There was no denying her wounds, but I needed more proof. “You took pictures, right? There’s no music on a still image. We should look—”
“We can’t.” She sat up, wincing the way she had when sitting in the tub. “Quicksilver took my jacket, pulled it off me when I tried getting away. My camera and wallet were in the pockets.”
“We should call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
I had been sitting on the floor beside the couch. Now I got up and paced, thinking.
“My wallet, Lorcan! You know what that means? It knows who I am, where I live!”
“Maybe not. You said it pulled the jacket off you. Are you sure it kept it, took those things from your pockets?”
“No, but—”
“Will you be okay on your own for a while?”
“You leaving me?”
“I need to check on some things.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you. Hang on.”
I went into my bedroom. My guitar case leaned against the cabinet, right where I had put it after returning home. It was the same Stratocaster I’d been playing since high school, the same one I’d come back to off-and-on ever since, trying to become the musician I knew I really didn’t have the chance of being. I had a decent ear, but my marketable skills lay elsewhere.
I picked up the case, tossed it onto the bed, then opened the closet and got out my field clothes, vest, knife, pistol—tools of my other trade.
She called from down the hall, voice weak and frightened. “What’re you doing?”
I dressed and hurried back to her, the weapons secured under the vest. “You remember where Quicksilver ambushed you? The street name, any landmarks?”