Taltos - By Anne Rice Page 0,97

see what distracted Yuri. He turned just as Ash bore down upon him, reaching the curb, and reaching out to grab Stuart Gordon’s arm.

The recognition was indisputable. He knows what I am, thought Ash, and his heart sank slightly for this man. This man, this friend of Aaron Lightner, was guilty. Yes, without question, the man knew him, and gazed up into his face with mingled horror and a deep secretive recognition.

“You know me,” said Ash.

“You killed our Superior General,” said the man, but this he had latched upon in desperation. The confusion and recognition went far beyond anything which had happened only last night. Gordon went into a panic and began to claw at Ash’s fingers. “Yuri, stop him, stop him.”

“Liar,” said Ash, “look at me. You know full well what I am. You know about me. I know you do, don’t lie to me, guilty man.”

They had become a spectacle. People were cutting out into the street to get around them. Others had stopped to watch.

“Get your hands off me now!” said Stuart Gordon furiously, teeth clenched, face coloring.

“Just like the other,” said Ash. “Did you kill your friend Aaron Lightner? What about Yuri? You sent the man who shot him in the glen.”

“I know only what I was told about these things this morning!” said Stuart Gordon. “You must release me.”

“Must I?” said Ash. “I’m going to kill you.”

The witches were beside him. He glanced to his right and saw Rowan Mayfair at his elbow. Michael Curry stood right beside her, eyes full of venom as before.

The sight of the witches struck new terror in Gordon.

Holding tight to Gordon, Ash glanced to the corner and quickly raised his left hand for his driver. The man was out of the car, and had been watching the whole proceedings. He slid behind the wheel at once, and the car was turning to come down the street.

“Yuri! You’re not going to let him do this to me, are you?” Gordon demanded. Desperate, brilliant, counterfeit indignation.

“Did you kill Aaron?” Yuri asked. This one was almost insane now, and Rowan Mayfair moved to restrain him as he pressed in on Gordon. Gordon began to writhe in courageous fury, scratching again at Ash’s fingers.

The long Rolls-Royce jolted to a halt beside Ash. The driver stepped out immediately.

“Can I help you, Mr. Ash?”

“Mr. Ash,” said the terrified Gordon, who stopped his vain struggling. “What sort of name is ‘Mr. Ash’?”

“Sir, there’s a policeman coming,” said the driver. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Let’s get out of here, please,” said Rowan Mayfair.

“Yes, all of us, come.” Ash turned and dragged Stuart, stumbling, off the sidewalk.

As soon as the back door of the car was open, he flung the helpless Gordon into the backseat. He slipped in beside him, forcing him to the far side. Michael Curry had slipped in the front, beside the driver, and Rowan climbed in now across Ash, her skin burning him as it touched his leg, and took the jumpseat opposite, as Yuri collapsed beside her. The car lurched, then took off.

“Where shall I take you, sir?” the driver called out. The glass panel was sliding down. Now it had vanished into the back of the front seat and Michael Curry had turned and was peering past Yuri, right into Ash’s eyes.

These witches, their eyes, thought Ash desperately.

“Just get out of here,” said Ash to the driver.

Gordon reached for the door handle.

“Lock the doors,” said Ash, but he didn’t wait for the familiar electronic click. He clamped his right hand on Gordon’s right arm.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” declared Gordon, with low, thundering authority.

“You want to tell me the truth now?” asked Ash. “I’m going to kill you the way I killed your henchman Marcus. What can you tell me that will prevent me from doing it?”

“How dare you, how can you …” Stuart Gordon began again.

“Stop lying,” said Rowan Mayfair. “You’re guilty, and you didn’t accomplish this alone. Look at me.”

“I will not!” said Gordon. “The Mayfair witches,” he said bitterly, all but spitting out the words. “And this thing, this thing you’ve conjured from the swamps, this Lasher, is it your avenger, your Golem?”

The man was suffering exquisitely. His face was white with shock. But he was far from defeated.

“All right,” said Ash quietly. “I’m going to kill you, and the witches can’t stop me. Do not think that they can.”

“No, you won’t!” said Gordon, turning so that he might face Ash as well as Rowan

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