I shuddered. “Ugly.”
“Take a look.” She clasped my hand and I felt a spritz of her hunter power. Immediately my perception sharpened. The German style Santa Claus was mindless hunger, while the other was—pure evil of a kind I’d never experienced. And both of them were draining lethal amounts of life force energy from two of the children. “Oh, God! Those kids won’t last much longer!”
I was heading toward the railroad car when Rebecca clamped hold of my wrist. “Wait! If you barge in without thinking, you’ll end up as the second course of their meal, which will do those children no good.”
I swallowed hard, knowing she was right. “What now? Don’t tell me there’s nothing we can do!”
“I’m going in,” she said quietly. “With luck, I’ll take them both down. At the least, I’ll distract them and slow them down until you can bring help.”
I snorted. “So you can get yourself killed while I’m safely out of the way? Not going to happen. Even if I went to the surface, I wouldn’t know where to look for help. We’ve already concluded that the regular police won’t be much help.’
She shrugged as she peeled off her backpack. “My odds aren’t great, but not hopeless. They’re so distracted now that an assault might take them by surprise.”
“Let’s hope so, since I’m going with you. That ought to improve the odds. As I said, I’m good at shielding.”
She hesitated, understanding the logic but still reluctant. “I haven’t known you long, Simon, but well enough that I don’t want to add you to the possible casualty list.”
An outrageous idea that could change the odds struck. “We need to do deep level bonding, the kind where all barriers are dropped and total trust is necessary. We’ve already exchanged energy and thoughts to the point of being halfway there.”
Rebecca sucked in her breath. What I was suggesting was the equivalent of asking for sex five minutes after meeting. Deep bonding is very rare unless the Guardians involved are incredibly close. Even husbands and wives didn’t always want that. But if we succeeded, our power would be multiplied.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “If I die here, I might take you with me. If we both survive, we’ll always be connected.”
“I won’t mind. But if we are to do this, it must be quickly.”
Rebecca gazed into my eyes for a long moment, as if weighing whether I was a better alternative than almost certain death. Then she smiled wryly as she extended both hands. “You’re a credit to mad scientists everywhere, Simon.”
“Mad certainly.” I clasped her hands, and we plunged into each other. Eyes closed, I sank down, down, down, into the most private places of my spirit. When I reached absolute center, I forced myself to release all the defenses that hid my secret embarrassments and flaws and insecurities: being a skinny young science geek no girl would look at, losing patients despite my best efforts, the lingering grief of losing both parents young. I bared my soul and the essence of Simon Harlowe to Rebecca.
She did the same, and in an instant I knew and felt her own insecurities, the impetuousness she was always battling, the aching grief over a child she felt she should have saved from a lethal fall, but couldn’t. All her strengths and weaknesses.
As our energies met and merged, it was like healing fire sweeping through me. Yes, she was human with the usual imperfections, but what a woman she was! Brave, kind, and honorable to the marrow. Her spirit was the most joyous dance I’d ever known.
“Oh, my….” Rebecca breathed. “You’re the greatest peace I’ve ever known.”
She was courage and action, I was healing. On this deepest level, we balanced. I would have loved to stay in that space to savor the harmony and the essence of Rebecca, but we couldn’t afford to waste another vital moment. Opening my eyes, I said, “If we don’t make it out—it’s been a pleasure knowing you, Rebecca Malmain.”
She gave me the swift, predatory smile of a hunter. “One for all and all for one!”
Before I could say it should be one for both and both for one, we were tearing hand in hand across the cracked, dusty concrete toward the railroad car. I hastily prepared my strongest defensive shielding.
When we reached the car, Rebecca released my hand and leaped up the two rusty steps to the nearest door. “Start fast and keep moving,” she snapped.
Barely pausing, she raised a hand to the door, and it shattered under her touch. She vaulted into the car shouting, “Tally ho!,” the cry of British Guardian hunters.
I was only two steps behind her. As she’d planned, our entrance shocked the demons into temporary paralysis. The interior was decorated like a robber baron’s private brothel, the vulgar furnishings now shabby and tattered. The music came from a large, chipped gilt music box with a battered ballerina turning on the lid.
Four of the children sat on a padded bench along one wall, their eyes glazed and unresponsive. A binding spell plus a trance spell, I guessed.
And everywhere there were antique toys saturated with magic. An army of six inch tall Napoleonic lead soldiers stood against one side wall, a high shelf held china-headed Victorian dolls with menacing eyes, and an alpine train garden had been carefully built on a table at the far end of the car. There was another rocking horse, rattier than the one in the shop window on the surface, but radiating malevolent power.
Halfway down the car, the Santa and an ugly, gnome-like man sat in facing seats. Each held a child’s head, hands clamping to their victims’ temples as they drew out the vital life force. The gnome held the little blond girl, who was close to the point of no return. Santa had one of the twin boys, the soft light brown hair falling over his fingers.
When we broke in, they looked up, startled, their eyes unfocused as if drunk. Bonded to Rebecca, I was able to draw on her hunter magic to confirm that the Santa was a regular human who had been possessed. We should try to save him if we could. The gnome, though, was pure evil. I sensed that he’d trafficked in dark magic for a long time. Having learned how to summon a demon, now he reveled in its vicious power.
Rebecca sprinted down the car and without so much as a hitch in her stride, hurled a blast of magic at the men. Santa jerked backwards, releasing his hold on the little boy. Unconscious, the child slid to the floor, looking unbearable fragile but alive.
The gnome, though, focused fast. Snarling, he hissed, “Guardians!” and flung out a hand, deflecting Rebecca’s energy blast back at us. I activated my shield to protect us and the children sitting on the side bench.
