1'

You open a de Lint story, and like the interior of a very genial
Pandora's box, the atmosphere is suddenly full of deep woods
and quaint city streets and a magic that's nowhere near so far
removed as Middle Earth'
Jarncs P. Blaylock

~Mr de Lint's handling of ancient folklore to weave into an
entirely new pattern has never, to iby knowledge, bees
equalled'
Andre Norron

'Charles de Lint is a fol}singer as well as a writer and it is that
voice we hear . . . both old ard r~ew, Iyric, longing, touched
by magic'
Jane Yolen

'De Lint's touch is deft asd clean'
Paric Godwin

' . . . knows his folklore insido out'
fianrasy Review

P}aisc for Cbarles de Lint's Moonheart

'MoonAcarr is a deeply drawn book in which the fantastical
forces of warmth and cold meet and fight, rather like OppOSiDg
elements or tides. De Lint's poetic prose focuses on more than
the umplistic battle between good and evil. It investigates the
emotional nature of evil and shows how it can suborn the most
powerful of creatures . . . reaches to the very heart of
bumaniq . . . Moonhcarr is powerful stuff'
Fear Magazine

'De Lint is one of those rare wnters who can blend traditional
fantasy with an atmosphere of terror and suspense'
S.F. Chronicle

'An eclectic romp ot a book . . . excellent . . . read it!'
Intenone

'Compelling . . . well worth savouring'
Srarbursr

Also by Charles de Lint
in Pan Books
Moonheart

Charles de Lint

GREENMANTLE

PAN BOOKS
Leadoa. Svdue7 aud Auchland

Frst published 1988 by Ace Bool~s, a divis~oa of the
Berkley Publishing Group, New York
First published in Great Britain 1991 by Pan Books Ltd.
This edinon first published 1992 by Pan Books Ltd.,
Caveyo Place, London SWIO 9PG
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2

Charles de Lint 1982

ISBN 0 330 31111 5

Printed in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives p~
This book is sold subject to the condfition that it shaD not,
by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out,
or othenvise circulated without the publisher's prior consent
ia any form of binding or cover other than that in ~vEich
it is published and without a dmilar condition including thi.
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

Grateful acknowledgment is made to:
Tar,jth Lee, for the use of the quote from her short story 'Brood-Mantle'
~rhich first appeared in Isaac Asimov's Scicnce Fiaion Magazinc,
Nov. 1985, copyright @) 1985 by Tanith Lee.
Jane Yolen, who introduced me to the poetry of Joshua Stanhold
in her book about his daughter and their relationship, Thc Stone Silazus
(PhilomellThe Putnam Pubbshing Group), copyright 62)1984 by Jane
Yolen.

Robisr WiDiamson for permission to use a portion of 'Song of Mabon'
from Seketed Wntings 1.øU~83, copyright (~1984 by Robin
WiDi~on, For ftuther infatmation on Robin WiDiamson write: Pig's
Whisker Muric Press, P.O. Box 27522, Los Angeles, CA 90027; or Pie's
Whisker Music Press, BCM 4797, Londoa, WC1N 3XX, England.

for
Joanne & John Hams

CONTENTS

...............PROLOGUE        ;  1

..............................PART ONE: The Riddles of Evening        13
..............................PART TWO: The Huntsman's Guile          113
..............................PART THREE: A Fire of Bones        247
..............................EPILOGUE       323
..............................AUTHOR'S NOTE       328

...................................

_

:

f

:'

_

:~

.

. _

PROLOGUE

Io Pan! lo Pan!
Come over the sea
From Sici1y andfrom Arcady

-Aleister Crowley,
from "Hymm to Pan"

Pan? Pan is dead. Or is that a
pun-Pan-du pain-bread-
peine-pain-the body of Christ?

-Tanith Lee,
from "Blood-Mantle"

M'91TA, August 1983

By the time Eddie "the Squeeze" Pinelli was five hours dead,
Valenti was on a Boeing 747 halfway across the Atlantic. He
sipped~the beer that the steward had brought him and stared out
the window into the darkness. He usually felt an honest regret
that thirgs had to get as far as they did before he was called in,
but not this time. Pinelli had been a capo in the New York City
Cerone Family, one of Don Cerone's special boys, but now the
sonovabitch was dead and the only thing special about him was
that those famous fingers of his weren't going to put the squeeze
on anyone anymore. That suited Valenti just fine.

Don Magaddino had called the hit-Valenti's own boss. "It's
pewnal," he'd told Valenti. '4That's why I called you, capito?
It's between you and me, Tony. Okay? I want that pezzo di merdc
dead and then we don't talk about this no more."

Eddie had got a little itchy and a lot crazy and put the squeeze
on one of the girls the Don kept on the side. Valenti understood.
It had been personal for him, too. Not so long ago, Eddie had
tried to malce a little time with Valenti's woman, Beverly Grant.
Only Bev wasn't going to get up and walk away like the Don's
girlfriend had when Valenti had walked in on her and Eddie earlier
tonight. Bev had taken a twelve-story drop and what was leR
of her you wouldn't want to see walk away.

Valenti had wanted to take Eddie down so hard then that it
hurt, but the Don wouldn't give him the word and a soldier didn't
take down a capo without an okay from way up. Cosifan tuni-
that was the way of the world. But Valenti was patient. He'd
known that soor;er or later Eddie, being the asshole he was,
would lose it. All Valenti'd had to do was wait.

After the sweltering oven that was a New York City summer,
the Maltese weather was glorious. The air was so clear that he
could see for miles across the low hills with their tiered fields
being ~eadied for the fall harvest. He had the taxi d~op him off at

3

a4 Charles de Lint

the end of the fare and walked the rest of the way to the villa,
taking his time. When he reached the door, he took off his
sunglasses and brushed his thick dark hair with his fingers.
Then he knocked. Mario opened the door himself.

"lesus, Tony," he said, his gaze darting nervously behind
Valenti then back to his friend's dark features. 'What the hell
are you doing here?"

Valenti smiled. "Ciao. Mario. That's some welcome. Drop by
anytime, you tell me, so here I am and-"

"You're a dead man," Mario cut in. "You know thatT'

? Whattre you talking about? The sun down here driving
you a little crazyT'

Mario grabbed his arm and propelled him into the house,
slamming the door behind them. "I got a woman here,?? he said.
'Y got kids. They come looking for you here, what's going to
happen to them, 'eyT'

"You got some problem, MarioT'

"The only problem I got, Tony, is you." He stood back and
studied Valenti's face. "You don't know, do youT'

Valenti frowned. "All I know is I came a long way to see
you, but you don't look too happy to see me.'?

"Yw know the Squeeze is dead?" Mario asked.

"Sure I know that. I'm the one that hit hirn."

"Madonna nua! You are ctazy."

"But not that crazy," Valenti said. "Magaddino called the
hit.'?

"Oh, yeah? And who called the hit on himT'

"WhatT'

"Your padrone is dead, Tony, and the word is you hit h~n.
You hit him, you hit that girlfriend of his-the one with tbe red
hair-and you hit the Squeeze. And let me tell you, a lot of
people, they're not too happy about it, capito? They want your
balls, Tony. They called me. I'm retired-what? Five years now?
But still they called me, asking if l'*e~seen you. Asking if I want
to make a little money. You know what I'm talking aboutT'

Valenti stepped away from the door and moved slowly into
the villa's spacious living room. He sank into a canvass chair
and regarded his friend.

Mario Papale was fifty-eight now, but he wore his years wdl.
His hair was a silvery grey-had been since he was thirty-his
dark skin even darker than Valenti remembered, tanned from the
Mediterranean sun. He was wearing a pair of white cotton
trousers and a short-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned.
Watching

GREENM~

5

the way he wallted across the room, Valenti Icnew that the old
Fox hadn't lost a thing, retired or not. Maybe you never lost it.

"They caL3ed youT' he asked. "That quickT'

"What did you think, TonyT' Mario replied as he sat down
in front of him. '`This is a cane Grosso-a big shot we're talking
about. Not just a soldier like you or me."

"I didn't hit him. Eddie-yeah. But it wasn't pewnal. No
matter how I felt, I had orders."

"We're talking a padronc is dead here, Tony. Your orders
don't mean shit now because Magaddino's dead and you're
buying the rap for the hit."

"I've been set up."

Mario didn't say anything for a long moment. He studied
Valenti, telcing his time about it, then slowly nodded, "Chi lo
sa?" he said finally. Who knows? "But I believe you. You
never could lie to me, Tony. So what're you gonna do? You
need anything? You need money? A pieceT'

Valenti shoolc his head. "I've got a place in Canada-a safe
place. Clean. No one knows who I am."

"Too close," Mario said. "These bastardi'll smell you out
line dogs after a bitch in heat. You got to go someplace where
when you say you're a soldato they ask what anny, not what
family, capito?"

"This place I set up years ago, Mario-just like you told me
to, remember? Even in the fratcilanza a man needs a place
where he doesn't have to worry about his family. I've got
money there. And guns."

"They're never gonna stop hunting you down."

Valenti shrugged. "I was getting tired anyway."

"Bullshit."

"Okay. So it's bullshit. You think I should turn myself over
to Ricca's justiceT' Ricca Magaddino was the Don's oldest son
and Rood to inherit his empire.

Mario laughed humorlessly. "This afternoon you're staying
with me," he said. "Tonight I drive you to the coast and
smuggle you off the island. I know people with a boat. You
need papersT'

Valenti shook his head. "These men with the boat. . . T'

"They're friends-not cousins."

"Okay. Grazie, Mario. I wouldn't have brought this down on
you if I'd known."

"You think I don't know that? Now let's forget this shit.
Come vai, 'ey? It's been a couple of years. Talk to me, Tony.
Maybe we don't meet again, so we take what time we got,
okayT'

Ch~ de Lh*

* * *

Mario's wife was half his age, a shy, dark-haired won~n
named Maria who spoke only Maltese. Mario had grianed when
introducing her to Valenti. ..Mario and Maria-how you like
that, 'ey?" She and the children were staying with ha sister in
nearby Marsalcala when the two men made ready to leave the
villa.

"The nightstre quiet hae," Mario said. "And dark. Just follow
me and don't get lost, capito?"

He went into his bedroom and unlocked a chest from which he
took a p~ur of American .38 calibre handguns. Valenti acceptod
one and nodded his thanks as he thrust it in his belt.

"I hope we don't need these," he said as they went down the
hall.

Mario nodded. "My car's got no shocks and the road's tho
shits," he said, "so maybe you better watch the family jewels,
'eyr'

"Sure," Valend said with a grin.

Mario hit the lights, throwing the hallway into darkness. Valenti
opened the door and the night explodbd with sound. The
first shot hit Valenti in the shouldbr and spun him around. The
second and third spat into the doorjamb, showering bdh men
with splinters. A fourth bullet took Valenti's right bg from under
him and he fell to the floor.

"Bastard`!" Mario roared: He got off a couple of shots,
then slammed ~he door shut and bolted it. "We're in deep
now," he muttered as he glanced down at his friend. Thrustin

his gun into his belt, he hoisted Valenti up in a fireman's lift
and headed for the back of tbe house. By the time the soldan
broke in the front, the only thing left in the hallway was V~
butt's blood.

"Check out baclc!" one of the dark-suited men ordered, but
they already had men out there and he knew no one was going to
get through them. ~

The intruders fanned out through the villa, shooting into
closets, then ripping the doors open, kicking apart the beds,
checking any place whae a man might hide. But they didn't find
a thing. Then word came from the back of the villa that both
limmy Civella and Happy Manzi were dead and did Fucceri want
them to check the fields?

"Sure, sure," Louie Fucceri said. They didn't call Papale the
Silver Fox just because of his hair. It wouldn't surprise Fuccai if
they were halfway to Milan by now. He found a phone that bis

GREEpMANIIE

men had mercifully left intact and put a call in to his capo to
report their failure.

LANARK COUNTY, Febn~ary 1985

The tire blew on Lance Ma~well's pickup about a half mile past
the DarlingLavant township line. The truck skidded in the slush
as Lance brought it to a halt on the side of the dirt road. He got
out to check the damage, cursing under his breath.

"Stay, Dooker," he told the big German shepherd that was on
the passenger's seat.

He hunkered down for a look, then stood, hitching up his
pants. Christ on a cross! You'd think the sucker'd hold out for
just a couple more miles till he got home.

"Okay, Dooker," he called to the dog. "Come on down, boy."
The German shepherd jumped down from the cab of the pickup
and pushed his nose into Lance's hand. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. Go
catch yourself a squirrel or something. I got work to do."

He fetched the spare from the back of the pickup, leaned it up
against the side panel, then dug out his jack and tire iron from

under a mess of cord, tools and canvass. Glancing to see where
the dog had got to, he spied Dooker sniffing along the side of the
road, back toward the turn-off that led up to French Line. The
blow-out had stranded him in front of the old Treasure place.
Frank Clayton's weather-beaten "For Sale" sign was still out on
the snow-covered lawn. Sure, Frank, he thought. The day somebody
buys this craphole from you's the day I stand you for a case
of two-four.

Dooker returned to see what he was doing as he got the jack
under the back of the truck and started to hoist the vehicle up.
"Get outta the way," he told the dog when it got too close.

He hadn't been the one to find old man Treasure-that joy'd
been reserved for Fred Gamble, who'd driven up to collect on a
grocery bill but had trooped right into the place along with everybody
else after the cops had hauled the body away. You never
saw such a thing. Buddy Treasure mustn't have thrown out a

ùewspaper since before the war.

They were piled ceiling-high along the walls of every room
"d hallway. Thousands of the suckers, all yellowed and stinking

aCh~ de L"

the way newspaper does when it gets wet. There were magazines too.
Old copies of the Star Week~y-he hadn't seen them for some time.
Life. MacLeans. Time Magazines going back to when most of the cover
was just a red border. All kinds. But thst wasn't the worst.

It seemed that in the last year Buddy'd decided to stop throwing
out his garbage or using the upstairs can when he had to go for a crap.
The kitchen had more refuse in it than the town dump. There was
mold and shit you didn't even want to think about growing over
everything. And talking about shit-Buddy'd tsken to dropping a load
in the corner of the living room snd wiping his sss with a piece of old
yellowed newspaper.

Weird fucker-no doubt about that. No wonder the missus took up
the kids and beelined out of there without a word to nobody.

That was nine, ten years~ago now, Lsnce thought as he removed
the blown tire. Longer since the missus took off. Willie Fuller had
bought the place from the bank snd tried to fix it up but he just
couldn't get the stink out of it. He sold it to some out-of-towner who
had stsrted to take down the wales, really getting ready to give the
place a good going over. But he quit halfway through the job and the
place'd been up for grabs ever since, Usted with Frank's agency. And
the day Frsuk sold the sucker. . .

"Shit," he muttered as he studied his spare. The tresd was worn as
smooth as a baby's sss. Well, it~d get him home. He finished up in a
hurry, tossed the old rim with the flaps of tin hanging from it into the
back of the truck. The jack and tire iron followed it with a clatter.

"Dook!" he called, looking around for the big shepherd. "Hey.
Dooker! Get your ass back here-double-time."

He spotted the dog over in the field behind the Treasure place.
Dooker had his head lifted high li~e he was listening to something, his
broad head tilted to one side as he studied the woods beyond. Lance
started to call out again, but then he heard it, too. A quiet sort of
piping sound, low and breathy. It made him feel a little strange-hot,
like the way you get when the weather warms up and springtime grabs
you by the balls, telling you it's time to make babies.

He took a couple of steps in the direction that the sound was
coming from and started to get all sweaty. He was getting hard, his
penis pushing up against his jeans. Lanark County, like most of
Ontario, was in the middle of one of those February thaws that come
up for a few days, then buggers off with a laugh, but that

_

GREENMANnE 9

was no reason for him to be feeling the way he was. His penis was so
hard it hurt. His chest was all tight and it was hard to breathe. His ears
buzzzed with the piping sound that came drifting across the
fields-not loud, but it pierced him all the same.

He thought maybe he was going to come right there, right in his
pants on the side of the road, but then as suddenly as he'd become
aware of the sound, it left him. He staggered to lean weakly against the
side of the pickup.

Christ, he thought. That's it. My first honest-to-Jesus besrt attack.

He was still weak. It took all of his energy to lift his head and look
across the field. He could see Dooker, still listening, still watching the
woods though there was nothing there that Lance could see. Then
suddenly the biB shepherd shook himself, looked around and came
bounding back across the snow toward the truck. By the time Dooker
was pushing his nose up against Lance's hand, Lance was breathing
easier again.

Gotta see the doe, he told himself. No more farting around. He
says diet, I'm dieting this time. Jesus.

He called Dooker into the cab, slowly settled in the driver's seat
and started the caginc up. Giving the fields behind the Treasure piece a
final considering look, he put the truck into gear and pulled away.

TORONTO, March 1985

The music was contemporary Europop, but the dancer's moves were
pure bump-and-grind. The MC had announced her as Tandy Hots:

"And Tandy's always randy, boys-you know what I meaar' Sitting
at his table, nursing a beer, Howie Peale figured he knew just what the
MC meant.

She couldn't be more than seventeen tops, and that body. Oh, she
had the moves down all right. Teasing little moves that made him want
to shout along with some of the other guys in the joint, but he held
bsck because he didn't want to look like an asshole to his new friend.
Earl Shaw wasn't even watching the show. He was just sining there,
his bull-neck hunched over the table as he leafed through a day~ld
Toronto Star. He was drinking whiskey -straight, with a beer chaser.

Charles de Llnt

Howie'd met Earl in the can-they were both in the Don fail
on drunk and disorderly charges at the time. Right off, Howie
knew Earl was his man. Howie wasn't too big and he wasn't too
smart. He had survived the street scene by latching onto someone
who was both. He'd run errands, do a little of whatever, just to
Iceep on the good side of whoever was his main man at the time.
Right now that man was Earl.

Earl was the kind of guy you could really respect. Smart and
tough and he didn't take shit from nobody. Even the screws in the
can had been a little leery of him. Frst night they were out, he
and Earl hit a gas bar and made off with a clean $243 plus change
just by sticking a gun in some pimply-faced kid's nose. Earl'd
even split fifty-fifty. No way he was letting go of this gig, Howie
thought.

Tandy Hots was down to her G-string and pasties now, moving
slowly across the stage until she was right in front of their
table.

"They really get off on being up there, huh, EarlT' Howie
said. He licked his lips, looking up into the dancer's crotch.

Earl grunted and glanced at her. "Who gives a fuck what they
lilce," he said. "lust so's they do what they're told."

Howie nodded. The dancer moved further down the stage and
he tried to imagine a woman-like that being his, doing just what
he told her to. If they were in a hotel or someplace, just the two
of them, instead of this strip joint on Yonge Street . . . His dreamy
mood !eft him as he sensed Earl stiffen across the table.

"Loolc at this," Earl said.

He turned the paper around so that Howie could see. There
was a photograph of a good-looking woman accepting a checlc
from a Wintario official. She wasn't built like Tandy Hots,
Howie thought, but she wasn't bad at all.

- He read the caption. Her nan* ,was Frances Treasure and
she'd just won two hundred grand in the lottery. He shook his
head slowly. Iesus. Two hundred grand! And all she was planning
to do with it was buy back the place where she'd grown up
and fu: it up.

"I tell you, Howie," Earl said, "somebody's looking after
me."

"What do you mean?"

Earl put his finger down on the photograph. "See this broad'

"Yeah. Lucky bitch."

"She's my ex," Earl said.

Howie lodced at the photo again. "No ~it?"

GREENM   ~11

"No shit,. Ear1 said. He looked Howie in the eye. "And yw
Iconw what I think, Howie, m'manT'

Howie shook his head.

"I figure she owes me," Earl said. "Course, first we got to
find her. That could take a little time. But then . . ." He grinned, a
slow and wicked grin that gave him a crazy look. Howie grinned
back. Sonovabitch had a weird streak in him a mile wide, no
doubt about it, but there was no way Howie was lefflng go of tbis
gig. Not when the good times were just starting to roll.

"What're we gonna do thenT' Hov~ie asked.

Earl's grin grew wider. "Then we're gonna party."

Part One:
THE RIDDLES OF EVENING

Pan pipes a tune but once
And all theforests dance.

-Joshua Stanhold

ù from "Goatboy"

And suddenly they knew that the
mystery of the hills, and the deep enchantment
of evening, had found a
voice and would speak with them.

~ord Dunsany,
from The Blessing of Pan

CHAPTER ONE

Frankie followed the moving van down the short driveway and
watched it head off down the road, then she turned to loolc at the
house. The diffeecnce between thc half-gutted structure that had
stood there when shc bought the place and what was there now
was phenomenal. In the bright sunlight of a perfect day in late
May, the site of all her childhood nightmares had been transfonned
into thc house of her d~eams. A little smaller, perhaps,
but cozy enough for her and Ali.

Therc was sUll a lot of work to be done. The workmen had left
their typical battlefield of litter and debris behind them, but Fram
kic was looking forward to doing some work around the place
with her own two hands. If anyone had told her that she'd be here
now, even a day before the Wintario draw. . .

Shc found herself grinning foolishly. It was still hard to bclieve
that she'd won. S200,000. Even after thc $26,O00 she'd
paid for what was leR of the house and its land, and thc S60,000
or so she'd had to put out for renovations, she still had over
$100,000 in the banlc. Any day she expected someone to come up
to her and tell her it was all a mistake, that she had to give it all
baclc, but it waso't going to happen. Shc wouldn't allow it to
happen. Not now.

She made her way slowly back to the house. Opcning the
front door, she almost ran into her daughter who was carrying a
staclc of empty boxes down the stairs.

"Watch where you're going, kiddo," she said.

Ali polced her head around the boxes. "Are the movers gone?"

"Yup. We'rc on our own now-out in the backwoods of 1
a~lc County where few mcn da~e to go."

"Oh, mom!"

Franlcie laughed and took the boxes from her. Ali had her
curly blonde hair but wore it short instead of in a long spill down
her back u Franlcie did. She also had Franl~ie's strong Teutonic
feabues-the broad nooe and brow, the wide mouth-and eya

15

such a dark blue that the pupils sometimes got lost in them. They
were often taken for sisters which delighted Frankie, who was
thirty-four, at the same time it embarrassed her fourteen-year-old
daughter.

"Are you finished with your roomr' Frankie asked.

"For now. I thought I'd give you a hand in the kitchen and
then maybe we could explore a bit."

Frankie tossed the boxes into the big screened-in porch that
led off from the kitchen's back door. "Tell you what," she said.
"Why don't you let me finish up in here and you go ahead exploring.
Then when I'm done we can have a bite to eat and you
can show me all the hot spots. '

"You sure you don't mindr' Ali asked, obviously torn between
wanting to get out into the sun and feeling it unfair to leave
her mother working alone.

"Trust me."

"Okay." She gave Frankie a quick kiss, then scurried out the
back door before either of them could change their minds.

Franlcie leaned against the sink and watched her daughter go
swinging through the knee-high weeds in the backyard. She'd
found a stick and was whacking the heads off of dandelions
stirring up clouds of parachuting seeds in her wake. She looked
happy. Frankie just hoped it would last.

When they'd driven out for the first time, Ali's only comment
about the house had been "Gross-o." But she seemed to enjoy
sitting in when Frankie went bver the blueprints with the contractor
and it wasn't as though she wasn't used to moving. Poor kid.
They'd been in a different apartment for almost every one of
Al''s years. They were both looking forward to some stability.

When Ali moved out of sight behind a screen of trees, Frankie
turned baclc to the kitchen, chose a box and began to arrange its
contents m a cupboard.

Ali was happy, just walking along and swinging her stick.
Whack. She watched the seeds expl~ at the impact, then slowly
drift toward the ground. Some made it. Some got tangled up in
the weeds and grass. Some caught the wind just right and went
floatmg off. Whack. She knew her mother was worrying and she
w~shed she wouldn't. Moving out here was the first good thing to
happen to them in a long time.

Not that the fourteen years of her life had been bad. It was just
that l~v~ng out here, away from other kids her own age, she didn't
beve to go on pretending that she was into all the things that they

~A__~1'~ 8~

..

were. Whack. If her mother knew how she really felt, she'd have
some justification to worry, but Ali wasn't about to let that cat
out of the bag.

How was she supposed to explain that she didn't like her
peers, that she wasn't into hanging around, drinking, smoking
cigarettes or dope, running after boys, groping in some backseat
or on a living room couch when the parents were out . . . Who
needed that stuff? Whack. Maybe she couldn't yet put into words
what it was she did find important, but at least she knew what
wasn't.

Out here she could do what she wanted. Go for walks. Read.
Find out who she wanted to be without the pressure of other kids,
or the pressure of her mother desperately hoping that her daughter
was fitting in, that all the moving around from neighborhood to
neighborhood wasn't messing up her underdeveloped psyche.

Ali grinned and whacked another weed. Underdeveloped.
That was something else the other kids liked to rag her about.
The fact that she was still skinny as a beanpole, not filling out
like the rest of them. Whack' Who needed that? She'd seen what
a good figure had done for her mother.

She lifted her stick to hit a tall weed-that was one thing she
was going to have to do right off: learn the names of all the plants

and trees and stuff around her-when she paused, stick frozen
high in the air. Looking at her from the side of the road was a
rabbit.

Ali didn't dare breathe. It watched her with liquid brown eyes,
nose twitching. Jeez, it was cute. She lowered the stick slowly,
not wanting to appear threatening, but as soon as she moved, the
rabbit turned and bounded off into the woods. Wow. There were
probably all kinds of animals right in their backyard. Rabbits and
raccoons, deer. . . maybe even foxes.

She had a couple of Tom Brown Jr. wilderness guides back in
her room and she could hardly wait to get them out of whatever
box they were in and put them to some use. This was going to be
a great summer.

Whack, whack. She hit a couple more weeds and started to
hum as she followed the road again, wondering where it led. It
took her around a bend and she could see buildings about threequarters
of a mile further on. The road seemed to go on into the
woods beyond them and she decided to go that far and maybe
have a peek at the buildings. She wouldn't go too close-she
didn't want to end off her first day by having some cranky old
farmer getting pissed off at her because she was trespassing-but

-
~
u"~ ~ ~n

she did want to see what tbe place was like. Plcasc don't kt them
have any }ids.

The mad just sort of piddled out as it got to the forest. It
loolced as though h had continued once, but now it was overgrown
and only a footpath went on through the trees. It'd be fun
to see where it went to, she tbought as she turned her attention to
the buildings.

The set-up was much like what she and her mom had-a
renovated farmhouse with an old gray-timbered relic of a barn
towering up behind it and a few out-buildings. But unlike their
own place, bere the grounds were neatly tended with a hedge
running alongside the road, some apple trees up by the barn and
flowe~beds in f~Dnt of the house, filled with multi-colored blossoms.
The forest closed in around the landscaped lot on three
sides, dense and darlcly mysterious to Ali's city-wise eyes. The
smell of cut grass hung in the air. She moved a little closer her
stick scraping in the dirt by her sneakem.

"What can I do for you, kidT'

The voice startled her, lifting goosebumps on her skin. She
tu~ned to see a man standing up on the other side of the short
hedge and she wondered where he'd popped up from. She hadn't
soen him as she'd wallced up. He was dressed in jeans, with a red
bandana around his head line a sweatband. His hair was thiclc and
black and his muscular body was darlcly tanned except for a
number of white puckers and lines that stood out against the darlc
slcin. His eyes were a pale blue and reminded her of Paul Newman'
s. She'd just seen B`ach Cass~y and thc Sundanec KW for
tbe umpteenth time on the late show last weelc. As he moved
closer towards her, favonag his nght leg, she malized the marh
on his body were scars. Lots of them.

"I said, what can I do for you?"

"Uh . . . nothing," Ali stammered. "I'm just, uh, walking-
you hlow?"

"This is private property," he said. .'Maybe you better go hi}ing
somewhere else instead-olcay?"

Ali nodded quickly. "Sure. I'm sor~y. I just. . . that is my
mom and I just moved in down the road. I was just checlriag out
the neighborhood...."

Something changed in his eyes as she spolre and he Wn't
bon quite so menacing anymore. "What? The place they were
warking on this spring?"

Ali nodded ag~n. He st~l her for a long moment, that

~lu:en mAr~ ~ LC.

smiled. "I was just gonna have some lemonade, kid. You want
someT'

Ali didn't like the idea of going off into some strange guy's
house, but he was going to bc their neighbor and she didn't want
to get off on the wrong foot with him right away. With that W
leg, she thought, she could always outrun him.

"Sure," she said at last.

"C'mon." He led off, limping, and shc fell in beside him. "So
what's your name, kid?"

Ali glanced at him. "How come you keep calling me 'kid'?"

"I don't Icnow." They'd reached his front steps. "Take a seat.
I'll bring the lemonade out. You w~nt it on the rocks?"

"What?"

"With ice."

"Sure. Thanks."

"Hey, wait'll you taste the lemonade first. Betty Crocker I'm

not."

He disappeared into the house and Ali sat down on the step&.
What a weird thing to say, she thought. But it was a good line.
She'd have to try it out on mom the next time she made dinner.
She was still t~ing to remember the little swagger he'd put into
his shoulders as he'd said it when the screen door banged open
and he was baclc.

He'd put on a white shirt while he was inside. It made his tan
seem darker. The ice clinked in the glasses as he handed her one.
She was about to thank him when she remembered what he'd said
and decided to taste the drink first. He grinned, as though reading
her mind, and then she had to giggle. She covered it up by talcing
sip.

'Vrhanks,'' she said then. "It's good."

He took a sip himself and set his glass down on the steps
between them. "Yeah, it's not so bad. So what's your name?"

"Alice Treasure-but everyone calls me Ali."

"You don't like AliceT'

"They might as well've called me Airhead, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I kinda like Alice. My name's
Tony Garonne."

"Have you lived here for a long dme, Mr. GaronneT'

"Tony. Call me Tony, okay? And I'll call you Ali. Yeah, I've
lived here for awhile. Not steady, you understand, but I've owned
the place maybe fifteen years."

"My mom grew up in the place we just moved into."

a20 a~arJes de ~

"No kidding? What happened? Did she inherit the place
from her old man or something?"

"No. She didn't get along too well with her parents. She took
off when she was pretty ywng, but her mom had already left her
dad by then and . . . well, we just got some money so shc
bought the old place and had it fixed up." Why am I babbling
lil~e this? she asked herself.

"Yeah, well, they did a good job." There was a moment's
silence and they both worked at their lemonades. "So it's just
you and your momma living there?"

Ali nodded. "Yeah. My dad . . . we don't talk much about
h~m."

"Hey. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I don't really remember him. He took off when I
was just a kid. But he was . . . pretty rough on my mom."

"Guy like that..." Tony began, a frown creasing his face,
then he paused and found a smile. "Sn where'd you move
fromT'

"Ottawa."

"It's gonna bc different for you up here. I mean, it's not that
far from the city, but it's quiet-you know? Evenings, it's just
really quiet. And dark. Talces some getting used to for some
people."

'Y think I'm going to like it." She finished her drinl; and set
the glass down. "I've got to be going, Mr. . . ah . . . Tony."

"M a-Tony. I like that. It's got a ring to it, don't you thinkT'

Al' laughed.

"Listen," he added. "You're welcome to come round here any
time you want. The reason I wasn't so friendly earlier is I get
lcids joyriding up this road all the time. I mean, who needs it?
And somet~mes they want to mess around in my yard and I
don't l~ke ~t. I just want some quiet. But you're a neighbor and
you seem okay. Bring your momma up sometime and I'll cook
you up some pasta. I make a mean spaghetti. What do you
sayT'

"Good. I'll walk you to the road."

"You don't have to," Ali said, thinking about his limp.

He caught the glance she gave it. "No, it's okay. I gotta give
it a lot of exercise. I don't move so quick like I used to, but I can
still get around."

Ali wanted to ask him how he'd hurt it but she decided to
wait for another time. She'd already been pushing her luck as it
was. He seemed friendly enough now, but she was sure he'd be
happ~er without JOme gawky teenager lilte her hanging around.

GREEN~1"

21

"You come back for another visit now," he said as though
reading her mind again. "And if you or your momma need
anything, you just give me a call, olcay?"

"Olcay. Thanks . . . Tony."

"Cino," he replied.

"What's that mean?"

"It's like 'so long' or 'take care'. But it means 'hello', too."

Ali smiled. "Cu~o, " she said and headed off down the road.

She looked back as she neared the curve to sce him still
standing at the end of his lane, so she gave him a wave. When
he waved back, she continued on her way.

"Aid he's got a limp n Ali said over a supper of hamburgers,
"and he talks a little funny, like . . . oh, I don't know. As if he
doesn't ILE\OW his grammar all that well."

"All, that's not nice."

"Well, it's true. But I'm not saying it to make fun of him. I like
him."

"Make sure you don't bother him too much."

"He wants us to come for dinner sometime. He's going to
make spaghetti."

"What else?" Frankie asked with a laugh. Then she put her
hali-caten burger on her plate and leaned closer to her
daughter. "Ali," she began. "He didn't seem the kind to . . . you
know . . . make trouble for you?"

"Well, you never can tell, can youT'

"Ali!"

"Oluy, olray. No, he seems all right. And besides, I had my
trusty stick with me."

"Yes, but-"

"And besides that, I could outrun him any day of the week!"

Frankie shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

They cleaned up the dishes together, then spent the
evening arranging and rearranging the furniture in the living
and dining rooms. By the time it was ten-thirty, they were both
so tired they could hardly keep their eyes open.

"G'night," Ali mumbled as she shuffled off to her bedroom.

Frankie tousled her hair and kissed her on the brow. "See
you in the morning, kiddo."

It's going to be okay, Frankie thought as she undressed in
her own room and got into bed. Thank God, it was going to be
okay. She had the feeling that everything was finally going to
work out for them. She looked around at the unfamiliar
shadows in her

Ch~es de L~

new bedroom, then rdled over sad fell asleep with a smik aa her
face.

As the last light went out, a figure stirred in the woods behind
the house. It lifted its head as though to test the wind for scents
sad slowly crept forward. When it reached the house, it ran its
fingers along the paneling of the porch door, its nsils making a
d~ght rasping sound, then it backed away.

Stadight glintod on what might have been tiny horns pushing
up from smidst its h~ur, or it might just have been reflechug from
bone ornaments that the figure wore in its dark curls. An ob~
server, had there been one present, would have been hard put to
teD ~n thst poor light.

Nodding to itself, the 6gure pullod a hat from its belt and
pushed it down over its hair. It returned to the forest where it put
the house behind it and bounded away through the trees, as
graceful and quick as a deer.

CHAPTER TWO

ARer Ali leR, Valenti went back to raking his lawn. He worlcod
slowly, thinking about the girl. He didn't know what it was about
her, but she was the first person he'd been able to relax around
since all the shit went down a couple of years ago. She was a cute
Icid-slfinny, sure; but he wasn't in the market for kids anyway.
He just liked her. There was something about her that drainod
away the constant tension he felt around other people. He went
back over their conversation, smiling when he remembered her
"Mr. a-Tony". He hoped she'd come back, hoped her old lady
wouldn't think he was some lcind of pervertito looking to put the
squeeze on her little daughter.

Yeah, he thought as he finished loading the cut grass onto his
wheelbarrow. He'd like to see her again. He was usually passably
friendly with whomever he ran into in the area, but it was all
putting on a show. He had to be careful-tbe fratellanza had
their fingers in everything, everywhere. He should know. And if
word ever got out that he was up here . . . But you couldn't just
hide out-being a recluse caused just as much taLk as flash did.
You had to balance it, play the game of fitting in, but never let
your guard down.

"Don't go for flash," Mario had taught him. "Nobody likes a
big shot, you know what I'm saying? But don't be humble either,
or you get no respect. Be clean and polite and everybody's going
to like you, nobody's going to talk about you too much. In our
business, Tony, that's the way of the world. Cosi fan n~tti. "

Which was okay when you had your fa nily around, but it got
lonely for a guy in his position. Sometimes you just wanted to sit
down with someone and take it easy-not shoot off your mouth
or nothing, but just relax. And if it had to be with a skinny little
kid, well, that'd be the way it was in his world.

He dumped the grass out by the barn, stowed the wheelbarrow
and rake inside, then went into the house to take a shower. When
he was done, he cleared the fog on the minor and studied him

23

24 Ch~es de L"

self. Hc'd seen the lcid's eyes on his scars. He should probably be
more careful, but what the hell. If he had to walk around the
place in a three-piece, he might as well be in the slammer.

The word on the street was that the feds had taken him in on
their Witness Protection Program, that they were letting him cop
a plea so long as he fingered a few of the bosses. Anyone who
believed that didn't know Tony Valenti. He had no fight with the
fratellanza. All he wanted was the guy who'd set him up and
wben he got hold of that pezzo di merde . . .

Valenti sighed and unclenched his fists. He was working to
forget that and getting pretty good at it. What good was remembering?
He couldn't do anything about it, anyway. Yet when he
tried to forget, he could feel himself changing, could feel the
hardness inside going soft, and he didn't want to hear wbody
saying that Tony Valenti'd gone soft. Thinking about it, about
what had been taken from him-that was all he had left. These
days it all just confused him. Sute, the fratcllanza was only p~
nding services to people, giving them what they wanted, but the
longer Valenti was outside the family influence, the more things
didn't seem so cut and dried.

The brotherhood was a system of siste~nazionc. giving order to
chaos. It had its roots in the compagnie d'armi of eleventh century
Western Sicily-small private armies set up by the land!
owners to defend their families and estates from marauding
bandits that eventually became the cosche that still ruk the area
today. The original men of honor were a rough-peasant version of
the knights of chivalry; the present-day Sicilian cosca, or family
an~t, took its name from a corruption of the dialect term for
artichoke: a composition of sep~te leaves forming a solid unit.
The similarities between them and their ancestors were only surface
ones now, while the gap between the modern coschc and
their counterparts in North America was immense.

It was a media fiction that the criminal families of North
America were overseas branches of the Sicilian Mafia, that they
were all directed by some capo di tutti capi, a boss of bosses who
ruled from the island homeland. In order for the fratellanza to
exist on such an international level it would have to be discipUned
and centralized, which would make it easy for police organizations
to discover, penetrate and destroy. The true reason
that the brotherhood could wt be effectively fought was that it
was many things at the same time, a many-headed beast that
could live for some time without any head at all.

The roots of the ~.e~,d in North America stemmal

GREENM~

25

rather from some few Sicilian immigrants who had been ~11time
mofia in their homeland. They brought with them the
coschc's unique ability to move in and out of written laws, a
capacity to grasp situations immediately, to invent solutions to
intricate tangles, to gauge exactly the relative strengths of contending
parties, to work amazingly complex intrigues and coldly
control their smallest acts while, at the same time, allowing
themselves to abandon all those controls to generous enthusiasms
when it was safe to do so.

Few ancestors of those original immigrants survived in the
Americaniratellanza, but there were still some, such as the Magaddino
family that Valenti ha,d belonged to. Don Magaddino had
been interested only in protecting his family, his property and
business, remaining successful without having to resort to handling
either prostitution or drugs.

Valenti was taught from the cradle that he must always hdp
his family, first by his uncle-bis own father being deceased-
and then by Mario, who had sponsored his membership. He was
taught to side with the friends of tbe family and fight their common
enemies, even when the œriends were wrong and the enemies
right; to defend his dignity at all ›osts and never allow the smallest
slight or insult to go unavenged; to be able to keep secrets-
omert4, the law of silence-and always beware of official
authorities and laws.

This he had always done, but now in the eyes of tbe fratcllanza
he had fumed on those who had respected and worked with

him, f~rst by hitting Eddie Pinelli for personal reasons, and then
hitting his own padrone. Neither was true, but the fact tbat the
fratellanza believed it was true had outcast him. There was no
court he could go to for justice. He was already sentenced and in
the brotherhood the only sentence was death. It was only now,
forcibly cut off from all he'd known, that he had begun to
question.

A man had to have honor, sure. And respect. But then Valenti
thought back to how it was when he got into the business and
what it was like now. When he thought of how easily the fear by
which the fratellanza ruled had turned on him. . . He shook his
head. He no longer knew what was right and what was wrong.

"Ch lo sa?" he asked his reflection. Wbo knows?

The only reason he was still alive today was because he'd
worked under Mario Papale.

"You've got to trust in the family," Mario had told him once,
"but you got to trust in yourself first, capito? You take some of

Z6 Charles de ldnt

that money you're making, just a bit at a time, and you invest it
m a safe place where no one knows you, no one can reach you-
not me, not your uncle, not even the padrone. You understand
what I'm saying?

"Maybe-and I hope to God this is the way it works for you

Tony-maybe you'll never need that place. You can use it for
holidays, 'ey? But someday that place might be all that stands
between you and being dead, Tony. So you keep it. You cover
your ass going to and from it. You keep it under a name you
never use for no deals. You keep some artillery there and you
l~eep a lot of cash, and then you'll have something the otber
sohdan don't-you got security then, Tony.

"The soldiers that got no place to go like that, they've got to
wallc around careful all the time. But you, you can be patient.
You don't have to kiss nobody's ass you don't want to. You get
respect that way, Tony. All the time, you get some respect. You
don't talk with a smart moutb to the capi, you don't throw your
wdght around witb the other soldiers, but you got something
special all the same. Capito?"

"Sure," Valenti said to the memory. "I understand all too well
now."

He turned away, got dressed and went downstairs to make
himself some dinner. Afterwards he sat outside witb a strong
capuccino and watched the sunset. He sat tbere in the darkness
for a long time, not brooding,just remembering.

Thirty-eight now, he'd never married and was glad of it, the
way things had turned out. But time was that he should loosen up
a bit. Nothing stupid, but he was lonely. If the lrid came baclc in
the next few days, he'd see if she and her momma'd take him up
on his offer of a spaghetti dinner. Hell, maybe he'd just give
them a call.

He wondered what the mother was like, then shodc his head.
That you don't need, he told himself. Be a bit friendly, okay, but
he didn't need to complicate his life~by pufflng the squeeze on a
neighbor. For one tbing, he couldn't move away when things
soured. And things, he thought on the basis of too many shortterm
affairs, always soured.

He was about to go back inside, but paused as he reached for
his empty coffee cup. The sound was so soft that, if he hadn't
been half-expecting it, he might never have heard it at all.

It came from the woods north of the house, a whispery piping
that set the hairs at the nape of his neck a-tingle. The brooding
tboughts that had been plaguing him since Ali left for home dw

GREEN~

27

solved into a wash of quiet pleasure. He lowered himself slowl~r
back into his chair and closed his eyes.

The life that had been his was gone and with it his worries, the
music told him, but the strengths that had let him stay ahead of
the pack were still tbere. There was no need to be rid of them.
All he had to do was channel them into something different.
Peace might never be his, but he could still know contentment of
a kind.

He sighed, shifting in the chair. The movement broke his concentration
asd in the next instant the sound was gone. He opened
his eyes to look at the forest.

"One day," he said softly, "tbis leg's not gonna give me so
much trouble and then I'm coming to look for you."

The first time he'd heard it, he'd thought it was some kind of
a bird, but that was before he r~alized that the music was something
tbat a bird could never make. Its melody dipped and
shifted, now low and breathy, aow high and skirling, but always
quiet, always just on the edge of his hearing as it ran up and
down the musical scale in shivering lifts and falls lilcc no bird
ever sang. Always so distant, so quiet.

Sometimes it was so quiet he couldn't hear it at all. He could
just feel it out there, calling to him. There was more than a
mystery in it. It promised him something if he could ever discover
its source. What, he didn't know. But something. And he
knew he would aever regret finding it when he did.

He stayed listening for a long while after, but it was gone for
the evening and at last he went inside. His dreams were fuD of
hidden presences that night, of things that stayed just out of sight,
the way the music stayed mostly just beyand his hearing. He'd
never been able to remember his dreams before coming here from
Malta that last time. Now he often had those kinds of dmams,
and he always remembered tbem in the morning.

C~ A "TC'D T~D==
11~ 1 "A 1 ~ACeL:

Lewis Datchery was reading by the light of a kerosene lamp. His
Ups moved soundlessly as his gaze followed the line of pant
across the page. His book was propped up on the kitchen table
and he was sining on a plain-backed wooden chair that his father
had made. The light of the lamp made a circular spill, leaving
most of the one-room cabin in shadow. From the walls, the spines
of thousands of books faced out, the lamp light glinting off the
titles of those with gilt lenering. A cup of tea, sining at his
elbow, had long since gone cold. Absorbed in what he was readmg,
it was a moment or so before the scratching at the door
registered.

His gaze lifted to the old clock on the mantle as he removed
his glasses and laid them on the book to keep his place. It was
just past eleven. He rose slowly, the weight of his eighty-six
years weighing heavier on his thin frame late at night than it ~Ud
~n the morning, and went to open the door.

"'Lo, Lewis," his visitor said.

She came in like a cat, taking a few quick steps inside, then
paused to study the cabin's shadowed corners. A floppy widebrimmed
hat hid most of her featutes, and the tangle of hair that
sp~lled from underneath it had twigs and bits of boves caught up
in its dar~ curls. Burrs and thorny seeds had attached themselves
to the bottoms of her jeans. Her jaclcet was at least a size too big
fot her.

When she was satisfied that the room was empty except for
Lewis and herself, she sidled over to the chair across from where
Lewis had been sitting and settled her diminutive form upon it.
She immediately looked as though she'd been there the whole
night, as though the cabin was hers and Lewis the newly arrived
visitot.

Lewis smiled and stirred the fire awake in the cast-iron stove.
He added some wood to the coals, then set a kettle of water on
top. His visitot showed no sign of impatience at his slow move

28

meets, nor any inclination to break the quiet that lay easily be
tween them. Not unti1 the tea was brewed and a steaming mug
was set in front of her did she move.

"I found this for you," she said.

Ftom the pocket of her jacket she took a paperback book and
offered it to him. He smiled his thanks and turned it over in his
hands. The book looked almost new. There was a white wolf in
the foreground of the cover. Snow was falling. An almost nude
woman, pendulously breasted, stood behind the wolf. Behind her
was a satyt and a full moon. The title of the book was Wolfwinter;
the author, Thomas Butnett Swann. Lewis didn't asl;
where she'd "found" it.

"It 'minded me of Tommy's dog that wolf."

"It does look a little like Gaffa, doesn't it?" Lewis said.

She nodded. "Is it a good one?"

"Well, now. I don't know that yet."

"Will you read it to mer

Lewis smiled. "Sure. But we won't get through it all in ooe
night."

"That's all dght."

Lewis put hib glasses back on and used a proper bookmark to
keep his place in the book he'd been reading. Pushing it to one
side, he held the paperback up to the light and cleared his th~t.
Then he began to read to her.

l
l
l

.

l

.

"I like it," she said later when Lewis's throat started to get
scratchy from reading aloud and he decided to stop.

"Do you understand it allr'

She shrugged. "The names are funny, but I do like it. Will you
read me some more tomorrow nightT'

"Sure."

She regarded him for a long moment with her unblinking
green eyes, her whole body languid and relaxed in the chair, then
with a sudden graceful movement, she was on her feet and by the
door.

"I've got to go now, Lewis" she said. She opened the doot
turning before she stepped outside. "I've seen them," she added.
"In the dark man's house."

"Did you go inside?" Lewis asked.

He was still facing the table and turned-slowly when she
didn't answer. By the time he had turned around, the doorway
was empty, the door ajar. Shaking his head, he rose from his
chait and made his slow way to the door. He stood there fat a

30

Charles de Lint

long time, watching the darkness and listening, before he closed
it. At the table again, he picked up the book she'd brought him
and turned it over in his hands once more.

She could move like a ghost when she wanted to. He wondered
how the new people in the house would feel about being
haunted by her.

He stayed there for awhile, thinking of her, about what the
new people might be like, then he laid the book down again. He
left their mugs in the sink, meaning to clean them in the morning
when he'd drawn some more water. Taking the lamp, he went
upstairs to his bed in the loft overhead.

CHAPTER FOUR

On Sunday Ali and her mother continued to work at organizing
the house. On Monday they went into Perth for the day, shopping
and looldog around, breaking for a late lunch at the Maple Drop
Bakery before they came home. It wasn't until Tuesday afterwon,
after spending a couple of hours studying for her exams,
that Ali was free once more to follow the sideroad that led up to
Tony's place.

When she got there, she followed the sound of hammering to
the back of the house where she found Tony putting together a
fence for his vegetable garden.

"Hey, lrid! How's it goingT'

"Okay. I had to study this morning-history." She pulled a
face. "But ww I can do what I want for the rest of the day."

"What's so bad about history?" Valenti aslced. "It's important
to know the history sf things. How are you going to know what
to respect if you don't know where it came from? Everything's
got its place and only history's going to tell you hww it got there."

"I guess. But this is all just memorizing dates aw stuff lilce
that. I'm probably going to 9unk it 'cause I just can't remember
anytbing."

"A smart Icid line you? You'll do okay."

If this was New York, he thought, and he hadn't lost his place
in the fratcllanza, she wouldn't have a thing to worry about.
He'd just have a talk with her teacher and if her teacher had any
smarts, he'd pass her. Ww kwws? Maybe the teacher would
need a favor someday. It never hurt to have connections. But this
wasn't New Yorlr.

"What are you doing?,' Ali asked.

"It's the rabbits," Valenti explained. '~kay, I like 'em, but
I'm tryiog to grow some produce here and I don't like rabbits so
much that l want to feed 'em all summer and have wthing for
myself, you l;now what I mean? So I'm building the feace to

31

keep 'em out. Maybe I'll put a little sign on it-you know how
to write rabbit?"

"Give me a break."

"Okay. So maybe that's not such a good idea." He shrugged.
"How do you like your new house?"

"Oh, it's great. Mom and them put in a floor-to-ceiling bookcase
on one wall of my room and I've got all my books in it-
you should see it."

"Maybe I will-but with a chaperone. You got to watch who
you invite into your bedroom, kid. They might not all be gentlemen
like me."

"I'm not worried about you."

Valenti regarded her seriously. "That's good," he ssid. "Because
I like you and I think we can be friends, but we don't want
people geffing the wrong idea or anything. Five, six years from
now, though-maybe we got a problem." He grinned when Ali
blushed. "So you like books?" he asked, changing the subject.
"What kind of things do you read about?"

"Oh, all kinds. Right now I'm reading this book by Parke
Godwin that's-"

"What kind of a name is that, 'Parke'?"

"I don't know. What kind of a name is Tony?"

"It's Italian."

"No kidding?" Ali grinned. "Anyway, it's a really good book.
It's all about Guinevere and what happened to her after Arthur
died. See, everyone's against her and she ends up getting captured
by these Saxons . . ."

Valenti went back to working on the fence, listening to her
and smiling, feeling good. The work went more quickly with her
helping. When she finished describing Godwin's Beloved Exik
up to where she'd read so far, she went on to talk about other
favorite authors. Diana Wynne Jones. Tony Hillerman. Caitlin
Midhir. Orson Scott Card.

"Maybe you should bring one of those up, next time you
come," Valenti said when she mentioded her Tom Brown Jr. field
guides. "I'd like to know some more about what we got out there
in the woods, you know?"

Ali nodded, then pointed to the gap between the ground and
the bottom of the chicken wire they were attaching to the wood
frame of the fence. "They're still going to get in."

"Only the smart ones," Valenti said. "I don't mind the smart
ones coming, I just don't want to feed the whole forest."

Ali laughed. "Tony?" she asked when there was a moment'~

~__1 ~1~8AI ~ ù s._

;;

:]

;

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v

pause in the hammering. "Remember you told me about those
kids that come joyriding up here?"

"Sure. What about 'em?"

"Well, what is it that they do?"

Valenti put the hammer down and looked at her. "What happenedT'
he asked. "Somebody been bothering you?"

"Not exactly. It's just that I woke up early yesterday morning
and when I looked out the window, I thought I saw someone

hiding in the trees out back of our place, watching the house."

"What kind of someone?"

"I couldn't really tell. I'rh not even sure if I really saw anything
or not. I didn't tell my mom because she's always worrying
about something or other and I didn't know if this was worth
bothering about in the first place. I don't want to get anybody
into trouble, but it's a little creepy, don't you think-having
someone spying on you?"

Valenti nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's not so good. But it
doesn't sound like the joyriders. They just come up here Friday
or Saturday night, rev their engines a lot, make some noise. You
don't see 'em much during the week."

"Well, who do you think it is that's watching our houseT'

"I don't know. When I first moved here I used to think there
was something or someone out there watching me."

"And now?"

Valenti thought of the distant piping but he didn't think he was
ready to talk about it yet. "Now I think it was just some animal
-like a fox or something. Say, I'm getting pretty thirsty. How
about you? You want a Coke?"

"Maybe some more lemonade?"

"You got it."

He led the way to the house, going to the back door this time.
There were a couple of deck chairs by the door and Ali sat in
one, turning it so that the sun wasn't in her eyes. She noticed he
had a satellite dish on the side of the house that was hidden from
the road and wondered if she could talk her mother into getting
one. Although it was only a few days since they'd moved, Ali
was already missing all the great late-night movies that were on
cable. Tony came back with her lemonade and a beer for himself
and sat down in the other chair, favoring his leg.

"What did happen to your leg?" Ali asked. A look passed
across his face that she couldn't decipher and she wondered if
she'd stepped out of line. "You don't mind me asl~ing, do youT'

~ ~n~ ue ~

"What?" Vatenti asked, then he shoolc his head. "No, no. I
was just thinking."

He'd passed out when Mario had hoisted him up and earned
him from the villa. The next thing he knew they were on a 6shing
boat-bound for the north coast of Africa. His shoulder wound
was clean The bullet had just clipped muscle and gone right
tbrough. But the other bullet had shattered a bone in his leg.

"Wc had a doc look you over," Mario said, "and he did what
he could, but you probably won't be walking so straight no more,
Tony."

"What day is this?." ~

"Two days since they hit my place. We've been moving
around some."

"Fercrissalces! I've been out two days?."

Mario laid a hand on his chest and pushed him baclc on the
rough t~lc. "Take it easy, Tony. We're gonna be okay. I'vc got a
connection in lUnisia and everytbing's set up. We'll bc dropped
outside of Moinine where a trucl`'s gonna meet us and talce us up
to Tunis. We've got a place there in a hotel where wc'tt be
Comped in style-owner of the place owes me a favor. No one's
gonna bother us, you hear what I'm saying? We'll stay low there
for a couple of months, then I go home and you go wherever."

"You can't go back, Mario."

"Woat's the problem? A voice on the phone tells me to hit a
nun that'S tilce my own son? I gotta do what some nobody on a
phone tests me to do? Those people got a problem, tbat's their
problem. They can send out their own talent, but me, I'm not in
the busiaess no more, capito? No one's gonna bother me when I
get home, Tony. I got friends could cause big problems for the
Magaddinos, you know what I'm saying?"

"Suro. Grazie, Mario."

"'Ey, what's to thanlc? But mayb' you should thinlc about
getting out of the business, too, Tony. It makes you too old, too
fast. It's fiOt lilce the old days no more. Go learn another bade. I
mean, what's the famity ever done for you? You see what they
did to me. They let me take a fatt for the padrone-God. rest 0a
aoul-and when I'm out of the slammer, I'm deported. Chriat,
who do I know left in the old country? I'm ten years old when we
land in New Yorlc.

"But I played 'em smart, Tony. I banked some money where
d~ey couldn't touch it and it was waiting for me when I got out.

i

:

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GREENMAI~E
35

So now I live on Malta-I've got a woman, two kids, a nice
place. It's peaceful now, you know? Think about it, Tony."

Valenti shook his head. "I'm going to nail the fucker that set
me up, Mario. I got no other choice."

"Yeah, yeah. Your honor demands it. Well, you tell me: Tbese
people, did they treat either of us with honor? I tell you again, it's
not like the old days, Tony. I got no respect for them now. You

wait-you'll see. By the time you're up and running again, it's
not gonna mean so much to you neither. Trust me. A little time
goes by, you're gonna feel different about it."

Maybe, maybe not, Valenti thought now. He'd have to see. He
lodced over at Ali, took a swig of beer and smiled.

"Between you and me," he said, "I got hit in action." He
a~eant to stick as close to the truth as he could; they were going to
be friends, he didn't want to lie to her.

"What do you mean?" Ali asked.

"I was a soldier."

"Really? What army?"

Valenti's smile deepened. He could hear Mario's voice in his
mind. You got to go someplace where when you say you're a
soldato they asl' what army, not whatfamily.

'Y was sort of a private soldier," he explained.

"You mean like a mercenary?"

"Yeah. Pretty much. But I'm retired now. And let's keep this
between you and me, okay? You got to make me a promise on
this." Christ, he thought. He had to be nuts telling her this much.
Except who could she talk to?

Ali nodded solemnly. "I won't tell anybody-not even Mom
-if you don't want me to."

'Y don't want you to."

"My lips are sealed," she said and pinched them closed with
kr forefinger and thumb.

"How're you going to drink with your mouth like that?" Vaknti
asked.

Ali giggled and took her hand away. "You want some more
help with that fence?"

"Sure. Did you taLk to your momma about you both coming
over for dinner? What'd she say?"

"She said fine."

"Sensadonal. This is a meal you're not going to forget, Ali.
We're going to start with some andpasta and-"

"What's andpasta?"

"It's like olives, cold cuts, cheese-that kind of thing, you
l~now? So we start with that and a nice white wine-your
momma let you drinlc wineT'

"With dinner, sure."

"Okay. So how's about this Saturday nightT'

Ali nodded and followed him back to where they'd been
working earlier. Valenti continued to give her a run-down on
what she could expect for dinner as they finished nailing tbe
ch~cken wire up in place. The afternoon went by quickly and all
too soon Ali was on her way home, running because she was
going to be late for supper.

Valentj watched her go, hoping he hadn't made a mista}e,
telEng her as much about himself as he had. But he was glad he'd
done it. It was good to have a secret between f iends.

Collecting up the tools, he put them away and headed for thc
house. He planned to go down and check out the woods behind
Ah's place later on to sec if hc could find any sign of her secre
tive visitor. While hc got his own dinner ready, he tried to matc
up his mind if he should bring a piece with him or not. In the end
hc settled on his cane. Out here, who needed guns?

~ .

CHAPTER FIVE

There was a tall, greyish-blue stone on the slopes of Snake Lake
Mountain, a pointed finger of rock that lifted skyward in among
the cedars and pine, the maple, birch and oak. It looked to be a
put of tbe forest and the backbones of stone that lifted from the
rich forest floor, but it was older than either-a lost remnant of
&omething secret. It stood in a small flat meadow, scooped from
the slope. Above, the forest climbed on to the top of the hill in a
tangle of underbrush and old trees; below it, younger trees
trekked on down the slopes to circle the small village of New
Wolding and its outlying fields before it wandered off to meet
Black Creek and the land beyond.

Stags scraped the velvet from their antlers against that stone.
Goats and sheep grazed there often enough to give the meadow
tbe short, trimmed look of a lawn. But mostly it was Tommy
Dufffin who frequented the meadow and played tunes on his reedpipes
to the tall old standing stone. He played in the evenings, as
tbe twilight fell....

Like his father before him, and his grandfather as well,
Tommy had the coarse rough features of the Duffins. His face
was plump, his eyes somewhat vacant-looking, his hair lifting in
an untidy thatch from his head. But when he lifted his pipes and
set his breath into them, he changed.

His features seemed to become thinner, more defined, and a
fire touched his eyes, a flickering of firefly light that said, I know
mysteries, hear them in my music. And then he was no longer the
same boy Qf fifteen who lived with his mother in the cottage
closest, but one, to the hill.

That Tuesday evening, Lewis looked up to see Tommy passing
by. Lewis was sitting out on the steps of his cabin and lifted a
hand in greeting. Tommy nodded, friendly enough, but already
that 6ense of distance was creeping into his eyes and he never
brace ~tep as he continued on up to the stone. The wolfish Gaffa

37

gamboled in the fields across from Lewis's cabin, malcing his
own roundabout way to his master's destination.

Lewis continued to sit on his steps. He heard a blackbird's
song, the hum and creak of insects, then-lifted above them,
sweeter by far-the sound of Tommy's piping.

One by one the viHagers began to drift in the direction of
Snake Lake Mountain, what they called Wold Hill after tbe hill
they'd left behind in the old country. The Lattens passed by first,
William and Ella, both stout and graying now, their son Willie,
Ir. and his wife, Rachel, walking with them. Then Alden Mudden,
Emery and Luca Blegg, and the Hibbuts sisters, Jenny and
Ptutb, all in a group. Tommy's mother, Flora, followed, walking
arm in arm with old Ailie Tichner, the only resident of New
Wolding older tban Lewis since her husband, Miles had died last
winter.

Peter Slcegland came next with his wife, Gerda, and their two
daughters, Kate and Holly. Wallcing with the two Skegland girls
was Martin Tweedy. His parents, George and Susanna, were not
far behind. Bringing up the rear was Lily Spelkins, who'd be
sixty-three this summer, but was still as slender and supple as a
young girl, and would sometimes dance with the younger women
when Tommy's music grew too gay to resist.

There aren't many of us left, Lewis thought as he fell in step
with Lily. There were still representatives of all the families that
had first immigrated here, all in a group in the late twenties, but
slow1y and surely they were dying out. Their lives were long, but
Lewis didn't like to think of a time when there would be no one
left to follow the old ways.

There were so few children-and none in the past ten years.
Many had left the village. Of tbe twelve cottages that made up
New Wolding, four stood empty now. They needed only one of
the two big dark-timbered barns to winter their diminishing herds
and store their excess crops. The only part of the village that truly
prospered these days was the graveyar~;

"I love this time of year," Lily said. When Lewis didn't answer
straightaway, she laid her hand on his arm and gave it a
squeeze. "You think too much, Lewis. It's going to make you an
old man."

Lewis gave her a half-hearted smile. "And that would never
do, would itr'

"When lango comes this year," she told him, "I'm going to
see what sort of a perk-up tea be can whip up for you, Lewh

~.~__.~.~.~

.

:

.

~J7

Anything to get your nose out of those books and into the fresh
air a bit. Remember the walks we used to takeT'

Lewis nodded. That was before his wife Vera died, before his
son Edmond leh the village, not to return, before he realized that
the something that had held them all together for so long was
fading. It was before Lily's husband Jevon died as well, when the
village seemed more alive.

Now New Wolding was filled with memories, rather than vitality.
It had an air of imminent disuse about it. Tommy's music
bt one forget, but only while it played. It wasn't strong enough
to draw new blood to the~village anymore. The old haunting
mystery just didn't seem to run so deeply anymore. It no longer
held tbe dark hounds at bay. And one day, too soon, it would
~1-

"Lewis!"

Lily poked him with a sharp elbow, bringing him bsck to the
present moment, but not before he finished his last "bought: One
day it would all fade away.

"It's as much what we feel," Lily said, "what we give back, as
what we take, Lewis. You of all people should remember tbat-
you told it to me."

Lewis nodded. The music didn't come from a void, nor did it
play to one. It was a conduit between tbemselves and the mystery
that lay behind it. What it woke in each person who heard it
reflected only what was inside them to begin with.

"You're right, Lily," he said, slipping her arm into tbe crook
of his own. "I keep forgetting-it really is that simple."

` Uly leaned over and Icissed his dry cheek, then gave his arm a
tug. "Come along, Lewis. There's something in the air tonight
Jmd I think I want to dance."

Lewis smiled at her. Arm in arm, they hurried after the others,
drawn to the meadow of the longstone by the call of Tommy's
music. No one quite entered, except for Tommy. The rest sat or
stood in a half circle in among the trees, watching him play. The
last light of the day washed over him and for one breathless
moment he appeared to glow. His reed-pipes woke an exultant
music that skirled to meet the approaching night in a rush of
breathy notes. Then the darkness stole in and the music turned
into a jig.

The two Hibbuts sisters, in their fifties now, were the first to
leave the shelter of the trees. They moved to the music, Jenny's
graying hair undone and falling across her thin shoulders as she
stepped to the tune while Ruth, the years wearing on her a little

40 a~s de L"

more, didn't move quite so sprightly. Kate and Holly Skegland
were next, both young and limber, though not quite graceful yet,
and then Lily left Lewis's side to join them.

To those watching from the trees it seemed that there were
more than just five of their own dancing to Tommy's music. The
lime meadow appeared to be filled with other dancing forms,
ghostly shapes that spun in the steps with more abandon and an
elfin grace. They danced a May dance that plucked the apples of
the moon, silver and cool, rather than the bright apples of the
sun.

Lewis looked for and found the small form of his night visitor
in among the bobbing forms, her dance feline as a Iynx at play,
and no less merry. Martin Tweedy had left- his parents' side to
join the dancers, holding hands with both Kate and Holly as they
went round and round. A feeling of gladness swelled inside
Lewis. An expectancy. A returned vitality. And then the dance
music slowed to become a bittersweet air.

The ghostly shapes faded as the music changed tempo. lhe
dancers returned to sit with the others among the trees-all except
for one. Lewis saw her slip catlike into the brush behind the
tall standing stone. The breathy sound of me reed-pipes grew
more haunting still and a hush settled over them all like a collechve
sigh.

All nightsounds stilled until the pipes played alone h~to the
vastness of the starry skies overhead. No one moved; no one
dared to take a breath. It was into this moment of perfect stillness,
with just the thread of a melody reaching up to the stars,
that the stag stepped into the meadow.

He was huge, more the size of a small horse than a buck, a
Royal by his antlers, having three tops and ail his rights-brow
bay and tray tines. Slis coat was a ruddy brown like that of the
red deer of ~hc Scottush lowlands rather than the native whitetails.
By Tommy's feet, Gaffa regarded the enormous beast puzzledly
because-I;ke ~ fawn-the st~g-,had no scent. Moving
silently, the st~ stepped fully into the meadow. then turned to
face the piper. Tommy brought the tune to a close and the two
regarded one another in the ensuing quiet.

That's where it lives, Lewis thought. Inside the stag. The
mystery that called from beyond the music of Tommy's pipes-
the enchantment that men had followed through the forests of
prehistory, in Arcadia's gentle hills, in the black forests of Europe,
in England's tracts of bardic woodland, ID the eastern forests
of North America. No maner what shape it wore, it was

;

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~:

!

.

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GREENMANUE    41

always the same mystery. It was what their ancestors had foF
lowed, Lewis malized, when they crossed the Atlantic. The my~
tery had left the shores of England, moving west, and they had
followed.

The music that Tommy played was only a memory of what
this creature was. It was something between wizardry and poetry,
between enchantment and music. Its antlers were the branches of
the tree of life and in its eyes was the beauty of the world, always
seen as though for the first time.

That was how Lewis saw.it-the Royal stag called from 0~
erwhere by Tommy's music, by the memories tied into those
tunes-Lewis, with his walls of books and the thousands of
pages that had passed before his eyes. The others didn't sec it
quite the same. To them the stag was a wonder, a gift from
Tommy's music and the night. The play of the muscles under its
skin as it slowly circled the perimeter of the meadow was an echo

of their dancing. It was Tommy's music given form for them to
see.

Then, from the distance, a new sound came. A discordant
baying of hounds. The stag rose on its hind legs, antlers swee~
ing the sky. For one moment it seemed to all those watching that
a man stood there-a man with antlers lifting from his brow-
then the stag dropped to all fours and sprang from the meadow in
one long graceful bound, disappearing into the forest without a
sound.

The baying ~ew nearer until Tvmmy lifted his pipes to his
lips once more and blew a new music-fierce and wild, a trumpeting
blare. Before the sound of it had died away, the baying
was gone and the usual noises of a righted forest returned.

Lewis closed his eyes and shivered. When he glanced at the
longstone, he saw that both Tommy and his dog were gone. As
was the stag. As the villagers soon would be, for they were already
going as they'd come, in small groups, or one by one. Lily
remained, a question in her eyes, but Lewis shook his head. Not
until he was alone did he turn away from the meadow and its tall
standing stone to return to his cabin.

Unlike the others he couldn't simply accept things as they
happened. Questions troubled him when others had no need for
either the questions or their answers. What brought the stag?
What was different on the riights that it came from those nights
when it didn't? Tommy played the same music.

There was no answer in his books. No answer from anyone he
could asl;. No answer from Tommy's music nor the wondrous

~nanes ae Lmr

creature it had called up tonight. He thought of his night visitor
of the gleam he somedmes saw in her slightly slanted green eyes.
There was an answer in her, he knew. Only with her, he didn't
l~now the right quesdon to ask. To her, "Whyr' was only "Why
not7" That wasn't enough for Lewis. It never had been

He lit the lamp when he got home and sat at the table with the
paperback book she'd "found" on his lap, waiting for her scratch
at the door and her cheery "'Lo, Lewis." But when she did come
instead of talking to her, about the stag, about Tommy's music
about who or even what she was, he opened the book and read a
few more chapters to her. And then she was gone again, swallowed
by the same night that had taken the stag, and he was no
closer to unravelling the riddles than he'd ever been.

CHAPTER SLX

{}e

,
,
I

. ,

^..

:~:

:.

There was sHll a good half hour of daylight left when Valenti
closed his front door and started down the road. The black ffies
were preny well gone by now, but the mosquitos were more than
making~ up for their absence. He considered going back for some
bug-repellent, then decided he couldn't spare the lime. He
wanted to be all senled in before it got dark so that he could see
who showed up, rather than be seen himself. If whoever was
watching the Treasure house was the same person who'd been
spying on him when he'd first moved here for good, they'd be
coming nightly for at least the first few weeks.

At first Valenti thought that the fratellanza had caught up with
him, but when nobody made any moves to take him down, he put
that fear aside. What had driven the hidden watcher, though, he
still didn't know. Curiosity, he supposed. Whoever or whatever it
was, it was like a wild animal in some respects. He'd never
caught more than shadowy glimpses of it himself and once he'd
made a concerted effort to flush it out, the watcher didn't come
around his place anymore.

He wondered, not for-the first dme, if there were some connecdon
between the watcher and the music that came drifdng out
of the woods from behind his house; wondered as well if he were
the only person who heard it. He didn't know anyone in the area
well enough to ask. What he didn't need was to start people
talking about how he was hearing things. There'd been enough
talk when he'd come here to stay for good instead of his usual
couple of weeks a year. That talk had long since died down and
he wasn't about to put himself into public scrutiny all over again.

But that music did more than intague him. He thought about it
often-especially during the winter when it was seldom heard.
Spring was the best dme-spring and the long evenings of surnmer.
It tapered out again come the fall, and after Halloween it
was mostly just a memory. Valenti was carrying around too many

43

a
~ "~;  Bs.

memories, but thinking of the music always made the othas easier to
bear.

Close to Ali's house, he slipped into the woods to the right of the
road and worked his way around to the trees that looked onto the back
of the house. He stood there studying the building and its yard. To his
right, the hulk of their ruined barn grew darlc with shadows. He could
see figures move across the windows in tbe house. Insects hummed in
the air. The twilight grew rapidly, throwing the house and lawn into
sharp relief before the shadows merged to become one pool of
darkness. Over the western trees the sun lingacd for a few moments
longer, then dropped from sight. The air was filled with a clean, spring
night scent.

Valenti began to move closer to the house, then paused and coclced
his head. A whisper of sound . . . It came shimmering through the
darl~ness, a breathy and low music, achingly beautiful. Valenti gripped
the head of his cane with a white-knuckled hand and slowly lowered
himself to the ground. There was a different quality to the piping
tonight.

Hcar mc, it called to him. Find mc.

Leanhg his head against the rough-barked trunk of a tree, all he
could do was listen.

In her bedroom overlooking the backyard, Ali was busy putbng her
bool~s h alphabetical order. She'd been sloppy boxing them up before
the move and now she had to pay for it. Up to the S's now, she was
puzzling over her Thomas Burnen Swann bool~s. Wolf winter was
gone. She'd searched high and low for it but couldn't find it. It was the
only one of Swann's books that she hadn't read yet; she'd only just
found a copy-h mint condition -in a secondhand book shop before
they left Ottawa and had been loolring forward to reading it.

That was the problem with moving, she thought. Every time they'd
moved, one or two of her bool;s disappeared-usually the middle
book in a bilogy, or somethiru really hard to find like this Swann title.
Frustrated, she went to sit lly her window and stared through the
screen at thc darkness beyond. A slight breeze blew coolly on her
cheek.

She was listening to a casseKe of Hungarian violin music by lohn
Owozarek on her Sony Walkman. That was something else her mother
worried about-the fact that Ali's tastes followed her mother's so
much, rather than what was current for her age group. It was no use
trying to tell Frankie different, Ali had realized long ago. Her mother
just liked to worry about thing".

I;
1

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.. ~

:

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1

The casseKe ended and she took off the earphones. Unclipping the
Walkman from her belt, she laid it and the earphones on the nightstand
by her bed. She was about to go back to organizing her
books-incomplete Swann collection and all-when she heard music
coming from somewhere.

It wasn't coming from the stereo downstairs; her mother was
taking a nap and there weren't any neighbors near enough to be its
source, so where was the music coming from? And such music.
Distant, quia, but so immediate you could almost touch it. Something
inside her stirred awake as she listened to it.

She stared out the window until she began to feel confined. Then

she got up and made her way downstairs and out the baclc door. She
waoted to hear what the music sounded lilce from outside.

If Valenti rarely dreamed before moving to Lanark County, Frankie
was just the opposite. Her nights were like film festivals, the d~eams
showing back to back uotil morning. All that was missing were toe
credits.

Her dreams seemed so real that sometimes she carried the
memories and emoticos evoked by them over into her waking life. She
might dream of Ali doing something horrible to her, then she'd wake
up and beat the poor kid like shit. Ali, sweetheart that she was, l~new
enough to stay out of her way on mornings lilce that, but it didn't
mai~e Fraokie feel any less guilty about it.

She hadn't meant to fall so deeply asleep after dinner, but the
couch seemed to gather her up and take her away. OD-ing on all the
fresh air, she thought as her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open and
she drifted off. The nap thickened into sleep. She burrowed closer
against the back of the couch, her eyes beginning to move rapidly
behind her eyelids as she dreamed....

From a formless place, she found herself standing in the front
hallway of the new house. She could hear something moving upstairs,
something too heavy to be Ali, but so far as she knew, Ali was up
there by herself. There was a heavy clomp, clomp, clomp on the
hardwood floors. Biting at her lower lip, Frankie moved slowly
toward the stairs.

She mounted one stair at a time, and all the while she could hear the
sound of some huge thing moving around on the second floor. When
she reached the landing, there was nothing to see. The sound was
coming from Ali's bedroom. What was she doing? Moving the
furniture around?

a~6

Charles de Llnt

She started down the hallway, then caught a glimpse of movement
from the con~er of her eye. What...? Something that seemed like a little
man made of sticks was scrambling up the narrow stairs that led to the
attic.

Frankie stared after the disappearing figure, mouth open in
astonishment. A cat, she thought. Or a raccoon. Somehow it got into
the house, heard me coming.... But it hadn't looked like an animal. It
had been stiff, and manlike in shape, if not size. Like a little monkey
made of twigs.

A crash from Ali's room brought Frankie's head sharply around.

"Now look what you've done!" she heard Ali say crossly.

I'm going mad, Frankie thought. She stepped quickly to the door of
Ali's bedroom, flung it open and found herself standing face to face
with an enormous stag.

Just before he heard the door of the back porch crealc open, Valenti
became aware of the wind. It had been steadily building, shrring the
leaves and remnants of dried autumn weeds with a crackling whisper
of sound. Years of working the streets had given him an acute sixth
sense. As he sat here now, feeling the wind, hearing the fey music that
piped low and breathy in the distance, that same intuition began to
tickle the nerves along his spine. Tben he heard the porch door open
and looked across the darkened lawn to see Ali step outside.

She had her head cocked as though she were listening to something.
The music. Valenti realized that she was hearing it too. He was about
to call out to her, but that hunter's sixth sense stopped him before he
did. Something. There was something . . .

When he saw the stag step silently from the woods not a halfdozen
yards from where he sat, the sheer wonder of its pres ence-its
size, its silence-made his mouth go dry. His pulse began a quick
tattoo as the huge beast neoved slowly out onto the lawn. Ali was out
the~e. Maybe the stag would just be spooked and take off when it
caught her scent, but maybe it would charge her instead. Valenti
started to stand, but then a voice called out softly from the tree above
him.

"Don't move."

He looked up. Slanted cat's eyes reflected the light from Ali's
house.

"Madoro/a mia," he muttered. The words came out in a barely
audible rasp.

But he couldn't move now if he'd wanted to. Those eyes had

:

.

.

GRER~

47

done some~iog to him. Sapped the strength from his legs so that he
couldn't stand. Stolen his voice so that he couldn't call out a warning to
Ali. The slanted eyes blinked, then dropped toward him. The owner
of those eyes landed catlike beside him. Curly hair spilled from under
the brim of a big floppy hat, framing a narrow foxlike face. The eyes
were very close to him now, inches from his own.

It's just a girl, he thought. Just a kid. But her eyes weren't a child's
eyes. Tbey were old and worldly-wise.

"Watch," she said. Sitting back, she pointed out toward tbe lawn
where the stag was drawing nearer to Ali.

Ihe stag moved out from the trees and onto the lawn. Ali's breath
caugbt in her lungs and she trembled-first from excitement, tben with
a touch of f~ear as she realized just how far from tbe house she was
and that the stag was drawing closer to her witb each deliberate step.

Ieez, what if it charged her? She started to back away, but
suddenly tbe stag was looming right over her and now she was too
scared to move.

"N-nice boy," she said. She swallowed thickly. "Good boy. ~easy
now. . ."

The stag dipped its head, antlers bobbing witb tbe movement, then
it loolced up to where the light she'd left on in her bedroom was
spilling out the window. Ali didn't want to talce her gaze off tbe ar
imal, but at length, she, too, shot a quick glance up at that square of
ligbt.

Prankie stared at tbe stag. Sbe was so close, and tbe light was so
bright, tbat she could make out every detail. 'rbe broad blaclr nose, tbe
lighter-colored hairs of its muzzle, the ruddy hair on its brow, tbe
liquid eyes, the huge antlers lifting up to almost touch d~e ceiling of
Ali's bedroom. Ali. . .

Tbe stag never moved. From the attic above she heard tbe
scurrying of what sounded like a dozen rats or squirrels crossing tbe
wooden boarding up tbere, tiny claws clicking on the wood. Franlcie
looked up, took a step back from tbe stag in tbe doorway.

I'm going crazy, sbe "bought.

She remembered bearing Ali's voice in tbe room. Ali scolding
someone. Tbe stag? Oh, please God, tbis had to be a dream. Let me
wake up. The scurrying of whatever was in tbe attic grew louder, as
tbougb tbe rats or squirrels, if that was what tbey were, if tbey
weren't litBe stick men . . . as tbough tbey were dancing

~o

L~narles oe L`m

. . . Panic reared in Frankie, a sheer terror that dwarfed any fear
she'd had before. It took shape as a name that rose from deep in
her chest and came out as a wail.

"Alllliiiii!"

When she heard her mother scream, Ali's fear fled. She
looked away from the yellow square of her bedroom window,
back toward the stag, only to find the lawn empty. She was out
here by herself. But then . . . ? She heard her mother cry out again
and bolted for the house.

Valenti blinked. One moment the creature was there on the
lawn, towering over Ali, i~ the next it was gone and Ali was
tearing across the lawn back to the house. He turned back to his
own unwanted companion only to find that he, too, was alone
now.

The piping had stopped. But he heard something else. It
sounded like the baying of hounds. Then he saw that the stag
wasn't quite gone. It was by the corner of the house, moving in
long, springing bounds toward the road and the forest beyond it.
It wasn't gone for more than a couple of moments before a halfdozen
loping shapes appeared, obviously in pursuit.

They were dogs-big ones, Valenti thought. Then his eyesight
betrayed him again. For an instant he thought he saw, not
dogs, but men pursuing the sta-g, men in the habits of monks, or
the robes of priests. He blinked and they were just dogs again,
lost to his sight as they disappeared into the forest after the stag.

Valenti wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. Fercrissakes,
he thought. What was going on here? He had to be going
crazy. He looked up to where the girl with the slanty eyes had
dropped from the lower branches of the tree, then down to where
she'd crouched beside him.

Had there been anyone there at a~l?-The music, the stag, the
girl . . . Slowly, he got to his feet and shook his head. He felt like
he'd just broken a long fever. Looking at Ali's house, he wondered
if he should knock at the door to see if they were all right.
He seemed to remember a scream....

A dream, Frankie thought with relief as she abruptly woke on
the couch. Her own cries had woken her and it had all been a
dream. She sat up and looked around herself. The stag in Ali's
room, the little twig men or squirrels or whatever they'd been,

vs ~_~_ ~..~ ~ . ~

1
.} ~
1

.~.

.

:
.

scurrying around in the attic . . . She swung her feet to the floor
just as Ali burst into the living room.

"Mom!" Ali cried, then slowed to an undignified halt.
"Mom. . . ?"

"I'm all right," Frankie said. "I was just dreaming."

"It wasn't about . . . ?"

"It wasn't about you," Frankie assured her. "Or at least not
czactly. C'mere and give your mother a hug."

Ali plonlced herself down beside Frankie and gave her the
hug. "Boy, you really missed something," she said. "There was
this deer out in the backyard with horns-"

"Antlers," Frankie corrected automadcally.

"Whatever. But you should have seen it. It was huge!"

"I did see it."

"But you said . . ."

Frankie laughed. "I know. I said I was dreaming. And what I
was dreaming was that you had this great big deer stashed away
in your bedroom. I heard it moving around and when I opened
the door to your room it was staring me right in the face."

"Is that ever weird " Ali said.

"You're telling me kiddo. Synchronicity and all that."

"Did you hear any music at all?"

"Music? What kind of music?"

"Sort of like on your Georges Zamphir record-you know,
panpipes? Only without the orchestra and not so smooth. More
. . . primal."

Frankie's eyebrows lifted. "Primal?"

Ali laughed. "No, really. I heard it up in my room and went
out to the backyard to see if I could tell where it was coming
from, only then the deer was out there and I guess I just forgot
about it. But it was really something."

"Well, I was asleep," Frankie said, giving her daughter's
shoulders a squeeze, "and if I'd heard any kind of music, I'm
sure it wouldtve been the theme to Tl~e Exorcist or something like
that because I was scared."

"Me, too. He was so big."

"You're telling me." They looked at each other and laughed.
"Listen to us," Frankie said. "You'd think we both really saw
your stag. . . I'm going to make some tea. Would you like
some?"

Ali nodded and followed her mother into the kitchen, but
some~ing was bothering her. She remembered how quickly the
biB animal had just . . . disappeared. She couldn't have turned her

50 Ch~ de Lhlt

head for mo~e than a few moments, but when shc loalced baclc h
was ... just gooe....

Scream or no scream, Valenti decided to leave well enough
alone for thc night. Aftcr watching the house for awhib, hc saw
Ali and her mother enter thc kitchen like nothing was thc matter.
Sincc hc didn't even know Ali's mother and hc sure as hell
wasn't up to explaining what he'd been doing skulking around in
their backyard tonight, he might as well just go home.

Besides, he had too much on his mind right now. He had to
son through what was real and what wasn't before hc talked to
anyone about it. For all he knew, he might have been imagining
Ali out on the lawn as well.

After taking a last look around, hc set off through the trees,
heading for home. Thc wind that had sprung up just before the
stag appeared had died down now and the mosquitos were back.
This had been one helluva weird night, he thought, no question
about that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sound of Tommy's pipes, once heard, was not easily forgotten,
even for a man of such limited imagination as Lance Maxwell.
He hadn't heard them so clearly again as he had on the day
of that February thaw when he'd gotten the flat tire, but the
memory of them and their vague sound, carried some evenings
like pollen on a high wind, continued to trouble him all through
thc spring.

Whereas their music awoke a longing deeply held in Tony
Valenti-a need to unravel the mystery he heard hidden between
the notes of the tunes-they just made Lance horny. He looked
for release in his marriage bed, bringing a vigor to his lovemaking
that had been absent for years.

"I don't know what's gotten into him," Brenda confided to a
neighbor one day, "but I'm not going to complain. It's nice to
know I've still got what it takes."

She might not have been so ready to accept it if she'd known
what was going through Lance's head when they were malcing
love. He liked to enter her from the rear now; he wanted to rut
her like a goat, pumping away like Dooker mounting the Sneddens'
bitch when it was in heat. It wasn't a woman under him,
but a doe, and he was the buck; a nanny, and he was the billy
goat; a bitch, and he was the hound. And afterwards, Iying spent
and staring up-at the peeling ceiling of their bedroom, he'd still
be hard, his seed sown, but the release he needed had been stolen
away on the strains of a music he didn't even know he remembered.

He'd gone to see the doc a week or so after he'd had what he
thought was a heart attack. Bolton put him on a diet, told him to
take it a little easier because he wasn't getting any younger, adding, "
Lay off the cigars, Lance, because if a heart attack doesn't
get you, then lung cancer surely will."

He'd cut down to two cigars a day, followed the diet as much
as their budget allowed, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do

51

5Z ~ - de ~

about taking it easier. He barely made ends meet as it was. If he
laid off the hauling and odd jobs he did, they'd be on welfare
faster than you could shake your click dry after a piss. So he
followed the doe's advice as he could, and damned if he didn't
feel better, but he couldn't explain the wanting in him, the feeling
of incompletion' and he couldntt explain his new virility, either.

"What's gotten into you9" Brenda asked him one night as they
started to make love for the second time in as many hours.

"Got a need, Boo," he grunted, hands moving quick, maybe 8
little rough, all over her.

His penis stood at attention, hard as a rock against her belly.
Brenda took it in hand. The marvel to her was that after reading
about orgasms in Womcn's Weekly and Redbook and the lilce for
years and never really knowing what they were talking about, for
the first time in their twenty-eight years of marriage she was
actually having them. And, Lord, but didn't it feel good. And
maybe she was getting a little plump, and maybe there were grey
hairs hidden by the regular use of Miss Clairol, but wasn't it
something that at her age she could still turn a man on lilce she
did? Wasn't that son~thing?

Moving under Lance, pulling him inside her, she had to smile.
Lord, but those Maxwells had known what they were about when
they were naming their little boy.

Lance tended to avoid driving by the old Treasure place,
though he couldn't have said why. He knew it was f~ed up-
Buddy's little girl, all grown up, was living there now-but tbe
spot just gave him a shiver. About the only thing that had
changed for him when Frances Treasure moved in was that be
was out the bucks it cost for a case of two-four.

It had been a private bet that he'd made with Frank Clayton-
they were the only two who knew anything about it-but he'd
ptud up all the same. Hell, he was jus~glad to be alive instead of
Iying in the slush, praying someone found him before his ticker
gave right out. Frank had nothing to do with him making it, and
the Treasure place had nothing to do with his having the attack,
but he paid the former and avoided the latter all the same.

Tuesday night he and Brenda were watching St. Elsewhere on
their old Zenith TV. Lance had a beer in his hand; Brenda was
dividing her attention between darning socks and the latest

GREENMA~E

53

dramas of thc St. Eligius hierarchy. Lance lifted his bottb, pausing
before he took a swallow.

"Let's gd to bed, Boo," he said suddenly.

Brenda looked at him. "But-"

'1he darning can wait, and so can that," he said, nodding at
the tube. He set his beer down on the scratched coffee table. He
was al~eady hard. "Let's go, Boo."

That night he was a buck, fourteen points if it had one. There
was something chasing him and he had to drop his load, quiclc, or
something buf was going to happen. The hounds were out hunting
tonight, looking for him, and maybe he'd stand and fight
them off, and maybe he'd just run, but first he had to hide his
seed. That was what they wanted. The dogs wanted his seed. But
he was going to hide it away so deep and so far they were never
going to find it, no way.

When he finally pulled away from her and rolled over, Brenda
lay quietly for a long time. Not until she was sure he was asleep
did she get up and pad into the bathroom. She started to sit on the
toilet, but suddenly Lance was there, filling the doorway.

"Whattre you doing?" he demanded. "Christ on a cross! What
the hell do you think you're doing?" He was wild-eyed, a
stranger.

"I'm just-"

He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her off the toilet. "You
want them to find itT' he roared. "lesus H. Christ, woman, what
do you think I was hiding it for? So you could piss it down the
drain?"

"Lance 1..."

Her voice trailed off. Lance was slowly shaking his head. He
liRcd a hand to rub his temple.

"Jesus," he said in a soher voice.

"Lance. Are you okay?"

"Giot a headache, Boo. That's all."

Brenda massaged her arm where he'd grabbed her. That was
going to bruise, she thought. She looked at her husband, remembering
the stranger he'd been for a moment there. For the first
time since his ardor had returned, stronger even than when they
were teenagers and going at it in the back of his father's car, she
was scared. This wasn't natural. There was something happening
to him, but she didn't know what to do about it.

"Do you want an aspirin?" she asked.

"Yeah. Sure."

54

She went to the medicine cabinet, shook a coupb out of the
bottle. We just got this bottle last week, she thought. A hund~d
tablets. It was half-empty now.

"Maybe you should make an appointment with Dr. Bohon,"
she said as she brought him the tablets and a glass of water.

He swallowed the pills. "Maybe I should."

When he returned to the bed, she stood in the doorway, waiting
until he was under the covers, then returned to the toilet. Any
minute she expected him to come bursting in again, but she finished
her business in peace and returned to the bed to find Lance
staring up at the ceiling.

"What's the matter, hon'

He shoolc his head. "Nothing, really. I just can't steep some
times."

She pulled back the covers to get in beside him and saw that
he was hard again. She wanted to look away, wanted to hold on
to the memory of him standing in the doorway and being rough
with her-not because she had liked it, but because it had scared
her, and she wanted to remember it as a warning-but she
couldn't look away from his hard-on.

What had happened to him? Her breasts tingled, already feeling
his hands on them. She was damp between her legs. His ardor
wasn't natural, she thought. Nor was what she was feeling now.
But she reached over and took hold of his penis all the same.

Downstairs, the television continued to operate for its abseot
audience. St. ElsewAcrc had long since ended. The news was on
now, followed by sports and the weather....

Charles de Llnt

Outside, behind the Maxwell's house, Dooka whined in his
sleep. His legs moved as though he were chasing something in a
dream. Perhaps his imaginadon was even more limited than his
master's, but the dream was very real all the same.

The stag ran before him, the paclc all around him. The night
was filled with scents, sharp and bidng. The music called them
on lil~e a huntsman's horn. It felt so good to just be running.

A*er Lance fell asleep for the second time, Brenda lay quietly
beside him, not wandag to move. She went over that moment in
the bathroom, the crazy things Lance had said, and then the way
that he didn't even seem to be aware of it right after. Iike it had
never happened.

She rubbed her arm softly. Well, the bruise was there. It hat

GREENMANTLE

55

happened. But she didn't know what to do about it. There was no
one she could talk to about something like this. Lord, she could
just imagine the way people'd stare at her if the word got out.
No, she had to keep it to herself, hoard it like a secret and just
pray-dear Jesus-that it wouldn't happen again.

It was a long time before she finally fell asleep herself.

GREENMANUE

57

"It's Tommy's music," Lewis said. "He's the one who pipes
the tune."

CHAPTER EIGHT

"'Lo, Lewis."

Leaning on his rake, Lewis looked up into the branches of the
oak tree that stood between his cabin and the small vegetable plot
he was workiog oo. A familiar fox-thin face regarded him
through the leaves, the morning sun dappled on her brown skin.

"Hello, yourself," he said, moving under the tree. "You're up
and about early today."

She dropped lightly from the branches to stand beside him.
She looked smaller, thinner, in the daylight, but no less mysterious.
The brim of her hat was pulled dowo low and he couldo't
see her eyes until she tilted her head up to look at him.

"I like the night," she said, "but I'm not bound to it. You
know that."

As she spoke she edged toward his woodpile. A few quick
moves later and she was perched upon it, legs dangling dowo.
Lewis followed her, moving more slowly, and ferched up his
chopping block to sit on.

"I saw you dancing last night," he said.

"I saw you too-only you weren't dancing.'

"I'm too old now."

"Doesn't stop Lily."

"She's twenty years younger than n~e. It makes a difference."

The slanted green eyes studied him for a moment, then looked
away. "Maybe," she said. Her gaze returned to him, a serious
look in her eyes. 'You shouldn't have let him run so far last
night, Lewis."

"Ile belongs to everyone-not just New Wolding. I couldn't
stop him anyway."

She nodded. "But there's no room for him out there anymore.
If he runs too far, he'll be gone, too. A mystery Like him
wouidri't last too long out there.~

,

, i
!
. l
:'

'*Tommy won't listen to me."

"What makes you think he'd listen to me? Anyway, he's not
just Tormny when he's piping. He's part of the mystery then."

She sighed. "I koow. There's just not enough of you here
anymore. If there were more of you, Tommy wouldn't pipe so
wild a tune. He's calling, Lewis, because he knows you need
more people, and he's sending the mystery out further and further.
One night the mystery won't come back. You've got to
bring some people in."

"They don't listen anymore," Lewis said. "I've been out
there. Pe~ople've got too much else going on in their heads to hear
properly anymore. The music's just not strong enough for them."

"But there's some that would hear it the way it should bc
heard," she said. "There has to be. If you could reach them...
Wh›n's the Gypsy due?"

Lewis shrugged. "A week. . . maybe two. They Iceep time like
you do-as it comes."

"Ask him," she said. "There's people out there v.ho will listen.
Ask him to find some for you. Otherwise things'll change
and the changes won't be good. The music's going out to the
wrong people. When the echoes come back, they're. . . they're
not always good. Maybe you should move again, Lewis-like
you did when you came here."

Lewis shook his head. "Where would we go?"

"Deeper."

"Deeper where?"

She shrugged. '1 don't know, Lewis. Nothing changes for me.
I've got the moon and that's all I need." She smiled without
humor. "Maybe that's what you should do, Lewis. Drink down
the moon and let him run free."

Before he could reply, she jumped down from the woodpile
and moved behind him. He felt the light touch of her hand on his
head as she tousled his thin hair. By the time he turned around,
she was gone.

Lewis sat there for a long time, thinking over what she'd said.
Out there, beyond this little pocket of the wild, they did hear the
music differently, and whether they saw the mystery as a stag or a
man or something in between, they understood even less about
him than Lewis did. The mystery was their enemy. He was son~ething
you had to approach with your heart, but all they had in

58

Charles de Lint

'~

:~;
them was reagon. The few folk that still searched for him-not
even knowing what they were looking for-probably wouldn't
recognize him if they did find him.

I wouldn't wish that on anyone, he thought.

That evening wasn't a gather-up night so only the youngsters
went up to the stone when Tommy began to play. Lily was visiting
Lewis and together they sat outside his cabin, listening to the
soft piping that drifted down from Wold Hill. They sat without
speaking, though earlier Lewis had repeated the warnings of his
small morning visitor with her green eyes and na'Tow fox's face.

They both thought about the world losing another of its mysteries.
It gave the night a bittersweet air. There were so few
mysteries left. The world couldn't spare the loss of even one of
them now.

: ~f

:~

. .

.
A,

: ›,

~ !, I
,:1
^,~]
':.
t~
::

CHAPTER NINE

On Saturday aftemoon, Frankie sat down on the edge of her bed
still wearing no more than her bra~and panties. She'd spent 8
fruitless twenty minutes tlying on various skirts, blouxs and
dresses and was no closer to deciding on what to wear for the
evening than she had been when she'd come upstairs to tal~e a
shower in the first place.

You'd think I was Ali's age, she thought, getting ready for my
first date. Except Ali was already dressed and waiting for her
downstairs.

She didn't know why choosing what to wear seemed so important
tonight. From all Ali had told her, Tony Garonne was a
pretty casual fellow. And Frankie certainly wasn't trying to wow
hirn. But she hadn't been out anywhere for a long time, and even
if this was just dinner At a neighbor's, it was a chance to get
dressed up in something a little more becoming than the usual
jeans and workshirt.

She combed her damp hair with her fingers, twisting it into
curls so that they would dry in ringlets. I should have gone over
to meet him this week, she thought. Then I wouldn't be feeling
this jittery.

But the usual one hundred and one things had come up-~ere
was a loJ that still needed doing around the house alone-aRd
almost before she'd known it, it was late Saturday afternoon and
time to get ready to go. What if he asked her what she was going
to do, now that she didn't have to work eight-to-four in the government
anymore?

She didn't know herself, but it always sounded awkward and
somehow self-indulgent when she tried to explain that she was
going to use the time that the Wintario money had given her to
find out just what it was that she wanted to do with her life.
Finding oneself had so many weird connotations in the eighties.
It sounded so . . . Woodstock. Never mind that she was part of
that whole Woodstock generation.

59

60

She sighed. And of course that might make things awkward as
wdl. According to Ali, he was about teo years older than her.
What if he made a pass? What if they couldn't find anything ia
common? What if-

"Mom, whattre you doing?"

She looked up to find her daughter standing in the doorway,
arms akimbo. Frankie smiled ruefully, feeling like a kid with her
hand in the cookie jar.

Ali shook her head. "Whattre you so nervous about? He's just
a regular guy."

"Who says I'm nervous?"

"I do. Look at you. Are you going like that?"

Frankie stood up and did a little pirouette. "What do you
think.7"

"Well, you're certainly going to make an impression." Ali
ducked as her mother grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it
at her. "You want me to help you pick something out?" she
asked, sticking her head baclc in.

"Why not?"

Ali went to the closet and rummaged through the hangers undl
she came up with a dress. "How about this?"

It was a black evening dress, mid-calf and snug in the bust,
~vith shoestring straps. Frankie shook her head. "Oh, I don't
know...." she said.

"C'mon. It looks great on you. You can wear that Sarab
Clothes jacket of yours over top if you're feeling modest." She
handed her mother the shift and went to the dresser lool~ing for a
slip and pantyhose. "Do you still have that rhinestone cholcenr
with the single pearl?" she asked.

"Are you matchmaking?" Frankie asked.

"Jeez. Get serious, mom."

Frankie shrugged and studied hetsolf in the mirror. She looked
good. A little dressy, perhaps, but it was fun after being such a
scruff-especially these past few weeks.

"Shoes," she said.

"I'll get them. Maybe you should wear your walking shoes
up, though. The road's not exactly a sidewalk."

"Yes, ma'am."

It was sort of fun having someone else malce the decisions,
Frankie decided. She gave herself a last quick once-over in the
mirror, then hurried after Ali, who was- impatiently waidng for
her in the hall.

Cll~es de Lb*

GREENM   ~61

"You're looking nice yourself," she said as she followed Ali
down the stairs.

"Yeah, well, it's a dinner, you know? I don't want Tony to
think I can't look like a lady when I want to."

"Oh, I doubt he'll think that after tonight."

Ali was wearing a loose print dress that was gathe~ed at
the waist. Over her shoulders she had a pale rose shawl
that matched the flowers on her dress. She looked very nice,
Frankie thought, and then a motherly worry arose. Oh, I
hope she's not getting a crush on this fellow.

"Mom? Are you coming?"

"I'm halfway there already-what's keeping you?"

Ali grinned. "Do you have room for this in your purse?" She
held up a cassette.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Just some music that I wanted to play for Tony tonight."

Frankie stashed it away in her purse. "Well, Ms. Treasure,"
she said. "Are you readyr'

Ali rolled her eyes and led the way outside.

Tony Garonne was nothing like Frankie had expected. There
was a sense of Old World charm about him that was vaguely at
odds with the easy familiarity of his speech patterns. He was
wearing a tailored suit-which made Frankie relieved that she'd
gone along with Ali's suggestion of the black evening dress-
and smiled broadly as he opened the door.

"Ladies," he said. "You look sensational. C'mon in and malce
yourselves at home."

Now it was Ali's turn to feel flustered. Frankie held out her
hand. "Frankie Treasure," she said. "All's told me a lot about

you."

"Nothing good, I'll bet," he replied as he took her hand.
"Tony Garonne. How'd you like a little tour of the place before
we eat?"

"I'd love it. This is a beautiful house."

"Yeah, well it's what I've got, you know, so I do what I can
with it. Hey, what's the matter, Ali? You got no hello for me
today?"

Ali nodded. "Hello, Tony."

Valenti gave Franhe a wink and ushered them inside. The first
floor was mostly all one room. A tall stone hearth took up one
wall, on another a picture window overlooked the front yard. The
furnishings were simple, but expensive. Two couches faced the

62

front window at angles, a coffee table between them. Rugs that
appeared to be Navajo weavings gleamed on the hardwood
floors. A third wall was taken up with a stereo console and a
wall-screen television. The cabinet under the stereo was filled
with LPs and video cassettes. A long counter divided the kitchen
from the rest of the room. Beside it was a smaD noolc with a tabb
and four chairs.

"There's my bedroom, a guest room and the washroom up~
stairs," Valenti said. "Go take a look if you like. I just got a
couple of things to finish up in the kitchen."

"This is beautiful," Frankie said. She crossed the room to loolc
at a watercolor that hung over the stereo. It showed a county road
overhung with trees, heavily boughed and green. Very much a
Lanark County scene. Frankie fell in love with it on the spot.

"That's by this guy named David Armstrong," Valenti explained. "
I got it at a gallery in Ottawa. Local guy, apparently.
And this"-he pointed to another watercolor, this time a winter
landscape-"is by a lady that lives just up the road towaid Calabogie-
name of Tomilyn Douglas."

"It's lovely."

"Yeah. I got a couple more of hers upstairs. Check 'em out
while I get the last of this cheese sliced."

Frankie glanced at Ali, who was entranced by the size of
Valenti's television screen.

"Look at the size of it," Ali said. "It'd be just like watching
something in a movie theatre."

"We could watch something later if you like," Valenti caLbd
from the kitchen area.

"That'd be great," Ali said, her sudden shyness wearing away.
"C'mon, mom. Let's go look at the upstairs."

More motherly concerns, she supposed as she followed Ali up
the stairs. There was a Richard Gill clay sculpture of a tree in the
hall going up, as well as another Douglas watercolor-a barnyard
scene in muted browns, grays and greens. The two upstairs
rooms were both large and, again, tastefully furnished. But no
books, Frankie thought. Lots of magazines Iying around. People,
Lifc, Newsweek.

"Some place, huh, mom? Wow. Look at this."

Frankie turned away from a Bateman print to look at the littk
soft-sculptured gnome that was standing on the dresser in the
guest room. There was a dusty rose business card beside it that
said "Fabbc Art by MaryAnn Hams." Franlcie smiled at the exp~
e~on on the little gnome's face.

CharIes de LInt

GREENM~J~

63

"I got that up at Andrew Dickson's," Valenti said from the
doorway. "It's a little craft place up in Pakenham. You been up
there yet?"

Frankie shook her head.

"You should check it out sometime. They've got a gallery
upstairs that showcases different artists and craftspeople every
month."

"Once we get settled in and the last of Ali's exams are over,
we'll be doing lots of exploring," Frankie said. "Right now,
everything's still so hectic. BUt it's starting to come together."

'Yakes time."

"You're not kidding. This is a lovely place you have here, Mr.
Garonne."

"Tony."

"Tony," Fraolcie repeated. "There are so many beaudful
things."

"Well' I can't do anything like that myself, but I like to support
those who can. Sort of iike a patrono, you know what I'm
trying to sayT'

Frankie nodded. Actually, the house was almost lilce a "allay.
It was so neat and tidy and all the art was displayed in a professional
manner, complete with the business card for the gnome.
She also felt, from Valenti's enthusiasm, that he really did appre~
ciate what he had hae. It wasn't just for show. Or if it was for
show, the show was for himself. With the money she had now,
she could do as much herself. Though she'd have to be careful
not to go too wild. The money wasn't going to last foreva.

"So who's ready for dinner?" Valenti asked.

The meal was a great success, consisting of antipasta, spagheffl
with clam sauce and garlic bread, washed down with a
white Italian wine. Frankie began to relax; their host didn't seem
inclined to pry. The conversadon had been comfortably pleasant
throughout the meal. ~ fact, Frankie realized later, while Tony
hadn't asked a lot of potendally awkward quesdons, he hadn't
offacd much on his own background either. Maybe they all had
skeletons in their closets, she thought. As far as she was concerned,
they could just stay there.

By the dme they reared to the living room, she was on her
fourth glass of wine and feeling a nice light buzz. Valend shooed
them away from the dishes. "They'll give me something to do in
the morning, you Icnow?" Frankie and Ali commandeered one

64
couch, leaving the other for Valenti, who paused as hc walked by
the stereo.
"Maybe some music?" he asked.   ]?
"Great," Frankie said.     ~i
Ali sat up. "I brought a tape," she said as she reached for her
mother's purse. She rummaged around in it until she came up
with the cassette. She handed it over to Valenti.
"What's this?" he asked.
"It's a surprise. Something I taped up last night. Go ahead and
put it on."
The sun had set and the room was lit only by one floor lamp
over by the stereo. The night beyond the window was the dark
that only a country night can be. Nothing but tape hiss came from
the speakers at first. Then slowly the sound of crickets and frogs,
the whirr of a June bug could be heard.
After a few moments, Franlrie turned to her daughter. "All,
what-"
"Shhh. Listen."
And then it came, a low breath of sound that whispered from
the speakers. Frankie regarded her daughter curiously, but Ali
was watching Valenti. He stiffened with surprise at the first hint
of the distant piping. Ali thought he was going to say something,
but instead he leaned back onto the couch and closed his eyes,
hands behind his head.
He knows something, Ali-thought. She was eager to ask him
about it right away-what was it, who was it, where was it     ~:

coming from9.-but she settled back as well, determined to be

patient. They could talk when the cassene was over.
Frankie was puzzled by both Tony's and her own daughter's
reactions to this odd cassette that Ali had taped. It sounded like
one of those "Environments" records that were so popular in the
seventies. The sound of rain falling. Dusk on a lake shore. Morning
in the desert. Then she heard the music and that started to
remind her of Paul Horn's Inside, only this wasn't the sound of a
flute. Too breathy. It didn't even sound real in a way
She leaned back against the couch herself, feeling a little
woozy. When she closed her eyes, sparks danced in her vision.
She'd never had much tolerance for alcohol, but the high she was
feeling now didn't seem related to what she'd consumed. It was
lil~e doing mushrooms, she thought, surprised herself at how
clearly she could remember that sensation since her days of psychedelia
had been a good sixteen, seventeen years ago. Mescaline.
MDA-though its rushes had been stronger than what she

Charles de Lb*

GREENMANUE

~'

. i
~.~;

.

65

was feeling now. This was lighter, a floating sensation, just
like-

When the cassette machine suddenly clicked off at the end of
the tape, she sat up, startled. She reached for her wine glass, then
thought bener of it. Her head was still buzzing.

"That's some recording," Valenti said softly.

"You've heard it before-haven't you?" Ali asked. "Not this
tape, but the music."

"Sure. Lots of times."

"Where's it coming from?"~

Valenti made a motion with his h.and. "Back there, in the bush
somewhere. I mostly hear it in the spring or summer, so I figure
it's got to be some cottager who's got himself some kind of flute.
It's pretty, isn't it?"

Ali shoolc her head. "No, it's not just pretty. It's magical.
There's something. . .otherworldly about it. Something really
spacey."

Frankie found herself nodding, then studied her daughter. Had
Ali started experimenting with drugs? God, she hoped not.

"Well, yeah," Valenti said. "It's different, sure. But I don't
know about magic." Still, thoughts of the strange girl who'd
dropped out of a tree to sit beside him earlier in the week rose to
the top of his mind. The eyes in that thin face, they'd just
grabbed him and made him sit still in his place until they were
ready to let him go. And then the stag. . .-and the way the music
made him feel. . . Maybe he didn't know about magic, but he
knew about weird.

"Don't you feel something inside you when you hear it?" Ali
asked.

Valenti shrugged. "I suppose . . ."

"Maybe we should be going," Frankie said. "It's getting on to
ten-thirty."

Ali looked from her mother to Valenti, then nodded. "Okay,"
she said without much enthusiasm.

"We'll talk about it some more-next time you come up,"
Valenti said.

That made Ali feel better. When Valenti took the cassette from
the machine and went to give it to her, she shook her head.

"No. You can keep it for awhile if you want."

Valenti smiled, a curious look touching his eyes for a moment.
'Yhat's great," he said. "Listen, do you want some company
going down the road . . .?"

66 Ch~ de L"

"Maybe halfway," Frankie said. "lust so's the boogieman
doesn't nab us."

'.Olcay," Valenti said. "I'U just change my coat."

:' ~
.; ~

"AliT'

Frankie stood in the doorway to her daughter's room and
looked in. Ali was sitting on her bed, wearing the long T-shirt
that passed for a nightie in the summer months. She looked up at
her mother's voice.

"Hi, mom. What's upr'

"I was just wondering. This business with the tape . . . r

"Well, I know you didn't hear the music the night I saw the
deer in the backyard. When I heard it again last night, I taped it. I
wanted to see if you and Tony'd feel the same kinds of things I
did when I heard it. You see-you're going to think I'm crazy-
but there's something secret about that music only I don't know
what it is." Her shoulders lifted and fell. "It just makes me feel,
oh, I don't know. Alive, I guess. Am I making sense?"

"I suppose," Franlcie said. She was about to go to her own
room, when she paused. "You haven't been bying drugs at all,
have you? You Icoow, marijuana or. . .re

Ali shool: her head. "Come on, mom. I might hear ~veird
things in music, but I'm not that dumb."

Not like I was, Frankie thought.

"What malces you think I'd do dope anyway?' Ali wanted to
snow.

"Nothing," Frankie said. "It's just one of those things that
mothers are supposed to worry about-didn't you know that?"

"You can't fool me. I tbinlc you just like to worry."

'Vrhanks a lot."

Ali watched her mother go down the hall to her own room,
tben slowly returned to sit on her be4. She looked out the window,
into the night. What's out there, she wondered. Whst's
really out tbere? Had she just been reading too many fantasy
boolcs?

Although there'd been no answer fortbcoming tonight, she
was determined to find one.

Much the same train of thought was going tbrougb Valenti's
mind as he followed tbe road baclc home. He'd never thought of
taping the music like Ali had. But tben, he'd seen tbe wild girl in
the trees behind Ali's house-seen her rigbt up close. Maybe if

GREENMANTLE

67

we put what we know together, we'll come up with something,
he thought.

He wondered if the wild girl was watching him from the trees
alongside the road right now. There was no warning tickle in the
nape of his neck, but he had the feeling that this girl could be
standing right smack in front of him and he wouldn't see her until
she wanted to be seen.

"But I'm going to find you," he said softly before he went into
the house and closed the door on what was left of the night. "lust
you wait and see."

Invisible in the shadows of the side of his house, a small
figure ~tirred. A smile touched her fox-thin features. She was
drawn to the girl who lived in the dark man's house, but she was
drawn to this man as well. There was a fire in them both. When
they heard the music, it reflected back from them twice as strong.

And tonight . . . hearing Tommy's music coming from both Wold
Hill and inside this man's house at the same time!

She remembered seeing the girl with her little machine in hand
before. Her curly hair tumbled against itself under her hat as she
nodded. She had to get a machine like that and learn how to work
it. She hugged herself in anticipation of how surprised Lewis
would be when she made the machine work its enchanted mimickry
for him. Wouldn't his eyes go big!

Giving Valenti's windows a last con~sidering look, she scampered
off into the forest, heading for the dark man's house.

GREENMAN1LE

CHAPTER TEN

It was two months after he ran across the piece in the Star before
Earl Shaw finally had a chance to go looking for his ex. He'd
been seeing to the`financing of a deal he was setting up for aoother
Colombia-Miami run, and while he knew where he could
get backers, he'd rather put the bread up himself.

He didn't mind using other people's money-preferred it
really-except the people who were making the right kind of
noises this time around were connected. Earl didn't much care for
the kind of interest they'd be expecting when he paid them back.
They were an old outfit, working out of New York City, but new
to the drug trade. Earl wasn't all that keen in getting caught up
between them and the established outfits, but what could you do?
The deal was sure as hell right.

Hearing about Frankie's big wm was the shot in tbe ann Earl
had needed. He Icnew there'd be no problem getting the b~ead out
of her, so he'd been renegotiating his deal with the New Yoric
boys first as well as puning the final touches on the Colombian
end.

Things had started off dicey in New York. He'd had a lot of
meetings with the Magaddino consigliere, Broadway Joe Fucceri,
but in the end things had worked Earl's way. Hell, nobody was
going to give them as sweet a deal as what he'd laid out for them,
especially now that they didn't have to put out any up-front
money. With the deal set for the middle of rune, he flew up to
Ouawa only to hit the first snag in his plans. Frankie'd covered
her tracks too well and she wasn't to be found.

Earl still had trouble figuring her out. Something about her
had changed in the few months before she split and to this day it
didn't make sense. Hell, when they had first met, she'd liked
partying as much as he had. What did having a kid change?

But it had gouen so she didn't want any of the crowd hanging
around the aparunent anymore and then she'd picked up on toe
fact that the job he was going to every night had wthing to do

68

69

with cleaning office buildings. He'd gouen into dealing in a
heavy way. What the fuck-a guy had to live, right? Pushing a
broom around some asshole's office wasn't living, not so far as
Earl Shaw was concerned. And was it his fault he had to start
carrying a piece? The action was getting rough and a man had to
protect his shit or the big boy'd walk all over him. Christ, he was
bringing home thc bacon, wasn't he?

But that didn't cut shit with Frankie. She went all prissy on
him. There was no more talk, no more arguments. One moming
he came home, and she was gone-heading out west where she
started divorce proceedings against him.

He would have followed her-just to show her who was boss
-but about that time he got involved in some action that took
him down to Colombia for a little business trip. After that he'd
drifted . . . Miami, L.A., New York, Van, T.O. He'd put on some
meat and didn't look a whole lot like the skinny hippie he'd been
when he'd first gotten into the drug scene way back when. By the
time he ran across Frankie's picture in the Star, he'd been up and
he'd been down, but he hadn't thought about her or the kid in
years. Had to be an omen, he figured. Things'd been down for so
long this time, they just had to start looking up again.

Which was all well and good, except come Saturday night-
two weeks away from when he was scheduled to fly back to
Bogota-he and Howie had run out of options and were up
against a dead end. It was around ten o'clock that night-when
they were killing a couple of beers in a William Street bar-that
things finally took a tum for the better.

"Earl? Earl Shaw?"

Earl looked up into a drunken face he didn't know. The guy
was a geek, long thin face, big ears, big horn-rims, nice polyester
suit-if you could believe that anyone still wore those things.

"I'm supposed to know you?" Earl asked.

"It's Bob-Bob Goldman, Earl. I used to live upstairs from
you and Frankie back in '73 or so-remember?"

Earl added some length to the geek's short hair, replaced the
horn-rims with a pair of round wire frames, and then he had him.

"Sure," he said. "I remember you now. You got time for a
drink?"

"Don't mind if I do, Earl. Don't mind if I do. I've had one of
those days-you know, those days when nothing, ab-so-lute-ly
nothing goes right?"

Earl nodded sympathetically. "So what're you up to these
days?"

Ch~ de L~

"Well, I moved up from T.O. a couple of years ago. I''n iato
computers now-working as a consultant."

"How's the payT'

"Oh, the pay's good. No complaints. I've got a place out in
the west end and I'm married now, you know. Ioy's expecting our
first."

Earl put an enthusiastic smile on his face. "Hey, tbat's gra~
There's notbingdilce a fam-"

"But you see," Goldman interrupted, "I had to work today-
work late, too-except loy doesn't buy that. But what the hell
am I supposed to do? Listen to her or to my boss? So I said fuel:
her, went in anyway and I'm not going home until I'm good and
pissed. I figure, if she's going to get on my case, I might as well
tie one on and maie all the harping worthwhile."

"Well, I don't know," Earl said. "Take it from one who blew
it. I still miss Frankie and Alice, you know. I'd give anydung to
be able to make things up to them."

He sighed heavily, hoping he was playing it right. Having
lived upstairs from them in Toronto, Goldman probably remembered
some of the fights that had gone down. He'd been pretty
dght with Frankie, too-sided with her a lot. Sbe'd probably
been fucking him on the side.

Earl met Goldman's gaze now, puking as much sincerity as hc
could into his face. "You ever run ioto them?" he asked. "I heard
they moved to Onawa."

Goldman looked uncomfortable and shook his head quickly.
Too quickly, Earl decided. He was remembering things about
Toronto now, Earl saw. Maybe he'd remember that it didn't pay
to fuck around with Earl Shawl

"1, uh, haven't seen her since you two split up," Goldmaa
said. "Are you looking for her?"

Bingo, Earl thought. He knows.

"Well, I wouldn't mind saying hello," he said, "especially to
Alice, but I don't suppose Frankie'dbbc all that keen on seeing
me. It's probably better if we don't get together."

Goldman nodded. "People change."

"Ain't that the truth? So whattre you drinking, Bob?"

Goldman looked at his watch. "Actually, it's getting a little
late. I should be running. But it was great seeing you again,
Earl."

"You bet. Sure I can't change your mind about that drink?"
Earl asked as Goldman stood up.

Goldman shook his head and backed away from their table.

GREENMAN~

ù:

71

"Stick to him," Earl told Howie as Goldman made his way unsteadily
to the door and out to the street.

"I'll get the car. Ten minutes, I'll meet you at the corner of
William and York-got it?"

"Sure, Earl."

Howie left the table and slipped into the crowd. There wasn't
much to Howie, Earl thought as he went to get the car, but you
had to say this for him. When he tailed someone, he stuck on like
a bwr.

"Hey, Bob!"

Goldman turned to see Earl's friend running up to him. The

smaller man had his left hand in the air, holding a wallet and
acting as though Goldman had left it behind. His right hand was
in the pocket of his jacket.

Why the hell had he talked to Earl in the first place? Goldman
wondered. Frankie had told him often enough about the kind of
man Earl had become-about his violence and the kinds of peopk
he hung around with-and Goldman knew why Earl was
looking for her. It was the Wintario prize.

"I think you forgot something," Howie said as he reached
him.

"I don't think-" Goldman tried.

Howie moved in close and nudged him with his pocketed gun.
"You know what this is?" Howie asked softly.

Goldman nodded.

"So we wait up at the comer for Earl and there's no problem
rightT'

"Look, whatever-"

Howie shook his head. "I don't want to hear it. Let's just wait
for Earl, okay? We're playing by his rules."

As they reached the comer Earl pulled over to the curb in a
metallic blue Chev. Howie motioned Goldman into the back seat,
then climbed in beside him.

"Listen," Goldman began.

Earl turned to face him. "Hold that thought," he said. "We're
going for a little drive so we can have some privacy and then
you're going to tell me everything I want to know about Frankie
-am I rightT'

Goldman swallowed, then nodded.

"That's my boy," Earl said. He reached over and patted Goldman'
s cheek, then turned to face front. Putting the Chev into
gear, he pulled away from the cwb.

72 a~es de ~

* * *

They drove Goldman into Industrial Park off Old Innes Road
and parked the Chev behind some warehouses. Earl killed the
engine and stepped out of the car. He stood, listening to the
distant traffic on Russell Road. When he was sure there was no
one in the immediate vicinity, he motioned to Howie. Howie got
Goldman out of the car.

'Vkay, Bob," Earl said. "It's nice and quiet here. There's no
one to disturb us. Now I want you to tell me what you know
about Frankie. You could start with where she's living now."

"I don't know too much," Goldman began.

Earl hit him in the stomach, stepping back as Goldman doubled
over, gasping.

"I'll decide what's too much or too little," he said. "Now
talk."

"She. . . she was living on Gloucester when she won the lottery.
Joy and I used to visit them sometimes, or she and Ali
would come over to our place for dinner...." He glanced at Earl,
the fright plain in his eyes. In the vague lighting they had a
glazed look to them.

"You're doing good so far," Earl said. "So where's she living
now? The paper said something about her fixing up her old man's
place, but it didn't say where. Did she ever talk to you about it?"

"It's in Lanark. Her. . . hef dad used to own a place just outside
of Lanark."

Earl nodded. "I thought it was around that area, though I
would've put it further south. You got some details now on how
to get there?"

"I don't know the exact address-it's on a dirt road-but I
can . . . I could draw a map or something."

Earl gave Howie a wave. Howie dug a ballpoint pen out of his
pocket. Looking around for sometbing to write on, he spotted a
cigarette package which he tore open, eKposing the white inside.

"How's this?"

"It's good," Earl said and handed them to Goldman. "Draw,
Bob. You can use the hood of the car."

Hands shaking, Goldman drew out a map of the way to Fran~
lcie's place, praying that he was remembering it properly. He and
Joy had only been out there once and that was in April, before the
place was finished.

"Okay," Earl said as he studied the map. "You did good." He
took out his own gun and motioned Goldman away from the car.
"On your knees, Bob."

GREENM~

73

"Please . . ."

"See, we've got a problem now," Earl said conversationally.
"You've made us and if you'd spill your guts so quickly to us,
~vLat's to stop you from doing the same to the man?"

"No," Goldman said earnestly. "I won't tell the police or anyone.
I swear! I won't tell a soul. Please. For Cod's sake, I'll do
whatever you want, just don't . . . hurt. . ."

His voice trailed off as Earl stepped in close, holding the
barrel of his gun up to Goldman's mouth.

"Suck on this," Earl said.

"Win-what. . .?"

"I s~ud, suck on it."

Tremors ran up and down Goldman as he leaned forward and
placed his mouth around the cold metal. Earl put his free hand on
the top of Goldman's head. Crabbing a handful of the short hair,
he rammed the gun deeper into Goldman's mouth. From where
Howie stood, he could see the wild light in Earl's eyes as he
pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was somewhat muffled, Goldman's
head serving as a natural baffle. The bullet took out most of the
back of the head when it exited. Extracting the weapon, Earl
pushed the body away from where it sprawled in the dirt.

"Bye-bye, Bob," he said.

"Shit," Howie muttered.

Earl turned to him. "You got a problem?"

Howie regarded him for a long moment, then slowly shook his
head. "What're we going to do with him?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, but. .."

"Look, he had us made. We're not talking nickels and dimes
here, Howie, m'man. We're talking about a major slice of two
hundred grand. We're talking about what that money's going to
buy us in Colombia-you see where I'm heading? Against all
that, this guy ain't worth shit. What's the matter with you anyway?
Were you queer for him?"

Howie shook his head.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."

Howie nodded and got into the passenger's side. "What about
your ex?" he asked as Earl started up the car.

"What about her?"

'You really think she's just going to hand over the money?:'

"She's got a kid," Earl said. "We're going to take the kid, then
if she don't pay, the kid goes."

74

Ch~es de Lh*

"But it's your kid, too."

Earl shook his head wearily. "Christ, Howie. I haven't seen
the little squirt for ten years. What's she to me but a baby version
of her old lady, huh? I didn't see her coming to stay with her
daddy when Frankie walked out on me."

"Well, when you put it like that," Howie said.

"Yeah," Earl said. "I put it like that. Now keep your eyes open
for a new set of wheels. I figure these've got a little hot by now."

"Are we going out tonight?" Howie asked. "After your ex?"

Earl shoolc his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of a
nice Sunday drive. We could pull into her place just about the
time the sun's going down so we don't get lost driving in."

"Makes sense."

Earl grinned, eyes on the road. '.That's what I like about you,
Howie. You know how to push, but you're not stupid, so you
know when to settle back and let things slide, too."

Howie didn't bother replying. He didn't have to. Earl was
talking more to himself, thinking aloud. Howie settled back in
the seat, trying to keep the memory of the fool: on Earl's face
when he pulled the trigger out of GoWman's head. Howie didn't
ever want to get on Earl's wrong side, he decided. It just didn't
pay.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

::
1

"Mom?" Ali called as she came dOwn the stairs. "Have you seen
my Walkman? I was sure I'd left it on my bed this morning,
but . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she reached the kitchen and found
Frankie on the phone, looking serious. Ali sat down at the
kitchen table and tried to remember how long ago she'd heard the
phone ring. Whoever it was on the other end of the line, they
weren't exactly calling up with good news. At least not from the
look on her mother's face.

"Who was that?" she asked when Frankie finally hung up.

'1hat was Joy. She. . . oh, Ali! Bob was killed last night."

"What?"

"He was shot," Frankie said, still trying to come to grips with
tbe news herself. "The police found his body behind a warehouse
last niBht and got his name from his wallet, but Joy still had
to . . . she still had to identify the body. .

"Oh, Mom. That's horrible.

Frankie nodded dully. Had someone asked her, she would not
have numbered the Goldmans among her closest friends. She saw
them more for old times' sake, for the support that Bob had given
her through the hard times in Toronto. But even though they
didn't have a great deal in common anymore, she still felt very
close to Joy in the walce of this temble news. The poor woman
was five months into her first pregnancy and had lost her parents
over the winter....

"I told her I'd go stay with her," Franlcie said. "At least until
Bob's parents fly in from Calgary. They're due in on a nine
o'clock flight."

"I don't have to go, do I?" The last thing Ali wanted was to bo
a part of this kind of bummer.

"I don't think you should stay here by yourself."

"Aw, ctmon, Mom. I'm not a kid anymore."

76

Charles de LInt

Franlcie shook her head. "It'd bc different if we still lived ia
town, but out here . . ."

"I'm probably safer out here than I'd bc in town."

"Well . . ."

"Besides, I could always go up to Tony's. Maybc he'd Ict me
watch a movie or something till you get back."

Frankie looked at the stove clock. Five past two. Shc'd promised
loy that she'd bc in town by three-thirty at thc latest and she
still had to change.

"Mom?"

"Okay," Frankie said. "But phone him now while I go
change."

Ali nodded. "I'll ask him if I can go up later in thc afternooa,
because l'vc still got some studying and stuff to do."

"Finc," Frankie said, already on her way down the hall.

By thc time Frankie was back downstairs, Ali was waiting for
her by the front door, purse and car keys extended.

"Tony says it's okay," she said. "I'm going up around dinnertime."

"
Don't make a pest of yourself," Frankic said as she took her
purse and keys from Ali.

"Mom!"

Frankie blinked, then looked at her daughter. "I'm sorry, Ali.
I keep forgetting how big you're getting. Look, I'll be back as
quicl~ as I can, all right? But things might drag on, so don't wait
up for me."

"What time should I come home fort'

"I forgot-you'll be at Tony's. What time does hc go to bed,
do you know?"

Ali shook her head.

"Well, if it's all right with him, wait for me there," Frankie
said, not wanting to think of Ali walking that dark road by herself
at night. "OkayT'

"Sure. Don't worry about me. I can always snooze on his
couch if I Bet tired."

Frankie nodded. Thank God she'd met Tony last night. She'd
been fccling a little nervous about Ali's friendship with him at
first, but she'd gotten a good feeling from him last night. Now
she felt that she could trust him so there was that much less to
worry about. Shc pulled Ali close for a hug.

"Be good," she said.

"I will. Don't get into an accident trying to get there too
quicl~ly.~,

GREENMANTLE

A brief smile touched Frankie's lips. "I won't, Mother."
"You'd better go," Ali said, "or you'll be late."
Frankie nodded and hurried to the car.

77

An hour of studying her biology was about all that Ali could
talce. It was one of her favorite subjects, but some days simply
weren't meant for studying. She was tired of trying to decipher
the handwriting in her notebook, the textbook was written in a
style that was about as interesting as having the flu, the house
was too quiet, and she just felt too cooped up.

It was time to go outside and see photosynthesis at work, first
hand. Time to look at some insects, instead of photographs of
microscopic spores. Time to collect leaf samples, bark samples
-in short, it was time for some fieldwork.

The first thing she did was turn the earth in the vegetable plot
that she and her mother had marked out earlier in the day. Tony
had given her all kinds of seeds and she was excited about having
her very first garden. She saved the sod she'd dug up to put in
around the front of the house where it was needed, but by the
time she was finished digging in the garden, she was too hot and
sweaty to do anything with them. Tomorrow would be soon
enough, she hoped. What she wanted now was a shower.

Once inside, she hurried upstairs to get undressed. She pulled
off her T-shirt, standing in front of the window, and looked out,
thinking how nice it was to be able to change in front of an open
window and not have to worry about anyone staring in at you.

She tossed her T-shirt into a corner of her room and started to
take off her shorts when she paused, thinking she saw something
move in the trees beyond their backyard. She backed away
quickly and put her T-shirt on again. Maybe it's the stag, she
thought and brought her binoculars to the window. But when she
had them focused and had brought the object of her interest up
close, she saw that it wasn't the stag. It looked like a person. Ali
frowned as she studied what she could see of the figure in the
glasses, remembering the other morning when she'd thought
she'd seen someone spying on the house.

It didn't look like an adult, she decided, but it was hard to tell
if it was even a boy or girl with that floppy hat on. The long hair
didn't tell her anything. Then she saw what the figure was fooling
around with. It was her Walkman.

The nerve of that kid! First stealing her Walkn an, and then
sitting out there, practically in her backyard, mucking around

78

Charles de Lint

with it. Tossing the binoculars onto her bed, Ali raced downstairs
and out the front door.

She circled around to the back by way of the road that went up
to Tony's, keeping to the ditch and using what cover she could.
Here's where all those late night Westerns canne in handy, she
thought. She was Ali Wayne, sneaking up on the outlaws. Clint
Treasure, closing in on her bounty.

Moving as quietly as she could, she crept nearer. When she
finally spotted her target, she realized that she could probably
have driven a trailbike in and barely been noticed. The, girl-
thank God she wasn't some muscle-bound farm boy-had the
earphones on and was listening to the tape that Ali had left in the
machine the last time she was playing it. From the expression oa
the girl's face, Ali couldn't tell if she liked the Flashdance tape
or not. She looked like she'd never heard that kind of music
before in her life.

Living out here, she probably never had, Ali thought cattily as
she moved in closer still, taking care to keep out of the girl's line
of ns~on.

Ali was just a few feet behind the girl when either the tape
ended or some sixth sense made the girl turn around. Before she
could take off with the Walkman, Ali ran forward and jumped at
her. She bore the girl to the ground, straddling her. The body
under her was hard with muscles and moved quick as a cat. A
hand leaped up to rake Ali's face with its long nails, then paused,
inches from her eyes. Thc two girls stared at each other-Ali
trying to hide her fear, the other girl wary as a wild animal.

Slowly Ali got up from her and backed a step away. "Th-that's
mine," shc said, pointing to the Waliman. "You stole it from
me." She hoped that her trembling wasn't too noticeable.

"I didn't steal it," the girl said. She straightened her hat as she
spoke. The earphones which she'd been wearing upside down,
where they'd hung like a loose chin-guard, had fallen to her lap.
"I found it."

"You found it in my room!" Ali cried, her anger gening the
bener of her fear again.

The girl shrugged. "I just borrowed it. I was going to bring it

"Who are you anyway?" Ali demanded. "You've been spying
on us, and now you've stolen something. I should just call the
cops."

The girl handed the Waliman back to Ali. "My nune's Meg

GREEN~

79

"an," she said. "Mally Meggan. And I wasn't spying on you-1was
just watching your house."

'1hat's the same as spying."

Mally shrugged. "I've watched that house since the darlc mao
first built it."

"The dark man? Who's that? My grandfather?"

"I don't know his name. He was just a dark man."

"He was a black man?"

Mally shook her head. "He was black in here," she said,
touching her hear' with a small hand. "He's the one who unravelled
the music and nothing's been thq same since. People have
moved away and nobody new comes. It was all his doing."

"Is that you playing the music?" Ali asked. "The piping I hear
at night sometimes?" She sat down, fiddling with the Walkman in
her hand.

"No. That's Tommy. I'm not any part of that." She grinned

suddenly. "But I am apart from it all."

Ali shook her head, not getting the joke. None of this was
making sense. "Do you live around here?" she tried again.

"Back there," Mally said with a wave of her hand. The motioa
was wide, taking io a great deal of land.

"With Tommy?"

"No. He lives with the others. I live by myself."

"But where do you live.?" Ali asked.

"In the forest."

"By yourself?"

Mally nodded.

"I guess you've got a cabio or something."

"No. In the forest. I'm a secret, you see."

Ali shook her head and sighed. This was geniog much too
weird for her. "If you're a secret," she said, "how come you've
showo yourself to mc.?"

"But I dido't-you caught me."

"But you're telliog me all these thiogs...."

"Listen," Mally said. "You hear the music, don't you?"

"Yes. Well, I've heard it ooce or twice."

"Aod the stag came to you, didott he?"

Ali nodded.

"The music wakes somethiog inside those who hear it. Io you,
it wolce a light. Io some, it walces somethiog not so fioe."

"Lilce your dark mao?"

"E,tacdy "
"But . . ."

80 Charles de l~nt

Mally stood up abruptly, a silverquiclc movement that startled
Ali. "The stag is one of the world's mysteries," Mally said. "I'm
just a secret. The way your name is just a part of mine. So when
we met each other, we already knew each other-in part. Isn't
that truer'

Ali shook her head. "I don't quite follow that," she began, but
Mally cut her off.

"Not now, perhaps," she said. "But you will. Or you might. It
all depends."

"On what?"

"On who you leun to be."

Before Ali could ask her what she meant, Mally doffed her hat
and gave a little bow. Ali stared at the two small horns that curled
up from the tangle of her hair.

"Y-you . . . have . . ."

"Many things," Mally said, "but no longer a machine that
mimicks Tommy's pipes. Good-bye, Ali."

She began to back away, a smile touching her fox-thin features.

"
No!" Ali cried. "Wait a sec . . ."

Her voice trailed off as the wild girl turned and bolted into the
forest. Ali watched her go, stunned at her speed at her quick
feline grace. She seemed to flow between the trees like the stag,
or more like a cat, and in moments was gone.

Ali looked down at the Walkman in her hands, then away to
where Mally had disappeared. I'm going crazy, she thought. This
didn't happen. I didn't meet some girl with homs, her clothes all
tattery and covered with burrs, her hair a thicket, her eyes . . . She
got shakily to her feet, half-detemmined to follow after the wild
girl, then slowly fumed and made her way home.

When she was inside, she laid her WaLkman down on the
kitchen table and sat down in a hardback chair feeling completely
drained. This was the kind of thing that didn't happen in
real life, she tried to tell herself. Only in stories. Kids ran across
magical beings in Alan Garner books, or something written by
Caitlin Midhir, not in the here and now.

But. . . She sighed, trying to put it in a more rational perspective.
Except for the homs, it had just been a strange encounter,
hadn't it? An odd meeting, that was all. Except for the horns.
Maybe they were fake. Maybe Mally had just pretended they
were real to mess around with her head. Except the wild girl had
moved so fast. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. It

w"-

GREENMANUE

81

The phone jangled suddenly and Ali just about leapt off her
seat. With a trembling hand, she snagged the receiver and spoke
into it.

"H-hello?"

"Hey, Ali. I thought you were coming up for dinner."

It was Tony. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Ten past
six. Oh God, it was late!

"Jeez, Tony. 1, uh, forgot about the time."

"So are you coming, or what?"

"I'm coming."

"Hey, are you okay kid? You sound a little funny."

"No. I'm fine. I'm just going to take a shower and then I'll be

up."

"Okay. But don't take too long. It's going to be dark in an
hour and a half and I'll bet your momma doesn't want you walking
the road in the dark."

Ali thought about horned girls and stags, about the music that
came at dusk if it were going to come at all, and shivered. Never
mind her mother, she didn't want to be out there in the dark.

"I'll hurry," she said.

GREENM~

CHAPTER TWELVE

On Sunday afternoon, Earl and Howie snatched a Toyota in Nepean
and left Ottawa by way of the Queensway. The sun was
weltering and low, shining in their eyes as they followed High
way 7 through Carleton Place to the turnoff at Highway 10 that
would take them into Lanadc. By the time they reached Lanaric, it
was going on seven-fifteen and the sun was an orange ball above
the horizon.

"It's starting to come back to me," Earl said as they toolc
Highway I out of the village.

Howie glanced up from the rough map that they'd gotten from
Bob Goldman. "What is?"

"This place we're going to."

"You've been here beforer'

"Fuck, no." Earl shot him a quick glance and grinned. "But
Frankic taLlced about it a few times, about how weW her old man
was and this place he lived in. You had to get her pretty high
first. I just never connected it until Bobby-boy spilled his guts."

"So he wasn't shifflng us?"

Earl grinned. "The only shifflng he was doing was the load he
dropped in his pants. No, this feels right, Howie, m'man."

"The turn's coming up," Howie said as they passed a sign for
Brightside.

Eari grunted an acknowledgement as the turn approached.

"How do you think it's gonna go?" Howie asked.

"Sweet and easy. Frankie's always been good at running away
from problems, but when it comes to facing up to something, she
just folds."

"What about the kid?"

'~he kid's gonna do what she's told or she's shit out of lucl`.
Christ, they call this a roadr'

"Sunday drive," Howie sai].

"Guess they got some real influential taxpayers living out tbis
way."

82

83

Howie laughed. They passed a turnoff to thc right. "Better
slow down," he said. "We've got another mile or so and then
we're there."

Earl slowed the car down a few moments later when a house
came into view.

"That's gotta be it," Howie said.

Earl nodded, taking in the building debris that littered the
front yard. He cruised on by until a curve in the road took them
out of sight of the house and then pulled over to the side.

"What time you got?" he asked..

"Seven-thirty."

"Okay."

Earl turned the car in the narrow road, happy now that they'd
picked something as small as the Toyota. He'd wanted a two-door
so that the kid'd be easier to keep an eye on. They drove back
toward the house and took the first left after it, pulling over to the
side of the road again. Stands of cedar and pine screened them
from the house.

"Well, Howie, m'man," he said as he killed the engine.

"Looks like it's time to go."

Howie nodded. They got out of the car together and walked
back down the road.

Earl slapped at his neck. "Fucking mosquitos."

Howie waved them from his own face. He watched Earl play
with the butt of his gun that was sticking out of the top of his
belt. He hoped things were going to go a little cleaner than they
had last night.

Ali saw the Toyota go slowly by the house as she was locking
the front door and didn't think twice about it. By the time it
returned, she was in the kitchen, looking for a bag to cany her
Tom Brown Jr. field guides in as she went up to Tony's place.
She found a plastic shopping bag from the Perth IGA, dumped
the books into it and hurried out the back door.

She was already running late, but the moment she stepped
outside, she paused, testing the air for sound, studying the edge
of the ~voods. There could be anything out there, from Mally
with her horns to who knew what? The sun was almost down
behind the trees. Shadows were growing long.

Get a move on, she told herself. Bad enough she was late. She
didn't want to arrive at Tony's all out of breath from obviously
having run the whole way. He'd thinlc she was more of a kid than
he probably already did-scared of the darlc, or of meeting bom

84 Cha~ de Llr~

giernen in the woods. Boogiewomen? Do you know how to boo.
gie, Mally?

She shook her head, angry at herself, and started across the
lawn, pausing again when she heard car doors slam on the road
leading up to Tony's place. She moved quickly across the baclcyard,
then through the weeds in the field between their property
and the road, raising a cloud of mosquitos that whined around her
face. There, a little ways down the road, was the car. A Toyota.
And she was just in time to see a couple of men down at thc
corner where Tony's road met the dirt one that ran by her own
house.

This is weird, she thought. Are they going to our place? But
that couldn't be-or at least it didn't make any sense. Why
would they park where they had?

A pinprick of worry started up her spine as she headed bacl:
toward the house, staying hidden in the trees that bordered Tony's
road. The two men were coming up their driveway, but what
made her stop again, what made new shivers of fear go catpawing
up her spine, was not the men, but the eerie sound of distant
piping that floated from the forest northwest of where she was
h~dmg.

That's Tommy, shc thought, remembering what the wild girl
had told her. Tommy playing reedpipes. Whoevcr Tommy
was . . .

"Here's OK for you," Earl said as the house came into vkw.

"What's thatr'

"The one thing we didn't think of-what if nobody's home7'

Howie glanced at him, then at the house. No car, he noted
first off. Living out in the sticks like this, everybody'd hew a
car.

"So what do we dot' he asked.

"Check it out. Wait around a bit."

But not too long, Howie hoped, because that was just asking
for trouble. Only try telling Earl that. Howie sighed. He wished
they were back in T.O. right now, or even in New York, being
wined and dined by Broadway Joe. The showgirl that Joe had
provided Howie with had been everything Tandy Hots with her
act in the strip club had promised her to be. Young. Built. There
just to please him. The way she'd wrapped her legs around his-

A sudden uneasiness touched him, killing the memory. He
cocked his head, listening.

"You hear that, Earl?" he asked softly.

GREENM - 1~

85

Earl nodded and turned toward him, his features no longer
clearly defined as the night crept in around them. "Yeah," he
said. "Some kinda. . . I don't Icnow. . ."

"Music."

"Yeah. But it's not just that. It's like we've been made, you
knowT'

Howie looked nervously around. "We're being watchedT'

Earl nodded. He faced the cedars where Ali was crouched,
hugging her knees to keep from trembling.

"I don't Icnow who the fuck you are," Earl said, "but I know
you're in there. If you've got any smarts, you're gonna step out
here where we can get a nice long look at you, because you don't
want to know what'll happen to you if I goua go in there to get
you."

Ali stumbled out onto the lawn and stared at the strangers.

"Well, well, well," Earl said. "Look what we got here. How's
your old lady, kid? Beuer yet, where's your old lady?"

"Win-who are youT'

Earl gave Howie a pained look that was mostly lost in the
twilight and shook his head. "Fucking kid doesn't even recognize
her own old man," hc said. "Doesn't that take the cake?"

Howie brushed bugs away from his neck. "Maybe she's waiting
to see what kind of present you brought her."

Earl chuckled.

"N-no. . ." she mumbled.

"Oh, yeah," Earl said. "No mancr what that whore of a
n;other's told you about me, you're still stuck with me as your
old man. Now you see, I figure it's about time I took custody
of-"

"No!" Ali cried, swinging her bag at him. Her shrill voice
startled the men. The books struck Earl's chest, knocking him off
balance. Before he could recover, or Howie could react, Ali had
turned and bolted back the way she'd come.

She ran to the rhythm of the distant music that was calling to
her, speeding across the lawn, sleek and fast like a stag, through
the field, then up the road to Tony's place.

Behind, Earl reached for his gun. Howie took a step
toward him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Earl demanded. "Get after
her!"

Howie blinked, then nodded and took off across the lawn,
following the sound of the girl's footsteps. An ugly smile cut
Earl's face as he set after them.

a86 Charles de L"

Little bitch was going to pay for that. Where'd she think she
was con~ng off anyway, hitting her old man?

Valenti sat up and checked his watch as the tape of piping Soished
in his cassene machine. It was gening late. About time he could hear
the real thing come drifting from the woods behind his place. About
time for Ali to be here as well. Where was she?

He got up and turned off the stereo, then went to the front door
and stood out on the steps. There'd been something funny about her
voice when he'd called earlier, something he couldn't quite place. He
looked across the darkening fields. Like someone suffering mild
shock, he thought, recalling the quality of it now. What could have
happened?

He turned back into the house, thought of calling her agam, then
decided he'd go down the road to meet her instead. And just to satisfy
the uneasiness he felt, just for insurance's sake-"You can never be too
careful, Tony," Mario had been fond of telling him-he crossed over
to his stereo cabinet and opened the cupboard on the bonom left.

It needed the key that was always in the pocket of whatever he
was wearing to get into it. And then you had to know the right board
to push on the side of the cupboard that palocked the hidden
compart~nent pacer its floor.

He pulled the false floor-away to reveal a cavity that went down
into the space between the ground floor and the raof of the basement
below. There were rifles in there, a shotgun, a UZI machine gun, some
handguns, boxes of cartridges, spare magazines for the automatics and
the UZI, and a large fireproof box that held various IDs and travelling
money in case he ever needed it. Ten thousand dollars in used
American bills. Another couple of grand in Canadian currency.

He looked at the weapons, thought for a moment, then extracted a
small .32 automatic. He checked its load, then snapped the magazine
back into its grip and slipped the weapon into the pocket of a
windbreaker. Putting the false floor back in place, he locked the
cupboard once more, then put on the jacket. He picked up his cane by
the dos~r and went out into the night, moving as quidcly as his bad leg
could take him.

When he first heard the piping start up he was already out of his
own yard and on the road. The music didn't register straigbt off. He'd
been listening to Ali's tape so often during the day that the piping had
almost become a part of his thoughts. But now as he paused to listen,
waving bugs from around his head, be heard

GREENMAN1=          87

someone come running up the road. He switched the cane to his left
hand, thrust his right into the pocket with his .32. It wasn't just one
someone, he realized as he took the automatic off safety.

When Earl hit the road, he turned right instead of following Howie
and his daughter. He sprinted for the Toyota, snapped the door open
and got in. He touched the wires together that they'd pulled out earlier
when they'd stolen the vehicle and the car coughed into life.

Right, he thought. He put the car into gear, hit the lights, then
tromped on the gas. The peppy little car roared forward, headlights
cutting the night like a dragon's gaze. Earl switched the beams to high
and speed-shifted into second gear as the car picked up enough speed.

Ali just about died when the headlights came on behind her and
picked out the man coming toward her from the direction of Tony's
house. The sound of the car's engine drowned the piping, but she
could still hear it inside. She was still the stag, fleeing the hounds. She
almost bolted into the bush, then realized who it had to be on the road
in front of her.

"Tony!" she cried.

The man pulled his hand from his pocket and thc headlights
sparked on the metal in his hand. He levered thc weapon in her
direction.

Howie heard the car start up and nodded to himself. Good
thinking, Earl. The kid was going to outdistance them, but not if she
stuck to the road. Then the headlights lit up the scene in front of him.
Beyond the girl, he saw a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Howie scrambled for his own weapon as the stranger levered his gun,

then realized that Earl was burning up the road behind him.

He lunged for the side of the road just as the car reached where
he'd been running. There came a sudden crash, as though another car
had plowed into the side of the Toyota. Howie shot a glance in its
direction and his eyes went wide with fear.

Move, Howie, Earl thought, or you're dead meat. Maybe he'd just
clip the kid. Sbe wouldn't be ruMing anywhere so fast then. And if he
miscalculated, well, what the fuck. He didn't need to deliver her in one
piece. He just needed her for as long as it took Frankie to cough up
the money. And if Frankie didn't Icnow the

! ~ f i f : - ~ ~ f ~ ~ I ~ ~ , . ~ ~ f

_ ~ ~

., {'d [~ ji ~ t1.~> ]~!'

90 Charles de Llnt

His name was Shaw.... Ernie Shaw? A small-time punk that
they'd used once because he'd had a connection in Miami that
came in very handy for a deal the family was working on at the
ti~ne.

Valenti had been the family's spokesman for that deal, wor}ing
with this Shawl There was no way Shaw hadn't made him
now, and there was no way Shaw wasn't going to spill his guts to
the first member of thepatellanza he could get a hold of.

As he lifted his gun Valenti was surprised at the feeling that
touched him. It wasn't as though this punk didn't have it coming
for a lot of other reasons. It wasn't as if Valenti had never killed a
man before. But there was a feeling of wrongness about what he
was doing now-just as earlier he'd sensed a rightness about the
arrival of the stag. The music heightened that feeling. But if he
didn't do something right now, he might as well go back to New
York and hand himself over to the new Don, because they sure as
fuck were going to be coming for him if he didn't.

"Get the wires," Earl hissed.

"Christ, man. I've been-"

'~Get them."

Gritting his teeth, Howie bent over and fumbled with the
wires. When he had them connected, Earl turned the engine over.
Once, twice. He bent low as Valenti fired, the bullet shanering
the windshield and whining -above his head. The third time he
tried the engine, it caught. Foot on the clutch, he rammed the
gear shift into first, eased the clutch out again, then floored the
gas pedsl.

As the Toyota leapt forward Valenti dodged out of the way.
Earl checked the rearview, but it was too dark to see where Valenti
had gone. Now if they could just get away from that fucking
psycho deer. . .

He hit the brakes and pulled hard on the wheel, slewing the
car into a 180-degree turn, tires spiring dirt into the underbrush
on either side of the road. The headbeams caught Valenti struggling
to his feet. Gotcha, Earl thought as he tromped on the gas
agaiD.

But the stag stepped out of the woods to stand almost on top
of Valenti so Earl had to swerve by him. He heard the pop of
Valenti's gun, thought about staying to play this out, but the odds
were all wrong. There was that deer, for one thing; the fact that it
was TODY Valenti who was here, for another. He'd let the mob
boys nandle Valenti. For a price, he'd lead them right to nim.

GREEN~

: ~

. [
.- ?

~'

l

. 1
. 1
. 1

.

~ 1
i

,~
,i;n
;

91

And then he'd finish his own business with lime tombig-for-herbritches
Alice Treasure.

"I . . . I need a doe," Howie said from the seat beside him.

Earl shot him a glance. For a moment he felt like opening the
passenger's door and just booting Howie out, but what the fuel``
He'd done his best. It wasn't Howie's fault he was such a dipstick.

"
Just hang in there," he said. "First we need new wheels."

"O-okay, Earl."

"Hang tough, Howie, rn'man. Things just look bad. But the
truth is, they're turning sweeter all the time."

He grinned, concentrating on the road. When he reached
Highway 1, he turned left, heading for the join-up with 511 that
would take them into Calabogie. A couple of guys he knew had a
conage out that way who owed him a favor or two. This bein8
the weekend, he figured they'd be up. If they weren't . . . Well,
he didn't think they'd complain about him using the place. Not if
they still wanted to own their balls after they were done tall~ing to
him.

Valenti rose slowly from the dirt and watched the taillights
disappear. He didn't know what had made Shaw swerve at the
last moment, but he wasn't complaining. He returned his automatic
to his pocket and picked up his cane.

Time to go, he thought asbe stood up and brushed the dirt off
his jeans. He wondered how long he had. Till Shaw reached a
phone? Valenti knew he'd winged Shaw's partner. Maybe they'd
see to the man's shoulder first. So what did he have-an hour
tops? Then he thought of Ali.

He looked up the road to his place. realizing that the music
had died away again. That made him think about the stag, which
in turn brought him back to his own predicament. He had to be
gone-by yesterday-but he couldn't just leave Ali alone. Take
her with him? No way.

Still trying to decide what he should do, he limped up the road
to the place he'd called home for the past year and a half. He was
sure going to.miss it.

GREEN~

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ali was sitting on a corner of the couch nearest the fireplace
when Valenti came in. Shc was wearing jeans and a white cottonknit
sweater and holding a plastic bag between her legs that she
was staring at. When he stepped inside, she looked up with a
nervous jerk, then settled her gaze on the floor by her feet once
more.

"You okay?" Valenti asked.

She shrugged. "I guess."

"You wanna talk about it?"

She nodded, shooting him a quick glance.

Valenti smiled. "Okay. You just take it easy while I make us
some cocoa-how's that sound?"

"That'd be fine. D.o you . . . do you want some help?"

That's the girl, Valenti thought. "You bet," he said aloud. "I
can never get the cocoa to dissolve properly and if there's anything
I hate, it's lumps of cocoa floatinR up and touching my lips

when I'm talcing a sip-you know what I mean7'

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"C'mon," he said.

He waited while Ali laid her baB of books aside and went into
the kitchen, then quickly switched his .32 from the jacket he was
wearing to the pocket of a sportsjacket which he then put on.

"The cocoa's in the cupboard on ~e right there-second shelf
up," he said as he came into the kitchen. "Can you reach it?"

"I think so."

"Good. I'll get the milk."

There was a nip in the air that was due as much to what they'd
just gone through, Valenti thought, as to the actual temperature,
so he built a small fire in the hearth and they sat in front of it
sipping their cocoa and talking. Ali told him all about her afternoon,
from why her mother'd gone into town to her confrontation
with the wild girl who called herself Mally Meggan.

92

93

"She had horns?" Valenti interrupted when Ali was describing
Mally. "You mean like real horns?" He was remembering the girl
who'd dropped out of a tree on him a few nights ago. She hadn't
had horns that he could see, but then she'd been wearing a hat. A
floppy brimmed hat like Ali's wild girl had.

t1-All nodded. "Just small ones-like the kind you see on ante

lope."

"And she lives in the bush?"

'`That's what she said. In the forest itself-not in a cabin or a
house or anything. And she told me that the music we hear is
played by some guy named Tommy...."

She went on to describe the rest of their conversation, regaining
some of her old spirit as she did. It wasn't until she started to
tell him about leaving her house and hearing the car doors slam
that she began to get nervous once more, her voice lowering. She
wouldn't meet Valenti's gaze as she told him about the men
catching her spying on them, what one of them had said about his
being her father, and then the chase.

"And then . . . Well, you know the rest."

She looked at him finally and Valenti nodded. The stag hithog
Shaw's car, Valenti shooting Shaw's partner, the two men escap

ing . . .

"Do you think he's really my father?" Ali asked.

"You don't like that idea much, do you?"

Ali shook her head.

"Let me tell you something, Ali," he said. "It doesn't matter
who your pa~ents were, it's what you make of yourself-understand?
You want something bad enough-you want to be something
bad enough-nothing's going to stop you but you. You can
pick stuff up-like habits, or a certain way of saying things-by
living with people, but just because your old man's a piece of
shit, that doesn't mean that you are."

"Yeah, but why would my mom. . . you know. . . why would
she want to marry a guy like that?"

Valenti shrugged. "I don't know. I'm betting he wasn't like
that when they first met. People change-not always for the
better. When that happens in a relationship, sometimes the only
thing you can do is get out. Sounds to me, from things you've
told me-and having met your momma, who's some kind of
lady-that that's what she did. She's nobody's fool."

"You know him, don't you?" Ali asked. "That guy who said
he was my father."

"What manes you say that?"

a94

some shooting. . ."

4Just the way you're talking." :@
"Yeah," Valenti said. "I know him. He's a punlc. A small-   ~)
bme, smart-ass punk. But that doesn't make him any less danger-  ~)
ous,,, ~!
"If he is my father, why would he wait so long to come after     7:

me?~,

'Well, I've been thinking about that," Valenti said, "and I

figure he heard about your momma winning that lottery. He prob-  ~i

ably figures therets some bucks to be made-wants his own cut
of tbe action."

Ali nodded. "What happened after I left? I thought I heard  ~t

~. ~
~

Charles de Lint

Valenti studied her for a moment. Shc was holding up pretty well
Maybe right now she wasn't exactly the same happy-golucky kid that
bounced around his place and told him jokes and stuff, but she was
holding her own. Spunky kid like her, you Wouldn't be able to keep
her down too long. He decided to level with her, while he could. Might
as well, seeing how after tonight he probably wouldn't be seeing her
again.

'1hey threw around some lead-at me and the stag," he said. "I
Clipped one of them, but they got away before I could do any real
damage."

Ali regarded him a little wide-eyed. "You were . . . were you
trying to kill them?"

"Guns aren't toys, Ali, and what happened tonight wasn't a game.
If you pull a piece, you'd better be ready to use it. And if you use it,
you'd damn well better kill whatever you're shooting at, Or it'll up and
get you." The rules of the business, courtesy of Mano Papale, Valenti
thought mirthlessly.

"Yeah, but. . ."

"Remember I told you I was a soldier?"

Ali nodded.

"\Vell, that army I was in, they weren't too happy with me when I
left. They put a contract out olrme that fell through-but only
because I disappeared. Now this Ernie Shaw, he used to_ n

"Oh, jeez."

"\Vhat is it?" '

'7hat was my father's name," Ali said. "But not Ernie. It was
Eerl.~,

"œarl," Valenti repeated. Yeah. That fit.

"So he is my father."

Vi~lenti nodded. "Anyway. This guy recognized me and he'sgoing
to be passing the information about whene I ~ over to the

GREENMAN~

95

people I used to work for, see? And that means they're going to be
gunning for me again."

"Tony, what kind of army were you in?"

For all that he'd told her, for all that at this point it didn't matter
anymore, his own vow of omerta-the law of silence- wouldn't let
him come right out and say it.

"Look it doesn't matter," he said. "It was a family business
-that's ail. The thing is, they'll be coming for me. That's why I was
shooting at Shawl Because now that he got away, I've got to hit the
road, too."

"But. . ."

~:

.l

.l

'l'

"I can't stay, Ali. I'm a dead man if I stay."

She pegarded him for a loDg moment. "You know what this
sounds like, don't you?" she asked.

"Like what7"

"The makings of a B-movie. All we need now is for limmy C~ney
to come walking in your front door."

"It's no joke, Ali."

"I know. I'm not smiling. Can you call the police, Tony?"

He shook his head.

"You were a criminal, weren't youT' When he didn't answer, she
shrugged. "Okay. It doesn't matter. It's what you are now that's
important, right? So you can't run, Tony."

"Are you nuts? If I stay-"
"If you go, where do you got'

"I'll malce out."

She shook her head. "Tony, I may be just a kid, but I }now that
nobody can live that way-always on the run. Remember what you
just told me? If you want something bad enough, nobody can stop
you7'

"Yeah, but it'll be rne against a lot of guns."

"So get some help."

Valenti couldn't believe what he was hearing. Here he'd boen
trying to comfort her and shc turned things around and was giving him
the advice. And maybe she was an innocent, but there was
something to what she was saying.

"You sure you're not some forty-year-old midget with a
faceliftT' he asked.

'~Whatr
"You're some kid, you know thatT'

Ali looked away, blushing.

"No, I ~eally mean it. There's not many peopb could go

a96 Charles de Lint

through all that you've been through today and come up
smiling."

They were quiet for a long moment, then Ali regarded him
seriously.

"Tony," she said. "That stag . . . it was like it was rescuing
me."

"I know."

"It's got something to do with the music.

"I think so."

'~ony, what is itT'

Valenti shook his head wearily. "I don't know, Ali. I wish I
did, but I just can't figure it."

An hour or so later, Valenti had tucked Ali into the bed in
his guest room and was sitting in the living room, staring at the
phone. Ali had started out protesting that she wasn't tired, but
by the time he'd walked her up to the room, she was yawning
so much that she gave in. He sat with her until she fell asleep,
then softly bft the room.

Downstairs, the first thing he did was get out his weapons.
He checked to make sure they were all loaded and in good
working order, then stashed them in strategic places around the
house. He'd made plans for this kind of thing before. He'd
always planned to run if trouble came, but it was best to cover
every contingency. He hid the weapons in places he could
easily get at, but where people wouldn't be liable to run across
them unless they were looking for them. Then he sat down to
stare at the phone.

He sat there for a long time, going over the day, from the
piping and the stag and Ali's horned girl, who he might have
met himself the other night, to Earl Sha~v and the trouble he
could bring down on Valenti with just one phone call.

"Fercrissakes," he said softly. "Make the call already."

He lifted the receiver and dialed a memorized number, then
waited until the connection was made and the phone rang at
the other end of the line, halfway across the world.

"Pronto!" a familiar voice said after the sixth ring. "Chl va
la?" Who's there?

"Hey, Mario. Come te la sei passata?" How've you been?

There was a moment's pause, then, "My line's clean-are
we using names?"

"It's Tony, Mario."

"Yeah, J'm hcarinl' thst. You got troubkT'

GREENMAN~

~_
.

l!

l
,

:

:

:

:

L

97

"I'm making a stand."

"You're one crazy bastardo-you know what I'm sayingT'

"I got made-but I don't want to run."

"Okay," Mario said. "I know better than to argue with you
by now. What do you need?"

"A coupk of unconnected men. Bread's no problem, but I
got to be able to trust them. And I don't want to see your face
over here, capito?"

" 'Ey, you're a good friend, Tony, but I'm not crazy."

"That's good."

"When do you need 'em?" Mario asked.

"Yesterday."

"So you want some local talentT'

"You got somebody here?" Valenti replied.

"Depends where 'here' is."

Valenti told him, keeping the directions simple.

"I've got a friend in Toronto," Mario said. "He'll be with you
by morning. He'll be driving a white Mazda-two door. The
other friend's gonna need some papers-so figure late
Monday, your time. Say, Tony, you want I should talk to the
family, maybe the consigliere?"

"Not much he can do," Valenti replied. "Besides, I've figured
it was Ricca put the finger on me-him and Joe. I mean, who
elseT'

"So? A little talk don't hurt."

"Okay," Valenti said. "But you be careful, Mario."

"No problem. Coraggio, Tony."

"Grazie, Mario."

The connection went dead and Valenti cradled the receiver.
He was committed now-too late to run. He stood up and killed
the lights when he heard a car in the driveway. Automatic in
hand, he eased open a curtain by the front door, then saw it
was just Ali's momma. Hc thrust the .32 back into his pocket
and flicked on tho porch light before going out to ask Frankie
in for a nightcap.

"Oh, I don't think so," Frankie said. "I'm pretty tired and it's .
. . it's not been a good day."

Christ, she was some fine-looking woman, Valenti thought.
There was really something going on insidk her, too. That was
something he never would have noticed if he'd still been in New
York, working for the family. What she had was a kind of
sensibility that reminded him of the artwork and crafts he'd
gotten into collecting after he'd moved up here for good. Hc
wished he didn't have to lay this shit on her.

98

Ch~ de L"

"I think you'd better come in," he said. "You soe, your exhusband
went after Ali tonight and I figure he's stiD in the ;uea,
so it wouldn~t be such a good idea for you to go home right
away."

"Earl ... T' Frankie's face blanched. "Ali. Is she ....?"

"AIi's doing great. She came through it like a trooper."

Frankie slumped against the side of the car. "Thank God for
that. It's my worst fear. Sometimes I wake up in the night, you
know, and 1...1 think she's going to be gone...." She shivered,
then looked up at Valenti. `.He was really here? My exT'

Valentj nodded. " 'Fraid so. He was down by your place and
chased Ali up the road. Luckily I was coming down to meet her,
so I scared him off, but he might be planning to come back. You
could call the police, I suppose, but by the time you convince
them that there really is a danger, well . . ." He shrugged.

"I suppose you're right...."

Valenti went down and closed the car door, then took Fran
lrie's arm and led her back to the house. Busy night, he thought.
It looked like he'd be sleeping on the couch. He just hoped hc
wasn't leading them into more danger by having them stay over.
StiD, it was just for one night. In the morning he hoped to convince
them to take a little trip for a week or so until this all blew
over one way or another. They didn't have to go too far to be
safe. Australia should be far enough.

"Where's AliT' Franliie asked as she looked around the living
room.

"She s asleep jD the guest room. You can have my room for

"No. Wc can't impose like this."

"You're not imposing," Valenti said. "I'm happy to have tbe
chawc to do you this favor, Franlcie."

She loolced at him, her eyes tired, her face showing the strain
of her day and now this. But she wasn't giving ID, Valenti saw.
He Icnew which of her parents Ali took after, that was for sure.
He resisted a sudden urge to take her in his arms. C hrist, what
was he thinking?

"Have a seat," he said. "Would you lilce a drink.?"

~kie shook her head. "Maybe some tea.?"

For the second time that night he was ID his }itchen with a
female member of the Treasure family.

"Can I help at allT' Frankie aslced after she'd foDowed him in.

GREENMAN1tE

99

Valenti smiled. "Sure. Tea's in the cupboard on the right there
-second shelf up, beside the cocoa."

"Cocoar'

Hcaring a certain tone in her voice, Valenti put the kettle
down and went to the fridge for some rn;lk instead. Looked like
both Treasures were chocolase junkies.

A hatf hour and a mug of cocoa later, Valenti showed Frankie
to his bedroom and left her there while he went baclc downst~rs.
He sat in front of the dying fire, trying to put it all jD perspective.

The immediate worry was Shaw, how soon he'd call ID, how
soon Ricca would send in his soldati. But there was still the
strangeness to deal with. The wild girl that both he and Ali had
seen now. The music. The stag. There was something happening
~vith all that as well. How much trouble it was going to be,
Valenti had no way of knowing. He just had a feeling that the real
sbangeness hadn't even started yet.

Aftcr awhile he lay down on the couch, not sleeping, just
Iying there with his hands behind his head, thinking, waiting now
for either Shaw or Ricca's men to show up, or the help that Mario
had promised him. He couldn't afford to sleep.

A little later hc got up and put Ali's cassette on the stereo, so
low that the sound of it wouldn't bother Ali or her momma. The
music relaxed him. He lay there thinking of Frankie, wondering
how things might have turned out if it had been him instead of
Shaw that had gotten together with her all those years ago.

Trouble was, he wouldn't have been any better for her than
Shaw had been. Not that he was into hurting women or anything,
but both he and Shaw were in the business, and thc business
tended to get in the way of any kind of a relationship with someone
who wasn't in it. Even when you tried to get out it. alrist,
loolc at him now-two years retired, and here it was all happening
again.

By the time the cassene had ended, he had a bitters~veet feeling
inside, but he was alert and ready for whatever might come.
When the cassette machine clicked off, he made a tour around the
outside of the house. Except for the bugs, no~ing was stirring,
so he went back inside arid made himself a capuccino. Smdying
the boolcs that Ali had brought up, he chose one, the Guidc ~o
Neturc Obscrvaiion and Tracdang, and started to read.

'~1

~:

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The stag ranged far that night. Originally sent from Wold Hill by
the spell of Tommy's piping, something in its encounter with Ali
and Valenti, Earl Shaw and Howie Peale, caused it to run further
afield than ever before. It wandered Lanark County like an autumn
wind, through backfields and up into farmyards where dogs
woke from dreams of hunting to bark at its passing like a ghost
wind; along Highway 1, up through Hopetown and across the
Clyde River, looping back to cross Highway 16 at Middleville;
through the marshland between Gillies and Ramsbonoms Lakes,
crossing the Clyde again to clatter through Lanark village, before
completing its sweep back up toward Snake Lake Mountain.

Where it passed sleepers, dreams were suddenly filled with
resonances never sensed before, while those who were awake,
paused in their conversations for that one moment it took for the
stag to go by, resuming them again then, knowing they weren't
quite the same, but not knowing why. The stag was unconcerned
with either dreamers or those still awake, for it was following its
own need through the night, chasing down the moon. There were
few that didn't sense its presence in the night, but fewer still
actually caught a glimpse of it-the branch-spread of its antlers
briefly outlined against the sky, perhaps, or the white flag of its tail.
Nothing more.

It wasn't until it was closing in on Wold Hill once more that it
heard the sound of the pack, keeninll in the night air. They were
distant, black shapes that were no more than shadows, running on
silent pads, tracking it. And if sometimes they looked like
hooded monks, like men running upright behind it, sometimes
the stag itself seemed to be' a man, too, running on cloven
hooves, the stag's antlers shrunken to goat's horns, dirt-brown
skin gleanung and sweaty in the starlight.

Two figures stood up from where they'd been sitting under the
shadow of the gray-blue stone on Wold Hill. They looked southward.

100

GREENMA~E

"He's coming back now," Mally said.

Lewis nodded. "The dogs are right on his tail."

"They won't catch him-not this time."

"But they Willr, Lewis asked, making a question out of what
could as easily have been a statement.

"Not if you don't let them."

"I've talked to Tommy-but I told you he wouldn't listen to
me."

Mally nodded. "You'd better go now, Lewis. I'll sce you
Iater."

He looked at her, trying to read the expression on that fox-thin
face, but the brim of the hat made a deeper shadow of what the
night already hid from him.

"Scc you then," he said and hurried, as much as his old body
could, out of the little glen and down to his cabin.

Mally watched him go, then fumed to look at the southem end
of thc clearing. A man came running out from the trees-half~
oat, half-man, then more stag than goat, then fully stag. Mally
puckered her lips and whistled softly.

"Come now," she said.

The stag paused before soft-stepping its way across the grass
to where she could lay her hand on its nank. She patted its wet
coat, mummuring all the while.

"It's not belief that binds you here," she said, "nor disbelief
-no matter what all their scholars say. It's just reason-all those

straight lines that they lay on the land and in their minds...."
The stag nuzzled her shoulder. "You'd better go now-they're
close. Too close."

She slapped it on its rump and it sprang toward the stone. The
shadows were thick there. It might have disappeared inside the
stone, or changed its course at the last moment and dodged
around it, but by the time its pursuers bounded into the glen, thc
stag was gone without leaving a sign. Mally met the houndshaped
shadows, arms akimbo.

"Too late agaun," she said softly.

Thie lead shape moved forward and shc doffed her hat, reachhg
inside. When she brought out her hand, it was full of light-
tiny sticks of light, the size of small bones or twigs. Thc lead
shape paused, then they all scattered as she flung the light in an
arc toward them.

Where the sticks touched their shapes, they hissed and burned,
but most came nowhere near their targets as the shapes fled. In
moments, the glen was empty again, except for Mally. She stuck

101

102

her hat back on her head, tapped a pair of fingers against its brim
in a salute to the standing stone, then slipped in among the trees
on the side of the clearing that was closest to Lewis's cabin.

alarles de Lint

The Toyota's engine had developed a knocking noise by the
time Earl turned onto the dirt road that led to his friend's cottage
on the southeast shore of Calabogie Lake. The car rattled along in
the ruts, trees scraping its sides for at least half a mile, before the
square glow of a lighted window appeared ahead of them. Earl
steered the Toyota in beside a Dodge van and a Honda Civic,
then cut the engine. Going around to the passenger's side, he
opened the door and hauled Howie to his feet.

"Oh, Jesus!" Howie cried.

"Take it easy, man. We're here now."

Supporting the smaller man, Earl helped him to the cottage
door. An old Charlie Daniels LP was playing at full blast, so Earl
didn't bother knocking. Keeping one hand close to the weapon
stuck in his belt, he opened the door, then half-carried Howie
inside.

The cottage was almost all one room with a couple of doors
leading off on the far side to smaller bedrooms and the can.
Sining on floor pillows and a beat-up couch were two men and
three women. They all looked up when the door opened. The
cOnage was warm with a good-sized fire in the hearth. The smell
of marijuana was strong in the air. One of the men reached ova
to the stereo and took the needle off the record, dragging it across
the grooves.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, coming to his feet.

Earl left Howie propped up against the door. "Steve," he ssid.
"How's it hangingT'

The man who was standing peered closer, then a broad grin
cut across his features. "Hey, hey, hey! Fercrissakes, Earl.
What're you doing up here?"

"Looking for a party-what do you think, Steve?"

Steve Hill nodded in appreciation-there wasn't a beiter reason
to be doing anything. He was a tall thin man, wearing a faded
Grateful Dead T-shirt and cut-off jeans. He didn't bother intro~
ducing his friends.

The other man looked like a biker-long black hair pulled
back in a ponytail, a silver swastika hanging from one earlobe.
He was wearing cowboy boots, greasy jeans, and a plain white
T-shirt with the arms torn off. The three women seemed all of a
kind-one blonde, two brunenes, but all three were sleepy-eyed

GREENMANTLE

:^

103

and stoned. One of the brunettes was only wearing a pair of
bikini briefs. The other two women wore shorts and halters.

"You want a toke?" Steve asked, offering Earl a joint.

"Thanks." Earl took a long drag, then held the joint up to
Howie's lips. "We had us a lime . . . hunting accident," he said as
he handed the joint back. "You got a first-aid kit, manT'

"Hey, we got a fucking nurse here tonight." He nodded to the
women and the topless brunene looked up. "See what you can do
for the man, Sherry."

Unselfconsciously, Sherry stood up and approached Howie.
She took in the amount of blood that his shirt had soaked up, then
crooked her finger at him. "Let's go to the can," she said.
"What's your name, tigerT'

Even through his pain, Howie had trouble keeping his gaze
from her breasts. He glanced at Earl.

"Go on," Earl said. He waited until Sherry led Howie away,
then looked back at Steve. "You got a phone in yet?"

Steve shook his head. "I come here to get away, man. What's
upT'

"I got some serious business that can't wait."

Steve glanced at the butt of the gun sticking up from the belt
and thought for a long stoned moment about Howie's shoulder.
"You need reinforcements or something?" he asked finally.

"No. But I got to make a call to a certain man-the sooner the
better, if you catch my drift."

"Where's the call going?'?

"I'll malce it collect."

"Hey, Lisa," Earl said. The blonde looked up. "You want to
take my friend here up to your place so he can use your phone?"

Lisa's gaze ranged up from Earl's shoes to his face. "Sure."

"Wait a minute," the other man said. "You're with me toni-"

"Coo} it, Max-okay?" Steve grinned at the bigger man and
tossed him a small glass vial. "This is strictly a phone call, nothing
else. Right, Earl?"

"You got it."

Steve nodded. "So check out the nosecandy, Max. Talk to
Pam here and Lisa'll be back quicker 'n she can shake her ass."

Lisa sauntered over to the door where she put on a jacket and
a pair of leather thongs. "Have you got wheels?" she asked when
Earl and Steve joined her outside.

"Not so's you'd notice. We drove up in the Toyota-h's on its
last legs and it's hot."

"Steve?" Lisa asked.

104 Charles de Llnt       lt                   G ~1-

Steve tossed her a set of car keys. "Take the Honda." Then ~n      '^

Earl: 'You bringing anything down on us?"
Earl shook his head

"Anything in it for me? Can you use a couple more bodiesT'
"I'll know more after I make this call."

Steve griMed. "All right. I owe you one anyway."

"I know," Earl said.

The smile faded on Steve's face, but Earl didn't notice. He'd
already turned to follow Lisa to the car. Steve waited until the
Honda's taillights were out of sight before going back inside.
Maybe he could get some information from the guy Earl had left
behind. Sherry was coming out of the washroom as he stepped
~nside.

"How is heT' Steve asked.

"He'll live. The bullet went through muscle tissue-missod
the bone. He should go to the hospital for stitches, though."

"l've got a needle and thread."

"Gimme a break, Steve. That's not the kind of-"   ~ .
"No hospital, Sherry. Too many quest~ons-understand?"  ~,:

"Yeah. Sure." She didn't look happy about it.

"So you gonna sew him up?"

"Here, Sherry!" Max called and tossed her the glass vial of
cocaine. "Maybe thistll steady your nerve." He and Pam
laughed.

Steve took her arm and steered her back to the washroom.
"I'll give you a hand," he said.

After leaving Mally by the stone, Lewis made his way bome
where he sat in the dark for a long while before finally lighting a
lamp. He went to the bookshelves and walked slowly around,
reading the titles. Yeat's Trembling rJf tl~e Veil stood alongside
theosophist classics like Annie Besant's The Ancient Wisdom and
Mundy's I Se`: Sunrise. There were books by Madame Blavatsky
Raymond Buckland, Israel Regardie, Itobert Graves, T.C. Lethbridge,
Eliphas Levi. W.B. Crow and Charles Williams. There
were some contemporary writers represented as well, such- as
Colin Wilson and E.S. Howes.

The subjects ranged from Fiji firewalkers to the Order of the
Golden Dawn, Freemasonry to the Rosicrucians, lung to spiritualism.
All of the mysteries were represented, but it was up to the
reader to discover which out of those thousands of volumes, held
a kernel of truth, and which were out-and-out quackeries.

Lewis stopped in front of the shelf that held Aleister Crow

ky's books. He thought of the stag and its mystery and tried to
compare its wonder with Crowley's poor showing. "Do what
thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law." That was the fundamental
assertion of the self-confessed Beast. He had borrowed it
by way of Rabelais and William Blake, but given it a new resonance,
a Nietzschean morality. Only the strong should survive.
Wasn't this nature's way? The natural way?

Lewis sighed. He took down a volume by Ackerly Perkin and
brought it over to the table where he sat down, the book Iying
unopened before him.

Perkin had been a contemporary of Crowley's-the onginsl
owner, in fact, of much of this library. It was he who had first
caused a shadow to fall on the stag, on the piping, on the rites
that bound the two to New Wolding.

"Man needs illusion," this particular volume of Perkin's journals
opened with, "for without his illusions, man is nothing. The
strength of your illusions is dependent upon the strength of your
will. The stronger your will, the more you will rule, for other
men will always flock to him whose illusions are the most potent."

It was a circumspect approach to Crowley's assertions, but
where the Beast had gone on to the magical uses of sex and the
use of drugs like mescaline, Perkin withdrew from the world,
seeking his illusions in microcosm, rather than the world at large.
What he found merely intensified his belief in the need for illusion.

When he became aware of the piping and the stone, of the
rites and the dancing and what they were calling to, he used what
influence he had to evoke his own illusions to counteract the one
he believed the villagers upheld. For while he would allow all
men their illusions, he would not allow those illusions to manifest
themselves in this world. Such a thing should not be possible. lf,
however, such a thing wa, somehow possible, then he was determined
that the only illusions that would be manifested would be
his own.

When Lewis tried to find out why Perkin would have done
this, the only reason the journals gave him was that Perkin did
what he did simply because he could. Because he believed it all
to be illusion.

"Which is more illusory?" he asked in one entry. "Illusions
built upon belief, or those built with reasoned disbelief?" Around
this point the journals ended and Perkin returned to the wandering

106

life he'd known before moving to Lanark County, leaving the
library in his old house.

Mally had first appeared around this time and it was she who
had helped a younger Lewis transfer all those books to his cabin
in New Wolding .`The dark man won't be back for them," she
told Lewis. "He's found his god in war now. He thinks it to be a
reasoned exercise, or the greatest of all illusions, but whichever
he decides it is, he won't be back."

Lewis often wished that he had never read any of Perkin's
boolts-especially those that Perkin had written himself. Before
them, Lewis had been a simple man, content with what he had.
But when Vera died and Edmond fled, the books were all he had
left to sustain him. They filled the emptiness inside him with
questions until sometimes he no longer wanted the answers.

He longed then to return to the simple belief that he'd once
shared with the other villagers but it was far too late for that.
Just as it was too late for the village to survive. There were only
four of them under the age of twenty now. The old folk had died;
the younger ones gone, out into the outside world seeking...
illusions, he supposed.

When he had asked his own son why he was leaving, Edmond
had replied, "There's nothing for me here." Lewis hadn't had an
answer for that then. He didn't have one now.

Lewis flipped through the pages of the book, then let it close
with a thump. If the hounds that chased the stag were Perkin's
creations, if they were his illusions, then why were they still
here, fifty years after Perkin had left?

Lewis was afraid of the answer to that question. He was afraid
that by taking Perkin's books, by following the hundreds of
threads that ran through them, the wisdoms along with the foolishness,
that it was he himself who was now sustaining the
hounds. That they crept out of the ~la~kness of his own soul to
chase the stag. For was that not what all the writers of these
books sought? Not the mystery itself, but some method to hold it,
to control and measure it, to dissect it to see what made it tick.
He'd asked Mally about it once, knowing that his own search
made him no better than those writers.

"You're not alone in what you do," she'd replied, as though
confirming his worst fear.

"Then I am responsible?"

"How should I know, Lewis?"

"Did I make you? Are you one of my illusions? Or should I
say delusions7'

Charles de L~nt

GREB4M - 1~

"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters!" he'd cried. "What are you?"
"I'm a secret, Lewis," she said. "That's all."
And that was no comfort at all.

107

"Tbis is a nice place," Earl said as Lisa led him iato the
cottage and flicked on a light. "You had it long?"

"It belongs to my parents."

"Are they around7' His hand drifted towards the butt of his
.38.

"No. They're in Europe."

Earl nodded. "So where's the phone7'

"In the bedroom-through there." She indicated a door, then
drifted into the room after him. "So are you one of these tough
guys that Steve uses on his jobs7'

Earl turned to her and laughed. "Steve's told you he pulb

jobs7'

Lisa nodded. "Sure. Where do you think he gets all his
bread7'

"I'll tell you where. Steve's got himself a dead-end job in the
government and the only way he makes do is by selling dope to
the people he works with."

"That's not what he told me."

Earl shrugged. "I don't care what he told you. He's ~ asshob,
plain and simple."

"Well, then how'd you get to know him?"

"Even assholes come in handy sometimes. You ever by to
talce a shit through your nose?"

Usa pulled a face.

"This is a private call," Earl told her.

For a moment it looked like she was going to say something,
but then her gaze met his and a weak smile touched her lips.
"Sure," she said. "No problem. I'll wait out there on the couch."

Earl waited until the door closed behind her, then picked up
the receiver and placed his call. Collect.

"I'll take it," the voice on the other end said when the operator
explained the nature of the call. Then to Earl, "This better be
good. You know what time it is? you got a clean line?"

"Yeah. This won't take long, foe. Think of it as me doing you
a favor."

"I'm listening," Broadway Joe said.

'4Tony Valenti."

"What about him?"

~w

~ar'~ ue "n.

"Are you still looking for him?"

"What kinda game you playing, Shawr

Earl leaned back, stretching his legs out on the bed. "No
game. I can give you Valenti, but you've got to move fast.
"
Gimme me your number," Broadway Joe said. "I'll call you
back in twenty or so."

Earl read off the number from the phone and smiled as he
hung up. "Hey, Lisa!" he called. When she opened the door, he
patted the bed. "We've got twenty minutes to lcill before I get a
return on my call. You want to get it onT'

Lisa stared at him for a long moment. "You've got some
nerve, you know that?"

"I got more 'n' that if you look in the'right place, babe."

"I'll bet you do." She studied him for another moment, then
reached up behind her back to undo the clasp of her halter, freeing
her breasts. "I must be crazy," she said as she stepped out of
her shorts and got onto the bed beside him. "I don't even Icnow

you."

"I bet you say that to all the guys," Earl said as hc grabbed her
and pulled her in close.

Lisa just laughed.

Broadway loe Fucceri hung up and looked across his deslc to
where his boss was Iying stretched out on a leather couch. Ricca
Magaddino had one hand behind his head, a cigarene in the
other. He was a lean, dark-haired man, handsome with a Mediterranean
cast to his complexion. He took a drag on his cigarette,
blew a wreath of blue smoke up to the ceiling, theu looked at
Broadway Joe.

"So who was that?"

'1hat little punk Earl Shaw-the one with the coke deal."

"Oh' yeah. What's he want?"

Broadway Joe leaned back in his chair to put his feet up. He
was in his late fifties now, ten year' older than Ricca. His hair
was going silver at the temples.

"Straw says he can finger Valenti for us."

Ricca sat up and put his feet on the floor. "Do we still want
him?"

"You, me, and Louie-that's all who know what really went
down," Broadway loe said. "Tony's not gonna talk. Shit, who's
he gonna talk to? First cousin that sees him's gonna blow him
away."

"You still got some feeling for hirn, hey, loe?"

:-:
.,

.]

Broadway Joe shrugged. "You're the boss, Ricca. You know
that. The old padrone, he wasn't changing with the times. But
Tony{:hrist, he was always so fucking loyal, you know what
I'm saying? It's hard to get dedication like that now. I mean, so
far's Tony saw it, the family was his career."

Ricca nodded. "Yeah. I know all that. But I think maybe we
should send Louie out to see what Shaw's got. I never did like
loose ends, capito?"

"Too bad we can't just use Shaw " Broadway Joe said.

Ricca regarded his consigliere. 'Why not?" he asked. "I like

that-keeps us right out of it."

"He's crazy," Broadway Joe said. "We used him once in that
Miami deal your old man was running through Tony, and we're
using him now for the coke thing, but I don't want us involved
with his kind of killing. He does it for fun, Ricca. And he does it
messy. If we were to get fingered, just saying he got busted-"

"Nothing can hold up in court," Ricca protested. "I mean, he's
not even one of our own people."

"But say the story gets loose how the padrone really died? Say
Tony says something and Shaw repeats it? The families wouldn't
like that. If we still want Tony, we'll send my boy. That way
we'll know what's going down. And besides, Louie's still hurting
from that Malta deal, you know?"

Ricca grinned. "Hey, there's a reason you're still consigliere,
foe. You handle this shit, okay? Any way you think is best."

"I'll set up a meet between Shaw and Louie," Broadway Joe
said. He pulled the phone closer and direct-dialed the number
he'd gotten from Earl.

He was running, the hounds so close now he could hear the
click of their claws on the asphalt. He turned to look baclc at
them, wanting to stand and fight, antlers sweeping down, hooves
flashing, but he knew there were too many of them. He could
run, and that was all he could do. Run, with his heart pounding in
his chest. Run, until his leg muscles ached too much to take him
any further. Run, with the burning in his tissues and the sound of
the dogs' cries ringing in his ears until he fell.

His flanks were streaked with sweat. Froth foamed around his
mouth. The highway snaked on, deeper into the countryside.
Then suddenly he stumbled. The asphalt tore at his skin. The
dogs were on him in a flash, teeth ripping at his skin as he flailed
his hooves. But it was too late. One dog, bigger than the otbas,
sank its teeth into his tbroat and he-

110

Ch~es de Lh*

-~voke screaming.

Hc sat bolt upright in his bed. Brenda fumbled with the Ught
switch beside her.

"Lance are you-"

"Fine,' he said, swinging his feet to the floor. His pajamas
clung damply to his back and chest. "I'm fine. No problem."
Except those fucking dogs had gotten him this time.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got a little unfinished business outside," Lance said. He
~hoved his feet into his workboots and went to the closet whem
he pulled out his shotgun. He cracked it open, checked its load.
Empty. Opening the top drawer of the dresser, he pushed around
his socks and underwear~until he found the box of shells. He
loaded the gun quickly, snapped it shut.

"Lance, what are you doing?"

He turned to look at her and she froze back against the head~
board. His eyes were seeing more than just her and the bedroom.

"Lance . . .?" she said softly.

He looked away, still hearing the howls of the pack, and went
downstairs, boots clattering. Brenda stayed in bed, clutching the
sheets with whitening knuckles. She heard the backdoor slam
shut, imagined Lance's boots scuffling in the dirt around back.
Then she buried her face in the pillow, scared again. She was
always scared now, it seemed~

Lance walked slowly over to where Doolrer lay sleeping. The
Gennan shepherd woke as Lance drew near and made a questioning
sound in its throat. Lance only heard claws clicking on pavement,
the howl of a pack hunting. He liRed the shotgun, the ends
of the barrels just inches from Dooker's head, and pulled both
triggers.

The roar of the shotgun's double blast shook him from his
trancelike state. He looked at the weapon in his hands, at what
was bht of Dooker, and the tears stattd in his eyes. He threw the
shotgun aside and cradled the bloody mess of the dog against
him.

"Crazy," he sobbed. "lesus . . . going crazy. . . Oh, DooJ`. I'm
so sorry...."

He bowed his head, sobs shaking him. That was the way that
Brenda found him when she finally dared go outside. For a long
moment she stood there by the baclc door, staring at him, afraid to
move or call attention to herself. Then slowly she crossed over to
where he was and laid a hand on his shoulder.

GREENMANILE

.

:~

~,

111

"C-come on, Lance," she said. "You'd better. . . better come
h now."

He shook his head. "Got to. . . got to dig a hole for ol'
Dooker, Boo. It's ...1 got to do it...."

Brenda nodded. "I'll get the shovel," she said.

She left him there and went to the shed to Bet the tool, wondering
just what she was going to do with Lance. He was definitely
getting scary now. But he was still Lance, too. He needed
help. She had to get him to go see the doc again, get him to
recommend a psychiatrist-that was all there was to it.

As she returned to his side with ~he shovel, as she stood over
him and poor dead Dooker, she realized that that was what she
was going to have to do. Lance needed help and he sure wasn't
going to look for it himself.

Please, Lord, she thought. Let me be strong. Let me be strong
enough for both of us.

l:~

:~:

:
~:

;

~'

Part Two:
THE HUNTSMAN'S GUILE

lady, accept these words
I have lost the huntsman's guile
following that which is lost....

-Robin Williamson,
from "Song of Mabon"

The woods of Arcady are dead,
And ouer is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreamingfed;
Gray truth is now her painted toy....
-W.B. Yeats, from
"The Song of the
}lappy Shepherd"

r

.

~:

. ~

.

ù ..)

. .
.
.~.

. :Y,

:. .
;~:

~:

;

.

CHAPTER ONE

The sun had been up for a couple of hours and it was gening on
to six-fifteen when Valenti heard the sound of an engine coming
up his road. He'd been listening for it. Laying down his book, he
went into the kitchen area where he got the UZI submachine gun
from thc small broom closet where he'd hidden it. He slipped out
the back door.

He circled around behind tbe house and barn, moving quickly
through the woods toward the front of his property. By the tin e
the white Mazda had pulled into his drive, Valenti was approaching
the vehicle from the road. He ducked behind the hedge as the
Mazda's door opened.

A lean, wiry-looking man got out of the car and stretched, his
anention on the house. He was dressed for the country in jeans,
hiking boots and a light cotton shin, with a dark blue windbreaker
overtop. Running a hand through his short blonde hair,
he turned to give the yard and road a quick lookover before starting
for the house. By the time he reached the porch, Valenti had
left the hedge and moved in closer. He stood up behind the man's
car, the UZI held down out of the man's view.

"How's it going?" he called softly.

The man turned, quicker than Valenti had expected, and took
a smooth step to the side of the porch where hc was half-screened
by a cedar. His gaze locked on Valenti, one hand moving under
his windbreaker, until Valenti lifted the UZI. The man let his
hand drop.

"I think you're expecting me," he said.

"Could be." Valenti came around the car, holding the UZI ia
both hands now, his finger taking up the slack against its trigger.
"Where're you from?"

"T.O. Listen. I can understand your-"

"How'd you find the place?"

"A friend in Malta sent me.
"
Oh, yeah? So how is Tony?"

115

116

Charles de Lint

A brief smile touched the man's lips. "You're Tony. Mario
sent me."

"Okay," Valenti said. "Maybe I am." He lowered the W.
"You had breakfast yet?"

"I stopped at a truckstop an hour or so ago. I could use a  )

coffee, though."

"You got it."

"Do you want to fill me in on the situation?"

Valenti nodded. "Sure. Let's go inside. One thing, though." ~
"What's that?" -t

"I've got a couple of civilians inside-an upfront lady and her
kid. I'd appreciate it if we didn't talk too loose in front of them."

"No problem. I'm Tom Bannon," he added, holding out bis
hand as Valenti mounted the steps.

Valenti took the hand. '~hanks for coming."

"You can't be sure he made you, then?" Bannon asked as
Valenti finished sketching out the problem for him. The UZI was
back in its hiding place and they were sitting at the kitchen table,
the coffee pot on a warming plate between them, each with a
half-drunk coffee at hand. Valenti had kept the story simple.
Things were going to get weird enough without his bringing up
the business with the stag and Ali's wild girl.

"Oh, he made me all right," Valenti replied. "The thing is,
what's he going to do with the information? To tell you the truth,
I was expecting some trouble by now, but maybe he hasn't got
the word out yet."

"Maybe he's sitting on it."

"What for?"

Bannon shrugged. "Christ, who knows? There's some talk on
the street about him-he's supposed to have some big deal going
down. Maybe he can't afford to get mixed up in family businesc
right now."

"I don't think so," Valenti said. "Him and me-we never hit
it off, you know what I mean?"

"With what I know about Shaw, I'm not surprised. He's got to
be the main man in the deal or he gets antsy."

Valenti nodded. "That's the feeling he gave me."

"So how do you want to play this?" Bannon asked. "Are we
going to wait them out, or do we take it to them?"

"Wait them out for now. I wouldn't know where to start loak

GREEN5tA~E

.

..

. .

~:

::

?.

,'..

} ~

:

i, ?

117

ing for-" Valenti broke off as he heard a door open and close
upstairs.

"Who'm I supposed to be?" Bannon asked in a whisper.

"Friend. Up for the week on holiday."

"Okay. Anything else I should know.?"

Valenti shook his head. "Hey, Ali," he said as he saw her
coming down the stairs. "C'mon in here. I got a friend I want you
to meet."

Ali woke from a dream in which she was mediating an argument
between Tony, the stag and Earl Shaw as to which of them
was her real father. The stag had a man's body in the dream and
was wearing denims and a T-shirt that said "Have you hugged
your child today?"

Coming out of that dream in a strange bedroom, it took her a
few moments to figure out just where she was and why. She sat
up abruptly, her chest tighting with sudden fear. Her mother. . .

She got up and dressed, then padded out of the guestroom.
She peered down the stairwell, but the house felt empty. Had her
mother even arrived last night? Or had Earl Shaw caught her on
her way home and . . . and . . .

She couldn't finish the thought. Stepping quickly to Tony's
bedroom, she cracked the door open. She'd ask Tony because
Tony'd know. He wouldn't have gone to sleep without making
sure Mom was okay. When she saw her mother asleep on Tony's
bed, a breath she hadn't been aware of holding left her in a long
sigh. She hurried across the room and knelt by the bed, pufflng an
arm around her mother. If anything had happened to her. . .

The sound of a car's engine came to her, the engine dying,
then the slam of a car door. Ali tensed again. Too scared to move,
she pressed herself closer against Tony's bed, holding her mother.
Frankie moved in her sleep but didn't wake. Ali heard Tony's and
another man's voice drift up from downstairs. Relief loosened
tense muscles once more.

She gave her mother a kiss, then went back out into the hall.
She opened and closed the door to the guest room, loud enough
so that Tony would know she was awake, then headed down the
stairs.

Tony introduced her to his friend while she poured herself a
coffee. She added lots of milk and a couple of spoons of sugar,
then sat down at the table with the two men.

118

Ch~ de L"

"Tony," she began hesitantly, shooting Bannon 8 quick glanoe.
"Did you talk to my mom last night?"

Tony nodded.

"How is skier

"Not so good. But we talked a bit and I think she was feeling
better by the time she went to bed. She had a rough day so maybe
we should let her sleep for a bit longer." He paused, then added'
"How are you, Ali?"

Ali thought about last night, about what would have happened
to her if Tony hadn't shown up.... It didn't make for pleasant
thinking. Given her druthers for a father, she'd take Tony over
Earl Shaw any day. And the stag? she wondered as the d~eao
flashed momentarily before her eyes.

"Ali7'

She looked up. "It's really scary, Tony. Why can't he just
leave us alone?"

"Some guys. . ." Tony began, then he sighed. "I don't knowj
Ali. The money your momma's got left after rebuilding that
house... That's a lot of money we're talking about. Some
guys'll do anything for money, step on anyone."

Ali nodded glumly. She toyed with her coffee cup, wishing
she knew more about who Tom Bannon was so that she'd know
what they could and couldn't talk about.

"Tony tells me you read a lot," Bannon said.

She glanced at him. "I guess."

"I like to read, too, but I wasn't thinking when I packed to
come up here and didn't bring any books with me."

"What kind of stuff do you read?"

"Mysteries, thrillers-anything with a bit of bite to it."

"I can lend you some books if you want," Ali said, interested
despite herself. "Did you ever try Tony Hillerman?"

Valenti nodded to himself as BanDon kept Ali talking. It was a
good move. Keep her mind off ali~ the shit that was piling up
around them. But meanwhile, he realized, he was going to have
to come up with something. First off he had to get Ali and her
momma out of here. And then . . . then he had to deal with the
trouble Ricca was going to dump on their heads.

"No," Franlcie said.
They'd all had breakfast once she'd gotten up. Now Ali and
Bannon had gone down to tbe Treasure house for some bool~s,

GREENMAN1LE

119

leaving Valenti to try to talk Frankie into taking a short vacation.
Frankie was having nothing to do with the idea.

"You don't really understand," Valenti began.

"Oh, I understand," Frankie said. "God, I lived with the man,
didn't I? But I swore I wasn't going to run anymore. I've been
scared of Earl for too many years, Tony. It's time I stood up to
him once and for all."

Now what could he say? That it wasn't just Shaw? He decided
to take a different tack. "What about Ali?" he asked.

"It's. . . this is something that we're both going to have to live
with," Franlcie said after a moment. '~'I wasn't in the best of shape
last night, so when you offered to put us up, I have to admit I
jumped at the chance. I was scared-mostly for Ali, but for me,
too. But I don't want to always be turning to a man for help. Can
you understand that, Tony? I have to make it on my own-and

Ali's going to have to learn to do the same."

Valenti shook his head. "People got to help each other, or
what've we got? Maybe it's a man helping a woman, maybe it's a
woman helping a man-what's the difference?"

"There shouldn't be any, but there is," Frankie said.

She ran a hand through her hair. Valenti wondered what it'd
feel like to touch that hair, all those curls.... Frankie's clear
gaze settled on him.

"I've been dependent on mcn for my whole life, Tony," she
said. "Even after I left Earl, there were always men in my life
that I ~vas leaning on-emotionally dependent on, even if they
weren't supporting me in the traditional sense of the word. I'd
probably still be going on like that-not wanting to, but needing
to-but then I won that lottery and everything changed. It wasn't
just the money, you see. It was the chance to go anywhere I
wanted and start over again."

"And you picked Lanark."

Frankie smiled. "I guess it seems a little weird, doesn't it? But
I used to live in that house, Tony. That's where I grew up. When
I was a little girl, my father used to beat up on my mother and the
thing I kerned was that the man runs the family. That what he
says goes.

"I left Earl, sure, but I don't think I ever got away from that
lesson, so going back was my way of learning things over again.
My mother ran away, just like I did from Earl. That showed me
one way of dealing with the problem. But now I've come baclc
and I'm not running away again. I might move away someday,

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120 O~les de Lb*                    ~GREENMANTIE     121

but it'll be because I want to-not because I've been chasod
away."

"Well, I can understand that," Valenti said, though he was a
little uncomfortable with the idea that a man wasn't the head of
his own family. The wife and the husband, they each had their
rok, didn't they?

"Do you believe that men and women are equal, Tony? That
they should have the same rights?"

"What? Oh, sure."

Frankie nodded, missing his hesitation. "But the woman's side
of that balance has got a long way to go before the scales start
weighing out even. It's funny, but Ali's the one that's made rne
see a lot of this-this whole idea of not only talking about oquality,
but doing something about it. She reads up on it." Frankie
laughed. "Lectures me when she figures I'm stepping out of line.
She's good for me. God, I love her."

"She's a good kid."

"She's a dynamite kid," Frankie said. "She's luckie~ in some
ways than the women of my own generation, too. We were
growing up when this whole thing came to a head-when
Women's Lib was like a swear word and any woman involved in
it had to be a lesbian."

Valenti shifted uncomfortably. He'd been guilty of that lrind of
attitude himself, when he'd bothered to think about it at all. He
looked at Frankie, but she didn't seem to nodce his discomfort.

"I worry about what all this is doing to Ali," Frankie finished.
"Sometdmes I feel that living the way we have has made her miss
out on her childhood. Shc doesn't hang around with other kids a
lot and she talks and acts like a little adult half the tame. Sometimes
I think she's got a better handle on things than I do. Iilce
women's rights.

"All's growo up with the whole concept being a part of everyday
life. Not that the battle's won-not by a longshot. But at
least something's being done. Maybe it'll be easier still for my
grandchildren. God, 1 hope so. If all of Ali's generatdon were
more like her, I wouldn't have any worries at all. But then I have
to ask myself-is missing out on a normal childhood going to
hurt her in the long run?"

"All's the kind of kid who'll do good no matter what she sets
out to take on," Valenti said.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. I just worry about not being a good
mother, I guess."

~,

"I don't think that's anything you got to worry about," Valenti
said. "All talks about you all the time-you're number one in her
book."

Frankie smiled gratefully.

"I've got to be honest with you," Valenti went on. "I never
thought a whole lot about what you're talking about with this
women's rights stuff, but listening to you . . . well, it makes you
think."

"All men aren't to blame," Frankie said. "A lot of them are
just vicdms, too. It's hard to get away from sexual stereotyping
when our whole society is based on it."

Valenti nodded. He was going to have to think about this some
more. "So you're not going?" he asked then, taking the conversation
back to its beginnings.

Frankie shook her head.

"I've got to tell you something else then," he said, "while
we're . . ." He searched for the word.

"Baring our souls?"

"Yeah. I haven't always been what you'd want to call a good
man. I've been involved with some . . ." Again he searched for a
word. "Some guys who aren't on the up and up."

Frankie leaned forward. "What are you saying, Tony?"

Valenti sighed. Christ, he didn't want to get too deep into
anything, tell her things that would scare her off. He liked Frankie.
He was comfortable with her and had to admire her for
wanting to make her stand. And he really didn't want to lose his
friendship with Ali. If things worked out, if he could deal with
Ricca and Shaw and maybe hold on to what he had here, he
didn't want to have Frankie telling him to stay away from the kid.
So what could he say now?,

"What I'm saying," he said finally, "is that I've run into your
ex before, and he's a-pardon the language-but he's a piece of
shit. That you already knew. But what you maybe don't know is
that he's tight with some pretty heavy people. I mean, the usual
case you get where the man's hassling his ex-it's not good, but
it can usually be handled just like you're planning to. But your
ex... He's into guns, Frankie, and he wasn't alone when he
came looking for you and Ali."

"You're scaring me."

"It's good that you're scared," Valenti said. "This is a scary
business."

"God. If anything ever happened to Ali . . ."

122 Charles de Lint

Frankie leaned wealcly back in her chair, feeling her resolve
drain away. She looked at Tony's serious face. He made it hard,
too. There was something about him-not just the secrets she ~
could sense in him, but some inner strength he had that she en' l
vied. She was attracted to him because of who he was and how
he carried himself, because of his relationship with Ali, too. But
what if that attraction was just her reaching out to lean on someone
again?

"How . . . how involved in this scary business stuff were you?"
she asked.

"Whatever I was into, I'm retired," Valenti replied. "Believe
me, Frankie. But-l will tell you this: What I learned in that business
kept Ali from being snatched last night."

Frankie nodded. Neither Ali nor Valenti had been forthcoming
about the details of what had taken place last night. Frankie
meant to get to the bottom of it-only now didn't seem to be the
right time. But there was more than just Earl involved. Of that
she was sure.

She sat up straighter. "I'm still not going," she said.

"Will you let me help you?" Valenti asked. "As a friend helping
a friend, or a neighbor helping a neighbor? No strings."

"But I'm not staying up here. We're going back to our own
house."

"Fair enough. And you'll call if anything comes up?"

"God! Of course I'll call. We should call the police as well-
now, before Earl comes back."

"And what are they going to do?"

Frankie thought about that. Unless they caught Earl in the act,
the most that could happen was that she might-be able to get a
restraining order trom the court, but she knew from past experience
just how much use that would be.

"But if Earl does come again . . .?"

"Call me," Valenti said. "I'm two minutes away and my friend
Tom's staying up for the week. B, the time the police answer
your call, God knows what'll have happened."

Frankie nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll call you."

Valenti held back a "that's a-girl". He didn't think Frankie
would appreciate it. But come to think of it, who the hell was he
to talk down to her like that? She was making a stand, wasn't
she? And willing to do it on her own, too. You had to admire
someone who was willing to do that, man or woman.

"Things are going to work out," he said.

': ~

GREENMANnE

123

"God, I hope so," Frankie said. But she knew she had a lot to
think about. Just then Ali and Bannon returned, Bannon loaded
down with a half-dozen books that Ali had lent him.

"You going to stay for lunch?" Valenti asked Frankie.

Frankie nodded and found a small smile with difficulty. Just
looking at her daughter as Ali bounced happily about the room,
talking up a storm with a somewhat bemused Bannon, she felt a
stab of fear so sharp that her chest hurt. If anything happened to
Ali. . . No, she told herself. Don't even think about it.

GREENMAbJnE

CHAPTER TWO

Broadway loe Fucceri didn't much like the idea of the meet. He
liked it less when he stepped into the restaurant with two of his
boys and spotted at least three hired muscles inside, with another
hanging around outside. It was easy to spot them-but then he
was supposed to. What bothered him was that he couldn't make
any of them. The fact that the meet was in the area of a lot of
off-Broadway theatres hadn't escaped him, either. The message
was: Play it cool.

The Silver Fox was waiting for him in a booth at the rear of
the restaurant looking the same as always. The big smile, the
silver hair. Broadway loe motioned his bodyguards over to the
counter and walked down to the Silver Fox's booth.

"Hey, Mario," he said as he slid in across from him. "Immigration
know you're in town?"

Mario shrugged. "Come te la sei passata?" he asked. How's
it going?

"Not so bad," Broadway loe said, waggling his hand. "We got
a few problems, but there's always problems. Nothing we can't
handle." He picked up the menu and studied it for a moment.
"You wanted to talk9"

"I got a favor I'd like you to think about."

"Must be a pretty important favor to get you to fly in, consider~
ng."

"For me, it's important," Mario said. "For you, it's nothing."

"So tell me about it."

Mario studied him for a moment. He'd wanted a face-to-face
meet, because that was one thing he was good at. Reading faces.
"It's about Tony," he said. 'Yony Valenti."

"That's old news now," Broadway loe said.

'Y)Id news in you don't want him, or old news in you've got a
line on himr,

"1'11 tell you the truth, Mario, it's a little of both, you know
what I'm saying? Now I know you're not stupid enough to come

124

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125

in here carrying a wire, so between the two of us, I know Tony
had nothing to do with the Don getting hit, so what do I want
with him?"

"Word on the street says the open contract on him's still
standing."

"That's just business-we're not looking for him."

"Not even if someone fingers him?"

"I never figured the Silver Fox for a snitch," Broadway loe
said.

Mario's eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't Hy three thousand
miles to listen to this kinda shit."

"So what did you come for.?"

"I want you to call off the contract on Tony," Mario said. "As
a favor. You can say he was hit-I don't give a shit how you put
it-just so's you call it off."

Broadway loe shook his head. "I don't like what I'm hearing,
Mario. I don't like yow muscle, I don't like this 'off-Broadway'
shit, I don't lilce threats."

"I'm asking you for a favor, loe."

"Yeah. But I'm hearing 'or else' behind your asking."

Mario shrugged.

"We were friends once," Broadway Joe said. "We were farnily,
Mario. But I don't know who you are anymore. You told me
you were retired, but the word comes from overseas that you're
connected with some of the old families now. Now I got as much
respect as anyone for them, but this is America, and what they
say don't mean shit here-you understand what I'm saying?"

"We'd still be working together if the family hadn't let me be
deported."

"Well, I regret that," Broadway loe said. "I really do. But
that's the way of the world, capito? Not much we can do about
that anymore."

"I'm not asking for that.
"
I know. You're asking me for something that's not so easy for
me to promise-not when I got to think about some of the old
families trying to throw their weight around over here. What
you're asking for is a lime thing-but if I give it to them,
whattre they gonna ask for nextT'

"This is personal-you know that."

Broadway loe nodded slowly. "Between you and mc, thenT'

"Between you and me," Mario agreed. "And I am retired now,
foe. I've done the old families a favor or two, but shit, I got to
live with them. It's better to be owed tban owing."

~narles de Lint

"I can understand that," Broadway Joe said. "Okay. As a
favor to you, I'm calling off the contract on Tony."

Mario regarded him for a long moment. You Iying sonovabitch,
he thought. But he'd had to try. "This's one I owe you," he
said softly.

Broadway Joe smiled, taking the words at face value and
missing the irony behind them. "I'm glad we had this talk,
Mario," he said. "It's been too long. Maybe we can pull a few
strings, get you back into the country legally-what do you
say?"

Mario shook his head, matching Broadway loe's smile with
his own. "ltm too settled where I am now, Joe. But I appreciate
it."

"You want to order now?"

"No. I've got a flight to catch." Mario stood up and offered
Broadway loe his hand. "Ciao, loe."

Broadway loe rose as well and shook. "May we all live long
and prosperous lives," he said.

Mario nodded. When he left the restaurant, only one of the
men Broadway Joe had spotted as his muscle left with him. The
other two sat, watching Broadway loe and his bodyguards.

Now's not the place, Broadway loe thought. But as soon as
Valenti was hit, something was going to have to be done with the
Silver Fox. It would be very carefully a'Tanged, for although the
old families didn't have the control that the media thought they
did here in America, they still had a long ann. And Mario himself
would be dangerous as soon as he learned about Tony being
hit. Broadway Joe knew he'd feel a whole lot better once both of
them were out of the way.

As the meet was going down in New York City between the
Silver Fox and the consigliere of the Magaddino family, Earl
Shaw was meeting a plane at the Ottawa International Airport.
He drove a new Buick that he'd rented from Hertz under false ID.
After leaving the lot with it, he'd taken the extra precaution of
switching its plates with another Buick in an underground parking
lot downtown. Leaving the car at a meter when he reached
the airport, he drifted inside to wait for the most recent New York
flight to disembark. He wondered who Broadway Joe had sent.

I'm gonna enjoy this, Earl thought. Ever since he'd worked
with Valenti on that Miami deal, he'd had an itch for the guy. He
was just too old-world Mafia for Earl's tastes. When he'd heard

GREENMANTLE

127

that Valenti had hit old man Magaddino, he'd had to laugh. Just
goes to show you, he'd thought. Don't trust no-fucking-body.

The passengers were coming through now and Earl gave them
the once over. When his gaze fell on Louie Fucceri, a smile came
to his lips. Well, that figured. Who better to send after their old
chief enforcer, than their new one? He caught Fucceri's gaze and
nodded outside. When Louie nodded back, Earl ambled out the
front door of the terminal and `4ent for the car.

"He made you?" Louie repepted.

He sat in the front seat with Earl. He'd brought only one man
with him, Johnny 'Three-Fingers" Maita, who was sitting in the
back. Wheo they'd stepped out of the terminal, looking for his
car, Earl~had trouble keeping a straight face. They were both in
their three-piece suits, with their slick wop hair and dark complexions.
It was just too much.

In the back seat, Fingers was now taking apart some aerosol
shave cream and spray deodorant cans. Fitted neatly inside them
were the.makings of two small .22 pistols, complete with silencers.
Putting aside the cans that had gotten the weapons in
through customs, Fingers put the guns.together. When the first
was done, he passed it over the front seat to Louie, then went to
work on his own.

"Yeah," Earl said in reply to Louie's question. "He made me.
So what?"

Louie shook his head. "So what? He's going to be long-gone,
that's so what."

"Where's he going to go?"

"Anywhere but where he was. I mean, think about it for a
moment. Would you hang around?"

"Well, that'd all depend on who made me," Earl said. "Valenti
knows I'm not coonected. Christ, I've only done one deal with
you guys before, so what's the problem?"

Louie didn't bother answering. If he'd known this before, he
wouldn't have bothered flying in. "Well, we might as well check
it out, now that we're here," he said.

Earl grinned. "Sure. Why not?"

Not for the first time, Louie wondered about his father's wisdom
in trusting Earl with this Colombian run. Sure, he had some
good connections in Bogota. But he didn't have much in the way
of brains.

"Did you get the artillery we're going to need?" he asked.

Earl shook his head. "I got that deal going down this after

128

Charles de Lint

noon." The reason he hadn't set it up sooner was that he was
runn~ng drastically low on funds. Frankie-baby, he thought. You
snd me, we've got to talk. Real soon.

Comung off the Airport Parkway onto Bronson Avenue, he
glanced at Louie. "You guys want to get set up at the hotel first7"

Louie nodded. Earl looked in the rearview mirror to see
Fingers staring off out of one of the side windows. Nice suits, he
thought again. Wonder how pretty they were going to look if they
had to chase Valenti down through the woods. He grinned at the
thought of the two big city gunmen floundering through the bush.
The image kept him in good humor all the way to their hotel.

CHAPTER THREE

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Frankie turned off the ignition after~pulling into their drive. She
didn't get out of the car right away, turning instead to look at Ali.

"What do you know about Tonyr' she asked. "I mean, about
what he did before he came to live up here?"

Ali regarded her mother and thought for a moment. She had a
good idea why Frankie was asking this question, but she wasn't
sure how much Tony had told her. Some, at least, or she
wouldn't be asking what she was now.

"Not a whole lot," she said finally. "I get the feeling from
stuff he's said that he was involved with some sort of law enforcement
agency-something to do with studying organized
crime."

Frankie's eyebrows went up. "Well, that explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"He knows things about Earl that I didn't think he could know
without being involved in some sort of criminal activity himself.
But now that you mention it, a policeman would know the same
things-or at least enough to know what kind of a man Earl is."
She shook her head slowly. "God, when I think of what he was
lilce when I first met him . . ."

"What was he like, mom?"

"Different. Very different. Kinder. Or maybe he just seemed
kinder. Not always concerned with making money any way he
could. I'm not even sure when it all started to change."

"Do you think he's going to come back?"

Frankie nodded. "It's the money, Ali. He wants the money we
~von in the lottery and I don't think he'll stop at much to get it."
She leaned back against the headrest, tapping her fingers on the
steering wheel, then sat up abruptly. "We should get a move on,"
she said, getting out of the car.

"Are you going somewhere?" Ali asked as she joined her

mother on the driveway.

"Not me-we. I promised Joy I'd be her moral support at the

129

130 Charles de Lint

funeral home this afternoon and this evening, though God knows
it's the last thing I want to be doing after all we went through
yesterday."

'Mom, I don't want to go."

"You have to, Ali. I'm no' leaving you here on your own
again-not with Earl out there somewhere, just waiting for the
chance to hurt us."

"I can go up to Tony's...."

Frankje shook her head. "We've imposed on Tony too much as
it is."

"He won't mind, mom. I know he won't."

"All, he has a friend staying with him. Do you really thinlc
they want to have you hanging around all week?"

"I got along really well with Tom," Ali protested.

"Yes, and he was nice to me as well, but let's not wear out our
welcome, okay?"

"Tony said I could come up anytime I-"

"All, I said no."

"I'm not going," Ali said. "I'm not going to spend all day
hanging around some yucky funeral home. I won't even know
any of these people, Mom."

"All, please don't argue."

"I'm not arguing. I just don't want to go. Can't we at least call
Tony and ask him to be really honest about whether or not I could
come up? I could bring some of my studying and a book. I'd just
stay up in the guest room and not bother them at all."

Frankie rubbed her right temple. She understood exactly how
Ali felt. She wasn't particularly looking forward to the rest of this
day, either. But she didn't want to impose on Tony any more than
she already had. They were going to have to learn to face this
problem with Earl on their own, even if it meant that she
wouldn't be able to leave Ali home by herself for awhile. It
wasn't fair to Ali-but it wasn't faur for her, either. God damn
you, Earl. Why did you have to come back?

"Mom . . .?

Frankie sighed as she turned to her daughter. The conversation
she'd had with Tony went through her mind-all those reasons
why it was so important that they faced up to their problems by
themselves.

"I promise I won't be any trouble or get in their way or anything,"
Ali said.

"What if they have plans to go out?"

GREENMANll-E

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131

"Then I won't go up-I'll come with you. But can't we at
least ask"

Frankie hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. "All right,
Ali. We'll ask, but I'm going to make the call and if he says no,
there'll be no more discussion-deal?"

"Deal."

"Sure," Valenti said. "It's no problem at all."

"I hate to ask, only-"

"No, really. I'd love to have Ali come up. Tom likes her and
we weren't going anywhere anyway."

"Well, if you're sure . . ."

"I'll teell you, Frankie, if it was going to be a problem, I'd say
so. You want me to come pick her up?"

"No. I can drop her off on my way to town."

Ali was beaming when Frankie got off the phone. "I knew
he'd say it was okay," she said.

"Well, I've got to change," Frankie said, smiling at her daughter'
s infectious good humor. She gave Ali a once-over look. "And
you could do with a wash-up and change of clothes as well."

"I'm on my way."

Frankie shook her head. "Uh-uh, kiddo. I've got first dibs on
the bathroom."

"Tom's here to help me with the problem we were talking
about last night," Valenti said to Ali.

The three of them were sitting around back of his house. The
sky was heavily overcast, but so far the rain had held off. Valenti
and Bannon were sitting in lawn chairs, while Ali perched on the
stairs. Ali gave Bannon a quick look, while Bannon frowned at
their host.

"It's okay," Valenti said. "All and I don't have too many secrets,
right?"

Ali nodded.

"But the thing is, Tom, there's more going on here than just
who Magaddino's going to send or the problem we got with Ali's
old man." He let that hang in the air for a moment as he looked
from Ali to Bannon.

Ali shivered thinking of last night.

"Like what?" Bannon asked finally.

"Well, it's not so easy to explain."

"We could play him the tape," Ali said.

Valenti nodded. "But I don't think it's going to do the same

1S~ ~harles de Llnt

thinB for him as it does for us. I think you got to hear the real
thing first and then the tape just sort of helps you remember."

"I suppose," Ali said. "All I know is that the thing we should
really be concentrating on is who Mally and Tommy are, and how
we can find them."

Bannon looked at Ali as she said the name Tommy.

"Not you," Valenti said. "This is some guy who's playing a
flute or something in the evenings and lives back there." He
nodded toward the woods behind his house.

"You're losing me," Bannon said.

"So we'll fill you in," Valenti said. He explained about the
music and the feeling of being watched. For the first time, Ali
heard about what Valenti had seen the first night she'd seen the
stag and then it was her turn to describe her meeting with Mally.
Valenti covered the events of last night. When they were done
they both studied Bannon for his reaction~

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "You're putting me
on-right?"

"I know the feeling," Valenti said. "But there's something
going on back in there and I think it needs checking out."

"Maybe. But it seems to be that you'd want this problem with
Magaddino straightened out first. I mean, so someone's playing
music back in the woods. So what?"

"You haven't heard it yet," Valenti said. "And until you do,
it's going to be hard for us to explain why it's so important for us
to find out what it means. See, last night that buck deer saved
us-Ali and me both."

"That doesn't make sense. It's just a deer...."

Valenti nodded. "That's the thing. It's just a deer. A big one.
So maybe someone trained it, but I don't know. If I hadn't seen
what it did to Shaw's car last night, I'd have had to say it might
not even have been real. I mean, I saw these things chasing it the
night it was out behind Ali's place, but she didn't see anything
but the stag."

"So what are you saying?" Bannon asked.

It was Ali who answered. "We should go up that track," she
sa~d, pointing to where the road petered off into the forest, "and
see where it takes us."

Bannon glanced at the sky, then back to them. "It's going to

"Probably," Valenti said. "But I think it'll hold off for a couple
of hours still."

"What about your leg?" Bannon aslced.

GREEN~

133

"It'll be okay-so long as we take it easy. I've been looking
at a map of the area and there can't be more than about four
square miles back in there before you run up against the Clyde
River to the north and the county road that runs between Poland
and Joe's Lake on the east. We'll follow the track-for an hour
tops-and see where it takes us."

"You're the boss," Bannon said.

Valenti looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Only
problem I see," he said, "is Mario said he was sending somebody
else to help us, but he wasn't going to be here till later today. I
don't want to miss him."

"That's no problem," Bannon said. "What he told me was, the
guy was going to hang back and keep a lookout from a distance.
We don't make him, but then neither do Magaddino's people.
When we need him, he moves in close."

"I don't like that. I don't want to have to be thinking that one
of the people out there's on our side, you know what I'm saying?
It's going to make me hesitate-maybe at the wrong time."

"Whoever Mario sends, he's going to be a pro."

Valenti nodded at length. "There's that." He glanced at Ali.
"So what do you say, Ali? Do you want to go for a hike?"

Ali had been following the conversation between the two men
a little nervously, realizing that she hadn't really taken Tony's
background and current problem as seriously as she should have.
Talk, like she and Tony had done about it before any of this
began, was one thing. It was sort of romantic, like in a Bogart
movie or something. But this was the real thing they were talking
about now.

Maybe so, she told herself, but if she backed out of it at this
point, she'd never find out a lot of things. About the stag, about
the music... And besides, Tony was her friend and you didn't
back out on your friends when the going got tough.

She found a smUe for him. "What are we waiting for?" she
asked.

"Would you believe a raWit that can read?"

Ali held up a hand. "Please, Tony. Spare us the bad jokes."

"Okay, okay. Let me go inside and pick up a couple of things
and then we'll go."

"All right," Ali said. "But if you're not back in five minutes,
we're going without you."

Valenti gave Bannon a "what do you do without someone line
thatr loolc as he went inside, but Bannon just laughed.

134

Ch~es de Lh*

"C'mon," he said to Ali. "Let's wait for him at the end of the
road."

Ali followed him. Andcipadon of what they might find once
they entered the forest was too strong to keep her natural good
humor down. By the dme Valend joined them, she'd al~eady
begun to bounce back into a less introspective mood and forget
her fears.

R'
f

1

;

.

CHAPTER FOUR

Howie Peale woke with the sun shining in his eyes. He turned
over, onto his wounded shoulder. The pain made him roll quickly
onto his back again.

Above him was a low plaster ceiling. He moved his head so
that he could see the rest of the room. Where the hell...? The
fake wood panelling, the bookshelf stuffed with old Reader's Digest
books, the mounted carp on the wall, the dresser with its
cracked mirror and top laden with deodorant, make-up and
panty-hose-it all served to disorient him. Especially coming out
of the dream he just had.

He'd been in an old beat-up Ford in the middle of the bush
somewhere. The car had been abandoned, didn't even have an
engine, but he was sitting behind the wheel, acting like he was
driving it. There'd been a car like it in the wood lot behind his
parents' place and he'd often sat in it, daydreaming that he was
everything from Al Capone to a driver in the Grand Prix. But that
was years ago, while in the dream he was an adult sitting in that
old car, his nostrils filling with the smell of mouldering leather
and the tang of old metal.

Still, that was okay. He could have handled that, no problem.
Except that the big buck deer that had attacked them last night
was standing in front of the Ford, staring at him through the
cracked windshield. He saw violence in the creature's eyes-the
same kind of look that he saw in Earl's when he'd wasted that
guy the other night.

The stag circled round until it was facing the driver's door and
Howie remembered stepping on the gas pedal, as if that old Ford,
without an engine and up on blocks, was going to take him away
from the deer. He stomped and the buck came at him, head lowered,
galloping, getting bigger and bigger undl it hit the side of
the Ford with a jarring crash.

Howie just sat there, clutching the steering wheel, watching it
back up for another run, then suddenly he wasn't in the car any

135

136

Charles de LLnt

more, but on a freeway. Corning at him, out of a low ground fog,
was a pick-up truck. It had a set of antlers attached to the hood
the headlights shining like some huge monster's eyes.

Howie ran for the woods, the pick-up chasing him. When he
got in among the trees, he chanced a look back to see that the
truck was gone. The stag was in its place, bearing down on him,
antlers lowered. It was about then that he woke up.

He remembered it all now, the dream and the reality of last night.
The sense of dislocation left him and he sat up, gingerly feeling his
shoulder thn~ugh its bandage. It hurt like hell. That wop who'd shot
him was going to get his, dannn straight. Howie started to lower his
feet to the floor when the door to the room opened and the brunette
who'd taken care of him last night came in.

"Uh-uh," she said, wagging a finger at him. "Doctor Mallon
says plenty of rest, buster."

"Doctor. . .?"

Sherry grinned. "Me, dummy. I'm Sherry Mallon-remember?"

Howie nodded. "Yeah. The nurse. Sure I remember-I just
didn't know your name."

The blonde woman na~ned Lisa came to lean against the doorjamb.
They were both wearing snug-fitting jeans today-Sherry
with a sweatshirt overtop while Lisa had on a lacy white blouse.

"So how are you feeling?" Sherry asked.

"A little woozy. Had some weird dreams."

"Well, that's to be expected. I went to the drugstore this morning
to get some antibiotics and gave them to you earlier."

"What. . . what time is it?"

"About eleven-thirty," Lisa said frDrp the doorway.

"Where's Earl?"

"He had to meet someone in Ottawa, he said." Lisa moved to
sit on the edge of the bed as she spoke. "And everyone else is
gone to work-except for us."

"You don't work?"

Lisa smiled. '-I wish. No, I'm on holidays-great time of year
for them, don't you think? But I had to use 'em or lose 'em.
Sherry's got the day off."

"Would you like something to eat?" Sherry asked.

"Can I get up to eat it?"

"Well . . . just so long as you don't do anything strenuous."

Howie shook his head. "I couldn't do anything strenuous if
"y life depended on it."

GREENMA~

137

* * *

"What time did Earl say he was coming back?" Howie asked
after a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

"He didn't," Lisa said from the sink.

Howie thought about that. Christ, he hoped Earl hadn't
dumped him. "Listen," he said. "I really appreciate you folks
looking after me and everything."

"Do the same for a white man,'~ Sherry said. She was sitting
across the table from him, a crossword puzzle boolc open in front

of her. "What's a six-letter word for 'more profound'?"

Howie shrugged. "I was never much good with that kind of
thing."

"Wiser," Lisa said.

"S`x-letter."

"Wisest, then."

"Oh, never mind. I'll look it up." She flipped to the baclc of
the book and wrote "deeper" in the appropriate squares.

"Are you guys from around here?" Howie asked.

Lisa turned from the sink to look at him. "Us ,g~ys?"

"No. I mean-"

Lisa laughed. "That's okay-I was just teasing. I grew up in
Perth, but Sherry's from out west."

"Where the buffalo roam," Sherry said. "Fear and loathing on
the great plains."

The Hunter S. Thompson references were totally lost on
Howie. "Perth's south of here, right?" he asked.

"lust a few miles down the road from Lanark," Lisa said.
"WhyT'

Howie thought for a moment, wondering how to frame his
question. He didn't want to come off like an asshole in front of
them-it wasn't often that he had a couple of good-looking
broads like this, just shooting the shit with him. But there were
things he wanted to know.

"Did you see the car we came in last nightT'

Lisa nodded. "It's still out there. What hit you-a Mac truckT'

"No. A deer."

Sherry looked up. "A deer? C'mon. Get serious."

"No. Really. The biggest buck deer I've ever seen." And he'd
seen so many, Howie thought. At least in the zoo. "It was the size
of a moose."

"Maybe it was a moose," Sherry said.

Howie shook his head. "No, it was a deer all right. It just

138

Ch~es de LInt

hauled off and hit us while we parked on this dirt road somewhere
south of here. Does that kind of thing happen a lot?"

"What?" Lisa asked. "Deer attacking cars?"

Howie nodded.

"This is the first time I've heard of it."

"Up in the Rockies," Sherry said, "I've seen bighorns crowding
a car, but not attacking it."

"And there was this music," Howie went on, wondering how
to explain just what it had sounded like. "It was... eerie...."

The who women waited for him to go on. When he didn't,
Lisa gave a little laugh.

"Do you do a lot of drugs?" she asked.

"What? No. I mean, I wasn't high just then." What he wu
trying to say was that somehow the music had seemed connected
to the buck's attack. He just didn't know how to come out with it
and not sound stupid.

"WeU, maybe we should do some now," Lisa said. "What do
you think, Dr. Mallon?"

"I would prescribe a few good solid hits of a hash joint,"
Sherry said.

Lisa looked at Howie. "What about you, sailor?"

"Sounds great," Howie said.

He'd been dumb to bring it up, but at least he hadn't done it
with Earl. Christ knows what Earl might have done because, now
that Howie thought about it, it did seem to be a pretty dumb thing
to be talking about. But the memory of that music bothered him
and he was determined to go back and listen for it again. There
was something in it that had wanted to hurt him, that still wantet
to hurt him. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it was
true. But he had to go back all the same.

"Here, Howie," Sherry said, passing him ajoint. "Have ahit."

He smiled and took it from her, pushing his strange thoughts
away. Fuck it. He'd worry about it later. Right now he had a
couple of beautiful broads for company, dope to smoke, and
some R&R due him. The buck and the music could wait. And so
could Earl, as far as that went.

He sucked on the joint, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs
and looked at his companions. Maybe he'd luck out and get a
blowjob from one of them. Christ, maybe he'd really luck out and
get one from both of them. He grinned, feeling himself get hard
under the table, and took another toke before passing the joint on.

CHAPTER FIVE

~.

.~..
1

-~

:

.

.
. l

l
l
.
.

::

"You've got to be nuts taUcing the~way you do in front of that
Icid," Bannon said.

Valenti glanced ahead to where Ali was almost out of sight
because of the undergrowth. They were following the traclc
which had dwindled into a footpath. Somebody used that path
regularly, Valenti thought, because it was relatively clear. Who,
exactly, he didn't know. The only people he'd ever seen using it
were a couple of times when an old beat-up touring car parked
across from his driveway while its occupants trudged off up the
track for the day. There was an older man, a younger couple, and
three or four kids-dressed in shabby clothes, but clean looking.

The last time they'd come had been in the fall. Valenti just
usumed they were picnicking, loaded down as they were with
backpacks and parcels, but now he wasn't so sure. Could be they
were delivering staples to whoever lived back in there. This
Tommy who made the music. Or Mally.

"I'm telling you," Bannon said. "It's just asking for trouble."

"All's a good kid," Valenti said. "She won't be no problem."

Bannon shook his head. "Right now it's not real. It's like a
game or a movie or something. But what happens when it sinks
in just what you really were in the family{:hrist, what the
family really isT'

"I think she unterstands."

"Bullshit. She's just a kid."

"I was thirteen when I did my first hit," Valenti said.

"Thirteen?"

"Yeah. There was a guy moving into the neighborhood-not
connected or anything-who was trying to get a concession
started. Drugs, you know what I'm saying? Well, the padrone he
doesn't like this so he sends a cousin to talk to the guy, only the
cousin doesn't come back. A couple of days later we find what's
left of him hanging in one of the padrone's warehouses. Guy was
skinned alive, fercrissakes. Mario told me he was stiU warm

139

140

Charles de LInt

when they cut him down-guy was hanging there still alive for
aO that time. . ." Valenti shook his head.

"Anyway, this is serious business now. Trouble is, the guy-
this pusher-he doesn't go anywhere without a lot of muscle
and the padrone, he doesn~t want a bloodbath taking this guy
out. So someone gets smart and says, 'Hey, he's on the street,
there's lots of kids around-who's gonna think twice about a
kid?"'

Valenti glanced at Bannon, who nodded to show he was listening.

"
Nobody," Valenti said. "That's who. Not the guy, not his
muscle. So I get my first contract. Mario sets it up. I got the gun
in my pocket, and I'm running with a bunch of kids, you know,
throwing a ball around. The ball gets near the guy's car, I run
over to get it. The muscle~s not paying any attention to me-
Christ, I'm just a kid, right? So I get right up to the car, fire twice
at him, and then I'm gone."

"Hell, of a thing-sending out a kid like that."

"Hey, it was the only business I was going to know." Valenti
paused to make his point and Bannon stopped with him. "I'm not
some cowboy," Valenti said, "notching my gun or something stupid.
I never even used the same piece twice. But I was good at
what I did and with the padrone there was- never any bullshit-
no fooling around, capito? Things had to get pretty bad before he
caDed a hit."

"That's not what I heard," Bannon said.

Valend nodded. "Yeah. Things started to change. The padronc
got old-maybe he wasn't seeing so clearly anymore. I don't
know. But most of the business I did with the Magaddino family,
it was just talking, you know? I'd go talk to a guy-maybe he
owes some money, maybe he's got t`? come up with a favor he
promised and he's trying to welch on it. Whatever. There weren't
tbat many hits-not in the old days. It wasn't good for busi

ness."

"Who needs trouble?" Bannon said.

"Exactly. Who needs it? But the way things are now. . ." Valend
shook his head. "I'm telliog you, I look at the paper or catch
the news and I can't believe what I'm seeing. Not just aD this
Middle East bullshit-it's all the weird guys out there. Serial
Icillers, they're calling them. What kind of a guy does that, just
Icilling for kicks? I mean, I can understand a guy getting angry,
getting a little crazy, and I cao understand when it's business-
but wbat Icind of a guy daes it for fun?t'

..!

. Ir

GREENMA~E

141

Bannon shook his head, then tapped a finger against his temple.

"
You got it," Valenti said. He looked up ahead, not seeing
Ali. "Hey, we better get a move on or we'll be meeting Ali on her
way back."

Bannon let him set the pace.

Ali had been like a young pup, straining at its leash, until
Valenti had waved her on.

"Co on," he said. "Scout things out. We'll catch up."

So she ran on ahead, enjoying the sense of freedom that being
in the w'oods gave her. She slowed down after her first sprint,
stopping to poke into holes and peer about and explore. Something
shiny caught her eye on the trail, but it proved to be only a

bit of foil from a cigarene pack, rolled up into a tight little ball.
Far more interesting was the row of ants that moved steadfastly
across the trail. She pushed aside some underbrush to see where
they were con~ng from, then wrinkled her nose when she saw it
was the body of a small dead chipmunk. She let the boughs slap
back in place and headed on down the path.

It took a circuitous route through the trees. Approximately a
mile from where the road ended by Tony's place and the track
started, the path ran into a stream. Ali paused to dubiously study
the scatter of rocks that could serve as stepping stones.

The trail continued on the other side of the stream, which was
at its narrowest point here-at least so far as Ali could see. It
was seven feet wide, tops. Further up and down the stream, the
water broadened out to eight or nine feet, and there were no
stones. She wondered if Tony was going to be able to cross, then
decided to cross first herself to see how hard it would be.

The stones turned out to be laid down in what was almost a
panern. You stepped on one and as you swung your foot in front,
there was another stone just waiting for it. In moments she was
across.

That's funny, she thought as she sat down to wait for Tony and
Tom. When you looked at the stones, it didn't seem like it would
be so easy to cross. It was almost like an optical illusion. She
leaned forward to have a closer look at them, then heard the
bushes rustle bebind her. Fear went through her as she turned. It
didn't entirely go away when she saw Mally's thin features peering
out at her from between the branches of the willows that grew
on this side of the stream.

"'Lo, Ali," she said. "Wbat are you doing?" Sbe stayed where

142 Charles de lint

she was, the low brim of her hat hiding her eyes, the willows all
around her.

ù'Mally!" Ali said, finding a smile. "I was hoping to find you.
I wanted to see where you lived."

"I live here."

Ali looked around, then past Mally to where the forest started
again with a rank of cedars first, then a hodge-podge of birch,
maples, pine and oak. "Here?" she asked.

Mally smiled. "In the forest-in all of it." She shook her head
as though it were very hard to understand why such a simple
explanation should prove so hard for Ali to grasp.

"Yes, but. . ." Ali began.

"Where are you going?" Mally interrupted. "To the stone or to
the village?"

"Well, I didn't even know there was anything out here-I
mean, besides the forest and you. And your friend Tommy."

"I don't really know Tommy," Mally said. "I belong to the
moon, you see, while a mystery has him."

- "A mystery?"

"The stag. The music."

"Oh," Ali said, although it didn't really explain anything. She
was about to say more, when Mally's head lifted like a startled
deer's and she peered down fhe trail.

"Men are coming," she said, moving a little deeper into the
willows.

"It's okay," Ali said. "It's just Tony-you've already met
him, sort of-and a friend of his named Tom Bannon."

"Can't stay."

"No one's going to hurt you," Ali promised.

Mally smiled, showing her teeth. "I know. It's iust that until I
see how the music touches the stranger, I'd rather not meet him."

"But-"

"When the trail forks, go left if you want to get to the stone,
right for the village."

"But what are they, this stone and village?"

"Bye, Ali."

"Mally, wait!" But the wild girl was already gone.

Ali was all set to chase after her, then thought better of it.
Sighing, she turned around to watch Tony and Tom approach.

"l don't know," Valenti said as he looked at the stepping
stones. "Walking's one thing-if I take it easy, I'm okay. But

jumping's something else again."  ~i3

:

1

GREENMAN1LE

143

"Just try it, Tony," Ali said. "It's weird how easy it is."

"Easy for you to say."

"Baby."

Valenti looked at Bannon but found no sympathy there.

"Okay," he said. "I'll give it a try already."

Ali watched his face as he stepped on the first stone and went
for the next. The look of concentration was quickly replaced with
enjoyment and in moments he~was across. Bannon followed, his
features also reflecting surprise.

"What did I tell you?" Ali asked.

Valenti smiled. "Okay. So, for once, you're right."

Ali punched him on the shoulder. "You just missed Mally,"
she said.

"Your wild girl?" Bannon asked. He looked around. "She was
here?"

Ali nodded. "But she's gone now. She said that this trail can
take us either to a stone or a village. Does that make any sense to
you, Tony?"

Valenti shook his head. "I had a good look at the maps before
we set out. This is Black Creek. What we've got is hills to the
southeast, Snake Lake Mountain up that way, and marsh to the
north. But I didn't see any houses marked. "

"How long have we been walking?" Ali asked.

"About thirty-five, forty minutes," Bannon said. He glanced
at Valenti. "You want to go a little further?"

Valenti nodded. "Sure. I'm doing fine. A stone or a village.
Fercrissakes, what'd she mean by that?."

"Well," Ali said. 'There's only one way to find out."

"So let's go," Valenti said, "and cut out all this gabbing."

Ali and Bannon exchanged grins. This time Ali stayed with
the men.

It was almost another forty minutes before they reached the
fork in the trail. The path had continued to wind, doubling back
on itself, it seemed at times. The trees were almost all cedar here,
with big junipers in the few clearings they came across.

"Left is the stone," Ali said. "Right takes us to the village."

"I'm for the village," Valenti said. "I want to meet- this
Tommy."

Bannon nodded in agreement. That was how Ali felt, too,
though she did want to know just what this stone was. They took
the righthand path. After about five minutes, it gave way to an

144

Charles de Lint

open field. When they reached the top of the field's gradual rise,
they were suddenly looking down into a small valley.

"lesus Christ," Valenti said.

The other two were silent, but equally amazed. Below them
lay a cluster of cottages that seemed to come right out of a picture
book of the British countryside. They were made of fieldstone
and wood, with thatched roofs, all except for the barns and one
cabin that was-closest to the higher slopes on their left that had to
be Snake Lake Mountain.

"This doesn't make sense," Ali said. "How can this place be

here and nobody know about it?"  ~

"How do we know that nobody knows about itT' Valenti ~i
asked. "How many people have we talked to about itT'

"There's that," she said.

They stood awhile longer looking down at the tiny village.
There was motion around the buildings-people working in their
gardens, Ali thought. She saw sheep doning the slope on the
other side of the valley.

"Well," Bannon asked. "Are we going down9"

Valeoti and Ali exchanged glances, then the three of them
started down the gentle slope toward the village.

,. i

! ~
.

. i~
~ ~ 1

CHAPTER SIX

When Brenda Maxwell woke on Monday morning, Lance was no
longer Iying beside her. She thought of last night, digging
Dooker's grave in the darkness, Lance standing over it. Lance
would probably never have gone to bed if she hadn't taken his
arm and steered him toward the house and upstairs.

Sining up, she had a preny good idea as to where he was now.
She got out of bed, wrapped a bathrobe around herself and went
downstairs. Through the kitchen window she could see him at the
edge of their property, standing over the freshly-turned mound of
earth that lay on top of Dooker.

Eight years Lance had had that dog, she thought. And the two of
them had been inseparable. The kind of work Lance did, when he
could ga it, hadn't interfered. Hauling, clearing land, working on
houses-unskilled labor, but at least it brought some money in to
help stretch the welfare check. The farmhouse they were living in
used to belong to Lance's father. Now they rented it from the bank.
The rest of the land had been sold off, but no one wanted the old
farmhouse. Just like no one wanted the Maxwells.

It hadn't always been that way, but things changed and what
could you do? They had their problems. Money troubles. Looking
for work. Making ends meet. But this new change in Lance didn't
fit any of that. She'd read in her magazines how stress could make
people go a lime strange, but Lord, she'd never read about anything
like this. Killing Dookerjust didn't make any kind of sense.

And what would? a voice inside her asked. Would it make
more sense if he turned the shotgun on her? Or on himself?

Brenda shivered. Get out or get help, she told herself. And do
it now. But as she moved toward the phone, she saw Lance walk
away from the grave. For a moment she thought he was coming
back inside, but he walked around to the side of the house and
was lost from view. She hesitated, heard the pickup start up,
heard it back out of the lane. As it drove off, all her resolve

145

146 Charles de Lint

drained from her. She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and
stared wearily around the dingy room.

Lord, they had so little as it was-just their health and making
do. Why did that have to be taken away from them, too?

It didn't seem right to Lance that Dooker should be Iying under
that pile of dirt in the backyard. It just didn't make sense. Dooker
wasn't the kind of dog to lay around. He was a doer. Damn dog was
never still, always checking out this, checking out that. Chasing
rabbits and groundhogs. Catching 'em by the neck and giving them
a quick shake that broke their necks, killing 'em fast and easy.

No way a dog like that was dead. Dooker'd just run off somewhere-
playing a game. Looked like it was up to Lance to find
h~m.

He nodded to himself as he drove to a special spot where the
two of them had spent a lot of time. It was off a backroad, with a
stream running by. Trees hung low over the water and there were
lots of fields nearby, full of slow groundhogs just looking to get
the~r necks snapped.

A cloud of dust spun up from Lance's wheels that took a while to
settle after he'd passed. That the was trouble, Lance thought,
watching the dust in his rearview muTor. Times like this a man left no
more trace of himself than a dust cloud like that. Five minutes later,
the dust settled down, and who the hell knew you'd been there?

When he reached the tumoff, he turned into a rutted road that
was more pasture than road, the pickup shaking and rattling all
the way. At the end of the road, he shut off the engine. Stepping
out of the cab, he walked down to the stream and called for
Dooker, waited awhile, called some more. After a time, he just
sat down on his bumper.

Christ on a cross, that dog had really taken off this time.
Where would he go? Lance thought about that, then found himself
thinking about Buddy Treasure and the music he'd heard
back when he'd gotten the flat in f~nt of the old man's place.
That's where Dooker would go. Chasing that music. Chasing the
stag that made the music.

Lance nodded. Turning the truck around, he headed back toward
French Line and the Treasure place. That's where he'd find
Dooker Chasing the music. Iust like the music chased him.
Lance gritted his teeth. He didn't want to think about that, about
what the music did to him, about how it made him feel, about
what chased him through his own dreams. He didn't want to
think about that at all.

~'
r

GREENM~

147

* * _.

Lance stopped in front of the Treasure house and looked it
over. Really looked at it, instead of giving it the quick nervous
glances that he usually did when he drove by. It looked good.
Fixed up real nice. He noted the debris in the front lawn. At
another time he might have thought of offering to haul it away for
a few bucks. At another time. If it were another place.

He got out of the pickup and stood listening to the silence.
There was no sign of Dooker, no sign that there was anyone or
anything around at all. Retuening to the truck, he sat there studying
the building, the wreck of a barn behind it, the woods behind
that. In the early afternoon, even with the overcast sky above, the
property didn't seem much different from any other place. Hell,
why should it? It wasn't the house, but something in the woods
behind it that was playing on his nerves.

He thought about what was back there. He'd lived his whole
life in this area and never heard a whisper of talk about there
being anything strange back there. It was just bush and marsh.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for
him in those woods.

He sat there for a long while, listening to nothing, just staring.
Nobody passed him on the road. Nobody moved inside the house.

There's nothing here, he told himself. Reaching over, he
turned over the ignition. The pickup started up with a cough,
loud in the quiet air. He'd come back, he thought. But first he'd
find Dooker. A man shouldn't go messing around in the bush
without his dog. Christ on crutches, but there was nothing
Dooker liked better than a good run through the woods.

Lance drove away, heading back for that special place that
he'd already checked out once this morning. Dooker had to be
there by now. But when he arrived, there was no sign of the dog.
He beat the bush and called until his voice began to go hoarse.

That dog's just not here, he told himself. And that was because
the damn dog was dead. He'd shot the poor bugger himself
last night.

He lay down on the grass by the stream as a blur of tears
clouded his eyes and his chest tightened with pain. The crisscrossing
branches above him moved with the wind in a hypnotic
pattern and then sleep crept up on him like a sly thief. He slept
d~nlessly, one hand clenched in a tight fist on his stomach, the
other stroking the grass- at his side where Dooker would have
been Iying if he were still alive.

GREENMAN1LE    149

Valenti nodded. Neither woman nor boy had responded to
their friendly greetings.

"Did you take a good look at what they were wearingr' Bannon
asked. When Ali and Valenti shook their heads, he went on.
"The old-fashioned style of their clothes. I can remember my
grandmother wearing one of those old black cotton dresses and
the kid was wearing woolen trousers and a collarless shirt, both
of which looked too big for him."

They reached the front of the last cabin. The trail went on,
inclining more steeply as it entered the woods once more. That'd
be Snake Lake Mountain, Valenti thought. Remembering his
map, he was about to tum to see if he could catch a glimpse of
the lake that should be over to his right when the old man who'd
signaled them came around the side of the cabin.

After what Bannon had pointed out, Valenti took note of the
man's clothing. Like the boy's, his trousers were woolen and he
had a collarless white shirt on as well. Overtop was a tweed vest.
His shoes were scuffed and old. Looking at him, taking in the
creased face and snow-white hair, Valenti realized that everything
about him was old.

He glanced at his companions, but they seemed to be waiting
for him to make the first move. Valenti nodded and smiled at the
old man. He took a couple of steps closer and held out his hand.

"My name's Tony Garonne," he said. "Are you Tommy, uh
.. ." Christ, he thought. They didn't even have a last name for
him. That bothered Valenti. He liked to treat older people with
the respect he felt was their due and that included no familiarities
that weren't okayed first.

The old man smiled as he took Valenti's hand. "I'm not
Tommy. My name's Lewis Datchery. Welcome to New Wolding."
His handshake was firm.

Bannon stepped forward and took Lewis's hand in turn. "Tom
Bannon," he said.

"You're new to the area, aren't youT' Lewis asked.

Bannon glanced at Valenti, then nodded. "Yes. I'm just visiting
Tony for the week."

"And who are you?" Lewis asked, looking at Ali.

"Ali. That is, Alice Treasure, only everybody just caDs me
Ali." She shook the old man's hand as well. His skin felt dry and
leathery to the touch. "You knew we were coming, didn't you?"
she added.

"Yes-yes, I did."

"Was it Mally who told youT'

CH~TER SEVEN

. ~

Lewis was expecting them, having been forewarned by Mally.
She stopped by his cabin with a cryptic "They're coming," before
vanishing into the forest again.

Who was con~ng? he wondered as he left his cabin. lango
Gry and his people? It was a little early for them. He looked up to
the hill where the trail from the outside world left the forest to
come down to the village. When he saw the three figures up
there, he knew that Mally hadn't meant the Gypsies. Taking off
his glasses, he shaded his eyes and peered up at the strangers. He
had never seen any of them before, but he knew who two of them
were all the same.

He waved to get their attention. When he saw that he had
succeeded, he sat down on his chopping stump to wait for them
to come down to taL'c. He wondered what they thought of what
they had found.

"Somebody's trying to get our attention," Bannon said as they
started down the hill.

Ali squinted, but all she could see of the figure by the cabin
was that he was white-haired. "I wish I'd brought my binocs."

"What do you thinJc he wants?" Valenti said.

"Maybe he's Tommy," Ali said.

Bannon nodded. "Could be. Could be anyone. But whoever
he is, it looks like he was expecting us."

They followed the trail on down to the village. Just before it
reached the first buildings it forked again, one path leading in
among the cottages, the other swinging to the left where the figure
had signaled to them. There was only one cottage between
them and the old man's cabin. A middle-aged woman sat on its
stoop and regarded them expressionlessly. A teenaged boy who
was hoeing the garden paused in his labor, also to watch.

"Friendly, aren't they?" Ali whispered when they'd gone by.

148

150 Charles de Lint

"Ah, yes. You've met the little bandit, haven't you?"

Ali nodded. There was a moment's silence then that began to
lengthen uncomfortably. Neither Ali nor Valenti knew quite how
to begin, wllile Bannon stood back, just along for the ride.

"Do you all drink tea?" Lewis asked suddenly. After nods all
around, he smiled. "WeU, then why don't we step inside while I
put the kettle on and we can find out what brought the three of
you here today."

He moved to the front door as he spoke, ushering them aU
inside. Ali took Valenti's free hand as they went through the
door, her moutb shaping a silent "Wow" as she took in the walls
of books.

"How long have you lived here, Mr. Datchery?" Valentj
asked.

"A very long time. And please-call me Lewis. We don't
stand much on fonnality here."

He busied himself, filling a kettle from a water container,
checking the stove for fuel, then setting the kettle on top. Adding
another log to the stove, he sat down at the table and waved them
aU to seats

"So what does bring you to New Wolding?" he asked.

"Well, that~s kind of hard to explain," Valenti said. He paused
to think about where he wanted the conversation to go, then decided
to take a different tack. "You're sort of off the beaten path
here, aren't you?"

Lewis nodded. "We don't have much commerce with the outside
world. ~Ve grow what foodstuffs we need and the few staples
we require beyond that are brought to us by the Gypsies."

Valenti thought of the touring car and its occupants. That explained
the ~vay they'd looked. He should have known. He'd run
into Gypsies in New York, but he'd just never put it all together.

"Why?" be asked then.

Lewis looked puzzled. "Why what?"

"Well, what're you doing here? Are you folks, you know,
Mormons or Amish or something like that? I mean, do you live
here because of . . . religious differences or. . ." His voice trailed
off as he realized what he sounded like. "Look. I'm sorry. I don't
mean to come off all heavy with the questions or anything. I
know it's none of our business what you're doing here, but living
close like we do-like Ali and I do, anyway-we've been hearing
things and. . ." How did he explain the stag? "It's the music,
you know what I'm trying to say? We hear it and it makes . . . it

{il~liNMAN-11-t

\..
~:

.

:

.,(

~.)
::

:

.

.
151

makes a difference. So we're curious about it-like where it's
coming from, who's making it, and why. Mostly why."

Lewis smiled. The kettle began to rattle on the stove and he
glanced at Ali. "Would you mind seeing to the tea?" he asked.

"I'll get it," Bannon said.

"Thank you." Lewis regarded Valenti and Ali. "It's a long and
not altogether interesting story what we're doing here. We are
most of us originally from Wealdborough in England, from a
small village named Wolding for Wold Hill, which stands above
the village. Around the turn of the century, we turned our backs
on what was then the mod~ern world and returned to. . .older
ways, including older ways of worship.

"It was Tommy's piping that was the initial catalyst for the
change-not the Tommy that pipes for us now, but his grandfather.
Again, our only contact with the outside world was with the
Travellers-the Gypsies-and it was they who told us about the
great forests of this continent.

"A number of us wanted to come here. We felt that in this land
we would be closer to the mystery that the pipes called up, and so
we came, a dozen families in all, to build a place for ourselves
here. We named it New Wolding, to remind us of the land that we
had left behind, and here we have lived ever since."

Bannon rolled his eyes, but Valenti and Ali leaned closer to
the old man.

"What is this . . . mystery that you're talking about?" Valenti
asked.

"In Gaul and Britain, he was given the name Cernunnos. In
Wales, he was sometimes called Mabon. The Germanic people
knew him as Uller, the winter bowman. The Greeks and Romans
knew him in various guises: as Apollo and Orion; the Egyptians
as Amen-Ra; the Hindus as Surya. He appears in the bible as
Nimrod-Genesis describing him as a 'mighty hunter before the
Lord'. He is a solar god, a huntsman and the lord of animals, and
he has been both the pursuer with his own pack of hounds, as
well as the pursued, with the hounds chasing him.

"The various descriptions of him become confusing when you
try to put them all together, but I suppose that is a part of his
mystery-just as the moon's White Goddess has her own secrets.
I like to think of him as the Green Man, an earthier view of the
legendary Robin Hood-a Trickster figure, if you will-but I
think the name that best sums him up is Pan."

There was a moment's silence as they all digested that. Ali
and Valenti remained fascinated. By the stove, Bannon shook his

a152

Charles de Llnt

head. Tony was taking all this too seriously. And talking the
way he did in front of the kid who . . . well, sure, she was a
good kid

but come on . . .

Bannon wondered when was the last time that Mario had
spent some time with Tony Valenti. Everything Bannon had
ever heard about the man was good, but maybe, since the
Magaddinos got on his case, something had happened to him
so that he wasn't operating with quite a full load anymore. The
way he just sat there, taking in all this bullshit about gods . . .

"But you said he was a sun god," Ali said. She knew her
mythologies, even if the others didn't. "That the Greeks knew
him as Apollo and Orion. Wasn't Pan a Greek god, too?"

Lewis nodded. "I told you that it becomes confusing. But
the reason that Pan serves best, I think, is that he is so
adaptable. There is something of Pan in each of the gods I
named. And he has always been a reflection of what one brings
to him."

"I don't understand," Ali said.

"I don't like to throw semantics around, Ali, but if you did
understand, he wouldn't be a mystery."

"Yes, but-"

"That's what the native people of this land call the little
spirits of the wood-manitous. Little mysteries. And Kitche
Manitou is the Great Mystery."

"But Pan. . ." Ali frowned. "You said he's a reflection . . ."

"That is his Trickster aspect. He becomes what you bring to
him. If you approach him with fear, he fills vou with panic."
Lewis smiled as he used the word. "If you approach him with
lust, he appears as a lecherous satyr. If you approach him
reverently, he becomes a majestic figure. If you approach him
with evil, he appears as a demonic figure."

"You mean like Satan?"

"Exactly. The Christians weren't ~upid. They borrowed what
they could, from wherever it would be useful. They frowned on
merriment and dancing, so they made Lucifer over in the shape
of the Pagan Pan who embodied-at least for them-all that
they stood against. But what cat~ you expect from a religion
that is based on so much suffering? It's little wonder that faerie
couldn't abide the sight of their crucifix with the son of their
god nailed to it. Did you know that the cross originally stood
for the Tree of Life-for nourishment and life-giving? They
turned it ~nto a symbol of death."

Ali shook her head. .`It doesn't stand for death-it stands
for rebirth. Christ died so that our souls could be saved."

r

.
)

::
.

GREEN~

153

"But it is stiD a symbol of suffering. A symbol that man must
suffer the trials of this world before he can reap the benefits of
the one thereafter. In Heaven. I don't perceive life as something
that must be suffered tbrough for some dubious reward in the
hereafter. Life can be and should be a joy right here and now!"

"It just means you're supposed to be a good person," Ali
said.

"I can agree with being a good person, but Christianity
doesn't espouse that-at least not by its actions. Are you a
ChristianT'

"Yes. WeD, that is, I don't go to church, but I believe in God,
I guess. . ."

"We're getting a little off-track here," Valenti said.

No kidding? Bannon thought. It wouldn't surprise hira if
what they'd stumbled onto here was some out-of-the-way
asylum for the terminally strange.

"Just what exactly is it that's running out there in the
woodsT' Valenti wanted to know. "Pan? The devil? WhatT'

"We saw him as a stag," Ali added. "Not as a goatman."

"He's been kn4wn to wear both those manifestations . . . and
many more," Lewis explained. "And as I said before, I prefer to
think of him as the Green Man-a brown-skinned man, tall and
antlacd, wearing a mantle of green leaves."

"But what does he dot' Valenti asked.

"He doesn't do anything. He simply is. We are the ones that
do, depending on our nature."

Valenti studied the old man. "And you folks worship himT"

"Not in the way you mean the word." He looked them ova,
one by one. "What you should do," he said finally, "is stay
here this evening. C4me to the stone with us. Hear Tommy's
piping close at hand. Follow the steps of the dance. Perhaps
the mystay will manifest, perhaps not. But you'll be closer to
understanding then."

There was a long moment's silence.

"My mom's not going to be back till late," Ali reminded
Valenti.

He nodded. He didn't want to say it out loud, but what he
was worqing about was that maybe this was some kind of a cult
and he didn't want Ali mixed up in it. On the other hand, he'd
heard the music, and whatever else it was, it wasn't evil. It
wasn't wrong. The mystery is what you bring to it, he thought,
repeating what the old man had told them. What the hell did
that mean? He loolred over at Bannon, wh4 was finishing up
with the tea, pour

154 Chules de LL'*

ing them each a mug. Bannon met Vdend's gaze but gave him n~7
indicadon of what he thought.

"Okay," Valend said. "We'll stay and check it out. Why notT' ~5

"Why not indeedT' Lewis said and smiled.

Valend looked sharply at him, trying to read something in the
old man's features, in his eyes. Lewis returned his gaze. Humor ;
crinkled his face with laugh lines, but it wasn't a mocking humor.

Valend wasn't sure what it was. It made him feel a little strange, t$.
one step out of kilter, like he did when he listened to the music. It

wasn't unpleasant, he just didn't feel in control.

At home, sitting on his steps, he didn't mind that feeling. It
promised him things-solace, peace of mind. Here it would be
sharper. Here he wouldn't be able to just shut it off and walk
back into his house. He heard a pitter-patter of rain on the roof
and realized that the storm had finally come.

"Is the rain going to postpone this . . . whatever it is tonightT'

"The rain will stop before too long," Lewis said with the authority
of one who lived more by the weather than by a watch on
his wrist. "You'll see."

"Here," Bannon said, putting a mug in front of Valend. "Have
some tea." His eyes said, yoq and me, we've got to talk.

Valend got up and went back to the stove with Bannon as
Lewis began to show Ali around the bootcases. "What's the
problem?" he asked in a low voice.

"This is crazy-you know that? Gods running around the
woods and all this shit. The only thing we've got to worry about
out here is the Don's boys tracking us down."

Valenti glanced over at Ali. She looked eager and ready for
the evening, excitement barely under control.

"I know this doesn't mean anyt~ng to you," he said, "but it's
something we've got to look into. It's important for us-Ali and
me."

"And that's another thing," Bannon said. "I tell you, you're
too free and easy in front of this kid. You've got real problems,
Tony, and you're not helping yourself going on nature hikes while
Magaddino has all the dme in the woM to set things up out there
where it counts."

Valenti shook his head. "I know what I'm doing," he said.
And added, I hope, to himself. "Besides, you think any of Magaddino'
s people are going to find us back here in the bush?
We're probably in the safest place we could be right now."

r             GREENM~ 155

"lust saying this whole village doesn't go weird on us and try
to take us down."

Valenti touched the gun in his pocket. "We'll just keep our
eyes open going in," he said. "That's all."

Bannon sighed. "You're the boss."

"It's going to be okay," Valenti said. He picked up a tea mug
and brought it over to Ali, who'd returned to the table. "Salute,"
he said, raising his mug to her

Ali grinned at him and took a sip from her own.

1
l

:

.
1~

F
E

CHAPTER EIGHT

Earl watched Fingers take the weapons out of the suitcase, one by
one, and lay them on the bed. He glanced at Louie, standing by
the window, then back at Fingers. What they had here was a
fucking arsenal. His man hadn't believed it when Earl had put the
order in earlier today. "What're you going to do with all this?"
the man had asked. "Start a war?" Earl had simply shaken his
head, unsure.

He still wasn't sure. He could understand the handguns-anything
had more punch than those two little peashooters that Fucceri
and Maita had smuggled in through customs. It was the
heavy-duty artillery that had him puzzled. A 9mm Ingram submachine
gun. A .30 caliber Browning automatic rifle. A sawedoff
shotgun. An auto-reload shotgun. Together with the pair of
Smith & Wesson .38s, they really did have enough here to set up
their own army.

"You figure we'll be needing all this?" he asked.

Louie fumed from the window. "It's nice to be prepared " he
said. "What we'd like is to knock him down a flight of stairs run
his car off the road-something simple. But if it comes right
down to it, I'm ready to shoot him into little pieces. Be my
pleasure."

Fingers grinned. He was taking apart one of the .38s. When
he got back to what he was doing, the grin was replaced with a
frown. "You got burned," he said as he sighted down the barrel.

"What do you mean, I got burned?"

"Check the calibration on this-it's going to throw off your
shot. The breech is worn, too." He spun the cylinder and shook
his head. "I hope the rest of these are in better condition."

"Hey, what do you expect on short notice? This isn't the U.S.
of A., pal. We got handgun laws here like you wouldn't believe."

"I'm familiar with Canadian regulations," Fingers said.

"I'll bet you are."

156

GREENMAN1tE

157

"Okay," Louie said. "Let's take it easy. Earl here's doing the
best he can for us, Fingers. Aren't you, Earl?"

"You bet," Earl said. What a pair of fucking monkeys. "So are
we hitting Valenti tonight, or what?"

"The way I figure it," Louie said, "if he's not gone, he's going
to be expecting us tonight or tomorrow, so what we're going to
do is lay off for a couple of days. That give us a chance to set
things up right."

"What if it's taking him a couple of days to get out of there?"
Earl asked. He waved a hand at the weapons on the bed. "With
all that shit in our hands, he won~t be going nowhere if we hit
him now. Wait too long, and all you've got is an empty house."

Lou'-e shook his head. "If he's going, he's gone now. Maybe
we'll take a quick spin round there later tonight-check it out.
But if he's there' he'll be holing up tight. The thing we got to do
then is keep him on edge. He'll be sitting in there, waiting for us,
knowing he fucked up, knowing we're coming. I don't care how
cool he used to be, he's carrying lead in his leg now and he's lost
his edge. The man just won't be able to move fast."

"Yeah, but. . ."

"Look," Louie said. "We're doing this my way and we're
doing this right. Any dumb ass could blow his ass off. I want him
taken out clean. So clean, the police won't be looking for anybody
even when they figure out who he really is."

"Okay," Earl said. "You're calling the shots."

Louie nodded. He didn't bother explaining that he'd already
tried the frontal approach on Valenti that time in Malta-hit him
two, maybe three times, and the guy still disappeared like a
ghost. It hadn't done a whole lot for Louie's rep. So this time he
wanted it to be perfectly planned. He wanted to work in so close
that he could tap Tony on the shoulder just before they blew him
away. If they blew him away.

Louie also liked the idea of taking Tony out without any evidence
that it was a hit. In a way, Tony was an example. For two
years or better he'd been thumbing his nose at thefratellanza and
getting away with it. That wasn't good for business. Other people
might think they could get away with it, too. But if he took Tony
out without making it look like a hit and let the word go out that
Louie Fucceri had been in the area, it wouldn't take too long for
those who had to know to put two and two together.

It made a nice example. Told them Louie Fucceri worked
clean, and he always finished a job he started. That had been one

158 Charles de Lint

of Tony's own specialides, before he fucked up. Louie liked the ù- ,
idea of using it on him.

"So who's goinB to check the place out tonight?" Earl asked.

"We'll work that our later." Louie paused as a thought came to
him. "What happened to the guy you were with last night? Did he
know we were flying in?"

~.

Earl shook his head. "He doesn't know click about you being ~,0:

here. He got hurt last night so I left him at a friend's place."    ~
"
What kind of place?"
"A cottage-maybe a twenty-minute drive from Valend's."

"Maybe we should work out of there-what do you think?" :~

Earl nodded. "Sure. But you'll have to ditch those suits. Peo

ple up here don't wear many three-pieces in cottage country."  ~›

"That's not a problem," Louie said. Though Earl was. He was
gethng on Louie's nerves. Maybe when this Colombian deal that

Earl was setting up was done . . . maybe the padrone would give     ~
Earl to Louie as a favor.   ~ 3

';I'm going to enjoy seeing you guys in T-shirts and cut-offs,"

"You talk too much," Fingers told him.

"Is that true?" Earl asked Louie.

Broadway Joe's son just smiled.

Late Monday afternoon, a black van, splattered with mud,
pulled over to the side of the road just before the turn-off to Tony
Valenti's property. The driver carefully checked the road bbth
ways to make sure he was alone, then backed the van off the
road.

The bed of the van rode high and there was no ditch, so the
driver had little trouble squeezing his vehicle in among the
trees. Branches scraped its sides and it drove right over saplings.
When he got it far enough from the road, the driver
killed the engine and disembarked. He moved quickly forward
and began to straighten saplings ~at hadn't sprung back on
their own, moving on to do the same with the grass and
weeds. These latter didn't fare quite as well as did the more
resilient saplings, but by the time the man had brushed away
the van's tracks from tbe mud on the side of the road and had
thmwn a camouflage .~et over the van itself, the vehicle was
barely visible from the road.

The man stood for a few moments in the misting rain, regarding
his handiwork. He had short dark hair and a day's worth of
salt and pepper stubble on his cheeks and chin. His complexion

:~.

F
was dar}, made more so by his black water-repellent clothing and
the shadows of the trees.

Going back into the van, he returned a moment later with a

.self cocking commando crossbow in his hands. It was fitted with

a scope that he checked out, sighting it on a nearby blackbW
taking shelter in a cedar from the rain. The scope brought the bW
in stardingly close.

"Bang," tbe man said.

Laying the cmssbow down for a moment, he attached a belt
around his waist. A small quiver of crossbow bolts hung from it.
Then he picked up his weapon bnce more and slipped off into the
woods, moving back toward Tony Valenti's house. His passage
was silent in tbe wet forest.

~A~ ~ Lt

15V

CHA~ER NINE

"You understand what the old man was talking about in there?Valenti
asked Ali.

The two of them were sitting on the top step of the stairs going
into the cabin, watching the rain. A small overhanging roof kept
them dry. Inside the cabin, Bannon was reading while the old
man sat at the table, doing what, Valenti didn't know. He just sat
there. Thinking maybe. Valenti and Ali had come out to get a
breath of air.

"How's your leg?" Ali asked.

"It's okay. It always aches a bit in this kind of weather." He
turned to look at her. "You didn't answer my question."

Ali glanced at him. "Jeez, Tony. I'm just a kid. What do I
know about this kind of stuff?"

"Don't give me that "

"Okay." She spent a moment picking at a thread on her jeans,
then looked out into the rain. '.The things he was saying confused
me. I mean, all these old gods he was naming-some of them
are sun gods, some of them are sort of hunter figures, some are a
bit of both. But they come from all different kinds of mythologies
and cultures."

"You figure they can't all be the same?"

Ali shrugged. "I don't know enough about it. I really am just a
kid, Tony. The kind of stuff Mr. Datchery talks about-that's for
scholars to figure out."

"Yeah, but you've read a lot. You're smart."

"And you're notT'

"I'm just a dumb Italian," Valenti replied, mimicking her
"What do I knowT'

"Okay. I get the point already."

"So what do you think?"

"Well, I know there are $imilarities all around the world. And
when it comes to Christianity-well, they did borrow a lot from
other cultures. Easter comes around the same time as the vernal

160

GREEN~T~

GREEN~T   ~161

8;   equinox-that's the Spring equinox when day and night are the
~same length-and even the whole business with Easter eggs is
-   ~based on pagan fiertility rites. In fxt, even Christ's being cruci-'
fied has parallels in other cultures. The Norse god Baldur was

nailed to a tree as well."

"You're kidding."

Ali shook her bead. "So I understand what Mr. Datchery was
getting at, but at the same time I find it confumng. And then . . ."
She loolced at Valenti. "Then there's what I feel inside. About the
music and the stag. When I think about just that, not about things
bhat I've read or stuff that you learain church, then it all starts to
make perfect sense. Maybe I'm going a little crazy-I don't
know." ~

"I don't think so," Valenti said. "I ga the same feeling. And
I've been hearing that music a whole lot longer than you have.
But then I tallc to Tom and he just says it's all a load of crap snd
that mskes sense, too. I mean, how can any of that stuff Datchery'
s talking about be realT'

Ali sighed. "I don't know. What do you think'll happen at this
stone tonightT'

"I'm still trvine to fieure that out."

"You don't think these people belong to a. . . well, a cult or
somethingT'

Valenti shrugged. "The thought's crossed my mind."

"My mom used to know this guy who claimed he was a witch
-not like riding a broomstick and casting spells and stuff li}e
that, but it was some kind of religion. I talked with him about it a
couple of times, but I was pretty young and I didn't understand a
lot of what he was saying. Then Mom got mad 'cause he was
telling me all this stuff."

"What I`ind of stuffT'

"Well,)' Ali said. "I read up on it after he stopped coming
around-Mom didn't make him too welcome. Anyway, one
thing I remember is that they had two gods instead of one-thc

n Moon Goddess and her consort, the Horned Man-and
that's . . ."
~i-"Just like what we've got going on here."
'~r so Mr. Datchery says."
"But we've seen the stag, Ali. We've heard the music. And
ordinary deer don't come to people's rescue like some kind of
cavalry-not like the stag did that night."
Ali nodded. "Yeah. Only why did he do thatT'

a162 Cl~les de ~*

"That's the tbing, isn't it?" Valend said. "Maybe we'll find
out tonight."

"I suppose." Ali thought about it. She wanted to go to the
stone tonight-to hear the music right up close, to see what
Lewis Datchery was talking about, but at the same time she
found the whole idea a little scary. At least Tony was going to
be there. And Tom. They'd make sure that nothing happened to
her. Only, what if whatever took place happened inside her?
The music hadn't made her look or talk any different, but ever
since she'd first heard it, she'd felt different inside. She
wondered if Mally would be there tonight, then realized that
that was something else they hadn't talked to Lewis about.

"Rain's letting up," Tony said. "lust like the old man said it
would."

"Tony " Ali said. "We never asked him about Mally."

"That s right. We never did."

"She says she's always been here," Lewis said, "and while
she seems to know the mystery better than any of us, it doesn't
affect her the way it does us."

"She told me she was a secret," Ali said

Lewis nodded. "The Moon's secret-but I don't rightly
know what she means by that."

They were all sitting around the table. Bannon had a poetry
collection of Padraic Colum open in front of him and was
obviously more taken by the book's contents than their
conversation. Glancing at him, Ali wondered at the incongruity
of someone involved in Tony's old business being interested in
early twentieth century Irish poetry.

"You have to understand," Lewis went on, "that Mally's as
much a riddle to me as she is to you. I've known her a great deal
longer, of course, but while she lets enticing snippets fall my
way during our conversations, she's never really come out and
spoken plainly to me about anything."

"I know that feeling from just seeing her a couple of times,"
Ali said.

Lewis smiled. "And yet I trust her. She's been very good to
me-kept me company ~ugh many an evening. She likes to
have me read to her and brings me the odd book from time to
time that she 'finds."'

"She brought you all of these?" Bannon asked, looking up
from his book.

"Oh, no," Lewis said. "But some of them. Others my friend

GREENMANTLE

.:....
ù ~

163

Jango searched out and brought me-knowing my interest in
such things. The greater portion of them, however, made up the
library of the man who built the house you now live in, Ali."

She remembered something Mally had told her. 'Yhe 'dark
man'?"

Lewis nodded. "That's what Mally calls him. His real name
was Ackerly Perkin. He left this area well over fifty years ago."

"Mally . . . she's been around that long?" Ali asked.

"I've known her that long. I have the feeling that she's been
around forever."

"But she looks my age." Ali couldn't believe the wild girl
was fifty years old, if not older.

"She hasn't aged a day since the first dme I met her," Lewis
sa~d.

'Yhat's not possible," Ali said.

Sdll looking up from his book, Bannon nodded in agreement.

'Yhere's a great deal about Mally that doesn't seem possible,
I'm afraid," Lewis told them.

"What about this Perkin guy?" Valenti asked. He was
gethng uncomfortable with the directdon the conversation was
going. Unlike Bannon, he'd heard the piping and seen the stag,
so he knew that there was something odd going on around
here. But people didn't just stop growing older. Not unless
they'd died. "What's the story on him? And why does Mally
call him a dark man?"

I   "She saw him as something dangerous," Lewis said, "though

I'm not sure what the exact danger he represented was. Either he
was capable of showing the mystery to be an illusion-which
would; you'll have to agree, take a great deal away from its
powa to move our spirits-or the mystery was real, but Perkin
was capable of creadng illusions that could chase the mystery
across the world like the legendary Wild Hunt chased the souls
of
the dead. What's even more curious, however, is that there was
another Perkin in Wealdborough who was-in his own way-as
mysterious as Ackerly Perlcin as well as his exact opposite.
We're
back to illusions again-the original Perkin in England had
none, while Ackerly Perkin had too many."

He regarded the confused looks on the faces of his guests
and shrugged apologedcally. "I'm sorry if I'm not explaining this
vay well, but the whole problem has been a source of much
personal confusion and soul-searching and I still don't quite
have it set in my own mind. My research has led me down too
many

164 Charles de Lint

false trails-so many, in fact, that I'm not quite sure myself as to
which are the illusions and which not."

"You mean the stag's not real?" Valenti asked.

"He seems very real," Lewis said.

Valenti thought about it attacking Shaw's car last night. "I'D
say."

"But something pursues the stag-and that's what confuses
me the most at the present time. This Hunt-is it a natural phenomenon?
By which I mean; if the stag exists as a mytlucal
being, does it always follow that the Hunt will pursue it? Or was
the Hunt created out of Ackerly Perkin's illusions and set upon
the stag's trail? Or is it my own questioning as to what exactly the
stag is that has set the hounds upon it-are the hounds my ques
"
I thought the stag was the huntsman " Ali said.

"Some cultures have depicted him so " Lewis replied.

Valenti remembered what he'd seen the first night he saw the
stag. There'd been shapes following it, looking first like hounds,
then like monks or priest,s.... "Why's it so important to figure
this all out?" he asked. "I mean, either something's real, or it's
not-right?"

"But it's not so simple as that," Lewis said. "We've contained
the mystery to some degree-kept it from roaming beyond the
confines of these forests, because if it was to run free in the
world..." He paused, looking for a way to phrase what he
wanted to say. '@There's too much wrong in the world now," he
said finally. "And if you remember what I said about the mystery
reflecting what it finds in the hearts of those who come into
contact with it...."

There was a moment's silence as his guests followed his train
of thought.

"Boom," Valenti said.

Ali shook her head. "l can't accept that. What if you're
wrong, Mr. Datchery? What if the stag's presence would be
enough to just mellow everyone out?"

"There is no power in the world, not that of any religion's god
or mystery, that can change-people from being what they are. The
world's history-what little we have recorded of it-proves that
beyond a doubt."

"But-"

"And if you need further proof," Lewis continued without
lett~ng Ali speak, "then remember this: The mystery once had

~ - ~
., _

I                    ~GREENM~1    ~165

. ~
, ~
'1,~
.;
..,:

: .

,

:4
Ji ~
L
~ ,l,
~:
,t

free run of the world. Were there no more wars? Did people help
each other in times of famine or plague?."

"So you have to keep it trapped?" Bannon asked, interested

despite himself.

"A better way to put it would be that we're keeping him
alive," Lewis said. "He wouldn't survive very long in the greater
world by himself. Unfortunately, our numbers have dwindled
here in New Wolding. We are no longer enough to keep him here.
The mystery speaks through Tommy's music and reaches out farther
and farther each time it sounds. The mystery needs the rebounding
echoes that come when th~e music touches the soul of a
man or a woman and then retums to him. The echoes that come
back to him now aren't always so good. They make the mystery
wilder, driving him further from his aspect of the Green Man and
more to that of a dumb beast. And at the same time, the Hunt
grows stronger, feeding on those echoes. It becomes a downward
spiral.... "

"Maybe it's time for him to go," Ali said. "You know. The
circle turns and all that? Maybe he's got to go, so that he can
come back stronger."

"That's the Christian in you talking. The miracle of Christ's
rising from the dead and His subsequent ascension into Heaven."

Ali shook her head. "I think it's more pagan," she said with a
small smile. "I mean, reincarnation and that sort of thing."

"I think I'm getting a headache from all of this," Valenti said.
"The more you talk, the more confused I get."

"My own years of research and study have left me no better
off," Lewis replied. "Sometimes I think that only Mally has the
right of it. She says to just let things flow. What comes will
come."

"She seems more active than that to me," Ali said.

Lewis smiled. "Well, she also says that it's better to do and
experience, than to peck and worry at the workings of a thing."

"There's just no straight answer, is there?" Valenti said.

"Wait until tonight," Lewis said. "Maybe you'll find an answer."

"
Will Mally be there?" Ali asked.

"Perhaps. She doesn't always go."

"Whatever happened to Ackerly Perkin? Bannon asked.

"The world went to war and he went to experience it." Lewis
shook his head. "We've never heard from him again."

-"What about the other Perkin?" Ali asked. '1he one in England.
9"

166 Charles de Lint

Lewis sighed. "I don't know. It's getting late. Perhaps we
should have some dinner and save the rest of your questions for
another time. Wait until after tonight."

"Okay," Ali said. "Do you want some help with dinner?"

"I'd like that very much," Lewis said.

Valenti glanced at Bannon, but Bannon merely returned to his
book as Lewis and Ali began to make a salad. Lewis already had
a stew on and there was freshly raised dough ready to go into the
oven. As the scent of baking bread filled the cabin Valenti returned
to the door and studied the view.

Somewhere up on that hill, in among the wet trees, that was
where the stone was. Somewhere in the forest, the mystery was
walking . . . Iike a stag, or a goatman, or a man with antlers and a
mantle of green leaves. Valenti wondered for a moment, before
he went back to sit at the table: Did the mystery ever appear as a
wild-haired girl with burrs and twigs in her curls who called
herself Mally?- Or maybe as an old man who lived by himself in a
cabin in the forest, on the edge of a village that wasn't marked on
any map?

Just what the hell were they going to find out tonight? He
glanced at Ali, who was happily chopping up cabbage and carrots
for the salad. Maybe coming out here today hadn't been.such a
good idea after all. If anything happened to her. . . Fercrissakes,
he told himself. Don't even think about that.

CHAPTER TEN

By six o'clock Monday evening Howie came to the conclusio_
that Earl had dumped him. He feit a curious mixture of relief anc
regret. On the one hand, this was going to be the big score. Ear
wanted to just work his way deeper and deeper into the biS
money rackets, but Howie hadn't quite decided what he we.
going to do with the cut Earl had promised him. All he knew we,
that for the first time in his life, he was going to have enougt
money to do what he wanted for a change. People were going tc
listen to what he had to say. Women were going to want him ir
their pants.

The thing that balanced all that slipping away was the fact the;
he wouldn't be around Earl anymore. Earl with his crazy eyes
Earl who, if you said the wrong thing maybe, would just as soor
blow you away as not. Howie didn't dislike Earl, but he'c
learned to be more than a little afraid of him. His relationshiF
with Earl had become a little like a big cat act in the circus.
except the lion was in charge, and if it jumped through a hoop, i'
was only because it wanted to.

Howie shifted uncomfortably in his deck chair. What the fuel:
was he going to do now? How long were Lisa and Sherry goin~
to take care of him before they, too, picked up on the fact the:
Earl probably wasn't coming back to collect him? As thougt
summoned by his thoughts the screen door banged open behinc
him and the women joined him on the porch. Lisa had a joinburning
between her fingers.

"Want a tokeT' she asked, offering it to him.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

"We," Sherry announced, "have got the munchies. What dc
you say to pizza?"

Howie's little fantasy of the two women both going down or
him hadn't come about, but Sherry kept giving him considerin~
glances like she was interested in him. It didn't make sense tc
Howie-women never wanted him unless they were going to ge

167

168 Charles de LInt

something out of it-but he sure wasn't going to complain if
something started. He found himself wishing that Lisa would
malce herself scarce.

"Pizza?" he said. "Sounds good."

"So what don't you want on yoursT' Sherry asked him.

'.The works."

Sherry giggled. "Right. you don't want anythiog on yours."

"No, no. I meant-"

Howie never finished as the two of them exploded with laughter.
Sherry and Lisa had been smoking all afternoon and were
both flying high. Howie had smoked about one joint for every
three of theirs-enough to keep a buzz on and dull the ache from
his shoulder, but not too much so that Earl would come back and
find him blasted. He grinned at the women now and took a long
toke, holdiog the marijusoa smoke deep io his lungs. Fuck Earl.
He'd waited around for Earl long enough.

"Okay," Sherry said when she caught her breath. '~he works
for you, Howie." She started to giggle again but held it io.

"I've got it," Lisa said. "We'll get one large-mushrooms and
greco peppers on half, the other half with the works-and one
small ham and pioeapple." She retrieved her joiot from Howie.
"Aoybody waot to come along for the ride?"

Howie glanced at Sherry. She gave him a look that made him
feel a little weak-koeed, so he shook his head.

"Okay. I'll be back in half hour or so. Don't get ioto trouble,
kids."

When Lisa was gone, Sherry koelt dowo beside Howie's deck
chair. "You're a funoy kiod of a guy, Howie," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeahT"

'4Mmmm. You're quiet-but nice quiet, not creepy quiet, you
l~now? How's your shoulderT'

"It's okay. Pretty good, consider~g,"

She leveed forward, restiog her arms on the chair by his leg.
"You koow what I think would be really therapeuticT' she aslced.
She reached out with one hand and rao her fingers aloog his
thigh. Even through his jeaos he could feel each individual nail.
"Can't you even guessT'

Howie shook his head. He didn't want to break the spell.
Christ, he thought. This can't be happening to me.

"Well, speaking as your personal doctor," Sherry said, "I
think. .." She paused and started to pull down his zipper, slipping
her hand in to grasp his hardening penis. "I think you need a

GREENMANhE

169

little therapeutic loving-just to give you back your will to live.
What do you think?"

Howie swallowed and nodded.

"Of course," Sherry said as she lowered her head, "this means
you're going to owe me, and I'll warn you right now, I always
collect on my debts.... "

Howie leaned back in the deck chair. Maybe she was feeling
sorry for him, maybe she liked him, maybe she was just high-
he didn't care which. He just couldn't believe this was happening.
He didn't want it to ever stop.

Two empty pizza boxes lay on the ground. Nursing beers and
sharing a joint, the three of them watched the dusk settle on
Calabogie Lake. Howie was just flying. He kept glancing at
Sherry, remembering, then looking away. The twilight reminded

him of last night, chasing Earl's kid and the stag and everything,
but mostly the music.

"The guy who owns this place," he began.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Steve. When's he coming back?"

"I don't think he's coming back tonight," Sherry said, looking
to Lisa for confirmation.

Lisa shook her head. "He's got something up tonight-him
and Max. Pam said she might be coming by later with Eric. He's
got some dynamite weed that he scored off of lohnnie Too-Bad
-do you know him? He's one of those Rastamen with the snakey
hair."

"I know a couple of those guys in T.O.," Howie said. "But I
was thinking, do you girls want to go for a drive?"

Lisa smiled. "To see your big buck deer?"

"How'd you know that I was talking about that?"

"I know all and see all," Lisa replied. Sherry started humming
the theme to The Twilight Zone and all three of them laughed.

"But I'm serious," Howie said after a few moments. "I don't
know if we'll see the buck~hrist, I don't know if I want to see
that sucker again-but that music. It was something. It was
really something."

Sherry and Lisa exchanged glances.

I           "Why not?" Sherry said.
~ILisa grinned. "Sure. Why not? It'll be good for a laugh."
t'A half hour later they were on the road to Lanark, Howie

concentrating on where to turn off. He was flying high, but he
was pretty sure he could find the place again. They hit a bump

170

Charles de Lint

that he felt in his shoulder and he reached for the joint that was
smoldering between Sheny's fingers. A couple more tokes
wouldn't hurt at all. They missed the turn-off and ended up in
Lanark. It was almost full night by the time they reached it again,
coming from the south this time so that Howie could recognize
the landmarks.
"
This is it," he said. '~Turn here." He smiled at Sherry sitting
beside him. "You're going to love this " he added.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world,' Lisa said with mock seriousness,
but Sherry just smiled back at him.

Christ, Howie thought. He didn't know what he was doing
but he was sure doing it right, whatever the hell it was.

,

:

. ~

!

1
CHAPTER ELEVEN

As dusk drew its veil across the day Lewis led his guests outside.
None of them spoke. Mosquitos hummed by their ears. The twilight
air was heavy with the scents of meadow and forest. The
chorus of frogs and cheeping crickets was occasionally punctuated
by the sudden whirring sound of a June bug.

Valenti began to fidget as it grew darker. He leaned heavily on
his cane, wondering again at how smart they were being by going
through with this. The coming of night had unsettled something
in his soul-an anticipation of the piping, but also a vague uneasiness
at what might be revealed tonight.

When he thought about what Lewis had said-how the mystery
reflected what you brought to it-his uneasiness grew.
Whatever it was going to find inside him, it wasn't going to be
peaceful. He'd been through too much. He had too much crap
kicking around inside him. The scars that his years in fiatellanza
had left him weren't healed yet. They might never be healed. Not
when he had to live with an armory in his home and an automatic
in his jacket pocket.

He touched the gun's cold metal, then withdrew his hand from
his pocket. He wished he hadn't brought it, but he was comforted
by its presence all the same.

"It's an old stone," Lewis said suddenly. His voice was soft,
but it startled them all in the quiet of the dusk. "It's been here for
longer than we've lived in this land-maybe longer than the
Native Peoples have been here, too. It's not like any stone in the
area. What it's doing here, not even Ackerly Perkin knew. Maybe
the Vikings who the historians now admit were here before Columbus-
maybe they raised it to Thor or Odin. Maybe it was
done by Celts. They were supposed to be here around that time,
too. Or maybe it was raised by some people that came before
either of them, that came before the Native Peoples as well. I
don't suppose we'll ever know."

"Another mystery," Bannon said.

171

172

Charles de Lint

Lewis nodded. "Or part of the same one."

"The Indians had stone works," Ali said. "I've read about
them-big stone circles and standing stones."

"But not this far north," Bannon said. "And it still hasn't been
proven that they actually constructed them."

Both Ali and Valenti regarded him with new consideration.
They really didn't know much about him, Valenti thought.

"That's true," Lewis said. "But this stone is different. You'll
see."

Before they could talk any more about it, there was movement
on the track leading up to the stone. A wolfish-looking dog gamboled
by, trotting up the path, pausing to smell something before
racing back to make sure that its master was following, then
taking off again. Lewis's guests studied the boy that followed the
dog. In the growing darkness they could only make out general
details. He was plump-faced with an unruly thatch of hair. He
ambled by them, obviously in no hurry to get to wherever it was
that he was going. When he glanced at the four of them standing
in front of Lewis's cabin, Ali nudged Valenti with her elbow.

"That's the boy from the garden," she whispered.

Valenti nodded. He'd recognized him as well.

"His name is Tommy Duffin," Lewis said.

"Tommy. . .?" Ali frowned. "You mean the one who plays the
pipes?"

When Lewis nodded, she tried to get a better look at the boy,
but he was already too far up the track. He didn't seem much
older than she was, Ali thought. And from what she remembered
of him earlier this afternoon, he didn't seem to be exactly the
brightest of people. Or at least not the friendliest. He was the one
that made the uncanny music?

"He doesn't. . . you know. . ." Ali hesitated, not really knowing
how to say what she wanted without it coming out all wrong.

"He doesn't seem like much," ~vis said for her. "I know. It's
a curious thing. I've never understood why it's always been one
of the Duffins who's been the piper. It's just another facet of
the-" he glanced at Bannon "-mystery, I suppose. But Tommy
changes when he begins to lip the reeds. His eyes lose their
vacant look, his features seem to become thinner, more intense.
It's something like the village itself. There's something about
it:. . . some air that keeps strangers away. They might be walking
along a direct line that would take them straight through New
Wolding, but somehow their feet are led astray and they never
quite reach us."

GREEN~I~

173

"We got here," Valend said.

"Ah, yes. But you've heard the music."

"What about aerial photography?" Bannon asked.

Lewis looked confused.

"Photographs," Bannon explained. "Taken from airplaces."
He pointed to the sky. "When they were photographing this area
for regional maps, the village should have shown up in the photographs,
but according to Tony, New Wolding's not marked on any
maps that the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources made
from those pictures."

Lewis nodded, understanding now. "I can't explain that," he
said. "There's so much that's not clear that I can't even begin
to . . ."

His voice trailed off as a liquid spill of reed-pipe music came

gliding across the quiet night air. It touched each of them with its
plain and simple beauty. Lewis smiled, his heart opening to welcome
an old friend, but his guests stood transfixed. Ali and Valenti
had never heard it so clear and pure. It resonated inside
them, waking yearnings and needs that they couldn't explain.
Bannon, virgin to the music's spell, lifted his head, nostrils widening
as though to take the music in with every sense he had.

"Madonna mia," Valenti breathed. "It. . . it's. . ." But he had
no words to describe what he heard or what he felt.

The villagers were walking by Lewis's cabin now, heading for
the stone where Tommy played. They were old and middle-aged
for the most part, with a few teenagers in their ranks, but no
young children. As a woman in her sixties paused at the end of
Lewis's path, the four of them joined her and took up the rear of
the Mgged procession.

"Who are your friends, Lewis?" Lily asked.

Lewis introduced them, but they were too entMnced by the
music, by its closeness and clarity, to do more than simply nod.
Lily smiled and took Ali's hand.

"Is this your first time to the stone?" she asked.

Ali nodded.

"Well, you'll have to dance with me-will you do that?"

Ali glanced at Valenti and Bannon, but they were both looking
ahead. She felt the tug of the music, too, and was eager to reach
its source, but she nodded again to the woman holding her hand.

"1. . . I think I'd like to try," she said shyly.

-"Oh, you'll do very well," Lily told her. "Won't she, Lewis?"

"I gather she will," Lewis replied.

174

Charles de Lint

* * *

Mally was perched high in a tree overlooking the glade and its
stone as the villagers trickled in. She'd arrived before anyone.
She'd watched Tommy come, slow-footed and heavyjowled,
saw him put the reeds to his lips, watched him change as he woke
the music from them. A smile glowed deep in her eyes at the
sound of the reed-pipes. Oh, it was good and strong tonight, the
music. Strong enough to call the mystery-maybe strong enough
to keep the hounds at bay.

She seKIed more comfortably in her perch as the villagers
continued to arrive. Tommy quickened the music so that it went
from a slow air into a dance tune, and then Kate and Holly Skegland
were swaying back and forth on the damp grass. Martin
Tweedy soon joined them, but Mally no longer watched them.
Her gaze was now on Lily and Lewis, and the three outsiders
they were bringing to the glade.

"'Lo, Ali," Mally said as she saw the teenager step onto the
grass, her voice so soft that only she herself could hear it.

Lily was holding Ali's hand, drawing her out toward the
dancers. The two men stood with Lewis, watching the piper and
tbe moving figures. Mally nodded to herself as she judged the
effect the music was having on Bannon. There wasn't exactly a
fire in him-not like there was in the other two-but maybe
something beKer. A deep stillness.

Old Homie liked that. He needed the fires-like the bonefires
on the hilltops on the merry eve and midsummer night
and ghostnight-but he liked the quiet too. You could hear
things in the quiet. The drumming of hooves and the whisper
of the music. The dawn chorus when the feather-throated sang
his pr~use.

Mally smiled. She wanted to go down and dance, especially
with Ali, but she wanted to see their faces when the stag came,
too. So she stayed in her perch, fi~dgeting and eager, waiting,
smelling the air, watching their faces.

It was the stone that drew Bannon's gaze first-the dark bulk
of it lifting skyward, moonlight on quartz veios that spiralled up
and down its length like ancient runes. Then he saw the boy.
Tommy was transformed-physically transformed. He wasn't
the same boy at all as the one Bannon remembered seeing in the
garden earlier that day.

Bannon hadn't known what to expect-either with the music,
or what would take place at this stone. It had all sounded too

GREENM~

175

spacey, too crazy. But now . . . hearing it, feeling the sense of
mystery that deepened in this glade . . . he could understand what
it was that neither Tony nor Ali nor the old man had been able to
explain to him before.

It was magic, plain and simple.

That such music could come from that backwoods hick of a
boy. That this place could remain hidden from the world. That
there might even be some enormous buck deer that was a manifestation
of . . . of whatever it was that set the heart apart from the
actions of the body. . ."

It was magic.

Bannon could feel a grin stretching his face. He understood

, why the villagers stayed on, and, in some way, why Lewis Dat

chery felt it was so important to know just what it was that happened
when the music sounded. But for himself, it seemed more
important to just go with the flow. Not to question, but to experience.

|
He had questioned. He had scoffed. But he knew now that

' those who questioned, those who took it all apart trying to find

out what it was and what made it tick . . . they lost out in the end.
The magic would always elude them. The mystery would only
deepen. Because if it lost its secret, it just wouldn't be the mystery
anymore. It would rob the experience of its potency. All
you'd have left would be dry dust and the voices of men discussing
what it was all about. The quiet, the music, the magic would
be gone.

,

: i

1

l

Valenti watched Ali dance, feeling like a doting father seeing
his first born take her first step. A rush of affection went through
him. In his mind's eye, he added Ali's mother to the scene. He
imagined her standing here beside him, holding his hand maybe,
the two of them watching Ali move to the music. Or maybe
Frankie would dance with her daughter. Maybe she'd look at him
from among the dancers, her gold hair spilling down in tangles
and the music draining away all her worries and fears, making
her strong, like she really was, even if she wasn't ready to believe
that yet. Maybe if she could hear this, she'd believe it. Then
he shook his head.

Yeah, he thought. She'd believe it. But it'd never be him with
her. He had too much unfinished business hanging over his head
and what the hell would someone like her want with the kind of
guy he was anyway? She'd aheady gone through all that shit with
Earl Shaw, fercrissakes.

176

Charles de Line

He was surprised at how much that hurt-that he felt like that
about Frankie in the first place, that it hurt so much that there was
never going to be anything between them.

What kind of a guy made a living the way he had anyway?
And for what? As soon as they had no more use for you, the pezzi
di merde just dumped you. Didn't matter how loyal you'd been.
Didn't matter what kind of shit you'd done for them.

The music played, a jiglike- tune that only exaggerated his
regret. Not for what had been, but for what might have been. For
all the things he'd lost because of the business he'd been born
into. He'd trade all that shit-the money, the respect, every~ing
-just to have a kid like Ali to call his own. A woman like her
mother to call his wife. He'd work as a fucking ditchdigger,
fercrissakes, he didn't care.

But it was too late. He'd been what he'd been and now the
debts were being called in. The Magaddinos were going to get
him, one way or another. Either they'd kill him, or they'd keep
him boxed up in a life where he was always looking over his
shoulder, where he could never get close to anyone, because he'd
never know when the bastard) would be there, just waiting to get
him.

The music seemed to hold a personal message for hinn Go
ahead, he thought it was saying. Feel sorry for yourself, regret
the things you've done and the things you'll never get to do. But
just remember that you aren't what you were, but what you are
now.

Sure, he thought. Tell that to whoever- the new padrone's
sending after me. But the music wouldn't let him hold onto that.
It drew his gaze to the dancers, his heart to the music. The fires
inside him muttered and burned, but danced in time to the piping
notes.

Of the three of them, it was Ali who first spotted the stag
soft-stepping from the forest behind Tommy's shoulder. It towered
over the boy like a twin to tbe old stone, eyes gleaming

antlers smooth, head lifted high as it gazed into the glade.

Ali faltered in her steps. She let go of Lily's hand and stood
still, staring at the enormous beast. She thought of everything
that Lewis had told uhem, but realized as she looked intO the
stag's liquid eyes that none of it mattered. It didn't maker who or
what the stag was, or where it had come from. All that mattered

GREENMAN~

177

was that it existed. But still, she could understand uhe legends
and myths that had grown up around this majestic being.

It was no longer a stag, the longer she watched it, but a man.
He stood as tall, his antlers branching high into the sky, but on
two cloven hooves now, not four. A cloak was thrown over his
shoulder, maued with leaves and burrs and twigs, some green and
growing, some dried to an autumn brown. His face was angular
like a roughly chiseled statue-a wise face, and a sad one, but
there was joy in it, too, and a sense of wildness, a sense of humor
and fun. Only the eyes stayed entirely the same, dark and liquid.

Ali took a step toward him and'then he changed again. Now
the antlers were a ram's horns, lifting from his brow in two
ridged sweeps. The cloak fell to the grass to become a carpet of
mulch that he trod on with goat legs. His chest was hairy and
muscular, his face a triangular shape that was accentuated by the
tuft of a goat's beard that dangled from his chin.

Pan, Ali thought. She wanted to speak his name, but her muscles
were too numb, her throat too dght to shape its sound. The
music dipped and soared around her as she took a second and a
third step, drawing ever closer to the magical apparition. And
then she heard the onher sound-distant at first, but growing
louder. It was like the baying of dogs on the hunt, the howling of
wolves. She remembered what Lewis had said about Khe Hunt
and shook her head. They couldn't have him. Not this being.

The sound of uhe Hunt grew louder now, cufflng across the
music. The other dancers faltered. The goatman grew indistinct
around the edges. He was the stagman again, taller, broadchested,
and then uhe stag. He pawed the ground with a hard
hoof, spraying grass and clods of dirt. The dogs could be heard
louder still.

"N-no," Ali said.

She started to turn around. She'd stop them. She'd give the
mystery time to escape. But then a familiar figure was at her side,
floppy hat covering the tangled and maned hair, teeth showing
white as she grinned.

"Come on!" Mally cried as she took Ali's hand.

"No!" Ali protested. "The Hunt-"

"Stuff the Hunt!" Mally told her. "Tonight we're going to
drink down the moon!"

They were directly in front of the stag now. Mally grasped Ali
around the waist with both hands and with a cry of "Ali-oop!"
flung her up onto the stag's back. Ali clung to its neck, stunned

178

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as much at where she found herself as at the wild girl's startling
strength. A moment later Mally was up on the stag's back behind
her, straddling the wide girth, her arms around Ali's waist.

"Run!" Mally cried to the stag. "Let's show them the night as
they've never seen it before. We'll run them into their graves and
then run some more. Hoo-hey!"

She kicked her heels against the stag's sides and it leapt high
into the air, over the dancers, circling on prancing hooves in front
of Valenti, Bannon and Lewis, then back toward the stone. There
was a sound of snarling in the air as the Hunt drew close. The
stag jumped toward the stone. Valenti took a few running steps
after them, then his leg gave out and he stumbled to the ground.
He watched the stag leap, its riders clinging to its neck and each
other, and then it was gone.

He blinked. For a moment he'd thought it had disappeared
right into the stone, but he knew that couldn't be right. It had
entered the forest behind the stone. But then why couldn't he
hear it in the underbrush? And Ali . . . It was taking Ali away!

Bannon was at his side helping him to his feet. Valenti shook
off his hand and stared wildly at where the stag had disappeared.
It was gone. With Ali. Oh, Jesus. What was he going to tell her
momma?

"C'mon," Bannon started to say, but suddenly the glade was
filled with dark shapes. The Hunt was all around them.

The dancers had fled to the shelter of the trees with the other
villagers. Tommy stood up, back against the stone's rough surface,
his dog Gaffa crouched snarling at his feet. The reed-pipes
hung from Tommy's hands. His face was vacuous again, stripped
of its inspiration. He stared at the two men and the shapes that
surrounded them.

The shapes were dogs, then men, cowled and robed, then
animals again. They milled around the circle, snarling. When one
of them snapped at Valenti, he au&out his automatic, thumbed.
the safety off, and fired point-blank intd the creature's face.

The explosion of the gun was loud. A deep silence followed
the sound of its sharp report. The beast Valenti had shot didn't
appear to have been affected at all by the bullet, but it backed
away from him, as did the rest of the pack. Valenti took aim at
the biggest one of them, but Bannon touched his arm.

"No," he said. "They're going."

Still silent, the pack flowed around the pair and ran for the
~tone. They split up, half passing it on one side, half on the other.

GREENMANll-E

179

Not until they were in the forest did they begin to howl once
more.

"Oh, lesus," Valenti said. The automatic hung at his side now
and he leaned against Bannon. "It took her," he said. "All's gone.
What the Christ are we going to do?"

Bannon turned to look at where they'd left Lewis standing.
The old man came out from the shelter of the trees and walked
slowly toward thern.

"You!" Valenti said, lifting the gun.

"That won't help," Bannomsaid.

Valenti looked at the weapon, then slowly nodded. He flicked
the safety back on and thrust it into his pocket. "Where did they
go?" he asked Lewis. "Where's that thing taking her?"

"I don't know," Lewis replied. "This has never happened before."

"
Great." Valenti studied the circle of villagers who were

slowly emerging from the trees. They all appeared frightened. He
turned to look at Tommy. The.boy was still standing by the stone,
the reed-pipes silent in his hand. "What about the pipes?" Valenti
asked. "Can't you use them to call the stag back?"

"We don't command him," Lewis said. "All we do is celebrate
him."

"Yeah. But the pipes call him, right?"

"Sometimes he comes-more often not. And never twice on
the same night."

"Fercrissakes!" Valenti shouted. "Then what're we going to
do?"

Bannon stooped to pick up Valend's cane and handed it to
him. "We'll find her," he said.

"How? Christ, what am I going to tell her momma?"

"C'mon, Tony. We'll-"

"It's that wild girl," Valenti.said. "She grabbed Ali. She's
going to be the one that pays if anything happens to her." He
swung around to look at the villagers again. "And that goes for
all of you-you hear what I'm telling you? Anything happens to
Ali, and you're all paying."

"Please," Lewis said. 'We meant her no harm. This has
never-"

"Happened before," Valenti finished. "Yeah. I know. I heard
you the first time. Well, it's never going to happen again, capito?
This bateau of yours-this bogeyman's not going to steal another
kid, not if I've got anything to say about it."

180 Charles de LInt

As Valenti started for the stone Bannon caught him by the
arm. "What are you planning to do?" he asked. "Chase after that
thing?"

"You got a better idea?"

"The way I see it is, we've got two choices. Either we wait for
it to come back here, or we head on back to your place. If Aii
gets off that thing, I'm betting she'll head for your place. All
we're going to do if we start running crazy through the bush is
get lost ourselves."

'Yeah. But what if she falls off it somewhere back there?
What if she's Iying there hurt?"

"The girl's with her," Bannon said.

Valenti shook his head.-"I don't trust that girl."

"I can't believe anything bad's going to happen to Ali," Bannon
said. "Not while she's with the stag. Didn't you feel anything
when it showed up?"

"I'll stay here-all night if necessary," Lewis offered, "and if
she returns here, I'll bring her to your house."

"You're just a part of all this shit," Valenti said. "If it wasnit
for you, we'd-"

"C'mon, Tony. You're talking crazy. No one here wants to
hurt Ali. If you'd think for a moment, you'd see that."

Before Valenti could reply, the sound of the pipes started up
again-softly, not a rallying call, or a celebration, just a sad series
of notes that didn't quite make a melody. But it was enough so
that Valenti remembered what he'd been feeling when the music
had been going full tilt. It was enough to take the sharp edge off
his fear for Ali. He turned to look at Tommy as the sound of the
pipes faded away, but there was nothing in the boy's eyes at that
moment. Nobody home, Valenti thought. He took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go home."

Bannon nodded. He turned to Lewis, but before he could say
anything, Valenti spoke.

"Listen," he said to the old man. "Maybe I got a little carrieci
away, but I'm worried about the kid, okay? She means a lot to
me."

"I understand," Lewis said. "If I'd had any way of knowing
this would happen, I would never have asked you to come to the
stone."

Valenti nodded.

"If she comes back here, I will bring her to you," Lewis said.

'Yhanks. And we'll send you word if something breaks on our

:

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GREENMA   ~181

end." Valenti glanced at his companion. "Let's hit the road,
Tom."

Behind them, the piper by the stone began to play once more.
The music that came from his reed-pipes was not the same as it
had been earlier. It sang of regret now, and of things lost, rather
than in celebration of the mystery. The sad strains followed the

men as they took the path back to Valenti's house.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Frankie was exhausted by the time she turned off the highway to
finish the last leg of her drive home. Exhausted and depressed.
Funeral homes, hospitals, graveyards-they all left her emotionally
drained.

She felt sorry for Bob's parents, and especially for loy, but
she couldn't have lasted another minute in the company of any
one of the three without screaming. It wasn't their fault. It was
just that the hours in the funeral home, on top of the scare she'd
had last night, had not left her in the best of shape. Her nerves
were so worn they were ready to snap. All she wanted now was
to collapse on her bed and sleep it all away: Her fears about Earl,
the jangling of her nerves' the depression. . . Hopefully, everything
would look better in the morning.

She drove by the road that went up to Valenti's house and was
about to turn into her own lane when she remembered Ali. God,
she was in worse shape than she'd thought. Already slowing
down, she suddenly slammed on the brakes when she saw the old
pickup truck sitting in her lane. The seatbelt caught her shoulder,
then whipped her back against the seat. The car's engine stalled,
but she just turned off the ignition and lights, and stared at the
lruck.

Twilight had become night whilo sbe was driving home from
Ottawa. The house was dark. Everything was dark-and quiet,
too, now that the car engine was still. Her breathing was loud in
her ears. She lost the outline of the pickup until her eyes adjusted
to the lack of light.

It's Earl, she thought as she made out the truck's bulk in her
lane once more. God damn him! She thought of what Tony had
told her this morning, thought of what she knew of Earl from her
own experiences with him, but she was so angry at the moment
that she forgot to be scared. He was not going to move into her
life again. Nor into Ali's. And he was definitely not getting a cent
of the Wintario money.

182

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She unclipped her seatbelt, opened the car door, and stepped
out onto the road. Its uneven surface made it difficult to walk in
her pumps, even though the heels weren't all that high. It wasn't
until she neared the truck and its dark shape bulked beside her
that she had to wonder just what in God's name she thought she
was doing.

. She was going to stop Earl? She put a hand against the side of
the truck's bed for balance as a tremor of fear went through her.
This was not smart, she told herself. Not smart at all. She ran a
hand nervously through her hair, tugging at a knot in the curls.
The smart thing to do would be to go 'up to Tony's and come back
with him and his friend Tom.

She started to turn, then heard something move near the front
of the truck. A shadow pulled away from the wheel, rose to its
feet to become a man. Everything went tight inside Fraokie's
chest and she found it hard to breathe. She backed away, but the
shadow followed her. There was a ringing in her ears, and something
dse as well. It took her a Ibag moment to realize what it
was: the music from Ali's tape, but the real tbing this time, not
information stored on magnetic tape.

"I want my dog, lady."

The man's voice startled her. She knew a momentary relief
that it wasn't Earl's voice, then the fear came clawing back. Who
was this?

"Y-your . . . dog . . .?" she asked.

"I'm looking for him, lady. His name's Dooker. You better
give him back.... "

Frankie condoued to back up. "Look," she said. "I don't
know anytoing about your dog. Does it look like I've got a-"
She bumped into the hood of her own car and there was nowhere
left to go. The man continued to advance until he stood over her.

"I want him, lady."

His breath was stale in her face. A small cry escaped her lips
as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

GREE14M~J~

"Please. . ." she began.

He shook her roughly. "I want . . . I want . . .

Fraokie tried to break his grip on her, to no avail. She could
still hear the eerie music spilling out of the woods, low and distant,
but immediate at the same time. It made her feel weak and
strong, all at once, but while one part of her was falling under its
spell, her fear of the man and what he was doing was stronger.

She lifted her knee, but the skirt she was wearing was too
na~row to give the blow much power. Where it should have con
,,

183

184

Charles de Lint

nected with his groin and doubled him over, all it did was make
him grunt. His grip tightened on her shoulders. Suddenly he halflifted
her and threw her down on the hood of her car. Holding her
down with one hand, he started to tear at her skirt with the other.

"Want you," he growled.

Lance was in that special place by the river where he and old
Dook used to go when it came to him that Dook wasn't dead-he
was going to shoot his own dog9.-and he hadn't run otf. Not
Dooker. He'd been stolen. Old man Treasure's daughter-she
had his dog, no ifs, ends or buts about it. That's where he'd first
heard the music. She'd used the music to trap old Dook, just like
she was trying to trap him. Filling his head with crazy shit.

He got up from the riverbank and into the truck. Turning the
pickup around, he headed back along the dirt roads to the Treasure
place, only when he got there, the place was empty.

He parked in the lane and walked around the house, peering
into the windows and muttering to himself. Every once in awhile
he'd start calling for Dooker, but then he'd stop right away, the
loudness of his voice startling him. When it started to rain, he
hunched in the cab of his pickup, staring at the house through the
rain-splattered windshield, wiping the glass every time the condensation
built up too much. When the rain stopped, he went
back to prowling the grounds, keeping a wary eye on the woods
behind the house.

He checked the barn calling softly for the dog. The need to see
Dooker, to know the old feller was okay, kept building up in him.
His head ached as the pressure increased until he finally had to sit
down again. He leaned back against the front wheel of his pickup
and closed his eyes.

He had to have open ground around him. Even the familiar
interior of the pickup's cab made-.hj,m claustrophobic. At some
point he realized that he must have dozed off-dreaming of
shotguns and Dooker dying, but-Christ on a Cross-there was
no way that was true. The next thing he knew it was dark.

He heard a car engine sputter and die. Turning, he saw its
headbeams on the road just before they winked off. A door
opened and then he listened to someone walk across the road and
onto the driveway. He waited until whoever it was had come too
close-to run away before he could talk to them, and then he stood
up.

He was feeling a little better now. His head didn't hurt so
much, and while he Still wanted to find Dooker, the need to do so

GREENMANTLE

185

was no longer burning so painfully inside him. His eyes were
well adjusted to the dark by the time he got up to look at the
blonde woman that was standing by his truck.

He couldn't tell a whole lot about her face in the poor light,
but the shape of her looked real good in the narrow skirt and top
she had on. He started out asking her about Dooker, but then he
heard it coming-first on the edges of his consciousness, then
building up, louder and louder. That music. He should ve run, he
thought. He should've just taken off when he had the chance, but
now it was too late. And in anothe'r moment, it didn't matter
anymore.

He fett the hotness in his groin and when he followed the
woman as she backed out of the lane, he wasn't seeing her the
same anymore. She was a field that needed ploughing now. A
bitch in heat. He could smell the blood on her. And Lord, oh,
Lord, he needed to ride her.

Her skirt tore like paper and as she lifted her hands to claw at
him he just grinned and bulled his face in against her breasts,
away from her nails. With his left hand' he loosened his grip on
her shoulder and grabbed her neck. His other hand tore at her
undergarments. The music continued to burn in him as he bared
her womanhood to the night air.

Her. smell was so strong he could hardly breathe. She wasn't
struggling so hard now, so he let go of her neck and tore at her
blouse. Lifting his head, he arced his head back as far as it would
go and let out a howl.-Right about then, a car came around the
curve and stabbed him with its headlights.

The man in the van was just getting ready to leave his vehicle
for another circuit of the house and its grounds when he heard the
music start up. Closing the rear door, he hefted his crossbow,
head cocked as he listened. What the hell was that? He started
through the trees, heading for Valenti's house, when he heard
overtop the soft piping first a man howling like some kind of
animal, then the sound of a car.

He doubled back, crossed the road that led up to Valenti's
place at the same time as a car went by the turn-off, slowed and
came to a halt. By the time its doors opened and the occupants
were getting out, the man with the crossbow had entered the trees
on the other side of the road and was working his way closer to
where the car had stopped.

All of a sudden, he thought, the night ha~i gotten interesting.

186

Charles de Lint

* * *

Howie knew a moment's panic when the car's headlights
caught the two figures struggling on the hood of the car that was
stopped on the road in front of them. All three of them saw the
man raping the woman, but only Howie thought that it might be
Earl.

"Don't-" he began, then shut his mouth. Don't stop, he was
going to say. Don't get involved. But Lisa was already standing
on the brake. "Don't let him get away!" Howie finished.

As soon as the car came to a halt, he opened the door on his
side. Sherry pushed past him. Lisa was already on the road.
When Howie glanced at her, he saw that she had something in her
hand. It looked like a tire iron.

"You bastard!" she screamed.

The rapist lifted his head. For one moment, Howie thought the
guy was going to have a go at all of them, but then he bolted and
ran for the pickup that was parked in the lane. The woman he'd
been abusing started to roll off the hood of the car. Lisa, faced
with the choice of going after the man or catching the woman,
opted for the latter. Sherry stopped to give her a hand. Howie,
after taking a few steps towards the pickup, stopped as well when
the truck's engine turned over, then caught. Weaponless, there
wasn't much he could do but watch the pickup bounce across the
lawn, dip into, then up out of the ditch, and finally tear off down
the road. Once it hit the road, he turned back to ~e women.

The rapist's victim was having some trouble breathing. He had
tried to choke her, Howie thought. Then as he moved in closer he
saw enought of her features and that spill of blonde hair to know
just who it was that they'd rescued tonight. Earl's ex! lesus H.,
wasn't that just too fucking weird?

"For God's sake," Sherry told him. "Don't gawk at the poor
woman."

Howie quickly shifted his gazo away from the woman's
breasts.

"Don't try to talk," Lisa was saying to her. "Just take it easy.
We scared him off. He's not going to hurt you now." She glanced
up at Sherry. "Should we take her to the hospitalT'

"Jeez, I don't know. Is she badly hurt?"

"I . . . I'm okay now," Frankie managed. She tried to sit up
and fumbled at the ruin of her blouse. Lisa helped support her.

"Are you sure?" Sherry asked.

Frankie nodded slowly. "I live. . . I just live over there." She
pointed at the dark house.

GREENMANTLE

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187

"Well, we'll get you inside," Lisa said. "Is there anyone we
can call for you? There doesn't look to be anyone home."

"My daughter's staying with a neighbor-just up. .. just up
the road."

"We'll get you inside first," Sherry said, "and then we'll see
about your daughter. How old is-she?"

"Fourteen."

Sherry put her arm aroynd her while Lisa supported Frankie
from the other side. "We should probably get you cleaned up
first-before we get her. What do you think?"

Frankie nodded gratefully. When Sherry turned to Howie to
ask him to put the cars in the lane, she saw he was just standing
there in the lane head cocked.

"Howie . . .?' she asked.

"Listen," he said. "can't you hear it?"

"Hear what...?" But then she didn't have to ask anymore.
they could all hear it now. It was a plaintive lost sound that they
could easily have missed if Howie hadn't pointed it out.

Listening to it, tears welled up in Frankie's eyes and she was
surprised to realize that they weren't for herself, for what she'd
just gone through, but for the sheer beauty of the music itself.
The soft piping went through her, casting light on the tattered
shadows that lay inside her.

"What is it?" Lisa asked softly. She glanced at Frankie, saw
the tears in her eyes glistening in the moonlight, but saw also that
Frankie was smiling at the same time.

Howie got nervous when he first heard the music. He was
worried about the stag showing up, worried about the feeling
he'd had this morning about being hunted. But then he started to
really listen to it and he found himself sympathizing with the
rapist's victim and pissed as hell with the rapist.

It was a weird feeling for Howie. He'd always sort of figured
that what went on between a guy and a girl, well, that was their
business. Maybe things'd get a little rough on the broad sometime,
but hell, they all wanted it, didn't they? Only now. . . The
music was so sad. His chest felt tight. He glanced at Sherry and
wondered what it'd be like if she was his girl, say, and some guy
tried to stick it to her. Sherry chose that moment to look at him.
She couldn't read his face, but she reached out and gave his hand
a squeeze. That only confused Howie more.

He shook his head suddenly, clearing it. "Maybe I should
move these cars," he said.

His words broke the spell. While his two companions helped

188 Charles de Llat

Frankie into the house he got into her car and started it up.
What's Earl going to say? he wondered as he pulled the car into
the lane. Iesus, things were really messed up. But then, he
thought, why the fuck should I worry about what's with Earl?
Earl wasn't here and maybe, just maybe, it was time for Howie
Peale to do something for himself for a change.

The man waited until they were all inside the house before he
rose from the cedars where he'd been hidden and started up the
road to Valenti's house. He wasn't sure what to make of what
he'd just seen. His mind was still filled with the~strains of that
soft and distant music he'd heard.

It had done something to him, that music. He'd felt something
wake inside him in response to it. What, he wasn't sure. But
something.

Cradling his crossbow, he continued up the road, forcing himself
to concentrate on the business that had brought him here in
the first place. It was time to check and see if Tony Valenti had
returned home yet.

\\ l

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"You say the road just stops at Valenti's place, rightT' Louie
asked as Earl turned off Highway 51 I toward French Line.

"You~got it," Earl replied.

"Well, let's just take a spin by the end of his road for starters,"
Louie said.

"I don't see why we don't just-"

Louie cut Earl off. "This is my baby," he said. "You don't
have to understand shit, you understand what I'm saying? Now
you can just point out the spot to us and then blow, or you can
hang in and maybe-if you do what I say-earn yourself a little
bonus."

Earl didn't bother correcting him. Louie could think Earl was
working for him all he liked. He could throw his weight around,
mouth off-no problem. But Earl wasn't going to forget. And
when this Colombian deal he'd set up with Louie's old man went
through. . . well, maybe he and the wop could repeat this little
conversation. Only this time, Earl would call the shots.

He made the turn that would take them to Lammermoor instead
of French Line if they went far enough. "It's coming up,"
he said, slowing the car.

They passed by the road and came up on Frankie's place.

"Is this the closest neighbor?" Louie asked.

Earl didn't answer right away. He was looking at all the lights
on in the house. His bucks were sitting in there, just waiting for
him. All he needed was Frankie's signature. The second car in
the driveway bothered him.

"Hey-are you listening to me?"

Earl glanced at Louie. "Yeah, sure. Valenti's place is maybe
half a mile up that road on a dead end. Other than that place we
passed a mile or so back, the next closest people are living just
outside of Lammermoor."

"How far's thatT'

"We're talking maybe two miles."

189

190 Charles de Lint

"What about this place?" Fingers asked from the back seat. He
indicated a rundown old log cabin that was coming up on their
right.

"It's deserted-like the other place just before we got to Valenti'
s road."

"Okay," Louie said. "I'm getting a feel for the area. Turn us
around once and then drop me off at the end of Tony's road."

Earl glanced at him. "Listen," he began. "If you're-"

"Just get this shitbox turned around and drop me off, okay?"

"Sure," Earl said. "No problem."

He turned the car and headed back the way they'd come,
slowing as they drew near to Frankie's house once more. The
drapes were drawn, but he could see figures moving inside, silhouetted
against the interior lights. Party while you can, he
thought as he pulled over to the end of the road leading to Valenti'
s.

"You want me to come?" Fmgers asked.

Louie shook his head. He picked up the Ingram that was Iying
on the seat between himself and Earl. "I can do it. I'm just going
in for a look-see. You drive on, Earl, and come back and pick me
up in a half hour or so. Think you can handle that?" He stepped
out of the car before Earl could reply and closed the door.

"You heard the man," Fingers said.

Earl nodded. He drove off. Maybe he'd made a mistake, calling
Broadway foe. All this Valenti shit was slowing down his
personal business. Who cared if Valenti bought it or not? What
was important right now was the bread Frankie had. Once the
money was in hand, there'd be plenty of time to deal with Valenti.
It wasn't like Louie had a monopoly on wanting to pay the
guy back.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. Fingers was resting easily.
Wonder what he'd do if we just ~ft his boss back there? Earl
wondered. Maybe when he took out Louie, he'd put a bullet
through Fingers' head while he was at it. Fucking weps.

"Pull over," Fingers said suddenly. They weren't more than a
mile and a half from where they'd let Louie off.

"What for?"

"We'll give him his twenty minutes or so," Fingers said, "but
I want to be close in case something comes up."

"He isn't exactly gonna phone or anything," Earl said as he
pulled over.

Fingers leaned over the seat and killed the engine. "I want to

GREE~JM - 1=

191

be able to hear," he said. Hefting the Browning automatic rifle,
he stepped out of the car.

"Somebody drives by and sees you standing there with that,
they're gonna wonder why," Earl said as he joined Fingers on the
road. He swatted at a couple of mosquitos. Of course they went
for him instead of the wop.

"You let me worry about who sees what," Fingers replied. He
walked a little way down the road.

Earl trailed after him, hands in the pockets of his jacket when
he wasn't swatting bugs. The fingers of his right hand closed
around his .38. Bang, he thought. I should just blow the both of
you away right now and tell Big Daddy Broadway loe that Tony
Valenti hasn't lost his touch yet. But maybe, as a personal favor
to foe, Earl would see what he could do.

Earl grinned. If it wasn't that it'd probably fuck up the dope

deal, he was real tempted. He'd show these wops that he didn't
have to belong to no fucking "family" to get ahead.

"What's Louie's problem with Valenti?" he asked as he came
up beside Fingers.

"Goes back a way. You know Louie's got Tony's old job,
right?"

"Sure. First deal I ran by you boys was through Valenti."

"Yeah, well, when Tony hit the padrone, he tried to disappear.
Trouble was, he went to the first place we thought of looking-
Mario Papale's place in Malta. The guy they called the Silver
Fox."

"Before my time. I never heard of him."

"Yeah, well, he was one of the best. Anyway, Louie went to
Papale's place to hit Tony-it's like his first hit on the job, you
know what I'm saying?"

Earl nodded. "Only he blew it."

"It don't look so good. Well, Louie's made things up, but
this's always been a little piece of unfinished business. He's got
all the respect a man can get, because when he does a job, it gets
done, and no one's holding the Malta deal against him because he
was up against both Tony ar~d the Fox, but it's still eating at him,
you know? So he's got to do it right this time-up close and
personal."

"Yeah, but dead's dead."

"Sure it is," Fingers said. "But it's a matter of honor for Louie
now. He wants to do it himself-with Tony looking him in the
eye and knowing what's going down-and he wants it clean, too.
That's going to give him a lot of respect, if he pulls it off right.

192 Charles de Lint

Any asshole can do a hit. It takes a guy with something special to
do it just right. Clean. No connectior:s. lust the right people
knowing what wer:t down."

"I guess," Earl said. If you're a wop and not too bright. Fercrissakes.
Honor. Respect. Who the hell did these guys think they
were anyway?

"You've got to be fanuly to understand what I'm telling you,"
Fmgers said.

"Hey, I understand," Earl said. "I gotta lot of respect for your
boss. He's some kind of guy, let me tell you. We don't get his
kind up here."

Fingers nodded, pleased with the response.

Lap it up, Earl thought. Christ, Howie should see these guys.
Thinking about Howie, he realized that he really should do something
for the guy. He was a little worm, but he could be useful.
He should get Howie back to Ottawa, keep him out of sight of
these Italian clowns. It was always good to have some backup
that nobody but you knew you had. Earl always liked the idea of
having an edge.

An edge was what Louie was looking for, too. He'd talked to
his father just before they~d left for Lanark and learned about the
meet with the Fox. That complicated things, made it even more
important that this hit didn't 100k like what it was. At least not
until they'd done something about Papale.

He followed the road, keeping to the side where his shoes
made just a rustle of sound in the grass. Mosquitos hummed
around his head, but few landed. He heard a soft sound like a
birdsong coming from deep in the woods, but it was almost gone
before he could place it. He wondered about what kind of bird
would make a sound like that, then turned his thoughts back to
the business at hand.

Before they planned anything, t1te, had to know if Tony was
still hanging around. Louie wasn't really expecting it. Tony'd
never been stupid. But he might not have made Earl. Or maybe
he wouldn't figure that Earl would go to the family with what he
had even if Tony did think he'd been made.

Until they knew for sure, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot
they could do. And for this kind of thing, Louie liked to do the
job himself. If you were going to do the hit, then you should be
the one to case the area. Get the feel of things. Figure out who
was where, what they'd do. Being careful kept you alive after the
job was done. And the less people involved, the better.

GREENM~

193

Every since the fiasco in Malta, he'd worked pretty much just
with Fingers. It'd be easy to load the area with soldari, but that
didn't look good-not if word got out to the other families. He
could just hear the talk. "Hey, didja hear the Magaddinos finally
got Tony Valenti? Took twenty guys under Fucceri, but what the
hell, they got the job done."

No, Louie thought. That wouldn't look good at all. And besides,
too many men got in each other's way. Like in Malta.
Well, Tony wasn't going to have the Fox to pull him out of this
one. If he was still in the area, it was just going to be the two of
them.

He could see the lights of the house now. He got the Ingram
ready for use and moved in closer, through the hedge and out
onto the lawn. He saw a man he didn't recognize sitting by the
window at the front of the house. A few moments later, Tony
walked by and sat down beside him.

Louie grinned when he saw Tony limp. Guess you haven't
forgotten me yet, huh, Tony? He made a circuit of the house.
When he was sure that it was just the two men, he started back
down the road. It was starting to come together now-how he
was going to play it.

Halfway back to where he was going to meet Fingers and

Earl, he paused to listen. There it was again. Had to be some
kind of bird. But what kind of birds were out at night? Didn't
they sleep or something? The sound was eerie, but he shook off
the feeling he got from it. He knew shit about the woods, but he
wasn't about to let some little birdie get him all jumpy. Sure as
hell was a strange sound, though.

He continued on his way.

The dark-haired man had followed Louie up from the road.
He'd recognized Fucceri right off, finger tightening on the trigger
of his crossbow, but he knew that by the time he fired and started
to reload, the two men in the car would take him out. As the car
drove off he realized that this probably wasn't the hit yet.

He followed the lone man up the road, finger tightening again
as Louie stood outside Valenti's house, studying the two men
sitting by the window. When Louie made a circuit of the house,
the man stayed on his trail. He was still undecided as to what to
do with Fucceri as Louie made his way back down the road.

When Louie stopped suddenly, the man froze. Had he been
heard? He stilled his own breathing, then understood what Louie
was hearing. It was the music. This is just one busy area, he

194

Charles de Lint

thought as Louie condoued on his way. The scene with the
woman down by the road. The music. Fucceri showing up. Not
to mendon what had brought him here himself.

The car returned then, making his decision for him. He melted
further back into the trees and watched Louie get in. The car
turned around and drove off, and the man returned to his van,
listening to the quiet undl another spill of eerie music slipped
across it, fey and distant.

Cradling the crossbow, he leaned against a tree. That
music . . . There was something in it . . . something . . . He shook
his head. He could almost understand what it was saying to him,
but he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. It was like it was
talking to him personally, and while he'd neva had any second
thoughts about who he was or what he did with his life, he had
the feeling that the music was trying to tell him that he should.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

\

Lily stayed to keep Lewis company by the old stone after the
other villagers had left the glade. Lewis wasn't surprised. They
were o~d friends and he appreciated her presence. It helped him
concentrate on something other than the downward spiral of his
thoughts that tonight's events had set into modon, making him
feel his years more than usual. What did surprise him, however,
was that Tommy Duffin had stayed as well.

Tommy sat, half-hidden by the base of the standing stone,
Gaffa Iying near his knee. He would have been invisible, and
tben forgotten, if he didn't lip his reed-pipes from time to dme,
sending a few bars of a sad air across the glade that lingered,
faded and then were gone, until he started the cycle over again.

Such a sound, Lewis thought, hearing the piping tonight as
though for the first dme again. It was this that they had heard in
Arcadia, a music like this, when the world was young, but the
forests already old. The mystery seemed close when the music
played. Surely he was hidden by the low-hanging branches of the
nearest trees, or in the spill of briars and bushes that grew thick
on the slope behind the stone. He'd be a Green Man, a stag, a
goatman, a boar. . . whatever shape he chose, or in no shape at
aU . . . but he was near. Or was it just the music? Lewis wondered.
Just the glade that knew him so well, some tnck of the
stone, or was the mystery returning? Had he lost the hounds and
was now bringing Mally and the girl back . . . ?

Lewis was held by the hope in the music, the promise of it,
undl Tommy brought the pipes away from his lips and laid them
on his lap. Then the ghost of Ackerly Perkin returned to torment
Lewis with its talk of illusions and lies, all deaf together with just
enough truth and a certain logic to make it difficult for Lewis to
decide what was real and what was not.

Do what you will shall be the whole of the law. When Crowley
spoke the words, they contained too much self in them. There
was not enough thought of the world as a whole. And yet, an

195

- r

:

1

1

196 Charles de Lint

individual was important, as an individual. Lewis believed that.
It was what an individual brought to the world, what an individual
gave to the mystery that mattered. But if it was all illusion-

Lily laid her hand on his, bringing him abruptly from his
thoughts. "He seems near, doesn't he?" she said. "That special
presence of him is so close."

Tommy was playing once more-only breathing across the
pipes, but it was enough to send a soft thread of sound across the
glade and out, beyond its boundanes, into the forest and the
night. This had to be real, Lewis thought. It was no illusion that
had leapt off into the darkness, bearing away Mally and the girl.
If something had substance, then it couldn't be illusion, could it?
But where did it start? the pinprickle whisper of Ackerly Perkin's
voice asked, harsh in Lewis's ear. If it all began with illusion,
what was it now?

"I love it when it's like this," Lily said. "I love to feel his
mystery without that pack of black monks snapping at his heels."

Lewis regarded her. "That's how you see them? As monks?"

"As monks . . . or as priests." Lily shrugged. "The Hounds of
God. I can remember the first time you told me about what the
Church did to the mystery. The one they called lesus-the Green
Man they hung from a tree in the desert. How St. Paul took the
mystery and twisted it to make a religion of intolerance and selftorment.
That's how I still see the pack. As St. Paul's dogs, still
trying to trap the mystery with their lies."

"I said that?" Lewis asked, remembering the conversation
he'd had earlier that day with his guests. Had his questioning and
confusion driven him so far astray that it took someone else to
remind him of what he'd once believed without questioning?

"Yes, you did, Lewis," Lily said. "Don't you remember?"

"Are they real, then?"

"What? The hounds?"

Lewis nodded.

"Hate's still real, isn't it? And intolerance?"

Lewis nodded again.

"Well," Lily said, "so long as they exist, there will always be
hounds. Something will always chase down the Green Man. You
told me that, too."

"And the mystery?" Lewis asked. "What of him?"

"I don't know what you mean, Lewis."

"Is he still realY'

Lily tried to study his features, but it was too dark to make

GREENMANUE
197

them out. "What are you saying, Lewis? That we've imagined
the mystery?"

Lewis sighed. "I don't know anymore. I think I've filled my
head up with too many words. I've learned too much, tried to
capture with logic something that only exists outside of it."

"You always told me that it was how we took our knowledge
from the world that shaped us," Lily said. "That there was a glory
in reaching out to touch the mystery with our minds as well as
our spirits."

"But it can't be understood."

"That doesn't make trying to a waste of time." Lily smiled
and took his hand. "Isn't this strange?" she said. "Here I am
using your own arguments against you. But then I don't think this
is between you and me at all, Lewis. It's between the man you
once were and the man you are now."

"Which one is right.?"

"I don't know, Lewis. All I know is that the mystery belongs
to everyone."

Lewis nodded. "I agree. But there's no other place for him
except for here. And maybe not even here anymore."

"Then we've got to make a place for him."

"And if we fail to do that?" Lewis asked. "Then what? What's
he going to do out there in the world? Nobody wants him out
there."

Lily smiled. "I think you've got to give him more credit than
that," she said. "We're not talking about some buck deer, Lewis.
We're talking about something that makes the forests shiver when
he wallcs by."

"Now you sound like Mally. She thinks we should have more
people in New Wolding if we want to keep him nearby. And if we
don't, that we should jus~t let him run free."

"I don't think that's our decision to make," Lily said. "We
may think we're deciding what to do with him, but I'm sure the
mystery just does whatever he does."

Do what you will, Lewis thought with a shiver. He didn't like
the way this conversation was going at all.

"I don't know what's right or wrong anymore," he said.

"You shouldn't worry so much," Lily said. "You didn't used
to worry so much, Lewis. Don't you remember how much happier
you were then?"

"Everything seemed simpler then."

"Things haven't changed, Lewis. The outside world's still

outside, and we're still here. The dogs chase the stag, and then
the stag chases them. It all balances out in the end."

She couldn't see it, Lewis thought. Something was changing
the stag. It was drawn to outsiders-like Tony Garonne and the
young girl that it had borne away with Mally tonight. Things
were changing. But maybe it wasn't fair of him to point that out
to Lfly. Maybe they were just changing for him.

He turned to try and explain himself one more time, but then
Tommy began to play. As the music filled Lewis it drained away
h~s questions and worries, left room inside him for the mystery
and nothing more. When Tommy laid the pipes aside again, Lily
squeezed Lewis's hand.

"He'll come back," she said. "And he'll bring both Mally and
the g~rl back with him. You might ask him, straight out, Lewis

Or you might ask Mally."

Lewis nodded. Or he could ask the girl. Would she know'
Whatever the stag and Mally saw in her, she was still a young
girl. Brighter than average, though he was judging her by New
Woldmg's standards. Maybe they were turning them out smarter
m the world beyond the village. But she didn't talk in riddles

Maybe she'd be able to explain it to him when she returned. If
she returned.

"He'll bring them back," Lily said again, as though reading
h~s thoughts. "You'll see."

Lewis looked from her to the shadow that was Tommy Duffin
s~ttmg at the base of the otd stone. Although he wasn't playing
the p~pes just now, Tommy looked thin and fey-eyed in the
moonl~ght, as though he weren't Tommy Duffin yet, but still the
Piper. He met Lewis's gaze and a smile flickered in his too-bright
eyes. Then he lifted the pipes once again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bannon settled on one of the sofas by the window when they g
back to Valenti's place and watched Valenti pace restlessly bac
and forth across the room.

"C'mon," he said finally. "Settle down. You're going to bur
yourself out and then when we need you, you won't be there."

Valenti frowned, but he came to sit down. He was burning u
energy. Angry, worried, he just couldn't sit still.

"The leg giving you problems?" Bannon asked

Reflexively, Valenti rubbed his leg. "Yeah. I got a couple 0
steel pins in there holding some of the bones together. Tbe le,
was a real mess by the time I got it to a doctor. He did what he
could, but..." Valenti shrugged. "It aches in the damp, and
som~et~mes when I overdo things it starts to act up, you Icnow
what I mean?"

Bannon nodded. They sat quietly for a long moment, then~
Valenti spoke again.

"What am I going to tell her momma, Tom? Fercrissakes,
she's going to be here any minute to pick her up, and then what?"

T]he phone rang before Bannon could reply. "I'll get it," he
said.

Howie walked slowly around Frankie's living room, taking in
the furnishings, the books and knick-knacks. The place'd look a
hell of a lot different if it was his and he had her kind of money.
That was for sure. He wondered what Earl would think if he
could see Howie here in his exe's house-being asked in, being
one of the good guys, fercrissake. Maybe he could go pick up the
kid from Valenti's, snatch her, make a play for the money himself.

Howie could just feel that things were turning around for him.
He had a woman being nice to him and it wasn't costing him a
cent. He was on his own and no one was sniggering behind bis
back. He could do it. He could snatch the kid, if it wasn't for

199

200 Ch~rles de Lint

Valenti. Valentj would recogniie him from last night. Howie
didn't doubt that. Too bad, though. Wouldn't it be a laugh,
maybe handing Earl some of the money, because-well, hell-it
had been his idea. Then he rhought of Earl, of how his eyes got,
the way he just blew away that Goldman guy . . . Howie's pleasure
ran trom him

Just then Sherry came down the stairs with Frankie.

"How are you feeling?~, Lisa asked, standing up from the
couch.

"A lot bener," Frankie said. "But if you hadn't come when
you did . . ."

Lisa smiled and waved a hand breezily between them. '1hat's
just the kind of people we are," she said. "Scouring the
backroads, looking for people in distress." The shock of breaking
up the rape and the subsequent excitement had brought them all
down, but while Sherry was cleaning Frankie up, Lisa and Howie
had gone outside for a joint. They were both buzzed again.

Frankie lifted a hand and gingerly touched her throat. "Sdll
. . . " she said. Her voice was a lime husky.

"You're going to be all right," Sherry said. "But once we pick
up your daughter. . . well, I don't think it'd be such a good idea
for you to stay here on your own. If that guy comes back. . . "
Frankie shuddered and Sherry took her by the arm. "C'mon.
You'd better sit down. Now what's the number where your
daughter's staying9"

Christ, Howie thought. I hope they don't want me to go pick
up the kid. He looked at Frankie, really looked at her for the first
time since he'd seen her on the hood of the car. She was sure
some looker. He wondered why Earl had ever dumped a woman
that looked that good. If she was his, he'd never let her go. No
way.

Feeling his stare, Frankie's gax lifted to meet his just then.
Howie started to look away, then found a smile instead. What did
he have to be nenous about? He just wished she wouldn't look at
him with that hurt look. Christ, it wasp's like he'd tried to jump
her or anything. Maybe she just didn't like men or something. He
wanted to look away but found himself caught by her gaze. Then
Sherry made the connection and Frankie looked over at her as she
began to speak into the phone.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to speak to Alice Treasure please. No.
I'm calling for her mother. My name's Sherry Mallon. Iust a
minute." Sherry put her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at

GREEN     ~201

Frankie "He wants to talk to you. He sounded sort of . . . I don't
know. Strange."

Frankie shook her head. `.Oh, God. He probably thinks you're
involved with my ex. He tried to kidnap Ali last night."

Sherry's eyes widened. "Was that him again tonight?"

"Oh, no. That's one thing Earl's never had to do-force a
woman. They usually crawl all over him." She reached for the
receiver. "Here, let me taLk to him."

Sherry handed her the phone, but her gaze went to Howie who
looked guiltily away.

"Hello, Tony?" Frankie said into the phone. "Oh it's you

Tom. I was just-No, I'm fine. Well, there was a little bit of
trouble. .~. . No, please don't. There are some people here who
helped me out and are willing to go pick up Ali. No, it's really
not necessary. No, it was no big thing. Please. Well, all right.
Yes, ~anlcs." She looked at Sherry as she hung up. "He's coming
down."

"Who iSr, Howie asked, a little sharply. That drew another
loolc from Sherry.

'Tony's friend Tom," Frankie replied.

Sherry paned her shoulder. "Sit back and relax a bit," she
said. "You're going to find these waves of feeling weak coming
on for awhile, but don't worry. It's just your body's reaction to
what you went through earlier. You're going to be fine."

Frankie nodded. "I know. But thanks. When I think about
what he almost-"

"Don't think about it," Sherry said. "Not right away."

"But l~nowing he's still out there.. . Maybe I should report
it."

Lisa shook her head. "You don't want to go through that kind
of circus," she said. "I've been there and, believe me, what the
cops put you through is way worse than anything the fucker that
tried to rape you would have."

"She's right," Sherry said. "They'll treat you like the criminal
like it was you egging him on."

"I suppose . . . "

"Believe me," Lisa told her. "You don't want to go through

"Try to rest a bit," Sherry said. Then to Howie, she added,
"Do you want to get a bit of air?"

Here it comes, Howie thought. "Sure," he said. Fuck it. What
could she do to him?"

202 Charles de LInt

* * *

"Something's w~ng down there," Bannon said as he hung up.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

"Well, I'm not waiting here."

Bannon shook his head as Valenti started to get up. "Some.
one's got to stay here in case Ali shows-rememberT'

"Yeah, but-"

"Let me handle this, Tony. I mean, what did I come up here
for? To take hikes in the woods7"

"Sure. It's okay. You're more mobile than me-I can understand
that."

Bannon smiled. "Hey, I know how you feel about this woman,
Tony. I'm not going to put the make on her."

"What do you mean you know how I feel?"

"Hey, if you don't know, you must be the only one."

"C'mon," Valenti said. "What am I doing-mooning over
her?"

"No. But you get a soft look in your eye whenever she's in the
room."

"Fercrissakes, the next thing is you'll have me married off like
some kind of-"

"I've got to go," Bannon said. "We can tallc about this later, if
you want."

Valenti nodded. He watched Bannon check the clip on his
automatic, then thrust the gun back into his jacket pocket. "Take
care," he said.

Bannon glanced at him. "Always," he said, then the door
closed behind him.

lesus, Valenti thought. The wl~o~e world was falling apart. He
got up to stand at the window, but then the phone rang again. He
started for it, favoring his bad leg.

As soon as they were outside, Sherry turned to Howic. "Okay.
What's the story?"

"What's your problem, Sherry? All of a sudden you're-"

She cut him of. "Look. Hanging around with Steve, I've run
into a few things. Some dope dealing, sometimes things that get a
little heavy and someone's got to get patched up, but I don't want
to be any part of this shit-do you understand me?"

"Sure. But-"

"This Earl she mentioned-is that the same guy that came by
with you last nightT'

GREENMAN~

203

Howie nodded. "Yeah. But it's not like what you're thinking."
"No? What do you call snatching somebody's kid?"

"She owes him fercrissakes. She's sitting on so much
money.... " His voice trailed off as she shook her head.

"You just can't leave her alone, can you?" she said.

"What're you talking about? You don't even know this fucking
woman!"

"But I know this old story, Howie. How come the woman

always owes something? What's with you guys anyway? Where
do you come off thinking that anything with breasts and a vagina
automatically owes you anything?"

"Hey, now wait a minute. This afternoon . . . it wasn't me that
started, you know . . . fooling around."

Sherry regarded him steadily. "What's the matter, Howie? You
can't even come out and say it?"

"Well, sure. But-"

'1his afternoon was a bit of fun. I was in the mood to make
somebody happy, and that's all. It sure as hell didn't mean that
I'd stand around while assholes like you and Earl take Frankie for
a ride."

"You don't want to shoot off your mouth lilce that," Howie
blustered. "Earl hears you, he'll . . . "

"He'll what?" Sherry asked.

There was a moment's silence. This wasn't going right at all,
Howie thought. He looked at Sherry, thinking about how it had
been this afternoon. Now she was saying it was like she'd been
feeling sorry for him or something. Like he couldn't get himself a
piece of tail whenever he wanted. And she didn't know Earl.
Earl'd just punch out her lights before listening to her lip.

"What'll Earl dot' Sherry repeated.

"I'd be real interested in hearing about that, too," a new voice
said.

The two of them stared at the newcomer. He'd come so silently
across the lawn that neither of them had heard him coming.

"Who the fuck are you?" Howie demanded, trying to cover his
nervousness with bravado.

Bannon studied the two of them. He'd come in at the end of
their argument, but he'd caught enough to get an idea as to who
and what they were talking about.

"I'm here to see Frankie," he said. "The name's Tom Bannon.
What happened here?"

"It's a little complicated," Sherry said

"Well, how's Fra~cie?"

ZU4 Charles de L~nt

"She's fine. No, that's not right. She's taking it pretty good,
but she's still suffering from a mild state of shock."

"What happened to her?"

"Someone attacked her. We were just driving by and sca~ed
the guy off, but she's still a bit shaken up."

Bannon's gaze went to Howie, but Sherry shook her head.

"No," she said. "That's one thing I doubt he had anything to
do with."

"Hey," Howie said. "I don't need to take this kind of shit. If
you-"

"Get out of my way," Bannon said as he mounted the stairs. "I
want to see Frankie."

Howie moved aside. He glared at the man, then at Sherry. The
fuckers. He was getting sick and tired of being pushed around.
You took a whole lifetime of it, but you had to stand up sometime.
Maybe now-what with his shoulder hurting and the fact
that he'd lost his gun-maybe he had to hold off for now. But he
was going to get even. With all of them.

He met Sherry's gaze before she followed Bannon inside.
Especially with you, sister, he thought. Christ, he wished Earl
was here. Earl'd show them all. They wouldn't be taDcing like
this if Earl was around. They'd all be standing in a line, waiting
to suck his click. They'd do whatever Earl told them to do.

The door closed behind Sherry, but Howie didn't bother following
them in. He stood outside, listening to the night. He kept
thinking that he was hearing snatches of that weird music, but
just when he'd start to listen for it, it would disappear like it had
never been.

That music did something to him. It made him feel strong and
scared at the same time. Like something was going to hunt him
down, but like he could be the hunter if he just stopped being so
shit-assed scared of his own shadow. He wondered if he could
find the spot where he'd dropped 4is gun last night. He wonde~ed
if it'd still be there.

Glancing at the house, he strode off into the night. He'd feel a
lot better with that hunk of steel in his hand.

"TonyT' a man said when Valenti picked up the phone. lhae
~vas something odd about the voice, like it was being run through
electronics to disguise it.

"Yeah. Who's thisT'

"That's not important. Thing is, Mario wants to hnnv-

GREENM~I"

~t's the bottom line on this deal? Someone comes snifflag
around, do we send them home in a box, or whatT'

"No one's got to die on account of me," Valenti said.

"Yeah, but if it comes down to it. . . Say the Don sends in
Pucceri or one of the other heavy guns. There's not going to be
much chance for conversation, you know? Whd do you want?
lust some time, or are you staying bere?"

"I'm staying."

"Then it's going to be a war-you know that, don't you?"

"Sure," Valenti said. "But I don't feel good about it."

"Yeah. Who needs it?"

"Did Mario have his meet with the Magaddinos?"

"Yeah. He talked to Broadway Joe."

"AndT'

"Joe said he was calling it off," the voice said. Before Valenti
could relax, it added: "But he sent in his kid Louie and Jobuny
Maita."

"Shit. So that's it then."

"'Fraid so, Tony. Listen, I'll be in touch. You had visitors
tonight, by the way. I caught Louie Fucceri casing the place, but
I Ict him go till I had a chance to tallc to yw. So maybe you better
bc careful."

"I get the picture."

"G1ad to hear that. CORAGC;IO, Tony."

"Swe."

Valenti cradled the phone. Christ, they'd already been here.
That fast. So what had stopped them? What were they waiting
for? And who the hell did Mario have out in the bush watching
out for him?

1

n~s

Howie couldn't believe his luck. First pass out, taking an easy
amble along the road leading up to Valenti's, sticking to the grass
verge and trying to remember where the stag had hit the car, and
then he just about kicks his piece into the woods. He bent down
and picked the gun up. The weight in his hand made him feel
better immediately. That was the thing about a gun. When you
carried one, people respected you. They just didn't fuck around
when they were looking down that metal bore.

He'd have to be careful firing the sucker, seeing's how his
shoulder wasn't in any shit-hot shape yet. Maybe he'd bc better
off using it left-handedly. He transferred the gun to his left hand.
It felt a little awkward, but nothing he couldn't handle. It wasn't

206

like he was going target shooting. Anything he'd be Sring ait
would be just a coupk of feet away from him.

Unloading the gun . two spent shells and four unfired that he
didn't want to tale a chance on, seeing how they'd been Iying oat
in the rain-hc tossed the contents of its cylinder into the busb
and loaded it with some fresh shells he had in his pocket. All
right, Mr. Cool-talking Tom Bannon. And you, too, Shary. T~e
for you to kiss thc gun.

Grinoiny, he started baclc for Frankie's place.

Ch~ de L~

Bannon nodded a greeting to Lisa, then went dowa oa one
Icnee in front of the chair where Frankie was sittiny.

"How're you doingr' hc aslced.

"Okay, I guess."

"Tony wanted to come down, but I tall~ed hnn out of iL His
leg's giving him some troubb."

"He's all right, though?"

"Oh, sure.'

Franlcie looked past Bannon's shoulder, then her gaze ~nod
to his face. "Where's Ali7'

"Well, you Imow, we weren't sure what was going down so
wc didn't think she should come. Bcsides, with what your friead
a~ tells mc, maybe it'd be a good idea if you spent anod~er
night up at Tony's." Right now, Bannon didn't trust anyone.
Therc'd be tune enough to tell Franlcie about Ali once she was up
at the house.

"I'm so tired of having to always depend on somebody clse,Frankie
said.

"I know what you mean," Ban ~on said. "But what thc hell-
it's just for the night. Until we can figure out what went down
and what we can do about it."

"I wanted to call the police."

"Well, I don't know what they~ could do for you at this point,
but maybe it's not so bad an idea."

"But Lisa and Sherry said I shouldn't-that they'd jwt give
a~e a hard time."

Thank you, ladies, Bannon thought. "Listen," he said. "Why
don't you just.grab a few things and I'll walk you up 00 tbe
house, okay? We can hllc it all out there."

"Surc."

"I'll give you a hand," Sherry said.

Lir,a sI~oolc her head. "My turn."

GREENM~

207

Sherry turned to Bannon after the two women went upstairs to
pack some toothbrushes and the like. "Want to split a joint?"

"No thanks. I don't smoke." He followed her outside and
stood on the porch while she lit up, wrinkling his nose as the
sweet marijuana smoke drifted toward him.

"You disapprove?" she asked.

"No. I'm just not big on sucking any kind of smoke into my
body." He paused a moment, studying the dark lawn and the road
beyond. "What happened?" he asked finally. "How bad did it
get?"

Sherry explained briefly, but with enough detail to make-Ban

non's eyes Hash with anger.

"Wish I'd been here," he said. "I'd havc..." He shook his
head. Tony was going to be pissed. Christ, he was pissed. "So
she didn't know the guy?" he asked.

"Nope. He was driving a beat-up old pickup, but none of us
was together enough to take down the plates."

"And you folks were just driving by?."

Sherry nodded. "Maybe you should know so;nething else.
Howie-thc guy that I was talking to when you arrived? Well,
he's involved with Frankie's ex. He got shot last night. I think
they were trying to snatch her kid."

Who got snatched by a buck deer and a girl with horns instead,
Bannon thought. "Where do you fit in?"

"Earl and Howie showed up at a liQle party up near Calabogie
-that was the first time either of us met them. It's beginning to
bok now like it was a mistake."

Bannon nodded. "You'd better watch out for them-especially
Earl. From what I hear, he doesn't mess around. He plays
for keeps."

"Oh that's just great." Sherry studied him for a moment, then
took a long drag from her joint. "I think we're going to split-
Frankie's going to be all right with you, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Thanks for what you did."

"Sure." Sherry looked over to Lisa's car. "Wonder what happened
to Howie."

"Maybe he went for a walk."

Sherry smiled humorlessly. "Maybe we'll just leave without
him."

The door opened behind them and Lisa and Frankie stepped
outside. Lisa shut off the lights and locked the door while Bannon
took the small Adidas bag from Frankie.

208 Charles de Lint

"If we don't see you again, take care," Sherry said as she
started for the car.

"We'll do that," Bannon replied.

"Hey, what about Howie?" Lisa asked as she followed Sherry.

"Fuck him."

"I thought you were going to."

Sherry didn't bother to answer as she opened the door and got
in. Bannon waited until Lisa was inside as well and the engine
had turned over before he took Frankie's arm. The car's headbeams
stabbed the darkness, lighting up Frankie's car and the
side of the house near the lane.

"C'mon," Bannon said.

He led her down the steps and started for the back of the
house, waving to Sherry and Lisa as their car backed out of the
lane. They were plunged into darkness when the car headed down
the road, but Bannon knew where he was going. He'd been this
way in the daylight already and he had an eye for detail. He'd
automatically filed a picture of the area away in his head so that
he had no trouble leading Frankie across the backyard to the road
that would take them up to Valenti's.

"I can't believe this is happening," Frankie said as they neared
the road. Her voice was quiet, almost natural, but Bannon could
hear the tension in it. It sounded huskier than usual, too. "I
thought Earl was bad enough, but this . . . "

"Everything's going to-work out," he replied. "You'll see."
But he wasn't looking forward to telling her about Ali's disappearance.

"
God, I hope so. Because right now . . . " She turned to look at
him, but the darkness hid his features. "It's like winning atl that
rnoncy included a one-way ticket into a soap opera. Thanl~ God
Ali was staying with you and Tony. If she'd been at home by
herself...That guy was just waiting for me in the driveway,
Tom. And he was crazy. He started off telling me he wanted his
dog back-as though I'd stolerrit or something-and then he
just. . . then he just jumped me." Bannon felt her shudder. "And
there was nothing I could do. Nothing! He was so strong . . . "

"He's dead meat if he shows his face around here again."

"Are you. . . ?" She hesitated. "This business that Tony used
to be in-are you a part of it, too?"

"What kind of business is that?"

"Some kind of study group on the mob."

"Tony told you that?"

"No, Ali did."

GRIEENM~E

Z09

Bannon nodded to himself. Smart kid. "You could say so-
though I didn't have the same connections that Tony did."

"He's pretty hard on himself, isn't he?"

"Who-TonyT'

"I know the look-God knows, I've worn it often enough
myself. There's things he's done that he's not too proud of now.
That's how I &It when I first reatized what I'd gotten myself into
with Earl."

"What do you mean?" Bannon asked, happy to keep the conversation
going in the direction it was. If it kept her mind off
what had happened tonight, if it helped to distance her a little bit
from the immediacy of it, it could only help.

"I found out he was dealing drugs," Frankie said. "Not just a

little bit of weed like everybody was into smoking back in those
days, but hard stuff. I thought he was cleaning offices at night-
can you believe it? Talk about innocence. Instead, he was setting
up these parties where they'd turn on kids who were twelve or
thirteen-Ali's age-selling dope, selling sex.... "

"But you weren't a part of it."

"No. I thought I was pretty together, but I found out I didn't
know a thing."

"Yeah, but-"

"Why do I feel so bad about itT' she said before he could ask.
"How about the fact that everybody knew it was going on but me.
People I thought were my friends-I couldn't figure out why
they were atl drifting away. It got so I never left the apartment
because I didn't have anywhere to go."

"Still," Bannon said, "that's all in the past now."

Frankie shook her head. "It doesn't feel like that-not ~vith
Earl being back."

"You don't have to worry about Earl," Bannon said. "He's
going to be taken care of."

"Maybe-but not by you, blondie."

Bannon and Frankie froze at the new voice. Bannon started to
reach into his pocket, but the barrel of a gun was thrust roughly
against his back. lesus, he thought. How goddam stupid could
you get? He should have reatized when Sherry told him who
Howie was that Howie wouldn't just take off.

The lights of Vatenti's house could be seen in the distance, but
they could just as well have been on the other side of the world
for atl the good they were going to do. A hand went into his
jacket pocket and came out with his automatic.

"Welt, loolc at this," Howie said. "What a pretty tittte gun."

210 Charles de Llnt

Bannon felt Frankie trembling beside him. "Tom," she asked.
"What does he wantr'

Howie grinned, feeling strong. "Maybe I just want you,
babe."

The words were just too close to those of the man who'd
attacked her earlier this evening. The tension that had been
slowly draining from her caught her with a snap. Her chest felt so
tight she couldn't breathe. She smelled the other man's stale
breath again. Felt his hands on her. Heard his voice.

Want you . . . want you . . .

Tearing free of Bannon's arm, she bolted.

"No!" Bannon cried and turned, striking at the gun.

The .38 bucked in Howie's hand. Its discharge sounded like
an explosion as it went off. Shrill against the echoes of the gunshot,
Frankie screamed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Riding the stag.

It was the most glorious thing that Ali had ever experienced
. . . and the most frightening. The wind rushed by her ears, mal~ing
a sound like music; hooves drummed its rhythm. She could
feel the stag's powerful muscles moving under her legs. Mally
held on to her, laughing, while she clung to the stag's neclc,
wanting to laugh, but wanting to cry as well.

There had been that moment of shock when Mally threw her
up onto the creature's back, the look on Tony and Tom's faces as
the stag pranced in front of them, and then it was off and running
and the shoclc gave way to wonder. The stag moved in long
graceful leaps and bounds, never jarring them when it landed,
never throwing them from its back when its powerful leg muscles
bunched and then lifted them all into the air again.

The old stone was gone, Tommy's pipes and thc dancing villagers
with it. The night seemed to belong only to the three of
them and that was when the shock wore off and Ali's fears rose
front and center in her mind. She was alone in the night with
some mythic creature and a wild girl. Abducted. And she-

For the first dme she realized that they'd been running for too
far and too long without cmsing a highway or seeing the lights
of a cabin or a house. The trees they were moving through
seemed different from those of the forest behind Tony's house.
The pines were almost like redwoods, impossibly tall. Between
each pine stand was a wild juinbled bushland of cedar, oak,
maple, birch and elm. The air had grown colder. If Ali turned her
head, she could see her breath frosting in the air.

She looked up as they went speeding through a clearing. A
swollen moon hung low in the sky. The stars seemed too c105c-
the sky too dark, the stars too bright. She had only a momcat for
this to register before they were in thc forest agsin.

The ground was no longer on an even keel. The stag took
them up a gra~l incline that was spotted with thc stone f~ts and

211

Z1;E Charles de L~nt

gnar1y knees of stone outcrops. The sound of the stag's hooves
was louder, as though the ground had become the resonating skin
of a huge earthen drum. Where were they? Ali wanted to ask
someone, but there was no one to hear her. Mally was still laughing
and shouting something that was either in a foreign language
or made up of nonsense words, for it didn't make any sense. And
how did you talk to a stag? She leaned closer against its neck.

"Stop!" she cried. She tried to make her voice as loud as she
could so that it would ring above the sound of the stag's hooves
and the noise Mally was making, but all that came out was a soft
whisper. "Please stop."

The stag turned its head slightly and Ali stared into one large
liquid eye before her mount looked ahead once more.

"I'm scared," she said.

She knew this wasn't Lanark County. She didn't know where
it was,.but it wasn't any place she knew of. They didn't have
trees this big anywhere in the Ottawa Valley. They didn't have
this kind of a forest. It was too. . . primal. This wasn't a place for
mankind-or for girls, either, she thought. It was a wild place.

The ground inclined sharply now and suddenly they burst out
of the forest. The stag's hooves clattered on rock, but it never
slowed its pace. The huge moon was very close now, and the
stars...This wasn't the night sky she knew, Ali thought. Oh,
jeez. What was happening to her?

As they continued to climb at a breakneck pace, she could see
the countryside for miles around. There were no lights, no sign of
lu~uses or men anywhere. Just the big moon shining down, the
stars hanging so low she felt she could reach out and catch them,
and the dark forests stretching out as far as she could see, off into
invisible horizons that were swallowed by the nigm.

She couldott look anymore. Instead, she burrowed her face
against the neck of the stag. The clattering of its hooves and
Mally's wild singing combined with the pounding of her heart
until she got so dizzy she knew ~t any moment now she was
going to &11 off the stag's back. She was going to fall and smash
her head open on those rocks. She'd roll and bump and spin all
the way back down the steep incline that the stag had so effortlessly
climbed. But then the stag slowed and Mally suddenly
broke off her singing.

Ali opened her eyes to see that they were approaching a summit.
Her teeth chattered from the cold and the stag's breath billowed
around her like clouds. She was thankful now for the
warm~ of it on one side, Mally behind her. The stag slowed to a

~__  ~^~"

walk. There were shapes outlined against the sky before them.
Ali thought of pictures she'd seen in travelogs of Ireland and
Britain, and then they were in among the stone formations and
the stag came to a halt. Mally slid down from its baclc and landed
sure-footed on the ground.

'Come on, then!" she called to Ali.

Ali just stared around herself. Thc formations of the stones
~verc like some primal Stonehenge-not raised by men, but by
some freak of nature. Or by the gods. Is that what the gods are?
she wondered. Are they what's responsible for all the oddides
and impossibilities to be found in nature? Maybe those things
were their signatures. The stones towered three times Ali's
height-and she was still sitting on the stag. The big moon,
loomin' close, appeared to be impaled on their peaks.

"All, Ali, in free!" Mally sang.

Ali turned to look down at the wild girl. Mally had lost her hat
and her hair was a bewildering thicket that stuck up every-whichway
all around her head. She was hopping about from foot to
foot, dancing to her own inner music, and for a moment the
chorus from Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" ran
through Ali's head. . .

Mally held up her arms to Ali. Praying to whatever god who
would listen that she didn't fall and crack her head on thc stones,

Ali slid down from the stag's back. Mally caught her.

The stag immediately paced away from them. It stood bctween
two tall rock formations and stared eastward, its antlers
like the bare limbs of a tree thrusting up into the night sky. Ali
moved carefully to see what it was looking at, her legs feeling a
little rubbery. Before she reached the stones, Mally bounded
ahead of her. The wild girl scrambled carelessly right up to what
Ali discovered was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet when she
finally stood beside her.

"What a night," Mally murmured. "What a magic night!"

Ali shivered. Her breath was wreathing around her face, and
while she was wearing jeans and a windbreaker, they weren't
enough for the chill that the night air held.

"Here," Mally said, offering her own jacket.

"But you-"

"-Can run nalced in a snowstorm and not be cold. Don't you
l~now me yet?"

Ali shoolc her head. "A secret," she muttered under her
breath. But she took the proffered jacket and did feel wanner
with it on. "Wbat are we doing here, Mally? Where is here?"

214

a~arles de Llnt

The wild girl shrugged. "Don't really know."

"But we must be somewhere."

"Maybe we're inside the old stone," Mally said with a grin. "I
mally don't know, Ali. This is a place that Old Hornie comes to
when he wants to be close to what he used to be a part of."

"I want to go back," Ali said.

Mally turned slowly and studied her face. "Truly?" she asked.

"Well..." Her mother's face reared in Ali's mind. Frankie
would be worried sick when she found out. And Tony, too. And
she was scared anyway, though not so much, maybe, now that
the wild ride was over. Did she really want to go back? Because
this was it. This was her big chance-her big adventure. This
was what she'd always wished would happen to her. Going
through the wardrobe into Narnia. Down a rabbithole. Doing
something, like Enid Blyton's Famous Five. She'd devoured tales
of adventures and the fantastic, from Joy Chant to Caitlin Midhir,
and had always longed to be the kid that that kind of thing happened
to. To hold the Weirdstone of Brisingamen like Alan
Garner's Susan . . .

"Can . . . can we go back?"

"Go back?" Mally laughed. "It's easy to go back. The getting
here's the hard thing. I can only come when I ride the stag and
then I always mean to stay forever, or at least a week, but I'm
always drawn back. To my own forests, I suppose, thin as they
arc. Or maybe it's Tommy's piping. . . "

"Why arc wc here?" Ali asked.

"For fun!"

Girls just want to, Ali thought. "No," shc said. "I mean, I
understand that, it's just . . . ~~

"Not reason enough? Then look around you, Ali. Breathe the
dr. This is beauty. This is a place that still has its heart."

Ali fumed to look out over the darkened forest again. The air
was cold, but it was invigorating. lt went down into her lungs and
wolce every cell in her body as the chill pure oxygen rushed
through her bloodstream. And she wasn't all that cold anymore.
Maybe she was adjusting to the temperature drop.

"It is beautiful," she agreed.

Mally grinned back at her. "It's beauty. Wonder. Magic. Enchantmcot.
Mystery." Her voice hung onto the last word, instilling
it with something that sent a thrill running up Ali's spine.
"Lewis talks about Old Hornie as though he was the whole of
mystery," Mally added. "As though whatever wonderful beings,
from his Green Man to ancient Pan, were all wrapped up in this

i. .
. ~
: ~

. ~

1
1
. _

GREENMANnE
215

onc being, but it's not so. This-" she swung her arm in a wide
circle "-is the mystery.

"We catch peeks of it, little whiffs of its scent, a breath of its
air, a whisper of its sound, and it sets our hearts a-tremble. That's
why Old Hornie's magical. He's a part of all this. But only a
small part. Hc's a bit that came loose, and while he can return
here, he's no longer a part of it. So he roams our world, looking
for the other bits that've come loose over the years. They're the

mysteries of our world."

"That's it7' Ali asked.

"No. It's not so simple. Mcn have wonderful minds-they
cao imagine. They can do something wonderful that no beastie
can. When some of this magic comes loose and drifts into our
world, men's minds give it its shape. They make a Pan, an Odin,
a lesus. Did Lewis tcil you how the mystery reflects-becomes
-what you yourself project?"

Ali nodded.

"This is why."

"But. . ." Ali shook her head slowly. "Religions are based on
these things, people live by them, believe them.... "

"Religions are based on mysteries," Mally replied. "They
always have been."

"But if they aren't real, then-"

"No!" Mally cut her off. "They arc real. Faerie lies in our
minds, but it's made real by this place. From this place. Gods and
demons and the magics that witches and enchanters use-it's all
real. And all from here. Don't you see? This place is the lifestuff
of beauty. Of Magic."

"But-when you tallc about God and Heaven and everything . . . "

"
You tallc about it. You and Lewis, and the dark man did-
but I don't." She frowned, looking for the most precise way to
tell Ali what she meant. "All those gods and prophets," she said
finally, "they were given their lifestuff from this place, but they
were their own being. Men might have imagined them, but once
they existed, they became what they had to be, not always what
men wanted them to be. It's like the dark man's hounds."

Ali looked nervously around. She'd forgotten about them.

"You'd do well to beware of them," Mally said, "but there's
no need to worry right now. It always takes them longer to reach
this place than it does the stag."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Yes. The darl: man made them, Ali. He made tbem just to

a216 Charles de ~nt

see if he could-out of his disbelief. He didn't want something
like Old Hornie to be in the world. Men made him up, the dark
man said, so he~d make up something to hunt Old Homie down,
but he never really believed that he could. And when he did, he
never really believed they were real. And when he finally
realized they were real, he discovered that he couldn't control
them because such beings are always true to themselves."

"That's awful," Ali said

Mally nodded. "But itts always been that way. The leaders
that men follow must always do away with the leaders that went
before. 'Great Pan is dead,' they cried-not because he was
dead, but because they wanted him to be dead. Him and all his
kind. Yet you've seen his cousin here tonight, you've ridden oo
his back, and I don~t doubt that in some old glade in Arcadia
the old goat's still piping, still making the nights merry with his
magic-or his panic-depending on how you approach him. It
was only the Christians that wanted him gone."

"Lewis doesn't like Christians much either," Ali said.

"Oh, but they~re not the worst, you know. Neither the first,
nor probably the last. Only the most successful-so far. What's
most amusing is that they made Pan into their devil, but it's their
own god's son who's more the old goat's cousin."

Ali shool: her head. "I'm not too clear on whether gods are
real or not, but I can't see that. Pan used to, you know, drink a
lot and chase the ladies."

"He'd catch them, too!" Mally said with a laugh. "But he
wasn't evil. It's just that the Christians made him so."

"But lesus-"

"Preached hve, not hate. Spoke of a heavenly kingdom on
earth. People changed what he said to suit themselves, Ali.
And even Christianity's not the sa~ne now, as it was back then.
When it was growing, it took a bit of this, a bit of that, and
made one thing out of it all until it began to split apart
again-only from the inside out.-Those gospels of theirs-if
you look hard enough through them, you can find a passage to
forbid anything you want, and another to condone the same
thing."

"I never thought of it like that."

"Neither did I. But I talked to the dark man a lot. To Lewis
and others. I learned how to read the truth between the lines
they spolce. I thinlc I would have lilced Jesus. The man-and
the mystery."

"What about your' Ali asked. "Are you a mystery, toot'

Mally aniled. "Oh, no. I'm a seaet-it's oot tb~aune."

1

.

.'
1

GREENM~

217

"I wish you'd stop saying that. Why can't you just tell me
who you are?" Or what, she added to herself. "Lewis said you
were young when he was young-but you never changed.
You aever got any older."

"Is it so important to know everything?" Mally asked.

"The more you know, the better you can understand. How
can I make decisions if I don't have all the facts?"

"What decision is there for you to make?"

Ali didn't have an answer for that.

"I think the world needs its mysteries and its secrets,"
Mally said. "Without us, it wouldn't be sych a merry place."

"The world's not all that happy," Ali said.

"I meant merry as in 'fey'. Without the mystery of what men
call faerie, the world loses its depth. The resonating of our
secret music. The glamor that we lay upon the wild places.
There are mysteries and secrets living in the places that men
have built, too, but they aren't so merry."

"So magic?" Ali asked.

Mally shook her head. A smile that was more bitter than
sweet touched her lips. "No-this time I meant happy. They're
not so happy. Sometimes I'm not so haPW.

"Why did you bring me hereT' Ali asked. She was no longer
so scaled-well, at least not very scared-but she was puzzled.

"Because of the fire in you-lilce the one in Tony." She
pronounced his name "Too-pee."

Ali frowned. "Fire . . . ?"

"A brightness-like a fire of bones." At Ali's confused look,
Mally tried to explain. "On midsummer's night when the
bonefires are lit by the people of the hills to give their greeting
to their mother moon."

"A bonfire?" Ali asked.

"That's what I said. A bone-fire."

"You mean they burn bones?"

"Some-to return a bit of the world's marrow to its mother."
She took Ali's hand and led her back into the middle of the rock
formation's circle. '4This is where they light their fires on that
night," she said, indicating a dark ring burned into the stone. In
the moonlight, it stood out dark against the lighter stone.

"Who are these people?" Ali asked.

"Faerie. Secrets."

Ali smiled. And was it so important to know everything?
Maybe not, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. She glanced

218 Charles de Lint

at where the stag had been, but he wasn't there now. The stone
circle seemed empty except for the two of them.

' The stag . . . ?" she began.

Mally pointed to where they'd entered the circle. A tall figure
stood there overlooking the forest that they had travelled through
earlier. The Green Man, Ali thought, in his cloak of twigs and
leaves. His antlers gleamed in the moonlight.

"Lewis wants to keep him in New Wolding," Mally said, "but
there's not enough people there for him now. Tommy calls him
up, and he ranges too far, picking up the reflections of minds that
don't celebrate him-minds that don't know him, minds that
can't conceive of him. What they reflect back hurts him. It
changes him-makes him wilder than he would be if he were
free."

"Where do I come into it-and Tony?"

"You both have the fire in you-only in you it burns brighter
and you are . . .purer. More innocent to the darkness that men
add to their souls when they leave their childhood behind."

"But what is it that you expect me to do?"

"You could free him."

Ali looked from the Green Man to Mally. "Me?"

"You could do it. It's not that you're the only one who could,
but you're the one that's here, you're near him. So you could do
it. It needs doing. Signal to him with a fire of bones-call him
with the light inside you, rather than with music, and you can
free him."

"On Midsummer's Eve?"

"That would be the best time," Mally said, "but it can be done
any time. I'd do it as soon as you could. Tomorrow night. He'll
hear Tommy playing, but he'll hear you, too. If you call to him
strongly enough, he'll choose you and then you can set him

"Howr'

Mally shrugged. "I don't know exactly. You'll know. With the
moon and the twin fires, inside and out, you'll know."

"Lewis said that if the mystery was to be freed into the world
that it'd be a disaster. He would take all the bad things in the
world and project them back. Everybody'd go crazy and destroy
everything."

"That could happen," Mally said. "If all the world were like
New Wolding. But there are mysteries everywhere and the world,
while it totters one way and another between wars and disasters,
it still survives. No, Ali. It's vety simpb. If the stag stays in New

GREENMANTLE

219

Woldu~g with only a few to celehrate him, he'll no longer be a
positive force. He'll break free and do great damage. If there are
enough people in the village to celebrate him, then all will be as
it had been."

"But you think he should be freed."

"I thh~k you could free him," Mally said-which wasn't
really a reply to what she'd asked, Ali thought. The wild girl
studied her for a moment. "You've ridden him," she said finally.
"You've had your legs wrapped~around his belly and felt the
thunder of his hooves in the forest. What do you think?"

"YQu said earlier that you expected me to free him, but now
you're hedging your bet."

Mally shook her head. "I only said that you could do it. It's
not for me to say what you should do."

"I think 1- want to go home. I'm getting confused and people

will be worrying about me."

"Needlessly."

"But they don't know that."

"That's true. Anyway, the hounds are coming-listen."

Ali could hear them as soon as Mally pointed the sound out.
She'd been hearing it for awhile actually, but it had seemed more
like the wind and she'd been concentrating on what Mally had
been saying. The baying of the Hunt was like the pipes in that
way, she thought. It just kind of crept up on you until it was too
late.

"Does he ever get to rest?" she asked, looking at the Green
Man.

"Oh, yes," Mally said. "Some nights the hounds don't chase
him at all. They're not clever creatures-just persistent."

The sound of the pack was bringing back Ali's fear. Her throat
went dry and it was hard to breathe. She cleated her throat nervously.

"
Can-can I talk to him-to the Gteen Man?' she asked. "Is
tbere time . . . before . . . "

"Befote the pack gets here? Probably. But mysteries don't talk
much-not to those like you and me, Ali. I think it would be
better if we tetutned. [)o you want to go to the stone, or to Tony's
house?"

"Oh, the stone. That's where Tony will be, don't you think?"

Mally closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head.
"No. He's at home."

"What did you just do?'

"I peeked-from here to there. It's much easiet to catch a

220 Ch~es de L]~

glimpse of there from here, then the other way around, thougb
poets and bards and thc like-they can see from there to beret
It's part of tbeir art."

"Can I do it? Can you show me how?"

"I could, but I won't. Not right now. Come, Ali. ~ shouW
go. If the pack catches our scent. . . "

Ali reBarded her, nervousneSS growing. "What would happen?
I thought they only wanted to chase the stag."

"Yes," Mally said. "But if they catch our scent here, tbey'll
thinlc we're from here as well. The dark man set them on the trail
of any mystery, you see. We can't escape them as easily as the
stag, so it's time for us to fly."

She took Ali's arm, but Ali shook herself free of the grip.
Trembling, she moved closer to where the Green Man stood. As
she drew near he turned, and she was lost in those eyes again

liquid and dark, wise and foolish all at once. She tried not to
blink, nor to look away, though she wanted to do both. Iust being
this close intimidated her. But she wanted to see if there were a
need to be free in him. The kind of look some animals had in the
zoo. The look the fieldmouse she'd caught one year had had-
the year she'd decided she \vanted to be like Gerald Durrell and
thought she'd better start early learning how to collect wild animals
as he had. Only she let the fieldmousc go after only keeping
it for a night. Shc couldn~t bear the look in its eyes, the way its
little body never stopped trembling.

So she searched the Grecn Man's eyes, met his garc for as
long as she dared, but finally had to turn away, thc question
unanswered. Looking into his eyes, she felt something grow hot
inside her, a burning. The fire that Mally had been talking about,
she thought. It followed her nerves, sparking along their lengtlm
like an electric shock. Not until shc looked away did shc rcalize
that she was holding her breath.

She let it out, drew in a lunBtul of cold air, then another.
Slowly the burning cooled, but she didn't look back at thc Green
Man. Was it so important to know everything? Maybc it was
impossible to know anything, little say everything, about some
things. But if she had to make a decision about the stag, she had
to know what hc wanted, didn't she?

The sound of the hounds, much closer now, drew her away
from the Green Man's presence. Be a mystery then, she thought.
She rejoined Mally, who was regarding her with a curious expression
in her catlike eyes

"Wl~t did you see?" the \vild girl aslced.

GREENM - 1     ~221

"I don~t know. I'm not sure. Maybe it wasn't so much seeing
something es feeling it. But I don't think he needs me, MaLty. I
don't think a being like that needs anything or anybody."

Mally nodded, though whether in agreement or understanding,
Ali couldn't tell. "He knows how to keep-a secret," she said.

"I suppose. Only how am I supposed to-"

The baying of the hounds was suddenly very close.

"We have to go now!" Mally cried.

She caught Ali by the hand and ran toward one of the stone
formations. It reared above them, its base dark and shrouded in
shadow as the tall heights blocked out the light of the moon. Ali
tried to draw back as they neared it, but Mally raced on as though
she meant to run right into it.

"Mally!" Ali cried, digging in her heels.

The wild girl didn't reply. Instead she scooped Ali up in her
arms. Undaunted by the weight, she sprinted for the stone. Ali
shut her eyes. She expected them to hit it with a jarring impact,
but in the next instant they were tumbling across grass. Mally
landed like a cat, on her feet and running, but Ali sprawled in a

tangle of limbs. She opened her eyes and saw that they were in
Tony's front yard.

A surreal mood fell over her. She'd been dreaming, she was
sure. She'd wandered out of Tony's house and dreamed it all. The
hidden village in the forest, Lewis and the old stone and the
dancers The stag and the wild ride and that.place that the mysterics
came from.

Shc looked at Mally. If she'd been dreaming...Shouldn't
Mally disappear, now that she'd woken up? Or maybe she was
dreaming Mally, dreaming this, too.

The wild girl stepped close and offered her a hand up.

"Thanks," Ali said, deternnined to be polite even if she were
dreaming.

Mally regarded her, a half-smile on her lips. Her hat was still
missing and her hair was a wild nest of burrs and twigs and bits
of leaves. It wasn't a dream, Ali realized as she took in the two
small horns poking out of that thicket of hair. There were a
hundred things she wanted to ask Mally right then and there, but
before she had a chance, the quiet of the night was broken by a
sharp gunshot. Right on the heels of it came a woman's scream.

Ali and the wild girl turned as one to look down the road
leading up to Tony's. They saw figures on the road, the blonde
hair of two of them highlit by the moon. Ali recongized the one

~2

Ch~es de L~

closest to them just before that figure went tumbling to the side of
the road.

"Mom!" she cried and started to run

Mally sprinted ahead of her. With a shock, Ali realized that
the wild girl was growling as she ran.

'1hat's my mom!" she cried after Mally.

Another gunahot stole away her words with the volume of im
report.

.,

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The gunshot lifted him from the captain's chair in the front of the
van. He was out the door, crossbow in hand, before Frankie's
scream tore across it.

He didn't think about where he was going. Automatically,
he'd started for Valenti's house. The sound of the second shot
confirmed the direction and he ran all out, cursing himself for
being so complacent once he'd let Louie Fucceri drive off.
Christ, he could be stupid. Louie could've spotted him, or the
van, and doubled back. Or he could've just sent another team in
once he'd confirmed the target was in place.

He was getting too old for this kind of shit and that was all
there was to it. A man should know well enough when to leave it
alone. Let the young bucks take the risks. It wasn't like he
needed this.

Expecting the trouble to be up at the house, he wasn't prepared
for the struggling figures that suddenly appeared on the
road in front of him. There seemed to be four or five figures in or
around thc action. How big a team had Louie sent in? This
many men, it wasn't going to look good to the families. How
many men could it take to hit a limping ex-enforcer? they'd be
asking.

As he closed in he tried to pick out a target, but it was too
dark and he couldn't make out who was who. A third shot rang
out.

When Frankie screamed and fell, Bannon couldn't tell if she'd
been hit or not. The gun went off close enough to momentarily
deafen him. He turned, trying to hit Howie's gun arm, but was
thrown off by the fact that Howie was using the weapon lefthandedly.
Before he could compensate, Howie fired again.

Something punched Bannon in the side. The force of the bullet
half-lifted him an inch or so, up onto his toes, and then he was
falling backwards. The left side of his torso went numb. A burn

223

~4

Charles de Lint

ing sensation spread from the wound. The whole scene took- on a
pretematural clarity as though he could suddenly see in the dark.
He thought he heard a kid's voice-Ali's voice. He saw Howie
taking careful aim at him, a gun in each hand. No way the bastard
would miss at this range.

He hit the road hard enough to knock the wind from him. The
wound in his side throbbed as though someone had kicked it. He
tried to reach the knife that hung between his shoulder blades, but
he had landed on his right arm and his left wouldn't do what he
told it to. The strange clarity of sight that had come over him let
him look right into Howie's eyes. He knew the exact moment
Howie was going to fire-telegraphed by a certain look-but
then Howie aimed at a new threat. The .38 in Howie's left hand
went off, the shot going wild, as something anacked him.

Bannon couldn't make out what it was. Some kind of animal,
he thought. Growling deep in its chest like a panther. He saw
whatever it was bowl Howie over, then his vision began to blur.
Got to hang on, he told himself. This was no time to be wimping
out. He had a job to do. Tony was depending on him to . . . He
passed out, face fumed into the dirt, before he could finish the
thought.

Howie felt good. Even when Bannon was fuming-the move
quick and sure like he knew what he was doing-Howie wasn't
bothered. He kept a grip on the stolen automatic, but used his .38
to shoot. His first shot was a clean miss, but the second caught
the fucker and blew him off his feet.

He gave a quick glance in the direction that Frankie had
fallen, saw she wasn't going nowhere fast, not that babe, and
fumed back to Bannon to finish him off. What do you thinlc
fuckhead? he thought. Still going to brush right by Howie Peale
like he didn't mean shit? You got about two seconds to feel sorry
for yourself, but don't bother apabgizing.

He tightened his finger on the trigger of the .38, then some
sixth sense wamed him that he was blowing it. He lifted the gun
to meet the new threat, thinking it was Frankie, maybe, except
whatever it was anachng him now, he didn't even thinlc it was
human. He had just a momentary view of it in the darlc. Wild
hair, teeth white in a dark face. He pulled the trigger of the .38,
missed, and then it was on him, beanug hi~n to the ground with
the force of its rush.

He lost both guns. He cried out when his shoulder hit the
l round. There was no time for another sound. A small fist drove

1

. 1

: ~

GREENMANhE

225

into his solar plexus, and then his pain and the need to vocalize it
was gone.

Ali had forgotten how strong Mally was. And how fast. She
ran at the wild girl's heels, meaning to go to her mother, but then
she saw Bannon get shot and Mally attack his assailant. When the
guns flew out of Howie's hands, she pounced on the nearest. By
the time she had it in her hands, Howie was dead.

She started to lower the weapon, then saw a shadow coming
toward them from down the toad. When the crossbow registered,
she didn't even think about what she was doing. She just held the
gun out with both hands and pulled the trigger.

The .38 bucked in her hands and she dropped it, the shot
going wild. The man with the crossbow dove for the verge.
When he sat up, he laid his weapon down on the grass and lifted
his empty hands.

"I'm with Tony!" he cried.

Hands still stinging from the recoil of the .38, Ali found the
gun again and lifted it, trying hard not to shake. "H-how do we
l~now that?" she asl~ed.

Mally crouched over Howie, her cat's eyes gleaming as she
studied thc stranger.

"Fercrissakes, you can asl~ him. I'm here to help him-not
make war on little girls."

Ali frowned. She didn't know what to do. "MallyT' she asked
softly.

The wild girl shrugged, hcr gaze never leaving the man. He
looked at thc two of them, wishing he knew how to handle this.
In another minute the blonde hd might pull the trigger again and
this time she might get lucky and actually hit him. As for thc
other one . . . she was thc size of a kid, too, but he'd seen the way
she'd taken out the guy she was crouched over.

"Look," he said soothingly. "Why don't you just ask Tony,
olcay?"

"Ask him what7'

All three of them turned at the sound of the new voice.

When he got off the phone, Valenti had taken the UZI and a
flashlight and gone outside to make a sweep of his property. He
took his time about it, walking with the flashlight off and stuclc in
his back pocket. He put as little pressure on his leg as he could.

The information he'd received about Louie Fucccri-that
he'd been within yards of the house, fcrcrissakes!-settled in

226 Cl~arles de Unt

~vith numbing force. He'd thought himself very capable, able to
go up against anything the Magaddinos threw at him, but now he
realized that he'd lost touch with it all over the past couple of
years. Lost that hunter's instinct that had kept him alive for so
long.

He had to get it back if he wanted to survive, but he didn't
know if he could. Because it wasn't just being out of touch that
had let him lose it. Something had change inside him as well.
Changed forever.

He'd been a hard man. A hunter. Now he was something else.
He could still get angry, he was still tough, he supposed, but it
wasn't the same thing anymore. Before, the padrone had pointed
him where he had to go. He'd been like a weapon in the Don's
hand. And he'd gotten things done. But now he was thinking
about it, and thinking slowed you down.

He didn't want to go back to what he'd been. He preferred
what he'd become-was still becoming. But he had some unfinished
business. He didn't want to deal with it, but he had to.
Trouble was, he didn't even know if he could anymore. He'd
been following something else now-following the mystery.

That was what it was, he realized. The mystery. The music
had started to heal him, but it was the mystery that was finishing
it. The mystery and the Treasures. It wasn't until he'd met Ali
that he'd understood what he was missing. She'd made him feel
whole again-just like that. And her momma . . . Well, maybe
Frankie wasn't for him, but just knowing a woman like her made
him feel good.

So he was going to stay. And he was going to help Frankie,
too. He'd get Ali back from whatever had stolen her away-
from whatever the mystery really was-and then he'd make sure
that nothing hurt either her or her momma again.

Oh, yeah, Tony, he thought. You're talking the talk, all right.
But what're you going to do?

He came around to the front of tl. house, keeping close to the
woods. He used his cane with his left hand. The UZI hung from
his right shoulder by a strap, his hand on its pistol grip. He had a
32-round box in it, ready to go. Two more were in his jacket
pocket along with the automatic.

Come on, Louie, he thought. Let's stop fucking around. You
had me in Malta, but you blew it. So either do it right, or step
into my sights and let me show you how it's done. No pezzo di
merde like you's going to keep me on the run. Not no more.

He was looking right across his front yard when suddenly two

GREENM~41=

zi~7

figures appeared on it as though they'd fallen right from the slc;y.
Valenti's finger tightened against the UZI's trigger, then relaxed
when he saw who it was. He was about to call out to them, when
the gunshot split the night, Frankie's scseam following hard on its
heels.

Jesus, no! Don't let the Magaddinos make their play now-
not with Ali in the middle of it.

Before he could move, Mally and Ali were on their feet ant
running for the source of the gunshot. A second report followed
the first as Valenti hobbled across his lawn, making for the road.
He saw figures struggling there. Bannon had to be the blonde.

Damn this leg! Valenti cried soundlessly as he saw the man he
figured was Bannon ~ o down. He was still too far away to do any
good himself. Mally and Ali had both reached the scene as a third
shot rang out. He saw the wild girl leap onto whoever had cut
Bannon down. He tried to put on more speed.

By the time he'd halved the distance, tbere was a fourth shot.
Then he was close enough to her them talking and he moved in,
ready for anything. When he spoke, they all turned to him. He
Icept the UZI ready for action.

"Christ, Tony!" a familiar voice said. "Is that you? What do
you say you call off your little Amazons and give an old man a
breakT'

Valenti tuclced his cane under his arm and took out the flashlight.
The beam stabbed the night. He moved it to the man's face,
then let the IJZI hang from its strap as he moved forward.

"What the hell are you doing here, MarioT'

"Helping out. Look, Tony. We got no time for talk. Tosn got
hit bad and I think maybe the woman did, too."

Valenti thought his heart would stop. He'd forgotten the
scream he'd heard earlier. Christ, it couldn't be Frankie.

At the same time as he turned, Ali bolted for her mother.
Frankie was sitting up and the beam of Valenti's flashlight caught
her face. He quickly pointed it away.

"Mom! Are you olcayT'

Frankie nodded slowly. "I can't take much more of this," she
said, her voice still husky. Ali knelt down beside her, and rather
than speaking, she put her arms around her, holding her close.
Valenti started for them, but Mario caught his arm. "We got other
problems right now," he said. He plucked the flashlight from
Valenti's nervebes fingers and played its beam over Howie''
face. "Do you know this monlceyT'

228

Valenti started to shake his head, then looked closer. "He
nught have been with Shaw last night. It's hard to tell, though."

"Okay. Fuck him. We got to look after Tom. You want to get
something on that wound of his while I get my vaar'

"Sure."

Valenti went down carefully beside Bannon and pulled the
blonde man's jacket away from his chest. Jacket and shirt were
coaked with blood. Mario handed him the flashlight.

"Hang tight," he said. "I'll be right back. I got a kit in the
van-but then I got to take him to get patched up."

"Do it," Valenfi said.

He noted that Mally had pulled another of her vanishing acts,
then fumed his attention to the immediate problem. He looked up
when he sensed motion close at hand. Frankie and Ali had approached
him and were standing by.

"Oh, jeez," Ali muttered and looked away.

Frankie swallowed painfully, then knelt down beside Valenti.
"Can I . . . can I help?"

"Yeah. Could you hold the lightT'

It was easier to work with both hands free. He peeled Bannon'
s shirt back, sopping the blood carefully with his own jacket.
The wound was a mess, but he figured the bulla had gone right
through. Bannon was going to need a lot of blood. He was going
to need a helluva lot better attention than what they could give
him, or he wasn't going to make it.

"Any idea who that guy wasT' he asked as he worked, nodding
toward Howie's body.

Frankie cleared her throat. "Tom said he worked with Earl.
That he was with Earl when he tried to grab Ali last night."

Valenti nodded. "Yeah, I thought it was the same guy."

Ali was looking at the dead man, fascinated and repulsed at
the same time. Then she realized that Mally was gone. Down at
the end of the road Mario's van ~arted up. The engine's revving
was followed by the sound of wheels spiMing. A few moments
later the van's headlights appeared and caught them in its glare.
Mario pulled over to the side of the road, then backed up so that
they wouldn't have far to carry BaMon.

"We'll put him on the bed," he said as he opened the back
door.

With Frankie and Valenti's help, he got the wounded man
inside. Grabbing a first-aid kit, he crouched beside the bed and
started to work on the wound.

"He's goMa need blood," he said.

Ch~ de U"

GREEN - N1=

229

"Is he . . . is he goir g to be all right?" Ali asked.

"Christ, I hope so. Tony, I got to go. I can't help him here."

Valenti nodded. "You want me to handle that?" he aslced, indicating
Howie's body.

"No. Haul him up here. Then you got to go, Tony. I don't
know when Louie's coming back and I don't know how n~any
soidati he's bringing, capito? You can't stay."

"I've got to stay."

Mario studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But
then we got to play this at both ends, you know what I'm saying?

If we get rid of Louie and his boys, they're just goMa send
more."

"Whattre you saying, Mario?"

"I'm going to New York after I take care of Tom. Can you hire
any local talent?"

"Fercrissakes, Mario. I don't want you involved anymore."

"Too !ate. Broadway Joe gave me his word and he broke it.
He owes me now. So are you gonna be all right? I'll try to send
someone, but my connections aren't what they could be this side
of the Atlantic. I had a hell of a time just outfitting this van."

Valenti glanced inside. There was a small arsenal in there. It
was outfitted for camping, but besides the weaponry there was a
great deal of what looked like sound equipment. Valend recognized
a sonar device and a couple of listening hookups for taps or
long-range microphones.

"You'd better get going," he told Mario. "We'll woric things
out here."

Mario glanced out the back door to where Frankie and her
daughter were standing off to one side. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Olcay. Corragio, Tony."

Valend shook his head. "So that was you on the phone, wasatt
it? What were you playing at7'

"I didn't know who was listening-if anybody was, you
know what I'm saying? Louie thinks it's just you with maybe
some muscle, he's not gonna play it the same as he would if he
knew it was you and the Fox."

'Yhere's that."

"Okay. I'm going. You sure you don't-"

"You h~ndle New York," Valentd said, "but no big deow,
olcay7'

"I've got some ideas-nice and simple ones. You talce it
easy." Mario thpped his finger against his forehead. "Nice to meet

230 Charles de Llat

you, ladies," he added to Frankie and Ali. "I wish it could've
been under more pleasant circumstances."

Hc got into the captain's chair on the driver's side. Valend
stowed Howie's body in the back, then slammed the door shut.
Mario drove up toward the house where he turned the van
around. As he passed them heading back he blinked his hcadlights.
They stood, watching until his taillights disappeared, then
slowly regarded each other.

"How're you holding up?" Valenti asked them finally.

"I think I need a few things explained," Frankie said.

"Wc can do that," Valenti said. Hc collected thc various
weapons, including Mario's crossbow. "Let's talk about it up at
the house-okay?"

Frankie nodded. She really looked beat, Valenti thought.

Ali slipped her arm around her mother's waist, and he followed
at a slower pace. Christ, hc wished things'd slow down a
little. But he had the feeling that they were just going to get
worse.

He paused at his front door, letting the other two go on inside
while hc turned back to look out across his front lawn. They had
just appeared there, he remembered. Ali and the wild girl had just
appeared on his lawn as though they'd tumbled out of thin air.

"Tony?"

He turned to find Ali seanding by the door. "Arc you okay'
he asked.

She nodded. "How about you?"

"I'm handling it."

"I don't think my mom's doing too good. Are you coming

He followed her inside to find Frankie curled up on one end of
the couch furthest from the door. Ali sat down beside her and
took her hand while Valenti settled in the couch opposite them.
Frankie held Ali's hand gratefully end gave them both a wan
smile.

"Busy night," Valenti said.

Frankie nodded. "Will your friend bc all right?"

'Yeah. I think so. He seemed like a eough guy." Valenti regarded
her, hearing again the touch of hoarseness in her voice.
Then his gaze settled on her bruised throat. Oh, Christ. "Frankie,
what happened to you?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "1. ..1 was attacked
when I got home. There was this man in a pickup...
waiting for me. n

i; ~

i

GREEN MAN I l E

231

Ali's hand tightened on hers.

"lesus," Valenti muttered. "That Howie guy?"

Shc shook her head.

"You mean it was some guy that had nothing to do with your
ex?"

"Not that I know of."

"Fercrissakes. What's going on around here?" Valenti shook
his head. "It's like the whole world's gone crazy all of a sudden.
Did this guy tell you what he wanted?"

Frankie swallowed. "Me," she said in a quiet voice.

There was a long moment of silence, then Ali moved closer to
her mother and put her arm around her. "It's going to bc okay,
Mom." She looked at Valenti. "Isn't it, Tony?"

"Well, we're sure going to give it our best shot."

Silence fell betwocn them again. Ali just held her mother.
Valenti sat uncomfortably watching them, wanting to comfort
them both while trying to fight the anger that was rising in him.
Frankie's eyes held a distant, hun look. When they finally
cleared, shc looked at Valenti.

'Yhat man with the van," she asked. "Is he one of your old
business associates-from when you were doing the study on the
mob?"

Valenti blinked. "Who told you thatT'

"All did."

"Oh." He glanced at Ali, who shook her head slightly from
side to side. Right, kid. Maybe we'll leave it like that for now.
But you and me, we've got a long talk coming to us. "Yeah)" he
saud. "Mario caught me everything I knew about the mob. He was
sOn of my. . . " He searched for the word.

"Your mentor?"

"Yeah. That's close enough."

"Well, he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. And
all that equipment."

"Yeah. Mario's always been good with toys-gadgets, that
kind of thing. Listen." He looked from Ali to her mother.
"Maybe we should be thinking about getting some sleep-what
do you say?"

"I'd like that-oh, my bag! I had some things in it.... "

"It's by the door," Valenti said. "I brought it up. Look, you
-know the way upstairs. You take my bed, Franlcie, and Ali can
have the guest room again."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be fine down here-don't worry about it. Be

232 Ch~es de L"

sides, somebody's got to keep an eye on things in case, well, you
Icnow. I'll sleep lighter down here."

He got the Adidas bag. As Frankie started up the stairs he
caught Ali's arm. "We've got to talk," he said.

"I know. Tomorrow-okay? I'll get up early. Mom's a pretty
beavy sleeper."

"Okay. You got a date."

"She's going to be okay, isn't she, Tony? I mean, she looks
so. . . I don't know. Sort of washed out."

"She's been through a lot of crap. She's not young and resilient
like you, and she hasn~t been through it all before like me.
But she's going to pull out of it fine, Ali. Trust me. She's a tough
lady-she just don't know it."

A]i nodded. "G'night, Tony."

"Yeab. Buena norre. You call rne if you start feeling weird or
you hear anytbing, okay? And tell your momma the same thing."

He watched her go up the stairs, tben headed back to the
couch. He sat there for awhile, massaging his leg, thinking. Tben
he got up and took all the weapons into tbe kitchen. The .38
Howie had used was the only one that had been fired, but when
he had finished taking it apart and cleaning it, he started on thc
otbers. With his hands busy, it was easier to thinl`.

Considering how little time they'd spent in their own house,
Ali was almady beginning to feel as comfortable in Tony's guest
room as she did in her own bedroom. Once sbe was washed up
and had tucked her motber in, she sat on the bed in the nightie
that Frankie had brought up for her and stared out the window.

She was young and resilient, was sbe? She wasn't so sure
about that. She was dealing with it all by pushing it aside and
filing it under "Handle This Stuff Later." She'd had a lot of
practice with that kind of thing. Previous problems hadn't been
quite as stunning as what she'd etperienced over the past fortyeight
hours, but she was finding that she could deal with them in
the same way. It hadn't been easy moving around as much as shc
had, always having to fit into a new school, a new neighborhood.
That was why she'd learned to depend on herself first. She could
handle berself. Hadn't tonigbt proved it? But when she really
thought about it all . . .

Strangely enough, it wasn't the mystery, as either stag or
Green Man, that came to the fore of her thoughts, but wild-haired
Mally. The dddk of just what she was sad what she really

GREEN     ~233

wanted nagged at Ali. Lewis had been very eloquent in explaining
how things should be, even if he wasn't working with the
whole story, while Mally had an offhand manner about her that
gave her reasoning a little too much patness. But Mally had taken
her to that other place. Ali still didn't really know where or what
it was, but it had been something that couldn't be faked.

So should she do what Mally had said, call the mystery to her
with a bonfire and set him free? But what if that was a mistake?
She just couldn't know what to do until the mystery told her what
he wanted and she supposed the only chance she'd have of finding
that out was by calling him to her. The idea both excited and
frightened her.

Talk to Tony, she told herself. Maybe even to Lewis, though
she'd have to be careful with what she said to him. And what
about her mom? What should she tell her? leez, it was all so
confusing.

Some~thing disturbed her thoughts then. It was a sound-not
Tommy's piping-but it sent a similar shiver up her spine. Moving
from the bed to the window, she opened it and leaned close,to
the screen. She could her it more clearly now. It was the paclc.
Hunting. Still chasing the stag, she supposed. But the sound grew
closer and closer, and as she watched they came out of the forest,
dark shapes on the lawn, now dogs, now hooded mor~s. She
wanted to draw back from the window, but their gazes loclced on

hers, holding her in place with- the sheer force of their wills.

If they catch our scent here, she remembered Mally saying in
that other place, they'll think we're from here . . . the dark man
set them on the trail of any mystery, you sec. We can't escape
them as easily as the stag....

Oh, God. Was that why they were out there now? Did they
thinlc she was another loose bit of mystery in the shape of a
teenager?

Uneasily, she watched them moving bacl~ and forth at the edge
of the trees. Call Tony, she told herself. Though what was he
going to do against things like these? Shoot them? She remembered
the men trying to shoot the stag a few nights ago. They
hadn't had much luck. Why should these creatures be any different?

She opened her mouth to call to Tony anyway, but her throat
was so tight that the sound only came out as a squeak. She swallowed
drily, went to try again, but tben saw the pack slip baclc
into the forest, one by one. When the last of them was gone, the
spell holding her in place was gone. She clasod the window

234

a~arles de Llnt

_ _

, 1
: ~

quickly and lay down on the bed, all her muscles feeling lilce
~elly.

If the stag was set free, what would happen to the Hunt? God,
never mind that. If the pack was really after her, what was she
going to do? Lying on her back, she stared up at the dark ceiling
and wished that the world would slow down. This is what hap~
pens when you think an adventure would be fun. You forget
about the scary parts, but by then it's too late. You're stuclc right
smaclc dab in the middle of it.

She didn't think she'd sleep, not wound up as she was, but as
she started planning how she~d try to find Mally tomorrow, her
eyelids began to droop arid she fell asleep right in the middle of a
thought.

Frankie didn't find sleep as easily. The shakes hit her soon
after she lay down and nothing seemed to ease them. She grabbed
a fistful of sheet with each hand and twisted and turned and then
the cramps started. No matter how she lay, she couldn't alleviate
them. They were lilce menstrual pains, only far more severe. The
muscles of her abdomen seemed to knot in a series of muscle
spasms that left her weak and teary-eyed from the pain. This was
the second time they'd hit tonight.

The first time had been ,,yben Sherry had taken her upstairs at
her own house and was helping her from the shower. If she'd
been alone, she would have collapsed right there in the bathtub,
but Sherry had seen the problem immediately and helped her into
the bedroom and onto the bed.

"Do you have any Valium?" she'd asked Frankie. "Any kind
of muscle relaxant at all?"

Mutely, Frankie had shaken her head.

"Olcay. Iust lie still. Your body's having a reaction to what
you went through. Sometimes it ~alces a little while to hit, but
nobody gets off clean. Try to straighten your legs. That's right.
Now lie still. Don't breathe too quickly-you're going to hypervent~
late. Iust take it a breath at a time. In. Hold it. Okay, now
let it out. Hang on. Now in again . . . "

The pain had eased after awhile, and as Franlcie followed
those instructions now, the new knots began to slowly unravel.
These cramps were longer in leaving, but they'd been far more
severe. She wondered if she should ask Tony if he had any Valium
but didn't dare get up. What if she collapsed at the top of the
stairs and feU right down them? Or. . . If she stumbled at all . . .
She couldn't bear the thought of him helping her up, of him

GREENMANll.E   235

touching her. It wasn't Tony personally. She couldn't stand the
idea of any man touching hes right now.

In and out. She went back to the slow breathing as her panic
fed new torment to her abdomen. God, why did her body have to
be so weak? Why couldn't she step out of this . . . this memory?
For that was what it was. She felt unclean-even after two
showers, one at home earlier, another here before she went to
bed. But no matter how hard she had scrubbed, she still felt
soiled. In. Hold it. Let it out. Wait a moment. In.

What if this feeling never went away?

Stop it, she told herself. In. Hold it. Out.

She was going to pull out of this. She was going to rise above
Earl and this goddamn rapist. That's why she'd moved back to
Lanarl`. Not to find someone new to lean on, whether it was
Tony, some other man, or even Ali. She was here to stand on her
own two feet and nobody was going to stop her. In. Hold it. Let
it out. It was hard to maintain the slow-breathing as her anger
grew, and finally she just let it wash through her. The cramps

didn't get worse. Instead, the anger seemed to clean her. If only
she wasn't so goddamned useless!

No. There was a big difference, she told herself, between
leaning helplessly on someone and lening someone be a fnend,
helping out like a friend would. That's what Tony was doing.
Being a friend to both her and Ali. Like she had been a friend to

IJoy Goldman. That wasn't giving up control to someone else.
IThat was just doing what everybody was here on this earth to do.
|Not just looking out for number one, but doing what they could
Ito leaving the world a better place than it was when they came.
'God, that was such a sixties ideology, she thought. But then

she was a child of the sixties. Those years had shaped her, leaving
a far more lasting impression than the subsequent decade and
a half. So she had to follow it. She had to go on. Deal with Earl,
deal with the bastard who'd anacked her, but then go on. Just
because they were dead to what was around them, didn't mean
they were going to leave her feeling the same. She wouldn't let
them win.

But she couldn't help wondering, as she looked around the
shadowed corners of this strange room, what that man in the
pickup was doing right now. What kind of thoughts were going
through his head? How could he just go out and do what he did to
someone he didn't even know? Or had he driven by her house,
seen her working out in the yard perhaps? Or spotted her in Perth

236 Charles de Lint ~$

or Lanark and followed her home one day to sec where she lived?
What hole did people like that crawl out of?

She got up as the last of her cramps eased and went to fool:;
out the window. I'm not going to let you win, you bastard, sho
thought out into the night. Not you in your piCkUP and not Eari.
This is it. I've run as far as I'm going to run. ~he next time you
come for me, remember that. Because if hurtidg you is what it s
going to talce to leave the world a bener plac~, then that's wha t
I'm going to do. Believe it.

She felt strong for the first time in days. 1~'st standing there
the floor cool under her bare feet, her arms wiaPPed around her
flannel-clad body, she felt as though she reall, could deal with
things.

She thought about the walk up from her ~ouse, the sudden
violence, a man dying, Tom Bannon hu~t, the guns...
Surprisingly, she wasn't disturbed by that asp~ct of what she d
gone through. Maybe it was because she'd still been in a state of
semi-shock. It had all happened around her with a certain blur.
All she could think of was that in the morning she was going to
ask Tony for one of those handguns. She was go~ng to ask him
for it and get him to show her how to use it. How to take it apart
and put it back together. How to do whatever it was you did to
things like that to keep them in good working O`der

When she finally fumed from the window ~nd climbed back
into bed, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the ptllow

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

'.Hey, don't take it so bad," Lisa said as she pulled out onto the
highway. "It's not like you had an investment in the guy or anything.
t'

Sherry nodded. "I know. But it still pisses me off. I should
have gone with my gut feeling when I first saw him. The guy's a
womm."

"Ah, but a poor hurt worm," Lisa said. '1hat's the trouble
with you, Sherry. You're a sucker for anything that's feeling a
little pain."

"I should have become a vet then. At least animals don't turn
uound and bum you."

"I suppose. Frankie seemed pretty nice, though-don't you
think? What pisses me off is what she had to go through. But that
guy that came to picl: her up-now he was something else."

"Don't you ever think of anything else, Lisa?"

"Once in awhile-but I'm working on cutting it out. You
want to light up a joint?"

"Sure>"

Lisa laughed suddenly. "Christ, I'd like to see lime Howie's
face when he finds out he's got to walk back to wherever it is that
he came from."

Sherry smiled. "Let's hope he's got a lonl way to go."

By the time they got back to Steve's cottage, the joint had
done its trick and they were both feeling better. The lights were
on inside, but except for Steve, no one else was around.

"Christ!" Steve said when they came in. "Where the hell've
you been?"

The two women looked at each other, then baclc at him.

"What's your problem?" Lisa asked.

"What's my problem? I'll tell you what's my problem. Earl
Shaw's called three times looking for his lime buddy, that's my
problem. What happened to him?"

"He wanted to go for a drive," Lisa said. ù'And then once we

237

238 au~es de Llnt

got to where we were going, he wanted to stay there. What difference
does it make?"

"Look. You don't know Earl. The fucker's insane. He left his
buddy here and now he wants him back. When he finds out the
you've dumped him somewhere, there's going to be hell to pay."

"Come on, Steve," Sherry said. "What's he going to do-sue
us? If he tries to get tough, just sic a couple of your biker friends
on him.'

Steve shook his head. "This guy kills people."

Sherry blanched. Lisa patted her shoulder. "Don't worry,
Sherry. I'll talk to him. Did he leave you a number, Steve?"

"It's by the phone. Listen, Lisa. Don't expect any favors from
him just because you balled him last night."

Lisa gave him a withering look as she went to use the phone.

Lance took the first corner past the Treasure house in a slcid"
ding slide, his rear tires spitting dirt and gravel. He almost lost
the pickup right then and there, but the sound of the engine's roar
and the wheels bouncing in the potholes, the lack of shoclcs that
made the whole truck rattle, it all served to bring him back to his
senses. He slowed down a little but pointed the pickup on down
the road. He'd really done it now. Christ, that woman would have
the police on him....

He couldn't face that. Couldn't face the idea of being booked,
of the time in court, but m-ost of all he couldn't face Brenda.
What could he tell her? That was the hardest thing. Because he
didn't regret the deed itself. That was something he'd always
imagined doing, just grabbing some good-looking high-class
woman and tearing into her. Yessir. But he'd never had the balls
to actually do it-not until that goddamn music egged him on.
And it had felt good, too.

For once he'd been in control. If he'd had the time, that
woman would have done anything he told her to, just to keep on
his good side. Yessir. A moment like that balanced against all the
bowing and scraping for welfare checks. It didn't make things
better. It didn't ease the pain and confusion of the bank taking his
house and land and then renting the suckers back to him. Tallc
about a kiclc in the balls. It didn't make the little bit of money
stretch any farther. Didn't make damn near begging for makework
feel any better. But goddamn, for one moment there he'd
really been in charge. And that had been great-though it would
have been even better if he hadn't got caught.

How long would it take for the police to get out to her place,

GREEN~AN~

!
l
l

,

\,

, 1
:

. l
, 1
1

.Louie and Fingers were sitting on the bed. Between them was

a suitcase. Louie was drawing a map on a piece of paper, using
the case for a flat surface. "Okay," he was saying. "There's a
door here. Window. Window. This might've been a cellar door
-maybe just a root cellar. I don't know."
Fingers nodded. "Simple's the best way. One of us in a side
239

listen to her story, then come to get him? He slowed down and
pulled over to the side of the road. Christ, what was he going to
tell Brenda? She'd stuck by him through a lot of shit-a hell of a

lot more "for worse" than "for better." But she wouldn't stand by
him on this.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see against his eyelids was
the woman's frightened face, the white of her flesh in the moonlight
as he tore at her clothing. Buddy Treasure's little girl, all
grown up and his for the taking. If only that other car hadn't
shown up.

Christ on crutches. But if he was going to pay for it
anyway.... He was almost tempted to go back and see if those
people.were gone, maybe finish the job if the police weren't there
guarding her. If they hadn't taken her away. But what if she
hadn?t called them? Hell, what if she didn't know who he was?
Just because he knew her didn't mean she'd remember him. It
had been years since her mother ran off with her. Why the hell
should she remember Lance Maxwell? She could be just Iying
there alone in her house right now, thinking it was over....

He shook his head, trying to get it to clear. Christ, but it
ached. It was just filling up with a kaleidoscope of images of the
wonum and him. Riding her wouldn't be like doing it with
Brenda. Hell, no. This one was young, smooth like a doe, and he
could be her buck deer, yessing

He blinked his eyes open and stared through the windshield
into the night. What the hell was he doing? Thinking of going
baclc? Christ on a cross, she'd be talking to the police right now
-giving his description. maybe even remembering his name
from when he used to do some odd jobs around her old man's
place.

Panic reared in him again, but he shoved it roughly down.
Ease up, Lance, he told himself. Only one thing you can do now.
The decision came hot and hard, like the way the music put the
fire between his legs.

He shifted the pickup into first, turned on the headbeams and
headed down the road again.

240

Charles de Llnt

window, then go in the front and the back. If we do it quick and
easy-"

"I don't want the place to look roughed up," Louis said.

"Yeah, but this other guy-you couldn't make him?"

"Must be local talent."

"Okay," Fingers said. "But you've got two of them to worry
about now-no way you can do it clean."

"I got an idea you're gonna love," Louie said.

Sitting by the window, watching the pair of then., Earl could
only shake his head. Christ, had they been watching too many
caper movies or what? Looking at them, you'd think they were
planning a major heist, not just knocking off a couple of jerks-
even if one of them was Tony Valenti. Listen, he wanted to say,
just let me handle it, but then the phone rang.

"Yeah?" he said in the mouthpiece.

"Hi, Earl. Lisa here. Steve says you're looking for Howie."

"That's right. I thought he needed some rest. What did you do
with him-take him out bar-hopping or something? Listen, put
him on, would ye?"

"I can't. He asked us to drive him down to Lanark-over to
your ex-wife's-and we left him there. We just got back."

"You did what?" Earl looked up to find both Louic and
Fingers watching him. He tried to compose his features.

"I said we just got back," Lisa repeated.

"No. What I want to know is where did you take him?"

"What do you mean?"

"What the fuck was hc going to see her for?"

"Well, he wouldn't tell us," Lisa explained. "He said you'd bc
mad, but he did mention something about fixing things up between
you. Hey, I didn't know you had a little girl, Earl. You
never told me that last night."

"How long ago did you leave him?"

"Oh, I don't know. An hour maybe?"

"Right. Thanks for calling."

Earl hung up, thinking: And maybe we'll talk some more,
depending on how much Howie told you. He shook his head.
Christ, Howie. You fuckup. He'd had to tell the wops about him
once he realized Howie was gone, losing the edge of having a
hole card on them.

"Who was that?" Louie asked.

"lust one of the girls that I left my partner with."

"What happened-he take off?"

"Something lil~e that."

GREEt4MANlIE

W1

"Who'd he go seeT' Louie wanted to know.

"Look, that's my problem," Earl said. "You stick to Valenti
and let me worry about what's my business."

Louie glanced at Fingers, then back. "Was it your ex-wife hc
went to see? The one with the money that you're hoping to use to
finance your deal with my old man?"

Earl stared at him, stunned. "What the fuck would you know
about thatT'

"You don't think we check into people we do business with?"

"Cute. Who'd you check me out with? The Better Business
Bureau?"

lungers stiffened, but Louie shook his head. "Don't play the
smartass, Earl," he said. "Maybe you're big stuff up here, but in
the circles we run in, you're just a small-time hood, capito?"

"Sure," Earl said. This wasn't the right time for him to make
his play.

"So your wife-she knows Tony?"

'Now how-"

"Think about it," Louie said. "What else are you doing up in
the bush where you just happen to run into Tony, but sniffing
around her? So answer the question. Does she know Tony?"

"Looks like."

"This complicates things," Louie said.

"What the problem?"

"First off, we don't make war on women and kids."

"Sure," Earl said. "But that's only in the family-right?"

Louie shrugged. "Maybe so. But it's never good business."

"Look, like I said. You let me handle them, olcay? What've
you got to lose, fercrissakes? It's not like-"

He broke off as a sharp rapping came at the door. Fingers
moved silently from the bed and took up a position by the wall
near it. He drew his gun and attached its silencer. Louie nodded
to Earl.

"Open it," he said.

Earl crossed to the door and jerked it opened. A large wheeled
laundry hamper stood in the hall in front of their door. "What the
fuck?" he muttered and looked both ways down the hall, but it
was empty so far as he could see. As he started to reach for the
cloth that was covering the hamper Fingers stopped him.

"Easy," he said. "That could be-"

"Oh, fercrissakes," Earl said. "This isn't some fucking movie.
What do you think? There's gonna be a bomb or a stiff in there?"

He laughed as he caught hold of the edge of the cloth and

242 Charh~s de Llr~t

flipped it aside. The laughter died in his throat as he looked down
into the pasty-white features of Howie Peale's corpse.

"Oh, fuck," he said.

Louie and Fingers looked inside. Fingers reached down and
plucked a silver stick pin from the front of the corpse's jacket.
The head of the pin was a small sculpted fox's head.

"Papale," Fingers said. "He's warning us that he's in."

Louie nodded. "Get rid of that thing," he told Earl, indicating
the hamper. "Then we've got some serious thinking to do."

Lance turned off the ignition after pulling in beside his house.
He sat in the truck for a few moments, then got out and slowly
walked around to the front. Standing near the road, he looked
back at the building.

There was a light on in their bedroom-that was whe~e
Brenda would be. Another light on in the kitchen and on the front
porch. For him. That's how it was when he was coming in late.
She always left those two lights on for him. What was she going
to think when she found out what he'd been doing while she leR
those lights on for him tonight? He'd taken off this moming
without a word and then tried to hump Buddy T'easure's little
girl, only she wasn't so little anymore, was she?

It was Brenda's disappointment that was going to be the hardest
to take. She'd stood by him through a lot of hard times.
Losing the farm. Losing both the boys-the one in an accident
with a thresher, the other to drunk driving. And his ma and pa
What were they thinking when they looked down on him now,
when they saw what he'd done to the Maxwell farm-six generations
it'd been in the family-when they saw what he'd done to
the Maxwell name.

It wouldn't matter, probably, except that he got caught.

Time's wasting, he told himself. You know what you came
here to do. He headed for the house, wishing he could hear that
music one more time.

"What did you tell him that forr' Sherry asked when Lisa got
off the phone. "Now he's going to take it out on Frankie."

Lisa shook her head. "He can't do that. He knows that we
know now-so what can he do? If anything happens to Frankie,
he knows we can go to the police."

"What makes you think that'll stop him? Maybe he'll come
after us now."

"I know this kind of guy," Lisa insisted. "He talks big, but-

GRI~NMANtLt

"You're wrong," Steve said. "Earl Shaw's one crazy motherfuclcer.
Bclieve it. If I were you, I'd be planning a long vacatico
somewhere until this all blows over. That's what I'm going to do,
I like having my balls all in one piece."

"C'mon, Steve. What can he dor'

"I don't know, but I'm not hanging around to find out. It's
going to talce him forty-five minutes or so to get out here, if he
comes here first, and I plan to be long gone in the next five."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got a friend who's got a chalet up in Wakefield-s0~2 one
Earl doesn't know."

Lisa glanced at Sherry. "You're scared, aren't your'

Sherry nodded. "You're not?"

Lisa thought about that for a moment, about the Icind of man
Earl had appeared to be last night. A little rough, full of himself,
sure. But crazy?

"I saw him talce a tire-iron to a guy once," Steve said. "You

want to Icnow what for? The guy was leaning against Earl's car."

~"For real?" Lisa asked.
|Steve nodded. The two women exchanged glances, then Lise
'  turned to him. "Take us with your'
I"If you're ready to leave in four minutes."

"You're on."

Brenda Maxwell was Iying in bed when she heard her husband'
s pickup pull into the lane. Thank God. He was finally
back. She'd made an appointment with Dr. Bolton for him for
tomorrow morning. Now she just hoped she could get him to
keep it. She listened to his footsteps in the lane, heard them fade.
He's gone to the grave, she thought. She'd stood over it herself
earlier today, thinking about poor old Dooker, of how things had
changed. Whatever demons were driving her husband, she just
hoped it wasn't too late to drive them away.

She was about to go downstairs and call him in when she
heard the front door open and his workboots clomping down the
hall to the kitchen. Should she get up and fix him something to
eat? He'd missed breakfast, lunch and dinner, unless he'd eaten
out. Where in God's name had he been all day? Before she could
get out of bed and go downstairs, she heard the back door open
and the screen door creak on its hinges, then slam shut. No~r
what was he doing?

Her feet found their worn slippers and she put an old housccoat
on. It was darlc in the hallway and on the stairs going down,

a~ ~r~ u~: ~u

but she decided not to turn on a light. Lord knew what was going
~rough his mind at the moment. She didn't want to spook him
Not with the appointment set for tomorrow morning. Not when
she'd have somebody to help her deal with this thing.

She went down the stairs slowly, fingers trailing along the
banister. Keep remembering those good times, she told herself.
So times have been rough. They'll get bener again. She muttered;
the words to herself, using them as a litany as she practiced them.

She had to convince him.

Her foot was just leaving the last stair when the sudden report
of the shotgun being fired sounded like an explosion outside. She
jumped, almost falling from the stairs, and recovered only by
clutching the banister.

She knew before she reached the kitchen and flicked on the
backyard floods what she was going to see. But she went through
the motions all the same. It wasn't until she stood on the porch
and could actually see him sprawled across Dooker's grave, the
shotgun Iying nearby and the ground splattered with his blood,
that she slowly sank to her knees. Leaning her head against tho
6upport pole of the porch, she tried to pray, but all she could find
were tears.

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CHAPTER
NINETEEN

"'Lo, Lewis-Lily."

Lily looked up sharply as the disheveled figure swung dowo
from a tree above them and settled on her haunches to stare at
them. There was no hat hiding her matted curls tonight, and for
the first time Lily saw the small horns lifting from Mally's brow.
Her eyes widened slightly, but then she nodded. She should have
guessed that the wild girl was more kin to the mystery than to the
village.

Lewis had always talked about her as though he'd known her
for years, but since it was only fairly recently that Mally had been
seen around the village and joined them in the dance, Lily had
never really put a great deal of mind to what Lewis had told her
about the wild girl. Lily had just assumed that this Mally was a
daughter or granddaughter of some other Mally that Lewis had
known.

"You're back," Lewis said.

"That I am. What a night it's been.
"
The girl you took?"

"I brought her to her home."

"Why did you take her, Mally?"

The wild girl shrugged. "I wanted to show her a thing or two
before you filled her head with too much bookish nonsense."

"Nonsense? You little scamp! You're the one that started me
oo all those books in the first place."

"llut only because you'd never stop asking questions," Mslly
replied with a grin.

Lily laid her hand on Lewis's arm, calming him. "So Ali's
safe with her family?" she asked. "We heard some gunfire, you

.2D. n

;'It had nothing to do with us," Mally assured her.

"Well, that's a relief. We were very worried, what with Ali
disappearing and those men that came with her being so angry."

Mally nodded. "Well, I've got to go now."

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246

Charles de Lint

Movement by the stone caught their attention. Tommy stood
up and thrust his pipes into his belt. He looked at them, a grin
resembling Mally's touching his lips before his usual vacuous
look came over him and he yawned. Whatever possessed him
when he piped was gone and he was just plain Tommy Duffin
again. He walked slowly by them without a word, Gaffa at his
heels. They took the path down to the village.

"How old are you?" Lily asked. Lewis looked over at Mally,
very curious as to how she would answer.

"Don't know," Mally replied. "I lost count a long time ago."

"Fifty years old?" Lewis asked. "A hundred?"

Mally laughed. "Oh, much older than that, Lewis!"

It was hard to tell if she were joking or not. Finally Lily
asked, "What sort of being are you?"

"Just me." Her gaze caught Lily's. "I'm a secret-that's all."
She laughed again and stood up. "But I'll tell you this, tomorrow
you'll see some moon magics and won't they be fine! Your piper
can pipe the whole night long, but tomorrow old Hornie will be
jumping a fire of bones and too busy to pay your dancers a call.
See you then!"

"Mally!" Lewis cried, but she had already melted into the
forest without a sound.

"What did she mean, Lewis?" Lily asked, taking his hand.

"I don't know," he replied. "I never know what she means.
But sometimes I think that if I ever do, I'll wish I had never
wanted to know in the first place."

"Now what do you mean, Lewis?"

He shook his head. "You know I've told you about the mystery
and how wild it could get if we didn't take care of it the way
we have for all these years?"

"Yes. But. . .7'

"I think Mally might be wilder yet."

He rose to this feet, joints cracking, and helped Lily up. When
she seemed as though she were going to tallr some Tnore, he laid a
finger against her lips and shook his head.

"Let's just walk," he said.

Part Three:
A FIRE OF BONES

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Beloved Pan and all ye other gods
who haunt this place, give me beauty
in the inward soul; and may the outward
and inward man be one.

-Plato,
from Dialogues, Phacdnas,
sec. 279

'4This is the place of my songdream,
the place the music played to
me," whispered the Rat, as if in a
trance. "Here, in this holy place, here
if anywhere, surely we shall find
him!"

-Kenneth Grahame,
from The Wind in the Willows

CHAPTER ONE

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Ali woke early on lbesday morning. Neither the late night nor
thc excitement of the past few days could keep her in bed. She
felt invigorated and alive. There was so much to do today! The
house was quiet as she dressed. By the time she came downstairs
though, Valenti was making a pot of coffee in the Icitchen.

"Hey, Icid," he said as she took a seat at the kitchen table.
"How's it going?"

"Okay. My mom's still sleeping."

"Gives us a chance to talk, then."

"I guess. Have you heard about Tom yet? Is he okay?"

Vslenti shook his head. "I'm still waiting for Mario to call."

"But he's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"I sure hope so, Ali. You want some of tints?" Valenti tapped
the coffee pot.

"Sure."

He brought milk and sugar to the table, returning to the stove
for the coffee. Ali filled her mug about a third full of milk before
pouring her own coffee. Valenti laughed as she began to spoon in
her sugar.

"Having a little coffee with your milk and sugarT' he asked.

She stuck out her tongue. Valenti fixed his own coffee and the
two of them sat in a companionable silence, sipping the hot liquid
and enjoying the moment of peace. It was VaJenti who finally
spoke.

"So whst happened to you lsst night?"

Ali frowned, playing with her spoon. "It's sort of hard to
explain. . ." She looked up, caught his gaze for a moment, then
loolced away. "It doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

Try me.

Shc toolc a quick breath and glanced at him ag~un. He smiled.

'~ake your time," he said.

"Ohy. When the stag toolc off, it didn't iwst go into the woode
249

250

Charles de l~nt

behind the stone. It went . . . someplace else-maybe even into
the stone, for all I know....

"So what do you want to dot' Valenti asked when she finally
ran out of words.

Ali liked that about him. Unlike most adults, he talked to her
as though she might have an idea or two of h-er own and he was
willing to listen to them.

"I don't know," she replied. "I feel like I should do what
Mally says-or at least call the mystery to me to see if 1 can get
him to talk to me, or communicate what he wants in some way. If
it's what he wants, I guess I'll do it. I'll set him free. If I really
can. But what if Lewis is right? What if letting him go really
would be a danger?"

"I guess it comes down to which of them you trust the most,"
Valenti said.

"I suppose. Lewis makes sense because everything he says is
pretty well based on what we know the world to be. The mystery'
s the only magic thing with him. It's different with Mally-
everything's magic around her. I mean, jeez. Just look at her. But
I don't know if I really trust either of them. I get the feeling that
they're both looking for something for themselves out of all this.
Lewis wants everything to fit into a neat little box and he wants
to control when to open it and when not to."

"And Mally?"

"I'm not really sure what she wants. She's so different. Somedmes
she acts just like another kid-but sometimes she acts like
she's a thousand years old."

"Maybe she is," Valenti said. "Considering what she told
you."

Ali regarded him sharply. "Y6u don't really think that, do
you?"

"I guess not," he said with a laugh, but he didn't sound all that
sure.

"What would you do, Tony?"

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "That's not for
me to say. You and me, we come from two different directions,
you know what I'm saying? If Mally wanted my decision, I figure
she'd have come to me. I think this is something you got to
decide for yourself." lust like your momma's got her own things
to work out for herself, he thought. "But I'll tell you this, Ali.
Whatever you decide, I'll back you all the way."

"Even though I'm just a kid7' she couldn't help aslcing that.

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GREENMANTLE

251

For all that she was happy that be treated her like an equal, she
still couldn t shake that little nagging doubt that maybe she was
too young for some things.

"Just a kid, just a kid. Fercrissakes, Ali! Don't lay that on me.
You got more smarts than most adults-understand? Don't you
ever let nobody tell you different. Stuff you've gone P~rough-
most people I know would've just folded a long time ago."

"I'm not that brave," Ali said. "And it wasn't really scary."

"Bullshit it wasn't."

"Well, maybe a little at first. . ."

"So'l'll say it again: What are you going to do?

Ali sighed. She put off the moment by concentrating on fixing
a new mug of coffee. Valenti didn't push, but she knew he wasn't
going to let her leave the table without a decision.

"Okay," she said finally. "Here's what I'm going to do. First
I'll try to get hold of Mally talk to her some more. But while
I'm doing that, I'm going to go see Lewis again. I've got a little
more background now and I think I'll be able to make more sense
out of what he means than I could before."

"What about the mysteryT'

"I'll call him with the bonfire. But it's got to be up to him
what happens from there on."

"What if he can't tell you? You know, wbat if he's mute or
something?"

"I don't know, Tony. Maybe I'll have made a decision after
talking to Mally and Lew~is so I'll know what to do if that happens."

'.
Ihat makes sense," Valenti said. "You talk to your momma
about this yet?"

Ali shook her head. "And there's no time to now, Tony. I've
got to go right away if I'm going to get everything done by
tonight."

"I can't let you go by yourself."

She met his gaze and held it. "You can't stop mc, Tony."

"Your momma-"

"Look," she said. "Mom's going to need someone around her
in case my-" she stumbled over the word "-in case my father
comes back. He'll look for her at our house, and maybe up here,
but there's no way he'll be tramping through the bush looking for
me. I mean, get real. So she'll be safe with you, and I'll be save
in the woods."

"Why don't you just wait for her to get up-or go wake her
and talk it over now."

a252

Charles de Lird

"She'd never believe me. I hardly believe any of this myself,
and I've seen Mally and the mystery. Besides, I think she
needs to sleep, Tonv. You've seen how rough things've been
for her. I'll

talk to her when I get
back."

"She's going to kill me."

"She doesn't have to know. Iust tell her that I've gone for a
walk in the woods-along the trail, you know? Tcll her that it's
perfectly safe."

Valenti sighed. "Okay. But I don't thinlc this is such a good
idea."

"You told me it was something I had to decide for myself,"
Ali said, throwing his own words back at him.

"Yeah. I said that all right. So go. But have something to est
before you take off."

"I'll make a sandwich that I can eat on the way."

Valenti shook his head and smiled. "You got an answer for
everything, don~t your'

Ali grinned baclr at him. "Somebody's got to-rightr'

"Right."

Valenti thought about giving her a gun-one of the small
automatics-but in her inexperienced hands it would be more
dangerous than helpful. People who didn't know weapons
figured that a gun could solve any problem, but sometimes it
just made people too cocky. Ali would be better off hiding her
ass if troubb came. He wondered about a knife, then knew what
hc could give her.

"I want you to take one of my canes with you," he said.
'~Tbe Alpine one with the spike on the end. It's got a good
solid han~ dle, too."

Ali looked at him. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm serious."

"Come on, Tony. What am I going to do with a cane. Whack
somebody with it?"

"Maybe. Just let mc get it."

"Yeah, but-"

"As a favor, Ali-okay? I let you go and gd into all kinds of
afischief, you take my cane. Fair trade. DealT'

Ali shrugged. "Deal."

She made herself a peanutbutter and onion sandwich while
he fetched the cane. He looked at thc sandwich just before she
closed the halves togdher.

"You're going to eat thatT'

"Sure."

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GREENM~

253

"It's your stomach. Here."

Ali lilced the cane. It had a T-shaped handle, a wickedloolring
four-inch spike on the end, and a number of small
silver crests nailed into the wood near the handle. She looted
more closely at them and saw that they were little engravings

of castles and cottage~ with the names of German-sounding
places written underr~eath them.

"I got this from a friend in Austria," Valenti said. "They use
these for climbing mountains or something-I don't know.'

"I like it," Ali said, thinking, it'll be great for whacking
weeds with, if nothing else.

Valenti walked her to the back door and waved her off. He
watchod her until she reached the forest, then thc phone ranB
and he went back inside. Ali paused looking back at the house.
She ~wnhg thc walking stick experimentally and sent a
satisfying cloud of dandelion seeds into the air. Whack.
Whack. Then she entered the forest and started off down the
path at a jaunty clip, swinging the stick with one hand while
taking bites out of the ~andwich that was in her other.

She had the forest to herself today and enjoyed thc feeling.
It was so nice a day today, compared to yesterday's overcast
skies, with the sunlight coming through the overhead boughs
in bright beams. Shc listened to squirrels scolding her and each
other, finches, sparrows and robins in the trees; red-winged
blackbirds as she got near the stream. A perfect day, she
thought. She wasn't really surprised to find Mally sitting on thc
stones by thc water, wsiting for her.

"'Lo, Ali," the wild girl said. "Looking for bonesr

"Maybe. I'm going to talk to Lewis first."

"Lewis knows books," Mally said, "not mystery stuff."

"I still want to talk to him."

Mally shrugged. "Okay. Let's go. I'll show you a shortcut-
tight through the forest-that'll drop us out almost on
top of Lewis's cabin."

"You don't mind my talking to him first?" Ali asked.

"Mindr' Mally shook her head. "I like Lewis, Ali. He's my
friend. Iust like you are-though I've known him longer."

"But . . ."

"Ftiends don't always have to be right," Mally said with a
gtin "C'mon, now. I'll race you to that birch tree."

"No &ir. You're quicker than me."

"I'll just hop then-on one leg."

Beforc Ali could answer, the wild gitl lifted a leg behind her,

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caught its ankle and started hopping madly for the tree. Laugh ing, Ali
set off in pursuit, but even with the handicap, Mally still got there
first.

Valenti was just hanting up when Frankie came downstairs. Her
haur was all tousled and she had a sleepy look in her eyes but she still
found a smile for him. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and a peur
of loose cotton the pants. To Valenti, she looked like a million dollars.

"Is there any coffee left7' she asked. "I could smell it in my sleep."

"Plenty," Valend assured her. "How're you feeling7'

She thought about that for a moment. "Good," she said finally.
"Surprisingly good, ~I things considered. Is Ali up yetr'

"Yeah. She just went for a walk in the woods back of the house."

"Will she be safer'

"Oh, sure. She's a smart kid-she'll keep her eyes open. If
something comes up, she'll co ne running bacx."

"I wish she hadn't gone."

"She'll be fine."

Frsnkie nodded. "Well I'm glad we've got a few mo~ts. I ~vanted to
ask you a favor Tony."

"What's thatT'

"I want you to give me that gun you took frorh the man wbo shot
Tom last night. I want you to teach me how to use it."

Valenti hadn't Icnown what to expect from her, but this hadn't
been it. "You want a gun?"

"Is that so surprising after all I've been through?"

"But you can't use it-you're not licensed to carry one. If you'd
shot that guy who attacked you last night, you'd be up shit creek right
now."

"Look at me," Frankie said. "I'm not a physical match for either
Earl or that man. But I am po' going to be a victim anymore. ~h'hat
other choice do I have?"

"Yeah, but the law-"

"Don't tell me about the law, Tony. I wasn't so out of it het night
that I didn't see what you were carrying. That was some kind of
machine gun, wasn't it? I suppose you've got a liceDse to carry itT'

"Well, now. . ."

"So what's the difference, Tony?"

Valend thought about how he'd considered giving Ali a gun

^ -              GRE~-I~

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earlier in the morning. The same rules applied here, but when he
thought of what Frankie'd already been through . . .

"Okay," he said finally. "But I'll tell you straight off that a gun's
not going to solve anything. It's just a tool. Don't think you're going to
be a different or tougher or better person just because you've got one
in your hand. If you pull it out, you got to be prepared to use it. If
you use it, you got to be prepared to hit somebody-you know what
I'm saying? And you can't let yourself get cocky because-especially
when we're dealing with your ex-he's going to be carrying a piece,
too. You got to be prepared for the fact that whoever you're shooting
at is going to be shoodog back."

"I've thought about it," Frankie said. "Believe me. I've gone over
and over it. This isn't something I'm locking forward to. I don't want
to be some gun-toting moll like you used to invesdgate. But I've got to
do something. I won't be a victim anymore. And I've got Ali to think
of. I can't expect you to stand guard over us twenty-four hours a day.
I don't want somebody doing that. I appreciate the help you've been
so far, Tony, but I have to be able to stand up for myself."

"Yeah," Valenti said. "That's what you moved back here for."

"As soon as this is over-one way or another-I'll get rid of that
gun so fast it'll make your head spin."

"I believe you." He hesitated for a long moment, fiddling with his
coffee mug before he looked at her again. "Listen, I got to tell you
something. I was never investigating organized crime. I want to be
straight with you. I respect you and I don't want to have lies and
bullshit Iying between us. I never told Ali that stuff she told gou.
That's just something she came up with because she-I don't know.
Wanted to protect you, maybe. I think she was afraid maybe you
wouldn't let us be friends if you knew the truth."

Frankie's fingers tightened around the handle of her own mug.
"What . . . what are you trying to say, Tony?"

"I used to be one of those guys-part of the families, you know?
But I never made no war on women or kids and we didn't deal in dope
or prostitution, neither. Not when the old Don was padrone. But I
was in the business all the same."

Frankie didn't say anything immediately. She just sat there, looking
at him, wondering why this revelation wasn't bothering her more than
it should. Was it because she'd already known Tony, and for all that
he seemed very capable when it came to guns and trouble, he just
didn't strike her as a gangster?

"What happened?" she asked finally.

a~w ~narles ae Lmt

Valenti give her a quick run-down of the events that had led to thc
fratellanza putting out a contract on him. He talked about Mario and
the fumbled hit in Malta, about how he'd finally made it back here to
Lanark and just wanted to disappear but her exhusband had identified
him and called down the cousins on him.

"See," he finished, ``things were already different for me. Living
here . . . I didn't feel like I was in exile. It was like I never had anything
to-do with the families in the first place. When I think of who I was,
it~s like I was a different guy. I was really starting to put it all behind
me, but then all this shit came down on us. Now I don't know. It's all
coming back to me and I don't like it, but I can't run away this time.
Just like you." He glanced at her. "It's a funny thing, you know. I was
all set to run again, but it was Ali who talked me out of it. She told me
I had to make a stand." He shook his head. ``Christ, she's really some
kid."

The coffee pot was empty. Not trusting herself to speak yet,
Frankie got up and put some more water on. She stood by the stove,
warming her hands by the burner, though it wasn't cold in the kitchen.
The chill she had was inside her.

What do I feel? she asked herself. This man's just like Earl- only
he's the big time. Then she shook her head. No, Tony wasn't line Earl.
Not by a long shot. From what he'd told her, he'd basically grown up
in a family business. He'd just never known any better. If all your role
models, your father and uncles and grandfathers, if they were all
gangsters, how could a growing boy think that was wrong? It was a
way of life.

She turned to look at him. God, a person could rationalize
anything. What she had to figure out was, was she being
understanding because she needed him right now, needed the skills and
abilities he'd acquired from what he'd been, or was it because she
really did understand him?

"I guess this changes things," Valenti said finally.

"It changes them," she agreed, "but I'm not sure how."

He regarded her with a puzzled frown and she found herself
smuhug.

"I liked you right off," Frankie said. "More importantly, Ali liked
you right off, and I've learned from experience that she's a damn good
judge of character. There's been a lot of times when I'd come home
with some guy and she'd never say a thing, but I'd know she didn't
think much of him. Unfortunately, she was usually right. I've never
had much luck with the men in my life-not as lovers, at any rate. So
now I meet someone that both Ali and I lilte and . . ."

"Hey, I'm not, you know-"

"Coming on to me," Franlcie said. "I know that. But I do like you,
Tony. Only right now my feelings are all confused. I'm still coming
down from last night, I've got Earl to worry about.... l -need you right
now, for what you know, for what you are. It's your past that makes
me feel safe, that makes me feel that things are going to work out, that
Earl won't be able to just walk all over me again, that that guy, if he
comes back, won't be able to . . . hurt me again."

She combed her hair with her fingers, nervously pulling at a knot.
"I don't want to be dependent on anybody," she said. "I told you that.
But there's something good-something healthy, I think-about
having a friend,that you can depend on."

"I can be a friend," Valenti said. "I know the kind of guy I was.
Things won't go no further and when this shit's over we can just go
our separate ways."

"I'm not saying that, Tony."

"Then what are you saying?"

"God, I don't Imow. It's in my head, but I can't put it into words."

The kettle began to boil and she turned thankfully to the
interruption it offered. But once the water was poured and the coffee
dripping through the filter, she came and sat across from him agam.

"I got a call from Mario," Valenti said. "Just before you woke."

Franlcie looked grateful for the change in topic. "Did he say how
your friend was?"

"He's doing okay. He's in intensive care, but the doctors are pretty
sure he'll pull through. I'd like to know what kind of a song and dance
Mario pulled to stop them from calling in the nolice-I mean it was a
~unshot wound-but he says every

~Ktt~MArN 1 Ll:

thing's cool. He was calling me from Ottawa."

"He's not coming back?"

"I don't think so. He said he was going to take care of some
business in New York."

Franlcie didn't ask him what that was supposed to mean-she
didn't want to know. The coffee had finished dripping through, so she
got up again to refill both their mugs.

"What do you think of me?" she asked when she sat down once
more. "What do you see when you look at me?"

She didn't seem to be able to stop the conversation from reh~rning
to them. 8ut the terror she'd felt last night was never far

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258 Charles de ldnt

from her thoughts. Coupled with it was the old fear that all men~
just regarded her as an object, as something they could use however
they wanted. The attempted rape was just an exaggeration of
what usually went down in her other relationships. The meo
might take her out to dinner or to a movie or something, but it all
boiled down to getting into her pants and gening their rocks off.
lbo many times she just didn~t hear from them again.

So why did she attract that kind of a man? What was there
about her that brought them to her? Or was there something more
deeply wrong with her, some Freudian explanation that centered
around the way her father had treated her mother-and even
Frankie herself-so that she'd go out looking for men like him?
It wasn't the first time she'd worried about this and it never
ceased to confuse her.

"I got to tell you," Valenti said. "I've never been that good
with women. I was never rough or anything, but I just never
wanted anything longterm, you know what I'm saying? But last
night I got to thinking about Ali.... I'd give up everything to
have a kid like her. And I was thinking of you, too..." He
paused to clear his throat. "I know I said I wasn't going to come
on to you or anything, but I got to tell you, I was thinking about
you and wishing I'd been a different kind of person so that I'd
have a chance to be with someone like you-permanently, you
l~now?"

"But why? There's nothing special about me, Tony. I'm
just-"

"Bullshit, there's nothing special about you." It was like talking
to Ali, he thought. "It's not just the way you look-which is
sensational, I've got to tell you that, too-it's the way you carry
yourself. It's what you got inside. And I'll tell you something
else: You can tell a lot about a person by their kids. You raised
Ali by yourself and you did one helluva job, Frankie. A person
who ceo do something like that, sht's special to me, let me tel1
you."

Frankie reached across the table and laid her hand over his.
"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah." He looked down at her hand on his, then back up to
meet her gaze.

"I needed to hear that, Tony. I go through life needing a lot, it
seems."

"I think we're all like that-needing reassurance. There's
aothing wrong with it. The only thing wrong is when there's no
one tbere to give it to you."

~!

GREENM~I~
n - rl-A .Che .caueezed his hand. then let zo and

259

Fraokie ~ ~-~
reached for her coffee mug. Her hand was trembling slightly and
she hoped Tony didn't see it.

"You and me," he said suddenly. "We're like hearts and
flowers for two mornings in a row now. It's gefflng to be a habit."

"I'm glad we had a chance to talk."

"Yeah. Me too."

Valenti ached to see her Sining there across from him. There
was a loolc in her eyes that promised him something, but there
was no way he was going for it. -Not now. Not today. Not so close
on tbe heels of what she'd gone through and with everything that
was coming up. But when it was over, when she didn't need him
for what be'd been, then maybe he'd see if she'd take him for
what he was now. He pushed aside their mugs and fetched Bannon'
s automatic and a cleaning kit.

"Okay," he said. "Before we start shooting up a tree trunk
you're going to learn how this lime beauty works. Now this little
thing-"

He broke off as she touched his hand again. '1hanks," she
said.

Valenti knew what she meant. Tbe promise was still in her
eyes and it seemed warmer now. A hot flash went through bim,
just at the closeness of her. He cleared his throat again as she
took away her hand. Brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, she
leaned forward. He tool~ a breath and started again.

"Okay. Now tbis is the safety. When it's on, the gun doesn't
work. See, you cao pull the trigger, but nothing happens." He
snapped the magazine free of the grip and showed it to her. 'Vlhis
is your magazine. It holds twelve rounds. Now they called these
self-loading pistols when they went on the market baclc around
the turn of the century. You don't get the recoil on these, not like
you do on a gun that uses a cylinder. That's because the same
gizmo that ejects the spent round and brings the new one up
absorbs a lot of the recoil. I'm going to let you fire both today,
but I thinlc this is thc one you'll waot to hang on to. It's lighter,
easier to manage.... ~~

,,

Ali paused when they came out of the woods above Lewis's
cabin. She couldn't see the old man from where they were, but a
trail of smolce rose up from his chimney, so she tbought somebody
must be home. Wherc would he go anyway?
"C'mon," Mally said.
Ali didn't move. "I was just thinking," she said. "Maybe I

~ - ~  ~

d~ould talk to someone else-like the lady I wac dancing with
last night."

"Lily7'

"Yes. Her."

"Whst fort'

"Well, I know what you think and I know what Lewis has told
me, but I don't know what the villagers themselves think.They'
re not all like Lewis, are theyT'

Mally shook her head. "Lewis is different-just like Tommy
is, but in another sort of a way."

"I thought so. I think I'd like to talk to ber-just to get another
perspective."

"You could try climbing a tree," Mally said with a smile.

Ali laughed. "But that won't tell mc anything-not about
this, anyway. Do you know where Lily livesT'

"Sure."

The wild girl angled off toward the village. After a last look at
Lewis's cabin, Ali followed. Looking ahead, the brush grew so
dense it seemed impossible to pick through, but Ali found that if
she stayed right on Mally's heels, she had no trouble. The wild
dsi chose a winding way, bypassing the heavier thickets, until
they were suddenly in a small pasture. Cows lifted their h.~d to
regard the two intruders ignoring them once they'd passeo

"That's where Lily lives," Mally said as they reached the far
side of the village. She pointed to a small picturesque cottage
overhung with vines. Rosebushes clambered up the sides of its
stone walls.

"Aren't you coming in?" Ali asked.

"No. I'll wait for you here."

Ali paused. "Don't you like LilyT'

"Oh, I like her all right, I just don't l~now her. You go on
ahead."

Leaving her walking stick with the wild girl, Ali went on by
herself. As she neared the door of the cottage, she began to feel a
littJe shy, but before she could change her mind, the door opened
and Lily was standing there, looking at her. A smile creased the
old woman's face.

"What a pleasant surprise," she said. "Do come in."

"I don't want to be any bother."

"Nonsense. We see few enough new faces in the village-I'm
happy to see you." She ushered Ali inside. The cottage was al I
one room, divided into a neatly kept sitting room, a kitchen and a
slee-pD~g area. The quilt on the bed was gorgeous, Ali thought,

. ,

1
.

. .

knowing that her mother would just love it. When she stepped
closer to investigate it, she rcalized that the whole thing was
hand-sewn.

"This is beautiful," she said.

"Well, thank you-Ali, wasn't it? That was a whole winter's
project back when Jevon was still alive. Ievon was my husband."

Ali nodded. She glanced at a sepia-toned photograph on the
mantle. "Was that him?"

"Yes, it was. Handsome devil, wasn't he?"

"Who took the picture?" Ali asked. She'd been under thc in~
pression that they didn't have much in the way of modern conveniences
in New Wolding. Wherc would they even get the film
developed?

"Lewis's son Edmond took it. Before he left the village for
good he dsed to travel quite a bit between the outer world and the
village. He left with the Gypsies one year and never did come
back."

"Gypsies? You mean like real Gypsies?" She remember Lewis
mentioning something about them.

Lily nodded. "They come ' once or twice a year-just one
family, the Grys. lango-he's a grandfather himself now-has
been bringing his family for as long as I can remember. We get
what we can't grow or make ourselves from them. Sugar, some
teas and spices, that sort of thing. Lewis wasn't too happy the
year Edmond left."

"Why did he leave?"

"Oh, you're young. You know how restless young people can
ad. The village wouldn't even have been settled in the first place
if some of the young foLk from the original Wolding hadn't been
restless themselves. My own son Peter left-the year after Edmond
did."

"Do you miss himT'

Lily looked at the photo of her husband and sighed. "Oh, yes.
I miss him. More so now that levon's gone. I keep hoping thathe'
ll come back one day, but I don't think he will."

"Why notT'

"Lewis says that if you stray a too long from the village, you
lose the way back."

"There's less and less of you each year, isn't thereT' Ali
asked.

"I'm afraid so. But my levon saw it coming. We changed, you
know. We've become, not so much lazy, as forgetful. All we do
is dance at the old stone ww. Sometimes the mystery comes,

262

sotnetirnes he doesn't. We used to sacrifice a bull there at that old
stone-every year we did that." She didn't notice Ali's face go
pale. ù'1 thinlc that's important-rituals and the like. Not this
come-when-you-will attitude that we've slowly fallen into. I
think if it weren't for the mystery-if he didn't still come to us at
tbe stow-we'd all be gone now."

"You don't think he should be freed?"

`'Freed? Oh, who's filling your head with such nonsense?
There's nothing binding him here. Do you think something like
bim could be held captive by the likes of us?"

"But I thought-I thought it was the villagers who kept him
here. Tommy's piping and all that."

"You've been talking to Lewis," Lily said, "and Lewis thinks
too much. He has to have everything neatly explained, but it
doesn't work that way. We're talking aboot a mystery. I love
Lewis like a brother, Ali, but sometimes I just want to shale
some sense out of that head of his."

"Mally says there's something keeping him here, too."

"Oh, yes. The wild girl. Where did you go with her last night,
Ali? You made us all very worried."

Ali shrugged. "Just. . . away."

Uly's eyes went dreamy. "I always dreamed of that. Of thc
stag taking rne away on his back. . ." She sat silent for a long
moment, lost in her thoughts, then blinked and looked at Ali.
"Not that I'm unhappy here, you understand. But there's a little
bit of Lewis in us all, I suppose. I'd like to know where the
mystery goes in that stag shape of his. It must be to some very
special place."

Ali couldn't begin to explain that landscape of wild forestland
and the circle of stone formations. "We went a long way," she
said at last.

"I'm sure you did. But tell me. Do you long to be back there,
wherever it was that he took you, or can you still be content here
in this world of ours?"

"1..." She'd spent a lot of time being scared, Ali realized,
and then a lot more talking with Mally. In the end, she hadn't
~eally experienced very much of that other place. She remembered
the moon-how big it had been and how low-and tbe
stars so close you could almost reach out and touch them. The
peace in among those stones. The very air..."I'd like to go
back," she said.

Tbere was a touch of yearning in ber voice tbat made Lily nod
tier-bead. "I thought it would be like that," sbe said. "It's like the

Charles de LInt

GREENMANnE

263

stories of Faerie, isn't it? Once you've been in tbeir Middle
Kingdom, you can never again be content in the fields of men."

"I suppose."

Lily nodded. "But I still think I'd have liked to have gone-
just once."

It didn't seem fair, Ali thought. She'd gotten to go and she
was just a kid with her whole life ahead of her, while this old
woman...AII those years and never once getting a glimpse of
that place. Unless she saw it in Tommy's music, or felt it in tbe
presence of the stag.

What would Lily do if tbe stag didn't come anymore? Would
Tommy still play his pipes? Or would all the villagers move
away? Maybe it'd be better if the villagers did go. She didn't
know if the people of New Wolding were happy or not, but they
had never really had a chance to see what else there was to see in
the world. Tbat didn't seem right either.

"I've got to go," she said suddenly.

"Ob, no," Lily said. "I haven't even had a chance to offer you
some tea. And I was going to make scones, too."

"Another time," Ali said. "I've really got to run."

"You promise you'll visit again?"

Ali nodded. "Bye, Lily. And thanks."

"For what?" the old woman asked, but Ali was already at tbe
door. Sbe waved to Lily and went outside, softly closing the door
behind ber. Mally was right wbere sbe'd promised to wait, playing
with the walking stick.

"Are we going to see Lewis now?" she asked.

Ali sbook ber bead, "We're going to look for bones," sbe said.
"Wbere should we build the fire?"

"There's only one place will do," Mally said, handing Ali the
cane. "On the very top of Wolding Hill."

"Olcay. Let's get to it."

A minute or two after she'd fired the .38, Frankie's wrist sHll
hurt. Her ears rang from the loud report. Tony had warned her
about the kick that the gun had, showed her how to hold it properly,
left hand supporting the right, but it had still come as a
shock.

"I think I'll shck to the other one," she said.

Valenti nodded and handed the automatic back to her. "Yeah. I
thought it would suit you better, but I wanted you to try the .38 at
least once-just to know what it felt lilce. Now you won't bc
wondering about it all the dme."

264 Ch~es de Lht

Fhnkie looked at the cardboard target theyrd set up about
fifteen paces from where they stood. "I didn't even come close."

"You did better with the automatic. You did good, Frankie.
You want to go in for a sandwich?"

"Sure. Tony, why don~t you go after those men? Why don't
you go into the city and stop them before they come out here?"

"Well," Valenti said. ``First off, in the city, they've got the
advantage. We can~t go around packing a lot of artillery and then
just blast away with it when and if we catch up to them. But they
can just hang out wherever they are, pick us off and disappear.
What would you say to the police if they stopped us to ask wbat
I'm doing with my UZI and why you're carrying a piece?"

"You're right."

"And the second thing is, if they're willing to leave us alone,
I'm happy to return the favor. I'm not gunning for them, Frankie.
I want to leave that kind of shit behind me. If they force my
hand, I'm going to meet them with all the firepower I can put
together, but I'd rather be left alone."

"I'm glad to hear that," Frankie said. "Really."

Valenti nodded. "I'm not just saying it because it's something
I think you want to hear. Believe that."

"I do."

"That's good. That's really good."

They left the weapons on the table and set about makhag some
lunch. As she started to slice bread Frankie glanced at the cloclc
over the stove.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "Look at the time. It's after twelve."

"What's the matter?" Valenti asked.

"It's Ali-she's not back yet. God, I feel terrible. I forgot all
about her. If something's happened to-"

"It's okay," Valenti said. "Trust me. She's fine."

"But what's she doing out thereT'

Frankie had turned to him and fac a long moment she held his
gaze. Valenti sighed. Maybe it was time to get the last of the lia
out of the way. Well, not exactly lies, he corrected himself. Iust
the things that neither he nor Ali had bothered to expand upon.

'~he thing of it is," he said, "she's got a friend in the woods
-a girl named Mally. And there's this village back there that we
visited yesterday. Let's finish fixing up these sandwiches and I'll
tell you all about it over lunch." And I just to Christ hope you be"
lieve what I'm about to tell you, he thought, because I'm not so
sure l do myself.

GREEN~

265

Frankie was puzzled, but she went back to slicing bread.
"Okay," she said. "So long as you're sure she's okay."
"She's fine."
"I just wish you wouldn't sound so mysterious about it."
'Vlhere's the word," Valenti said. "You got it in a nutshell.
Mystery's what this is aD about."

.1
. l

:~!

~1
.t
,,r,

CHAPTER TWO  ~

.. ~

Broadway loe didn't recognize the intruder immediately. The ù~i
shock of his office door sla[nming open and the man's sudden u:
appearance held him motionless for a long moment. He saw a <;
darkly tanned face with a couple of days' worth of beard smudginB
its outline; short dark hair above the face, a long raincoat
below. Behind the man, loe's bodyguards had already been taken ~s),e
out. Freddie was Iying stretched out on the carpet, Dan leaning 'f
up against a waO doubled over. As the man brought an Ingram ~
submachine gun up from his side and pointed its muzzle at the -`

consigliere recognition finally dawned on Broadway Joe.  I

"Jesus Christ!" he cried. "What the fuclc d'you thinlc you're ~

1L, .
.: ~

puOing, MarioT'

"Tell your boy to forget it."

Broadway Joe looked beyond Mario and saw that Dan was
straightening up, one hand going under his sports jacket for his
gun. The Ingram never wavered from Joe's face. SwaOowing
thickly, the consigliere called out to his bodyguard: "Don't do it!"
He laid his own hands flat, palms down, on the top of his desk.

"I want to hear the sound of a gun hitting the carpet," Mario
said, "and then I want your boy to drag his pal in here and then
go sit in a corner, nice and quiet-got itT'

"Sure, Mario. Sure. No problem. Do you want to put that
thing awayT'

Mario shoolc his head. He moved further into the room to
where he could cover both the door and the desk. Dan Barboza,
plainly unhappy, lifted .44 Magnum from its shoulder holster,using
just his thumb and forefinger, and dropped it on the floor.
Grabbing Freddie under the armpits, he dragged him into Broadway
Joe's office, dumping him in front of the couch on the far
dde of the room. He sat down then, glaring at Mario.

"Okay," Mario said. "Here's how we're playing this. I want
you to get a piece of paper and a pen, Joe, talce it out nice and

266

GRER4MAN1IE

267

easy, and then you're gonna write down a little confession for
me, capito?"

"You think I'm crazy?" Broadway Joe demanded. "I'm not
writing out nothing."

"Then you're dead."

Joe glanced at his bodyguards-you are fucking finished, his
eyes told Dan-then back at Mario. "Come on, Mario. Let's be
reasonable. What's this all about?"

"I tried reason, Joe. But you broke your word. I don't give
anybody a second chance, you know what I'm saying?"

"I couldn't call back the hit. Christ, you think I didn't want
to? But the padrone wants Valenti gone, so what can I dot'

"Yop should've told me that yesterday, Joe."

"Hey, yesterday I was sure I could talk Ricca into okaying it.
By the time I find it's a no-go, it's too late to get in touch with
you."

Mario shook his head. "That's not good enough, Joe." He
made a small motion with the Ingram. "Pen and paper-let's get
a move on."

"What am I supposed to write? Nothing you get from me's
going to stand up in court, Mario. You Icoow that. Anything I
give you's under duress."

"It's not for a court," Mario said. "It's for the other families
and whatever I decide to leave of the Magaddinos, capito?"

"Don't do this to me, Mario."

"Pen and paper. Get it." He watched the consiglicre fumble
for a paper and pen. "You should have known better," he said. "I
tnok a fall for the family and I took exile for them. I could handle
that. I saw how things were going. I could see the young blood
coming up and that things were changing. But you should have
remembered that I don't take shit from nobody, Joe. We had a
deal."

"What was I supposed to do, Mario? The Don says-"

"Ricca's no Don-he's just a punk. Now you start writing.
You put down on paper who called the hit on the old Don. You
write down that Tony was set up to take the fall for it. You call
off the contract on him. Simple."

'Nobody called a hit on the old Don, Mario. Tony just got-"

"Puck you! Tony was loyal and you know it. Now you either
write it or I'm gonna start taking pieces off of you with this." He
moved in close with a sudden quick move and shoved the muzzle
of the Ingram up hard against the consigliere's side loe let out a
gasp On the couch, Dan was starting to stand, but Mario had

aw~nes ue Lun

already moved back to his earlier position. The muzzle of the Ingram
settled on Dan.

"Don't try to be a hero,~' Mano told him. "You're way out of your
league right now." He glanced back at Joe. "Write!"

"It's not going to change anything," Joe said. 'Ricca's still the Don.
Tbe other families got to live with that. You think they give a fuck
about you, Mario? You think they're all going to back you up? Wise
up, fercrissakes."

"Ricca called the hit on his old man-right? Who did it? Louie?"

"It doesn't matter. The old Don's gone and-"

"Who did it?"

"Look, Mario. It was business, okay? The old Don was converting
everything into legitimate businesses. He was going soft. We had to do
something "

"Whose idea was itT;

"Ricca's," Joe said quickly.

Sure, Mario thought. `.And what about Tony taking the fall for it?
Was that Ricca's idea too?"

Broadway Joe nodded. "The old man was trying to go legit, but we
knew we could get to him with Eddie putting the squeeze on his
girlfriend. And who else would the Don call in but Tony? Things just
worked out, what with Tony having a hard-on for Eddie in the first
place and everybody knowing that the Don had told him to lay off."

"So you take a guy who's been loyal his whole life-who's given
you his whole life, fercrissakes-and you just dump him."

"It was business, Mario."

"Fuck you. We're talking loyalties here. You think you're gonna
keep the old guard on if that's all they got to look forward

"I know, Mario. That's why we've got to forget about this shit
now or the whole business falls to pieces."

Mario glanced at thc bodyguards, Freddie was sitting up now but
he still looked stunned. Dan had settled back in the couch. He wasn't
so hot to trot now-not with what he was hearing.

"There's still a way out of it," Mario said.

"What's that?"

"It's lilce a disease,?' Mario explained. "You just cut out the dck
part, you know what I'm saying?"

"We're talking about the head of a family here. No one's going to
stand for-"

"Write," Mario told him. His voice went cold. Broadway Joe

paled and set pen to paper. "Just put it all down there," Mario added,
"just like you told me, and you bt me worry about what comes after."

A tense silence fell over the room as the consiglicrc did as he was
told.

"How long you been in the business?" Mario asked Oan.

The bodyguard started, then shrugged. "My old man stood for
me-nine, maybe ten years ago."

"What's your name?" Mario nodded when Dan told him. "Jimmy
Barboza-he's your old man? I used to work with him ~hrist, that
goes back awhile now. He was a good man. The Guicciones took him
out over that warehouse deal, right?" Mario shook his head. "That was
a fucking waste if I ever saw one."

Broadway Joe set aside the pen and pushed the sheet of paper
over to Mario's side of the desk. Mario read it quickly, never taking
his gaze from the consigliere for too long. "That's nice," he said.
"What do you say, Dan? You gonna witness this for me?"

Dan hesitated, glancing at Broadway Joe.

"What we got here's not going to the law," Mario said. "It's just for
the families, capito? You don't wanna sign, that's okay."

Dan looked at the consigliere again. "This shit's all true?" he
aslGod. "You guys really set Tony up to take this fall?"

Broadway Joe wouldn't answer. Mario stepped close again,
nudging him with the Ingram. "Man asked you a question."

"Yeah," Joe said. "It's true. But you think about it, Dan. You dgn
that, you're going against the family. The old Don, he was going
soft-wanted to be legit before he died, fercrissakes. Where does that
leave the rest of us? Without jobs-that's where. You think you can
make the kind of bread you're pulling jD now driving a fucking truck
or working in a factory?"

"My old man drilled it into my head," Dan replied. "You do your
part for the family, and the family'll take care of you." He looked at
Mario. "Sure, I'll sign it."

Mario smiled. "Okay, Joe. One last thing for you to do. Get on the
blower and have Ricca meet you here. Fuck this up, and you're dead."

"And if I don't fuck it up-what happens to me then? Who says
I'm not dead anywayT'

"At this point, that's just the chance you got to take."

"Give me your word that I'll get out of this alive."

M=io shook his head. "I can't do that, foe. We can't have da~ls
between us-not after you screwed me once aheady."

GREEN - N1=

269

"Fuck you, then."

Mario shrugged. "Then you're dead." He started to bring the :
Ingram up so that its muzzle was level with the consiglicrc's
head, 6ut before he could pull the trigger, Joe picked up the
phone.

"The thing we've still got to decide," Mario said as they   ^,

waited for the connection to be made, "is who do we hand the
f~nily over to once Ricca's gone?"
. .,

Ricca came in with one bodyguard. Before either of them
lmew what was happening, Mario closed the door behind them
and waved them to the couch with the Ingram. Dan, his Magnum
back in his hand, went to relieve Ricca's bodyguard of his piece.
The bodyguard was a tall blonde Swede named Lars Andersson.
The kind of guy Ricca was, he didn't trust his own people, just
like they wouldn't trust him if they knew him better.

"What the fuck is going-"

Ricca shut up when Mario waved the Ingram at him.

"This guy's not going to understand," Dan said as he relieved
the Swede of his gun. "He's not family, you know?"

Mario nodded. "I know the kind-bought with money, not
with blood. Okay, Dan. You and Freddie can blow."

"We'll wait for you outside'' Dan said. "You're gonna need
somebody to get you in to talk to the right people."

Mario nodded again. He waited until the door closed behind
the two men, then studied his prisoners. Ricca, Joe and the
Swede sat in a row on the couch. Joe was slumped in a corner,
already defeated. Ricca looked scared and that made Mario shake
his head. This punlc just couldn't be the same blood as the old
Don. The only one who didn't seem either defeated or afraid was
the Swede. Just too dumb, Mario thought, meeting the big man's
gaze. There wasn't a great deal of intelligence showing behind
the Swede's glare.

"Look," Ricca said, licking hi' lips. "We can make a deal.
I've got-"

Mario shool; his head. "No deals," he said and opened fire
with the Ingram.

It took the Swede the longest to die. He almost made it across
the room before he sprawled at Mario's feet. Mario looked at the
bodies, feeling nothing. No satisfaction. Nothing but a certain
regret that things had had to turn out this way.

He put the Ingram back under his raincoat where it hung out
of sight from a strap on his shoulder and picl~ed up the paper he'd

~ ..~

270                      a~arles de Llat  J          ~GREENM~IE 271

had the consigliere write out for him. He needed a photocopier
now. When the door opened behind him, he turned quickly, the
Ingram coming up again, but it was only Dan who held his empty
hands up before him.

"We better split," he said.

Mario nodded. "You got any ideas who the best person is to
take this to?" he asked, holding up the confession.

"Bernie LaFata."

Mario thought about that. He knew Bennie-he'd been a
capo back before Mano had been deported. He was a good man
and he knew about loyalties, only. . ."You thinlc he'll dot' Mario
aslred.

"He's gonna listen."

"That's all we can ask for."

There was a lot to do, Mario thought u he followed Dan out

of the office. By the time they reached the elevator, they could
hear people's voices raised as they wondered what had happened.
It wouldn't be too long before the place was crawling with the
NYPD's finest.

Mario looked back down the hall just before he got into the
devator. He'd have to send Tony a clipping-once this hit the
papers. He just hoped Tony could handle the problem of Broadway
loe's son on his own because Mario knew he wasn't going to
be abk to get back up to Canada before tomorrow at the earliest.

~1Vc gotta go," Dan said. He was holding the elevator door
open.

Mario nodded and stepped insidk, still watching the hall until
the elevator's doors slid shut. Time to stop thinking about Tony,
he told himself. If he didn't keep his mind on the job at hand for
the next few hours, the whole thing could still blow up in his
face. By the time the elevator reached the ground floor and the
three men were on the street, he had his priorities straight. His
worries for Tony went to the back of his mind and he concentrated
on what came next right here and now.

"So now we set up a meet with LaFata," he said.

"I know just the place," Dan said.

Mario glanced at Freddie. "Are you in?" When Freddie nodded,
he clapped Dan on the shoulder. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Dan stepped out from the curb to flag down a cab. As they
were pulling away, the sound of sirens filled the street behind
them.

CHAPTER THREE

.

Throughout the afternoon Frankie kept thinking: I dreamed about
that stag. I dreamed that it was in Ali's room that night. But
every time the image of it rose up in her mind, she pushed it
aside. That hadn't been real. And what Tony had told her this
afternoon-that couldn't be real, either.

She would have thought that he was putting her on, except he
had told the whole story through so matter-of-factly, so very seriously.
He had his own doubts, but he couldn't deny that there
was something going on, that all this talk of mysteries and the
like had some basis. And he'd seen the stag. He'd seen the wild
girl.

"I don't like it any better than you," he had finished up with,
"but my not liking it sure isn't going to change anything."

"But Ali-she could bein danger."

"She's in the middle of it-I'll give you that-but I don't
think she's in danger. Do you think I would have let her go if I
thought she was?"

Frankie had wanted to go looking for Ali right then-into the
forest, to that village or to the stone-but Valenti had talked her
out of it.

"She's a big kid," he said. "We got to give her a chance to
work things out for herself."

"Tony, she's only fourteen."

"And zoing on thirty-five." _    . .

s ~.
:; ~
O O ,

Frankie had to smile, remembering that. Tony was right. But ~ts
then the image of the stag in her daughter's room came baclc. The
smile faded, then was gone.

"What're you thinking about?" Valenti asked.

Frankie turned to look at him. They were sitting on lawn
chairs behind his house. With iced drinks on the arm rests, the
two of them, looked as though they were simply soaking up the
sun, domestic picture that was only flawed upon closer scrutiny.
Pranl~ie had a holster on her belt. The automatic was nestled in it.

272

~;.
.~

.l

GREENMANILE    273

Balancing its weight on the other hip was a leather pouch with
extra ammunition clips. Valenti had a .38 in a shoulder harness,
the UZI hanging from the arm of his chair by its strap. He, too,
was carrying extra clips for the UZI and rounds for his pistol.

After talking over lunch, they'd returned to Frankie's place so
that she could get some clothes suitable for the bush. Valenti had
decided to take to the woods near the house tonight, rather than
wait inside where they could get bottled up, depending on how
many men Louie brought with him. Outside, the advantage came
back to Valenti and Frankie once more. When they'd returned
from Frankie's they had made a number of circuits through the
brush closest to the house to get a feel for the area. They kne

the terrain now. Louie had only seen the place at night-and that
was briefly. His men would only have what Louie told them to go
on.

"I'm sorry," Frankie said. "What did you say?"

"You Iceep smiling, then frowning, then smiling again-I was
wondering what you were thinking about."

Frankie sighed. "Oh everything." She touched the handgrip
of the automadc. "I fee; like nothing's very real right now . . . or
maybe it's too real. I don't know. Here we are with all these
guns, waidog for either Earl or some extras from the The Go~ath~
r to show up. Meanwhile, my daughter is running around the
woods with a stag and some girl who has horns growing from her
head. Does any of it make sense to you, Tony?"

"Your ex and Louie-yeah, that I can understand. And I thirllc
I know what you mean about the rest. It's unreal and too real, all
at the same dme. But I'll tell you something: When that music
comes drifUng from the woods, or when I hear it close up like I
did last night, I feel like I'm really close to something then, you
know what I'm saying? It's like the answer to everything, not just
what's going down now, but that everything is just out of sight
and if I hang in for a couple of seconds longer, it's all going to be
laid out in front of me."

"I'm really worried about Ali," Frankie said.

"Yeah. I know."

"I mean, I understand what you're saying, but I find it pretty
hard to believe."

"Look." Valend glanced at his watch. "It's going on four.
Why don't we give her until four-thirty or five and if sh's not
back by then, we'll go looking for her, okay?"

Frankie wanted to go right away, but sh nodded in agre~
meet. She was always willing to give Ali a pretty froe rein,

a~inly because Ali could handle it. Frankie could put her foot
down when it was needed, but mostly it wasn't. Whatever her
daughter was mixed up in now, she supposed she owed it to Ali
to let her handle things her own way. Doing otherwise was a
breach of the trust built up between them. But Cod, it was hard.
If she could just bww, instead of having-

"Heads up," Valenti said quietly.

Frankie turned to look at him, then caught motion out of the
corner of her eye and saw what had prompted his comment. A
bedraggled tatterdemilion of a figure had stepped from the
forest and was approaching them. It was the wild girl, Frankie
realized as the figure came closer. Mally. She took in the girl's
pinched features, the thick tangle of hair with its twigs and
leaves, thc raggedy clothing, patched and burred, and there,
rising up from her forehead just by her hairline, was a pair of
small horns.

Frankie swallowed thickly. If this much was real, then what
was to stop all the rest of it from being real? The stag . . .

The wild girl came to a few paces from where they were
sitting, then sank languidly to the grass. She's like a cat, Frankie
thought, taking in the unblinking eyes and the smooth
movement that never wasted a motion. For a moment or two
they regarded each other, then Mally laid an antler on the grass
between them. Therc were feathers and beads tied to it by
leather thongs, swirling patterns scratched into its beam.

"'Lo," Mally said and smiled her Cheshire smile.

"Where's Ali?" Valend asked, voicing the gucedon that had
boen on the tip of Frankie's tongue.

"In the forest," Mally replied, nodding behind her. The
modon hardly made her hair move at all, it was so tangled
today. "But she sent me here with a message so you wouldn't
worry. The message is: 'Not to worry-I'll be back later
tonight."'

"What is she doing out there.r' Frankie demanded.

"She's planning to call Old Hornie-the mystery-to her
tonight, but I also think she's learnin' how to be a secret like
me."

"You're not making a lot of sense,- Frankie said.

"She's like that," Valenti muttered.

"Please, Tony." Frankie looked back at the wild girl. "I'm
Ali's mother, Mally, and I'm very worried. Why does she have
to call this mystery to her? What's going on out there7'

"And why didn't she come and deliver the message
herself?" Valenti added.

"Well, I'm faster in the forest than she is," Mally said, answering
Valenti first, "and as to what she's doing and why, that's ~~`

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something she's have to explain to you, if you can't riddle it for
yourselves. I won't do it because some things can't bc
explained, some shouldn't bc, and some lose their heart when
they are."

"Is she in danger?" Frankie asked. "Will you at least teU mc
that?"

Mally met her gaze for a long moment, then she reached over
and traced the curve of one of tbe antler's tines with a
fingernail. She started at its base and circled around until the
tine ended in a point and her finger was just touching air. Then
she did it a second dme. The third time she brought her hand
toward thc antler, shc picked it up and shook it lightly. The
beads made a little rmling sound against the bone as she
handed thc antler to Fr~ie.

"This is for you," she said.

Franlcie toolc it gingerly. "This . . . ?"

" . . . is special," Mally said. '1he mystery shed them a year
or two ago and I've kept them ever since. We're using one to
caU him, but ~Ui wanted you to have this one."

"But what does it-what is it for?"

Mally shrugged. "She said you'd lil~e it. I did the carving
and hangings and all myself."

Frankie glanced at Valenti, then back at the wild girl. ~Ihar~
you," sho said. It was obvious that Mally was proud of what
she'd done with the antler and it did have a certain primidve
charm. In fact, Frankie thought as she studied it more closely, it
radiated a certain feeling of goodwill. Her hand dghtened
around it.

"Please, Mally," she said finally. "Will my daughter be aU
right? This isn't a joking matter for me-I'm worried sick. I have
tA know that she won't get hurt playing. . . doing whatever it i';
she's doing with you."

"Will she be aU right?" Mally repeated. "I don't Icnow.
She's calling the mystery to her. If it comes, she'll be . . .
changed. But she's already changed some as it is. She's been to
the heart of the mystery once already and if it speaks to her
tonight . . ." Her thin shoulders lifted and fell. "Everything is
dangerous. She won't be in any physical harm-not that I know
of-but she'll have to be strong in her own heart so that she's
not swept away by the wonder of what she'll meet tonight."

Valenti remembered the dogs that could look lilce men, or
like both. "What about the pack?" he asked.

Mally turned to look at Valenti, but her gaze seemed to go
right through him, as though she were seeing into gome far di~

276 Charles de Lb~t

tance. "I don't know," she said softly. "All I know is that the fue
bun~s strong in both you and her-but it burns purer in her. If
anyone can free the mystery-from ceremony, from worship,
from disinterest, even from the hounds-it will be someooe lilce
her." Her gaze focused suddenly and settled on the VZI. "Be"
ddes, you face your own danger here tonight, don't you? Where
do you think she'll be safer? In the forest, where the secrets will
watch over her, or here?"

"Oh, God," Frankie said. "I don't know. What she's planning
to do, whst you're saying . . . it scares me."

"But only because you don't understand. The unl~nowa
doesn't have to be grim."

Valenti thought about what could happen here tonight. It was
W enough that he had one amateur sround. Did he really need
someone else to look out for?

"I think we should let Ali get on with whst she's doing," he
said to Frankie. "She's your daughter snd it's your decision, but
that's what I think. Things could ge' p~tty hury sround 1=e
tonight."

"Maybe I should jus' take her and go," Frankie ssid.

~hat's running again."

"I know that, Tony. But maybe I'm just not cut out for making
a stand. I came back here to exorcise old ghosts, not take psrt in
a gangster shoot-out."

Valenti nodded. "Well, it~s your decision, Frsakie. Either way,
I'll bsck you. lust do what you thinlc is right."

"But I don't knowJ"

"When all's said sud done," Mally said, "all rosds lesd to the
same end. So it's not so much which rosa you take, as how you
talce it."

That mede sense, Valenti thought. We all got to die sometime.
So it's the way you lived that you left behind. Beside him, Frankie
nodded as she, too, thought it through.

"Tell Ali I wish her luck," she said.

"As she'd do to you " Mally said. "I think you made a strong
choice. Whether or not it's the right one, I don't know. But it's a
strong one."

FrsDkie found herself smiling.

"Listen," Valenti said. "Do you thinlc you could take Ali to
stay with Lewis for tonight? I mean, I don't know how long it's
going to take you to do whatever it is thst you're going to do, but
I'd feel better if I didn't have to worry about her suddenly showing
up in the middle of a firefight, you know whst I'm ssying?

~cr'~uu~ ~ ~c

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I'd like to thinlc thst whoever's moving out there in the bush
around this place tonight isn't someone we got to look out for."

"She can stsy with me," Mally ssid.

"I thought you didn't have a place," Valenti said.

"But I have the whole forest!" Mally hopped to her feet, grinning.
She waved breezily to the pair of them. Before either of
them could spealc, she was moving off across the lawn, heeding
for the forest. In the blink of sn eye, the trees had swallowed her
and Frankie sad Valend were alone once more.

"Did I do the right thing?." Frankie wondered aloud.

Valend didn't snswer. He knew she didn't expect him to.

"God, I wish I knew what was going on there tonight," she
added.

"I know what you mean," Valenti said. "But right now, I think
I'd like to know what's going down with Louie more. He's playing
this whole game too cagey for the way I like to do business."

"Maybe he's not coming anymore," Frankie said. "Maybe
your friend Mario managed to talk some sense into the people in
charge."

Valenti shrugged. And maybe Mario had declared open seaso
on the Magaddino family and then there'd really be hell to pay.

"Of course," Frankie said, "there's still my ex. . ." Her voice
trailed off.

"It's always something," Valenti said. "Cosifana tuttl-that's
the way of the world."

GREENMANnE

CHAPI ER FOUR

"He whz`?" Louie growled into the phone. "You'd better run that
by me again, Johnny-I don't think we got such a good connecbon.'

Sitting by the window, watching him, Earl smiled. Aw, he
thought. The big bad Mafia hitman's gening himself some bad
news. Ain't that a fucking shame. He studied Louie for a mornent,
taking in the whitening knuckles around the handset and
the sb~in that was showing in the man's features, then turned to
look out at the view of Ottawa's skyline. This was Louie's seventh
or eighth call-Earl had lost track after the first &w-and
the first one to give him some answers.

It had all started when Louie went to make his regular late
afternoon call to his old man. For awhile there, he'd gonen no
answer. When someone finally picked up the phone at the other
end, it turned out to be a cop Louie had hung up quickly, phoning
around until he'd gotten hold of Johnny "Bomps" Bompensiero.
Maybe he's gonna wish he never did, Earl thought.

"Bernie's doing what?" Louie demanded. "Hey, since when
does Bennie have anything to say about-I don't give a fuck,
lohnny. We're talking the Magaddino family here, or are you
forgening who pays the bills? I answer only to the padrone and
my old man-you hear what I'm telling you? This bullshit
you're handing me's pissing me off. I'm in the middle of something
important and I got to-"

Louie broke off and something dark passed across his face as
he listened to lohnny Bomps. Earl turned to see what was going
on. He glanced at Fingers who was watching his boss with a
worried expression.

"You sure?" Louie said softly. "Okay. I hear what you're saying.
Tell whoever that I'm flying in tonight and I don't want
nobody talking about this outside the family-not till I get back.
Hey, they owe me that much, lohnny. Iust tell them that I'm
calling in my favors. I got a lime thing to clear up here in the

278

279

next couple of hours and then I'm flying home. Right. This'll be
one I owe you, lohnny. Yeah, thanks."

Louie cradled the phone and turned toward the window,' not
seeing Earl or the view, his gaze fixed on memories.

Christ, Earl thought, looking at him. Ever since these wops
blew into town he'd been running afound, wiping their asses like
some browo-nosing tourist guide. He had bener things to do than
get involved in some fucking mob soap opera. He should never
have mentioned a word about Valenti-let the wops take care of
their own problems. He should have just grabbed the money and
run. He could have been in Bogata by now, or at least on his way.
First class-him and Howie.

Earl frowned, thinking of Howie. Howie had been something
of a twerp, but he'd had his uses. What bothered Earl most about
the fact that Howie was dead, though, was how the little fucker'd
bought it. Somebody'd just punched a hole in him. Earl didn't
feel any particular loyalty to Howie but you couldn't let guys go
around wasting people that worked for you. It made you look like
an asshole. Like you were obt of control. And nobody wanted to
work for someone who was out of control.

"What happened?" Fingers asked.

Earl looked at Louie. Fercrissalces, he looked like he was
gonna cry.

"The old man's dead," Louie said. "Him and Ricca-they got
hit this afternoon. Iohnny don't know all the details, but there's
some kind of shit going down. Bennie Lafata's waving around a
paper that puts the finger on Ricca for calling the old Don's hit
and the old guard's got some funny idea about backing him as the
new padrorie."

"Where'd they get hit?" Fingers asked. "Who did it?"

"Christ, I don't know. They were in the old man's office.
Somebody just blew 'em away."

"Papale " Fingers said. "It had to be the Fox did it. Christ,
I'm sorry, iouie. Broadway loe was the best we had."

Louie started to nod. "You're right. It had to be Papale. That
gives me two reasons to blow the fuck out of Valenti."

"What's going on?" Earl asked. "I had a deal and-"

"My old man's dead!" Louie shouted. "Can you understand
that, you dumb fuck? You got nothing now-no deal, nothing!"
He started to draw his gun, but Fingers got to him before he
could pull it free. He held onto Louie's arm and turned to Eari.

"You better get out of here," he said.

For a long moment Earl was ready to face them down. Wid.

- ~

~z~ u': "u'&

fNe deal going down thc tubes he felt like showing these wops
just where they could blow it, but then he ~ealized that althougb
they might just be a couple of assholes, tbey were a couple of
assholes that were connected. No point in calling the mob down
on his own ass. He could wait for a better time.

"Hey, I'm sorry about your old man," he said. "I just wasn't
thinking. You say there's no deal, okay. There's no deal. But cut
me in on finis Valenti shit-I'll do this as a freebie with you, just
to show my goodwill. What do you .sayT'

Louie stared him down, glared at him until Earl's gaze flicked
away, tben slowly he calmed down. He let go of his .38 and
Fingers stepped quickly back, an apology on his lips that Louie
waved away.

"Tbat's okay, Fingers," Louie said. "You did good." He
fumed back to Earl. "So what's in it for you?"

"I told you straight-goodwill and that's it."

Louie shrugged. "I don't trust you."

"Okay. Then I'll stay out of it. Let me just ask you to do one
thing-keep my family out of it, all right? I need fhe kid to hold
over my ex's head and I need my ex to sign over her bread to me.
After fhat, I don't give a shit what happens to them."

"Now that I can understand," Louie said. "See, I know you
got no loyalty. You don't understand what we got in the fratellanza.
But wben I know it's your own profit you're fbinking
about, then I can trust you not to fuck up."

Earl couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was like fLese
guys foolc all this bullshit seriously. What the fuck was the mob
in business for if it is wasn't to turn a profit?

'~So here's the deal," Louie said. "If Valenti's alone, we take
him-me and Fingers. We're not going to play this pretty anymore.
Tbis time we're going in and we're going to blow the fuclc
out of him. If your old lady's around, we'll let you talk her
out-but just long enough to sign over the bread. After that,
she's got to go. We're not leaving aQything of Valenti's standing.
Nof him, not his house, not his women, nothing. Capito?"

"That's fine by me," Earl said. And it was. The wops could
take turns blowing the hell out of each other for all he cared-
just so long as he got to walk away with his bread. "Are we going
nowr

"We're going to need one or two more things," Louie said.
"How long'U it take you to run us down a roclcet-launcherT'

Earl blinked. "Hey, come on. Whattre you-"

"You don't understand, do youT' Loute said. "These fuc~

=~mAn ~ L!;

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C01

killed my old man, not some asshole I never heard of, but n~ old
man. I want Valenti and Papale in little pieces. I want to drop
their ears on the old man's coffin when it gets lowered into the
ground, you understand?"

"Right. A rocket-launcher. That's gonna cost."

"Money's no problem. Fingers give the man some bread."

Fingers pulled out a billfold filled with U.S. currency and
started counting out hundred dollar bills into Earl's hand.

"That's enough," Earl said when he was holding twenty of
them. "If I can't get it for this, it can't be got. You want anything
else?"

Louie shaped a fist with his right hand and tapped it against
bis bft breast. "Everything else I need's right in here," he said.

Earl looked into Louie's eyes and saw something in them that
he found in bis own reflection sometimes. It was a piece of madness-
not fruit loops but the kind that could pass for sane, until
you check out the eyes. It leapt like a spark from Louie to Earl
and Earl grinned.

"I guess you're right," he told Louie.

Fingers Maita stepped back and regarded the peur with misgivings.
There was something in the air and he didn't like it. He
Icnew that neither man cared for the other, but right now it was as
though they were brothers. He d known Louie for a long time,
and knew him to get like this once in a while. He was hard to
hold down, then. He just went crazy until he levered whatever
was standing in his way. Fingers didn't give a shit about tbat-
Louie was the boss and what he wanted done got done-but this
way of doing it just made things too risky.

The air in the room almost crackled with whatever was passing
between the two men. Then just before it broke off, Fingers
thought be heard something, a sound like a flute coming from a
long way off, but as soon as he started to listen to it, the vague
music faded and he wasn't sure if he'd actually heard it or imagined
it. As soon as it was gone, whatever it was that had linked
his boss to the Canadian was gone as well. We're getting into
some weird shit here, he thought.

"Give me a couple of hours," Earl said. "I'll be back so we
can still make it out there before it gets completely dark."

Louie looked at his watch. "If you're not back by seven-Sfteen,
we're going on without you."

Not with the honeypot that was goMa bankroll him Iying there
right in tbe line of fire they weren't. "I'U be baclc in time," Earl
~aid and headod out the door.

282

ksus, Howie, he thought as he was waiting for the elevator.
Too bad you're missing out on this. It's gonna be some party. Hc
grinned. Anything'd be a party compared to the car trunk that
he'd shoved Howie's corpse into, though he wouldn't mind being
there to see the face of the dude who finally opened his trunk
when the smell got to be too strong and he found himself staring
face to face with Howie Peale and his amazing maggot show.

The elevator arrived with a ping and Earl got in, turning his
thoughts to the business at hand. Who the fuck did he know that
could come up with a rocket-launcher in the next hour or so? By
the time he was out on the street, he had a destination in mind.
He'd just check out the Ottawa chapter of the Devil's Dragon
biker gang. If those suckers didn't have it, it probably hadn't
been made yet. At least not when it came to hand-held weapons.
Christ, he'd even seen a full-size cannon out there one time.

Charles d4 Llat

. ~

CHAPTER F~k

The top of Wolding Hill lifted a flat granite face from its woodea
shoulders. It was a solid expanse of rock with little vegetation
except for an old pine growing out of a fat crevice that time and
the elements had filled with wind-gathered dirt. The pine grew in
one corner of the summit and had shed a carpet of browned needles
that had needed sweeping.

Using cedar boughs, Ali and the wild girl cleared the needles
away from the area they were using. Throughout the afternoon,
they lugged fuel for the bonfire up to the summit, laying it down
on the rock. By the time they were finished, they had a tangle of
windfalls, twigs and most of the bones from the skeleton of a
deer that Mally had found, all piled up in a circle that was five
feet across and almost four feet high at the tip of its cone.

Ali sat and looked at it now, poking at the wood with the
.metalshod point of her walking stick. She still wasn't sure that
what she was doing was right; she wasn't even sure exactly what
it was that she was doing here. All she knew was that she had to
see it through.

She stared at the antler that lay at the very top of the pile. This
one was different from the small antlers that had been with the
deer skeleton. It was carved with designs and hung with beads
and feathers. "They were Old Hornie's once," Mally had informed
her. The twin to the one in front of Ali should be in her
mother's hands by now, she thought. She wasn't really sure why
she'd sent it along with Mally.

She heard a sound, someone scrabbling up the last bit of bare
rock, and turned, almost expecting it to be her mother or Tony,
but it was just Mally returning from having delivered Ali's message.
She had a paper bag in one hand, a leather water-bag slung
over her shoulder.

"'Lo, Ali. Come see what I found." She presented Ali with
the bag that, when Ali opened it, proved to hold sandwiches.
Ali's stomach grumbled as she smelled them.

283

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284

Charles de Unt

"Where did you `find' them?" she asked.

"At Lewis's cabin."

Ali started to tell the wild girl that just taking things wasn't
right, but she was too hungry to carry the argument. Thank you,
Lewis, she thought as she took the top sandwich out. "What did
my mom say?" she asked around a mouthful of bread, sliced
hardboiled eggs, cheese and watercress.

"Well, she started out saying no,,' Mally replied, taking the
other sandwich, "but she changed her mind."

"What made her change her mind?"

Mally sh~rugged. "Don't really know. I think it's partly because
she Icnows you have to do this and partly because they're
cXpeCting their own trouble down there and they want to keep
you out of it."

All stopped chewing. Trouble. That meant either her farther or
the men that were after Tony-or maybe both. She wondered
how ~nuch Tony had told her mother. He had to have told her
about the stag at least and something about what Ali was doing
up here' but what about the men who were after Tony? Had he
told her about them and why~they were after him?

Probably not. She couldn't see her mother accepting that very
readily It was too bad, though. Ali had been having hopes of
maybe getting the two of them together when this was all over.
But they were probably too dense to know that they'd make a
good couple, and knowing her mc~her, once she did find out
about Tony's past, all bets would be off.

"They both had guns," Mally said.

']hey did? Both of them?"

blally nodded. "Small ones." She mimicked a pistol with her
hand "And one that was neither small, nor big like a rifle."

Considering Tony's background, Ali thought, that could be
just about anything. "You sure my mom had one?" she aske~d
again She just couldn't believe it.

"Oh, yes," Mally said. "I saw it, di~ln't 1?"

Way-to-go, Tony. Turn my mother into a moll. But just remc~
nber-she's not Sybil Danning. Not by a long shot. And
thost were just movies, not the real thing. Ali wasn't sure if the
idea that her mother had a gun comforted her or not. It was good
to l~now that she'd be able to protect herself, but Ali liked her
mother the way she was. She needed to assert herself a linlc
more, especially around men, but this?

Ali sighed and took another bite of her sandwich. What a
weird move this had turned out to be. We have to put down some

,~

~nc~. . _

roo~, ber mother had said. Fmd a place we can really call our
own. But tbe peace and quiet they'd botb been looping for hadn't
&ppeared. Ali tbought about how their lives had turned topsyturvy
in tbe past few weeks. She didn't regret it-not exactly.
Not when you weighed Tony and Mally and tbe stag-especially
tbe way the mystery made her feel-not wben you weighed not
ever having known them against the trouble that bad come witb
tbem.

"Did you have enoughT' Mally asked.

Ali looked down and realized that sbe'd devoured her sandwich. "
I guess so," she said with a rueful smile. "I'm not being
very good company, am 1?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been moody-brooding all day."

Mally shrugged. "Talking's not everything, Ali. Sometimes
just being together's enough. Didn't the mystery teach you that
yetT'

"I'm not very good at lessons, I guess." Ali licked a crumb off
ber finger. "Are you sure my mom understood why I couldn't
come homeT'

"No. But I think she trusts you to know yow own heart."

'Vrhat'd be tbe day," Ali said, but she knew she wasn't being
fair. Her mother was pretty good when it came to discipliniog
ber, but she gave Ali a lot of slack. Ali fowd that she didn't get
into a lot of the messes that other kids did simply because sbe
l~new ber motber trusted her not to and Ali didn't want to blow
tbat trust. "I hope they'll be okay," she added.

"You can't worry about them," Mally said. "You've got to
think about Old Hornie now."

Ali shot a glance at the unlit bonfire. "When do we start-
you know, lighting the fire and everything?"

"When we hear Tommy's pipes-that'd be best."

Ali nodded. She looked away to the west. The sun was lowering
steadily, turning into a deep orange ball as it neared the horizon.
She hadn't brought her watch, but by the way the shadows
were lengthening down below them in the forest, she didn't thinlc
it'd be too long until nightfall. Then they'd hear Tommy's pipes
and light the fire and she'd call the mystery to her. . .

Thinking about the piping reminded. her of last night anc
where Mally and the stag had taken her. That place was almos
lilce tbe music itself-very real, very here and now, but wn
a~ly, otherworWy, fey at the same time. She loved the soun~
of that old word. Fey. That's what people would say if sloe''

a286

Ch~ de Lb*

lived back then and they saw her riding the stag, with a horned wild
girl for a companion. "That Ali," they'd say to each other. "She's so
fey." Either that or they~d burn her as a witch.

Ali loolced at the heap of wood in front of them and shivered. She
turned to Mally.

"What about the Hunt7' she asked. She'd already told the ~vild girl
about hying seen them outside her window last night.

"Don't think of them," Mally said, "or you might call them to us.
But if they do come-don~t listen to them. Everything they tell you
will be a lie. Logical, oh, yes, and persuasive, but a lie nevertheless."

"I'm nervous."

Mally smiled. "Don't be. You rode on his back last night, didn't
you7'

"Well, yes. But this is different."

"Yes," Mally said softly. "It Will be different." She studied Ali for
a moment. "Try to be a little merry," she added.

"I'm having enough trouble keeping my knees from knocking
together, little say trying to wear a smile."

"But merry can mean ~looking for' as well as 'happy', you know.
Try to be a little of both-keep a balance and you.won't do so bad.
The merry poet searches for her muse, but she does so happily. Why
don't you do the same?"

"I'm not searching for a muse," Ali said. "I'm calling the stag to
me."

"Some people might say that's the same thing."

Ali frowned and looked away, first to the antler on top of the unlit
bonfire, bedecked with its feathers and beads, then westward, to
where the sun was just peeking above the horizon now.

"I just want to taLk to him," she said. "I want to ask him if hc
wants to be free-that's all, Mally. I'm not looking for anything for
myself."

Mally nodded. ù'1 know. But you beve to do something for
yourself at the same time, or it's all in vain."

"I don't understand."

"I know," Mally replied. "But it doesn't matter. It'll happen just
the same."

"You know more than you're telling me-don't you? What's in this
for you, Mally?"

The wild girl shrugged. "I don't really know more," she said. "I
don't know what's in it for me, or you, or even Old Hornie. I just
know that some things must be done-the Icnowing just

::

GREENMANUE         287

comos to me. I think it's because I'm a secret, that's why I know
things, but I don't know why I know them."

"You're the reason Lewis's son left, aren't you?" Ali guessed. "And
Lily's son and the others, too. You taL6ced to them and showed them
what lay beyond the village and these woods, and once they saw it,
they just had to go. Isn't that so7'

"I talked to them. But I always said the village needed more people
in it, not less. I didn't make them go."

"You wouldn't have to."`Ali felt she was close to something now,
but she wasn't sure what. It srasn't simply a matter of figuring Mally
out-who she was and why she did what she did-but something
more. "You gave Lewis the books," she went on. "Did you talk to
Ackerly Perkin as well7'

Mally didn't answer.

"Are we freeing the mystery," Ali asked, "or binding me to it7'

Mally lifted her gaze until her cat's eyes studied Ali. "It's gdting
near the time," she said. "Best light the bone-fire now."

Ali didn't say anything for a long moment. Answer me! she wanted
to shout. She wanted to grab Mally and shake the truth out of her, but
she knew it wouldn't do any good. There was only one way to find
out now and that was to see this thing through to its end. God, she
thought as she pulled a pack of matches out of her jeans. I hope I don't
regret this.

Lewis smiled when he saw that the bag of sandwiches and the
~Ivatersack were gone. He'd seen the two girls heading for Wold Hill
and knew something was up. He also knew that they'd be hungry, and
while Mally would never ask for something, she wouldn't find it at all
hard to just 'find' the provisions and talce them along.

I wish I knew what you were up to, he thought as he looked
toward the hill now. The twilight was deepening. He stood, listening
to the quiet, enjoying it. For a few minutes all the questions and
riddles were held at bay by the simple beauty of the moment, then he
heard a scuMe of feet on the path running bg his house.

He looked over to see Gaffa bound by, Tommy following the dog
at a slower pace, his pipes in hand. This wouldn't be a gather-up night,
Lewis thought, but all the same he left his cabin behind and followed
Tommy Duffin up the path to the old stone.

288

Ch~es de LInt

:;

He had a feeling that something was in the air tonight. He jus;t    P

didn't know what. He certainly didn't intend to miss out on it.

The kindling caught quickly and soon the flames were licking
the bark of the larger fuel. One match, Ali thought. Not bad. And
I've never even been a Girl Guide. The sun set as she watched
the fire take hold. Soon it gave off more light than the graying
sky. She glanced at Mally. The flickenng light made shadows
play across the wild girl's features. Then Ali's heart gave a little
thumping lift as the sound of Tommy's pipes drifted up the hill.

"Call him to you now," Mally said softly.

Ali nodded slowly. "How?" she asked.

"Use the fire that burns inside you."

I don't have a fire inside, Ali wanted to say. All I've got is
butterflies. But the sound of the music against the crackle of the
bonfire woke something inside her and she thought that must be
it. She concentrated on that feeling. Looking into the bonfire,
mesmerized by the dancing flames, she tried to call the mystery
to her.

"Use his name n Mally said.

"I don't know his name."

"Give him one then-one that you will know him by."

Old Hornie, Ali thought, then shoolc her head. No, that was
Mally's name for him. Iust lilce Lewis called him the Green Man.
What did she think of him as? Iust a mystery. A small smile
tugged at her lips. Maybe as Bambi's father?

"Can you feel the night?" Mally asked. "It's listening. Call

Ali nodded. But I don't have a name, she thought. She had to
baclc away from the fire a little as the flames continued to rise.
People are going to see this for miles, she thought. What if they
send in forest fire fighters? It was a beacon. To call the mystery,
yes, but if he were real, then mightn't there be a whole realm of
otherworldly denizens that it could call? Victorian elves and
gnomes came to mind. Illustrations from dozens of children's
books. Faeries and trolls and everything in between. She thought
of the Hunt that had been watching her window last night, thc
pack of hounds that chased the stag. She shivered and put the
image of them away.

Instead she tried to think of a name for the mystery. What
came to mind was a chapter from an old fnend of a book, Thc
Wind in ~k Willows. Grahame's Rat and Mole and especially

;.'~

GREENM~

~ .

~,

:~

.

..

:~

289

Badger all walked through her thoughts. She'd never been as big
on Toad as most people. It was the quiet creatures she'd loved the
best, the descriptions of quiet times. Picnics and Yule nights and
rowboats on the river. . .

She remembered thc chapter where Otter's son Portly was lost

and all the animals went out looking for him. Rat and Mole in
their rowboat . . . they found him, but they found something else
as well. The mystery watching over the little otter. Grahame
called him the Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Ali never thought of
Pink Flo'~d when she heard that phrase-just of Grahame's book,
of Rat and Mole's awe, and of the chill that ran up her spine
whenever she thought of those few pages, or read them again.

That's who you are to me, she told the mystery. I just wish I
knew your name.

She could see him if she closed her eyes. Not as a stag or a
Green Man lilce Lewis did, nor as he'd appeared in the otherworld,
but as the goatman he'd been for a moment last night. The
long curling horns and the pinched features that reminded her a
little of Mally. His reed-pipes were like Tommy's, but different,
too. Because his music was different. What Tommy played made
her want to move; it made her emotions dance until she just had
to step her body to its rhythm. But the other music, his music, it
would fill her with peace. She'd never heard it, but she knew
what it would be like. She knew just what it would be like.

She tried not to hear Tommy's music, searched instead for the
melody that she knew the mystery would play if he had the pipes
instead of Tommy. Closing her eyes, she drew up the image of
bim in her mind. It flickered just at the limits of her grasp. His
music was almost there, but then Tommy's piping stole it away
and her memories went back to last night again. The goatman
was a stag when it came to the old stone. There was dancing. She
was moving to the music with Lily. Then Mally caught her up
and tossed her onto the stag's back and they were off and away
-away into some elsewhere.

She went with the memory, followed it on that wild ride
through a forest that didn't exist in this world, to the summit of
that otherworldly mountain with its circular stone formations.
The moon hung low and full, the stars were so bright. Her breath
frosted in the air. The mystery was a stag, then a man in his
mantle of green leaves and she was standing in front of him,
asking him what he wanted, asking him for a name. Again she
was caught by his gaze-as powerful in memory as it had beea

290 Ch~ de Lht

last night. Something in their gazes connected and went on and
on and on.

There's no name for something like you, she thought. No one
can name you. All they can do is take an aspect that they can
see and call you by that. Pan. Old Hornie. A Green man. Greenmantle.

Greenmantle.

That's what I'd call you, if I only knew you from last night.
But I've known you all my life, haven't I? You're what makes
the seasons change, the blood to flow. You taught me how to
breathe when I left my mother's womb. You taught my body to
grow and my heart to recognize you when I finally saw you. In
the pages of a boolc. In the melody of a tune. In the spread of a
branch against the sky. In the hop of a robin, the eyes of a cat, the
scent of a blossom. . .

She watched herself turn away from him in the memory-because
Mally was calling her. They had to leave that place in
dsewhere. It was time to go before . . . before what? Then she
heard the sound of their baying, and the warm feeling that the
memory had left in her chilled in her veins. The Hunt. The pack.
They had to hurry, because if the hounds caught their scent in that
place, they'd chase her and Mally, just like they chased the stag.
In her memory, she saw that they'd gotten away from the paclc.
But then she remembered later that night, the hounds at the edge
of the forest, watching her as she stood by the window....

Her eyes opened with a snap. The fire blinded her for a moment,
and she blinked, looking away frotn it.

"Mally?" she slatted to say, but the wild girl was gone.

She stood up, shivering for all the heat that the fire threw off.
Something was wrong. She couldn't hear the piping anymote.
How long had she been away in her memories? It couldn't have
been too long because the fire was ~ill burning high. But where
was Mally? Why did she feel so strange?

The sound of the pack came to her again, but very close now.
She stooped and picked up Tony's walking stick, holding it with
nervous fingers. Something was very wrong. She turned slowly,
staring at the dat1cened forest, her night vision poor from looking
into the fire. Ilut when it cleared, she saw them stepping from the
undergrowth. They weren't hounds now, they were men in
hooded cloaks. The foremost held a crucifix between himself and
her.

"M-mally. . .?" Ali mumbled.

The fire was behind her, the pack fanned out in front of her.

GREENMA~E

291

There was nowhere to go. The mystery hadn't come and Mally
had deserted her. I didn't call you, she wanted to tell the hooded
men, but the words choked in her throat. I wanted the mystery.

"Don't be afraid," the foremost man said. "We have come to
save your soul."

Behind him, two of the other men shook ropes out of the folds
of their cloaks and advanced on her. Ali held the pointed tip of
the walking stick out toward them, but her hands shook so much
that the stick fell from them and clattered on the stone. Her knees
went woWly and she sank slowly to the ground, staring at the
hooded men with wide frightened ey'es.

"P-please," she said. "I don't . . . I don't need to be saved."

The man with the crucifix shook his head slowly. "You will
thank us when we are done," he said.

The men with the ropes leapt forward and caught her by each
arm, then dragged her toward the old pine tree. Ali was so scared
she couldn't even struggle. She just went limp in their arms.
Pkase, she cried soundlessly. Mystery. I was just trying to help
you. Help me.

There was no answer to her soundless call. The woods remained
silent as the men bound her to the tree.

"There is a demon in you," the man with the crucifix said.
"Through the power of God we will cast it from you."

The rope hutt her wrists and as~kles as they tied her spreadeagled
to the tree. Her strength came back to her in a panicking
surge, but it was too late now. She strained against the ropes, but
that only made them burn her skin as she struggled to free herself.
Her blood hammered in her temples. The crucifix was thrust
up near her face and the hooded man stared at her, but because
the fire was behind him, all she could see was darkness inside his
hood, as though he didn't have a face. Behind him, the other men
went down on their knees in a half-circle.

"Oh, Lord, we beseech you," the man with the crucifix intoned. ~'
Aid us to rid the world of this evil."

Not real, Ali told herself.~This wasn't real. But the ropes were
real. The bark of the tree was rough against her back. It was real.

"Who are you?" she cried, her voice going shrill with pamc.

"Your saviors, child. Fear the demon inside you, not us."

He touched the crucifix against her forehead and a red hot fire
went through her mind. Ali cried out again, but this time all that
escaped her throat was a long wordless wail.

'Yrust in the Lord," the hooded man said, but Ali was too far
gone now to hear him.

-:

CHAPTER SIX

~ 1

GREEI~JMANItE

293

wider world again. Let him run free so that he doesn't just reflect
what lies in a few minds, but encompasses the wonder of the
world at large. A reflection that will be neither good nor ill, for'it
simply is.
She hugged her l~nees and rocked back and forth, delighted
with what she was accomplishing. I needed someone like you,
Ali, she thought. Oh, for such a long time. The winds of the
otherworld blew through your soul long before Old Homie toolc
us there. Can you hear them now? Can you feel them on your
face?
In thc flicker of the bone-fire Mally watched her companion,             Ali's eyes were closed. Mally leaned closer to peer into the
waiting for the tell-tale glimmer of the inner fire she hoped would           teenager's face. What do you sec nght now? she wondered. She
walce in the teenager. The bone-fire continued to bum higher.  ù         felt a great affection for Ali and started to reach forward to brush
Combined with Tommy's piping, it opened doors in Ali that even           her short blond curls with a brown hand when a sudden draft of
Ali couldn't be aware of. Mally nodded in satisfaction.        -    cold air flickered across the summit of Wold Hill. Mally blinked,
- You'll heed this calling, won't you, Old Homic? she thought.           and between thc closing and opening of her eyes, Ali disapListen
to its pulse-see its brightness. How can you resist?              peered.
Mally could hardly contain her excitement. A moment lilce           Mally leapt to her feet, looking all around the summit. "Ali?"

this was all too rare. The mysteries tended to roam a smaller and               ~she cried. "All! Aliiiiii!"
unaller area as they grew older, dwindling in stature, in magic,                ~Gone. Disappeared like a forgotten thought. Mally paced neruntil
sometimes they simply faded away. But tonight Old Homie         <;      ~vously around the fire, her nostrils flaring as she tried to pick up
would be sent out into the world again like a gust of fresh air.                ~Ali's scent. Old Hornie hadn't taken her, because Mally would
He'd blow through the hearts of men and make them sit up and                  have sensed his coming, would have known he was here, long
before Ali. But if Old Hornie hadn't taken her into that elsewhere . . .

Mally raced through the forest, making for the old stone. She
ran at a breakneck pace, bounding from stone to fallen tree,
dodging low-hanging boughs and deadfalls. When she burst into
the glade by the old stone, just Lewis, Tommy and the dog Gaffa
were there. No Old Hornie. No Ali, either-though Mally hadn't
been expecting her here. Tommy broke off his playing at Mally's
sudden entrance.
"Did hc comet' she demanded, turning her anention to Lewis,
rather than Tommy. "Was he here?"
"Slow down," Lewis said. "What are you talking about?"
"The mystery! Was he here?"
Lewis shook his head. "No. We've only just come ourselves.
And anyway, it's not a gather-"
Mally turned away from him and glared at Tommy. By the
piper's knee, Gaffa growled. "Play those pipes!" she cried. "Call
him here! Now, now, now!"
Tommy loolced at her dumbly, whatever spirit possessing him
when he played, long gone now.

sec again, even if only for a moment.

Mortals were such that just the smallest taste of that srght
would send them questing the rest of their days to recapture it.
And while that questing would remain unconscious in most,
while it would be only a tiny part of their overall being, it would
be enough to return a spark of old glory to hearts that were
dimmed. It wasn't the magic of the mystery that was important,
~aor the finding of it, but the quest itself.

It might save a forest, it might save one tree. One man might
be kinder to another, when he mi~t otherwise have passed the
need by. It was beauty that needed preserving, whether it lay in a
forest, a field, or a city street. Whether it was the workings of a
plant, from seed to new growth to mulch, or the workings of
some complex machine. There was room for everything in the
woM, so long as men remembered the beauty. And once seen, as
they would tonight when they brushed Old Hornie's thoughts as
he chased the world itself in his freedom, they might not remember,
but they would never forget. Some part of them would
dways recall what they'd only seen howsoever briefly tonight.

So call him, Mally thought, looking at Ali. Let him know the

292

:~

294

Ch~es de Lb~

"What's the matter, Mally?" Lewis asked. "And where's Ali~"
"Gone!" she cried. "Stolen like smoke. Taken to..." And
tt~ she knew. .'Did you hear them tonight, Lewis?" she asked.
"The hounds? Did you hear them?"

"I thought I did-just a few moments before you atrived. But
the sound of them was very faint."

"Oh, they've got her, then. They've got her!" The wild girl's
eyes flashed with anger-as much at herself for not realizing this
rislt as at the pack itself. "I should have waited for Midsummer's
night. I shouldn't have been in such a hurry." She looked suddenly
at Lewis. "And see where it's gotten me? I'll be lucky to
get her back now, little say set Old Hornie free."

"Set him_ n

"I'll need the fire in the lame man to call him to me now. No
time to set him free. All I can do is hope that he can take me to
~vherever the pack has her before it's too late."

"Too late for. . .?"

She was off before Lewis could finish his sentence. He
watched her bound into the woods, taking the trail that led to
Tony Valenti's house. Lewis shook his head, then he looked up
toward the summit of Wold Hill. He could see a glow there in the
sky above the trees. What had they been up to? He glanced at
Tommy, who sat with his pipes on his lap, staring off into oothing,
then over to where the trees had swallowed Mally.

A cold chill went through him as he looked back up the hill.
The feeling he'd had earlier came back stronger than ever. There
was something in the air tonight, only he was no longer a patt of
it. But when he thought of that young girl that both the stag and
Mally had taken such an interest in, when he thought of her in
some danger. . .

Mally had mentioned the hounds. Lewis didn't know why
they would be after Ali, but he knew he had to do something.
What he could do, he didn't kno" But he had to at least tty.
There'd be time enough later to find out what Mally had meant
when she talked about seeing the Green Man free. Didn't Mally
know that men today had more dark than light in their hearts-
tbat the mystery would reflect that darkness back into the world
because of what men had become?

Giving Tommy and the old stone a last fool`, Lewis started up
d~e hill, his aging heart filled with misgivings.

:~›

CHAPTER SEVEN

A half hour before nightfall, Valenti stood up from the kitchen
table. He took out his .38, checked its load, then replaced it in its
shoulder.holster. Next he checked the UZI and the pouch of spare
rounds. He put a windbreaker on, then slung the UZI from his
shoulder by its strap. There was a small pack by the door that he
slung over his other shoulder. It had a couple of thermoses of
coffee and some sandwiches in it.

"Time to go," he said.

Frankie nodded. The automatic snug in the holster that hung
from her belt was an unfamiliar, but somewhat comforting
weight. Glancing at tbe table, she thought, we really should clean
up thc dinner dishes, then realized how ridiculous the thought
was.

"Do you really think they'll come tonight?" she asked.

"Something's going down tonight-all my instincts tell mc
that. Bener grab your jacket. It's going to be cooler now that the
sun's down."

Frankie shrugged into her jacket. Now that they were actually
going to go out into the night and wait for the anack, she had to
ask herself again why she was doing this. It wasn't the kind of
thing that,fit into her life. What was happening now belonged on

some cops 'n' robbers show, not real life. Practicing with the gun
this afternoon, listening to Tony's strategies, hadn't prepared her
for the reality that she had to face now. If Earl came, if Tony's
enemies came, could she do anything?

Valenti could see what she was going througb. "Look," hc
said. "You can still bow out of this. You don't have to be a part of
it. I'll tell you right now that it's going to change you. If you
come out of this tonight, you're never going to be the same
after."

"I'm oot sure I feel the same right now-I'm already not thc
same person I ~vas a couple of days ago."

295

296 Charles de Lint

"You could go to the village, or you could take the car and get
yourself to someplace safe."

Frankie shook her head. "4li's still out there. I won't desert
her. And I won't desert you. I'm responsible for part of what's
happening tonight. If Earl comes, it's because of me. And those
other men--they wouldntt even know you were here if it wasn't
for me."

"They had to find me sooner or later, you know what I'm
saying? I knew that."

"I'm not running again," Frankie said. "This is all crazy-the
guns and everytlung-but I'm not running."

Valenti regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "You're
going to do just fine," he said.

Franl;ie wasn't sure how she should take that. He meant it as a
compli~nent, but she didn't see anything fine about carrying a
gun, about maybe having to use it.

"C'mon," Valenti said. He picked up Mario's crossbow and
started out the door, favoring his leg. Hc hoped it wasn't going to
slow him down. Louie already had an edge with the extra manpower
he could command.

Frankie gave the inside of the house a final look. In the warm
interior lighting, the big room had a cezy look. Nothing about it
suggested the violence that the night was going to bring.

"Coraggio," Valenti said. '~That's what Mario'd say if he was
here. Have courage."

"Coraggio," she said. "Like in 'don't let the bastards get you
down'?"

"You got it."

"So let's do it," Franlcie sad. She followed him out into the
night, scared but determined not to show it.

"So here's the plan one more time," Louie said-needlessly
as far as Earl was concerned. Christ, these wops liked to hear
themselves talk. "You and Fingers each take a side of the road
and follow it up till you're flanking the house-one on each side.
You got to get a position where you can watch both the back and
sides at the same time, capito? Then when I let go with this
sucker-" he patted the rocket launcher than Earl had managed to
piclc up from the Dragons "-and blow out the front of that
fucking place, you can just pick off anybody who tries to make a
run for it. And aim low, ol~ay? I want a chance to look Tony in
the face before I finish him-~at's if I don't blow him to fuclc
with the first shot."

-                    GREEM  ~7'

Earl shook his head. "We're gonna have to be in and outfast,he
said. "The noise that thing's gonna make, the place'll be
crawling with cops~ before we know it-even out here in the
sticl~s."

This was a case where Fingers agreed with Earl, but he dido't
say anythiog. Louie war,ted to use a rocket-launcher, then that's
what they would do.

"You let me worry about the cops," Louie said. "Now get
goiog. I'll give you ten minutes to get into position, then I'm
hitting the front."

Earl picked up his .38 from the seat beside him and stuck it in
his belt. Grabbing a rifle, he got out~of the car. "I'II take tohe left
side," he said.

Fiogers nodded.

'VT>n min',lec "

,1

:

~ ..~_~, Louie repeated. "That's all you got."

Fuc} off, Earl thought. What do ya thinlc this is, the army?
"You got it, Louie," he added aloud. Aod m aybe, just accidently
on purpose, a stray shot might take your greasy little head off-
you know what l mean?

He started off along the road leading up to Valenti's place,
angling into the woods as soon as he was away from the car. He
had something else he wanted to check before he played Louie's
game. If Franlrie was home, they just might be playing by a new
set of n~les. But the house, when it came into sight, was darlc.
Either Frulkie had split, or she was up at Tony's.

He moved closer to checlc the lane, spotted the car sitting in it
and nodded to himself. Okay. Tony's it was. That fucking Louie
better not blow up his meal ticket, he thought as he hurried to get
ioto position up by the Valenti place. Earl Shaw's had to wait too
loog to get on the gravy train again.

"Nervous?" Valenti whispered.

Franlcie nodded, the movement almost lost in the da*ness.
They were in the woods in back of the house, right at the edge of
the trees. Va1end skill carried the UZI slung from his shoulder,
but the pack with coffee and sandwiches had been stashed in a
tree where oo one would run across it. He carried the crossbow.

"I'm feeling a little nervous myself," he said. "There's sometbing
in the air-like the way it gets just before a storm, you
hlowT'

"Coragg~o," Franlcie whispered back, lilcing the sound of the
word.

~bbati gHnacd. He ~4arted to answer, thee coclred his bead.

a298 Clu~rl" de Lll*

"Listen," he said, leaning close to breathe the word into Frankie's car.
"Do you hear itT'

At first Frankie didn't inow what he meant, but theo she heard it,
too. The soft piping came drifting out of the woods bobind them, a
distant eerie sound.

"Makes me feel quiet and excited-all at the same time," Valenti
added, before leaning away from her.

They sat and listened to it. Valenti remembered the slaclcfaced boy
who changed when he brought the pipes to his lips. He thought of the
dancers by the old stone and the stag when it came-biggest goddamn
deer he'd ever seen.

Frankie thought about Ali and prayed that she was safe. The music
helped ease her fears. There was something in it that told her that
there were good things in life to balance the bad. A simple enough
thing, but it was a real comfort at the moment. Wherever that music
came from, it couldn't be bad, she thought. It couldn't hurt Ali. She
reached out and found Valenti's free hand and gave it a squeeze.

Valenti started at the touch, then squeezed back. Simple thing
that-a touch of hands in the dark-but it turned his determination to
iron. Nothing was going to hurt this lady-not if he had any say in it.
He felt good, holding her hand, knowing she was so close to him, but
he had to wonder what kind of a stupid fuck he was, letting her get
involved in what was going down tonight. Mary, Mother of Jesus, he
pra-yed. Get us through tonight and I'll burn a hundred candles for
you. I know I'm not much, but do it for her, okay?

It was a long time since he'd prayed or thought about the church.
When he tried to picture the Virgin, he couldn't. He saw only Her Son,
up on His cross, and damned if He didn't have the same eyes as the
stag.

At first, Fingers thought the music was coming from thc house.
But then he was in position and he realized its source was deeper in
the forest behind them. He didn't like that. It meant there were~people
closer than there were supposed to be and people always made
trouble.

He didn't lilce this job. You do a hit in the city, it's no problem
disappearing into the crowd. But out in a place like this, thc cops'd b~
stopping anything that moved, fercrissakes. And there were only so
many roads out of here-unless you wanted to try the backroads and
that was just asking to get lost.

No, he "bought. Therc was going to be shit flying no matter

GRE~NMAr~ ILC

~7

how you turned it. He checked his watch. The luminous digits told
him he had a minute to go before Louis let loose with bis rocket.
Christ, he wished that music'd stop.

He started to count out the seconds and moved a little closer to the
edge of tbe trees. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, but he
had tbe feeling tbere was no one bome. He trusted his instinct-you
bad to in tbis kind of work-but he'd know for smc in a coupb of
moments.

Ol~ay, Louie. Let her go!

Earl wanted to get closer to tbe house, but it was drawing too near
to the zero hour. If Frankie was in tbere, he didn't want ber blown to
pieces before he got his bread from her. That fucking wop! Wbat tbe
hell did he have to blow tbe place up for anyway? By the dme they
were finished with Valenti it wouldn't make any difference to him if
his house was standing or not.

Earl moved out of the woods to the corner of thc old brokendown
barn and studied the house. Nobody moving in the windows, but that
didn't mean shit. They could be humping on the floor for all he knew.
He glanced at his watch. No time at all to checlc it out now.

In the quiet as he counted down the remaining seconds, he became
aware of the music drifting out of the woods behind him. That shit
again. He had a nervous memory of that big buck deer suddenly
coming onto him, but then he patted his rifle. lust try me tonight, you

fucker. We'll see whose show it is. But he wished the music'd ease up.
It grated on his nerves.

His fingers tightened on the trigger of the rifle. He'd lilce to have
whoever was making that sound in his sights right now.

Louie Fucceri paid no attention to the music. He smiled
humorlessly as he got into position. He could see the lights of the
house from where he stood on the road. He edged in closer, then knelt
in the dirt with the launcher balanced on his shoulder. He aimed
through the break in the hedge where the walkway came down from
the house to meet the road.

Nice of you to line things up like this for me, Tony. Time to say
bye-bye now. This is for the old man, you hear what I'm telling you?
You don't fuck with the Fucceris, Tony. It just don't pay.

He fired the weapon. The rocket roared from the launcher with a
tail lilce a comet's trailing behind it. By the time it hit the ho~ue and
toolc away most of the frmt wall with its explosion,

300

Charles de Lb~t

Louie was running toward the building, the auto-reload shotgua
in hand.

"Boom," he muttered. "Did you hear that, Papa? You show
Tony a good time when he meets you in hell, okay?"

huger5 thought he heard something moving in the woods to
his right. He began to turn in that direction to check it out when
the explosion came. There was a moment of shocked silence,
then before he could turn back to the house, he hd somebody
cry out from where he~d heard a sound a moment ago.

He didn't even think. He just eased down the trigger of the
Ingram and sprayed the area with bullets.

"Jesus Christ!" Valenti cried when the explosion ca;ne. "What
the hell was that?"

He started to rise. They had to get out of here. It sounded like
Louie'd brought in some full-scale artillery, fercrissakes. He
turned to tell Frankie to just run, that they were getting out of
here and never mind making a stand, when a line of bullets cut a
swath through the bush. Valenti dropped to the ground, pressing
Frankie down. A second line exploded, lower this time. It was
only the trees between themselves and the gunman that saved
them.

Frankie froze. She pushed her face against the mulch and panicked.
When the bullets finally stopped and Valenti rose to his
feet, she just stayed where she was, unabb to move for a long
moment. When she lifted her head, it was to see Valenti out on
the lawn taking aim with the crossbow.

He was talcing advantage of the time their attactcr needed to
change clips. She heard the wet shuck of the crossbow bolt as it
hit its target, heard the man cry out, then the sharp cwk of a rifle
cut across the night and she saw Valenti lifted up onto the tips of
his toes before he sprawled face forward on the lawn.

She stared numbly at him. Was he dead? Oh, please God, he
couldn't be dead.

The rifle sounded again, Icicking up sod a few feet from Valenti.
She had to go to him. She had to drag him to the safety of
the trees before they shot him again, but she just couldn't move.
The rifb fired again. More sod flcw up, closer again.

"T-tony?" she called in a hoarse whisper. Oh, Jesus. He was
dead. "Tony?"

Then she saw his hand move, clenching at the grass and dirt.
What was he doing? When she realized that he was trying to

GREE~

:

;

. .
~..
~r

301

drag bimself baclc into the trees, she b~ew she had to belp him.
Corag~w, shc could hear him say in her mind, rememberi~ng,
but she didn't have any courage. Doesn't matter, she told herself.
You've got to help him all the same. Swallowing thiclrly, she
drew the automatic he'd given her and aimed it in the direction of
ehe dfle flre. Then she crawled out toward Valenti.

..

.,

:

. .

~..
~r
'{
..1
. ~
4'

Earl blinked when the rocket hit the house. Iesus. It had demolished
the place. He aimed his rifle toward the baclc in case
somebody came out, but he~didn't see anybody surviving that.
You can kiss good-bye to the br~ead now, he oOId himself. So
much for Fucceri's promise that he could have Franlcie for as long
as it eoolc her to sign the money over.

Ihe chatter of Fingers's Ingram brought his attention to the
woods in baclc of the house. He saw Fingers step from the trees,
spraying the woods with bullets. When he paused to change
clips, a figure moved onto the lawn and aimed something at
Fingers-Earl couldn't make out what it was, but he saw Fingers
tal~c a fall and then he was firing his own rifle.

The figure went down and Earl grinned. Got one. Maybe the
big Tony Valenti himself. He put a couple more shots around the
fallen figure, then turned when he sensed he was no longer alone.
Louie stood there, his face looking weird in the flickering light
thrown by the burning house.

"I hit somebody up by the beeline," he told Louie, "but whoever
it was got F~ngers first."

Louie ourned slowly, ~om the house. "Fingers bought it'

"'Fraid so."

"Shit. Show me."

Earl pointed to where the men had gone dowo, then paused
when he saw a blonde-haired figure crawling to the man he figured
was Valenti. Well-well, everything wasn't a total loss He
started to gd out of the light thrown by the fire, realizing that
if Frankie was around there might be others. Fucked if he
was going to take a chance at getting hit at this point in the
proceedings, but Louie just started across the lawn. He had the
sho~n up and was ready to fire, not giving a shit who toolc a
shot at him.

It was a real shame, Earl told the audience in his imagination.
I mean, we took 'em out, but we lost botb Fingers and Louie in
the action. A crying shame.

He brought the rifle up to his shoulder ar d eased his finger on
Ibe trigger. The bullet caught Louie in the baclc of the head.

{ ~ ~ F gN$.i/E

:  :  ~::  ::

I        ~           ~I               i~ ~il~j t5

304

CharIes de LInt

strike back. She was not going to be the victim again. Tony was
depending on her. On her hands and knees she covered the few
feet separating Valenti from her, tugging at his UZI when shc
reached him. The gun came free. She turned with the weapon in
hand to sec Earl on his feet, still hurting, but drawing a handgun
from his belt.

"Goddamn you!" she cried and pulled the trigger, only the
trigger wouldn't move. Nothing happened. Moaning, she did the
only thing she could think of and threw the useless ,,un at Earl's
face.

. .

:~
.

;,,
,

;

.,

..~

i
5

''`,~

.,,

~:.
: :t

, .>i

~'

4
3

~J

CHAPTER EIGHT

It took him awhile-Lewis was feeling his age tonight-but hc
finally reached the summit of Wold Hill. He stood there, catching
his breatli, and stared at the bonfiec. It reminded him of his boyhood.
New Wolding was all new then-another steading carved
out of the wilderness, differing only from a hundred other such
places in Eastern Ontario by the beliefs of its people. Their beliefs
and their insularity.

There had been bonfires then-down by the old stone. Once a
year they offered a ram or a bull up to the spirit that spoke
through Tommy Duffin's pipes.

Things had been simpler then. But the village lost its solidarity
as the young ones began to move away and the old ones died
off. And Lewis had changed. Mally had given him the dark
man's books and he'd come to question as much as those who'd
left had questioned, only he had stayed, searching for answers at
the source of the riddle, rather than out in the world beyond.

He couldn't remember just when they had stopped the offerings
or the bonfires. Green grass grew where once the charred
circle had been black in the glade, where the red blood had
flowed. Had there been a pack then? Lewis couldn't remember. If
Perkins hoynds had been around at the time, they hadn't been
quite so bold.

He wondered what Mally and Ali had been up to tonight.
Neither of them was here now. He hadn't quite understood what
Mally meant about Ali being gone. Stolen like smolc, the wild
girl had said. By the Hunt. By Perkin's hounds. They might even
be my hounds now, Lewis thought uneasily.

He moved closer to the bonfire and spotted Ali's walking stick
Iying where she'd dropped it. He bent down slowly and picked it
u p, hefting it in his hands.

There was something about this hilltop tonight, he thought.
Something different. He could feel something in the air-a gathering
of . . . intention, he supposed. He didn't feel alone. Therc

305

306 Charles de Lbet  GREEM~1=    307

was a charge like static electricity in the air, a heaviness like thc
forewarning approach of a storm.

He turned from the fire and looked out over the darkened
forest. The sky was clear, the stars sharp and bright against the
black sky. The smell of smoke mixed with the pungent odor of
cedar and pine. If there was a storm coming, he thought, it
wasn't a physical ooe. What had the girls been doing here? Calling
the mystery-that was what. To set him free. That was
enough to cause a storm, Lewis thought.

The dull boom of Louie Fucceri's explosion reached the summit
where Lewis was standing and he looked skyward, thinking it
was thunder. Thc sky was still clear. But then he made out thc
glow, far off in the woods where hc knew Valend's house to bc.
Hc heard the chatter of gunfire. He could frel the anger that was
unleashed when men took weapons to hand.

Lewis had always been open to the flow of the woods, to the
mystery's presence in the forest, to the way Tommy's pipes called
the mystery and the way the mystery answered. So he felt the
emotions coming from Valenti's house, but hc felt stronger ones
very close at hand. There was anger here, too. Fear as well.

He turned slowly, but hc was still alone on the summit. When
bis gaze reached the old pine tree, he shivered, but he didn't
know why. He took a step toward the tree, then paused as he
heard the sharp clatter of hooves on rock. He looked for the,
mystery, sensing his closeness, but couldn't find him-not as a

stag, not as a Green Man.

Mally, he thought. What have you wolcen here? And where
are you now?

Mally had reached the slow moving waters of Black Creelc
and was just starting to cross it by the stepping stones when she
rcalized she was no longer alone. Something was out in the night
with her. She paused on the New Wolding side of the creek and
loolced back the way she'd come, trying to pierce the gloom.

"Hornier' she tried.

The willows rustled and the shadowy bulk of a boar stepped
free of the slender trees, his tusks gleaming, his bristled hide
swallowing the starlight where it touched him. Mally glided from
the stones and knelt beside him, running her nails along his hide.
The image of a burning fire slipped from his mind into hers and
Mally nodded.

"Yes," she said. "All was calling you. But something's taken
her and I think it was the Hunt. Will you help me find her?"

The tusker shook his head. Two images blossomed in Mally's
mind, one following the other in quick succession. The first
showed the boar returning toward the fire of bones, the other
Mally going on across the stream.

"Oh, no," Mally told him. "I have to come with you."

She looked the solemn beast in the eye, surprised at how
much he had communicated with her already. The mystery didn't
concern himself overly much with the workings of the world. He
simply went where he went did what he did, amoral as a wind
that is neither good nor evil but simply is. And like a wind, thc
mystery could be channelled. By Tommy's pipes. By the chasing
of the Hunt. By a fire of bones. By the moonlight. By a thousand
and one things.

Mally was afraid that if she left him to himself the mystery
would simply wander off after a time, forgetting Ali-not becausc
he wasn't intelligent, but because he had never given Mally
any reason to suspect that he had much of a memory. Did the sun
remember what it passed over during the day? Did the wind remember
all its journeys?

She laid her hand on the boar's shoulder, then stepped hastily
back as he began to change. The bristled hide became a cloak of
leaves. The boar's head, a man's head with ram's horns tonight,
rather than antlers.

He had a thousand and one shapes, Mally thought.

The mystery regarded her steadily and new images leapt from
his mind to hers. She saw the fire of bones again, but it became
two. separate fires. In one she saw just Ali's face, frightened and
desperate. In the other was a view of Tony Valenti Iying still on
the grass, his life's blood draining from his body. Ali's mother
stood over Valenti, confronting a man that Mally vaguely recognized
from a few nights ago. This was the companion of the man
she'd killed last night.

"What are you trying to tell me?" she asked the man in his
cloak of leaves.

"Who needs you more?" the mystery replied. "The lost or the
dying?"

Mally took a few quick steps back, stunned at the sound of his
voice. She'd never heard him speak before. The voice was resonant
and low and sent shivers up her spine.

"You. . . you can talk?" she said.

She suddenly understood the wonder that Ali must have felt
~e first time she'd seen Mally's horns, the first time the stag had

308 Charles de Lh~t

come to her, the first time her life had changed. Mally might have
been less surprised if a tree had turned and spoken to her.

"No . . . no one needs me," she said when she realized that the
mystery w.asn.'t going to answer her.

~ ~ ~ c:~ 1~ ~

"Every living thing needs a secret," he said. "You must
choose whose you will be tonight. I will go to the other."

"I "
. . .

Mally looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. They
were good for hitting and grabbing and "finding" and the like,
but healing . . . ? She had heard the explosion that had come from
the lame man's house. Right now, he lay hurt, dying. The mystery
had shown her that. What could she do for him? Besides, she
was responsible for Ali. But if Ali had been stolen away by the
hounds, Mally knew she wasn't strong enough herself to deal
with them. She could run, oh, very quick, and was good with
triclcs and such, but to rescue Ali that wouldn't be enough. Perhaps
she should go to the lame man.

"Choose," the mystery said.

"I don't knew!" Mally cried. "I'm just a secret-the riWle,
not the answer. I'm not wise like you."

The mystery looked at her for a long moment. then turned and
disappeared among the willows.

"You can't go!" Mally shouted after him. "I haven't chosen
yet!"

But she already had, she realized. The mystery had taken it
fiom her mind, knowing her choice before she did herself.

"If I'd truly been wise," she muttered, "I'd never have set any
of tonight into motion."

She thought about what the mystery had shown her. She'd just
have-to trust him to rescue Ali while she tried to help the other.
Turning, she bolted across the stream, taking the stepping stones
two at a time. There'd be time enough to wonder about it all-
the mystery talking, wisdoms and those which weren't so wise,
who was free and who was not.... She'd puzzle it all out later.
Now was a time for doing.

f~

kn the glade on the side of Wold Hill, watched over by the old ;1,
stone, a man in a mantle of green leaves stepped from between
the trees and out onto the grass. Gaffa whined and crawled forward
on his belly, sniffing at the man's feet, puzzled at the lack
of a scent. For a moment the man studied the stone, his ram's
horns gleanung in the starlight, then he stepped toward it and
d~appeared inside.

~..~.~

w'

Behind him, Tommy Duffin awoke to find himself standing
with his face pressed against the cold rock, leaning there, his
pipes half-held in a limp hand. All around him were green leaves,,
as fresh as though they'd just been pulled from their tree. They
were thick around his feet and made a pillow of sorts for him as
he sank slowly to the ground and sat in them.

Gaffa laid his head on Tommy's knee and Tommy began to
stroke his pet, wondering all the while at the strange dream he'd
just had. He }new he hadn't left the glade, but he felt as though
he'd been waLlcing, as though some part of him had come an
immense distance and still had a long joumey to complete before
the sun rose.

Shaking his head slowly, he lifted his pipes to his lips and
blew softly across them. Ag~unst his back, the old stone seemed
to shiver in response.

GREENMANI1~

311

inside the man's hood, but the images he projected ~rere too
stn)ng.

"Not truer, he shouted. "And what of this-is this not true as
well7"

She saw a man in a field with a German shepherd. They were

ù Iistening to the goatman's music, and like the goatman, the man
began to play with himself. She saw him again, in bed with a
woman, entering her from the rear, howling like an animal. She
saw him shoot the dog. She saw him attack her own mother
thtowing her up against the hood of a car, tearing at her clothes.
She sa~v him place the barrels of the shotgun that he'd used to kill
the dog in his own mouth and pull the trigger. And all the while
that hellish music sounded, like nails dragging across a blackboard,
and the goatman was standing there behind thc man, grinning,
grinning....

"Nuh-nuh truh!" she cried.

But she knew it was. What the hooded man showed her now
-this had all occurred. She could see the goatman laying his
pipes aside, dipping his fingers into the man's blood, the forked
tongue licking the red liquid from the fingers with obvious relish....

All true.

''This is what Satan offers," the hooded man said. "This and
nothing else. Torment and hurt. 'Resist the devil, and he will flee
from you.' Believe in the Good Book, child. 'God is light, and in
Him there is no darkness at all.' No room for such blasphemy
against life."

Novv she saw the old stone in its glade, the villagers capering
around in a circle to the music that an older version of Tommy
Duffin played on his pipes. She recognized Lewis and Uly-
both younger than she knew them to be now. A man stood by the
stone, holding a long-bladed knife. Two other villagers brought
out a bull.

The man cut the bull's throat open and caught the gush of
blood in a large metal bowl that he offered up to the stone, where
the mystery stood again, but now he was an antlered man. His
eyes still burned rod. The nails on the ends of his fingers were
long talons as he reached for the bowl. When he drank from it,
streams of blood flowed around the edges of the bowl and
dripped from his chin onto his cloak of leaves. And all the while
thc villagers danced and the piper piped his hellish tune.

True.

She saw a coupb copulating in the forest, the goatman piping

CHAPTER NINE

~his is what you have worshipped, child." tbe boodod figure
said.

Ali head his words thtough her pain, but they didn't immediately
tegister. He held the crucifix against her brow and a white
heat exploded from the contact, spreading thtough het nervous
system like a brush fire. Incongruously, her thoughts went to tbe
folk tales and fantasies she was so fond of reading. Elves feared
iton and the symbols of Christianity. Did the hooded man's CtUCifix
burn ber because she was one of them? Earlier sbe'd been
imagining herself as fey. Maybe she really was, and now she was
going to burn for it.

In tbe instant it took for those thoughts to rush thtough her, the
pain faded. She went limp in her bonds, hanging from the tree
like a rag doll, while a wave of imagery Rooded her tnind. The
hooded man filled her with what he wanted her to see.

"Look upon its evil," he said, "and tepeat after me: 'The Lord
is my rock, and my fotttess, and my deliverer.'"

"N-n-nuh . . ."

Ali tried to shake her head, but the crucifix kept her pinned
against the tree, immobile, while the flood of images went
thtough her.

The goatman strode through her mind, his face twisted witb
lust, eyes timmed red, his phallus standing erect between his legs
like a tree. He fondled it as he stared at Ali. A long forked tongue
slipped ftom between his lips and moved sinuously to the rhythm
of a music that was like the sound of Tommy's pipes-that same
kind of instrument was its source-but it was a discordant sound
that came forth, a sound that raised her hackles and sent a shiver
of repulsion thtough her. Her throat worked convulsively and she
gagged.

"For th~s creature you fotsook the Lord?" the hooded man
demanded. "For tbis monstrosity?"

"N-nuh truh," Ali managed. She tried to focus on the sbadows b

<::

V.j

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:~

:~:

:

:

310

a                                                      312 Ch~rles de L"
(iR~NMAN lLl:                                         313

over them as they tore at each other in a frenzy. The lust in their eyes
was just a pale glimmer of what she saw in the goatman's eyes as he
qaculated onto the couple.

True.

" 'Abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul,"' the
hooded man quoted. "Is this the monster you aspire to, child? Is it
your innocent body you would have the creature penetrate with its
godless lechery?"

"N-nuh . . ."

They paraded through her mind, hateful image following hateful
image, until Ali chokej on them. Repulsion filled her throat with bile.
She struggled against the ropes in a sudden frenzy, but there was no
escape either from her bonds or the images that the hooded man
poured into her mind by way of his crucifix.

"The scriptures ask, 'If God be for us, who can be against us?' and I
answer you, Satan is. You look upoo his works, child. Can you still
embrace him? You sell your soul when you consort with hNn. Rcpeat
after me ~God be merciful to me a sinner.'"

Ali could barely hear him. The discordant music, the hellish images,
were driving her further and further from sanity. You lied to me, she
cried to the mystery, to Mally, to Lewis, as she plummeted into
madness. You lied to me. You said he was good, but you
liedliedliedlied. . . ."

"Evil is legion," the hooded man cried. "There is but one Son of
God. Child, accept Him as your Savior!"

A maelstrom of violent and lecherous images swirled around Ali as
she fell from sanity. She clutched at the booded man's words, but
when he named Christ by name, tbe image he gave her was of Jesus
hanging on tbe Calvary Cross, His body wracked with pain, His eyes
full of hurt, the crown of thorns piercing His brow.

There was no comfort to be found there. It was all tbe same.
Violence and hurt. If Christ was a Savior and men had done that to
Him, given Him so much torment, then what hope was there? They
had done this to Him and done, as well, so much evil in His name.
Tbey had tortured and raped and killed, all for a man they had hung on
a cross, a man tbey would nail to a cross again if He returned to them
now

Lewis had been right in that, she thought as she started to let
berself go. There was no more point in struggling. Better to just go
away, to give up life, if this was all it offered. If behind each

smiling facade, men had only hate and hurting to give each otber. I
guess you told me one true thing, Lewis, she thought.

"If you would be saved," the hooded man told her, "tben accept the
Lord. He is all that can stand between you and the monster that has
you in its clutches. Accept the Lord, child! 'His enemies shall lick tbe
dust.' Accept Christ as your Savior and you will be saved!"

But Ali wasn't listening. She had caught hold of a thought and
where nothing else had helped her, tbat thought did.

Lcwis.

What Lcwis had said about the mystery.

He kas always been a reflection ~f what one brings to kim.

So if you came to him with violence or lust in your heart, that was
what was reflected back. But if you came to him with goodness,
without evil . . . Nobody was perfect, but if you really tried to be
good and approached him, then he'd be good for you- wouldn't he?
She pictured Jesus in her mind, not the hateful image of Him on His
cross, but others she had seen, of a gentle man, a kind man....

A light began to blossom inside her, burning away the hooded
man's images. Her tormentor had shown her truths, yes, but not the
whole truth.

The light continued to grow inside Ali add the hooded man
stumbled over his words. He took a step back, stanled, perhaps even

frightened, by what he saw in his victim's face. As the crucifix lifted
from Ali's skin her head cleared. A differcat fire, her own fiec, burned
away the confusion, the fear. She saw Christ's face and smiled when
she saw that He had thc mystery's eyes.

It was so simple that she could have wept. The mystery was only
what you brought to him.

The light inside her began to flow out of her pores until she was
like a fiery statue. The ropes burnt away. Pushing herself away from
the tree, Ali staggered toward the monks. Were they what you brought
to them as well? They had chased her down because she'd carried the
scent of the otherworld on her when she'd returned from that place in
elsewhere. But when she'd confronted them, had it been her own fears
and confusion that had put the words in the hooded man's throat?"

"I don't need to bc saved," she said softly.

Thc light burned from her. Where it sbuck the hooded figuecs, tbey
smoked. Their cloaks hung loosely on them now, and then

314 Chades de Llnt                    :GREENMABJUE  315

they were a milling paclc of hounds, whining with uncertainty,
cringing as she stepped toward them, finally fleeing.

That's it7 Ali wondered. That was all it took?

"Was it such an easy struggle?,' a voice asked from behind
her.

Ali turned to find the mystery standing under the pine tree,
watching her. Ram's horns curled from his brow and a mantle of
green leaves fell from his shoulders

"You came very close to not surviving at all," he added.

Ali looked at him. The awe she~d felt the last time she'd seen
him in that other place wasn't present now. This being that stood
so quietly under the tree seemed like an old friend.

"I called you," she said, "but they came instead."

He nodded. "They were something you had to confront. I
came to help you, but you didn't need my help after all."

"But you did help me. I'd given up, until I remembered what
Lewis said, that you were what wc brought to you. That's true,
isn't it?"

The horned man nodded.

"Do you want to be free7' Ali asked. "That's what all this was
about, you know. I had to know if you wanted to be free."

"Whether I wanted to be free, or you?"

"1. . . I don't know. I want to bc free, sure. I just didn't know
that I wasn't. What about you7"

"I can't be free until mar~ind is no more. But I can't be
bound, either."

"What arc you?"

"A mystery." He smiled. "As your friend Mally said, does
everything need to be eXplainedr,

"It'd help," Ali said. "But I suppose that would make things
too easy."

"Just so."

"Why can't you help thc others?" she asked then. "LiLc tbe
man with thc dog that the hounds showed me. Why does there
have to be bad thingsr'

"I do try to belp, but men will be what tbey must be; tbey reap
what tbey sow."

"Tbere's more tban one of you, isn't tbere?"

He nodded.

"Is Mally one of youT'

"No. She is of your world. As I come from tbat otberplace to
bere to touch your souls, she is of your world itself, from the
eartb and tbe forest and tbe moonlight on them. A little mystery."

"A secret," Ali said. "Does she know wbat she is?"

"Do you know what you are?"

A dozen facile answers came to mind, but Ali shook her head.
After what she'd learned tonight, she knew there was no easy
answer to what she was. To what anyone was.

"I wonder where she went," Ali said finally. "When I was
calling you, she was here with me, but tben suddenly she was
gone."

The horned man smiled. "Not she-you. You stepped sideways
into another place when the hounds ca ne-a place akin to
that otherworld tbat I bore you to last night, but another else

where again. The world and Mally'are still where tbey were."

"Tben how . . . how do I get back?"

He stepped closer to her, drew off his green cloak and laid it
across her shoulders. The leaves rustled and she touched the edge
of the cloak with wondering fingers.

"I will send you back," the horned man said. "Remember me.
Wbat I am, what I can be; what you are and what you can be."

He touched her brow, brushing the skin with his fingers. Ali
blinked. She had the feeling that she was in an elevator, a quiclc
lurch in her stomach. Then she was staring at the same tree, but
tbe horned man was gone. She turned slowly to see the fire still
burning and a figu~e beside it.

"Mally. . . ?" she started to say, then realized who it was.
"'Lo, Lewis," she said and smiled. She felt completely at peace,
with herself, with the world.

Lewis looked up quickly. He heard Mally's familiar expression,
but another's voice. "Ali?" he asked.

"It's me, Lewis." She fingered the cloak. The leaves were
gone, the real ones at least, but by the light of the fire she could
see that the cloak now appeared to be made of hundreds of pieces
of cloth in the shapes of leaves, all sewn together. "I've had such
a time," she said. "I've been all the way there and back again-
just like Bilbo."

Lewis didn't catch the analogy, but he heard the dreamy quality
in her voice. "Are you all right, Ali?" he asked.

"I couldn't be better. What are you doing here, Lewis?
Where's Mally? I've such things to tell you, but first I should see
my mom and Tony so that they don't worry about me. Boy,
they're not going to believe what I . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she caught a look on Lewis's face in
the firelight.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "What happened?"

.   ,

316

CharIes de Lint

Lewis pointed in the direction of Valenti's house where a dull
glow still showed. "I think there's been some trouble," he said
softly.

Ali's good feelings washed away in a flood of worry. "Oh,
God!" she cried and took a few little steps, but she was more
worn out from the ordeal than she realized. She wavered and
would have fallen if Lewis hadn't caught her. "I've got to go to
them," she told him. "I've got to help."

Lcwis helped her sit in front of the fire. "All we can do is wait
and hope," he said. "Mally's gone to help them." I hope, he
thought. "You're in no condition to go anywhere, never mind
traipsing through the forest."

"But . . ."

Lewis took her hand. "Tell me where you've been," hc said.

Ali wanted to argue, but she didn't have the energy. She
leaned her head against his shoulder. "It. . . it's hard to. . .
explain . . ." she began. Her eyelids fluttered and then before she
realized what was happening, she was asleep.

Lewis eased her down so that her head was pillowed on his
lap. He didn't know where she~d come from, out of the blue as
she had, nor what had really happened here tonight, but he knew
that something had. Something important. A change that would
affect them all. He'd just have to wait until Ali woke to find out,
he thought as he stroked her hair.

The poor child was worn right out. He would have taken her
down to his cabin, but he didn't think he had the strength left in
him to make the descent-not carrying her as well. They would
just have to stay here until Mally came back. He hoped she
wouldn't be long, but with all that was happening tonight, he
wasn't raising his hopes. Just so long as she did come back-that
would satisfy him at this point.

He let his chin rest against his chest and continue to stroke
Ali's hair. If he listened carefully, he found, he could hear the
sound of Tommy's pipes, though it was late for him to be playing
them. The sound of them helped ease his worry. But only a little.

CHAPTER TEN

Earl dodged the UZI but lost his grip on his .38 in doing so. The
handgun fell in the grass by his feet. By the time he had it in his
hands again and had turned back to Frankie, she was kneeling
behind Valenti, her automatic pointed at him.

"We already been here, Frankie," he said. "Rememberr'

She stared at him blinking back tears. Oh, she remembered.
What Tony had shown her. What Earl meant to do to her. What
he meant to do to Ali. He deserved to be shot. He deserved the
worst that could happen to a human being.

"You ain't got it in you," Earl said. His teeth gleamed mockingly
as he grinned. "So put that thing down and let's stop fucking
around. You don't need your knees to sign over that bread.
Either you get rid of the gun, or I'll blow 'em off, babe. Simple.
Or maybe you're gonna get brave and pull the trigger. Well, I got
news for you, Frankie. People don~t just fold up and die when
you shoot them. Look at your boyfriend, fercrissakes. He ain't
dead yet. Shoot me, and I'll take you with me. But I don't think
you're gonna shoot me, are your'

She wanted to. God, she wanted to. It was self-defence. Killing
him would be so justified that half the world would get up
and cheer if she did. But she couldn't. Not because she didn't
have it in her, but because it would take her down to his level.

She could care about Tony, even with all he'd done, but she
knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she killed another
human being, no matter how justified. God help her, she
wanted to. But if she did, he'd win. Either way, he won. If she
was going to lose anyway, she would it on her own terms.

She brought her hand down and tossed the gun on the grass in

fro~t of Valenti. His eyes were open, and in the harsh light from
the burning house, she could see approval in them. Somehow he
knew what had gone through her and he respected her choice.
The difference between him and Earl was that what Earl saw as
ber weakness, Tony knew to be her strength.

317

318 Charles de Lint

"All right," Earl said. .`That~s playing it smart, Frankie. Comc
tomorrow morning when thc banks open, we'll get the bread and
then I'll be out of your life. It wasn't so hard now, was it?"

It was the hardest thing she had ever done, Frankie thought,
but she knew he'd never understand.

"What. . . what about Tony?" she asked.

"We leave him."

"But he'll die without help."

Earl nodded, still grinning. "Yeah. I know."

Frankie looked down at Valenti, but there was no recrimination
in his eyes. "I couldn't do it," she said softly.

"It... it's... okay...."

"Oh, Christ," Earl said. "Why don't we get out the fucking
violins? C'mon, Frankie. We got to blow. Cops'll be crawling all
over this place. Maybe they'll find your boyfriend in time...
maybe he'll live long enough for them to take him to trial.
They'll lock him up and throw the fucking key away when they
figuec out who he really is. 'Course maybe I'll just . . ."

He started to aim at Valenti's head, when he heard something
coming at them through the bush to their left. Oh, Christ, Earl
thought. It's that fucking buck deer. He turned in that direction,
aimed, but before he could fire, he heard a sharp report and
something hit him in the side like a piledriver.

"What the fuck. . . ?" He looked stupidly down at his own
gun, then slowly turned to Valenti and Frankie. Valenti fired his
own .38 a second time. This time the bullet caught Ear! square in
the chest and lifted him off his feet before he slammed into the
ground. He was dead before the impact.

"Maybe you ... couldn't... do it...." Valenti said to Frankie
as he let the weapon fall from his hand. He didn't know where
he'd gotten the strength to lift the thing. "But . . . but I could.
1. . . I had to . . . Frankie. You understand . . . don't . . . you . . . ?"

"Don't talk," Frankie said. "Oh, lesus. Don't move. I'm
going to call ao ambulance."

"You got. . . got to get out of here." Valenti said.

"He's right."

Frankie fumed at thc sound of the new voice. In the light from
the burning house she saw the wild girl, thin and dressed in
tatters, her hair a tangle of knots and twigs and leaves. Protruding
from just above her hairline were the two small homs that Frankie
remembered so well. She'd made the noise that had distracted
Earl.

"Mallyr' she said. She looked beyond Mally, hoping to see

G8EEN     ~319

Ali, but the wild girl seemed to have come on her own. "You
don't understand. We've got to get him to a hospital."

Mally shook her head. In the distance they could hear a sireh.

"I don't want you here when . . . wheo the cops come," Valenti
said. "Please, Frankie."

"I'm not leaving."

"You must," Mally said. "And weire taking him with us."

As the wild girl started for Valenti, Frankie blocked her way.
"You don'' understand! He's been shot. God knows what will
happen to him if we move him. He's lost so much blood already...."

Mally regarded Valenti and saw that the fire in him was dying
down, but still there. "The mystery'll know what to do to help
him," she said. "And Lewis will help us."

The sound of sirens was drawing closer.

Mally pushed Frankie aside. "I'm going to carry him," she
said.

The strength in the wild girl's arms when she pushed Frankie
aside should have told her that it wasn't such an impossible thing,
but it wasn't until Mally gathered Valenti effortlessly up in her
arms that Frankie realized that just maybe Mally could do it.

"I'll bc going quicker than you," Mally said. "Follow the path
and it will take you to where we're going. When you reach thc
stream, ignore what you think you sec. Just take the stones

amoss.

"But. . ."

~hc...guns..." Valenti said weakly from Mally's arms.
'Q'ry and get . . . ours before thc cops . . . before they come."

"But . . ." Frankie tried again.

"lust follow the path," Mally repeated, nodding with her head
to where it began. Then the wild girl turued and the forest swallowed
her.

Frankie stared numbly through the trees but couldn't sec anything.
She couldn't hear anything, either. Just the crackle of
flames and thc siren that was now coming up Tony's road. She
took a deep, 6tcadying breath and started to gather the weapons.

Shc slung the UZI over one shoulder, put the automatic back
in its holster, Valenti's .38 in her pocket, counting the weapons to
herself as she did it. Something was missing. Then she remembered
the crossbow and fetched that. She was just entering the
forest when the Ontario Provincial Police cruiser pulled up in
front of what was left of Tony's house. By the time thc OPP

officers made their way cautiously around to the back of the
house, she was gone as well.

She never once looked at Earl after Tony had shot him. She
didn't even think about him.

Lewis lifted his head as the sound of Tommy's piping
changed. The music grew bolder, more insistent. Almost as
though it were summoning them. Ali stirred and sat up, rubbing
her eyes. She heard it, too.

"We've got to go," she said. "To the stone. He's calling us this
time."

Lewis nodded. He got slowly to his feet, joints aching. He
used Valenti's walking stick for leverage. Ali let him keep it as
they made their way down the hill, through the trees and then the
bushes up behind the old stone. The music had grown louder, but
it was no longer so insistent. Whatever possessed Tommy knew
they were coming. As they stepped into the glade the piping
quieted to a murmur.

"'Lo, Ali. . . Lewis."

Mally was waiting for them. By her feet lay Valenti's still
form.

"He needs help," the wild girl said. "I thought Old Homie
would help him, but he's just siKing there in Tommy's eyes, not
doing anytinag. Will you help, Lewis?"

Lewis nodded. He knelt down beside Valenti, but the light
was too poor for him to see what needed to be done.

"We'll have to get him to my cabin," he said, but Mally shook
her head.

"He's got to stay here," she explained. "Old Homie's all that's
lening him hang on. Tell me what you need and I'll go get it."

"Well, a lantem for starters. Hot water. Clean cloth. We'll also
need . . ."

As he listed off the item, Ali shut him off. She went down on
her knees beside Valenti and smoothed his brow with her hand.

"My mom?" she asked Mally, interrupting Lewis.

"She's fine," Mally said. "She'll be along soon."

Ali nodded and went back to stroking Valenti's brow. "Don't
die, Tony, I've got so much to tell you. I've talked to him-to
the mystery."

His eyelids fluKered and he looked up at her, trying to smile.
'1h-that's sen-sensadonal...."

"Aw, jeez. What did you have to get hurt for?"

"It wasn't... wasn't my idea...."

'`That's what you say. Is it over now?"

"1. . . I think so. Depends on how. . . on how Mario did . . ."

Ali laid a finger against his lips. "You'd beuer not talk."

She looked over to Lewis and saw that Mally was already
gone. By the old stone, Tommy continued to play.

The music kept getting louder, helping Frankie keep to the
path. She had one bad moment, at the stepping stones, but she
remembered what Mally had said and forged across. By-the time
she reached the glade, it was well lit by one of Lewis's lamps.
She saw Mally and her daughter talking. A strange-looking boy
was siKing by a tall stone, playing the pipes that were the source
of the music. A dog lay by his knee. And then there was Tony,
Iying there, his shirt off. An old man was just tying off a bandage.
Tony looked so pale in the light of the lamp that her heart
gave a lurch.

"Mom!"

Ali had caught sight of her. Frankie let the weapons fall to the

ground and drew her daughter into her arms. This was what mattered,
she realized. It was for this that she hadn't let herself fall
into the trap of doing things Earl's way.

"Thanl~ God you're okay," she murmured into Ali's ear.

"Let's thank ourselves," Ali said. "We're the ones that did it."
Frankie hugged her tighter.

EPILOGUE

Et in Arcadia ego.
[I too am in Arcadia.]

-inscription on a tomb in a
painting (c.1623) by Guercino

Only to the white man was nature a
"wilderness" and only to him was the
land `'infested" with "wild" animals
and "savage" people. To us it was
tame. Earth was bountiful and we
were surrounded with the blessings of
the Great Mystery.

~uther Standing Bear,
from Land of the Spotted Eagic

..

In the early hours before the sun rose, Ali sat outside Lewis's
cabin. Lewis and her mother were inside, Lewis sining at his
Icitchen table, half asleep, her mother sitting beside Tony, holding
his hand and talking to him, though he couldn't hear her. He had
passed out when Lewis began working on him, but though his
breathing was ragged, he was still alive. Ali liked seeing them
together, Tony and her mother.

"'Lo, Ali."

She turned to find Mally standing by the corner of the cabin.
The wild girl dug about in the pocket of her oversized jacket and
came up with a paperback book that she gave to Ali.

"This is for you."

Ali held it up in the light coming from the cabin door. It was a
eopy of Thomas Burnen Swann's Wollivintcr.

"Jeez," she said. "How'd you know I was looking for a copy
of this...." Her voice trailed off as she realized that the only
reason it had been missing in the first place must have been
because Mally had "found" it earlier. '1hanks," she said.

Mally sat down beside her. "You talked to the mystery, didn't
youT' she said.

Ali nodded.

'Y talked to him, too," Mally said. "I never even knew he
could talk. What did he say to you? Did you ask him if he wanted
lo be free7'

"He said that he already is."

~hen why does he stay here? Why does he let the hounds
chase him?"

"I don't know," Ali said. "Maybe because he's not really free
at the same time." She turned to look at the wild girl. "He's not
really thc mystery, Mally. He's just a part of a bigger mystery."

Mally nodded. "That other place."

"That place," Ali agreed, "but here, too. The mystery that's

325

326 Charles de L]nt

here, in rhis world-he's a part of it, too. There's more than one
of him."

"I wonder why," Mally said.

"Everything doesn't have to be explained," Ali said.

Mally looked at her and a broad smile settled on her face.

Frankie had come to stand in the doorway and caught most af
their conversation. The ordeal of the past few days rose in her
mind, but then she looked out at the forest and thought of it, of~
that glade with the old stone that she'd glimpsed only so briefly.
of the village and Lewis, of Tony. At that moment, from tho~
forest, from the glade and the standing stone, tbe soft sound of
piping drifted to them.

Frankie remembered some of what Ali had told her of ber
experience with the mystery in that place that wasn't here or w..
bat somewhere' somewhen else. A hallowed place, a peacefi~'
place. Woat they had here, in one small pocket of wilderness i'
Lanark County, W8S just an echo of it. But if ao echo was all tbe'
could have, then an echo would have to be enough.

Pan's pipes were playing, and if it wasn't the mystery himself
playing tbem, it was still his music. She wanted to hear th.
music always, to hear it with Ali, and to hear it with Tony.

Iooked like the bad times were finally over and there were thing.
unspoken between Tony and her that could be spolceo now.
Though there was one more thing that had to be done.

"Time to go, Ali," she said softly.

Ali turned to look up at her mother. "Go where7

"Back. Someone's got to explain things to the police. W~i~
any luck we'll be able to convince them that Ear1 and those me.
had a falling out among themselves and keep Tony right out of itl;
We'll tell a half truth-that they were after the Wintario money.

She was no longer carrying the automatic, but she still had the
.38 in her pocket. Now she picked up the crossbow from where it
leaned against the wall by the door.

"We might be in for a bit of a rough time," she added,
cause if I have to, I'm going to tell them that I shot Earl "

Ali swallowed, then nodded. "But they'll think it was self4e-fense,
won't they?"

"I hope so, Ali. Come on, now. We've got to go."

"But wetll come back here . . . 9"

A-li regarded her mother, but Frankie had turned to loo} insido
the cabin where Tony lay. "You can bet on that, kiddo. I doa't
know how things are going to werk out between him and mc, hat
if they don't work out, it won't be because I didn't try."

GREENMAN1IE

327

'~Vhat he used to be-it doesn't maner?"

"Does it rriatter to you?"

Ali shook her head.

Frankie smiled and stepped from the door. "Well, it maners to
mc. It's important to know what a person was. But it's more
important to know what they are now. Does that make any
senseT'

Ali nodded. She looked around for Mally, but the wild girl
was gone. Frankie put her arm around Ali's shoulder, and after
saying good-bye to Lewis, together they started down the trail
that led for home.

"I'll be back to see you, Mally!" Ali called into the forest as
they entered it.

A head hung down suddenly from a low branch above them.
"I I;now you will," Mally said. Then she swung down to the
ground and ran off laughing through the trees. The laughter
faded, but the sound of Tommy's pipes followed them all the way
home.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The preceding novel is a work of fiction. All characters and
events in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to acavl^~
persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

While the fratellanza as portrayed in Greenrrmntle is based oe
an organization that had its origin in actual Sicilian history, thi.
novel should in no way be taken as a disrespectful commen
against anyone of Sicilian or Italian descent. Every race and cur-i
ture has its bad element-if a finger needs to be pointed, it cat
be pointed at us all.

The slang references to racial and ethnic groups do not reflect~
my own personal viewpoint what,soever.

For those interested in this kind of thing, Creen~nantle had iq
roots in the same chapter from Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in th
Willows with which Ali Treasure was so enamored: '`The Piper ~
the Cates of Dawh." My own interest in moon and horn mysteriq
can be traced back to my reading that chapter as a child.

The real springboard, however, was Lord Dunsany's forgotta
fanta~sy 2'he Blessing of Pan. Written in Dunsany's usual Iyric
prose, the book is set up for an atypical climax of the good vice.
overcoming the heinous pagan rites of his flock, only to end witb
a complete turnaround. My sympathies, in such cases, often lie
with the pagans, not because of any particular pagan leanings d
my own, but because I dislike any belief being rammed dowa
anybody's throat.

Since first running down a copy of The Blessing of Pan, I've
retained an interest in that lost village of Wolding, visited only b,
the Gypsies and a horned mystery~hence this book. Had Dun'
sany survived to this day and written his own sequel to Th;c
Blessing of Pan, I find it highly unlikely that he would have come
up with anything like Oreenrnantle. But I do hope that, here ansl
there in a passage or two, some echo of the wonder I first fount
in his book has made its way into what I've written where it;
might touch someone else.

~harles de Lint
Ottawa, Swnmer 1986

328

_

~.~