Knock Out

69

SUDDENLY THEODORE LOWERED his face in his hands a moment and whispered through his fingers, “But I couldn’t protect poor Blessed.” He raised his head. “My firstborn is not possessed of an agile mind. It was foolhardy of him to follow you into the Titus Hitch Wilderness. He should have waited for a better time. But he could not conceive of failing—he and Grace had never failed before, at anything we asked them to do.

“And now Grace is dead. The two of them were always so very close, in their minds, in their hearts.” Theodore raised his head. “You took part of my family, Sheriff; you owe me Autumn to pay for what you’ve done to me.”

Ethan smiled at the profane old man. “You’re worried Blessed will never be able to stymie anyone again, isn’t that right, Theo?”

Theodore slammed his fist onto his throne arm. “You will call me Father or Mr. Backman!”

He sighed, then straightened, trying, Ethan thought, to look like a monarch rather than a pathetic old man. His hands fisted, making the veins ride high under his parchment skin.

He said, pride bursting in his voice, “Whatever happens, it is my granddaughter who did it to him. With no direction from anyone, with no training, with no understanding at all, this little seven-year-old girl simply pulled it out of herself. Did she destroy his power? Wipe it out of him forever? I hope not. But this child is amazing. Blessed was helpless against her. She is her father’s daughter, my own granddaughter. Ah, Martin, another tragedy. I wonder what he would have achieved if he’d only remained with me in Bricker’s Bowl.”

“Why did he leave, Mr. Backman?”

“He was a boy, and he did not understand that with our gifts the Backmans behave as we choose, we are not bound by ordinary rules. We fought, always fought. One evening he said I was crazy, that I was using him, and I lost my temper and beat him. It never occurred to me that he would leave, but he did, and that was his choice. That left Grace and Blessed with us, and now only Blessed. I believe Autumn can help him. What she took she can give back. She must stay, Sheriff. Do you wish to live? Do you wish Autumn’s mother to live? If so, you must convince the child to stay here, with her grandfather, with her uncle.”

Ethan said, “Listen to me, sir, you must. You believe her mother and I can convince Autumn to stay. But Autumn doesn’t want to be here, and when she meets you, I doubt she’ll be leaping into your lap. She loves her mother, and if you harm me or her mother, she will never trust you, and she will find a way to leave, or to do you in. You must let her go.”

Theodore’s old voice was shrill. “You will listen to me, Sheriff. I have lost too much to let her go. No, Sheriff. The child will not leave Twilight.”

Ethan laughed. “Twilight? I don’t see any sky. Being in this place is like being buried alive.”

Theodore slammed his fist onto the arm of his throne. “You will be quiet! You are common, Sheriff, and you understand nothing. I am having Autumn brought in, and you will convince her. You will tell her if she does not stay with me, you will die. Do you understand? I am her grandfather. She will come to accept that. If you value your life, you will help us come to terms.”

The old man slowly pulled a gun from the sleeve of his robe, then pressed a button on the arm of his chair.

Ethan heard the door open behind him. He turned to see Caldicot come into the room, his hand around Autumn’s arm, shoving Joanna in front of him. Autumn pulled and pushed at him, trying to get to her mother, but he wouldn’t allow it.

Whistler tightened his hold on the little girl’s arm. Why was she still fighting him? Didn’t she realize how important she was to all their future plans? Didn’t she realize how lucky she was, what incredible power she had, a power they would teach her to use? If only he could do what she’d done to Blessed—he’d prayed for such a talent. “Stop fighting me,” he yelled down at her, and shook her arm.

“You leave her alone, you bastard!” Joanna dove at him, but her hands were tied behind her and she could only butt her head against him.

Whistler wanted to backhand the woman, but he merely shoved her hard, sending her to the floor. He shouted down at the child, “Look, that’s your grandfather over there! Your grandfather! Your daddy’s father! Get control of yourself!”

Autumn’s eyes went blank, her pupils fixed. She became still, no expression at all on her small face.

Whistler grabbed both her arms, shook her again. “What are you doing? Damn you, what are you doing? What are you seeing?”

Joanna jumped up at him.

Ethan yelled, “Let her go!”

Whistler sent his fist into the woman’s jaw, knocking her backward. He saw the sheriff coming at him and grabbed the little girl around her chest and hauled her back against him. He raised his right hand, and Ethan saw a snub-nosed .38. “Stay back, Sheriff, or I’ll shoot you! Or her, I don’t care.”

“Caldicot, don’t harm Autumn!” Theodore yelled. “Bring her to me. Then you can take the mother and the sheriff out. Look at her eyes—her eyes are like Blessed’s, the intensity burns within her.”

She was looking off, away from all of them, seeing something he couldn’t see. “What are you doing, child? What are you doing?”