Thoughts on a Fellow Traveler

Chapter 5

I

The incident occurred when Belbo looked over at the cage from his seat. The first thing his eyes should’ve found was Dorleac, but instead he saw a bizarre flesh-colored blob. Belbo recognized it. Once he’d visited a fishing village, and a fisherman there had been carrying one—a monster clam. Only this one had no shell. There were only the innards.

“Wh-what the hell is this? Where’d that punk-ass kid go?” Belbo said, rising from his seat in spite of himself and going over to the cage.

He removed the lock and was just sliding open the bolt when Lantz told him, “Don’t do that.” Of course, he said that to remain clear of suspicion. If anything were to happen to Dorleac now, he was sure to be blamed for it.

The prisoner’s transformation into a shellfish was an illusion caused by the winged beast-man in the sky above. Belbo had the keys, and he’d been told not to use them no matter what happened, but under the circumstances he had no choice but to look into this.

As expected, Belbo opened the iron door and went inside. Neither deputy called for the sheriff.

The stagecoach rocked madly. Everyone was pitched to the left. Slamming against the bars, Belbo let out a scream.

It was Dorleac that slipped out the door. As arranged, he ran for the rear door. All he had to do was open it, and the winged beast that’d just slammed the vehicle with an evil gale should be waiting right outside.

As the young man grabbed the doorknob, beefy fingers latched onto his shoulder.

“Belbo?!”

“You’re damn right it is!” the giant of a man said, baring his teeth as he shook his head. “You think that was all it’d take to knock me out? I ain’t about to let you get away!”

Despair slid across Dorleac’s face.

“Okay, now, back in that—”

At that point, a spasm went through Belbo. His right arm reached around to his back, and he turned around. There was nothing but the cage. The brow he furrowed in consternation was pierced by a black speck that then punched through the back of his head. His enormous form crumpled, while behind it, the thing that’d slain him hit the wall with a strident clang. What rolled across the floor was one of the small screws that secured the cage.

The door opened. Rain and wind blew in. As if driven back by it, Dorleac stopped in his tracks.

In that rectangular slice of the dark gray world there loomed a face of unearthly beauty. The man carried a uniformed woman under one arm and had a sword in the other hand as he entered, and as he came, the younger man backed away.

“You’re . . .” the young man began, rapture on his face and in his voice. It would’ve happened to anyone. Human and inhuman alike.

“I saw D,” the young man murmured, as if in a dream.

D laid Louise on the floor. Although he did it so roughly, you could almost say he tossed her there.

Groaning with pain, Louise sat up. The violent gale had knocked her off the stagecoach. She’d blacked out for a moment, but the impact had awakened her. And she’d immediately been greeted by this.

“Belbo? What’s going on here? Who let you out?”

The last question, of course, was directed at Dorleac.

“Lantz, Al—kindly explain just what the hell the situation is!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lantz replied, rubbing a lump on his head as he got to his feet.

Louise also ordered Al to go get JJ.

The stagecoach stopped.

“Looks like you were saved by a beautiful god, eh?” JJ said with a strange look in his eye when he came down and saw Louise and D. He couldn’t believe it, but then with this man, he had to. JJ was like a rock, and a man like him would rather die than call something beautiful. But for those who looked upon D’s face, the word just came out naturally. There was no stopping it. For it was burned into the human subconscious.

Lantz and Al took turns explaining what had happened. Dorleac was back in his cage. Belbo’s corpse had been wrapped in one of the blankets the stagecoach carried and laid out next to the cage.

Looking at the cage, Louise said, “So, him looking like a clam was an illusion, eh? I suppose that was the work of the same bird monster thing that caused the wind. But that bugger took off after D carved up one of its wings. Which leaves the question of who killed Belbo.”

“Couldn’t that have been the bird’s fault, too?” Al suggested, squeezing the words out in a pitiful tone. Due to his naive nature, the third deputy had been struck by an even stronger sense of defeat than Louise.

“After it hit you with the wind, the bird went in the opposite direction—to the rear door. I was there,” said D. “From the sound of it, the deputy was killed after that.”

“Who’d have thought you’d be riding right alongside us, eh?” JJ said, sounding exhausted. “All without me, that bird, or anyone on board noticing you. Sure, the rain was bad, but you’re full of surprises, mister.”

Louise was just about to nod her agreement when she gave her head a good hard shake to try to rid herself of the gorgeous visage that’d burned itself into her retinas. The first time they’d met, she’d been wearing sunglasses. Now they were still stowed in her breast pocket, and she’d seen D’s face with the naked eye.

“Belbo’s killer is on this stagecoach,” said the sheriff. “This was the murder weapon.”

She held up a screw coated with dried blood. She’d picked it up when they were tending to Belbo’s remains.

“But when this thing went flying, there wasn’t anyone in or around the cage. I was knocked on my ass, and Al was in his seat,” Lantz immediately asserted.

“That’s right. In which case, we should be looking for someone with the strength to do such a thing. There are only two of them.”

The eyes of all but the accused focused on Dorleac. And then—on Lantz.

“I don’t have that sort of power,” Dorleac protested. “I was just lying down, and then there was a commotion outside and he came in. Then, when the stagecoach pitched to one side, the door opened. I promptly got out of the cage and ran for the exit.”

“And you opened the outside door, right? You knew that the stagecoach was still moving, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you plan on jumping? You could’ve been injured!”

“I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”

“You didn’t seem all that intent on escaping before, you know.”

“Actually . . . I think I was just sick of the cage.”

Louise and the others could only nod agreement to that. Rules or not, Dorleac might still be a regular human being, but he was put in a cage like an animal. Though anyone could see that would be humiliating, none of them could fully appreciate the depths of it. No one had the right to blame him for following his instinctive wish to be free.

That only left Lantz.

“I don’t know—but it wasn’t me,” the deputy insisted. “You probably won’t believe me, but all I can tell you is you’re wrong.”

That made sense, too. After all, he’d been checked for a bite from the Nobility, while the true nature of the other suspect—Dorleac—was still unclear.

Lantz rubbed his lump.

“Everyone, get in your seats,” said a voice that called to mind lovely steel, if there was such a thing.

“D?”

“Let me try asking them,” said the Hunter. “Everyone, to your seats.”

Louise made up her mind, replying, “Good enough. Back to your seats, folks.”

When the two of them were left alone in the rear section, D stared at Lantz.

“I hear you were checked for fang marks.”

“That’s right. And they didn’t find anything!”

“Were you standing when you went through this device?”

“Yeah. Got myself scanned from the top of my head right down to my toes,” Lantz replied, trying to show the Hunter a confident grin, but it didn’t go too well.

“Show me the soles of your feet.”

“Huh?”

“The rest of them can see the top of your head. Show me the soles of your feet.”

“Hey, what the hell is this? You don’t seriously think I could’ve been bit down there—”

The face of unearthly beauty his eyes beheld intensified its glow. And its coldness. Lantz realized there was no way out. The young man before him wasn’t merely a Hunter; he was an all-knowing agent of fate. All that remained was for his hand to go for the hilt of his longsword.

The strange new blood he’d received the night before last suddenly changed the man. The wind whistled.

D’s right hand became a gleam of light. Canceling a number of threats, the blade knocked them to the floor—several screws.

It wasn’t until the last of his missiles had been batted down that Lantz made his leap. When he landed right in front of the stairs, he had Louise under one arm.

“You can’t get away. Give it up, Lantz!” Al shouted, a long gun braced against his shoulder.

“You’ll hit her!”

Al’s gun was loaded with buckshot. Even at point-blank range, there was a chance some of the spread would catch Louise.

D’s left hand made a sharp whistle. A screw propelled by a powerful jet of air shattered Lantz’s face.

At the same time, JJ stood up.

“Now!” Claire cried out.

She was calling for the unique swordplay she’d seen from the former Hunter the other night. However, when the gore-spattered face turned his way, JJ hesitated.

“Sheriff—get clear!”

Louise’s body spun, freeing her from Lantz’s grip.

A blast of double-aught buckshot came with only a faint report thanks to the gun’s silencer, and Lantz was slammed back against the stairs.

Louise pulled one of the stakes from her belt. Lantz would be getting back up again. Screws and buckshot weren’t enough to destroy a vampire.

When he stood up, a figure landed before him like a mystic bird, slashing him from the top of the head to the crotch with one swipe, then reversing his blade to pierce the enemy’s heart. The sound of the two halves hitting the floor overlapped, sounding like one.

“So it was Lantz after all,” Louise said, her chest and stomach stained red by the bloody spray from the man.

“Want a peek at the soles of his feet?”

“I’ll pass,” the sheriff responded, and then she did a double take.

D’s voice had been horribly hoarse.

“My horse broke a leg when I caught you. I’ll be joining you.”

And saying that, D started down the aisle. That statement had been made in his regular voice.

“D,” JJ said to him. “I was . . .”

Not stopping, D replied, “Next time.”

Was that supposed to mean he’d be counting on the man?

“Don’t sweat it,” Louise said, clapping him on the shoulder, but JJ just stayed frozen in place, unable to even sheathe the sword he had in his right hand. Once again, the passengers were reminded of the fact that he was a former Hunter.

Grabbing hold of the staircase’s banister, Louise said, “I’ve lost two of my deputies. There’s only an hour left to go, but do we have any volunteers?”

She was hoping for D, but there was little to no chance of him coming through. For a different reason, JJ’s prospects were also dim.

“Well, how about me?” the third man, Harman, suggested. “I’m not good with a gun, but if you wanna talk strength, our handsome friend here has nothing on me!”

“Spare us your pipe dreams,” Claire groaned. “Forget being on the same level as him; you’re not even in the same dimension. Yeah, a whole other dimension.”

“You think so?”

“We’ll be in Gasburke in an hour. I’ll let you hire on as a deputy just until then.”

“You can count on me,” the man replied, swinging an arm as thick as anyone’s to pound his massive chest.

Looking incredibly disgusted, Claire brought a whiskey bottle to her lips.

“In that case, go to the rear and keep an eye on you-know-who with Al. I’m heading up to the driver’s seat.”

Once Louise had vanished through the hatch, Claire gave JJ a reproachful look.

“Well, go help her out. A six-horse team is a lot for a woman to handle.”

JJ didn’t say a word.

“What, is it because you’re a grown man, but you were a little late to jump into the fight once or twice? You planning on spending the rest of your life somewhere nobody will see you? Get over it. You’ve got a pair of balls, right? Since the night before last right up until a few minutes ago, you were a man among men, weren’t you?”

“It’s no use,” said D. “He’s known true fear. He’ll never be the same again. For the rest of his days, he’ll avoid fighting.”

“That’s a lousy way for you to put it,” Claire countered. Avoiding looking at D, she continued, “I’ll admit that you’re strong, but he’s pretty great, too. Hell, the only reason we’ve all made it this far is on account of him. So don’t you suddenly come in here and try acting like a big shot. You wouldn’t happen to be in the same line of work, would you? If you are, why don’t you try saying something that might encourage him?!”

“Quit it already,” JJ said, setting his hand on her dainty shoulder. “It’s okay. But it’s like he said—I’m a coward.”

“Well, at least you’re not a cheat.”

Claire turned around, dumbfounded. The source of that moral support—Harman the blacksmith—winked at her.

“You hang in there, JJ. Who cares if you’re a little scared? You’re still a lot tougher than me.”

“Yeah,” said Al. “What’s one time? Farmers like me spend every day worrying about the weather or the way the wind’s blowing, so we can’t hardly sleep at night. And I’ll probably be that way my whole life. Your problems are small potatoes.”

“That’s right, JJ,” Claire said, raising high her liquor bottle. “One time doesn’t mean you’re ruined forever. There’s always next time.”

Suddenly, she stopped. She’d realized that what she was trying to say had been said shortly before by someone else. Her next words were, “Well, I just put my foot in my mouth.”

After sinking in her seat, Claire then slowly raised her head until she could peek over the backrests.

“Sorry about that, mister.”

However, the person she was addressing was lying with his back to the wall in the rear portion, his face hidden from Claire’s view as if to say, Who cares what you have to say.

“Thanks.”

That remark drew the eyes of the group just as JJ was raising the hatch.

“Sorry, everybody. I mean, thanks, all of you.”

And then the hatch closed.

“Let me take care of that,” the man said, taking the reins.

Gazing at his profile, Louise said to him, “You seem to be in a better frame of mind.”

“Yeah, for the time being, anyway.”

“It’d be a big help if you could stay that way for another hour.”

“Don’t know what the future holds. It only takes a heartbeat to die.”

“All the same, this is good.”

From where she was riding shotgun, Louise turned her eyes forward. That was the only way a person could go on. What was done was done, whether it was a second or a century ago. It was the future that was always reaching out for them.

About five hundred yards above the surface, a mortally wounded beast-man was beating its wings. A number of its kind had been dispatched to destroy the stagecoach below, but it didn’t know that. Its tiny manufactured brain was occupied solely by a tenacious devotion to the duty it’d been assigned. Presently, it mustered the last of its strength and focused all its ability on one given spot.

II

“You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?” Dorleac asked about thirty minutes after the stagecoach had started again. It was a question that wouldn’t go unsaid.

D didn’t reply. He simply remained sitting in the rear portion of the vehicle.

Not minding at all, Dorleac continued, “I get the feeling I heard Duke Sinistre mention the name D from time to time. He said if there were anyone in the world who could slay him, it would be you.”

The handsome young man’s expression dripped with infatuation. His tone was thick as honey. It was flattery.

“If we should happen to reach the airfield safely, would you be good enough to accompany us from there to the Capital?”

“What are you, soft in the head?” Harman spat venomously. “Airfield, my ass! We don’t even know if we’ll make it to where the escort brigade’s waiting in Gasburke in one piece or not. If you’ve got time to butter him up, you’d be better off asking your dear old duke to keep his damn paws off the stagecoach.”

“If I could do that, I wouldn’t have suffered such hardships. But I can’t do anything.”

“Years ago, we ran into exactly the same situation.”

Everyone looked at D. They had the feeling the young man’s every action and every word could decide their fate. But why the hoarse voice?

“The stagecoach we were riding in also carried a servant they said had run away from a certain Noble. And the Noble gave chase, too, same as here. Those guarding him had somehow managed to just about reach their destination. That was on account of the Noble wanting his servant back alive. But when he saw that wasn’t gonna be possible, the Noble turned to his last resort. See, his servant had had this atomic bomb implanted in his body.”

“Everyone was vaporized?” the hitherto silent Al murmured timidly. “Still, I’m surprised you managed to survive.”

The hoarse voice replied, “I’m a dhampir.”

Claire stopped dead, a liquor bottle still stuck in her mouth. Everyone else looked like the hearts had just been plucked from their chests, too.

Suddenly Dorleac laughed so hard he almost bent over backward.

“What a world! You’re a Hunter, you say? And you prey on the Nobility? You, a man with Noble blood in your veins? People, help me out here. You’re in far more danger from our attractive guest than you are from me, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’ll be damned.”

Al’s jaw dropped, and there was a wet pop from the seats. Claire had pulled the bottle out of her mouth.

“I’ve never seen a real live dhampir before!” Harman remarked, his excitement so great it left his eyes bloodshot.

It was safe to say this was a highly unusual reaction. The Noble blood coursing through dhampirs, who were said to be the very best Vampire Hunters, caused such horror in those who knew what they were that almost no one expressed any interest. On occasion, there were some humans who didn’t feel the fear they should toward the Nobility. This was the case where the two deputies were concerned. Either they lived in an area where education about the Nobility was sparse, or they just weren’t quite right in the head.

“Is it true what they say about dhampirs? Do they drink milk mixed with blood from the time they’re little, like you always hear?”

At Al’s question, it was Claire and Harman rather than D that bugged their eyes. They must’ve wanted to shout at him, Shut up, you idiot!

Al waited for an answer with bated breath, but Dorleac picked up where he’d left off. “I’d like to know, too. Which loves a dhampir, their mother or their father? The human one? The Noble? Or, unlike me, are they loved by both?”

Claire was frozen. Was the young captive taunting D?! Didn’t he know the fate that would await him?

Her thoughts were truncated by a voice like a knife.

“You lived with a Noble for a decade. Whether or not that was your fault, that doesn’t change the facts. Nor does what your parents thought of you.”

“That’s still not an answer,” Dorleac said despondently, looking up at D.

He immediately got an answer.

“You don’t seriously want to ask that. You only just now remembered your parents.”

“That’s not—”

“I have better things to do than listen to someone asking questions simply to kill time. Keep quiet.”

“You’re a cold one,” Dorleac replied, and then, still sitting on his stool, he changed his posture. Somewhere, one of his bones creaked. When he looked down at the floor again, something fell from his forehead onto his knee, leaving a small stain. The number of droplets quickly increased. He could try as he liked to stop them, but it would do no good; that’s what his trembling body was telling him. The prisoner had just been taught that while the gorgeous Hunter was quiet, he wasn’t necessarily placid.

Never pry into his affairs again—that thought had been branded into Dorleac’s living flesh.

In D’s mind, a panting sort of voice out of the past continued.

I love Dorleac as if he were my own child. I could not bear to live without him. I sent my “haunt birds” to bring him back, but all save one have been slain. Not only that, but my son and daughters were destroyed as well. D, I have already dispatched one last agent for his recovery. If it should decide it will be unable to bring Dorleac back, the agent will at that point activate an explosive device implanted in its body, vaporizing everything in a six-mile radius. It’s an antiproton bomb. And it cannot be stopped now. Out of fear that I might change my mind, I equipped it with an absolute trigger system. The only thing that can halt it is Dorleac’s safe return.

However, I would hardly call this perfect. D, you may laugh at me and call me pathetic if you like. You see, I changed my mind. And not ten minutes after sending off my final agent. I wish to see Dorleac alive once again. Would you not dispose of the retrieval agent for me?

With the passing of time, the atmosphere in the stagecoach became something beyond any of the passengers’ expectations.

Long ago, Al had done some work transporting monsters during the winter, when there was no farming to do. Harman had once stayed up a whole night watching a victim of the Nobility who was locked up. Claire’s case had been even worse, with a kind of fire dragon known as a salamander hanging around all night outside the cheap hotel where she was staying. Each of them had experienced the chills, reasonless anxieties, and fits of sweating that resulted when humans or animals were exposed to the evil emanating from monsters. In Harman’s case, one of the townsfolk whowas with them became deranged, and since he was spraying aflame thrower everywhere, another of the town’s residents had to bayonet him.

Those who belonged to another world couldn’t help but upset the physical and mental balance in humans. But the young man known as D was different. He was weird, and unsettling. His beauty in particular was beyond the pale. It was not of this world. And yet, as he rocked along in the stagecoach with them, they could feel a strange sense of relief and quiet seeping in through their pores to course through their bodies with their blood flow. At some point, everyone but D had fallen into a comfortable sleep.

D alone was another matter. His senses were superhuman, or perhaps inhuman, and the five of them—or a sixth, or a seventh—could see figures invisible to others, detect the odorless, and hear the silent. Naturally, that was the case while awake, but even when shrouded in the clouds of sleep it was unchanged. His senses were telling him that at present, he was in a dream.

“Have you awakened?” Dorleac asked him. “From your perspective, dreams are something you have, something you awaken from. But for me, dreams are the true reality—and as a result, when dreaming, you are awake.”

“One who turns dreams into a battlefield—you’re Sinistre’s final retrieval unit,” D said, finding this neither strange nor frightening. Land, sea, or air—this young man had fought his way through every conceivable arena, and this dream was simply another battlefield.

“Precisely. I have been dubbed LUI.”

Dorleac stood up and walked right through the bars. For either he or the bars were a dream. Or perhaps both.

III

“Even the great D cannot defeat me in this world. In my world, you, too, must comply with its rules. As a mere part of the dream.”

“You’re free to inhabit that man and escape,” said the Hunter. “But he has to awaken from the dream at some point. If he doesn’t, Duke Sinistre won’t be happy.”

“Dream or reality—when asked to choose, everyone will choose the dream. No more than a short slumber in your world is an eternity in dreams.”

As soon as D got up, he bounded. Through the blade that split Dorleac’s head, the Hunter certainly felt the skull and brain being cleaved.

Dorleac grinned at him with an utterly unblemished face.

The Hunter’s sword swept out so naturally and swiftly and from such an angle it seemed as if it’d never returned, mowing through the man’s neck. His head went flying. D was unable to interrupt its path.

Claire was sleeping in her seat, and the head sank its teeth into her ample chest, biting down with vicious strength and tearing off chunks. The agonized Claire shuddered from head to toe, then died.

“This is a dream, of course,” Dorleac laughed. His face was the same as always, yet he also looked like another man. “If I allow you to return to reality, she will awaken exhausted. However, her life will be hell, meeting a painful death every time she dreams. And you can do nothing to stop it. Or to prevent your own death.”

While D could see that Dorleac’s head was flying straight at him, he was unable to move. The disembodied head sank its fangs into the nape of D’s neck and sucked his blood like a desert traveler gorging on water at an oasis. Against a backdrop of fresh blood, D grew pale and staggered, while the severed head of Dorleac/the retrieval unit LUI smiled pleasantly at him.

“D, I will not kill you. Nor shall I allow you to awaken. For the rest of time, you will live here in my dream world to be endlessly drained of blood.”

“That might actually be the best for him,” said a hoarse voice that echoed through the stagecoach.

Astonished, Dorleac’s head returned to his body.

“And who are you?”

Before the man had even finished the question, he grabbed his throat and started coughing. Air and spit flew from him—along with fresh blood.

“What . . . what is this? In my world . . . everything in the universe . . . is supposed to obey my rules. Oh, D . . . I shall come for you again!”

As soon as he awoke, D got to his feet and, after confirming that Dorleac was still in his cage, he went over to Claire’s seat.

“What . . . do you want?” the waking woman asked dolefully, or rather, exhaustedly, but there wasn’t a mark on her chest. Still, when she looked at D, her cheeks flushed and she said, “I had the strangest dream . . . Oh, I’m still half-asleep . . . Stay back . . . or you might catch my dreams.”

“What sort of dream was it?”

“I was in this seat . . . and all of a sudden . . . this severed head flies over . . . And it bit into my tits . . . and . . . so—oh, that’s right!”

Claire stood up forcefully. Turning toward the back, she pointed at the cage.

“It was that jerk’s head! And it got cut off—by you!”

Her other hand pointed at D.

D’s left hand pressed against her chest.

“Oh my god, what’s the big idea?!” Claire exclaimed, and she was just about to knock it away, but she couldn’t move.

The hand slowly rose to the nape of her neck.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a dream story,” said a hoarse voice that made Claire bug her eyes.

“Hey, what did you just check? And that voice just now—what was that?”

Ignoring Claire as she followed after him, D headed over to the iron cage.

Dorleac didn’t move. He didn’t even try to look at D. However, there could be no doubting that he was awake. His body was shaking. Undoubtedly he, too, had been visited by nightmares.

“Did you leave the cage?” D asked.

After a few seconds had passed, Dorleac mumbled, “What are you talking about?”

“Did you leave the cage?”

Dorleac nodded dejectedly. “I got out. But that wasn’t me.”

Al, who’d just gotten up from the floor, pointed his gun at Dorleac.

“It’s the duke. He’s still after me . . . Oh, why me? I’ll never be free.”

“He hasn’t given up yet,” D stated coldly. “When he knows he can’t have you back, it seems everything within a six-mile radius of you will be vaporized.”

“What?!”

Al stared at D in amazement, and Harman pointed his stake launcher at Dorleac.

“Kid, try anything funny and I’ll shoot you dead!”

“Stop it. Kill him, and we’ll all be vaporized!” Al exclaimed, swinging the wide barrel of his gun around to face Harman.

“I know. I was just trying to scare him.”

“What’s all this talk about getting out of the cage?” Claire asked, having made her way to the back. She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Now I remember,” she said. “You were in my dream, too.”

“Our enemy lives in a world of dreams. It seems he has the power to draw us there.”

“Is that supposed to mean we’re having the same dream he is?”

“That’s right,” said D.

“So, if he does that—what then?” Despite the fact Claire herself knew the answer, her question was rather ambiguous. “A dream is a dream, right? So even if he escapes that cage in his dream, it shouldn’t help him any in the real world. A dream is just a dream.”

Claire put her hand against her chest and said, “My God . . . After getting killed like that . . . I can remember how it felt even now. I thought I’d die—well, actually I did die. And then I woke up. But if I had to go through that again . . . It hurt so bad. You’ve got to do something.” Her face a blank sheet of shock spattered with the inks of horror and fear, she looked first to D, then shifted to Al, and finally Harman. “It’ll happen again . . . to you . . . and to you. I’ll be damned if I’ll be dragged into a dream and murdered there. So, what are we supposed to do? How can we save ourselves? Somebody, save me. You think I can keep from going to sleep? Do you?”

“Do something, you little bastard!”

The eardrums of all present were savagely rocked by the sound of iron striking iron. Harman had banged the cage with the business end of the stake launcher.

Dorleac shrieked and curled up in a ball.

“Knock it off,” Al said, grabbing the end of the weapon when the blacksmith raised it for a second blow. “It ain’t his fault. If he knew that trick, he’d have used it long before now.”

“Yeah, but—” Harman began, his face contorting.

Just then, Louise came down. She’d heard the clang againstthe cage.

D explained the situation.

“This is a hell of a mess,” the sheriff said, the words escaping her like a squeak, but she managed to keep her cool. “So, it can’t work this spell on us if we’re awake? Or does it all depend on what the enemy wants?”

“I wasn’t asleep, but I went into its world.”

“In that case—nothing we do will help,” the sheriff said, bringing her fist up to her lips.

D said to her, “That’s true for us, but we don’t know if the same goes for the enemy.”

“Huh?”

The sheriff’s expression made it plain she had no idea what the Hunter was driving at.

“What I mean is, it isn’t necessarily dreaming all the time. People sleep at different times.”

“Oh, right. Meaning we’d be okay while the enemy was awake, eh? Only, we have no way of knowing when that is, do we?”

“We’ll keep an eye on each other. And if anyone falls asleep, we’ll bind them hand and foot.”

“If we do that, our manpower will just keep shrinking. That’s exactly what the enemy wants!”

“No, it’s the reverse. Its first goal is to eliminate me,” D told her. “To do that, the best plan of attack is for it to get control of one of you, if not all of you, and look for an opening.”

“But—”

“If we can wait until tomorrow morning, the escort brigade in Gasburke will come out to find us. We just need to be patient until then.”

“But this creep could stick with us forever. Humans need to sleep—and so do you!”

“I’ll have to find our enemy before then.”

“You . . . you could do that?”

In lieu of an answer, D started down the aisle toward the front of the vehicle. His stride was so firm and stately while at the same time elegant that it took everyone’s breath away.

It was at that instant that the sheriff, Louise, noticed something. The stagecoach was rapidly picking up speed.

“D—go check on JJ!” she shouted, and the sheriff herself was heading down the aisle when her body lurched to one side.

The stagecoach was racing out of control!

D went up to the driver’s seat. His movements were free from hesitation. No matter how bad the jolting, it never upset the young man’s sense of equilibrium in the slightest.

He could immediately tell that JJ, slumped backward, was sleeping. Quickly shifting the man over to the shotgun seat and taking his place in the driver’s seat, D put his left hand against JJ’s brow.

“How is he?”

“Not good,” the hoarse voice responded. “The final retrieval unit is powered by galactic motion. That’s a wee bit beyond my reach.”

Immediately taking his left hand away, D asked, “What’s its influence on reality?”

“At the moment, there’s none. But its energy is nearly infinite. It could probably engineer something.”

The Hunter’s right hand was working the reins, and the horses were slowing from their mad gallop.

“But this is no time to worry about that. Right now, the enemy’s probably wringing out info on how to take care of you. Who knows what a creature from another world’s thinking? There’s no telling what kind of play it’ll make for you. Better be—”

The hoarse voice flew through the air.

Thrown from the driver’s seat and leaving himself to the mercy of the shock waves, D could see exactly what must’ve happened. The horses had suddenly fallen asleep. Plowing into their fallen bodies, the vehicle flipped violently. Rain whipped wildly, and mud went flying. The stagecoach flipped a second time, and then a third—and though the plight of the vehicle alone looked like the end of the world, the team of six cyborg horses was dragged along, still harnessed to it and whipped around in a nightmarish scene that beggared description. And through the chaos, a figure in black sailed.

As soon as he landed, D broke into a run. The vehicle came crashing down like a black tsunami, but the six horses had fallen first.

A stark light flashed. Cutting through the straps that bound the horses to the stagecoach as if they were paper, D dodged the falling animals and took an easy step forward, where he put his left hand against the bottom of the falling stagecoach.

Supporting several tons, D’s hitherto straight left arm bent like a spring. However, it was a spring made of steel. The spot where his left hand made contact maintained what might’ve been the best balance in the universe, stopping the stagecoach. With just one hand, D righted the vehicle before getting out of the way.