The River of No Return by Bee Ridgway (best novels of all time txt) 📕

gun raised, and how in the moment of the gun’s explosion the two of them had disappeared into nothingness, the bullet singing off into the trees. How Nick had dragged Eamon’s corpse off the road and how then, unable to both drive the coach and watch over Julia, he had settled down to wait for the Ofan, or for the Guild, or for Mibbs to return.

“And you are sure it was Mibbs?” Penture asked.

“Absolutely.” Nick cocked his head at Leo. “Ask him if he believes me. He’s met him.”

“Yep,” Leo said. “That sounds like the guy who tried to suck my soul out of my eyeballs in Chile. Grade A asshole.”

“You met him in Chile, too?” Penture bent a frown on Nick. “You didn’t tell us that when you were telling us about Mibbs.”

“No,” Nick said. “Why should I? You were the Alderman of the Guild and Leo was a renegade. Did you think I wanted you on his trail?” Nick fought the urge to look at Leo, to see how he took the news that Nick had protected him.

Penture’s frown deepened. “And you’re sure Jemison is a Natural?”

“I’m fairly certain. He didn’t know about time travel until I told him.” Nick held up a hand. “And before you say anything about that, Penture, I told him because I needed his help to find Julia. And because I’m not abiding by Guild rules anymore.”

“Your choice to tell Jemison was your own, and I’m sure you had good reason. I don’t care about that. I care about Mibbs, and how it came to be that he could drag a Natural away with him into the River of Time. That should be entirely impossible.”

“He can do things we can’t,” Nick said. “Like I told you. Pushing his feelings into other people’s heads. Controlling despair somehow.”

Penture nodded, his green eyes narrowing. “Interesting. Although perhaps Jemison was tricking you. Perhaps he does have the talent.”

“Tricking me like you tricked me, you mean? Pretending to be one thing when you’re another? Manipulating my ignorance and my pride? Maybe,” Nick said. “But I doubt it. I know Jemison well. He is enigmatic, to be sure, but . . .” He let his eyes travel up and down Penture’s body. “He isn’t a liar.”

The Frenchman’s green eyes flickered. “And neither am I, Nick Davenant. You must lay down this petty dislike of me if we are to work together.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Leo said. “Calm down, both of you. Mibbs stole a Natural. Mibbs can invade people’s feelings. He’s probably from over the Pale, and he wants Julia so badly that he’s been trailing her all over the world and all up and down the river. That is all extremely scary, in case you hadn’t quite let it sink in. Now what the fuck, I politely ask, are we going to do about it?”

Penture stared at Leo for a moment, and then a gorgeous grin broke across his face. “We are going to run,” he said, “and we are going to hide.”

“Thank God,” Leo said. “Let’s get on with it.”

Penture laughed and turned to Nick. “Come now, Davenant. Forgive me. Trust me. Take my hand.” He held his right hand out and Nick had to revise his casting yet again. Not Cary Grant; George Clooney.

Nick sighed. “Fine.” He shook the Frenchman’s hand with distaste. “But before we beat our craven retreat, what should we do with Eamon?”

Together they traipsed behind the hedgerow and stood over Eamon’s corpse.

“He’s ugly,” Leo said.

“Well, he is dead,” Nick said. “It tends to mar the looks.”

Leo laughed, but Penture held up a hand for silence. His eyes were closed. “The fifteenth century . . . fourteen twenty-eight,” he said, opening his eyes.

“Right,” Leo said. “You bring us there. I’ll take the shoulders, you take the feet.”

Penture bent and lifted Eamon by the ankles.

Leo heaved Eamon up under the shoulders, the head lolling, the ghastly face smudged with blood and dirt. “Hang tight. Back in two seconds.” And before Nick could blink the two men and the corpse had disappeared. More than two seconds passed before they returned, but in well under a minute they were back again, and Leo was holding a whole roast goose: “Breakfast!”

* * *

Julia opened her eyes. She lay in blessed shadow. It was spattered with points of light. Out beyond the shadow was a terrible brightness. Julia closed her eyes again quickly. The air smelled of hay and grain and faintly, underneath it all, she could detect the slightly sour, slightly feathery scent of chickens. In fact, she could hear chickens gossiping not far away. Was she in a barn? She opened her eyes a crack and let them adjust. She was in a barn—but what a barn. It was vast, like a cathedral. Built of massive stones, with chinks like arrow slits here and there in the walls, through which the sun was filtering in, casting rectangles of light on the floor and the opposite wall. The roof was wooden and constructed of massive, ancient beams. The barn must be hundreds of years old. She lay on a pile of hay toward the back of the huge space. Before her, the darkness dissolved into the bright light, as if an entire wall were missing. A few chickens were scratching there in the brightness.

Three figures appeared in the light, sending the chickens squawking away into the shadows. Three men, silhouetted for an instant at the boundary between dark and light. They walked into the shadowy part of the barn, gaining dimension as they came. Should she be afraid? Somehow she wasn’t.

Two of the men stopped a few feet away, but one of them came forward, and when he was close she could see that he was the nice man from the coach. He knelt down next to her. He smiled, and she felt herself smiling back. She loved him. She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, but he grabbed her hand before she could. “Thank God you’re all right.”

It was