Honeymoon: 3/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
III
They arrived back at the lodge an hour later. Lyn and Alan inquired as to the room of Mr. Dupres and were told that he'd been expecting them. He was waiting for them in the coffee shop, with his son.
Lyn checked the laser rifle at the desk and glanced at Alan. He shrugged. "You can be sure young Teddy's already told his version of the story. Come on. Let's go take our medicine."
They entered the coffee shop. Sure enough, father and son were seated in a far corner engaged in earnest conversation. Mr. Dupres glanced up as they appeared, rose to his feet and gestured to them. Alan and Lyn crossed the room to him.
"Please sit down." The man held a chair courteously for Lyn, then sat down as Alan took the seat beside her. Young Teddy was staring at the table, his expression sullen.
"Coffee?" Dupres inquired, lifting the pot from the table. Lyn and Alan nodded and he poured for them.
"I understand there's been some trouble." Dupres eyes met Alan's searchingly. Scanning him, Alan saw that Teddy had, indeed, already told his version of the story, but his father, who knew his son well, had taken the tale with a fat grain of salt.
"Some," Alan agreed noncommittally.
"My son says you attacked him using some kind of martial arts and held him while your wife took his rifle. He says he was annoyed that he'd just missed a prime fayebuck specimen that he'd been stalking for an hour, and that he swore. You took his displeasure personally and attacked him." He paused, glancing at Teddy. The boy raised defiant eyes.
"It's true, Dad!"
Mr. Dupres didn't glance at his son. "I'm interested to hear your version of the story, Mr. Woodruff."
Alan took a sip of coffee and glanced at young Teddy. The boy met his gaze angrily, but didn't speak. Alan smiled gently.
"I think you omitted a few details, didn't you, Teddy?"
The boy made an obscene gesture at him. Dupres didn't appear to notice. "What happened out there, Mr. Woodruff?"
Briefly Alan told him. Dupres listened in silence. Teddy glared at him and made the gesture again.
When Alan had finished, Dupres glanced at his son. "Were you on the hiking trails, Teddy?"
"I didn't realize I was, father! I was so engrossed in the hunt!"
"That's no excuse. I think you owe Mr. and Mrs. Woodruff an apology."
Teddy's face went scarlet. "He hit me! I didn't do anything! Why should I apologize to him?"
"You were in the wrong, and you will apologize."
The boy jumped to his feet with a blistering oath. Faces turned toward them -- the honeymooners in an adjoining booth, the lone man who had arrived with them yesterday, their mouths open in surprise.
"Sit down!"
Teddy screamed another oath, kicked his chair aside and fled from the room. Dupres started after him, then stopped and turned back to Alan and Lyn.
"I'm very sorry. Please accept my apologies." Anger and mortification radiated from the man. "I'll take care of it, believe me. I'm afraid it's my fault. Since my wife died, I've indulged him too much. Please excuse me."
Then he was gone. Alan met Lyn's eyes and drank the remainder of his coffee. Lyn smothered a laugh. "Well, well, you meet all kinds, don't you?"
The waitress appeared beside them. She glanced curiously after the departed guests. "Can I get you folks anything?"
Alan glanced at the chronometer on the wall. It was nearly 1600. Suppertime seemed far away, and he was hungry. "Yes, please. I'll have a smoked marshhopper sandwich with my coffee."
"Make it two," Lyn said.
"Certainly ma'am." The lady glanced curiously at the exit. "Uh, is everything all right?"
"A little misunderstanding with the boy," Alan told her. "It'll be okay."
"I see." The waitress departed.
Alan leaned back, sipping his coffee. "Watch out for young Teddy, Lyn. If I read the signs right, he's the kind of kid who'll do something stupid for revenge."
She nodded soberly. "Sort of like I was when you first met me."
Alan took her hand, smiling. "You were spoiled and inexperienced, but you weren't like him. Besides, I think you're a lot better looking."
"I hope so!" her face relaxed into a smile.
Miss Pick entered the room, accompanied by the lodge manager. They glanced around, then went over and spoke to the honeymooning couple. Alan frowned.
"The girls are still missing."
The waitress set their sandwiches before them and departed. Alan took a bite, watching as the governess and the manager went over to the solitary man, questioned him briefly, then came over to their booth.
Miss Pick was looking very worried. The manager bent forward and spoke in a low voice.
"Mr. and Mrs. Woodruff, the two Hawke children are still missing. Miss Pick says she spoke to you earlier and you said you saw them on the west ski slope."
"Yes," said Alan.
"Both of them?"
Alan nodded. "But that was before noon -- in fact it must have been around ten or eleven."
"Were they still there when you left?"
Alan tried to think back, but Lyn broke in at once. "I saw them on the slopes when we were on the lift. Megan was wearing a bright red ski suit, and Maggie's was hot pink. I'm sure it was them."
"What time was that?"
"It must have been close to noon."
"Did you see them after that?"
"No. We came back to the lodge to have lunch."
Miss Pick spoke suddenly. "I saw you leaving the coffee shop at 1410. That must have been a long lunch."
Alan felt a flash of anger at her faintly accusing tone. "We went to our room first," he said levelly.
"Oh." Miss Pick sniffed. "I see."
Alan felt himself flush and quelled a hot retort. Lyn's knee nudged him gently under the table and she spoke softly. "So, were we the last ones to see the girls?"
"Apparently so," the manager said. "Can you tell me who else was on the ski slopes with you?"
Again Alan had to think back. "The Arcturians, Ginnar and Gonnar. We spoke to them briefly. The Procyon males were there, too, I think, weren't they Lyn?"
She nodded. "But I didn't see the female."
"And the Arcturians and the Procyons were the only ones?"
"Yes." Alan hesitated and then shrugged. "On our walk this afternoon we met the young Mr. Dupres. He was hunting illegally on the trails, and took a shot at us."
The manager's eyebrows went up, and for an instant he looked acutely uncomfortable. "Oh dear," he murmured. "What action have you taken?"
"We spoke to his father."
"I...see. And I'm the first person you've mentioned this to...besides his father, that is?"
"Yes." Alan extended a probe. As expected, there had been trouble with Teddy before -- many times, in fact, but he and his father were regulars here, and always were lavish in the amount of money spent as were their gifts to the establishment during the off season when things were sometimes pretty tight. He didn't want to lose their business, but, on the other hand, if a paying customer of the lodge had been injured by that young idiot, retribution might well fall upon the management of the lodge. And to make things even more interesting, that stinking Raghiki had to be here right now, too....
Lyn was speaking. "You don't need to say anying about this if you don't want to. The boy's father promised us he'd take care of it."
Miss Pick broke in. "He'd damn well better say something about it! If he shot at you, he may have shot at my girls, too, and maybe he didn't miss that time!"
Alan and Lyn were silent. The manager looked flustered. "Perhaps...perhaps I had better question the boy."
"Good luck," Alan said dryly.
"Yes...yes, thank you." The man spoke to the governess. "I'll dispatch every extra man I have to look for your girls, Miss Pick, and I'll question the boy, myself."
"We mentioned that they were missing to him," Alan said. "He didn't say that he'd seen them -- but then, he was pretty angry with us. He wouldn't have volunteered any information, I'm sure."
"I'll talk to him," the manager repeated.
"I'll go with you," the governess informed him.
"Oh, Miss Pick, I really think...."
"I'm sorry if it upsets a good customer of yours," the woman stated flatly, "but the lives of my girls are more important than all the lodges on Trachum. I'm going."
The manager harrumphed. "Very well, Miss Pick, but please allow me to do the talking. Young Teddy can be very volatile...."
They moved away from the booth, still talking together in low voices. Lyn's eyes met Alan's and her voice spoke in his mind. *That governess, I don't trust her.*
*Neither do I. That shielding of hers...and that way she has of picking thoughts from people's minds. I'd swear she's a psychic.*
*She's too big.* Lyn's return thought was dubious. *Isn't she?*
Terran psychics were well known for their almost universal diminutive size. Alan watched the governess's dumpy figure vanish out the door and slowly chewed the last of his sandwich. *I don't know. She's short -- just kind of thickly built, like Tyler Brown. He's pretty good sized for a psychic -- and he has natural shielding. Maybe the two traits just tend to run together.*
Lyn finished her sandwich. *But I don't think Miss Pick's shielding is natural. Plus, she has absolutely no empathy. Look at the way she spoke to the manager about the Dupres boy.*
*Well, don't you think a psychic without empathy would be the type the Jils would pick?* Alan met her gaze steadily. *I mean, if they did stoop to using Terran psychic agents?*
Lyn nodded slowly. *You're right. They would.*
*And wouldn't they also choose one who's larger than most -- that is, if they could find one.*
*I suppose they would.* Lyn hesitated, frowning slightly. *Still, I like Miss Pick -- for all her bluntness and her old-maidish ways. Don't you?*
Alan searched the impressions he had received of the governess. *I'm not sure if I like her or not,* he said at last. *She has a sharp tongue. She practically accused us of having something to do with the girl's disappearance.*
Lyn smiled. *No she didn't. She's just very observant. She noticed the time discrepancy, and with her particular orientation, she didn't think of...anything romantic causing a delay. Once we told her, she accepted it without question.*
Alan still wasn't convinced. Lyn's empathic abilities were less keen than his own, and as a result she tended to be more logical than he in judging characters. Alan relied on gut instinct, but unfortunately both methods could be affected by other factors.
*How about Teddy and his dad?* Lyn asked suddenly. *In spite of their obvious human faults, do you like them?*
*Teddy's a monster,* Alan said promptly.
*You wouldn't like him even if what happened on our walk hadn't happened?*
*I can't stand people who think money can buy them out of any trouble. Young Teddy reminds me of Lowen Smiley. Remember him?*
*Who could forget?* Lowen Smiley was a prominent political figure who used his handsome face and natural charm to his advantage. Ten years ago he had been drunk and had run his aircar into a play area on Terra. A little boy had been killed and several children hurt. Senator Smiley, it emerged, had tried to buy the silence of those children's parents with huge amounts of money, and when it appeared that wasn't going to work, had used his political influence to indirectly threaten the three families involved if they caused trouble. The scandal had been awesome, and during his exposure other facts emerged -- three previous drunken-driving incidents, one of which had resulted in permanent disability to the other driver and a huge payoff to keep the victim quiet.
The snow was coming down more heavily, and Alan could see it whirling in now more frequent gusts of wind. He watched it uneasily as he sipped his coffee. Only about two hours of light left. If the girls were lost out there tonight, they would be dead unless they could find some kind of shelter.
Lyn touched his hand and leaned forward. "You could trace them, couldn't you?"
He shook his head. "Without Mark or Kevin here, I'll need something personal -- a lock of hair, or some article of sentimental value."
"Well?" Lyn's hand squeezed his. "No one'll be in their room right now. Let's go get something."
Alan nodded, dropping credits on the table. "Let's hurry."
They went out and over to the lift. The Raghiki stalked across the lobby toward them, laser rifle in hand, and stood silently beside them as they awaited the lifts arrival. Alan stole a glance at the creature. It glared straight ahead, not acknowledging his presence. Alan extended a light probe, and winced a little at the primitive emotions he saw. The Raghiki was an easy read, though -- easier than most Terrans. Irritation and anger were foremost in his mind. He had missed a prime kill today because of that idiot Procyon female. His first impulse had been to shoot her when she had frightened his prey, and he had barely restrained himself. If he hurt one of these lower creatures, he wouldn't be welcome at this extremely desirable lodge again.
Nothing about the girls, though. The lift opened and they entered together. The Raghiki stared straight ahead. Alan cleared his throat.
"Hello," he said. "How was the hunting?"
The creature's eyes flicked in his direction. It made a low rumbling sound, deep in its throat.
Usually empaths could get through to anyone or anything that was of normal intelligence. Alan tried again. "See any fayebucks? We saw a beautiful male on our walk."
Another rumble. The lift slid to a stop and the doors opened. The Raghiki stalked out ahead of them down the hallway.
Lyn smothered a laugh. Alan glanced at her and shrugged. "Room eight, wasn't it?"
"I believe so." Together they went down the hallway past their own suite and located the room belonging to the psychic girls and their governess.
No one was in sight. Alan went up to the door while Lyn scanned for approaching presences. The door was locked, of course, but the locks were not psychic proof. Why should they be? No Jilectans stayed at this lodge, and psychic-proof locks were expensive. On Jil dominated worlds a special permit had to be obtained before purchasing them.
Alan located the locking mechanism in his mind and applied pressure. It took a little more effort than he was accustomed to. Usually one of his living power packs was beside him when he was performing such feats. But he was quite powerful enough to open locks on his own. It took only a moment. Then the mechanism clicked back.
Carefully Alan slid the door open and stepped in, Lyn beside him. They locked the door from the inside and turned to survey the room.
Everything was in order, the beds smooth, the carpet dusted. Alan went quickly over to the dressers, examining them for personal possessions. A photograph of their parents -- a handsome couple clad in evening dress, the woman's dark hair heaped high on her head, the man dressed in suit and neck cloth, his hair stylishly combed, the same shade as that of his two daughters, and a neat red mustache, curled slightly on the ends. No sentimental value, however. Alan opened the top drawer, rummaging through silky underclothing. Nothing.
"Alan," Lyn said.
He went to her. She was holding up a ring -- a small gold band adorned with a flashy red crystal heart. "I think it's Megan's What do you think?"
He took it from her. Some sentimental value here -- a gift from a youthful admirer. An expensive, jeweled wrist chronometer lay on the bedside table, as well as a small framed photograph of an infant. Alan picked up both articles briefly and set them down again. "The ring'll do. Let's go."
They started toward the door, and at that instant Alan felt the flash of warning. The governess! Shielded as she was, they hadn't sensed her approach. They moved simultaneously, rolling beneath the girl's beds. Alan lay rigid, aware of Lyn's mind within his, as the door slid open and Miss Pick's footsteps sounded on the carpet without.
She creaked past the bed, under which he lay, and went over to the dresser. He heard her talking softly to herself -- poetry, he thought. She was quoting poetry to herself. He even recognized the verse.
"Her beams be-mocked
the sultry mien,
Like April hoarfrost spread
But where the ship's
huge shadow lay
The charmed water burnt away.
A still and awful red....
The rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Coleridge. Somehow Alan hadn't thought of Miss Pick as the type who would appreciate the romantic poets. He lay still as the bed above him creaked; Miss Pick was sitting on it. He swallowed, waiting. Something clinked -- the watch, he realized. She had picked it up. Would she miss the ring? Would she get down on her hands and knees to search for it?
"Within the shadow of the ship
I watched with the water snakes.
They moved in paths of shining white
And when they reared the elvish light
Fell off in hoary flakes...."
The watch clinked again and the bedsprings creaked. Miss Pick's footsteps crossed the carpet and entered the bathroom. The door closed.
Alan and Lyn moved together, rolling silently from beneath the beds and making for the door. It slid open. They went out, and, as it clicked shut behind them once more, Alan had the impression that the bathroom door had opened once again.
They hurried down the hallway. Behind them, the door opened again and Miss Pick stepped out.
Alan turned, feeling the sweat start out on his face. The governess' eyes were unreadable.
"Hello," Lyn said, her voice quivering only slightly. "Any news?"
She shook her head. "I'm going out myself now. It'll be dark soon." Her eyes surveyed them inscrutably.
"We're going to look, too," Lyn said. She smiled reassuringly. "They're probably just hiding to get back at you."
She came toward them, her small, dark eyes moving from Lyn to Alan, then back again. She shook her head. "No, I don't think so -- not anymore. I did at first, but not now. Those kids are spoiled and sometimes silly, but they aren't mean. They wouldn't keep me worrying like this on purpose."
Alan swallowed. "You think they've been hurt?"
"Possibly. Or they might be lost, though I doubt it. They're too familiar with this area. We've been here before. If they’re lost, they know enough to find shelter and then stay put. They might even be able to get a fire going. Megan's good at getting fires to start. No, what really worries me is that they might have been kidnapped. Their father's quite wealthy, you know."
Alan could think of other, even less pleasant reasons that the girls might have been taken. The Jils paid well for the capture of psychics. Lyn patted the governess on the shoulder. "We'll find them."
The governess gripped her hand. "I know," she said. "Please hurry."
Alan and Lyn headed for the lift. Alan could feel her watching them until the doors closed.
Alan took a deep breath. "Lord! She acts like she knows who we are!"
"She couldn't!" Lyn surveyed Alan carefully. "Your make-up's holding perfectly! I wouldn't recognize you, if I couldn't feel your mind."
"I know. Yours is fine, too. But...."
"I know. There's something odd about Miss Pick. She's smarter than she looks, that's for sure."
The lift slid to a stop and they disembarked. Mr. Dupres and his son were waiting.
"Mr. Woodruff." The older man put up a hand, stopping them. "My son has something he wants to say to you."
Teddy was staring at the carpet. He cleared his throat. "Uh...I'm sorry, Mr. Woodruff...Mrs. Woodruff. I was wrong and very rude. Please forgive me."
Alan was floored at the boy's change in attitude. The emotions radiating from him were still those of rebellion, but the words were certainly a change, as well as the attitude. Dad must really have come across here. Too bad he hadn't done it fifteen years ago.
"We forgive you," Lyn said quickly. "Just please be careful after this."
"I will." The boy's face was scarlet, but his voice remained very humble. "It won't happen again."
Fear of his father was motivating the apology. Alan could see that easily. Still, the best thing to do now would be to let the matter pass. There were more important things at stake. He spoke to the boy's father.
"We checked the rifle at the desk. I'm sure you can re-claim it there."
"Teddy won't be hunting for awhile," Dupres said. "Come on, son. Let's go help look for those little girls."
Alan waited until they had gone, then glanced at Lyn and shrugged. The ring against his palm tingled slightly in warning. Little Megan was in trouble, that was certain, but the signals were oddly muted -- weak, as though she were some distance off. "Let's go."
They went out into the snow. The light was dimming, the air biting cold. The pull was to the north, and he followed it, Lyn beside him. The pull gradually grew stronger, but the fear from it had faded out. Megan was unconscious.
He plunged clumsily through the calf-deep stuff. Lyn plowed after him, knee-deep in the snow. They were going uphill into the hunting preserves. He knew Lyn was scanning for other beings as he traced. It would be very inconvenient to run into a too-eager hunter now.
Half an hour passed and they were panting. The wind increased, whirling clouds of stinging snow into their faces. The pull was still there, but fading. Megan was dying.
Fifteen minutes later they found her, huddled against a cliff wall, nearly covered in snow. Together they pulled her out, shaking her, both of them very aware how close to death she was. She made no response as they shouted her name. Alan looked frantically around. There was no sign of her sister.
"We've got to warm her up!" Lyn's voice was shrill with fear. "She's hypothermic! What'll we do?"
Alan unsealed his coat, removed it, and then pulled off his sweater and shirt, feeling the stinging bite of the snow and wind on his naked skin. "Take off her parka!" he shouted. "Then put her on my back and put my coat around us both! It ought to fit! It's big on me."
Lyn obeyed. She yanked off the girl's parka and lifted her to Alan's back so that the heat of his body would reach her. She was tiny, as most psychics were, but he knew that she would feel as big as the Raghiki before they got back to the lodge. He slipped the sweater over both of them, and then the parka. Lyn sealed it for him. The material was stretchy, but it still barely fit. The girl's body was cold against his back, limp and unresponsive.
Lyn started ahead of him, breaking a path for him through the snow. He followed, holding the girl beneath her knees. Her breathing was slow and shallow and his psychic senses picked up her heartbeat -- barely thirty per minute. Her mind flickered with subdued psychic energy, but no thoughts reached him. Where was her sister?
The trip back seemed agonizingly long. Megan groaned once and muttered her sister's name before becoming still again. At last the lodge came into view and they staggered up the steps. Figures converged on them and they were ushered inside, breathless and stumbling with exhaustion.
"Megan!" It was the governess. "You found her! Where's Maggie?"
Lyn was unsealing the parka. Alan pulled it off and supported the girl's still limp body as the garment came away. The manager was there, he saw, as well as three porters and most of the lodge customers. They lifted Megan down and laid her on the sofa nearest the fire.
"Where did you find her?" the lodge manager demanded. "André, get Dr. Avon!"
The young man ran to obey. Someone handed Alan a cup of steaming cocoa. He clutched it clumsily, his hands trembling.
"On the north-east slope," Lyn said. "Against a cliff face."
Someone lifted Megan and bore her away. The manager bent over Alan and wrapped a blanket around him. Two employees assisted him to his feet by and helped him over to a chair beside the big fireplace.
"There was no sign of Maggie," Lyn said. "We looked, but there was no time for a long search. Megan was nearly dead. We had to get her back."
"Can you show us where you found her?" the manager asked.
"Yes." Lyn stood up. "Alan, you rest. I'll take them back."
"Have a crawler brought," the manager ordered. "Mike, André, you go with the young lady. Hurry."
Lyn departed with her escort. Alan drank the rest of his cocoa and shook his head. Water spattered in all directions and a few drops hissed into the fire. He looked around.
Brandy McFaye was there, watching him, along with Miss Pick, the Procyon female and young Teddy, who stood at a distance, an expression of unconcealed hatred on his countenance. The young waitress, who had told Lyn and him about the storm earlier, emerged from the coffee shop, another steaming mug in her hand. She crossed the lobby, presented him with it, and took the empty one.
"Thanks," Alan chattered. He still felt half frozen, but feeling was returning to his arms and legs.
Miss Pick sat beside him on the sofa. "You looked for Maggie?"
"She wasn't there," Alan said. The woman's gaze made him uneasy. He could see nothing beyond her shielding, but her eyes seemed to speak in themselves. He wished he could understand them. Abruptly she stood up and headed for the infirmary.
The doctor appeared. "Mr. Woodruff?"
"Yes? How is she?"
"Hypothermia and severe frostbite. She'll recover."
"That's good."
"Yes. You said you found her beside a cliff?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure she hadn't fallen from that cliff?"
"What? I don't think so. Why?"
"Because she has other injuries -- injuries that have no relationship to frostbite. She has a concussion, and her wrists are both fractured."
Alan stood up, spilling his cocoa. "Is she conscious?"
"Not yet."
"Can I see her?"
"I suppose so." The doctor led the way, speaking over his shoulder as he did so. "I doubt she'll regain consciousness for awhile yet. If she does, no excitement, understand? She's not to know her sister's still missing."
"I understand." Alan entered the infirmary behind the doctor.
Megan lay on one of the white cots beside the wall. She was motionless as before, her face white as the sheet upon which she lay, her eyes closed. Miss Pick was seated beside her, holding one of the child's small, slender hands in her own large roughened ones. The girl's wrists were both splinted and an intravenous drop had been started, and the tube ran into the child's left arm above the splint. Her long red lashes lay against her white cheeks like two wounded butterflies.
The governess looked up at him as he approached, her expression unreadable. Alan hardly noticed her now, his attention all for the unconscious psychic. Psychic energy radiated from her in almost visible waves. It was hard for him to understand how the other Terrans present could fail to detect it.
He sat across from the governess, concentrating on the child. The level of consciousness had lightened now, and he thought he could probably probe her if he was given time and space. But with the governess and the doctor both there, he probably wouldn't be able to without them knowing something was amiss.
"If we could only talk to her!" the governess whispered. "She might be able to tell us where Maggie is. Can't you give her a shot or something, doctor -- bring her out of it -- just for a few minutes?"
The doctor grimaced. "I probably could, but it's risky. And anyway, any information we get probably won't be accurate, anyway -- what with a head injury and all."
"Please! Maggie could be dying this minute!"
The doctor stood up. "Very well. You're probably right." He went over to a table and picked up a vial. Somewhat to Alan's surprise, the governess followed him, giving Alan the moment of freedom he needed. He concentrated, seeking out the information, and, through the mists of coma, saw it -- the two girls moving lightly through the falling snow -- the sudden hum of a stunbolt from concealing twigs. Maggie had fallen and Megan had been brushed. The memories became vague, then -- a figure bending over her and Megan striking frantically at a hooded face -- the figure grabbing her hands and twisting both wrists hard. Lancing agony. Screaming in terror, and then lashing out instinctively at her attacker with her pyro ability. Her attacker had screamed, too, and stumbled back. Megan had lashed out a second time, made it to her feet and run.
The memory of her flight was vague. She remembered dimly stumbling through dark caverns, sobbing silently, knowing her pursuer was still behind her, and then at last of falling through an opening into the snow again and daylight. She had tried to regain her feet, and suddenly snow and rock were falling from above.
She remembered nothing else.
"Mr. Woodruff?"
Alan's mind snapped back to the present. The doctor was standing beside him, forehead furrowed. The governess was also there, her face still unreadable.
"Uh, yes?"
"I asked you to move back, please."
"Oh. Sorry." Alan stood up and stepped back. The doctor injected a small syringe full of fluid into Megan's IV.
There was no immediate response. The girl lay silent and still, eyes closed. Miss Pick bent over her, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Megan?"
The girl stirred.
"Megan, wake up. We need your help.
Megan groaned. "No..." she muttered. "Coming...hide."
"Megan, please --"
Alan touched the girl's mind with his. Deep below her conscious mind, he spoke her name gently and persistently. She gasped suddenly, her hands fluttering. Her eyes opened, cloudy and confused.
"Megan..." Miss Pick spoke very gently. "Do you hear me?"
The girl blinked. Her eyes closed again.
"Megan!"
"What?" It was a sleepy murmur.
"What happened to you? Where's Maggie?"
"Don't know..." again the thick murmur. "Gone..." She began to cry, but only for an instant. "Gone," she whispered then. "Took her."
"Someone took her?"
Megan nodded.
"Who?"
Megan took a deep breath, muttered something, and began to breathe slowly and deeply again.
"Megan!"
No response.
"That's enough." Dr. Avon put a hand on the governess' arm. "Let her sleep."
"Someone took her!" the governess was on her feet. "Kidnappers!"
Alan also rose. "I suggest you put a guard on this young lady, doctor. If what she says is true, then the same person could make another try for her."
"He's right!" The governess headed for the door. "I'm going to talk to the manager right now! We've got to get the police on this right away!"
The doctor sighed and went back to his patient. Alan went out and into the lobby. He was in contact with Lyn, who was informing him that she'd found nothing. Quickly he told her the results of his probe.
*I think we'd better do careful probes on everyone,* he told her. "It might be someone else, but with the storm and all, it's probably someone here at the lodge."
*I've already checked out these two guys,* Lyn informed him. *It isn't either one of them.*
*I'll check out everyone I can find here. Get back as soon as you can.*
*I will,* Lyn said.
**********
tbc
