"There's a good chance it will."
"Well, I'll be ready for it." Mulvaney slapped his holstered gun. He
left, then, to continue his patrol of the area around the pavilion.
Bryan sat down on a bench and lighted a cigarette. An uneasy thought
had risen in his mind. He didn't know if Mulvaney would be able to
cause any real harm in the event that Leeta appeared, but he didn't
want the girl hurt.
Time passed with tortuous slowness. The tense hush that lay over the
park seemed to deepen. Bryan spoke to Mulvaney when the patrolman
reached him on his rounds, but otherwise the monotony of the wait
remained unbroken.
Bryan was fighting off a growing sleepiness, when at last he heard the
sound he had been alternately hoping and dreading would come--the sound
of wings. He saw the flying shapes, then, low against the star-studded
sky, beginning their descent toward the pavilion. The structure seemed
to be a favorite landmark, perhaps because it was situated in a
comparatively remote location and was easy to find in the darkness.
* * * * *
Mulvaney seemed to have heard the approaching sounds also. He came
running from some point on the opposite side of the pavilion, cutting
through the columned structure itself as he returned to Bryan. His
burly figure appeared on the pavilion steps--and then halted in amazed
surprise as he caught sight of the eerily glowing shapes that were now
winging downward.
Eagerness had pulled Bryan to his feet. The soaring figures were
rapidly coming closer, growing more distinct. He saw the giant bird and
its escort of mosquito-men. He saw Leeta, slender-limbed, elfin, her
gossamer draperies fluttering behind her.
The appearance of Mulvaney momentarily tore his attention from the
scene. He realized that the patrolman was silhouetted against the
pavilion's pale backdrop--a clear target. Leeta and the others would be
drawn to him, unaware this time that possible great danger impended.
Anxiety hammering within him, Bryan launched himself into a headlong
run toward Mulvaney. Already two of the mosquito-men were pulling ahead
of the others, skimming directly at the patrolman.
Mulvaney seemed to overcome the shock produced by his first sight of
the approaching shapes. He reached swiftly for his gun, raised it in
deliberate aim--fired. There was a burst of luminous brightness. One
of the two onrushing child-like winged figures was abruptly gone--gone
as swiftly and completely as though it had never been visible.
Bryan stumbled in his frantic stride, caught himself, numbed by a
sudden dismay. Leeta and her people could be hurt! It was as though
the glowing energy of which they seemed composed existed in a state of
delicate balance that could be disrupted by the impact of a bullet or
its shock-wave.
He reached the pavilion steps, leaped up them toward Mulvaney. He had
to keep the man from firing again. Somehow he had to show Leeta that
his intentions were friendly, sympathetic. He had to talk to her, make
her realize what she had been doing. Perhaps, even, he could help her.
Mulvaney's blue-clad body loomed up before him. He caught desperately
at the patrolman's arm.
"Wait!" he gasped. "Don't shoot!"
"Are you out of your mind?" the other cried. "Let go of me!"
They struggled. Bryan's foot slipped on the steps ... he fell.
The mosquito-men seemed disconcerted by the loss of one of their band.
They swerved away, as though in sudden terrified realization of danger.
But the great bird, with Leeta astride its back, continued toward the
ground a short distance from the pavilion, its huge size evidently
preventing swift evasive action.
Leeta was almost in point-blank range. And again Mulvaney was lifting
his gun.
On hands and knees, Bryan threw himself back at the other. He caught
Mulvaney about the legs, pulled. The patrolman went down, his gun
blasting harmlessly into the air.
Bryan was climbing back to his feet, when he saw the luminous
child-like shape of a mosquito-man darting at him, its needle-snout
spearing toward his chest. He sought to twist aside--too late. He felt
the brief pain: the electric sensation, and then paralysis held him in
its rigid grip.
A second of the mosquito-men dove at Mulvaney as he, too, struggled
erect, its needle-snout piercing his back. Mulvaney remained bent-over,
frozen, statue-like.
There was an odd hiatus, poignant, holding a realization of hopes
lost forever. Then a slim pale figure moved into Bryan's line of
sight--Leeta. She approached to stand before him, holding the crystal
globe, a vast wonder in her small face. He felt a pulse of thought,
soft and clear, holding a ring of silver chimes.
"It is you--he whose will cannot be overcome. Strange that we should
meet again ... stranger still that you should save my life. I do not
understand ... But I am grateful. And I wish--"
The silver melody broke as though against some cold unyielding wall.
Then it came again, sad, despairing.
"But what I wish cannot be, man of the mighty will. For you would not
willingly journey through the veil. You are bound to this aspect of
existence, as all the others were bound. But somewhere must be one who
is not.... And so my quest must go on. Again--farewell...."
* * * * *
Once more she was slipping from him. And once more he could do nothing.
Despite his frantic, violent inner struggle, he could make no sound
or movement, could give no slightest indication of the purpose that
drove him. He was imprisoned within a cage of flesh as unresponsive and
immovable as stone.
She turned to Mulvaney ... held the crystal globe to him. Its pulsing
quickened, it brightened. And Mulvaney fell, limp--empty.
Watching through his despair, Bryan saw Leeta stand hesitating. Slowly
she glanced at him, as if somehow, throughout the weird proceedings,
he had been at the back of her mind. Her small face seemed to hold a
reluctance, a regret.
Then she turned and moved beyond his sight. And presently he heard the
flapping of wings, drawing away, fading. Stillness closed over the park
again.
Bryan felt the paralysis draining from him, more swiftly this time. It
was as though his body had adjusted to it since the first attack.
He was straightening awkwardly, painfully, when he heard a sudden
faint rustling of branches, followed by the sound of light running
feet. A figure appeared in the open space before the pavilion, hurrying
toward him. The figure of a girl. And then he recognized her. Joyce!
He felt a sharp surprise ... an unease. What was Joyce doing in the
park?
"I saw what happened," she gasped breathlessly as he came up. Her face
looked pale and strained. "Are you all right?"