Part 20 (2/2)
The monk halted before him. His green-hued eyes seemed to glow. The strands of his pale hair stirred. ”Do you have the book?” he asked.
”I won't betray her!” cried Alfric. ”I won't!”
”I must have it,” said Brother Wilfrid. ”It's what you agreed to get for me.” He sniffed. ”You have the stone too, don't you?”
Alfric nodded dumbly.
Wilfrid extended his frail, clawlike hand. ”Give me the book and the stone,” he said.
”Please, I promised ...”
”The book and the stone,” Wilfrid repeated as he drew closer, his eyes fixed on Alfric's face.
Alfric tried to back up, only to be impeded by the altar. ”Please,” he cried, ”she's been kind to me. She?”
”Listen to me, boy. When I have them,” said the monk, ”I will help her.”
”Does ... she need help?”
”She's in great danger. Now, give me what I asked for so I may go to her.”
”I just want to help her,” said Alfric. He was trembling, and sobbing softly, clutching the book to his chest, a tight fist clinging to the glowing stone. ”Can I truly trust you?”
”Of course you can!” cried the monk, and he reached out until his thin fingers touched Alfric's hands with an icy coldness that made the boy gasp. In an instant, his grip on the stone loosened. It dropped, pinging on the stone floor.
Wilfrid bent over and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the stone. Then he brought the stone to his mouth and swallowed it.
For a moment he stood unmoving until he reached out again, and this time gently pulled the book from Alfric.
Then the monk turned and began to walk away, taking the Book Without Words with him.
”Please!” Alfric cried through his sobs. ”You promised to help her.”
When the monk did not reply, Alfric smeared away his tears and hugged himself. A sensation that something was gone filled him. He looked around. The image of Saint Elfleda was no longer there.
12.
In the cemetery a shocked Sybil shrank back from Thorston. He was very different from when she had seen him last: he had become a young man.
”Stupid girl!” he cried. ”How dare you leave the house! You're my servant and nothing but but my servant. Who gave you permission to come here?” my servant. Who gave you permission to come here?”
”No one,” said Sybil.
”Look what I've done for you,” Thorston went on. ”An orphan girl, I gave you a home. I gave you food. Protected you. Is this the way you repay my kindness? Must I punish you?”
Sybil could not speak.
”But I will forgive you,” said Thorston, his voice softening. ”Just give me the book and the last stone.”
Sybil backed up a step.
”Come now. Without the Time stone I have nothing. Do you have it?”
”No.”
”Liar! Give it to me.”
The measure of anxiety in his voice made Sybil look at him in a different way: what she saw was something she had not seen before in him-fear.
”Did you not hear me?” cried Thorston. ”I must have the stone.”
”Where is Odo?” she managed to ask.
”Dead,” cried Thorston, his face suffused with rage. ”Let it be a warning to you,” he said, pointing at her. His hand shook. ”Just give me the stone,” he shouted. ”I must continue to live.”
”Why?” asked Sybil.
”Because I do not want to die!” Thorston screamed and took a step toward her.
”But why should I die for you?” Sybil said, backing up against a grave marker.
Thorston lunged. Sybil spun around, only to slip in the mud. The next moment, she felt Thorston's hand on her back, her neck. He held her tightly until, with a grunt, he flung her backward into the mire. She fell hard and turned just in time to see that Thorston had s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rock and was holding it high, about to bring it down on her. With a sudden twist, she rolled away. The rock came down by her side, deep into the graveyard mud.
Desperate, Sybil reached up and clutched the nearest marker and tried to pull herself up. Thorston grabbed her, forced her around, and pressed cold hands around her neck. ”The stone!” he screamed. ”I must have the stone!”
It was then that Sybil, sure she was about to die, heard another voice: ”And if I have it?”
13.
Thorston gasped. His hands went slack. He spun around. ”You!” he cried.
Sybil, struggling for breath, looked around, too.
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