The River of No Return

kill him. But he is dead. He has escaped me.”
    “Darchester killed your daughter? I don’t believe it. I knew the old earl my whole life. He was a harmless old windbag.”
    “Oh, you think so?” Arkady pointed his cigarette at Nick. “Before he went into hiding after the death of my daughter, your harmless old windbag was a man of middle age. A powerful man. A leader of men, a teacher, a prophet. She was young, and brilliant, and he? He seduced her. Not as a lover, no. But he seduced her as a teacher. He had in Brazil an Ofan think tank to try to pierce the Pale and learn its secrets. He stole the very best young minds from the Guild and Ofan alike. They experimented with the power. And my daughter, she was the strongest. One day she crossed the Pale. They were all working together, but Eréndira, she was the one, she went across. Vogelstein was holding her hand, and he let go. How could he let go? My daughter was lost. . . .” Arkady stopped. He could not go on.
    “She died,” Nick said gently.
    “Yes,” Arkady whispered. “She reappeared across the world and in another century. In her fear and pain she found Vogelstein, not me!” Arkady flicked his cigarette into the fire and pressed his palms to his eyes. “But he had this much of the humanity. He told me where to find her. She spent her final moments in my arms.” Tears seeped out from under Arkady’s hands. “She could not even speak! When she was dead I went to find him, to kill him. But he was gone. Never to be seen or heard from again.” Arkady lowered his hands and his tear-washed eyes shone electric blue. “The coward disappeared, my priest, poof! Like a puff of smoke.”
    “And he came to Devon.”
    “Yes. Now I know that he came to Devon. All along he had been this Georgian earl, this Lord Ignatius Percy. Ignatz Vogelstein, that was his Ofan name. After he fled Brazil he stepped back into his aristocratic life. He grew old in hiding, as the earl. Then he died.”
    “Why is that important now?”
    “Because Ignatz, of course, he didn’t just go to ground. All those years he continued with his research. He knew there was a talisman, and he searched for it. Perhaps he even found it. The crazy Eamon, even he knew there was such a thing. He thought it was that stupid cube! But Ignatz was up to something in Castle Dar, and he was not alone.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “What do you think?” The Russian stood, unfolding up out of his chair until he loomed over Nick. “Where do you suppose your little Julia Percy is this evening, Nick?”
    “In her room. She went early to bed,” Nick said.
    “No, no.” The Russian smiled down at him. “She is not in her room. This is why I am so glad you have the other woman. You will not be too heartbroken when I tell you.”
    Nick found himself on his feet. “Arkady . . . do not play with me.”
    “Your old girlfriend.” Arkady spread his hands. “The little pretty Julia. The poor little orphan. She is gone.”
    Nick felt the air leave his lungs. His world contracted to a tiny point.
    “What time is it?” Arkady looked at the clock on the mantel. “Nine o’clock? She ran away into the crowd at seven. I am just back from looking for her myself. . . .” He opened his box and extracted another cigarette, then waved it, unlit, between his fingers: “But—poof! Like her grandfather before her, she runs.”
    “Arkady, there is a riot out there! A woman lies dead in the square! It could be Julia!”
    “It is not. I checked. That dead woman, she has the red hair.”
    “Why did she run?” Nick heard his voice as if from a great distance, his body taut and still.
    “Because,” Arkady said, fishing a Zippo lighter out of his pocket. “She is Ofan. I was coming to find her. She fled.” With one smooth gesture he flipped the Zippo’s lid and made the tall flame leap up. He lit his gilded cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
    Nick watched Arkady’s display of self-indulgence, willing himself to stay still and calm. He felt himself shift into battlefield mode, his intention focused narrowly on the problems at hand. The first problem was Arkady and how to play him for information. “Oh,” he said, his tone sarcastic. “So Miss Percy is Ofan now? First the crazy earl and now that charming girl?”
    Arkady pointed his cigarette at Nick. “She is his granddaughter. And the talent is sometimes inherited. My daughter had it, and so does your Julia. We were watched, that day we