"I can't believe you used me as bait," Thatcher said.
"I got it, didn't I?" Duvalier chided.
"A second later and it would have popped my head off."
"Uh-uh. I never leave less than a second and a half to chance, sweetie. Wait--"
The last was at the sound of Valentine setting Gail on her feet again.
"It's us," Valentine said, holding his jaw. He came into what might pass for a clearing-thick grasses rather than trees-around an old barn. The telephone poles lined a road like the Roman crucifixes on the Via Appia.
Duvalier knelt down, working.
Valentine stepped up and found what he expected, a headless Reaper.
"Hell, Val," Duvalier said.
"Uf igh," Valentine tried. "Rluff nigh."
Thatcher seemed lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the Reaper corpse. "You should have seen it-the Reaper was coming for me. I tried to fire but my gun was on safety, and before I could even flick off it reached, and there she was behind it."
"Big tactic," Duvalier said, examining the robe she had stripped off the Reaper for black-and poisonous-subcutaneous fluid. "Lying in the grass like a snake."
"You're one of those . . . one of those Hunter-things," Thatcher said.
"You have a problem with that?" Duvalier asked.
"Offerz," Valentine garbled. "Oturs."
"The others?" Duvalier said. "I dunno. I didn't hear any screams."
"Are there any more around?" Thatcher asked.
"Ope nog," Valentine said.
Thatcher took a better grip on his gun and looked warily around. "How do you know?"
"He knows," Duvalier said. "He just knows. Leave it at that." She gave him his rifle back, as though glad to give up an unpleasant burden.
"Can we sleep soon? How about in that barn?" Gail asked.
Valentine waved tiredly. "Attitude, Gail," Duvalier said.
"Stick the attitude. My feet are killing me," she said hotly.
"I think she's getting better," Thatcher said.
* * * *
It took them a while to find the trail of Dr. Boothe and Pepsa. Valentine found their marks in the long grasses. They'd cut over to a legworm trail and followed it up the hillside.
"What are they going back in that direction for?" Thatcher asked.
Valentine shrugged, resolved to communicate with hand signals. Gail groaned as they started up the hill.
They caught up to the pair, Boothe hiking along behind Pepsa carrying the gun in one hand, her medical bag slung.
Valentine elbowed Duvalier, pointed, and made a T with his hands. She nodded and slipped into the bushes, gripping her walking stick like an alert samurai carrying his sword.