The Thirteen Hallows by Michael Scott, Colette Freedman Page B

along her eyes and mouth. “In my youth, the elderly could walk the streets in safety,” she said. “But that was a long time ago.” She laid down and closed her eyes, indicating that the conversation was over.
    Sarah sat with the old woman until her breathing deepened and slowed to whispered breaths. Suddenly, the young woman was acutely aware of the house around her. She felt odd, as if a sixth sense had been granted to her. She was able to tangibly experience the feelings swirling about her: her mother’s radiated anger from the kitchen below, her brothers’ dull annoyance, especially little Freddie, who had to give up his room. Sarah smiled grimly, returning to her reality. She’d managed to do it again; she’d managed to alienate them all in one go. It was a gift. Christ! Her mother’s words came flooding back: She had it all, and yet she still managed to fuck it up; she was twenty-two, in a good job, with a great future, and earning a good salary.
    Sarah Miller’s smile turned bitter.
    She was twenty-two, in a lousy, dead-end job she hated, and she handed over most of her salary to her mother. She should have gotten a flat when she’d had the chance. But she hadn’t taken it, and in the last couple of years she’d begun to think that maybe she never would. She’d watched her friends move away from home, get apartments in the city, find boyfriends and girlfriends, and live . Some of them were even married now.
    Sarah gently disengaged the old woman’s fingers from her hand and stood looking down at the frail, tiny woman in the bed. Today, she’d done something positive, something good…and her mother had scolded her like a naughty little girl. Well, maybe she shouldn’t have brought Judith Walker home, but she couldn’t leave her in that horrible house, and somehow, bringing her here had seemed like the only decision to make.
    It had been the right thing to do. A good thing.
    Besides, the old woman would be gone in the morning, and everything would return to normal, although she knew it would be a long time before her mother would let her forget about it. She turned away, shaking her head, and quietly opened the door. She had to get out of this house before it sucked all the life out of her.
    Judith’s eyes snapped open when she heard the door click shut. She listened to Sarah step into the room next to hers, heard the bedsprings creak, the tinny crackle of a television or radio. Even without the sword to enhance her senses, the old woman could feel the girl’s un-ease and discomfort. Sarah was obviously dominated by her mother, which explained how Judith had been able to take control of her so easily. Yet that still didn’t explain why the girl had come to her aid in the first place. Her type always walked away…but not this time.
    That night, Judith dreamed of the girl.
    The dreams were dark and violent, and in them, the girl was fighting for her life…. The sword was in the dream, too. However, Judith couldn’t make out if the girl was using the sword to destroy…or if the sword was destroying the girl.

10
     
    The white king was magnificent. Three inches of solid crystal, incised and carved in marvelously intricate detail, down to the delicate design on the sword blade he held aloft. The queen was a masterpiece, the expression on the face perfect and made all the more human by the mole high on the left cheekbone. “How old are they?” Vyvienne ran her index finger down the length of the white queen. Richard Fenton’s blood had stained the white crystal darkly crimson. The old man had guarded his secret until close to the end. Only in the depths of his absolute agony, when she had stripped the flesh from his chest and back with the tiny flensing knives and then started on his inner thighs, had he revealed the secret of the location of the chessboard he had guarded for most of his life.
    The man known as Ahriman stepped across the blood that gathered in the tiles at the edge of the pool,