Free [Oxrun Station] The Bloodwind by Charles L. Grant Page A

that!"
    "Pat, you and I understand these things. But think back for a minute. Try to remember what it was like when you first started, when you were so sure you'd take the world by storm every gallery owner in New York would be falling all over themselves trying to sign you on. And let's face it, m'dear , Fallchurch and Har riet especially aren't the most stable people in the world. And they're kids! My god, we all keep forgetting that. I do it, too. We see these eager young students with all that talent, we talk to them, we learn about them, and we forget they haven't a clue about what the world's like. Kids, no matter how old they are, no matter how much they've traveled on Mommy and Daddy's money."
    She wanted to refuse the truth in what he said, and told herself she should have known it all along. He was right. It happened at least once a year, but this time she'd been so anxious to get the three started she'd been blinded by her own enthusiasm. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and Greg laid a hand on her arm for a moment, just long enough before she stirred and saw the embar rassment in Stephen's eyes.
    "All right," she said. " Boy, am I stupid."
    "No more than the rest of us, Pat," Stephen said with an encouraging smile. "We just don't like to be reminded that we really do have feet of clay. And I think sometimes we forget how much we can hurt these kids without meaning to. We're human, and they don't like it. Especially when they hang their dreams on our shoulders without our permission."
    "Okay, okay," she said, palms up. "But really —if we can get off my troubles and back to Danvers—really, smashing up a car like that? That's incredible. I can see vicious pranks, but what they did there was downright destruction! There would have had to have been an army of them. And why was my mallet left behind? It's like they were deliberately trying to implicate me."
    "No," Greg said instantly. "Most likely, they had someone watching. He saw Danvers coming and they split. One of them dropped it, that's all. You start thinking like that, Pat, you're going to end up in a Hitchcock movie or something."
    She half-smiled an admission the thought had crossed her mind, then lifted her glass to finish her drink while Greg beckoned to the waitress to bring another round. When she'd finished, however, she frowned. Janice was staring at her intently, and one hand automatically went to her hair, her throat, for something out of place.
    Then: "Yes? What? Have I got a piece of lemon on my tooth or something?"
    Janice blinked rapidly, startled, and a quick flush spread over her cheeks. "God, Pat, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
    "Uh-oh," Stephen muttered.
    Pat glared at him, turned back to Janice. "About what? Did I do something wrong?"
    "No, no," Janice said, lowering her gaze to the rim of her glass. "Nothing like that, Pat. I was just thinking about tonight, that's all."
    A pause, and Pat encouraged her with a smile.
    "Well . . . your office overlooks the parking lot, doesn't it?"
    "No," she said, "not really. I don't have a window on that side. Just one that . . . why?"
    "But the conference room does," Janice said. "I know that. That's right."
    "So?" Greg said. "What does that have to do with anything?"
    "So why didn't any of us hear what was going on? Or anyone in the Union, for that matter.  I   mean , you don't smash a car like that without making a hell of a racket, right? Right."
    "My window was open," Pat whispered, thinking.
    "And you didn't hear a thing the whole time?"
    "I was sleeping. I fell asleep."
    "And you didn't hear anything."
    Pat realized suddenly that the woman was frightened, her eyes shifting from side to side in search of an answer, narrowing angrily when Stephen laughed shortly.
    "Well, damnit , don't you think it's spooky?"
    Greg lifted his hands in confusion. "Spooky? Jan, what the hell are you talking about?"
    Janice sighed loudly, her exasperation bringing a sheen of moisture to her eyes. "I mean, Greg, that