CHAPTER SEVEN

The Tiger Comes

Taryn sighed as she settled on her "couch"; an old sofa back that had been removed from the main body and attached to soft cushions on the floor with a flap of durable nylon, and then covered with patterned fabric in the form of eagles; with her mother in the comfy chair next to her. She was pretty sure that her face showed none of the turmoil that was going on in her head. She pretended to watch soaps while inside her mind was turning over and over the last conversation she had with Sylvie. Her friend's demeanor at their last encounter was worrisome now that she had time to think better. She had been too...preoccupied with other...things, to have paid as close attention as she should have.

"Honey, why so red?" Gaah! She hadn't meant to blush! Curse these reflexes!

"I'm fine Mom. Honestly. Just a...umm...good scene. That's all." Could she have stammered anymore? Taryn wanted to knock her head against a wall, especially when her mother said,

"Tom and Hank are just fishing, dear. What would make you go all red about that?"

Taryn answered quickly. "Well, you know how good looking Tom is. Even fishing he's hot."

Mary chuckled and turned back to the show. Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief that she had bought it. Crisis past, Sylvie came back to haunt her. She replayed the last bit Sylvie had said before the story, "My parents are lying to me." That wasn't a good statement.

All through the show, her parents were a source of strength for her. Sometimes, all that kept her going was the thought of getting home to them. If she thinks they're lying to her, then that's going to make her question everything she ever knew about them. If that happens, then Sylvie might just shatter. The thought disturbed her. Sylvie had always been the strong one, fearless. Even beaten down and enslaved, she...

The sound of a telephone ringing jolted her. She craned her neck as Mary grabbed the phone and reached for the remote. Hitting the mute, she spoke normally, though Taryn could tell she was slightly vexed at not being able to hear what was going on.

"Hello? Why hello Greg. How's Anna and Sylvie? Oh, we're fi...what's that? Dreams? Well, I don'...let me check."

She lowered the mouthpiece and looked at Taryn. "Sweetie, Greg wants to know if you've gotten any strange dreams lately."

Taryn wrinkled her forehead. Why would he be asking that? She'd had the usual nightmares of course, those never seemed to fade, but nothing spectacular.

Her mother took the hint and told Greg. She was quiet for a while, a frown coming across her face, and a hint of fear. Taryn began to get an uneasy feeling. It strengthened until it felt like worms had crawled in and made a home in both of her stomachs. She pricked her ears to try and hear better.

"I see. Is Sylvie alright?" Taryn leaned forward, but all that she could make out was a growl on the other end of the phone, with an occasional word she could understand.

"I'm glad to hear that Greg. Don't worry yourself, that animal is in prison for a very long time. I'm not sure how well we can handle...on...yes, I understand Greg, but...No, you're right of course. I see. Well, tell Sylvie we love her and will be there for her. Yes. No. Uh-huh. Thank you for calling Greg. We'll be fine. Night."

Her mother finally hung up the phone, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Is Sylvie alright?" She tried to keep calm, but the demanding tone made Mary's eyes shoot up to her scalp.

Taryn colored. "Sorry." She said apologetically.

"It's all right sweetie. To answer your question...what in the world?" She broke off in confusion at a firm rap at the door. She got up to answer it.

From her position on the floor near the window, Taryn could easily see the front door and the handsome dark-haired man in the suit that stood framed there. Behind him a black SUV dominated their driveway. He towered over her mother, and the dark suit that blended into his skin did nothing to hide the thick muscles, or his squarish face that looked like something out of Terminator. It was broken by his warm smile and the laughing blue eyes that twinkled from behind his regal nose. He dropped the dark glasses into his suit pocket and held out his hand.

"Mrs. Grogan, I presume?" he asked cheerfully. His voice sounded like a cello, deep but not bass.

"Yes? How may I help you?" Mary asked carefully.

"I'm Barry Bengal from the FBI." He pulled his badge from his other pocket and presented it. The shield and eagle gleamed. "I'm here to question Ms. Grogan on her experiences."

"I'm sorry, but she's already told everything to the Police Chief. You'll have to go through him."

"Funny thing, but he seems a tad reluctant to allow the government access to the primary witness against the suspect known only as Roland." His voice was mild, but Taryn could hear the annoyance. Apparently, Ben had managed to hold his own against the feds until now.

"I'm not sure why, but it is late, and my daughter and I were having a private conversation." Mary said firmly. She started to close the door.

"I'm sorry to have to do this ma'am, but I have a court order requiring Taryn to appear in front of agents. We have the right to bring her in for questioning. I'd rather not, myself. It would be much easier for everyone if we could keep this light and informal, but it is your choice." There was no mistaking the steel in his voice, or the set of his jaw.

"I'm sorry, but that matter is to be handled by the Chief."

"Regardless, I am to take Ms. Grogan back to Washington for questioning. I could get away with doing it here or at the local office, but I require your cooperation for that to happen."

"Now listen here―"

"It's all right, mom." Taryn interrupted. She felt tired, no exhausted. Nightshade was right. "Let him in."

Mary stepped back from the door reluctantly, glaring at Agent Bengal with thinly veiled dislike. He took no notice as he ducked through the frame. His smile was back on in full force and he didn't even hesitate as he sat down comfortably on one of the chairs. Taryn knew he had been well briefed on her, and wondered what he would be looking for.

"Miss Grogan," he began.

"Please, call me Taryn. Everyone else does."

"All right, Taryn." He pulled out a small recorder and set it on the table, pulling it easily across the floor so it was set directly between them, microphone pointed at her. "The office would like to hear, in your own words, the events and actions that led to your encounter with this Roland."

"Surely that's unnecessary." Mary injected. "She's given her story to the chief; it's a matter of record now."

"Some details may have been missed in the official report." Agent Bengal replied, unfazed by her mother's rudeness. "Others may have been forgotten. Either way, surely it won't hurt hearing her story just one more time."

"I suppose not." Taryn muttered. She hated bringing back those memories! The wounds, the feeling that she was nothing more than a beast of burden or a show pony, the smiling face of Nightshade that turned her stomach each time, but worse was the good feelings associated with her past. The feeling of the applause, the triumphs shared with Sylvie, and occasionally the rewards that were doled out by the circus for jobs well done. The last one made her feel ashamed and used each time she remembered, but she laid it all out again. The time she was with Roland, through the kidnapping and escape in Rio. By the time she had finished speaking, Night was falling fast and the windows were darkening. It must be past five now, she thought.

"That's...quite the story Taryn. Thank you." He cocked his head slightly to the right. "I can't help but notice that some of your words...don't match up to your previous account about how you captured Nightshade. Certain...details seem to be off."

"Well of course." Mary snapped. "She tries to use the same words, but they'll be a little different. You tell a story over and over and of course there's going to be some changes."

"Not necessarily, but you're right. Sometimes, especially after a great deal of time has passed between the accounts, they'll match up except on the tiniest details and the verbatim. It should be no big deal, but I'm getting the sense that what happened in that alley after you cornered him is different than what you've been telling me."

"Why do you think that?" Taryn countered.

"Oh, just some small things really. Your positioning at the alley mouth, the fact you told us that you used an arm to choke him out instead of your hand, like the prison medical report clearly states. Small things."

"I see." Taryn considered. She looked nervously at the recorder. Seeing her gaze, Bengal appeared to consider a moment before he leaned forward and switched it off. He leaned back with an expectant look. Taryn took a deep breath and launched into the meeting with Nightshade in the alley, leaving nothing out. Her mother looked startled, and then sad as Taryn told of her waiting in the alley mouth, seeing him come out, confronting him about Ben's parents murder, his admittance that the order had gotten out of control, his expectation that he was about to be killed at her hand, explaining her future, and pulling the gun. Mary reached over and squeezed her hand as Taryn told of how she had smacked the gun aside and choked Nightshade, his serenity at the end, and his full expectation that he was about to die. She stared at the rug as she muttered about how, for a moment, she thought she had; how she wished she had, and the arrival of the police.

When she finished, Bengal looked thoughtful. The look of pity in her mother's eyes, however, made her feel far worse. Man, I forgot how bad that looked.

Bengal looked about ready to say something when a drumming sound outside interrupted him.

"What the hell?" he frowned when the door burst asunder, the splintered remains flying against the far wall and sliding to the floor; framed in the doorway stood Sylvie, her flanks heaving, sweat running down her brow, her brown eyes roiling volcanoes as she roared, "Wolfe! I told you what I'd do if you bothered Taryn and the...the.... you're not Wolfe." Sylvie said in utter confusion.

Bengal shook his head as he lowered his pistol from where'd he'd been pointing it at Sylvie.

She looks terrible! Taryn thought, wondering if she dared moved from in front of her mother. The moment the door had splintered she'd leapt to her feet and got in front of the chair, her arm up like she was holding a war shield, her other one curling in longing for her war spear. When she saw it was Sylvie she'd relaxed a little. Until she got a look at her. Sylvie's entrance had splintered the door, and many of them peppered her hide and arms. Several still stuck out of her skin and had started to bleed. Sweat, anger, and fear had distorted her face at first, but it lost some of the wild look with the confusion that spread across her features right then. Recognizing a tense moment, Taryn felt she had to defuse the situation.

"Sylvie, this is Agent Barry Bengal from the FBI." She explained. Sylvie's eyebrow twitched, and her eyes became instantly hard. "He simply wants to interview us for the government records. He has a warrant Syl." She said urgently.

Sylvie glanced at her in surprise, then back at Bengal.

"Well, you've already talked to Taryn, and your man Wolfe spoke to me already at the range, so you can go now." She stepped aside from the door, gesturing to the broken door. Above her shoulder the oiled buttstock of the rifle waved brilliantly.  

"I do not know this Wolfe." Bengal said, staying firmly planted as he spoke slowly and carefully, his pistol pointed at the floor. "But I can tell you that I was the only agent assigned to the case."

"He said he worked for the government," Sylvie repeated stubbornly, "through the Golden Star Corporation."

"Ah, that explains it." Bengal nodded; he seemed to have gotten something from that. "You're partially right; they work very closely with DARPA and some of our other research projects. It would make sense that they would be interested enough to send someone down to take a look. However, understand that I am the official representative of the FBI on this case, not corporate. Thus, whatever he might have implied, he had no legal authority on this investigation."

Taryn realized that a lot more was being left unsaid then said, but at that moment she felt her mom pushing against her flank, and she realized that she'd all but smothered her back into the chair in her rush to protect her. Flushing scarlet at her carelessness, she stepped back. Leaping from the couch, her mom hurried to Sylvie, laying her hand on her flank to calm the shivering centaur.

"Agent Bengal," she said quietly, but firmly. "I'm afraid this has upset both my daughter and Sylvie. I've got to ask you to leave and inform this Mr. Wolfe that he's to stop bothering us, or face harassment charges. These are teenagers sir, not criminals."

"You'd be amazed how often I see hardened criminals in teens, Mrs. Grogan." Bengal said quietly. But you are right in that this has been a long day. However," here his voice dropped lower and started to growl. "Young lady, what you did here was stupid, and could have gotten you hurt or worse. I was warned about your...rashness, but I can only make exceptions for so much."

Sylvie looked about ready to argue but Taryn jumped in before her friend could say something stupid.

"Yes sir! We understand."

As Bengal started to walk out, holstering his pistol, he stepped under the hall light and became fully illuminated for the first time since the door shattered. Sylvie jerked in surprise, a frown flitting across her face so fast Taryn wondered if she'd imagined it. Bengal paused, as if waiting for her to speak, but she said nothing and he continued out the door to the truck. A moment later there came the sound of an engine starting up, dimming quickly as he drove away.

When he'd gone, Taryn nearly fell to the floor in relief. Mentally shaking her head to rid herself of visions that included Bengal shooting Sylvie and leading her away in handcuffs, Taryn focused on her friend. She was looking abashedly at the door with a slightly dejected air about her.

"I'm really sorry about the door, Mrs. Grogan." She nearly whispered. "I'll get a new one and fix it."

"Where dear?" her mother said practically. "You're safe, but don't do something like that again...you might have been hurt, breaking in here like that. Next time, call the Chief and stay out of sight."

"Sorry." Sylvie muttered, looking dejectedly down.

Her mom opened her mouth to say something, when a siren began to wail in the distance.

"Well." She sighed. "It looks like someone noticed the commotion. Taryn, would you take Sylvie into the kitchen and get her some tea?"

"Sure mom!" Taryn said. Grabbing Sylvie's arm, she led the protesting centaur into the kitchen. Her mother was taking things a little too well, she thought, especially about the damage done to the house. But maybe she was still steamed at Agent Bengal more than Sylvie now.

In the hall, her mother's clock struck seven, with a rhythmic bonging sound. Taryn forced a smile onto her face. "Tea time!" she announced in her best British accent. The joke fell flat and Sylvie simply stared at the floor.

Putting the kettle on the stove, she pulled four bags of herbal tea from the box and two giant mugs from the cabinet. Placing the mugs on the counter, she put two bags in each of the mugs and went to the table to wait.

Sylvie had moved to the table as well, and stared morosely out the glass door. Taryn didn't think she really saw the glass or the backyard, and she wondered what Sylvie did see.

See...that reminded her of Mr. Mathison's call!

"Sylvie, what was this dream your dad was asking about?" Taryn asked, feeling slightly curious, but hoping more to draw her friend from this shell she was in.

"What?" Sylvie started, jolted from her reverie.

"Your dad called, right before the FBI showed up. Mom said you had a bad dream?"

"It wasn't a dream, Taryn." Sylvie looked at her earnestly. "It was a warning."

"Of what?" Ben asked, coming through the door. His thick hair looked more frosted then Taryn remembered, and he shook his head as he eased his bulk into the kitchen. His face was haggard and his eyes were worn and tired, but his uniform looked crisp and fresh and his stride seemed firm and determined.

"Hi Chief." "Hello Chief." The girls said; Taryn brightly, Sylvie resigned.

"Hello girls." Ben nodded curtly. "What warning?" he asked again, looking hard at Sylvie.

With a sigh, Sylvie recapped her vision as everyone listened. Taryn shivered at Sylvie's description of the chimeras, what loathsome creatures! Her mother gasped when Sylvie mentioned the part of the carving where Taryn lay seemingly dead, her spear shattered and another driven into her belly. Taryn found herself more interested in Nightshade's warning, and the cold anger that sparked in her gut at the mention of spies. It made sense and fit Nightshade's MO perfectly.

"...and then the door shattered and there was this huge creature there. I couldn't make it out, but I fired at it and the bullet passed through without harming it. It laughed at me and snarled, picking me up and jeering. I... I woke up after that." Sylvie finished. She had resumed looking out the glass door again, leaving Taryn to wonder what to do.

Ben looked skeptical, but stayed quiet. His look must have shone on the glass however.

"It's all right chief." Sylvie told his reflection. "I would be doubtful myself. Just...be wary, I guess."

"Well, I'll definitely do that...and search for this spy. Can't do much if I find him, but it would be nice to have tabs on the guy when we discover him." Ben growled. "Now, perhaps you can explain to me why you broke down Mary's door? Especially when there was a FEDERAL AGENT IN THE ROOM!!!" he bellowed angrily.

Everyone shrank back, but Sylvie recovered first and looked stubbornly. She explained about her encounter with Wolfe and how it had gone...poorly. Ben looked dazed at the description of the near gun battle that had been narrowly avoided, while angry at the offer Wolfe had made later.

Taryn listened to the story and shook her head. "Something's not right here." She said when Sylvie had finished.

Everyone looked at her questioningly.

"Well, think about it." She said. "Two people, both purportedly from the government, show up here at the same time and neither of them knows the other?" she shrugged. "What are the chances of that?"

"Actually, they're a lot better than you think." Ben grimaced. "Quite often one hand doesn't know what the other one is doing. The stories I could tell you about Iraq..." he trailed off, his eyes flashing angrily. "Well, never mind."

Sylvie shrugged uncomfortably. "I had warned him away and hurried here to let Taryn know and get a phone when I saw the same truck and-"

"Where's your cell?" Taryn interrupted, surprised. The first thing they'd received when they'd gotten home were cell phones, and they were told to never let them leave their sides.

"Dead." Sylvie admitted. "I forgot to charge it last night with all the excitement and realized it was dead after I pulled it out to call the chief."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Like I said, I saw the car, thought it was him, and charged in. Pretty stupid." She scudded a hoof abashedly, then stopped with a horrified look at the floor.

"Very much so." Ben sighed. "We're lucky that he was in a good mood for whatever reason. He might have charged you, which would be disastrous."

"I bet he was ordered not to." Taryn said suddenly, her mind buzzing.

"What? What do you mean?" Ben asked, surprised.

"Well, I was just thinking. We're still famous for being centaurs in the first place, right? Everyone knows we were turned against our will and they know that we were enslaved by Nightshade for quite a while. Everyone feels sorry for us still, and anything done against us would get negative publicity right now. The FBI doesn't want that, but they do want to be seen doing something. That's why Bengal is approaching this carefully."

"Hmm. Good thought, and probably not far off the mark, but don't count on it working for you." Ben warned. "The FBI doesn't care overmuch about publicity, but doing their jobs, regardless of who is hurt in the process. Most likely, they simply don't have the facilities to hold you yet so taking you in would open them up to liability issues. That won't last forever, though."

He sighed. "Now, all we have to do is get them to work with us in letting you stay here and not interfere. We've got a lot of leeway thanks to the Bill of Rights and the Constitution, but it won't hold them for long. Good thing Anna's such a sharp lawyer, which will help us a lot in this."

The kettle started to scream. Taryn hastily snatched it off the stove and poured. Returning the kettle to the sink, she placed the mugs on the table, the steam wafting off the hot liquid into the air. Sylvie stared at her mug, her eyes a million miles away while Ben stood writing notes into his notebook.

After a few more questions, he left the house, bidding them good-night. Sylvie and Taryn picked up the pieces of the door and threw them into the garbage.

"Mom, we're going to the hardware store to get a new door." Taryn told her.

"All right dear. I'll stay here and watch the house, if Sylvie is going with you." Her mother said from the hall.

"Of course!" Sylvie jumped in. "I'll pay for the door." She told Taryn. "I've got plenty of cash right now for it."

Taryn frowned at her, baffled. What cash?

Her confusion must have shown on her face because Sylvie added, "I gave a few lessons to some folk at the range today."

"Ah." Taryn said, nodding. It made perfect sense, but would it be enough? How much did a lesson cost anyway? She asked.

Sylvie shook her head, her red hair flapping side to side. "Sylvie, they were openly bidding on having a lesson from me! I mean, Wolfe paid twelve thousand for my time. And there were others asking six or seven thousand as well! I couldn't believe it, thought I was dreaming or something but..." she looked around for a few minutes, before darting into some bushes. Taryn followed, feeling bemused.

What prank is she playing at? I mean, no one would pay--her thought chopped off as she watched Sylvie pull a huge wad of cash from the bottom of her rifle sheath, then another from the pockets on the sheath, plus more from the pockets of her sweater.

"Sy-Sylvie!" Taryn gasped, stunned down to her toes! A god striking her in the face with a mallet couldn't have made more of an impact.

"I know." Sylvie whispered. "I wasn't thinking about it when I came to get you, but all this cash is making me really nervous. Can't wait to see mom to drop it off. But for now, I definitely got the door covered."

"And then some." Taryn muttered, unable to wrap her head around the thought of how much money Sylvie had in her hands. Granted, she was an excellent shot and perhaps one of the best trick shooters she'd ever heard of, but really, so much for a lesson? It was ridiculous.

It didn't take long for them to purchase a door. They caught Tom, the hardware store owner, just before he closed his doors for the night and he generously let them in.

Walking back to the selection, they peered at the options, examining the measurements they'd taken and finally selecting a nice, sturdy little door with blue paint, that had a half-moon shape on the top with spokes like the morning sun and prism glass that would turn any light that passed through it into rainbows.

Carrying the load back to the house proved to be awkward. They stood at the counter discussing for a few minutes how they would carry it; Sylvie was of the mind they should hold it in front of them, with one guiding the other to the house. Taryn thought it silly and suggested that one of them place it on her back and have the other one walk beside them, holding on to keep it from falling.

Tom settled the argument by telling them to toss it in his pickup outside. He'd drive it to Mary's house and install it himself before bed.

"Besides, I want to ask her about the Pumpkin Festival we're having this year. See if she's bringing anything to it."

"Pumpkin festival?" Taryn asked. What was this?

"Oh, guess you didn't see the flyer in my window." Tom pointed to a square sheet of paper stuck on the panes to the door. "You can't read it from this side, but basically we're going to hold a festival in the park for Halloween. This time we're going to have scary costume judging, pie fighting, hay mazes, that kind of thing. Should be fun."

"How come we haven't heard about it before?" Sylvie asked, mirroring Taryn's thoughts.

"Well, the flyers only came out a couple of days ago, and I don't think they've started working on the park yet. Probably won't until later on, maybe the weekend before the party. So, I'm not all that surprised. Mary might not have heard anything about it, bein' as she's so worried 'bout you two." He added.

They carried the door out to the truck where he put it inside. Then he drove off, promising to meet them at Taryn's house while they set off at a steady walk.

They'd only gone a short distance when, skitter! Crack! The sound of a rock bouncing off her hoof jolted her and brought back something important.

"Hey Sylvie, why don't you stay with me tonight and we can trim our hooves? It's been a while since we got them done."

Sylvie blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, not since Ted..." she broke off uncomfortably.

"Yeah." Taryn agreed quickly, "Not since Ted did them for us. I wonder how he's doing?" She froze, wanting to kick herself for being so stupid.

"Don't know." Sylvie said vaguely, not even noticing. "Way I hear it, most of the people cut and run at the docks after Megan and Cindy left, leaving the equipment behind. Most hadn't been caught, not even Halls, and according to mom she was tied up when they left--who would have thought of her actually helping us? --but wasn't caught at the scene. Chances are, she got them out." Her fist clenched tight in memory, and Taryn shuddered. Regardless of her helping her parents, and the kindness she'd shown her mother, they could only think of the person they'd known; a horrible, cold taskmistress who whipped them mercilessly to make them work harder at their lessons.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about them anymore." Taryn finally said encouragingly. "I think they've gone on, hopefully to better things."

"yeah." Sylvie agreed.

They didn't say much beyond that as they walked the last distance to the house. Tom's truck sat in the driveway, the door already hung on the frame. Taryn breathed a sigh of relief that the frame had suffered little damage beyond the torn screw holes.

Tom walked out past them, bidding them good night as he hopped into his truck and drove away.

"He seemed eager." Sylvie commented as they went into the house.

"His wife's waiting for him." Taryn shrugged.

"Ah."

"Well, you going to spend the night here tonight?"

Sylvie looked around a moment, then nodded. "If your mom doesn't mind. Mine are still at the office, more than likely, though I'll leave a message on the machine. The trials are starting up, so even when mom's home she's not, and Dad is trying to get the town council behind him on a building project so they've been having late sessions that go for hours."

"How much longer do you figure your mom will be at the trials?" Taryn asked, pulling on her pajamas.

"Don't know." Sylvie's muffled reply came. With a firm tug her head popped out the stubborn top.

"That's better. The answer is, I don't know. The cases will drag on for months, and then there will be the appeals. Best guess? Seven years, minimum."

"Sylvie!" Taryn gasped, unable to process the information.

Sylvie flashed a grin. "I know she won't be handling all the cases or be so slammed for that long, but this initial flurry has her backlogged as prosecutor, as well as every firm in the city. Rumor has it that the state might appoint several prosecutors and judges for this caseload. Mom said they caught almost four hundred people in one night."

Taryn felt her mouth hanging down around her feet. "But...but that's more than half the people in the city!"

"Yeah. Apparently, some of the gangs had brought in some of their outside connections when the city blew up. Probably hoped that it would swing the advantage their way...maybe even tried for a full Al Capone takeover, but it didn't work. Now as many as half the dirtbags are from out of town." Sylvie said bitterly.

Taryn didn't know what to say. Everything about the Riots seemed like something else, a nightmare that happened elsewhere.

"Don't worry about it Tar." Sylvie smiled at her. "It won't be much longer before the leaders' stuff is done and Mom will start to back off at the office. Come on, let me make that call and then let's get some sleep."

With a quick good night to her mom, Taryn shut off the light in the garage and lay carefully down on the mattress, trying to keep her hooves from dirtying the fabric. She felt herself slipping away even before her head hit the pillow.