The Shadow Men by Christopher Golden; Tim Lebbon Page B

what had happened to Jenny and Holly. What would he do, Google “vanishing people”? He would get crazy Bermuda Triangle stories and Amelia Earhart.
    Are you sure? he wondered, and realized he wasn’t.
    Another twenty minutes went by, and the waitress had obviously become uncomfortable. If he and Trix had been talking, they wouldn’t have drawn any real attention, but even the bartender kept glancing at them uneasily because they just sat there, waiting.
    “Are you two sure I can’t get you another cup of coffee or another drink?” the waitress asked.
    Jim looked at Trix, who shook her head. “We’re good, thanks,” he told the waitress.
    But this time the woman didn’t go away. She hesitated before speaking.
    “Are you waiting for someone? It’s just, you keep looking at the door.”
    Jim stared at Trix a minute, running his forefinger over the rim of his coffee cup. Then he started to stand. “We’re going,” he said. “I’m sorry we took up the table so long.”
    “No, no,” the waitress said. “No one’s waiting. I just wondered if you needed anything.”
    “Jim,” Trix said, staring at him. “Let’s … please let’s just get another cup of coffee. A little while longer, okay?”
    He glanced at her and then the waitress. “All right,” he said, sitting down. “Decaf.”
    Trix asked for a cappuccino, and when the waitress left them alone, she slid back her chair. “I’ve got to use the bathroom,” she said.
    “Hey,” he said as she started to walk away. “One more cup and then we go.”
    Trix froze, looking back at him. “And then what?”
    Jim stared at his empty cup. “Maybe we wake up in the morning and it’s all back to normal.”
    “Like Scrooge?” Trix said, and it was obvious she did not believe it for a second. “Yeah. Maybe.”
    She headed off toward the back of the restaurant, where a sign painted on the wall pointed the way to the restrooms. Jim fiddled with his cup until the waitress came and refilled it with decaf. As she walked away he poured a little cream and took a sip, flinching at the burn of the hot liquid.
    “May I sit?”
    Jim glanced up, startled to find an old woman standing beside the table.
    She smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m always doing that. My friends tell me I walk on cat feet. I didn’t mean to make you jump.”
    “No, no, I’m fine,” he said, studying her.
    Once she would have been considered tall for a woman—especially in her youth, which must have been sixty years gone, at least—but now age had stooped her so badly that she had lost several inches. Deep wrinkles lined her face with the gentle scars of time. And yet her eyes were a kaleidoscope, hazel flecked with gold, bright and alert and full of humor. She wore her white hair to her shoulders, unlike so many women of advanced age.
    “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
    She smiled. “Quite the contrary, Mr. Banks. May I sit?”
    Jim frowned and glanced toward the bathroom, then focused on the woman again. He was unsettled now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Now she looked … cross. The perfect word for the disgruntled expression on the old woman’s face. “You’re being quite impolite, James. Or is it Jim? Yes, I suspect it is. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? It’s rude not to offer an old lady a seat, Jim, especially when she’s already asked for the courtesy.”
    He shook himself and half stood, nodding. “Yes. I’m sorry, please sit down.”
    Quite the contrary . Did that mean she meant to help him? He stared at her as she settled into the spot Trix had vacated in the booth.
    She laughed softly. “Ah, yes. Now you’re thinking, ‘The old hag doesn’t look especially magical.’ Or something like that. Though perhaps not ‘hag.’ Not from you.”
    He started to protest and glanced toward the back of the restaurant again.
    “Don’t worry. Trix will be along in a minute or two. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, but it couldn’t