“So, any contact?”
“Yes,” Adrian said.
He finished dressing and leaned against the musty-sour smelling wall of the motel room and hissed as he cautiously stretched the healing leg. The Power could speed the process, but he still needed to make sure there weren’t adhesions if he was going to recover full use. The pain was deep but not shrill; he monitored it carefully.
Pain is just a sensation. Let it go by without paying too much attention. It’s paying attention to pain that hurts.
“OK, that was informative,” Harvey said dryly.
Adrian grinned. “I had a nice long chat with Ellen.”
And fortunately woke up first, so I could attend to the… evidence.
“She’s… nothing worse has happened to her. Except that Adrienne forced her to spend a day shopping together. Adrienne was buying her clothes and seeing to her hairdo.”
Harvey’s worn face scrunched. “Hell, that’s a new one, and I thought I was something of an expert on Shadowspawn brutality. ’Course, it would only be hell for me to be forced to spend a day looking at clothes ’n’ shoes and shit. Lots of females like that stuff.”
“How perceptive. You were divorced three times, Harv. I wonder why? At least I like shopping, within reason.”
“They all left you too!”
“Yes, but that was because I wasn’t human, not because I was but did it badly like you, my old. To a woman, forced shopping is probably a subtle but horrible form of psychosexual dominance behavior.”
“I think I liked you better depressive,” Harvey said dryly. “Why so cheerful?”
“Amid the dresses and pantyhose, Adrienne had lunch with Michiko… and Dale Shadowblade.”
“Oooohhh, shit.” The humor died out of Harvey’s eyes. “That is one mean motherfucker, even in the crowd he runs with. This is good news?”
“Hell, yes, Harv. Because of what they all discussed. Ellen could not get all the details; much of the conversation was in languages she did not know. But Adrienne is using the credit she got with Hajime to get him to have his… not precisely a birthday party. A celebration called Prayer for Long Life.”
Harvey snorted and finished pulling on his leather jacket. “Interestin’, on account of he’s been dead since I was about ten, and I’m no spring prairie chicken.”
“They’ve adapted it to take Second Birth into account. And Adrienne is trying to convince him to have it at her estate.”
Harvey’s blue eyes went blank with calculation. “Oh-ho. Slip you in amid the inevitable screw-ups? Me as backup? Get Ellen out?”
“And kill Adrienne.” Adrian nodded grimly. “No point without that. We may have to run. Hajime could come after us in New Mexico easily enough. But it is an opportunity.”
“I can see that would make a man happy. Maybe too happy. I’ll plug into the Shadowspawn rumor mill. Too easy to get details, and it’s a trap. Hard, but they’re there, probably genuine.”
Adrian’s grin grew wider. “And Ellen wants to come back to me,” he said. “Now that we can be… honest with each other. I never really thought that would be possible.”
Harvey whistled softly between his teeth. “I was hopin’ things would turn out OK for you two. But I wasn’t holding my breath, exactly.”
“Neither was I. But Ellen was… quite convincing.”
“Got mentally laid, did you? That does tend to cheer a man up.”
Adrian made a rude gesture, as much as he could with one knee clasped to his chest.
“I have never been loved… loved for myself-you understand? At most, only for the mask I wore, and that for a little while. This is… marvelous.”
The older man hesitated. “You realize, you’re her lifeline right now? I’m not saying she’s not honest, but…”
“… but her feelings might change once she is no longer in Adrienne’s power. Yes, that is possible, but I don’t think it’s likely. And that, my friend, makes me feel very good indeed. Even more anxious for Ellen, but… good.”
He finished the exercises and walked over to his bed. His nose wrinkled slightly; the sheets hadn’t been used before they arrived, but they’d been musty. Now they smelled stale with his pain-sweat and faint traces from the bandaged wounds. He still sat. This whole place smelled bad.
“And I was thinking also of larger matters.”
“Uh-oh. Sex and philosophy. That’s a dangerous duo.”
“Salop. No, I meant what you said to Sheila the other day. The Power is here to stay. And while it’s good that Ellie trusts me, humans cannot live on our individual forbearance. We must learn how to… to untangle that kludge evolution handed us. The blood and pain and death, they are accidents. With the Power itself, and enough knowledge, we could make it the common inheritance of humanity.”
“Well, yeah. Except that almost all the people with a lot of the Power are your unesteemed sister’s sort. Can you see her working as a receptionist?”
“We could be… doctors. Therapists. Even police.”
“Christ, Adrian, you gonna start singin’ kumbaya next?”
“Harvey, we have switched roles in a week.” Adrian laughed. “But seriously, a lot of it is the way we are raised. You raised me from my early teens, and I didn’t turn out so very bad, eh?”
“Yeah. Now I’m playing pessimist. OK, first order of business, let’s sort out the files on the Br?z? properties and figure which one is going to be the site of this monster jamboree. Ellen said it was an all-day trip on a motorcycle?”
Adrian nodded. “Denn die Todten reiten schnell.”
“She’s not dead, but she does drive damn quick,” Harvey said, completing the bilingual pun. “Speed demons, both of you. Still, it was all on two-lanes… OK, here’s the possibilities…”
This stuff does make riding a motorcycle more comfortable, Ellen thought.
She was in a suit of tight leathers, canary-yellow with red trim, as they rumbled through the streets of Rancho Sangre at sunset. The wheels of the machine ground fallen cherry-blossoms under their treads. Cooking smells drifted from homes and restaurants; it was dinnertime, in the early-February gloaming.
I’m also less scared, she thought. For one thing, Adrienne didn’t drive like a complete maniac on the way back. And she hasn’t fed on me today.
“You didn’t need to be terrified and I wasn’t frustrated and angry at the world,” Adrienne said. “And while your blood is unfailingly delicious, I snacked elsewhere in San Francisco. Pretty drive on the inland roads too, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and I had more time to pay attention.”
“It comes to me that you are feeling less totally isolated and hopeless and psychologically crushed than I would have expected at this stage in our relationship,” the Shadowspawn said thoughtfully. “But I can’t quite tell why. It’s a pity. I am so looking forward to your abandoned misery and the transference and identification with the aggressor and so forth.”
“I… ah, sorry… Look, I could try to feel more crushed…”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, but there’s no problem. The full pleasures of your abject emotional degradation can wait. We’re not in a hurry. Anticipation has its own spice, and I’m a little busy right now anyway.”
Eurrrrk!
The motorcycle swerved inward in front of the police station, a blank wall of stucco with a gate of wrought iron; a round machicolated tower showed at one corner. Less than a minute after she kicked down the stand and took off her helmet to shake her hair free the police chief was standing at not-quite-attention on the sidewalk. He was a man in early middle age; Hispanic, Ellen thought, lean and grizzled. Beside him was the Englishman she had met before leading the patrol of Asian soldiers-Gurkhas, they were called. He gave her a small polite inclination of the head before standing at parade rest.
“There’s a problem, Captain Bates?” Adrienne asked.
“It’s Jamal, I’m afraid, ma’am,” the ex-soldier said. “Shortly after you left, he… went missing. He took hiking clothes and food and headed up into the high country. Southwest, I think.”
“Tsk,” Adrienne said. “That won’t do at all.”
Her head swiveled, the tousled black hair swirling about her shoulders; a frown of concentration grew between her brows.
Once they have tasted of your blood you are linked, linked forever, Ellen thought to herself.
“Yes,” Adrienne said, opening her eyes again. The gold flecks seemed to glitter. “Southwest. Not far, either. Working his way south through the hills on foot.”
“Suicide by cop, pretty much,” Mendoza said. “I told you we didn’t have to worry, Bates. I grew up here.”
The Englishman smiled, a thin, eager expression. “My men could use the practice tracking.”
Adrienne chuckled. “Oh, Captain Bates, this is Rancho Sangre of twenty-first-century California, not Tara in antebellum Georgia. We don’t chase people with bloodhounds and drag them back in chains. Besides, it wouldn’t be safe. Safe for your men.”
Looking over her shoulder, Ellen could see the corner of her grin. She turned her face, but not before she saw both men blanch a little.
“Safe, ma’am?” Bates asked carefully.
“There are large, predatory beasts in that area at night. Or there will be. Mankillers. Very dangerous.”
Despite herself, Ellen shivered and laid her head between the other’s shoulders.
Adrienne sighed and made a gesture with one hand, palm up and fingers cupping. “It’s a pity. Jamal… Jamal was so deliciously meaty. Like jerk pork. It was nice to have that on hand.”
I’m more like dessert, Ellen thought. Oh, Jesus. The poor man.
“You wouldn’t say poor man if you knew more about Jamal, ch?rie,” Adrienne cast over her shoulder.
The police chief cleared his throat. “The… preparations for your parents’ arrival are at the casa grande, Do?a. From San Simeon, this time. There will be no repercussions requiring your attention.”
“Oh, excellent, Chief Mendoza. I can always rely on you.”
“There was a child, I am afraid. A baby girl, perhaps four months. Jose’s mother is taking care of her.”
Wait a minute… a baby? “Good. We wouldn’t want the poor mite to be traumatized. Speaking of which, it’s fortunate you’re both here. We’re going to be having a bit of a gathering, a do, in May. About thirty to thirty-five guests, though I won’t know for sure until they RSVP. Plus their personal renfields, lucies in some cases, and other attendants. I’ll be contacting Paco for supplies and Theresa will be managing the household side, but you’ll need to put the usual preparations in hand for storing the refreshments. Please consult and organize. I don’t want any complications.”
Bates looked…
Professionally interested, Ellen thought. Mendoza, the policeman, he’s gone a little gray. Refreshments for a Shadowspawn house party… storing the refreshments… oh, Christ! “Immediately, Do?a,” Mendoza said.
“Ma’am,” Bates added. “That’ll be… about eighty?”
“That should do,” Adrienne said. “It’s a party, one shouldn’t stint.”
“And the wastage we can expect?”
“Around fifty percent, but it’s impossible to be precise; we can always use a few extra workers afterwards. I’ll try to arrange the shipments starting in mid-March. Do tell Dr. Duggan.”
She nodded to both, put her helmet back on and peeled off into the traffic.
I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask, Ellen thought, gripping her tightly. I’m not even going to think about asking.
“You’ll be much happier that way,” Adrienne agreed.
She pulled into Lucy Lane. “Ah, the weekly barbecue!”
A spicy, smoky smell came from Number Three, the babble of a crowd, and the sound of a guitar.
“Perhaps I’ll drop by for a snack myself later,” Adrienne said, reaching back and giving her a slapping pat. “Off you go, ma douce.”
“Hi!” Ellen said, putting her head in the open door of One Lucy Lane.
I’d like to have someone I know a little with me when I brave that crowd at Jose’s. New kid… new lucy… on the block and all that.
“I’m here!” Monica replied. “Kitchen! Come on in!”
Ellen followed the scents of baking and cooking to the steamy warmth. Monica was in her frilled bib-apron again, with her jacket slung on the back of a chair.
“Good to see you again,” Ellen said to her smile.
Which is actually true. I think she really is friendly. And she must be a basically strong person or she’d be a lot crazier than she is. Eight years with Adrienne! I’m feeling pretty crazed after that many days.
“Sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the setup, but I’ve brought a good appetite,” she said aloud. “We only stopped for a taco at lunch.”
“That’s what makes a barbecue a success-appetite! I’m just getting my contributions ready. The kids are already over there and things should really start in about half an hour.”
Monica stopped her bustle for a moment to eye the nile twinset and earth-toned skirt Ellen had changed into; the FedEx parcels had been waiting for her at Number Five.
“You had a shopping weekend,” Monica said brightly. “And a successful one.”
Her kitchen and dining nook had a lived-in look; scrawled crayon pictures by her children tacked up to a corkboard on a cabinet, dogeared recipe books, a slightly obsolete terminal fastened to the door of the refrigerator that had a couple of spots on the touch-screen, bowls soaking in the sinks. It smelled wonderfully of fresh bread and homemade mayonnaise and pimentos, and Ellen’s stomach twisted.
The mid-floor island had a series of dishes standing ready-green salads and potato salad in bowls covered in plastic wrap, a basket of crusty homemade baguettes with a dish towel over them, and plates of cookies glistening with half-melted chocolate chips and studded with walnuts.
“Isn’t Jean-Charles wonderful? I go up just for him a couple times a year, and more often so I’ll have an excuse to wear some of the things! Rancho Sangre is lovely but it’s not a real dress-up town. Peter and I go to the opera there, and sometimes Adrienne goes with us.”
“You like opera?” Ellen said.
Monica nodded. “I know I’m not a college graduate like you-” she began, sounding a little defensive.
Ellen made a wave to a halt gesture. “Monica, I’m the first person-well, the first woman-in my family ever to go to university. If I hadn’t been desperate to get out of Allentown for personal reasons I probably wouldn’t have gone. I’m a small-towner and all my family were coal miners and steelworkers for a hundred years. And housewives and secretaries and the odd elementary teacher or whatnot.”
Monica relaxed slightly. “Same here, SoCal version. I have some friends there in San Francisco, though it’s, well, difficult. But Jean-Charles makes you feel like you’re his little sister and he’s giving you advice.”
“Yes, actually, he was very nice,” Ellen said honestly. “I really enjoyed… part of that. We had a dinner with one of Adrienne’s Shadowspawn friends, and a lunch with her and another one and some… other lucies. That wasn’t as much fun. Though the food was great and I tried to concentrate on that.”
I’ll leave out the politics, and the threat of universal destruction, and Kai. Shit, I wish I could forget that little bitch! Not as scary as the Shadowspawn but even more revolting.
“Oh, you poor darling!” Monica stopped to give her a brief hug. “The other Shadowspawn, they’re awful. I absolutely hate the way they look at me. It makes me feel… all cold and alone and shivery inside. Though the Do?a would never let any of them hurt us.”
“Uh… yeah,” Ellen said.
Only she gets to hurt us. You can see how she and Adrian started in the same place. But the difference!
She frowned for an instant. It’s odd… I haven’t heard a thing about Adrian in days, but I feel like I know him better than I did before we broke up… as if the breakup didn’t happen, somehow. Things will be different, once I’m out of this. And I can’t just wait. I’ve got to keep looking for something I can do.
The other woman looked in the oven, shook her head, and murmured: “Not quite ready.” Then she went on: “So tell me all of what you did. Did you stop for a picnic on the way up?”
“Uh… yeah. Thanks for the stuff you packed for us. Adrienne did this berserk driving thing, frightened the bejesus out of me, and-”
“Fed on you while the blood was juicy and tingly,” Monica said succinctly. A reminiscent smile: “I think I know the spot. She’s done that to me, and before I realized that it was safe no matter how fast we were going I was terrified. Now it just scares me. Then I actually… well, she made me take off all my clothes and wash in the ocean before she drank the blood, and the water’s cold there. I was head-to-toe stark naked goose bumps right there on the beach while she fed. Thank God it was summer and even more that nobody came along!”
“I was going to ask you about the feeding thing, a bit,” Ellen said. “I’ve noticed that at first it just made me want to stay still-”
“But now you don’t feel so paralyzed, and it gets better and better?” A smile. “Starting to really like it, aren’t you?”
“Well… yes. I might as well, if it’s going to happen regularly anyway. I’m still scared spitless beforehand.”
“Oh, that doesn’t change. It’s more of a nice-scary for me now, but she still looks so… so predatory when she’s about to feed on you, doesn’t she?”
Ellen nodded. Oh, yeah. Because she actually is being predatory and you know she’s actually, really no-kidding going to bite you and drink your fucking blood. Aloud: “But while she’s drinking and for a while afterward it’s pretty nice.”
“That lovely drifting feeling when you feel like you love the whole world and everything’s so right? And the way the blood makes her face shine with happiness, that looks so beautiful too?”
“Mmmm, yes. What’s it like if she doesn’t bite you for a while?”
“Terrible,” Monica said matter-of-factly.
She poured them each a glass of white Zinfandel and sat at the kitchen table across from her.
“First, after four days or so, you just get… itchy and nervous and you can’t concentrate and it’s all you can think about. Then, after about a week, your skin feels like it’s going to crawl off of you and slither into a corner and cry. Then, after two weeks-that’s the longest it’s been for me-it still does, but you don’t care, because you feel like your best friend just died and it’s all your fault. Dr. Duggan says it gets better after that-she’s helped some lucies who got retired-but I’m not interested in finding out.”
“Ouch,” Ellen said. Sounds like quitting smoking, only worse. “Well, I asked.”
“That you did. I want her to go on biting me as long as possible. So what else happened?”
“We went to the town house.”
“God, isn’t it gorgeous? That heated infinity pool on the edge of the terrace, where it makes you think you can swim out over the city?”
“Yeah. And, um, we made out. I mean actually made out, not the… painful and really absolutely frightening stuff. A little feeding with that. I didn’t know if I could relax enough to actually get going, but I did.”
This time the smile was sly: “Like having a tiger in the sheets with you when she gets in that mood, isn’t she?”
“Ummm, yes. That’s just exactly what I thought.”
For good and bad. You can’t forget the claws and fangs are there, even when it’s purring.
“And oh, don’t the little nips of feeding add to it? You just wish it could all go on forever.”
“Except that your brain would explode and run out your ears or your heart would rip loose or something.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Monica said, then continued thoughtfully: “That part was hard for me at first. I was, you know, very shy and prudish and only twenty-one, and I was very religious then. For a while I thought I must be, you know, a bad person.”
“That must have been hard.”
A shrug. “Sometimes life is hard. We both know that. And I’m not a bad person, I think. I just… came to terms with things. I’d never been with anyone but my husband. And now I’ve never been with anyone but him and Adrienne.”
Ellen hesitated. Well, let’s be helpful and honest at the same time, she thought, and went on: “It wasn’t my first time with a woman, more like the third, but it was the first time it was more than, ‘Oh, this is interesting but not something I’d like to make a habit of.’ So I think it’s that Shadowspawn mojo at work.”
The more so because Adrian is also dynamite in the sack, even more so than his sister, but that would be oversharing. God, even better in bed than his sister. That’s an odd thing to be able to say. Or even think.
Monica nodded. “Well, it was never very exciting for me with Tom. I wondered what all the fuss was about. It was always over so quickly, and I wondered if other women were having a better time.”
A sigh. “Now that I look back on it all, I’m sort of regretful I didn’t try more to find out what I wanted. I envy you being able to go to college and have all sorts of experiences. I thought he was sort of, you know, small too…”
She made gestures with her hands. Ellen looked and said clinically: “No, that looks about average to me. Unless he’s deformed, size doesn’t really matter. A lot of men don’t have a clue and then, yes, it’s sort of dull from our point of view.”
“Oh, I know all about that.”
Ellen blinked at her. Didn’t she just say she’d onlyMonica chuckled, with the sly note back. “You know about the night-walking?”
“About how they can get out of their bodies and turn into wolves and tigers and birds?”
She laughed. “Silly, if they can turn into birds and things, it’s even easier for them to turn into other people. She likes to… come to us lucies… night-walking, sometimes. Not very often-she says she wants to enjoy her birth-body while she’s still got it-but every once in a while.”
“Oh,” Ellen said. Then…
Think of the implications, as Dr. Duggan said. Eerrrrk!
That must have shown on her face. Monica went on gently: “She can be anyone she’s bitten. The first time she turned into me right in the middle of things I nearly jumped out of my skin, let me tell you!”
“Ah… that would be extremely strange.”
“At first. After a while, it was sort of flattering. I knew I was pretty and had a good figure even after the kids, but that convinced me I was, you know, actually really hot stuff. And I felt so naughty. You can tell it’s her-the personality’s her, no doubt about it-but it’s really you, too. Or she could be you with me, or me with you.”
“Ah… yeah, I suppose it would be, umm, interesting.”
Errrrk! “And, of course, she can be a guy, night-walking.”
“She can? And-”
“Everything works, right. Anyone she’s bitten; Jose, Jamal, Peter, lots of others.” A giggle. “Except that it’s a guy who can read your mind, and knows exactly what it feels like from the other side as well.”
“That sounds…”
Oh, Jesus, Ellen thought, as her heart skipped in alarm. Keep calm, Ellen. It’s… well, yes, it is weird, but weird is now your normal, and you can deal with the icky part.
“… like it might be fun now and then.”
Monica nodded. “It’s always fun when she wants it to be, whatever shape she’s in. And when she wants us scared or hurt… well, then we just have to go with that.”
Yes, we do. But I got away from being hurt. And now I’m right back in it, only worse. And you’re in a position where you need to think it’s all right. I won’t think that. I just won’t.
There was a silence for a moment, and then Monica rose, looked in the stove again, turned it off and then faced around with her hands on her hips.
“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said.
Ellen blinked. “I never said-Monica, I never thought you were-”
“I’m not crazy either. I know she hurts me, really hurts me, and that’s going to happen sometimes. Whenever she feels like it. I just… I’ve decided to accept that. She cares for me in her way, but she needs to hurt. The Shadowspawn aren’t like us; they’re like cats and we’re mice. I was born a mouse, I just didn’t know there were such things as cats. OK, I’m a mouse, and I’m lucky my cat wants to play with me and not finish me off.”
“Do cats enjoy hurting mice?”
“Yes, they do,” she said flatly. “Adrienne told me. She can read their minds… well, their feelings.”
“Oh.”
Damn. I always hoped they didn’t.
“So I can take that, it’s not all the time. I’m not going to let it spoil my whole life. My life was over when I came here. I was going to end up homeless… I was homeless. I just didn’t know where to go or what to do or how to take care of my babies. Mom’s sister couldn’t have put us up, not for more than a few days. Things… things worse than anything that’s happened to me here could, would, have happened. And bad things are going to happen to the whole world. There are good parts to this, lots of good parts, and my children and I are safe. So there!”
“I’m not judging you, Monica. You’re doing what you have to do to survive, and this is my second time ’round. At least this time it isn’t someone I should have been able to trust absolutely.”
“Oh,” Monica said, then: “Oh.”
She put a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” A hesitation: “Does Adrienne know? Because… well, you know how it is about trying not to think of something…”
Ellen shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she does. She did that memory-searching thing on me the day after I got here, and I had flashes of things right back to when I was about four. It… started a long time after that.”
Monica put her fingers by her own temples and wiggled them. “Doesn’t that reading your memories thing make you itch inside your head?”
“Yes, it does… Monica, you’ve been very good to me. I think you were right that first day: we are going to be friends. Let’s get this stuff out and have a good time at the barbecue, shall we?”
Adrienne looked up and tossed aside her copy of Architectural Digest as the door opened. A nude Shadowspawn woman walked through onto the terrace, her face and forearms and breasts dotted with blood. Beside her sprawled and slithered a ten-foot Komodo dragon, three hundred pounds of reptilian predator with red-running serrated teeth.
“Bonsoir, Maman, Papa,” she said, embracing the woman and kissing her on both cheeks.
There was a faint tang of blood from the drops there-cooling, but still savory, like a slightly overripe banana.
“Bonsoir, Adrienne…” the woman said.
Then she looked down at the reptile, her tone becoming exasperated: “Oh, for the love of God, Jules, I know it’s your favorite new toy, but really! It smells!”
It did, of carrion and death. The great predatory lizard reared; there was a blurring, and it was a man on one knee with a hand touching the ground. He rose and returned Adrienne’s embrace gracefully; then the pair both stood while servants cleaned them with hot, scented damp towels and dropped loose robes like Adrienne’s over their heads. They and she had a family resemblance; the pair were a little below medium height, dark-haired and olive-skinned, with a look of vital, well-preserved early middle age.
Their eyes were hot gold, like pools of molten metal with darker flecks crawling through them in slow motion.
“Our baggage and servants should be here momentarily, Adrienne,” Julianne Br?z? said. “But it is great fun to fly in to the tower on one’s own wings. And the refreshments were lovely! I was always partial to blonds.”
“So am I,” Adrienne said. “I have an absolutely wonderful new one you must meet. She has the most interesting mind.”
“We heard,” her father said. “Stealing Adrian’s lucy! Not that the boy doesn’t deserve it, with some of the things he’s done. He always was a strange one.”
“He’ll come ’round eventually,” Julianne said. “He’s our boy at heart.”
She smiled, blood crimson on her teeth before she licked them clean.
“Those two were absolutely delicious… They were really very thoughtful of you, ma fille douce. And it was so sweet; the man kept trying to protect her, and she kept calling his name. Marvelous!”
“Chivalry is not dead,” Jules said. “Not Californians, from the accents?”
“No, my renfields picked them up for you… tourists at San Simeon, in fact. I’ve had them combing the possibilities, with the party in mind.”
“Ah.” Jules sighed. “The Enchanted Hill was such a pleasant place in its prime. A shame to think of it being overrun with gawkers.”
“There were some fabulous parties there when we were a newlywed couple,” Julianne agreed, and then laughed softly: “Particularly the parts that our host didn’t allow into the papers.”
Jules nodded. “What a pity William didn’t transition successfully. Still, he was genetically marginal-a tragedy more common in his generation.”
An attendant set out wine, bread, olive oil, a selection of cheeses and dried fruits and nuts. It would have been chilly for humans, but the Shadowspawn reclined comfortably around the table, nibbling and sipping, enjoying the jeweled arch of the heavens and the new moon. Wood burned in iron cages at the corners of the terrace, reflecting on the water of the pool below.
“So, what is this of Hajime invited to the estate?” Jules said. “Speaking of the party.”
“Oh, Jules,” Julianne said. “You’re not still angry with the man for killing us?”
“It was grossly offensive,” Adrienne’s father replied.
Adrienne smiled. “And you’ve been very good about living in a reclusive way down in La Jolla since then,” she said. “With me as public head of this branch of the family, the T?kairins felt… easy and un-threatened. But now… now I think it’s once more time for the Br?z?s to spread their wings here in California, a little.”
The molten eyes turned to Adrienne. “Oh, my darling girl, whatever could you mean?” her mother said. “We were simply taking our time adjusting to the postcorporeal state.”
White teeth gleamed in the night, and all three laughed. A servant’s hand shook a little as she poured more of the wine. A few red drops spilled on Adrienne’s wrist; she considered them and then slowly licked them up.
“We should talk. And then, if you have a taste for midnight flight, perhaps we could do some hunting together. There’s a little loose end you could really get your teeth into.”
“Let me give you a hand!” Peter said.
He took the big ceramic bowl of potato salad out of Ellen’s arms and put it on one of the picnic tables. Others jumped to take the rest of the precariously-piled loads from the two women. People were milling around the walled rear yard, and into the house through the sliding-glass doors. Japanese lanterns bobbed overhead, casting shifting light.
More than half of the attendees were apparently the Villegas clan, but a substantial number of Monica’s tennis and library-volunteer friends were there too, and their spouses and children. Fiona Duggan was attending, with a Chinese man a little younger than she. Most families seemed to have brought a dish, including enough cakes and trifles and empanadas to make her feel guilty just looking. The sheltered walled garden was comfortable if you had a jacket, but there was a constant traffic of laden plates into the house and empty ones coming out. Children ranged from teenagers-the male ones giving her wistful looks-to a small fair-haired baby being dandled and admired.
Oh. That’s where the… little girl from San Simeon went.
She was too young to cry much, though she looked around dubiously.
She’ll forget. She’s really too young to know her mother’s gone. And growing up a renfield… well, better that than some things.
The big brick barbecue pit smoked over the oakwood coals at the edge of a flagstone patio, with Jose presiding-or attempting to, as his father and uncles crowded around offering advice with bottles of beer in their hands. A long spike over one end held a yard of carne al pastor, thin-sliced pork loin dripping with little sputters and spurts of flame. Smells pungent and meaty and spicy drifted on the air.
Jose flourished a knife as long as his forearm and sliced off an edge from top to bottom onto a plate of tortillas. More of the flat wheat-breads warmed on a comal, a flatiron, supervised by Jose’s rather stout mother and a doe-eyed, strikingly pretty girl who was probably his sister from the way they teased each other. Chicken thighs and breasts and drumsticks sizzled, and some hamburgers and bratwurst, and steaks that smelled as if they’d been marinated in lime and garlic and pepper…
“The brats I brought, they’re one of Minnesota’s national dishes,” Peter said. “These things always turn into an amoeba party when Jose’s putting it on.”
“Amoeba party?”
“Multiplication by division. He has a lot of relatives,” Peter said. “Beer or wine? The Rh?ne de Robles is good, but…”
“Beer, thanks. More cooling!”
He fetched her one, a light pale ale from the Rancho Sangre brewery.
“Maria’s-Jose’s mother’s-adobo chicken mole is just great,” he went on. “And Frank Milson, he’s the husband of one of Monica’s tennis buddies, makes this amazing cowboy beans and bacon thing.”
She loaded her plate with everything he’d recommended, and a red chili tamale with shredded pork and an ear of roast corn, and circulated. That was prolonged by Monica dragging her off for a complete rundown on her hours at Jean-Charles’ establishment to an admiring and envious group. Evidently an outfit from him was a rare and coveted reward in female renfield circles, much less a complete wardrobe.
Then she returned to sit beside Peter and the doctor at the end of one of the outdoor tables, a folding model that was a little unstable on the clipped grass.
“Hello, Dr.-”
“I’ve been in America a generation now, Ellen. Fiona will do,” she said.
Then she grinned. “I’ve not brought any haggis, honest. Though it would have to be certified organic haggis here. You’ll find few towns this size with healthier populations.”
“I’ve noticed,” Ellen said. “Why… oh, of course… Fiona.” She nodded, with an odd smile.
It’s a show ranch, she thought. But a people show ranch. We’re the palomino horses and certified Angus cattle. Or… well, considering all those jokes they tell about sheep and shepherds, maybe we’re the cute bouncy waggle-tailed big-eyed fleecy flock of pedigree ewes and rams.
She concentrated on eating for a while; everything was good, and she’d gotten used to spicy in Santa Fe, where even the chocolates could have red chili.
From here a big pepper tree shut out most of the stars… and the lights of the casa grande over the wall and on its hill. There was a pleasant burble of voices, mostly talking in English but liberally flavored with Spanish words, sentences, inflections and occasional conversations. Ellen ate and let the ambience flow into her. It was more relaxed than she would have expected, and for a long moment she closed her eyes and imagined she was anywhere else.
What Peter was saying brought her back to reality: “… and I think I’ve got a handle on a really rigorous mathematical description of why the Power can’t affect some materials-”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Fiona said softly.
Peter blinked at her. “Why not? That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Indeed you are,” Adrienne said, and reached around Ellen for a forkful of the potato salad on her plate.
Eeeeek!
Ellen fought not to spill her food for an instant. The talk didn’t die at the Do?a’s presence, though it did drop several octaves. Ellen noticed a number of older people glance nervously at their teenage or young-adult children. Some of those were giving Adrienne the sort of glances usually reserved for the extremely cool; others looked a little apprehensive themselves. The Shadowspawn was wearing a loose caftan-like robe; it looked comfortable but not the sort of wear for stealth.
How did she sneak up on me like that? Did she- “No Wreaking needed. I just move very quietly when I want to, and you humans have the most terrible hearing,” Adrienne said to her.
I wonder how far away she can read thoughts? “That’s for me to know and you to worry about, ch?rie.”
And now I’ll never be sure if she’s standing behind me! “No, you won’t. Ah, that was a very nice shiver up the spine you had just then; it gave me this almost irresistible impulse to pounce on you. You’re such a flirt, Ellen!”
“Not intentional,” Ellen said tightly.
“As if that mattered, you teasing minx!” Adrienne snapped teeth at her playfully, then went on to Peter: “Though the good doctor has a point too. It’s occurred to me from time to time that my enthusiasm for things modern may be misleading me. That understanding the Power could have disadvantages. After all, we don’t really need to understand it to use it, and if other people understood it better than we did… that could be unfortunate.”
“Ummm…” Peter frowned. “Well, you could use it better if you could understand it.”
“Yes, but… you’re thinking about your work right now, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“And it might as well be in Swahili. I can read your thoughts but they’re meaningless to me, even the bits of what’s apparently English interspersed, and… is that some sort of graphic notation? Worse, because I could learn Swahili in a couple of weeks without particular effort. I couldn’t follow the mathematics and theory in your head without years of very hard work. It’s odd. I can decipher computer code easily enough.”
“I think that’s a different order of representation,” Peter said judiciously. “It’s not just knowing a language, it’s knowing a lot of facts in the language and understanding their relationships. Knowing English doesn’t make you an expert on Shakespeare. You could do physics, with enough time and work, I think. You pick up concepts well.”
“But the number of Shadowspawn who could is quite limited, while we can all use the Power. It’s the difference between being able to walk and being able to learn ballet.”
“Why… oh, yes, limited talent pool,” Peter said. “Bell curves.”
“You get the most fascinating spike of intellectual pleasure when you realize something, Peter. It’s part of what makes you interesting. Like one of those minimalist-cuisine dishes, with a little dab of ahi and a single artfully arranged French bean and a thin calligraphic drizzle of some sharp-tasting sauce. Ascetic, but a pleasure nonetheless.”
Ellen looked between them, puzzled. She’s not the only one listening to a strange language.
Adrienne turned to her for a second: “It doesn’t matter if only one human in ten thousand has a natural talent for physics. That’s still millions in total. For us one in ten thousand means one or two individuals in the entire race.”
“Oh,” Ellen said. She smiled. “Guess that shows why I’m cuisine bourgeois and not minimalist.”
“You’re very good of your kind, my sweet. Just as Monica and Jose are two varieties of honest American comfort food, like this potato salad or the carne al pastor.”
Peter nodded enthusiastically, sticking to the original thread: “And science requires a community of trained minds. Which is why I’ve been so slow here.”
Ellen winced; even on short acquaintance she’d noticed how he would follow a line of argument anywhere, once he had his teeth in it. And looking at Adrienne’s smile…
That’s an unfortunate metaphor.
The Shadowspawn nodded. “The last time we did anything like that was back in the nineteenth century, when Br?z? adepts researched how to bring back Mhabrogast from the fragments we had.”
“How?” Duggan said, obviously taking mental notes.
“Using reconstructive philology boosted by the Power… If you cut the possible answers down to a reasonable number, then the Power can tell which is most likely right, which gives you more information for the next deduction. That was scholarship, not real science, though.”
“Do you want me to stop the work?” Peter said anxiously.
“No,” Adrienne said slowly. “Not for now. It’s all in your head, after all.”
Then she smiled. “We can talk later, but I had some other topics in mind. Ellen has given me some interesting ideas on how we could pass the time agreeably. Drop by the casa in an hour or so and don’t plan anything but rest tomorrow. Dr. Duggan, a word with you. There’s a bit of an extra load for your clinic coming up, I’m afraid.”
The two moved off into a corner of the yard; Adrienne ate a tortilla wrapped around some of the pork loin as they spoke with their heads close together.
“Interesting ideas?” Peter said, looking at Ellen with his eyebrows raised.
What… Oh, God! “Ah… Peter, it’s not my fault-it’s really not my fault. I’m sorry!”
“What isn’t your fault, Ellen?”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them again despite the heat she felt in her cheeks.
“Ah… OK, there’s no way to say this without being embarrassed, at least not for me. I’m… well, I sort of like some kink stuff, some of the time. Fairly often. Nothing extreme! Not edgeplay.”
“Like?” he said curiously, and took a swig of his beer. “Really, it’s all right, Ellen. I’m not easily shocked either.”
“Ah… I’m a bottom. Ropes and chains. I like being tied up. Tied up and beaten with whips. Symbolic whips! Well, partly symbolic, they sting, but… It’s a game, Peter. All consensual, safe-words, that sort of thing. When Adrienne found my… my gear in my apartment, she thought it was hilarious. She ordered a duplicate set in San Francisco. God, we went in this shop and… I got all mine on the Internet before. I thought she was just going to use it on me, Peter. As a joke.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Well, whatever happens, it’s not your fault, Ellen.”
His mouth quirked. “Compared to direct Power jolts in your pain centers or sensitive parts, it’s probably not bad. See you later.”