by Cate Tiernan
Kevin looked back at me. “Well, he seems to have it bad for you.” There was a question behind his words, but I couldn’t go into it. I shrugged and shook my head.
Richard was grinning at me, the jerk, and I gave him a careless smile and wave. He’d come over twice to help with the windows, after all. Luc I ignored. I turned back to my coffee and took a long, slow sip, trying to get myself together. My heart was pounding, and my cheeks felt hot. I felt Kevin still looking at me, but I took another couple of moments to get a grip.
I swallowed hard, feeling like a wave had just rushed me off my feet at the beach. Oh God, I still wanted him so much. Loved him so much. I just loved him, wanted to be with him, to have him hold me. Wanted him to be mine, like he said he was, and for me to be his. My whole body was flooded with memories of Luc, how he felt, how he tasted….
Of course, Clio had those same memories.
I swallowed again and looked up at Kevin with a bright smile. “This has been really great,” I said. “Do you think—would you want to go to a movie sometime?”
Kevin looked happy, and I felt better. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. Maybe this weekend? Should I call you?”
I wrote down Petra’s number for him, and he put it in his pocket. I still felt awkward, still felt Luc’s presence, and absently I reached over to trail my fingers in the little fountain on the window ledge. Then, out of nowhere, a rhyme popped into my head.
Let me choose a path of light
When my world is dark as night
When my heart is so forlorn
And love feels like a rose’s thorn.
I am sunlight, I am shade
For love’s sweet kiss my heart was made.
But down that path my heartache lies
Hidden in my lover’s eyes.
It was a spell, I knew, but I had no idea where it came from or why. Or what it would do. It didn’t exactly seem to have a point. A spell. Quickly I looked around, expecting the mirror over the counter to shatter or people’s computers to start shooting sparks. But all was quiet.
“Uh,” said Kevin.
I looked up at him to see him blinking dully at the table, then he started to slump sideways out of his chair.
“Kevin!” I got up quickly and grabbed his shoulders, easing him back into his chair. He felt slender and hard, like a statue, and he shook his head to clear it. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.
“Yeah,” Kevin said, more strongly, and he blinked several times and sat up straighter. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know what happened,” he said apologetically. “I just suddenly felt … weird. Sorry.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’m just sorry you feel bad. Do you think something’s wrong? Are you getting sick?”
“I’m fine now,” said Kevin, and he looked it. “I don’t know what it was, but it’s over.” He smiled at me and I rubbed his shoulder.
“Why don’t we just go?” I said, getting my purse. “I need to get home anyway—I told Clio I’d help her start dinner.” It felt so great to know that someone was expecting me home, that I had someone I needed to check with. Someone cared about me.
“Okay.” Kevin stood up, and he looked fine, no hint of dizziness or anything. As we were leaving the coffee shop, I couldn’t resist glancing back quickly, just once, at Luc and Richard.
They were both watching me, and they both had odd expressions on their faces. Richard was looking at me with surprise and wariness, but Luc just seemed completely still and focused on me, as if he were an explorer and I were a new species and if he made any sound, I would run off.
Which I was going to do anyway.
I turned around and followed Kevin out of the café. Only I could pack so much emotion and anguish into getting an iced coffee.
You Yourself Want More Power
Daedalus looked at Axelle, lying on the couch, reading a magazine, and tried to keep the displeasure off his face.
He failed miserably.
She felt him watching her and looked up. “What?” she said, sounding irritated.
Well, he was irritated too. “There’s work to be done. Why are you lying there reading that mindless drivel?”
“This is my house,” she said flatly. “I do what I please.”
“There are more useful things you could be doing,” Daedalus said. “We’re working toward a common cause. Your part used to be housing Thais until we were ready for her. What is your part now?”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “I bet you’re dying to tell me.”
“There are all sorts of things you could be doing for me!” Daedalus said. “I asked you to go to the little voodoo shop on Rampart Street, but you refused.” He swung to look at Jules, standing in the kitchen. “And yes, you went, but you acted as if you were doing me a big favor. Do I have to remind you that we’re all working together? I can’t do everything myself.”
“Yet you want to make all the decisions yourself,” Axelle said coolly.
Daedalus was dumbfounded. Was she forgetting that he was the leader? He was always the leader. But he had always shared everything, given people important roles to play. “Did we or did we not agree that we were a team? That the three of us would get this thing done? I am trying to get this thing done.” He looked down at Axelle. “What are you planning to contribute?”
Axelle looked at him, her eyes black and cold. “I’m not a servant girl, Daedalus. I’m not an apprentice. I agreed to be part of a team. I didn’t agree to be your gofer, running about fetching you cold drinks while you run everything from your throne.”
Quick anger rose in Daedalus, and with effort he damped it down. “You know,” he said, almost to himself, “I’d forgotten it could be like this. But it’s all coming back to me—the years I spent in Europe, traveling, learning. I met people, people who could contribute as much as I could. Useful people who understood the give-and-take of a working relationship.”
“I wish you’d stayed there,” Axelle muttered. She swung her legs off the sofa, leaned forward, and lit a cigarette.
“Now I find myself saddled with witches who have made no forward progress in a hundred years,” he said bitingly. “It’s unbearably frustrating. Don’t you see? I’m doing this for all of us, not just me. I’m trying to satisfy your agenda. Not just mine.”
Axelle stood up, facing him. “But it’s your agenda that really matters, isn’t it, Daedalus? You say that this is for everyone, but we don’t really know that, do we? Face it—you’re putting this together, this whole thing in motion, because you yourself want more power. That’s what you want. If it works out for the rest of us, fine and dandy. If not, well, at least you got your power.”
Daedalus was almost speechless. “How can you say that!” Axelle turned away from him and stalked toward the kitchen. He followed her. Jules was watching them both as he carved off slivers of Brie and layered them neatly on crackers.
“How can you say that!” Daedalus repeated angrily. “I’ve involved you from the beginning! I didn’t have to bring you in on this, arrange to have you get Thais. I could have asked anyone else! I chose you because you’re a valuable person to have on the team. I knew I could depend on you, trust you. Now Thais is under Petra’s influence, and instead of throwing yourself into the thousand and one other things that need doing, you’re sitting on your pretty ass, smoking cigarettes and reading magazines!” His voice ended in a roar, and Axelle turned, her beautiful, porcelain face flushed.
“I am valuable to you, Daedalus,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “But I don’t think you understand how much. I’m willing to do my share if I’m an equal member of the team. I am not willing to be your errand girl, running to the store to get dried snakeskin or skullcap at your bidding. Get your own damned ingredients. For that matter, get your own food, your own alcohol, and your own car.” She stepped closer to Daedalus, her chin raised to him. “Because right now, you’re feeling a lot like
a parasite.”
Daedalus thought he would choke with rage. “A p-parasite!” he sputtered disbelievingly. “That’s bloody ironic, coming from you! You, who’s never lifted—”
“Hold it!” Jules had stepped forward, physically placing himself between Daedalus and Axelle. “Both of you! Stop it! You’re tired and frustrated. You don’t want to do this.” Daedalus looked at him, so angry he could hardly speak. “Look,” Jules went on, “the three of us are in this together. We need each other. You know how difficult it would be to pull this off if we three can’t form the base for the others to lean on.” He stepped back, looking from one to the other. “Let’s take a break for the rest of the day. Tomorrow we’ll meet back here, and we can calmly talk everything out, get everything on the table. Récolte is on Sunday—we’re having a circle then. If the three of us can’t present a united front then, this whole plan is doomed. Understand?”
Daedalus took a step back, forcing his hands to unclench. Jules might have something there. Best to let everyone calm down. No doubt they would be more reasonable tomorrow. He nodded stiffly and headed to the door, letting himself out.
Outside, the air seemed heavier and stiller than usual. The scent of the river, two blocks away, was pervasive. Perhaps there would be a breeze up on the riverfront. He would walk up there and see, sit on a bench, watch the tugboats go by. That always soothed him.
Daedalus turned right, waiting for a horse and carriage to pass before he crossed the street. He hoped Axelle would come to her senses by tomorrow. If not, the whole thing would become unbearably unwieldy and difficult. And where were Marcel and Claire? They were ignoring his repeated summons. The two lone holdouts. His lips pressed together grimly. So far he had been playing nice with them, with Axelle and Jules, with everyone. But if things didn’t fall into line soon, he would have to be more … persuasive. As for Marcel and Claire, it was definitely time for them to be called home by more forceful means.
Crying Was Pointless
Manon looked over at Sophie. She’d been sitting in front of her computer all morning, but for the last hour, she hadn’t moved, hadn’t typed anything. Her body was there, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Manon lifted her hair off her neck and stretched. Usually she could trust Sophie to tell her everything on her mind, share everything with her. She loved that about Sophie, how her face was so open, her emotions so transparent. But lately Sophie’s face had been closed. She’d been distant. Ever since Manon had made her terrible admission.
Getting up, Manon came and hugged Sophie from behind. She leaned over so her head rested on Sophie’s shoulder and put her arms around Sophie’s waist. Sophie smiled and turned her head to Manon’s. Manon curled one hand around Sophie’s head and kissed her gently. She looked deeply into Sophie’s artless brown eyes.
“What secret are you keeping from me?” she whispered.
“Nothing.” Sophie shook her head.
“This is me,” Manon persisted gently. “You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t want you to die,” Sophie blurted, then looked away. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
Manon sighed and rested her head against Sophie’s. At least Sophie was finally ready to talk about this. “I’m sorry if that hurts you,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you—I love you so much.”
Sophie was still looking at her with wounded eyes. No one did wounded eyes better than Sophie.
“Sophie, you just don’t understand what it’s like, being me.”
“I do understand,” Sophie said, standing up. “I know it’s frustrating—”
“It’s so much worse than frustrating,” Manon cut in. She gestured to herself, her slender, boyish body. “Look at me. I got frozen when I was thirteen years old. I don’t even look like a teenager. And worse, I got frozen over two hundred years ago, when average heights were shorter. I’m four feet, six inches tall. I’ll never look like a woman—it’s almost impossible for me to feel like one.”
“Manon, there are many grown women who are your height,” Sophie said. “It’s not as if you’re a freak.”
“Please,” Manon scoffed. “We’re all freaks. But Richard and I have it hardest. You know we do. I can’t stand looking like a child. Women’s rights—such as they are—have come a long way in the last hundred years, but I don’t even have those. I can’t buy property or wine or get into R-rated movies without you. I can’t drive a damn car. I can hardly do anything without you. I’m so dependent on you, it makes me crazy.”
“Is that what—?”
“Yet, thank the goddess I have you,” Manon interrupted, pacing around the room. “Where would I be if I didn’t have you? Can you even imagine? And what if you were a man? What if I loved you and you were a man? You would have been arrested a long time ago. There would have been no way for us to be together. People would think you were a pedophile. It’s horrible. It turns our whole relationship into something twisted, something sick. Anyone who looked at us, you, a grown woman, me, looking this age, and knew we were lovers—it would be this horrible, unnatural crime in their eyes. I can’t stand it! Not anymore.”
“There are people who’d think it’s sick and unnatural for us to be lovers even if they knew we were both way, way over twenty-one,” Sophie pointed out.
Manon shook her head. “I’m doing it again,” she said. “How many times have we had this exact same conversation? I rant about the same stuff, you say the same placating things—but don’t you see? We’ll be having this talk—I’ll be having this problem—for the rest of my life. God, Sophie—it’s just too long. Unbearably long.” She held her cold can of soda against her forehead, trying not to cry. Crying was pointless. She’d been crying over this for more than two centuries and it hadn’t gotten her anywhere. There was only one thing that would help.
Sophie came closer and put her hands on Manon’s shoulders. “I know you’re in pain. I see it, I see what you live with and go through. But you know I depend on you just as much as you depend on me. You know I would be just as lost without you. Can’t I … don’t I … aren’t you happy enough with me to make it worthwhile to stay? I try to make you happy; I want you to be so happy with me that none of this will matter.”
Manon heard tears in Sophie’s voice. “You know I’m happy with you,” she said quietly. “There’s no one else who could make me happier. But how can I be part of a happy couple when my life is such a nightmare? I feel that way more all the time. What can I bring to you, to us, if I feel that way? In another decade, it will have made me stark raving nuts. And you’ll be trapped with me, this embittered, crazy, desperately unhappy child/woman. How could you bear it? How could I bear doing that to you?”
Sophie was openly crying now. “Don’t say that,” she said. “How can you say that? I would love you no matter what! You look like a woman to me. You look like the only woman I’ll ever want. But you want to leave me, to leave me alone forever!”
Manon put her arms around Sophie, feeling her sobs. She rested her head on Sophie’s shoulder and held her tight, rocking her gently, stroking her long brown hair. “Forever is a long time to be alone,” she said softly. “But it’s a longer time to feel hopeless and wretched.”
“No.”
Thais turned to look at me. “What?”
“No,” I said again, crossing my arms. “You may not go out on a fricking date wearing that. I mean, holy mother, what’s wrong with you?”
Thais looked at herself again in the full-length mirror. “Why can’t I wear this?”
“Because you look like a Girl Scout selling cookies.” I shook my head in disgust. Identical, schmidentical. Clearly I had inherited every bit of fashion sense between us.
“What should I wear, then?” Thais sounded irritated, but I was already heading for my closet. Tonight she was going out on a real date with Kevin LaTour, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to make sure those two lovebirds hit it off. Given how much we looked
alike, it was a nightmare for me to see myself dressed in a plain white T-shirt and a knee-length denim skirt. For a date.
Fortunately, my closet was chock-full of clothes that would make Thais look like the hottie I am. Thais followed me into my room and sat on the bed. I glanced at her as I considered various options. We’d been doing laundry all week, sometimes washing things two and three times to get out the smell of smoke. “We’re going for hot and available, but not slutty,” I said, holding up a peasant blouse made of thin, crinkled cotton. I held it to my face and breathed in. Only the scent of detergent.
“Oh, good,” Thais said dryly.
I looked at her. “Are you nervous?”
“I don’t know. Not really, I guess. Kevin’s really nice.
She didn’t sound hyper with enthusiasm, and my chest tightened. The more she liked Kevin, the less Luc would mean to her. It wasn’t that I wanted him for myself, that bastard, but something mean inside me just wanted Thais not to care about him anymore, as if that would somehow make him more mine. It was ugly, but it was there.
I tossed the peasant blouse over to the bed. “Put that on.”
“How is this better than what I’m wearing?” Thais asked, pulling off her shirt.
“For one thing, it’s just prettier, with all the embroidery. It looks girly, unlike your dockworker T-shirt. For another thing, all that elastic around the top makes guys feel like they can just tug it down.”
Thais froze. “Ew!”
I shrugged. “You don’t have to let ’em. But it puts the idea in their mind.”
“And I would want that why?
I sighed and shook my head, then found a black miniskirt that looked great with that top. “Just put this on and listen to the master.”
Thais held it up. It came to mid-thigh. “And how do I sit down in this?”
“Let it ride up.” Honestly, the girl was hopeless.
“How do I pick up something I drop?”