Warrior Heart

by Laura Kaighn

  Jonny-Jean leaned forward on her stool. “Isn’t it unusual for a Kin to accept a new Bondmate just after losing one?”

  Dorinda shrugged in honest ignorance. “I’m not sure, actually. These were unusual circumstances. His Bondmate and I ...” She hesitated then swallowed regretfully. “Were close.”

  “Ah, I understand,” Jonny-Jean cut in, leaning back to drink from her mug. “You were lovers. Now that makes perfect sense.”

  “No, not lovers, J.J.” In her frustration, Dorinda chewed her lip and grew quiet.

  The woman patted her lap. “I’m sorry, dear. You did care for him, I can tell. You must still be grieving. Was he a good man?”

  Dorinda nodded not looking at the woman’s empathetic face. “He was bold and reckless. But he was also gentle, and ... Well, Vesarius made me laugh.”

  “Vesar!” J.J.’s dark eyes expanded at the moniker, then creased to slits.

  Dorinda recognized the shock there as well and defended, “Yes, he was a Vesar warrior.”

  “Oh, my dear, it’s a good thing you didn’t get involved with him. I assumed you were talking about a man.”

  Dorinda studied the woman’s distressed brown eyes and scowling lips. “What’s the matter with the Vesar?”

  “Nothing, my dear, nothing. So long as they stay to their own kind. They’re much too fierce and arrogant a race for my taste. They make excellent soldiers. But citizens?” J.J. huffed. “I’m suspect.”

  Dorinda felt her face heat. “J.J., just how many Vesar have you known in your lifetime?”

  “I’ve worked with two female Vesar, and I also know a warrior who works in Utica. All three are incorrigible perfectionists. They’re prone to sudden violence and severe mood swings. And the women are outright snobby.” Now J.J. tilted her head in challenge. “Dorinda, how long did you know your Vesar?” The woman’s scrutiny was critically tight, brows raised in authority.

  “I, uh ... Over two weeks.”

  “Two weeks! Honey, that’s not enough time to learn how to pronounce his last name. You didn’t get to see his dark side; that takes at least two months. Then you discover just how little they regard us humans.” Boudinot harrumphed. “The Tloni? Vesar spit on them as cowardly pups with a lot of hot air and no backbones. This Vesar male I know? He’s murdered three men, but he’s gotten away with it because he’s got some kind of diplomatic immunity here on Earth.”

  Dorinda continued to be on the defensive. “J.J., I’m sorry you feel that way about the Vesar. I found mine to be very noble ... and loyal to the Alliance.”

  “Did he ever hurt you?”

  Dorinda blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

  “Vesar tend to get physical when they’re angry. And they have wicked tempers. They’re strong too, can snap bones. I’ve been slapped around a few times by the one woman. See this scar?” Jonny-Jean tilted her head to show Dorinda the deeply rippled skin along her left jawbone. “Waneerath cut me with her Vesar blade when I wouldn’t prepare a meal exactly as she wanted. You see, I refused to handle a certain poisonous insect she insisted on using as a seasoning. One scratch from its tail would have killed me. Instead Waneerath tried to. That was twenty-eight years ago. Oh, yes, I have known Vesar only too well. It’s a blessing this warrior of yours died before he accidentally killed you.”

  Dorinda shared the woman’s regret. “I’m sorry if this brings back bad memories, but I believe your circumstances were isolated. The Vesar are peaceful now. In twenty-eight years things have changed. How long since there’s been a Vesar here in Old Forge?”

  “There’s one here now,” J.J. answered quickly. “I know nothing about him, nor do I wish to. I thank God he’s living out of town.”

  Dorinda was just as quick to defend Vesarius’ race. “But you haven’t met him. You haven’t talked to him. How do you know what he’s like?”

  “Oh, dear. I’m just a mature woman with a sullied past. Old-fashioned. If you wish to believe things’ve changed, fine. You’ll eventually realize how we’re all just like our ancestors inside.” Jonny-Jean pressed her fingertips against her heart. “In here we’re human, and Vesar are warriors. There’s no hiding a person’s heritage. You can’t change the wings on a butterfly, and evolution takes millions of years. Not thirty.”

  Silently Dorinda stood and carried her empty mug to the double steel sinks of the motel’s spotless kitchen. She paused there a moment before turning back to the woman. “Well, J.J., I’d better get to bed. It’s after ten now, and I want to be up early for that cottage rental.”

  “All right, dear. You sleep well. I’ll have coffee and bagels ready for you by seven. Good night.”

  “Good night, J.J.” Dorinda grabbed her duffle bag from the floor then pulled her room key from her jeans pocket. Walking out onto the narrow breezeway, she first dropped her Kin off in front of her room. Next Dorinda trudged inside. She flopped her buttocks down on the double bed with a tired sigh, murmuring a good night to her companions already coiled for sleep.

  After tugging off her sweater, Dorinda loosened the lacings on her Coleman hikers. Next came her jeans and a shower. Before climbing into bed, Dorinda cracked a rear window to allow the night hunter serenade an audience. Soon she was asleep amid the fresh air and sounds of her beloved woods.

  Dorinda’s dreams were peaceful, filled with images from her past. But by early morning, a more sinister vision disturbed her slumber. Standing over Dori was a shadowy figure, his black gaze filled with fury, fists clenched in barely controlled rage. Vesarius, I loved you, she told the dark warrior in her dream. Were we that different that you couldn’t love me in return? The apparition leaned into her, his eyes venomous pits. No, Vesarius. I … I didn’t betray you. Michael and I need each other because of you. You brought us together. Besides, how can you be angered by our happiness? You’re dead.

  The mahogany ghost bent to whisper in her ear, “I am not dead.”

  Dorinda’s eyes flung open. Instantly she rolled to search the darkened room. “Vesarius?” Fully awake now, Dori shivered from the cold and her previous disorientation. The air was still, like a frigid tomb. Climbing from her bed, Dorinda quickly shut the cracked window. She then scrambled back under the covers pulling them up to her chin.

  For many minutes Dorinda’s psyche refused to allow her the comfort of closed eyes. It had been a vivid dream. Her imagination. Vesarius was gone. J.J.’s story was just bothering her. Eventually Dorinda’s thoughts drifted to snatches of events both real and imagined. She slept until a sharp bark told her Tundra was awake.

  Stretching, Dori checked the electronic clock on the nightstand: six forty-two. “Damn.” She rolled from the bed and fumbled for her jeans and duffle bag. “J.J. said no later than seven o’clock.” Dorinda threw on her clothes. She marched out of her motel room onto the open porch. Tundra stood outside his tail wagging in greeting. Chirping an echoing good morning was Noah, his round head just visible above the arm of an adjacent Adirondack chair. “Hi, guys. Let’s go see the Hawthornes about our cottage.”

  As Dorinda trotted down the steps, to be enveloped by the morning mist, her eyes beheld the Old Forge of her memory. She froze, entranced. Time had stopped, for in the softened dawn light, the buildings and streets were still slightly neglected and rustic. Though the interiors may be equipped with twenty-second century amenities, Old Forge’s facade was the same. Instead the streamlined hovers parked beside the lake park’s covered bridge were the objects out of place. The contrast epitomized Dorinda’s predicament. She was at once in her past and in this future.

  Tundra’s urgent push down the street re-oriented her internal clock. “Yeah, boy. I’m going. It’s just that I feel like I’ve been dropped off home, my time. Even landed on my feet,” she observed then quickened her pace. Crossing the near empty street at the corner where the hardware store stood still closed, Dorinda guided her Kin to the house she knew was three blocks away.

  While her eyes soaked in the dewy surroundings, Dorinda soon reco
gnized more discrepancies that dissolved her illusion of timelessness. Beside each street-side parking space stood a squat, posted box with an electronic keypad for credit billing: parking meters. Dorinda shook her head. “No more money. That’s going to take some getting used to. Makes sense, mind you,” she argued to her Kin. “When you’ve got three races living together on dozens of colony worlds, each with its own government ...”

  Dorinda slowed when a white picket fence manifested out of the haze. As she crossed the street yet again, a young man came into view. In the front yard he was tossing a penknife at an sprawling maple. “Excuse me. Are you Danny Hawthorne?”

  “You got it.” The teen retrieved his knife then turned back to the woman and her Kin. “What can I do for you?” He threw the weapon again.

  “I need to rent a cottage, on Eighth Lake if possible, for a month perhaps longer. Ms. Boudinot, from the motel, told me to come see you or your father.”

  The jovial youth smiled and tugged his knife from the wrinkled bark of the ancient tree. Closing it, Danny dropped the blade into his front pant pocket. “Yeah, well my dad’s away on business for the month, so I’m keeping the books and doing some of his field work for him. Come on in.” Danny pushed back his long blond bangs and launched himself up the steps to the porch two at a time. Once Dorinda had stepped inside, Tundra and Noah sat down on the grass expectantly. “Those your pets? Never seen such a big otter before,” Danny admitted eyeing the two.

  Dorinda smiled from the open doorway. “They’re Kin Companions. Tundra, and the otter’s Noah,” she offered gesturing to her friends.

  “Definitely above the nom, Ma’am. Two Kin Companions for one person? I mean it’s unusual for anyone to even have one. They’re used mostly out on the frontier, for colonizing and terraforming. You from a colony world?”

  Dorinda shook her head and took the proffered wingback chair. “No,” she admitted. “I’m from an exploratory vessel.”

  “Whoa! Are you off from border patrols with the Orthops?” The boy’s eyes were wide with interest as he swung his leg up and sat on the desktop. Here was a future space traveler for sure.

  Dorinda decided she didn’t have time to indulge the young man’s curiosity. She wanted to see her home. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawthorne, but I do need to rent a cottage from you. Don’t you have to go to school soon?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. It’s just that we don’t often get Alliance servicemen, ah people, up here on vacation. They usually choose more exotic locations.”

  “I understand.” Dorinda steered the young man back to her cottage. “I’m interested in a specific cottage, one at the north point of Eighth Lake, near an old hermitage. There’re blue spruce planted in the yard.”

  “Yeah, I know that one. It’s the old Tanner house. You been there before, huh? Must have been a long time ago.”

  Dorinda blinked in sudden surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  Danny shrugged. “Cause I would have remembered such a pretty lady with an otter and a canine Kin.”

  “Thanks. I have been there before. It’s beautiful down by the lake this time of year. I wasn’t sure the cottage was still standing.”

  “Oh, yeah. My great grandfather bought it up at a sheriff’s sale. Renovated it himself. Fixed it to last, my dad says. Great-Granddaddy’s dog’s even buried up there. I guess it was his favorite property.” The boy waved himself off the tangent. “Anyway, it’s already been rented for a two month stay. But I can give you another one.” Danny dropped his nose into the large registry binder. “I have two more on the lake, out along 28.” When he peeked up again, Danny must have noticed her disappointed frown, because he changed the subject again. “It’s funny you should mention that cottage. Do you know the story about the Tanner house? Did my dad tell you?”

  Dorinda tilted her head unsure what to say. “A mystery … about a woman who disappeared in the woods a long time ago. It’s a ghost story, isn’t it?” Dorinda would get the truth now, she was certain.

  “No, not at all,” Danny attested setting down the registry and leaning toward her. “You see, she was abducted by aliens. My great grandfather told me the story before he died. I was only five, but I remember what he said. Tanner lived alone, and an alien crash-landed near her cottage. He took her hostage, using her as a shield to get back home. Great-Granddaddy thought she was used for experiments, you know, to find out our weaknesses so the aliens could later conquer us. But if there was to be an invasion, the Tloni saved us when they showed up thirty some years later. Everyone says the story’s bunk, but I think Great-Granddaddy just loved that woman and didn’t want her to be forgotten. So you decide whether it’s a ghost story or not, Miss ...”

  “Jade. Dorinda Jade,” she filled in with a smile and offering her hand. “Call me Dori.”

  Danny returned her handshake. “Call me Danny.”

  “Danny, I think your great grandfather had a wild imagination. Did he ever say what this alien looked like?” Dori swallowed a sudden lump of recollection. “I’m curious.”

  “All I remember is red skin and funny blood. His memory wasn’t so good. Dad told me Great-Granddaddy’d been shot in the head when he was around forty, messed up his brain a little is all. Great-Gran was one hundred fifteen years old when he died.”

  Dorinda couldn’t halt her exclamation. “Wow! Dan almost made it.” He had lived just years short of seeing her again. She remembered Dan’s young, suntanned and freckled face. Too young for her. Too old. Now gone. A sudden sadness filled her. Dan had loved her, and he had taken care of the house and Casey when she hadn’t returned.

  “Miss Jade?”

  Dorinda raised glassy eyes to the deputy’s young great grandson. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Yeah. Great-Gran almost made what?”

  Dorinda thought quickly to recover from her faux-pas. “Oh, the ... world record for longest life.”

  “Maybe at the time; I don’t know. The oldest person around here is a woman who’s a hundred and twenty-two. She stills plays miniature golf on the weekends. Can you imagine that?”

  Dorinda chuckled. “That’s extraordinary.” She saw Danny check his wrist chronometer and sobered. “If you don’t mind, who’s rented the Tanner cottage? For two months you said?”

  Danny nodded. “Yeah. A Vesar in from the frontier. I think he asked for it too. Don’t recall him saying he’d been there before. What’s the matter?”

  Dorinda had clutched her sweater. She felt the pounding there as her heart first fluttered wildly then plummeted to her gut. “The one J.J. mentioned. He’s at my cottage?”

  “Yup. I think he likes to be alone. He’s only been to town twice the whole month he’s been here. Ordered some herbs, and a piece of custom-made jewelry, if you can believe that. Very unusual.”

  “Did he say who he was? Where he’s from?” Dorinda’s heart wouldn’t stop racing even though her mind demanded it. Vesarius was dead; the Pompeii’s scanners had confirmed it.

  “Truth around here’s pretty slim,” Danny answered. “Lots of nonsense gossip. But my girlfriend might know. She filled out his order at Howard’s General. Can’t see her while she’s working. Got into trouble with old man Howard last week for sweetin’ in the back room. Absolute minimum, Ma’am, not being able to see your beauette.” The young man checked his watch again. “Damn crazy. I’ll be late for homeroom!” Leaping from the desk, Danny hit the floor running. “Sorry, Miss Jade!” he hollered over his shoulder. “I’ll be back at three o’clock if you still want a cottage.” The boy scooped up his book bag from the front lawn as he went. Dorinda watched Danny Hawthorne jog through the gate and off down the street. Soon he was gone around the corner, Tundra barking after him.

  Dorinda swallowed dryly. Another Vesar in her house. A coincidence? But then her cottage was private, halfway between Eagle Bay and Raquette Lake. If one wanted both solitude and convenience, her cottage was ideal. Dorinda rejoined her Kin on the Hawthorne’s front lawn. “I used to like
to be left alone myself,” she said aloud for their benefit and guided them back toward the motel. “Well, that was a wasted trip. We’ll have to come back at three o’clock.” Along the way, Dorinda filled her Kin in on the accommodation possibilities. “At least he’s got a couple of cottages where we can stay.” As Dorinda climbed the steps to the motel’s front porch she contemplated their next move. “Let’s get some breakfast. Then I’ll take you up to Black Bear Mountain. After our space venture, we all deserve a quiet hike in the woods.”

  Minutes later, sitting in an Adirondack chair on the verandah, Dori nibbled her cream cheese covered raisin bagel and sipped J.J.’s freshly brewed coffee. She remained silent and contemplative, however. Beside her, Noah licked his bagel pushing it around the wooden decking until his whiskers and muzzle were stenciled sticky. Meanwhile Tundra had just finished chomping down his second and was soon crunching on some Winesap apple slices Dorinda cut for him with her pocketknife.

  Once breakfast was completed, and Noah wiped clean, Dorinda said her good mornings to Ms. Boudinot. Together the trio next headed for their hover. With her duffle stowed in back, Dori settled into the driver’s seat to contemplate the ride ahead. The trailhead to Black Bear was not far from her former home. It would be a route well-known yet new and uncertain.

  Chapter 15: Full Disclosure

  Driving north on Route 28 out of Old Forge, Dorinda was conscious of the familiar landmarks from her past and those which were absent. She tried to convert the small neon kilometer markers to the standard miles of her memory. “A mile is a little more than one and a half kilometers,” she calculated aloud. “My cottage would be about twenty-six kilometers from town. Just a little farther than the Black Bear Mountain trailhead.” Once she reached Eagle Bay, Dorinda made a left onto the Uncas Road, now paved in blacktop. This was a new century, after all.