by Kim Harrison
“You’ve only been farming without horses for forty years out of thousands.” Clearly warm again, Orchid darted up, her hands on her hips as she inspected the atomized demon fat on the ceiling until she realized what it was and flew to the windowsill, clearly shaken. “The only good human is a dead human,” she said as she landed next to the tomato sitting there. An entire field of them lay beyond the thick glass, out of her reach with the door closed.
“Everyone needs humans, Orchid. Besides, I don’t want the enclave angry at me.”
Orchid ran a hand over the tomato, then rubbed her hands, a frown on her face. “Why would they be mad at you? She’s the one who tweaked it.” She looked at her fingers as if they were dirty. “Dude. This tomato is fuzzy.”
“If I can’t prove that her tweaks to the tactical virus are faulty, I’ll never be able to prove her theory to use donor viruses is dangerous,” he said as he shoved his chair over to the shelf to look at the tomato. “And it is.” He took it up, seeing that it was, indeed, fuzzy. It was irritating. That her fix was perfect, not that her tomato was fuzzy. His research to save their species would falter and die without funding, a surety if he couldn’t bring Trisk down.
Orchid stood at his eye level, her wings drooping as he felt the fuzz between his fingers. It must be part of what made the tomato so drought resistant. “How can it be any good? It’s fuzzy,” she said, and he set it back down.
“It’s put together even tighter than Daniel’s virus,” he muttered. Somehow, she’d taken a sterile tomato cultivar that had most of the required traits, bettered it, and then gotten it to breed true. He could almost hear his work slipping into obscurity, and his chest tightened. He couldn’t save his species if he had no lab, no funds. Her work can’t be better than mine.
Frustrated, he pushed himself away from the shelf, the chair rolling back under the demon smoke ring and to the other terminal. He’d been searching the mainframe all night, and he still hadn’t found any hint of the universal donor virus she must have used to accomplish it. If he could find that, he could prove it was unsafe. Maybe.
“Mind if I give it the pixy test?” Orchid said, and Kal shook his head, his fingers a fast staccato on the keys as he went to the main menu to search again. “Smells good,” the small woman said behind him. “Not so sure about the fuzz.” Kal started, surprised, when he heard her punch it, and smiled at the obvious smacking of her lips. Unless Orchid had found something in the corridor, she hadn’t eaten in several hours.
“Mmmm. Sweet and tart. It can be as fuzzy as it wants if it tastes like this.”
“Great,” he said sarcastically, then stiffened, startled at the beeping door panel. Spinning in the chair, he gestured Orchid into hiding.
“Maybe it’s that cleaning lady,” the pixy said as she flew across the office to hide among the reference books.
Kal stood to wave her dust to nothing, but his face flamed when Trisk walked in, finding him looking just like the thief he was. “Trisk!” he exclaimed, holding a sneeze against the dust.
“I knew it.” Hip cocked, Trisk narrowed her eyes. “This is low, even for a Kalamack.”
Kal pulled himself upright, his gaze running over her. She was just as slim, just as dark, just as angry as he remembered, looking markedly casual in bell-bottom jeans and a bright halter top that showed off her curves. “I have every right to be here,” he said. “Rick—”
She came in, and he stumbled back, wanting to keep distance between them.
“Get out. It’s not yours until Monday,” she said, pointing to the open door.
“Rick knows I’m here,” he said. “I have every right—”
“Flagro!” Trisk shouted, and Kal ducked, hardly even feeling her tap a line, much less marshal it into a spell.
“Hey!” Ducking, Kal deflected the spell into the glass window, where it hit with a wet splat to spread out into a flickering greenish-gold glow that mimicked her aura. With a final hiss, it dissipated to leave nothing. “Ulbrine sent me!” he exclaimed, strengthening his hold on the ley line. He’d forgotten how wickedly quick she was. “Will you relax?” Orchid was peering out from between the books, and he hoped to heaven that she stayed where she was.
“Relax?” Lips pressed, Trisk kicked the door closed behind her. “You ruined any chance of me landing a good job, and now that I’ve made something of myself, you think I’m going to step aside and let you take credit for it?”
“Stop throwing that shit at me,” he said, dodging another ball of unfocused energy. It hit the floor and smoldered. Not unfocused, then, he thought, wondering if she was using black magic. That nasty glob bubbling against the tile looked ominous.
“Will you listen?” he said, then frantically brushed at a spell fragment that had scorched his pant leg. Stay hidden, Orchid, he thought, not wanting to know which was faster, the pixy or Trisk’s spells.
“Daniel’s project is perfect,” Trisk said, her long ebony hair almost floating with the unharnessed energy flowing through her. “How dare you think you can come in here and find holes in his research.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Leno cinis!” she shouted, shoving a wad of green-tinted, aura-laced energy at him.
“Trisk!” Kal darted out of the way, then gasped when the spell hit his printout and the ream of paper burst into flame. “Will you knock it off?” he said, shoving it to the floor and using his suit coat to put it out. A sliver of panic iced through him. He was outclassed. He couldn’t beat her with magic. But elves’ greatest threat had never been outright force, but guile, and he’d gotten better at that the last couple of years. Maybe enough to do more than survive her.
“I said I agree!” he said again, still beating the flames off the paper. “I agree! Daniel’s research is top-notch. Stop trying to burn everything!”
Kal’s expression eased in the sudden silence, and he cautiously stood. She was glaring at him, her feet spread wide and brow furrowed. “You agree?” she said caustically.
Kal edged away from the smoldering paper. “I agree,” he said. “Dr. Plank’s virus is perfect. I can see your handiwork in it, and it’s an exquisite use of the materials and systems available to you. I’m impressed. I can’t make it better. Or safer.”
Trisk shifted her weight, clearly not trusting him. “All the more reason you shouldn’t be putting your name on it.”
He backed up, glancing at the monitor with its incriminating message of FILE NOT FOUND in line after line. “I looked at your T4 Angel files as well,” he said, and she stiffened. “It’s beautiful in its simplicity. I understand it’s been in the field for over a year. Turning enough profit to entice a global farm to buy it. It’s all they’re planting in Africa and Australia. Rick says it’s going to end their famine.”
Trisk’s attention flicked to the shelf of reference books and back again. Her eyes were narrowed in mistrust, but her hands had lost the rim of concentrated aura. “You honestly think that pap is going to work on me?”
“Maybe I grew up,” he said, wishing she’d relax a little. “The last few years . . . It’s hard going from a small pond to a large one where everyone thinks you’re riding on your family’s coattails.”
Her expression went empty, and excitement zinged through him. Ulbrine was right. There was power in the soft word, the gentle compliment. “I’m not afraid to admit I’m wrong anymore,” he said, twisting his lips into a rueful smile. “It gets easier when you’re wrong a lot, and I was wrong. A lot. You belong in a lab, not in the hallway protecting it. What you did with the Angel was beautiful. Imagine what you could do in a real facility.”
Her eye twitched, but she kept looking back to the shelf where Orchid was hiding. “I’m not showing you my universal donor virus studies,” she said flatly.
Kal raised a hand in placation, head bowed. “I wish you’d reconsider. Especially if they’re anything like what you did with the tactical virus.” He smiled. “Does Dr. Plank know you modifed his virus?”
> She shifted uncomfortably. “Of course. And why should I trust you? I’m not a human whose work can be stolen with impunity.”
“I agree, but what good are your theories doing here?” he protested. “You can’t publish them in a human journal. You’re generations ahead, and if you do, you’ll never be allowed to work in an elven lab again.”
“Like I’m allowed now?” she said, gesturing at the outdated technology she was forced to use. “Get out. Before I throw you out.”
“I’m just going to come back on Monday,” he said, even as he edged to the door, wiggling his fingers at Orchid to stay where she was. “The enclave sent me to look at your universal donor virus. They think it has an amazing potential.”
Trisk put her arms over her chest, poised belligerently. “Out.”
“Just . . . let me explain,” he said as he paused by the door, and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I came to check Daniel’s research and make sure your modifications are foolproof, but after seeing how stable it is and what you’ve done with the tomatoes . . .” He hesitated, looking at the ceiling as if pleading to the gods to give him the words to convince her. “Trisk, show me your universal donor. If it’s as good as I think it is, Sa’han Ulbrine will want you to come back—not just your research, you.” Which was all true, even if none of it would happen if he got his way.
Trisk blinked, a shocked amazement on her face as she took her attention from the bookshelf. “What?” she managed, her voice sounding nothing like her, soft and low instead of hard in threat. He’d never heard her voice gentled like that, and he thought it was pleasant, tripping down his spine like warm sand. “They want me to develop my donor virus?”
“How about it, Trisk?” he asked, vowing he’d sabotage the dangerous idea into obscurity before it got anywhere close to being developed. “You could work in a real lab with real resources and people you don’t have to hide yourself from.”
Her lips were parted, and he followed her gaze to a grainy color photo of a lab get-together. She and Daniel were arm in arm, silly party hats on their heads. Rick had said he had a thing for her, and since the man looked like an elf, it was a good bet Trisk had a thing for him. It was hard to leave perfection.
“I know you miss us, Trisk. It won’t be school all over again. I promise.”
She was flushed, her gaze sharp as it fell on him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Fair enough. How about we go for coffee? You and me. We can talk about it.”
Trisk’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not telling you anything about my research.”
The harsh tone was again in her voice. Bringing back the softness would be a challenge—one he wanted to accept. “Fine.” Kal raised a hand for patience. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why would today be different from any other day?” she said, and then her expression shifted. “What is that smell?”
“I’m sorry for what I did,” Kal said forcefully as Trisk strode over to the shelf where Orchid hid. “I was stupid and insensitive.”
“You spelled my hair blond,” she said, intent as she took first one book down, then another. “Do you have any concept of how embarrassing that was? I was ten, Kal.”
His lips curled up at the memory. He’d done it on a dare. She’d looked awful, worse than he’d ever imagined. Dark elves were built differently, and seeing those fair wisps on her only accented her strong features. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping the smile from his face when she turned. “I was a dumb shit.”
The dark look at the back of her eyes told him he was losing her, and he took a step forward. “Just one cup of coffee. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Orchid’s wings clattered a warning, and Trisk spun. “What did you bring into my lab?” she said, hands glowing again with loosed power.
“Orchid?” Kal called, seeing the dust at the ceiling. She’d flown to the light fixture, and he’d never even seen her move. “Trisk won’t hurt you. If she does, I’ll see her into the ground.”
“Like an elf could catch me,” Orchid said, and Trisk looked up, her face pale.
“What did you do?” Trisk whispered as she followed Kal’s attention to the sifting dust, clearly not knowing what it was. Hardly anyone did anymore.
Kal couldn’t help his smile when Orchid peered over the rim of the fixture, her wings folded prettily behind her head.
“Oh my God,” Trisk whispered, walking backward so she could see better.
“Promise you won’t throw a spell at me,” Orchid said, and Trisk nodded, almost falling when Orchid took to the air to come to a dust-laden hover before her.
“Where . . .” Trisk whispered, and satisfaction filled Kal. “Where did you find a pixy? I thought they were extinct.”
“Not yet,” Orchid said, her dust changing to a melancholy blue. “But the humans are trying very hard.”
Kal held out a hand, and Orchid flew to him, no doubt appreciating the warm perch and safety. “Orchid found me two years ago.”
“Yeah, right,” Orchid said with a snort. “That’s how it happened. I found you.”
“She’s my friend,” Kal said, always having felt that Orchid rescued him, not the other way around. “And if you tell anyone about her, even the enclave, I will hurt everyone you care about, Trisk.”
Trisk pulled her eyes off Orchid long enough to give him a dry look, as if begging him to try. “Who would I tell?” She held out a hand, and Kal felt a stab of jealousy when Orchid flew to her, hesitating only briefly before landing. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Orchid. You’re the most beautiful person I think I’ve ever met.”
Orchid flushed, the dust spilling from her shifting to a faint pink. “Thank you,” she said coyly, and then her wings drooped. “You haven’t seen any bucks then, huh?”
“Give the notes we left time to work,” Kal said, and Orchid grimaced impatiently. Kal breathed easier when she came back to him and landed on his shoulder.
“Notes?” Trisk asked, and Orchid brightened.
“We left honey and notes at every rest stop between here and Florida,” the pixy woman said. “Kal promised to help me find a pixy buck. You sure you haven’t seen any?”
Trisk shook her head, the softness returning. “I’m sorry, no. Are you hungry? I’ve got a grove of young pecan trees you can safely gather in.”
“She’s fine,” Kal said. “Orchid brought her entire winter stocks with her.”
Orchid rose up, eyebrows high. “Something fresh is always appreciated. All you have is a windowsill.”
Kal stifled his pique. The two of them bonding was not exactly what he had intended. “Then how about we go to a coffee shop and you can snitch whatever you want from the back?”
Spilling a bright dust, Orchid turned to Trisk, and they both stared at her, waiting. “So,” Kal said slowly. “Coffee with scones and honey?”
“Sure.” Trisk pointed to the door, and Kal almost sang as he scooped up his singed coat, beating the ash off it before taking his hat from a counter. Orchid immediately settled atop his head, and he carefully put his hat over her before going out into the hall to wait. Trisk would likely want a moment to shut everything down. He wasn’t so vain as to think he had brought that softness back. It had been Orchid. But trust in him would come. In time.
“Sorry about forcing you out of hiding,” he said softly, and Orchid’s tiny sniff reached his ears.
“She was going to find me, anyway” floated out from under his hat. “That woman has skills. And claws.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Orchid said, voice serious. “She’ll rip your eyes out if you look at her wrong. I’ve never seen a dark elf. What did you ever do to that woman?”
The light flicked off in the lab, and he moved a few feet down the hallway. “I was mean to her, and made sure everyone else was, too.” Maybe that had been a mistake.
Trisk came out, awkwardly resetting the lock with her left hand. Kal remembered her favoring her right hand when attacking hi
m. She probably had a burn from whatever had tried to force his way out of her circle, leaving that rime of fat on the ceiling. “I know a few places in town that have palatable tea,” she said. “It’s taken me two years to educate them on how to make it.”
I am going out for coffee with Eloytrisk Cambri, he thought in amazement as she came even with him and they headed down the hall together.
Orchid stomped on his head, the signal that they were being watched, and he caught sight of Daniel lurking in the hall far behind them. Curious.
“Is that a sensory burn?” Kal said, snagging Trisk’s hand.
“Let go,” she said, trying to tug free.
“No, let me fix it,” he said, tightening his grip to make it look more natural. “I know a healing charm, but it works better if I’m touching you. I’ll be careful,” he said, sending a gentle warmth through his hand and into hers.
“That’s nice,” she said, her tone guarded, but she hadn’t let go. Everyone at school had abused her, but she’d wanted to be one of them nevertheless. “How’s Quen?” she asked, and excitement zinged through him. Knowing Daniel was watching, he walked confidently down the hall, his hand in hers.
“I don’t know. He works for my father, not me. Do you want to go back to my hotel and order room service?” he asked loudly, then leaned in, whispering, “Orchid could join us, then.”
Trisk turned to look at his hat, but Kal was sure all Daniel would see was her enraptured look up at him, their lips inches apart. “Okay,” she whispered back.
“Okay,” he echoed, letting go of her hand just long enough to get the door for her and gallantly gesture her through.