“Can you fix it?” I asked. She smiled at me stepping aside to direct me to a row of sinks where she would wash my hair.
“I think I can. Let’s get you washed and conditioned and we’ll go from there.” I took my jacket off when Janice offered to take it and I watched her hang it up before following Helen back to the sinks. She wrapped the traditional black smock around me as I sat down carefully tipping my head back into the bowl.
“Poor love,” Helen muttered as she sprayed hot water over my hair and scalp. “Having to walk all the way here where people could see. You must have been so embarrassed.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” I said with a shrug.
It felt nice to have someone else shampooing my hair, it was kind of relaxing and it also helped me to think. What had happened to DJ and Farai? DJ had said he was going to get help. I assume that meant he had gone back to the farm to use their phone. No help had arrived. That meant one of two things, either DJ had never made it to the phone or he had not gone for help in the first place. DJ could have been one of the wolves that surrounded us in the barn and I wouldn’t have known, I never saw what color wolf he turned into. That then left me worrying what had happened to Farai. I knew Farai was on my side, he and I were both currently in the business of protecting Sorin, so he had not been in on the ambush. So when I had sent him to find what had happened to DJ, what had happened? I reasoned that he’d either been caught in the same trap that DJ had or he’d discovered that DJ had betrayed us and had to be silenced. I didn’t want to think that DJ had planned the whole ambush but what did I really know about the werewolf?
I didn’t even know exactly how Sorin chose the king. I would have to ask him. Maybe DJ was disgruntled about not being chosen as a candidate and had set up the ambush to try to kidnap Sorin so that no one could be king. It would be very petty.
“Does your hair curl naturally?” I opened my eyes and looked back at Helen.
“Yes, but I used to braid it a lot or brush it out.”
“Well now that it’s shorter, it’s going to be a lot harder to do that. I can straighten it if you prefer but your face would be much better framed by the curls.”
“Won’t that require a lot of maintenance.”
“A little spraying, a little fluffing, it won’t take any longer than braiding it would have. If you do it all before you go to sleep as well it will be ready for the morning.” I guess that didn’t sound too bad. I would let her do as she must because she was the expert in this situation, if she could save what was left of my hair then I would be eternally grateful. I felt the splash of the warm water on the back of my neck and rinsed out the soap. I had never been able to imagine myself with short hair, it’d been long for as long as I could remember. I suppose that was a long time to go without change and I know they say that change every now and again is healthy. Personally I’d never been a fan of it. I liked things to be the way I liked them. I had to suppose that was the reason I had freaked out, everything I knew was changing. It wasn’t a little change, it was a warping of my whole world view. The makeover I was forced to be getting was just another change.
She took me over to the seat in front of the mirror where I sat down and proceeded to close my eyes again. I didn’t want to look at the wet jagged mess that was my hair at the moment.
“Let’s start with seeing how much we have to cut off to get you level again and then we can work on style.” I gave a quick nod before she took my head in her hands telling me to keep it straight and still. I could hear each snick of the scissors as it sliced through my hair, sorting through each lock so that they were the perfect length. My head felt strangely lighter. She would lift a lock, draw a comb through it, snip and let it fall back against my head. I could hear the hair as it fell against the floor as she would section off another lock, snip it and let it fall back into place. There was something very soothing about it.
Helen, the stylist, started nattering while she cut about holidays and movies, I only had to chime in with a word here and there and she would just run on like a record only pausing briefly between tracks. She stroked her fingers through my hair and I could feel she had some cream or mousse in her palm that stuck to my hair coating it, shielding it as she turned a blow drier on my head.
The radio that had been playing low in the background was drowned out completely by the sound of the hot air blowing around my ears. I could feel the brush curling and twirling my hair around its bristles, forming it, giving it new definition and shape.
“Do you mind hairspray at all?”
“Not really, but don’t go mad with it, okay.”
I kept my eyes tight shut and held my breath while she sprayed around my head making two completely unnecessary circuits. I felt her lift my hair, scrunch it in her fingers and let it drop.
“There now, that’s so much better.”
I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror. The curls in my hair were more defined, they curled carelessly around my face barely brushing my collar bone and if my face had been a bit fatter I would have looked a little like a doll. As it was I looked close to a promotional picture I’d seen for Grey’s Anatomy’s Izzie Stevens. It was remarkable. I admired it from all sides as she held a mirror behind me so I could see the back. It looked good. It looked really good. I thanked the chatty stylist wholeheartedly for saving my hair, paid at the till and left the shop.
I don’t know what it is about a new haircut that makes you feel so empowered. Perhaps it’s all the eyes that fall upon you in admiration and jealousy. However, new or not a haircut did not make my day more or less remarkable. I went to the supermarket, fervently avoiding the liquor aisle and the eyes of the clerk who’d gleefully sold my soused self the bottles of tequila.
I bought some staples of both my diet and that of a growing child, tossing in a couple of bags of gummy bears. There is not a kid on this earth that can resist the overwhelming appeal of bear shaped gelatin products. I pity anyone who does not know the joy of licking the back of a gummy bear and sticking it to an unsuspecting sleeping person’s face. I smiled. I was a slightly evil child.
I walked back home, put the shopping away and checked on the sleeping Sorin. He was still out for the count which was good. I pressed the flashing button on my answer machine and started to put the shopping away. I’d gotten a new machine after I’d destroyed the tape on the old one, then come to the discovery that my parent’s machine was so drastically out of date that I couldn’t buy a new one. Everything had gone digital. Aram’s voice came over the speaker much clearer than the old one had ever managed.
“Pet, please, we must talk. I do not wish to be pushed out of your life. You must tell me what is wrong so I can fix it. Come see me.”
The message clicked off and I was reaching for the phone before I could stop myself. I had dialed Dante’s number before I managed to pull my thoughts together.
“Dante’s Inferno…”
“Can I speak to Lance please? It’s Cassandra.”
“Certainly. Please hold.”
I nodded even though they couldn’t see that. I was greeted much more pleasantly on the phone now. No sales pitches and they actually let me talk to tell them what I wanted. The music stopped and the phone clicked.
“Miss Cassandra, a pleasure as always. What can I do for you?”
Lance was always very polite. He was Jareth and Aram’s day guy, a glorified gopher who got things done that had the limitation of banker’s hours.
“I need you to give a message to Aram, just write down what I say and put it on his bedside table or someplace he’ll see it when he wakes.”
“Certainly.” I could hear the sound of rustling as he got pen and paper ready.
“I’m in the middle of something right now but as soon as my business is done I will drop by and we will talk.”
“Understood, Ms. Cassandra. I’ll make sure he gets the message.” A wail from the spare room made my nerves jangle. I slammed the phone down with only the briefest of apol
ogies to Lance and ran for the bedroom.
Sorin was sat up in bed, tear tracks drying on his cheek as panic made him struggle with the covers. He stilled as I wrapped my arms around him and sniffed. My scent obviously reassured him because his wailing died away too and his hands clung to my clothes. Inc had put him straight to bed when the sun rose but now I noticed how dirty the little boy was. He had dust, dirt and bits of hay in his hair, his clothes were stained and dirty from the fight and climbing up a tree. My nose wrinkled as he smelt a little like a haystack. He pulled back and I used my thumb to wipe his tears away. I could see from his eyes I had a more important thing to address first.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
He nodded sadly and I stroked my hand repeatedly over his head.
“Dreams can’t hurt you,” I assured him even though I was pretty sure it was a lie. There was a whole level to dreams that I’d yet to explore. Aram’s talent had shown me that. Sorin seemed comforted enough for me to lower my arms and sit back.
“Where is Farai?” Sorin asked looking towards the door as if he expected the hulk of a man to walk in behind me any second.
“I don’t know, Sorin. He never came back. Maybe he bunked down in the community at dawn when he couldn’t find us.”
“Where are we?”
“My apartment in town. It’s safe here.” He looked at me, his eyes really focusing on me. He reached out tugging one of the curls next to my face.
“Like it?” Sorin smiled and nodded. “We’ll head to the community after dark okay, but first you’re gonna have to take a bath and eat something.”
Sorin pulled a face at the idea of having to take a bath. He changed his mind when he saw the bubbles in the tub though. I sat on the lid of the toilet reading a magazine while he cleaned up and I treated his clothes to a little freshening up spell.
* * * *
It turned out Sorin was very partial to macaroni cheese. I cut up some cooked sausage to mix in with it for protein, made him eat a banana and drink a big glass of milk, before sitting him down to talk. I’d made the mistake, however, of letting him turn on the TV while I’d washed up and although he knew I was trying to talk to him seriously, his eyes kept flicking back to the late afternoon cartoons.
“Sorin, please, you’ve got to pay attention to me. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay.” He gave a little head jiggle to acknowledge his attention was mine and I noticed-with some relief–that he’d stopped calling me momma.
“How much do you know about what you’re here to do?”
“Oh lots,” he said beaming, his face becoming animated as he ran on. “The monks sat me down and told me all about it. I paid real good attention because they were gonna test me. I got a gold star.” He waited a beat expecting praise. I smiled at him.
“Very good, Sorin. But what is it you’ll do exactly?”
“I’m special,” he chirped. “I can see into people, tell if they’re good or bad and see their path.”
“Path?”
“Father E calls it their path. I don’t really understand but I see lots of pictures and I feel stuff.”
“So you’ll look at the consciousness and just know which one is the right one?”
“Uh huh.”
“How?”
“Dunno, I just know.”
“Is that it?”
“I got some words to say and there’s a stamp involved.” He pulled out a leather thong that was around his neck. It looked a bit like it had a flash drive but at the base of it was a crown carved out of metal.
“And that makes whoever King?”
Sorin shrugged and tucked his necklace back underneath his clothes. I was going to question him further but I felt a shiver roll down my spine as the sun went down, a knock came at the door and the cartoons reclaimed Sorin’s full attention. I unfolded myself from the end of the couch and went to answer it. I opened the door till the chain from the catch was taut. I really needed to get a peep hole. Anything I was worried about could have broken that chain-and the door for that fact-with no problem at all. I was safe enough as it was LeBron on the other side. I pulled the chain off and let him inside.
“How’s the leg?” I asked as it didn’t appear he was even limping.
“Healed up,” he said twitching it from side to side a little, “your witch friend sure knows what she’s doing.”
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he looked away. I could tell he was choosing to ignore that a secondary symptom of lycanthropy was an increased ability to heal. He’d read enough of the literature-he had to know. I was about to push the issue because I was in just that kind of mood when he stared me down.
“I know,” he said in a deep growly voice. “I don’t want to talk about it just yet.”
I had to surrender when he put it like that so I quickly changed the subject by asking him if he’d eaten and if he wanted some of the leftover mac and cheese. He accepted and watched me carefully as I pottered about getting him some.
“What?” I asked handing him a laden bowl over to him.
“I may be wrong about the direness of the situation and all but how did you have time to get your hair done?”
That led me to explain that it had been an emergency and even showed him the battered remains of my braid.
“Ouch,” he said delicately wincing at the thought of the claws. I gave an involuntary shudder that they’d been so close to my neck. “Anyway I came to escort you to the community. I still figure that you can’t go in there alone not knowing who to trust.”
“Didn’t your car kind of get mangled?”
“I can escort you on foot and getting a tow to go pick up my car and not ask questions is a story I will bore you with at another time. But you get what I’m saying right?”
“You’re telling me you’ve got my back. It’s very decent of you as it seems I keep getting you hurt.”
“What’s a little blood between friends?” he said laughing it off and tucking into the macaroni. I smiled weakly thinking that LeBron would be a good friend for a long time-if I didn’t get him killed first.
Chapter Nineteen
There was a different guard at the community gates which all things considered was not necessarily good news. It meant I had no idea where Sphynx boy and the rest of his renegades were hiding. He was also the only one I could identify clearly in a line up. All the others had been in a wolf form and once you’ve seen one… My blasé attitude stemmed from my anger at myself for not being more observant. I had the bad habit of spending too much time punning rather than assessing the situation fully. I wasn’t much of a fighter preferring to antagonize my opponent into making tragic mistakes that would help facilitate me kicking their ass. Actually kicking a bad guy in the ass was both an injury and an insult, they really didn’t like that.
I’d called Simian from my place just before we’d left and arranged to meet at his house. He’d been worried about me but I’d stopped him before he’d barreled into a lengthy questioning of me. He would see me in little less than half an hour, we could talk then. The guard let us through after checking his list and I held tight to Sorin’s hand. I didn’t want to get this far and lose him now. He seemed fascinated by looking up at the stars between street lamps as we passed under them. Simian was sitting on his front steps clad in blue jeans and a dark polo neck sweater. I didn’t think mid-March was cold enough for the sweater and wolves tended to run a little hot anyway-it was such an odd choice. It made him look smart though, very grown up and responsible.
“I expected you back last night,” Simian said but as we stepped into the beam of light from his security lamp he blinked at me.
“What happened to your hair?” I glared at him and he hurriedly added. “Not that it doesn’t look nice.”
I ignored his question in order to respond to his statement.
“We had some trouble. Are they ready to see us?”
“I called the candidates right after you called me. They
are prepared to receive us.”
“Good, we need to talk and then I need you to take me to DJ’s place.”
“Why? Where is DJ?” He looked around as if he expected the younger wolf to stalk from the shadows behind us.
“I’ll explain in a while. I want to get Sorin out of the open and under protection as soon as possible.” Simian blinked down at the kid who moved behind my body, peeking around my hip at him. He smiled at the boy. Simian was good with kids, especially his own, sometimes I didn’t know how he did it.
“Hello there,” he said squatting down to the boy’s height. “It’s very nice to meet you, Sorin.” Simian extended his hand and waited patiently while Sorin examined it from all sides before shaking it. Sorin came out from behind me as he did, I felt something from the little boy that made my pull my hand from his, it was a quiet little power. He read Simian and obviously liked what he saw.
“Hi,” Sorin chirped cheerily. I waited till the soft feel of his power died away before taking his hand again. It wasn’t that I was against being read but I feared what the child would see in me especially at the moment when my nature was still a confusing mess to me.
We started to walk toward the community council building. We passed the darkened streets and I swear I could feel eyes on me but whenever I looked in the direction of the sensation, it vanished.
The light that came from under the ornate doors I had admired before was dim. Simian held open the door allowing us inside. The main light was off but the flicker of the torches still lit the corridors. Simian hurried around to stand in front of us.
“Mister LeBron can go no further I’m afraid.”
“Why the hell not?” Simian looked at me disapproving of my tone but I had little to no patience left.
“Because he’s a norm.”
“Give him time,” I muttered under my breath and gave a sigh. I had no power to argue with the way they wanted to do things, although I really wanted to. I turned to LeBron to apologize to him but he beat me to the punch with a knowing shrug.
Inhuman Heritage Page 17