He made himself go still. But before he could sink into his meditative state, the door to his room opened abruptly and Duncan, his guide from yesterday, came in.
Duncan grimaced. “God, get some clothes on, dude.” He tossed a load of books onto the bed.
“Uh, I think I’m not allowed,” Thomas said, shrugging in apology.
“Hmmph.” Duncan strode into the bathroom. He tossed Thomas a very clean, white towel. “At least put this around your junk. You’ll scare the girls. Well, except for Rhiannon. She’d be all over you like white on rice.”
“Rice is brown,” Thomas noted, puzzled, as he wrapped the towel around himself.
“Christ, you’re a bore. Why did I get stuck babysitting you?”
“What is this, ‘baby-sitting’?” Thomas asked. There were no infants present.
“Jeez, you’re ignorant.” Duncan didn’t bother to enlighten him. “But I’m stuck with you. Morgan wasn’t happy I left you on your own.” His face went pale and his eyes flickered. Duncan shook himself. “Get going. Gym first, then shower.”
They didn’t meet anyone as Thomas followed Duncan through the halls. “I saw more people yesterday,” Thomas remarked, as Duncan opened a door labeled “gymnasium.” He knew what that was. Both the ancient Greeks and Romans had them.
“Everybody is up unloading supplies. We got a copter run today.”
Thomas stopped. “What is copter?”
Duncan rolled his eyes. “Helicopter. Like a plane?”
Thomas nodded, looking around. The room was filled with crazy contraptions sitting around like huge metal insects. Greek and Roman gymnasiums were very large community areas with rocks and logs for lifting, ropes and large hammers. They were nothing like this. Duncan took out a paper from his pocket and picked up a board with a metal clip at the top.
“Okay, I’ll show you how to use the machines. Start with the leg press.”
Thomas followed Duncan to each machine. The night and his dreams receded in the bright light of the gymnasium. He was being silly. Could you throw away a lifetime of preparation because of some dreams? Morgan had given his life meaning. She was wise. She wanted a better world. He would save doubt for later. Now, he must make himself ready to execute his purpose.
He turned to pull himself up on a bar laid across some metal poles.
“Dude,” Duncan exclaimed from behind him. “Somebody whipped you.”
“Yes.”
“Looks like it wasn’t the first time,” Duncan said slowly.
“No. My training was very strict.” He pulled himself up again.
“You must have done something really bad.”
“Sometimes I questioned Brother Theodosius.” He began to grunt with effort. “He believes only in the Bible. But I read other books as well. I was trying to reconcile the theories.”
“Shit, man. You got whipped for that? Who gives a flying fuck about theories? Why were you really punished?”
Thomas felt himself flushing. He wished he could avoid this topic. But perhaps that is why he should confess it. “I also had impure thoughts.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. “So how would anybody know?”
“I told Brother Theodosius.”
“You are one stupid bastard.” Duncan laughed.
“He helped me control them. My mentor said I must be pure to serve my purpose.”
Duncan shook his head. “I don’t guess even whipping can stop a man thinking about pussy. You just got to lie about it.”
“Why would I think about a cat?” Thomas dropped to the floor, panting. His muscles had a pleasing burning sensation to them.
“Christ, you’re ignorant.” Duncan looked disgusted, then thoughtful. “Yeah. Monastery and all. Guess she wants you stupid.”
Thomas felt himself on shifting ground. “I mastered all my studies.” Was he really stupid because he didn’t know why it was inevitable to think about cats? Worse yet, why would being stupid please Morgan?
Duncan only laughed. “I bet. Oh, well. Got a feeling she’ll teach you what need to know.”
At that moment, the gymnasium door opened. Morgan herself appeared, along with the light-eyed man called Jason. The large raven on her shoulder cawed at Thomas and turned his bright black eye on him. Thomas immediately knelt. “My mentor,” he murmured.
She stood over him, her fists on her hips. “Did I give you permission to wear a towel?”
Thomas shook his head. “Please forgive me, my mentor.”
“Take it off immediately.”
Thomas untucked it with shaking hands. He did not want to displease her.
“I made him wear it,” Duncan said. That was unexpected. Thomas would not have thought he was the type to take blame on himself. Thomas glanced up to see Morgan switch her unusual golden eyes to his babysitter. “Look,” Duncan said, defensively, “I don’t mind looking at his junk, but the women might not have gotten the ‘look-but-don’t-touch’ message. One in particular.”
Morgan looked thoughtful. “All right. He may wear it when he’s in the halls only.”
She turned back to Thomas. “So, you’ve read the Bible.”
Thomas turned his face up to her in shock. How did she know that? He had said it well before she came into the room. Was she all-seeing?
“I told Brother Theodosius explicitly that I did not want you taught to be a Christian.”
“He…he didn’t teach me to be a Christian. He just loaned me the book. He said it would show me that serving a higher purpose meant more than comfort on earth.”
“Hmmm.” Morgan’s eyes went to slits. “That could be useful. And you read many other religious texts as well? What did you learn?”
Thomas took a breath. He would answer her as truly as he could. “What they had in common. A sacrificed God. Many had trinities. An emphasis on the unseen as more fulfilling than the real. Even Kant—though of course he wasn’t religious in the traditional sense….”
“Enough,” she barked, interrupting. Her gaze roved over his body. He realized he was sweaty. The veins stood out in his muscles. “To the showers,” she ordered. “And scrub yourself well. Duncan, be sure he uses the stall in front of the mirrors.”
She turned and stalked out.
“Thank you,” Thomas said to Duncan. “You didn’t have to take the blame.”
Duncan let out a breath he had apparently been holding. “Only thing that saved me from experiencing her particular brand of punishment was reminding her that Rhiannon humps anything with a dick.”
“I didn’t hear you reminding her of that,” Thomas said, blinking. He had no idea what humping was or a dick for that matter.
“No. You wouldn’t. Now get into the showers.” His mouth formed a grim line. “Take the stall in front of the mirrors.”
As the walked to the showers he realized that Duncan might be willing to give him information. He wouldn’t start by asking about his purpose though. That hadn’t worked out well in the car. He’d start with the other topic that consumed him. Tammy.
“Why is the Tremaine family an enemy of the Clan? Are they evil?”
Duncan ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He glanced upward toward one of the metal boxes that hung above them in the corner. “Yeah. Yeah, they are. They have powers too and they want the Talismans for themselves.”
“I saw these Talismans.”
“They’re what’s going to give Morgan what she wants. Them, and you.”
Thomas smiled, just a little. He had another piece of his purpose. “How will they do that?”
“They…increase power.” Duncan seemed nervous. They had come to a gleaming white-tiled room. Duncan turned on a rain of water that steamed.
“Like magic powers…” Thomas mused. So Jason could cloak the entire compound, and Phil would be able to shove heavier things, and Rhiannon could make bigger storms. And he had a role in making more power for Morgan! But what could be greater than a power to bring dead people back to life?
&nb
sp; He might not be able to ask that directly. “What does Morgan want?”
Now Duncan got very nervous indeed. He pulled his jacket around his thin body, even though the room was warm and steamy. Then his face grew angry. “I can see why they whipped you for asking questions. You’re entirely too curious. Morgan doesn’t like that.”
Maybe Morgan would take Thomas’s purpose from him. Then what would his life have meant? He might doubt that she could control the generals or rule the world graciously, but he was her creature, and what she wanted, he must want.
*
Tammy couldn’t sleep. After another awful dinner, she slid out through the side door of the dining room. Nobody noticed except Drew. Drew gave her a weird hug. It lasted a little too long. And when Tammy backed up, Drew’s eyes were full. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked. But Drew just shook her head and wheeled away.
Now, in her bed with the door to her room securely locked and guarded by Lance, Tammy knew that Drew had seen more than she was reporting. Tammy might be the baby, but she wasn’t stupid. Maybe Drew knew about her and the Clan boy. If so, that hug said she’d keep Tammy’s secret.
Tossing and turning in her room at the end of the upstairs hallway, her nerves were a wreck. All she could think about was that boy. But he wasn’t a boy. His body was bulky with muscle under the jeans and denim shirt he wore. You didn’t have that kind of body when you were eighteen. Maybe she thought of him as a boy because his face held a kind of openness. Maybe innocence? But of course he wasn’t innocent. He was Clan and they did despicable things in the service of their foul ambition.
She should despise him for that. She did despise him. And yet she couldn’t get him out of her head. Kee would want to paint him. Or sculpt him. Oh, no. Images of naked male muscle imitated by cool white marble cascaded through her. She was getting more agitated.
And she was wet between her legs. Fabulous. Just fabulous.
Lance came over, sensing her distress, and snuffled her with his wet, black nose. She was even keeping her dog awake. She threw back the sheet and scrambled out of the high bed. She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and stuffed her feet into her barn clogs. “Come on, Lance.”
They drifted through the house and out onto the lawn, Lance padding silently beside her, his black coat making him nearly invisible in the night. Around her feet, she felt rather than saw the other black animal in her life. Bagheera meowed, not wanting to be left behind.
But prisoners couldn’t really go anywhere. She saw a shadow separate itself from the far wing. She lifted a hand in salute and got a salute in return. The night shift of the security staff. She pointed to the gazebo at the far side of the lawn and he nodded, giving her what space there was in her circumscribed existence.
She slipped behind the partial curtain of bougainvillea covering the gazebo roof, still a vibrant magenta even in the semi-darkness. The sound of breakers below was usually comforting, but nothing could comfort her tonight.
She leaned on the far railing and looked out across the night sea. The moon had set. Lance heaved himself down behind her. She glanced to Bagheera. His chartreuse eyes were huge and round, even with so little light. Why did she end up with black dogs and black cats? Probably because they had a hard time being rescued. It was the least she could do to adopt two of them.
She was so screwed. Even now electric irritation buzzed along her nerves. Could she get used to this almost painful sensation of need? Or would it get worse the longer she refused the call? Her siblings had described finding the One who was their Destiny. It got so they could sense where the other was located, within certain geographical limits, and after they’d had sex. Trying to deny the connection made them physically sick.
But it couldn’t be this bad. One look and she was stuck with this painful need to come together. Drew had gone after Michael after seeing him on TV and she’d had a vision before they slept together. But Drew didn’t describe the desperate sensation Tammy felt. What was this?
She slumped to the cushioned bench and leaned against the railing. She didn’t want to be Tammy Tremaine anymore. Why couldn’t she be something simpler, like…Lance?
She looked down at the wolf-like sheepdog.
A shuddering wave washed through her vision, blinding her for a second. It was like a transparent curtain being drawn across her eyes, its folds obscuring what she saw. She blinked and she was looking up. Instead of the dark of Lance’s eyes, the black of his long fur, the barely visible pink of his tongue, she saw…herself.
Tammy sucked in a breath. The image was a blurry, as if she needed glasses. The magenta of the bougainvillea was gone, lost in the green of the leaves and the shadow of night. Her red hair was blue-green too. Her eyes were big with shock, looking down directly at her…or….
My God! She was seeing herself through Lance’s eyes. She gave a little yip of fear. Her image moved closer as Lance rose and licked her face to comfort her. She could see her own long pink tongue snake out. Or rather his pink tongue. Her image looked around frantically, but what she saw was only what Lance was looking at—her face. Then she caught a trace of movement from some remarkably wide peripheral vision and the view shifted quickly to Bagheera, who had come prowling up. She heard Lance’s growl of warning to Bagheera not to approach when he was tending to Tammy’s needs. Bagheera gave a testy hiss. Lance’s gaze swept back up to her as she shook her head, trying to clear it. How had she done this? What was happening? How could she get back in her own head?
The minute she thought about her own head, the transparent curtain swirled across her vision and when it cleared she was looking down at Lance, who was gazing anxiously up at her. The bougainvillea bracts were magenta. Images were clear and sharp.
She started to shake. She had just seen the world through Lance’s eyes.
She knew what that meant.
Tammy grew up with all the stories of Merlin, the historically accurate discussions of his battle at Camlan with Mordred, and the fanciful medieval and nineteenth century versions of Camelot. Merlin was reputed to be able to see through the eyes of animals.
Oh, shit! That sealed it. She’d gotten a power. That stupid boy really was her Destiny.
She sat, shuddering in the cool breeze coming up off the breakers crashing against the cliff a hundred feet below her. Being separated from that evil guy would get harder and harder, until she might well go mad with refusing him. Why did she feel the need for him in her bones? He was in Las Vegas, for God’s sake. Distance was supposed to make the need grow less. This was freakier than all the other magic stuff in her life.
If only the power she’d gotten would actually help the family. Seeing things through animal eyes wasn’t exactly useful. She couldn’t even tell anyone about it. If they knew she had a power, they’d know she’d met her Destiny, and then she’d have to tell them who it was, and they’d think she was a traitor…
No. She was telling nobody what had happened. She’d just have to cope with it all by herself. Forever. Because this longing wasn’t going to leave her alone. She was now sure of that. At some point she might be better off heaving herself over the edge of the cliff.
She hugged Lance and that brought the tears—great heaving sobs of them. Bagheera rubbed against her leg. But she was not comforted. What if she endangered the family by being distracted all the time? What if she lost herself entirely, betrayed everyone she loved to the Clan for a chance to be with some guy she’d seen once?
What if the best thing to do for the family was to leave them?
*
Michael was worried about Drew. She couldn’t decide whether to tell the family about Tammy’s possible death or not and the dilemma was throwing her into a downward spiral. That and her continued visions. She kept letting them in, hoping to learn whether Tammy actually died and wondering if she had sealed Tammy’s death by not telling the family. Michael didn’t know whether he should make her tell her secret or forbid her to do so (not that Drew would follow his advice.)
He found Jane on the terrace, staring out over the morning ocean. She was wrapped in a thick sweater of indeterminate color against the cool morning air. “Sorry to interrupt your thoughts,” he began. “I need some advice.”
Jane turned, her eyes serious. “It’s Drew, isn’t it?”
That was Jane. Practically psychic in her ability to read people. He nodded.
“I expect she’s seen something worse than she told us.”
“Yeah. And it’s killing her wondering whether or not to tell the family. What if telling them changes what happens? That could be bad or it could be good, and neither of us know which. We only know that it would make everyone unhappy.”
Jane took a big breath and let it out. “I see.” She paused a moment. “Well, I would say two things. We know about Drew’s visions at this point. One, they aren’t always the full story. We’ve been wrong about what they meant. And number two: in the end have we ever really changed the outcome? They do come to pass. Only afterwards do we realize what they meant.”
True. “But that still doesn’t tell us what to do.”
Jane looked back out over the sea. “I sometimes think that, while our gifts are all sometimes a burden to us, Drew got the most problematic gift of all. Are we meant to know our future? Especially if we can’t change it.”
“She felt awful that she didn’t tell the family about Senior’s accident.”
Jane gave a small smile. “If you remember, she thought he died. He didn’t. But the vision did come to pass.” She looked up shrewdly. “I’m not going to ask who she thinks is going to die this time. But I know I don’t want to suffer that death, real or not, any more than I must.”
“So that’s it, then.” Jane was right. Actually, Jane was always right and you didn’t even resent her for it. She would someday lead the family as Kemble’s wife. They were very lucky.
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