Tamara settled down between them and looked up to see some bizarre, bloody mass of pink tissue on the screen. “Ugh. What is that?”
Greg stared intently at the screen. “They’re doing a liver transplant.”
“And you want me to eat something while watching this?” Tamara demanded. “Gross.”
“Thank you,” Alarin chimed in. “I vote for another channel.”
“Me too,” Tamara added. “Anything else, please.”
“Fine.” Greg changed the channel to a tall, dark man talking earnestly about making a fine Italian dinner. The slab of meat on his plate looked way too much like the liver they’d just seen.
“That’s awful!” Tamara and Alarin said simultaneously. “Anything else, go, go, go, before he gets a plate of fruit between his eyes,” Tamara added.
Greg grinned and changed the channel again. This time it was to watch a man stick his hands up a horse and help it give birth.
“What in the name of the aarya do humans make shows about?” Alarin demanded. “Isn’t there anything on that doesn’t turn your stomach?”
Tamara glared at Greg. “He’s doing it on purpose, choosing the channels he knows will gross us out.” She moved a little too quickly and tried to grab the remote. The effort left her dizzy and her head pounding, as Greg held the remote out and away from himself. “Give me that!” She reached up his arm.
Greg looked at her, then licked her nose.
“Eewww.” Tamara returned to her own spot, rubbing her nose. “That was gross.”
“He has an unfair advantage, you realize,” Alarin told her solemnly, his eyes bright and spoiling the solemn note in his voice. “He’s not in as bad of shape as we are. And he knows it. Just wait until my psi comes back on line, Gregerin Tenricth.”
“All right, fine.” Greg flipped to something innocuous. The good-natured teasing and playing continued, and Tamara managed, for a short time, to forget the world outside that apartment. It was a time in her life she would remember later as being one of the happiest.
Chapter Ten
INDEED, THE REAL WORLD intruded itself within the next hour. Merran came into the living room looking tired. He loosened his tie and discarded the suit coat.
Alarin looked up from the movie they had finally compromised to watch together. “Finished?”
“I don’t know that it will ever be completely finished,” Merran retorted, running a hand through his dark hair. “But yes, that interview is over.”
“How did it go?” Greg hit the mute button as he and Tamara moved to make room.
“Better than I expected, not as well as I’d hoped. They spent most of the interview demanding to know about you, Healer.” Merran settled down on the couch in the spot between Tamara and Greg. He rested his head in his hands. “And now that headache that was nagging me earlier has become a full-fledged nuisance.”
Greg ran his hands lightly through Merran’s aura. Tamara suddenly noticed there were little eddies in his aura, roils in the hazel. They soothed as Greg touched them, smoothing into an even, fine flow.
She stared, fascinated. “Is that Healing?”
Greg shook his head. “Not really. This is something anyone can do. I can’t Heal, so I’m just soothing his aura. It won’t help except to calm him down a little and maybe allow him to ride out the pain better.”
Merran laid his head back and closed his eyes. “It’s very relaxing, which does help the headache.”
Alarin leaned over to look at Merran. “Did they try to find out about any of our other talents?”
“Not really. They were more fascinated with the Healing and grilled me at length about it.” Merran opened one eye and looked behind Tamara’s head to meet Alarin’s eyes. “No hostility at least. They are having a hard time reconciling their idea of the world with Greg’s activities. It’s only a matter of time, though, before they start asking me some pretty blunt questions about the rest of us.”
Greg continued his ministrations until Merran’s aura evened out. Then he pulled his hands away. “We expected this when we agreed to come here. I do wish I didn’t have to reveal my abilities, but as the choice was between Justern’s life and revealing our abilities, well, I made the choice.”
“So did I.” Merran turned to regard Greg. “I gave you the go ahead. The Council was none too happy with me.”
“Would they have preferred that you let Justern die?” Alarin sounded indignant.
Merran turned again and winced, putting a hand to his head. “Not really. Which is why they weren’t happy, but there wasn’t a lot to be said about it. They’ve left me to sort out the minefield myself. They haven’t made any kind of formal statement yet, either supporting or chastising me for the decision.”
“Ohhh … they’re going to see which way this goes, then.” He fixed his gaze on Merran. “And disengage or support you at that point,” Alarin added.
Merran nodded. “Damage control. We’re hanging out here alone at the moment. I don’t have any doubt that should it prove politically expedient, they’ll withdraw completely.”
“And recall us?”
Merran shrugged. “It’s possible. Very possible, if we can’t handle the firestorm.”
Alarin sighed. “We’re in for a long week.”
“The interviewers think I’ve been called out of town, although I haven’t been too specific on that point. Janille’s going to be swamped with phone calls.” Merran closed his eyes again. “This week’s going to be one interview after the other, I suspect. I just hope I get to air some of the unfairness about Justern’s case in between the buzz of Greg’s abilities.”
A beeping noise from the other room made them all jump. Greg got up and answered it. He came back moments later. “It’s Tamara’s father looking for you, Mer. Janille’s got him on hold through the embassy lines.”
“I’m coming.” Merran leaned forward and got to his feet. “He’s going to want to talk to you, Tamara.”
She nodded and got up too. “Did you want to talk to him first?”
“Come back with me, but stay off camera. I’m going to tell him you’re here, but I’ll leave it to you to tell him the rest,” Merran replied.
“He’s going to know what Awakening entailed, won’t he?” Tamara clicked her fingers together nervously.
“He spent a year on Azelle. I’m sure he’s aware of it,” Merran responded as he scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know that you need to tell him who was involved, though.”
Tamara gave him a look. “Who else would it be? I’m in your apartment and Greg’s too injured. I think he’ll figure it out.”
Merran made a face and blew air out his lips with a short puff. “Let’s get this over with.” He led her to the office area and settled in the chair in front of the computer. “Janille? Patch him through. Thank you.”
Peter Carrington’s face appeared on the screen. “Merran? Is everything all right? I got a call from the embassy telling me that you were called away from town and you would only be available through video or phone interviews. What happened? Did the interview go all right?”
Merran nodded. “Everything’s fine. This issue is becoming a Healer issue. We are in danger of losing media coverage on Justern’s case completely.”
Peter looked grim. “I know, and that’s not the tack I need. If it gets buried under the much more sensational revelation of Greg we aren’t going to get what we need from this case. It gives her far too much ammunition to try to pretend Justern forced her mentally, rousing whispers about what each one of you can and cannot do. Would Greg be willing to do any interviews?”
“I might be able to convince him, once he’s ready to face the world again. I do have Joely’s memories of the event.” He tapped his fingers on the desk.
“How did you manage to get those?” Peter demanded, his eyes widening. “You didn’t do anything she could bring against you, did you?”
Merran shook his head. “Nothing provable. Alarin, Mellis, and Tamar
a ran into her spreading rumors at dinner the other night. Alarin stopped and asked her if she’d set up Justern. The question prompted her to remember everything. We got a visual on the memories, and it appears Justern was unable to force anyone, even himself. He was pretty drunk and passed out. She definitely set him up.” He sighed. “For some reason, she’s got it out for him and developed quite an emotional reaction to him as a result. The memories weren’t all that clear, but I suspect he’s a stalking horse for someone who hurt her badly. Or he himself hurt her badly. It wasn’t clear if he’d had a relationship with her or not, but the night she’s claiming was rape was not.”
Peter rubbed his chin. “Hmm, this could work. We could carefully reveal Greg’s abilities and say that he can read memories. If the court will allow the information, we could set it up in court to have him supposedly read them both and get interpretations.”
“If they accept the word of a friend of Justern’s. Is it worth revealing our mind-reading abilities just to get told it’s still inadmissible?”
“That could and probably would start a panic that might hurt our case. Damn. Have you read Justern’s memories at all?”
Merran shook his head. “No. Actually, Peter, you’re going to have to wing it a bit, for the next week at least. I wasn’t really called out of town. I’m still at my apartment downtown and am stuck here until Greg gives me the all clear to leave.”
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, just confined to quarters for a little while,” Merran assured him. “I’m going to be running the PR end of things from here, as if I were out of town. There is more news, though. I have someone here who would like to talk to you.” He got out of the chair and waved Tamara over.
“Hi Dad.” Tamara settled into the chair.
“Tamara? Honey, is something wrong?” Peter leaned forward. “Are you at the ambassador’s right now?”
Tamara nodded. “I’m fine, Dad. I—I’m kind of stuck here, too. Healer’s orders.”
Peter reached out. “What happened? Oh my God, Tamara, what’s wrong? I want to see you. Where does the ambassador live?”
“I’m okay Dad. Don’t worry. I just Awakened, that’s all. No big deal,” Tamara said hastily as he grew more and more agitated. “I’m fine. Really, I am.” She glanced up at Merran, who stood off screen. Merran turned into the living room and waved Greg over.
“No big deal? Tamara, I know enough about Azellian Awakenings to know that you don’t get confined to quarters after you Awaken. Tell me where you are!” His voice inched higher and louder. Merran waved his hands and nodded silently at Tamara.
“All right, Dad. You can visit, but Greg wants to talk to you first.” Tamara tried to interpret Merran’s motions and gestures as she attempted to calm her father.
Peter took a deep, slow breath. “I want to talk to him too.”
Greg stepped into view. “Mr. Carrington.”
“How is she?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth.”
“She’s fine. Your daughter inherited a very sensitive ability to project and receive emotion, Mr. Carrington. You know that the later the Awakening, the more trouble it can be, right?” Greg asked. Peter nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the monitor. “Well, she’s very powerful and her Awakening was a little rough. She’s fine now … and functioning very normally … but there was some trauma involved that related to her having suppressed her psi due to that incident in high school. She was able to release those bottled-up emotions and memories during her Awakening and initate healing around it. I’ve confined her to these shielded quarters so she doesn’t irritate the already inflamed channels further or do permanent damage. It’s merely a preventative measure really … nothing more. She’s in perfect health and came through the Awakening quite well. The channels are clear, and as soon as they heal, she will be a fully functioning, projecting empath. You can see her now, but I want you to know that you will need to keep your emotions shielded. You do know how to do that?”
Peter took another deep breath and nodded.
“It can be dangerous for her to receive right now, so you have to promise that you will be calm when you arrive. Tamara is fine, in perfect health, and there is no reason to be upset,” Greg emphasized.
Peter’s expression was calm—and attorney perfect. “I will be calm, Healer. I would very much like to see her, though. Just to reassure myself.”
Greg smiled. “Understandable. When would you like to come by?”
“Now, if possible. I’m at my offices right now. Where is the ambassador’s apartment?”
Greg gave him the address and stepped back.
“I know where that is, sweetheart. I’ll be there momentarily,” Peter said to Tamara and cut the connection.
Tamara’s hand shook as she sat back. “God, that was harder than I expected.”
Merran came over and gave her a little hug. “Your father’s just worried about you, Tamara.”
“I know, and it bothers me to do that to him. I wish I could have warned him or something.”
“He knew you were Awakening. I told him a few days ago, so he knew.” Merran led her back to the living room. She was so nervous about what had just transpired, that she didn’t even notice Alarin disappear. “Just relax. It will be fine.”
Just the same, when the buzzer sounded from downstairs, she jumped nervously. Greg reached out and ran his hands lightly over the surface of her skin. “Shhh,” he said gently. “You’re fine, Tamara.”
Tingles ran up her arm and down to her stomach, where they settled and swirled. They were certainly distracting and strangely calming at the same time. Tension drained out of her.
The sound of the elevator as it stopped made her get to her feet. Greg released her.
The doors opened soundlessly and Peter stepped out. “Tamara.”
Seeing her father standing there made her blink away tears hastily. “Dad.” She went over to him and hugged him tightly. True to his word, not a hint of emotion seeped into her mind, despite the touch. His eyes were red and suspiciously moist as he pulled away after a few moments and looked down at her.
He lifted her chin and studied her face, turning it. “You look so much like Jasmian right at this moment. I never expected you’d inherit the psi, honey. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It might have made your Awakening easier.”
Tamara shook her head, tears quivering at the edge of her lashes. “It’s all right Dad. I’m fine now, and I will be fine. I have people here who know how to deal with it and who have been training me from the day they arrived. Maybe it’s better that it happened while they were around.”
Peter let her chin go, but did not drop his arm from her shoulders. He looked up at Merran, who stood back against the elevator wall, then over at Greg, who sat on the couch watching. “Thank you both.” He gave Tamara another hug and then let her go. He walked over to Merran. “May I talk to you? In private.”
Tamara could see the expression on Merran’s face clearly, although she could not see her father’s. Diplomatically blank, he bowed, a very low, elaborate gesture, and waved Peter into the office.
Merran controlled his stomach’s nervous roiling with an effort that left his head pounding. His hamstrung psi made it much harder to maintain an even demeanor, but years of habit helped. The two men faced each other.
“I’m aware of what the process of Awakening involves,” her father began. “And Tamara is twenty, an adult, and more than capable of taking care of herself. You’re older than she is, and we both know your experience is considerably greater in all ways. I’m not going to ask you what your intentions are. All I ask is that you think carefully before you decide where to go from here. Don’t hurt her.”
Merran bowed again, using the most submissive bow in the complex sublanguage he knew. Peter accepted the bow with a nod of the head and turned away. Merran stayed in the office, calming down his pounding heart and taking a few deep breaths.
“I need to get back to
your mom, sweetheart,” Peter said to Tamara as Merran came into the room. “Take care of yourself … and be careful.” He hugged her again. “Grandma’s gone, so when you’re better, come home.”
Tamara returned the hug. “Thanks, Dad.”
Peter stepped onto the elevator and exited.
Alarin came out of the bedroom as soon as the elevator doors whooshed closed.
“What happened to you?” Merran asked, scowling at him.
“I thought there might be just a few too many people here to make her father comfortable, so I made myself scarce.” Alarin walked over to the couch and settled down on it. “Let’s watch a movie, shall we? It’s going to be a long week if all we get to do is sit around and stare at each other.”
Tamara came around and joined Alarin on the couch. “The movie we were watching is over, right?”
“Long over,” Alarin mused, touching the menu button on the remote and calling up the movie listing. “Hmm, how about this one? Nice love story for Greg, the gore hound.”
“Hey, I gave in and let you watch what you wanted to, didn’t I?” Greg protested.
They squabbled for a few moments more, as Tamara glanced back to see Merran standing in the kitchen. He seemed distant, a little cut off from the good-natured raillery.
She got up, leaving Alarin and Greg to continue their argument, and went over to him. “What is it?”
Merran focused on her. “Nothing you can help me with.” His eyes traveled down her body and back up. “Nice use for that shirt.”
Tamara struck a pose. “Like it? My fashion sense isn’t always on the mark, but this shirt just screamed dress.”
That got a grin out of him. “Funny … that. It never screamed anything when I wore it, much less dress.”
She tugged at the hem of the shirt that landed somewhere below her knee. “This must come down to your mid-thigh.”
Merran nodded. She could see him relaxing a little. He shifted his stance. “It does. I like it because it’s cooler than an Azellian robe but very reminiscent of one.”
Alawahea Page 32