by Mark Eller
Obviously hurt, she stopped trying. Instead, she huddled on her side of the bed, a small twig figure curled in upon herself.
Ignoring her, Aaron fell asleep.
Waking happened much quicker.
"Stupid!"
Hands fastened onto his shirt and jerked him out of his bed. His head flinched to one side from a hard slap. His injured cheek burned.
"Of all the lame headed!" Missy's voice snapped just before she slapped him again.
"Hey," Melna yelled,"leave him alone!"
Aaron staggered as a third body crashed into them. He had one wild glimpse of Melna before she was flung back onto the bed. A shove sent him stumbling backward until he hit the wall.
"Aaron Turner," Missy growled. "Whatever possessed you to get into a duel? Have you any idea how stupid that was?"
"You tell him, Miss Bayne," Kim said from the open doorway. "He wouldn't listen to me. Goodnight all. " A satisfied smile played at the corners of her lips. She closed the door.
"Do you know this woman?" Melna demanded.
"She's my accountant."
"Some accountant. " Melna squirmed around until she sat up in the bed. "I've missed something. What duel?"
"Who are you to ask?" Missy demanded.
"His wife."
"Oh," Missy's voice grew quiet. "Congratulations to you both. Did you know your dear husband almost died? He dueled with pistols. The woman I met out in the sitting room said he missed getting a bullet in his eye by about an inch. She also said he crippled the other man for life. " She glared at Aaron. "And don't try to hide the significance of that from me."
Melna's face paled. "Who was injured?"
"What," Aaron asked quietly,"are you doing here?"
"I'm chasing you. I finally catch up only to find you're trying to kill yourself! By the Lady, what kind of idiot are you?"
"Who," Melna tried again,"was injured?"
"You know the man," Aaron told her. "You kissed his friend. Miss Bayne, what are you doing here? I left you a job to do."
"I did the job. I passed it on. " Missy tossed her head, flicking her hair back across her shoulder. "Autumn found your lead covered boxes. She tricked me into opening one a day after she opened one herself. The effect was rather--"
Aaron held up a hand to stop her. "Not here. We can talk about this tomorrow. " He cast a significant look at Melna.
Missy shook her head and glanced at the girl. Aaron saw she didn't miss the fact Melna was almost undressed while he remained in his day clothes.
"Sorry, pal," Missy said. "We talk about it now. Autumn said I had to give a box to the stick girl, and from the look of your wife, she fits the bill. Autumn's been right a hundred percent so I'm not taking any chances. Is she correct about you losing your Talent Stone?"
Aaron's eyes narrowed. "How did she know that?"
Missy snorted. "You really are an idiot. I told you she found your lead covered boxes. Her Talents aren't very strong. Only one is usable even with a Stone, and it's unreliable, but when it works, it's right on target."
Aaron groaned. "She opened a box. Tell me she didn't open a box. " The Stones had slowed his aging by a factor of at least ten to one. As he understood things, the slowing differed from person to person, but everyone possessing a Talent Stone did slow. Autumn would have to destroy her Stone or she might have the second longest childhood in the history of this world.
Missy lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "I already said she opened a box. Her Stone activated her precognitive Talent, and her Talent told her all sorts of useless things. She can sometimes tell you what she's going to have for breakfast the next morning. Once, she predicted a mole would tear up the backyard, and she predicted it would rain for ten minutes half an hour before the rain fell, but that's not normal. Mostly Autumn doesn't know when the events she sees will take place. Sometimes she has no idea what event is coming up, but she knows what's needed."
"What's needed?" Aaron asked, confused.
"Yeah, well, that brings us to why I'm here. Something, several somethings, will happen. Autumn told me to bring extra Stones. She told me who to give them to. Then she told me you need to return home. What could I do? You don't argue with Talent--at least most of us don't."
Aaron stared at her. Missy gave him a thin, amused smile. "Tell me something?" she asked. "Did Autumn tell the truth? Did you really kill Mister Talent Master Beech in single combat?"
"Yes," Aaron admitted,"but I didn't want people to know."
"Taking on a Talent Master," Missy said musingly. "Now that was stupid. Sarah died, and Cathy almost died when the three of you went against him together. What possessed you to think you could beat him alone?"
"He made me angry."
"I'll say. Here you go, big boy. Welcome back to being you. " Reaching into a side pouch, she tossed him a lead wrapped box. She tossed another one to Melna.
"A knife opens them very nicely," Missy said. "Mistress Turner, I suggest you go into a separate room before opening your Stone. Autumn stood too close when I opened mine. The resonance between her Stone and mine sent her running. If my experience is any help, it will be about three hours before you two should be near each other."
"I'll sleep in the extra room," Aaron said to Missy. "You can have the couch. " He looked over to Melna. Appearing almost sad, she turned the box in her hands.
"Will you be all right?" he asked.
Dark shadowed eyes met his. "I've never been tested. I've no idea what this thing will do to me. " Her eyes shifted to Missy. "What about you?"
"Mostly emotions," Missy said. "I can sometimes sense people who are near me. I can also occasionally tell you where the closest water is, and I once froze a fly in place. The fly really annoyed me. I might have traces of other Talents but none are strong enough to show themselves. Even my main Talent isn't strong. I have no control over when it works, and people have to be within a few feet. As Talents go, mine are flubs."
"Aaron doesn't trust me. He didn't want to talk about this in front of me."
"He doesn't trust you," Missy agreed. "You feel guilty, alone, and hurt. He feels guarded, closed, and afraid. Something happened between you two. He admires you more than you do him. You're still unsure who you married. That's understandable. Mister Turner is surrounded by mystery and secrets. You feel confused and scared. And now you are both angry with me."
Shuddering, Missy held out a shaking hand. "For what it's worth, my Talent has a price. The decision is yours, Mistress Turner. Open the box or don't. I'm going out to the couch. The emotions you two kick out are more than I can handle."
Aaron moved to follow her.
"Aaron--Husband."
With his hand on the door, Aaron stopped, looked back. Melna huddled defensively on the bed. Even so, her voice was firm.
"I've never been in love. I've never been married. I'm afraid of the one, and I don't know how to handle the other. I felt trapped because I'm married to a man I don't really know. Those men were pretty, exciting, and handsome, just like the ones in my fantasies. I was afraid, Aaron. I was afraid, and yet I wanted excitement. I thought I was mature, but I'm finding I'm still very young. All I can say is I'm sorry, and it will never happen again. I'm sorry I don't love you. Given time, I might learn how, but it just won't be the exciting kind I always dreamed of having."
"You're afraid?" Aaron asked gently. "Melna, I've loved three women. I married two. One married another man after she practically promised herself to me. Afterward, I married Sarah, but then she and our child were murdered by the Talent Master Miss Bayne mentioned. The third woman married me so she could be with Sarah. She never loved me just like you don't love me. I convinced myself I didn't love her. I was wrong because I did, and I do, and she's now pretending to be married to another man. " Closing his eyes, he fought an upsurge of emotion. "It's not wrong to be afraid. Caring brings pain."
He opened his eyes, started closing the door, paused, and opened it again. "Miss Bayne told you how I felt. Pl
ease note she didn't say I was angry with you. I'm not. I'm just…hurt…again. " That time he did close the door.
Kim sat cross legged on the sitting room floor. Eyes glazed, her breathing came in ragged gasps. A soft, pleasurable moan escaped her lips. Clenched in the fingers of her right hand was a horseshoe magnet, the other-world manufactured Talent Stone Aaron had brought over with him the last time he traveled across the worlds.
Twenty feet away, Missy pressed up against the far wall. Face flushed, her breathing synchronized with Kim's.
"I'm so close part of it is getting through," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "Thank the Lady, my empathy is shut down."
"It looks like she's having a good time," Aaron noted.
"Oh, she is. She'll have a good time for about three hours. At least that's what happened to me. None of you will be worth anything tomorrow."
Her smile turned slightly bitter. "That means it'll be the day after tomorrow before you can go home. This one needs to go with you. " She released a short gasp and shuttered. "Go away, Mister Turner. This is embarrassing enough. Go face your own ordeal."
"It's different for me. " Aaron told her. "My bond will be less intrusive. Nothing like you describe."
"Maybe it has to do with location. We're an ocean away from where you brought these Stones into the world. Maybe it's because the Stones have been in this world years longer. " She shuddered again. "Then again, Autumn didn't have this problem. Maybe the experience differs from person to person."
Cursing, she pulled away from the wall. "I'm not staying in this room. Mister Turner, you have a guest tonight."
Once they were in the spare room and the door was shut, Missy's breathing settled down. "This," she said pointedly,"is much better."
Aaron pulled out his folding knife and carefully cut the seals on his box. The lid flipped open to his touch. Pulling out the enclosed package, he cut away the lead tape. This horseshoe magnet was only a little larger than his last one had been. Drawing in a deep breath, he cupped it between his hands.
A shock coursed through his body, followed by a familiar warmth running through his limbs, entering his belly, and trickling into his mind. Nothing else happened. Within fifteen seconds his ordeal ended. Because he had carried a Talent Stone for years, Talent pathways and connections were already formed within his brain.
Missy lay back on the bed. He lay down beside her. Since there was only one pillow, Missy smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt and used his shoulder. Her hand felt uncomfortably warm on his belly. Rising, it caressed his chest, rose higher, and brushed against the side of his mouth.
"Make-up doesn't hide her mark if a person knows what to look for. " Her voice was wondering. "Something indescribable works its way past the covering. " Her fingers began a caressing motion. "What was it like when she kissed you? What did it feel like when the One God claimed you as his own?"
"I told you, it's only a tattoo."
"You lie," she said. "I can feel it."
Aaron reached up and gently moved her hand away. "It felt like nothing," he lied again. "She kissed me, and it left a mark."
"I told you," Missy said. "Lies don't work. You can lie to me and to yourself, but we both know you can't lie to the One God."
Her breath was warm on his cheek, and then her lips brushed softly against the mark before her head settled back onto his shoulder. "Goodnight, Aaron."
Ten minutes later her gentle snores put him to sleep.
* * *
Aaron woke just after the servants began moving around outside his bedroom. His clothes were soaked. So much sweat rolled off his body he could not stand his own stink. The room was hot, and he was dressed, and he lay beneath two layers of covers.
Missy's head no longer nestled on his shoulder. Instead, she used a bundle of clothing as her pillow. Apparently she had been hot also because her new pillow was the clothing she had worn when they first lay down.
Life, Aaron reflected, was not fair. He was a married man whose wife slept in the next bedroom over.
Smiling, he snuck a quick peek just to make sure Missy looked as good as he remembered. She looked a good deal better. Her face was softly framed by her hair. Her skin was faintly flushed from the heat and--and he was getting out of bed even if he still felt tired. This was Missy, and he was a married man.
Rising, Aaron removed his clothes and used a water bucket and sponge the servants had set on a side table. Finished cleaning, he donned fresh Fasberly jeans and a new shirt he found neatly folded beside the bucket. Thank the gods for servants.
Missy's eyes opened. Tired humor glinted within.
"Surprisingly," she said,"you are not a bad looking man."
Feeling inexplicably guilty, Aaron closed his eyes, reached for the special place within his mind, and transferred.
* * *
The hour was early in N'Ark. The sky was still dark and few people traveled the streets except for a cab and several delivery wagons. Aaron shook his head at the cab driver who gestured toward him.
The air was cold and still. Aaron felt the bite through his thin shirt. N'Ark was almost two thousand miles north of the estate. N'Ark's November snow had not yet fallen, but the present temperature said snowfall was near.
Too cold, his wait was too long. There was no need for him to remain. His test had worked. He transferred back to the estate.
Missy was asleep again. He laid down with his back to her and closed his eyes. Sleep came easy at first, and then he dreamed of Johnston falling beneath his gun. His gun rocked against his hand. Johnston's cries sounded, and his gun banged again, and hundreds of dead looked on with accusing eyes. Kneeling beside Johnston, Aaron's hands tried stuffing blood back into the man's body. His fingers pinched bleeding wounds closed. His efforts were futile. Johnston's breath rattled. His accusing eyes bore into Aaron, and then Aaron stood and screamed.
He woke to find his arm wrapped around Missy's body. His hand rested on her stomach, barely brushing against the bottom curve of one bare breast. Uncomfortable, he drew his hand away, hesitated, and gently cupped the breast closest to him. Missy's hand rose, grasped his fingers, and pulled his arm tighter to her. Beneath his palm, her nipple hardened.
Aaron licked dry lips. He was married, but in this world that didn't matter. Still, this was Missy and he would not. Could he? It would go against his principles and damage the remaining shreds of his integrity…but could he?
No.
But with Amanda.
Flicker
* * *
The bread maker's stood before him on a N'Ark sidewalk. The aroma of fresh bread surrounded him when he opened the shop door. Oven warmth filled the small room, caressing his already cold skin. His palm tingled with Missy's remembered warmth.
Damn it! He was a married man. Missy had no right to put him in such a state.
Mistress Hunter looked up from the glass counter where she busily arranged a display of cinnamon rolls. Loafs of bread, shelves of donuts, trays of sweet rolls, and butternut biscuits filled several display cases.
"Twelve loaves coming out," her husband called from the kitchen. The creak of an opening oven door sounded.
"It's been a long time, Mister Turner. Same as usual?" Mistress Hunter asked.
Trying to match her friendly smile, Aaron shoved his unsettled thoughts to the side.
"Half a dozen, please. I've been out of town for a while so I've a hankering. How are the kids?"
"Growing," she replied as she pulled open a drawer and dropped bagels into a bag. "Always growing is what they're doing. The oldest one, Nessa, is seven, and our boy just turned three. The doctor says he has a sound constitution and should make it at least another year. If he makes it to four he should do pretty well. I think we'll get to keep this one, the Lady willing."
"That's great!" Aaron felt pleased for her. In this world, the mortality rate for male children was horrendous. While young, they died in droves. Their constitutions seldom gained the same resiliency as a female's
until they neared puberty.
He handed Mistress Hunter a silver for the bagels. It was the only coin he had on him.
Mistress Hunter shook her head. "You know we're a small shop. I don't have proper change."
Aaron grinned. "Keep the change and we'll call it even."
Waving off her protest, he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. A small breeze had sprung up while he was inside, driving the cold right through his shirt. He quick stepped into an alley.
Flicker
* * *
Amanda's dining table was cluttered from one end to the other. Opened books and untidy stacks of papers littered every available surface except for the stove and one countertop half covered with dirty dishes.
After hauling a pan out of the cupboard, Aaron dropped it on the stove and lit the propane burner with a striker hanging on a nearby hook. Amanda's ice box stocked plenty of cheddar and ham and butter and onion. Within minutes, Aaron had those ingredients cooking in a thin pool of butter.
He was about to slip in two crushed garlic cloves when a sudden memory struck him. Amanda did not like garlic. Considering his plans for her, he saw no reason to start the morning with an argument over seasonings. Then again, he might not carry through. His conscience gnawed at him because he was married, but he was in a mood.
"What do you think you're doing?" The voice behind him was stern and demanding and anything but friendly.
Startled, Aaron flicked a quick glance over his shoulder. A gray haired woman watched him warily. She clutched a foot long and inch thick brass rod in her hands.
Crap! Had Amanda moved?
"I'm sorry," he said, hoping the woman wouldn't be too quick to use the rod. "I thought this place belonged to Miss Amanda Bivins. My name is Aaron Turner."
Relaxing, the woman let the bar fall to her side. "Mister Turner. Amanda warned me about you. She said you use too much garlic."