A Lunatic Fear

by B. A. Chepaitis

Jaguar. It’s me. Alex.

  She looked at him hard, her eyes growing large in the dark, her mouth forming the syllables of his name.

  He let go of her arm. She retracted her knife and swayed over him, braced her hands on the bed next to his face. Then she pressed her palm against his cheek and held it there.

  Alex. Alex. It’s you.

  Everything in her thrummed with joy and relief. He leaned into her hand. Sweet. It felt sweet.

  She lowered herself, her hand exploring his face, her face close to his, the weight and smoothness of her skin pressed against his thighs.

  She was the color of sand on the floor of the desert. Her eyes caught moonlight and held it. Somewhere far away, he tried to tell her there was no time and it wasn’t safe. He thought he spoke, but he couldn’t be sure. The skin of her legs was against his and there was no barrier left between them. She had fire in her skin and the moon in her eyes. She was close enough for him to breathe into her lungs, and the moon washed through her to him, and he could no longer instruct his hands not to pull her down to his mouth.

  Here, he said to her, to himself. Here, Jaguar.

  He told himself clearly and firmly that he must not. Not yet. Not here, not this way, with the moon in them both. But it felt so good and he would rather drown in her eyes, be burned by her skin than fade into Brendan’s despair, a shadow of a shadow of fear. Her eyes could swallow him right here. Her eyes and her hand, and he would be content.

  Then his mouth was against hers and hers warm as light on his and she was pressing herself into him, her desire an animal with wings that carried them both over the edge of the abyss they’d skirted for so long. He drank from her, drank from the source of energy that belonged specifically to her and nobody else in all the universe.

  She struggled with his robe, tugging at the belt, her eyes hungry and her body warm and sweet and naked under the thin nightshirt.

  “Wait,” he whispered hoarsely, “Wait. Jaguar.”

  “No,” she said. “I won’t wait. No more.”

  He laughed softly. “Until I get this thing off, I meant.”

  She kissed his neck, his chest, while he freed himself of encumbrances. It seemed to him as if they fell off the dark side of the moon into a space empty of everything except the two of them. All his fear was gone. He wasn’t here to harm her. He knew what he was doing, and meant to do it, meant to find his way to her through this unexpected night.

  He fell into her as if she was the center of everything he’d ever wanted, his hands recognizing her shape from the memory of nights he’d gone to sleep dreaming of it, his mouth knowing the taste of her from long desire.

  Her hands soothed all questions, left none remaining except one - how much pleasure could he offer her, in exchange for the bliss she was giving to him.

  * * * *

  Gerry was walking from his apartment toward Rachel’s when he walked by a diner and thought he saw someone he knew inside. He passed the window. He stood and stared into the window, mouth slightly open, asking himself what was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to interrupt anything, but it would be good to say hello. On the other hand, if it was business, he really didn’t want to interrupt. He knew how Pasquale was about business.

  Finally, he decided to move on. If Pasquale was here, that meant Jaguar was back, too. He’d catch up with his old friend soon enough. Rachel had left him a message to meet her, and he knew that meant they were going to Marie’s. He was on his way over to Rachel’s now.

  He walked at a leisurely pace to her building a few blocks away. He would have rung her bell but she was just coming out her door.

  “Hi,” she said. “You’re late. I almost left without you.”

  He followed her to her car and got in, settled himself. Rachel yawned big, saying words through the yawn he couldn’t understand.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I said you missed all the fun. I found him.”

  “Who?”

  “Alex. Or he found me. I dropped him off at Marie’s.”

  “Cool,” Gerry said. “And Jaguar’s back, with Pasquale, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I saw him,” Gerry said.

  “You stopped at Marie’s?”

  “No. I saw him on the way over. At the diner. With this pretty woman.”

  Rachel swerved to avoid a dog running across the road. “Again?” she asked.

  “No. Not that I know of. At least, it’s the only time I saw.”

  She ground her teeth. “No. Say that again.”

  “Oh.” Gerry repeated what he’d said.

  Rachel frowned. “But - that doesn’t sound right. What’d she look like?”

  “Pretty. Honey hair. Nice face. Big brown eyes. I think I know her, but I’m not sure from where.”

  Rachel tried to place the description. It sounded familiar, like someone she knew.

  “Y’know,” Gerry said. “She looked an awful lot like Governor Whitehall. Ever meet her? She’s zone 11, but she gets here sometimes for business. She saw one of my shows once. Really nice lady. I didn’t know Pasquale knew her, though.”

  Miriam Whitehall. Meeting with Pasquale. Rachel didn’t like the sounds of that. She felt inclined to tell Jaguar about it right now. But maybe she and Alex had things to talk about. Or not talk about, if she was reading the wind right.

  She’d go to Marie’s and see if Jaguar was available. If not, first thing in the morning, she’d have to let her know.

  * * * *

  Alex trailed a finger down the road of Jaguar’s spine. He let his hand come to rest on the back of her thigh, which he considered as a thing of beauty.

  “Jaguar,” he said, “I have to go soon.”

  She lifted her head from her pillow and looked back over her shoulder at him. “Are you well enough to leave?” she asked. “You were pretty close to the edge when you came in.”

  “You could tell?”

  “Yes, Alex. Of course.”

  “Well, I got here,” he said. “And I feel a helluva lot better now than when I started out. I think,” he mused, “the moonstones amplify existing conditions. With Brendan, that’s a bad thing. With you, it’s more than fine.”

  “That’s how it worked with the women,” she said.

  “The women don’t do Thanatos, though, do they?”

  Jaguar shook her head. “That’s the male reaction, I’d guess.”

  He kissed her shoulder, the back of her neck. “Another discovery I made tonight,” he said. “Eros beats Thanatos every time. Mark it in your notebook for future reference, Dr. Addams.”

  She rolled over on her back, reached up and stroked his face. “Okay,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean it’s safe for you to go back.”

  “Brendan still has his vial of poison for the water system. I have to get it, and bring him in.”

  “Any idea what it is?” she asked.

  “From what I saw in him, my guess is neurotoxins. Make the Planetoid citizens insane or dead, discredit us so Global can move in.”

  Jaguar shivered lightly. “We could tell Paul. Let him send someone else.”

  “And what if he feels obliged to follow protocol?”

  Jaguar considered. Paul just might. “Then you stay here and let me get Brendan,” she suggested.

  “No. Absolutely not. I know him. I’ll bring him in.”

  “That’s fine, if that’s all you plan on doing,” Jaguar said. “It isn’t, though.”

  He was silent. Of course he wasn’t just going to get Brendan. Now that he’d had a chance to review the situation, he wanted to get the Mother close enough to reel in as well. She figured that easy enough.

  “I’m doing my job, Jaguar,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  He leaned on an elbow and traced the line of her jaw with his finger. She caught his hand and held on. “Okay,” he said. “I know. But this is our only chance to connect Miriam to this mess.”

  “Then I’ll come with yo
u. You need back up.”

  “Not happening. In fact, I want you off the Planetoid as of this morning’s shuttle.”

  She grinned at him. “And miss all the fun? With governors screaming and so on? I don’t think so,” she said.

  “I do,” he replied. “If something goes wrong and Brendan uses his little bottle, I want you well out of the way. Besides, someone has to take the moonstone to a scientist I know in Jersey. We’ll need an official analysis for the Hague.”

  “I hate Jersey,” she said. “Send Rachel. I’ll go with you. Alex, you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone with me. You’re the last person.” He stopped, started again. “He wants me to kill you, Jaguar.” He stopped again. Too much to feel tonight. Not enough reason to balance it. “When I’m near him, I can’t trust myself.”

  “You won’t kill me,” Jaguar said.

  “How do you know?”

  She sat up and stretched. “Because I’ll kill you first, okay?” she said. Then she added, more reasonably, “Look, we can bring Gerry if you want. I’ll bet he’s immune to Artemis. Way too crazy already. And we’ll bring Pasquale – Rachel tell you about him?”

  “She said he’s big,” Alex noted.

  “Mountain with a boulder on top.”

  He considered that option. She was right. He shouldn’t go back alone. And he was right. She was the last person who should back him up on this. On the other hand, as far as he could tell there was no one else for the job. And he’d have to knock her out cold to keep her away. For all he knew that was how she’d end up dead. If they brought Gerry, though, it might work. It might keep them both safe.

  “Okay. But I think,” he said, surveying her, “you should get dressed first.”

  “You, too,” she said. “You got an address for the Jersey scientist? I’ll give the moonstone to Rachel and dig up Gerry.”

  “Written on the box.”

  He sat up on the bed, felt a momentary dizziness come and go, and stood. So far so good. He reassembled the robe from the heap on the floor and wrapped it around himself. “My clothes are downstairs. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  She rolled onto her back, still naked, and he was suddenly reluctant to leave the room. He moved back toward her and touched her cheek with his finger. She captured it and brought it to her mouth, licked it lightly, let it go.

  “You understand,” he said, “that right now I’m thinking I’m one of the luckiest men alive.”

  He saw her jaw working. “Then stay alive,” she said.

  “Those were my plans, Jaguar. “

  She nodded, her sea-eyes gone dark in the darkness, wide as the night sky and twice as deep.

  He stroked her hair one more time, to have the feel of it in his hand after he left the room.

  Chapter 18

  He dressed in the darkness, not rushing. It would take Jaguar time to rouse Rachel and tell her about the stone, the plans. Time to wake Gerry up.

  But as he dressed, he felt space opening up around him. Felt himself fall into it. Felt himself dying, cells sucked dry of life.

  Am I having a heart attack? he asked himself. Am I dying?

  No, he insisted. This can’t be. Not now. Artemis, maybe. Residual effects. Something in his clothes. If he stuck it out, he’d come back. He’d learned that, hadn’t he?

  He leaned against the wall, feeling its gritty texture under his hand, relying on this physical sensation to keep him where he was while he waited to see what would happen next. No voices told him to kill. No despair filled him, or hopelessness or desire.

  What happened next was that he saw Jaguar standing in front of him, saw his hand going to her throat, reaching for it, saw Brendan standing behind her smiling and Miriam standing behind him, her face triumphant.

  The space closed itself, spit him back out into Marie’s kitchen, leaning hard against her wall. He listened to the house, and heard its silences.

  So, he thought. No heart attack or Artemis there. Just Adept space, giving him fair warning. He’d take it.

  He found the keys to Rachel’s car on the kitchen table, as if they’d been left there just for him.

  He let himself out the back door, closing it silently behind him.

  * * * *

  Jaguar made her way to Rachel’s room with the material from Brendan. Rachel was sleeping, but she woke when Jaguar whispered her name and put a hand on her

  “What?” she asked, sitting up fast and blinking. “Is it for me?”

  Jaguar laughed and sat down on the bed next to her. “Sort of,” she said. “You awake?”

  Rachel blinked some more and rubbed at her face. “Not sure. What time is it?”

  “Nighttime. But I have to go.”

  Rachel looked at her hard. “You look - different.”

  She peered down at her green work shirt. “Good color for me?” she asked.

  Rachel shook her head. “Something else. Did Alex find you?”

  “He did,” she said. “We’re on our way to get Brendan, and we need you to do something.”

  “We?” Rachel asked.

  “Alex, and me. Or Alex and I depending on how fussy you are. Are you awake, Rachel?”

  She shook herself. “I’m awake. I just don’t often hear you use that word. We.”

  “We’re going to get Brendan,” she repeated patiently, “and we need you to do something.”

  She handed her the box, pointed to the writing on it. “Get this to that person, at that address. As soon as you can. Call in sick and take a shuttle out today. Don’t open the box. It’ll hurt you. You got it?”

  Rachel nodded, then looked at Jaguar questioningly.

  “No time for answers,” she said. “When we get back, okay?”

  “Wait,” Rachel said. “There’s something you have to know. It’s important.”

  “Okay. Be fast.”

  “It’s Pasquale,” Rachel said. “Gerry saw Pasquale, at a diner with Miriam.”

  Jaguar ’s lips went thin. She closed her eyes and pressed two fingers against them while Rachel reported what Gerry had seen. Jaguar ’s mouth twitched, and then she opened her eyes and smiled.

  “Is he here?” she asked. “Did he come back here?”

  “Yes,” Rachel said. “At least, someone’s in his room snoring.”

  “Don’t tell him where I went. If he asks, say I’m off sulking somewhere. Tell Marie to try and keep him here. I can’t take care of it until we get back.”

  “Go. Good luck, right?”

  Jaguar stood and left the room before Rachel could offer further comment. She wanted to get moving, and she kept feeling twinges of anxiety, as if she was waiting for what would go wrong next. Which, she realized, she was.

  Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet and dim in the night that had turned the corner toward dawn. She recognized the voices of morning birds outside.

  “Alex?” she whispered. Nobody answered.

  She went to the laundry room, but he wasn’t there. Went to the living room, but that was empty. Made her way down into the basement and in the damp, cool dark asked again, “Alex?”

  No answer.

  Her heart began to beat abnormally fast for the amount of energy she was expending. Maybe he was upstairs waiting for her, looking for her. She took the steps two at a time and opened the door to her attic room.

  It was empty. Her heart skipped a few beats before it got back on its track. She pressed her hand to her chest, asking herself why she was so afraid.

  And then, she went to the attic window and saw why.

  There was only one car in the lot. Rachel’s car wasn’t there. She slammed a fist into the wall.

  “No,” she said. “No, goddammit.”

  She clattered down the attic stairs and threw open the back door, ran to the parking lot, where she saw the tracks of a car just gone.

  “No,” she insisted. “No.”

  She turned back to the house, thinking she’d get t
he keys to Marie’s car and follow him. She wouldn’t be that far behind him, could catch up with him. But at the door of the house, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  She didn’t know where he was going.

  He never told her where Brendan was, and she didn’t ask because she thought she’d be going with him.

  He was gone. Alone, and without weapons because he never carried a weapon casually, said he wouldn’t since the Killing Times. Damn him. He was gone.

  If she didn’t have the evidence of her skin still tingling to his touch, she would have thought the whole episode with him a dream because she couldn’t have found and lost him again so quickly, and she could no more get to him now than she could before he dropped into her bed, into her. But he had been there, and her skin still tingled with his touch. She still smelled of him.

  His scent was on her, in her. She raised her hands to her face and smelled his soap on her.

  “Pasquale,” she murmured.

  He was all she had now. Pasquale, who met with Miriam, and claimed he didn’t have a strong enough scent to track Alex. Pasquale, who was snoring in his room.

  She went through all she knew of him, tried to fill in the gaps on all she did not, and reached a decision.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “So it’s a little dicey. At least he’s available.”

  And if she was walking into a trap, at least she was doing it with her eyes open.

  She went back into the house, walked down the hall to Pasquale’s room, entered it and closed the door behind her. He was lying under the covers, hands behind his head, eyes open. She wondered if he’d been waiting for her. She supposed that would at least save time.

  She unbuttoned her shirt and let it drop to the floor, let her pants slide down after them. When he sat up and gaped at her she knew he hadn’t expected this, no matter what he knew.

  “Put it away,” he said. “I told you I’m not here to - ”

  “You’re here to find Alex for me,” she cut in. “And you need something to track him with. Something with his scent.”

  She could see thought chasing thought behind his eyes. He rubbed at his chin. “He was here? With you? Then, you know where he is, right?”

  “He left before I got his forwarding address.”

  He ran his gaze down and back up the length of her body, then held her eyes with his for a long moment. “He left you behind.”