She pulled in away from him, her muscles drawing in taut and ready. "I can sing all night, and all day, and all night again if I choose. I can make this very difficult for you, and in the end you'll have nothing."
He chuckled softly. "Oh no, Jaguar. I'll still get exactly what I want. And you'll bring him to me."
She jerked her head up and looked him full in the face. "Him?" she asked.
"The Adept," he replied.
The Adept. The larger fish she'd bring to him. She wasn't an Adept. But Alex was.
"Alex?" she asked.
As she said his name, she experienced a sudden and sure sense of his presence. As if she had heard footsteps approaching that stopped at the mention of his name.
"Alex," Ethan repeated.
This was about—Alex?
"He's not here," she said. "He's on the Planetoid."
Ethan smiled. "Do you really think he's capable of leaving you alone? I don't. That's why I wanted you here. Eyes down, Jaguar. Eyes down. I studied you both for a long time before I began this project. If you're blind to his devotion, then it's willful blindness. It's quite clear to everyone else."
She was here to draw him. The Telekine needed direct contact at the time of death, and he knew Alex would not be easy to kill. But if he was distracted, looking to her safety—
Understanding filled her, followed by rage.
"You're using me as goddamn bait?" she snarled at him. "Me?"
Ethan pressed his hands against his heart. "That pinches the ego, doesn't it? To know I've been playing you on my line for so long. But as you said, the chant-shape is difficult to manage. Beyond accessing the energy, what good will it do me, in practical terms?"
She put a hand to her hip, tapped her foot against the basement floor.
"The art of the Adept, however—imagine what I can do when I add that to my fund of power."
"You used me as bait for Alex, you petty fascist pig dog." She took a step toward him, glittering green gold eyes spitting fire.
He unfolded his hands, and her arm went numb. She stared at it, breathing hard, caught between fury and fear. Block it, she told herself. It's a simple move. You know how. She focused, and felt pins and needles signal the return of sensation. He pressed finger and thumb together, and she felt a stabbing pain in her chest. She struggled for breath in the moment before she remembered how to access the appropriate relief.
He was good. Fast and accurate.
Calm down, she told herself. Focus. Don't be distracted.
"Don't take it so hard," he said. "You've become a prize in your own right. Courting you, observing your art, the prospect of bedding you—just the challenge of planning and staging all this—well, it's been a gratifying semester."
Xipe Totec flay him. How insulting could he get? And did Alex know? Or was he stumbling blind, as she had been. Stumbling blindly into a trap.
She could feel him drawing closer, his presence unmistakable to her. He was nearby, and she had to warn him. But the Telekine would feel her open, would know what she was doing. Fast and accurate. Like trying to outrun lightning.
She raised her eyes to Ethan's and pulled at him. Distract him. Time. Buy time. She needed a diversion.
"No, no," he said, averting his eyes. "That's not good."
"Then kill me," she said, and took a step toward him.
"My dear, I'd rather wait until Alex arrives. Watching you die will distract him from any act of self-preservation he could bring to bear on the situation."
Time. That gave her time. She took another step.
"But don't think I can't keep you still while we're waiting." He lifted his hand and her arm began to tingle. The sensation spread across her chest and became thicker, heavier, as her arms went numb. He chuckled softly and walked to her, walked around her, saw her trying to move, saw that she couldn't. He stopped behind her and put his hands on her shoulder. She could see them, but she couldn't feel them at all.
She tried to turn and couldn't. Tried to speak and couldn't. She tried to push him out, and couldn't do that either. Dammit. He'd gotten in. Found a crack and slipped into it and Katia and Steve were upstairs and where was Alex stumbling blind to this death trap? Time. No time. She was out of time and she couldn't make it better, so she'd have to make it worse.
She caught air and breathed it in, then opened herself to empathic contact.
Open. Wide open. Let him feel what she felt. Let him know what she knew. Let him feel something besides the tips of his fingers slicing flesh and consuming chemicals.
And she felt Alex, seeking her, reaching toward her. She had to warn him. Time. No time.
Alex, she whispered inside herself, Telekine. He wants you.
Clear as bells she heard the reply: I know, dammit. Shut up. Close down.
"How very interesting," Ethan murmured, listening to the whispered circles of thought, the danger she felt, the consternation and joy. Alex knew all about it, and was there anyway.
Try to steal that, she whispered into him. I dare you.
Ethan stood behind her, very still, his breath on her hair. The paralysis receded from her chest and arms and neck as he turned his attention elsewhere, his icy fingers clamoring toward her brain, a slicing and clear motion.
Then all motion stopped. His fingers poised within her thoughts, he paused, listened.
The sound of someone walking down the stairs. Not running. Not trying for silence. Just entering.
Jaguar saw Alex, emerging from the dim shadow shapes, walking toward them.
Alex, walking toward them, black eyes filled with sparks, hand raised in the gesture of the empath. Alex, smiling. Fully open, with his hand out in the gesture of the empathic touch. Gesturing toward Ethan. Smiling.
Jesus, was he crazy?
He caught her eyes, and she felt the stab of his thoughts. No crazier than you.
The Telekine was momentarily amused.
"What have we here?" he murmured, his thought shifting toward Alex.
Time. No time. Alex was giving her time.
Buying it for her with his life.
She would use it.
She pressed the button at her wrist, felt the blade slide into her grasp, and whirled.
Time broke into its smallest parts as she spun like a dancer on one raised foot, arms out like gracious wings, her body taut and balanced in a moment of pure motion. Her knife bit into Ethan's throat and sliced it cleanly and deeply as a shadow slicing air. Rich fresh blood flew off the end of the blade, painting the side of her face. There was such stunning grace in her brief dance of death that Alex, watching, thought it would be a pleasure to have her kill you, if only she would consent to do it in this beauty.
"Bite that bait, asshole," she growled at him as she completed the circle and faced him again.
The Telekine's eye grew wide and he lifted a hand to his throat and fell to his knees.
Alex caught her by the arm and pulled away from him, pushed her down to the floor, rolling over her and shielding her mind with his own as Ethan, gasping out life through his throat, reached a cold hand toward them both. Jaguar lifted her head to look and Alex pressed her back down against his chest.
Wait, he said into her. Wait. It's not safe yet.
They lay there, waiting, listening as his body fought to reclaim itself, until they heard the last catch of breath as it gurgled out with the blood that poured from the gash in Ethan's neck.
"Jesus," she said when it seemed safe, "you're heavy."
"Sorry." He stood and reached a hand down to pull her up. She stood and went for the stairs, but Alex pulled her back. "Where're you going?"
"Katia and Steven. I have to—"
"No, you don't," he said.
Her face fell. "Are they—"
"They're fine. Leonard got them out."
"Leonard?"
Alex nodded. "He brought me here. I think I probably owe him an apology for what I've been thinking about him. But I owe you one first." He searched her face to see
if he could remember how to read it. All he saw was relief.
"For what?" she asked. "For getting your ass here, or risking your ass here, or saving my ass here?"
"It wouldn't need saving if I hadn't been such an idiot," he noted.
"True," she agreed, "but if you hadn't been such an idiot, I wouldn't have been here. And who knows what would have happened to Katia or Steven or you."
He drew back from her and held her out at arm's length. "You're taking this better than I am. There's claw marks on my telecom from all the times I couldn't get through to you."
He felt her speaking into him, swift and unexpected pleasure of her thoughts moving within his.
Match the claw marks on your conscience? she asked, and he could feel the mischief in her. He ran interference on it.
No, Jaguar. The ones on my heart.
He felt her surprise, and the way she tried to cover it, like a cat who tumbles off a counter and stalks away, pretending he meant to do that.
"At any rate," she said, withdrawing from his thoughts and speaking out loud, "I accept your apology." She looked down at her knife blade and observed the blood at the tip, the blood all over the floor. She wiped it on Ethan's pants, then retracted it.
She was so contradictory, Alex thought. She risked her own life so readily, guarded other lives so fiercely, and killed with such ease when necessary. While he worked his way into corners trying to find the right solution, she acted. Terrifying, the way she would cut through to that point of life and death, choose and act as quick as thought.
"Are you okay, Jaguar?" he asked. "No wounds that need tending?"
"Just the ones to my ego," she said. He raised an eyebrow at her.
She kicked at the back of the Telekine's leg. Bad form, Alex thought, but he bet it felt good.
"Bait," she muttered, "my ass."
EPILOGUE
THE SNOW CAME DOWN IN EARNEST OUTSIDE HER office window. She kept her head bent over the work on her desk, ignoring the two suitcases packed and ready at her side, beckoning her to finish and get the hell out of there. To where, she still wasn't sure. Maybe north to look for the aurora. Maybe south to see Jake and One Bird.
The days of explanation, questions and answers, the tightrope walk across the politics of cleanup and cover-up had taken more out of her than the sustained chant-shape. Alex had been in top form, though, and she'd had the distinct pleasure of watching him throw Officer Keene around.
Keene hadn't even been very rude. Just made some offhand comment about women like her who usually slice a man a lot lower than this guy was sliced. Alex picked Keene up by the back of the neck and tossed him out the door. The local police seemed to run out of questions after that.
But there was still a contingency of military people to get through. Debriefings, they said. Which meant a chance for the army to tell them a series of lies about their relationship with Ethan and his death. Durk never made an appearance, but as they left the military offices for their hotel, she saw him sitting in an army vehicle parked across the street. He stared ahead, his wooden hand resting against the steering wheel.
When Alex and Jaguar passed, he turned his head toward them and removed his hat.
"Jesus," Jaguar said. "Are we dead and nobody told us?"
"No," Alex replied, grinning. "I believe that was his way of saying thank you. Tell me, would you still have killed Davis if you knew you were working for the army?"
She thought about that a minute. "It's probably a good thing I didn't know."
The next thing she did was sleep for twelve hours straight, and when she woke up there was a pot of coffee at the bedside stand, with a note from Alex saying he had to take care of something, but he'd probably be back.
She took the time to wrap up her academic work, and to see Leonard. "This time I'll ask how," she said. "How'd you know to go to Ethan's?"
He shrugged. "I stay connected. It helps."
"I guess I was born lucky as well as stupid. I'm sorry if I was rude at the funeral. I thought it'd be safer for you."
"I knew that," he said. "Katia's going to the Mohawk res for the break. She tell you?"
Jaguar shook her head. "I don't think she wants to talk to me yet."
"Give her time. She'll get it straight. The universe doesn't do waste. It even takes the shit and makes flowers."
"Maybe you're right," Jaguar said.
He wrapped one bearlike hand around hers and patted it with the other. At that moment she realized that he reminded her of a younger version of her grandfather. Large and safe and real. That was why she always felt a mingling of warmth and sorrow in his presence. She was glad she'd had the chance to meet him.
She looked at the snow falling outside her office window, sighed deeply, and turned back to her computer. One last onerous task to complete, and then she could leave.
She had been at it for no more than five minutes when she heard the knock on her office door.
"Come in," she said, and the door opened.
She pushed her chair away from her desk and looked up at Alex. "I'm grading," she said. "It's awful."
He came over to where she sat and perched himself on the edge of her desk. "Aren't you ever glad that you survive your own chancy life long enough to bitch about these irritating tasks?"
"Now and then," she said. "Or, rather, not now, but then I was." She considered him for a moment. "I understand the Telekine and the military involvement are both being hushed."
"Like water on fire. As far as anyone will ever know, Professor Davis was your garden variety pervert, and you're the brave citizen who helped the University stop him. They are laying claim to a plan, but the publicity's still killing them. And President Johnston will announce her early retirement any day now. Nothing to do with the trouble, of course. Just wants to spend more time with the grandchildren."
Jaguar made a sound of disgust.
"Exactly. I understand Katia's spending the semester break on the reservation."
"Leonard told me," she said. "He'll stay close to her. She's got a lot to heal."
"She will, Jaguar. Not to worry."
"I know," Jaguar said. She paused a moment, then continued speaking. "They're keeping the History of Empathic Arts course, you know. They've asked me to stay on and teach it."
"I know."
He did not yet ask her if she had accepted, and she noticed this.
"Universities are amazing. They co-opt what they like least, to drive themselves crazy, I suppose. Or keep it under their watchful eye."
He nodded. "Like all good bureaucracies. By the way, I have something for you."
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a letter, handed it to her.
She stared at it for a moment, then opened it and read.
A reinstatement letter from the Board, flattering and fulsome.
"There'll also be a raise," he said. "And a new evaluation letter for your permanent file."
Her lips went thin and tight, and she tore the letter in half, crumpled the pieces, and tossed them into the recycle bin.
"Slimy bastards," she spit out. "They want me back so they can try to kill me again."
"Is that what you think, Dr. Addams?"
"It's what I think, Supervisor Dzarny."
"You could be right," he agreed. "Maybe this whole thing was a setup to get rid of you once and for all. An intricate plot devised by men with brains no bigger than the forms they have to fill out on your repeated excursions into regrettable behaviors. That's one possibility."
"What's the alternative?" she asked suspiciously.
"Maybe," he said, "they're just assholes."
She lowered her head, and let it rest in her hand. Alex watched her as he thought through his next words.
"If it means anything to you, I want you to come back," he said.
She didn't move. Didn't speak.
"I'd like to tell you why," he continued, and he saw her shoulders stiffen.
"Alex, I don't think we sh
ould—"
"I do," he said. "Unless you've forgotten what happened in your chant-shape?"
She brought her face up from her hands, frowned.
"You remember, don't you?"
"Some of it," she said.
"Just some of it?"
Her breathing marked a minute before she replied, "All of it."
"And what you do at those times, what you say—it's all true. Correct?"
She nodded. She understood, and at least for now, she was sitting still with it. He allowed himself to breathe.
"Jaguar," he said gently. "I sent you here because I thought I'd be safe, if only I didn't look at the truth. That was stupid. More than stupid. It was almost fatal. To you."
He reached over and brushed a finger against her cheek. She took in breath, but she didn't back away from the gesture. "The truth is, something happened between us. It keeps happening. I can't call it back, but I'm not sure where to go with it."
"Where do you want to go with it?" she asked carefully, looking carefully away from him.
Stick with the truth, he told himself. Just say it.
"To my bed. To your bed. Any bed as long as you're in it with me."
He watched her reaction, which would have appeared noncommittal to any eyes but his. She bit her lip. Lowered her eyes. Considered her hands. Was silent. But he could feel her breath quickening. Thoughts moving like fire behind the lowered eyes. He waited.
"It would change everything," she said softly, hands quiet in her lap, eyes quiet in her face. "You know that."
She turned her face up to his, and he read the jungle of fear in it. "It's like the chant-shape. What you feel, what I feel—once we let it out, there's no telling what it'll do."
"I know," he said. "And I can't guarantee safety. Either we give ourselves to it and hope for the best, or not."
She turned her hands up on her lap and stared into her palms. Looking for answers, perhaps.
"And you would choose that risk?" she asked.
"It chose me," he said. "A long time ago. I just stopped running away from it."
"What if I haven't?" she asked.
"Then you haven't. I won't try to stop you. You've got to choose for yourself. What you want. What you're willing to risk. Whatever choice you make, you're still the best Teacher on Planetoid 3, Zone 12, and I feel privileged to work with you."
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