"I suppose I owe you an explanation."
"How about some privacy?" He looked in the mirror and met her reflected eyes.
"No time for that. Not according to my grandmother." Sian scooped her hair to her back. Most of it stayed, but one unruly strand sprung back over an eye. She sighed and tried again... no luck. "Not if I'm going to save your life. If it's any consolation, your grandmother agrees to the match."
Roger dropped his eyes to concentrate on immediate business. Women hated it when you missed the bowl. "You talked to my grandmother?"
"I did, and I can see where you get your looks from. Annwyl is lovely."
Annwyl? Wrong grandmother... he finished, zipped, flushed and turned. "I went to her funeral when I was sixteen."
"And a lovely funeral it was, I declare. Now you be listening to this lass, Roddy. She'll make you a fine wife." Sian shook her head violently, sending her mass of hair flying. "I hate it when people do that. Once more and I'll shut you out. Got it?" She was talking to thin air... or a ghost.
"She made her point." Only his grandmother would call him 'Roddy.' She'd hated the name his mother had chosen--hadn't been particularly fond of his mother either. And despite her Welsh roots, Grandma Annwyl always talked like a character from a bad Irish play. Either that had been her, or Sian had done amazingly deep research into his family. "You want to marry me?"
"I like younger men. And your bloodline is impressive. Our children should inherit my gifts." She grinned. "And if there wasn't a wall behind you, I'd say you'd run. Bet I can hunt you down." She cleared off the hair once again covering her face. "Actually, when the crisis is over, we can reassess. For now, we only need to be betrothed, not married."
"Why?"
"Weren't you listening? To save your life. And I'm making it a condition of your release into my custody--our first stop is either city hall for a licence or else city jail." She took a step towards him. "Your choice." She tilted her head to meet his eyes, idly twisting a strand of black hair around a finger.
"Can I ask a question? How is my life in danger? And how would being engaged to you help save it?" Amusement flickered across Sian's face. Okay, that was more than one question. Another then. "And, if I may ask, how old are you?"
"Seven years older than you. As for the rest of it." Sian shrugged. Waves of hair quivered at the slight motion. "No one told me. I can only assume it has to do with another woman, one you'd otherwise be involved with."
"Ishtar." He remembered her overwhelming charisma and luscious figure in his bones, and in a certain betraying element of flesh.
"I think I'm being insulted." Sian cocked her head to one side, as if listening. "Take the insult and make it mine you say, Grams? Don't you think I have any pride? Do what to my pride? Grams, you're ever so crude." She reached a hand out to Roger. "We're going back to bed. And I'm warning you--call out the wrong name and you're going to be shot escaping custody."
* * * * *
"I'm sorry, Mr. O'Brien's not being held here... Ms. Bedarova." The police officer at the desk smiled but his humourless eyes gave a different message. She remembered Susan's advice to stay in character, and straightened.
"Then where is he," Feldspar read his badge. "Sergeant William Q. Smith?"
Susan stepped forward. "Ms. Bedarova has a busy schedule this morning. If you can't help us, find someone who can."
"That would be the Chief. If you could wait a few minutes, he'll be with you. I'll have a couple of officers escort you to our VIP waiting area."
The officers were directly behind her--four of them. This didn't feel right. "I don't wait for anyone." Feldspar wheeled and marched for the door, directly at two of the burly uniformed men. They moved aside just before she ran into them.
"Stop her. I said stop her. That's not Linda Bedarova. She's an impostor."
Feldspar hit the door running. Outside, she turned towards the hotel. Susan wasn't with her. Feldspar ducked into a doorway and changed into herself. Had they caught Susan? Was Susan who she'd seemed to be, or Belinda's agent? That seemed unlikely, but either way, Feldspar's first job was to ensure the rest of the party remained free. She continued back towards the hotel, walking as quickly as she could without seeming to run--she didn't want to attract attention. The police might be at the hotel, might already have Ishtar and Rabid, but she couldn't assume that and had to try and warn them before that happened.
They shouldn't have gone to the police station, should have left the hotel when Susan said Linda Bedarova had checked in somewhere else... she should have quit being Belinda. But all that was done. She couldn't dwell on past mistakes; just try not to make more. Outside the hotel, she paused. Was this a mistake? Would the police be there, waiting?
But if they were, they'd be waiting for a Belinda look-alike. She hoped her mother wouldn't have thought to have them watching for Feldspar as well. It was a chance she had to take, cautiously. She'd go to the suite and knock--pretend she was a fan. That decided, she straightened and strode into the hotel--must look like she belonged and knew where she was going.
There was no answer when she knocked. She tried again, louder. Nothing. Should she use the key and go in? No, it could be a trap. The police might be inside, waiting. She returned to the elevator and pushed the button. The door opened.
"Pardon us, miss." Police, six of them--they barely glanced at her as they pushed past. If she'd gone into the suite... but she hadn't... now what?
Find Ishtar and Rabid. Assume they figured things out and left. Where would they have gone? No fall back meeting place was set--no one had known they'd need one. The underground mall in the food area--first there, and then back to where they'd arrived on Terra. That's what she would do if she were in their place--go somewhere familiar and wait.
There, in the corner, their backs to the room--with their packs, and hers--thank the Unknown. She wound through the tables and sat, facing them and the room. Feldspar's face wasn't known, she hoped.
"Damn Belinda's going to pay for this. Had to leave most of my new clothes."
"How did you know to leave?"
"Had it pretty much figured when Susan phoned. Asked myself, what would I do if I were Belinda? After I finished puking, I pulled Rabid out of the shower and we got. Damn, you should see what this elf packs between his legs. No wonder he makes women scream."
Rabid grinned. "Susan convinced the police she was as taken in as everyone else. If you can look like someone else, you should. They're looking for Feldspar too--just don't have as good a description. And, from what Susan learned, you guys were right about Spinecracker--he's here with Belinda."
"Damn."
"That's my line." Ishtar narrowed her eyes. "And, in case you were thinking of going after Spinecracker, he's mine too. Gonna kill him." The lights in the mall flickered, went off and came on again, dimmer than before.
"He's yours." Feldspar knew a sign when she saw one. They were all too common of late. "And yes, Rabid, I can be someone else." She didn't want to admit it though.
"Well, maybe you should change now. Don't want you to get caught." He looked around nervously, as if he expected someone to leap on them at any moment. "Guess you should go do it in the ladies room."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Untrue... she was sure it wasn't. "There doesn't seem to be any immediate threat. Later... maybe. Besides, I'd think they'd be looking for you and Ishtar as well, and you can't change."
"Well, yes... I mean, no... we can't, but still..." Rabid paused. "They'll be looking for the three of us together, so... if you look different...."
Ishtar had been following the conversation with interest, examining Feldspar and Rabid in turn. Her eyes were on Rabid at the moment. "I wonder... nah, I've got an overactive imagination." She turned to Feldspar. "Are you being cautious, is it about what you're wearing?"
"What I'm wearing?" Ishtar couldn't know, couldn't have guessed... could she?
"Can you at least do a seeming on the equipment change? I know you can't
do clothes. But hey, that outfit will pass."
From her snicker, Ishtar knew. "I do illusions, not transformations." Feldspar paused... how much to tell? "The 'equipment' is no problem... if pressed, I can sometimes do a seeming on clothes as well." Until her concentration failed and reality came back. Of course, Skythane hadn't cared for her in clothes...
"Damn pity. Maybe one of these days..." Ishtar laughed. "His idea, I presume?"
"Whose idea? What are you two talking about? Who else can Feldspar look like?"
Feldspar sighed. "Skythane."
Ishtar was having a hard time controlling herself. "Figured that bundle of blond ego would get off ramming his own backside... damn it, girl, you're the ultimate masturbation fantasy. Hey, no need to blush."
"I'm not blushing... you're right and I never thought of it that way. That miserable..." She was so glad she'd dumped Skythane. "One problem, my mother and Spinecracker know Skythane." Although not the skinnier version she did...
"The local authorities don't." Ishtar's brow furrowed in thought. "But, come to think of it, no one's actually seen the claimed impostor and Bedarova at the same time, or will. Maybe your being her again sometime later would be a good idea. We might be able to convince people my poor mother is suffering a mental illness--nothing but the truth in my so humble opinion. I wonder if Roger can suggest some places she could appear?"
"And, I wonder where Roger is?" Feldspar stood. "Pardon me. I'm going to the ladies' room." She couldn't change into Skythane there but she might find a nook along the way. No... after... she did need to go to the ladies room... must be nerves.
Submissive and stupid wasn't her favourite role, but the police bought into it and let Susan go after only perfunctory questioning. How could she have known her Bedarova was a fake? Although, now they mentioned it, yes--Linda hadn't seemed aware of the details of her own career. She'd put it down to booze. Didn't that seem reasonable, considering what everyone knew of the woman's lifestyle? Matter of fact, she still thought there was only one Linda Bedarova, addled by the wasting effects of alcohol and other drugs. She almost convinced herself. And, as far as she could tell, the only reason the officers questioning her didn't believe her too was they'd been told otherwise--their brains were up the ass of the chain of command.
She'd kept her face blank, relying on years of playing dumb with her father in attempts to keep his abuse to a minimum, and then doing the same routine with her husband--ex-husband now, the brutal bastard. And it worked, all too well. She loved turning bigotry against the bigots. The slinky red dress gifted her by Ishtar helped--in it, Susan knew she looked like a high-class whore. Half right... at least once upon a time.
But that was the past and in the now she had to find Feldspar and company, most particularly Rabid--for a man, he had potential. At least he didn't like to hit. If she could convince him to consider her pleasure as well as his, he might even be worth trying to keep... no, that wasn't likely but until Feldspar was available, it was worth a try. Besides, she needed to deal with Spratt and the Westshire management. That, she'd play by ear--did she want her job back, or would she rather pound the crap out of Jack? The first time he'd made clear the conditions of her continued employment she'd complied--with her record, jobs were hard to find--she'd complied and ever since dreamed of how she'd resign... by performing an extemporaneous oral castration.
Feldspar and company first--and could she indulge in her "destroy Jack" fantasy after all? What would her new friends think of her when they found out what she was? Then again, when you can't hide something, flaunt it. Be who you are, and be proud. Or, at any rate, don't crush yourself. There were too many people out there willing to do that for you. And... was she back at the Westshire already? Distances shortened when you got lost in thought.
Susan straightened as she entered the lobby, nodded at the bellmen and went down the escalator to the underground mall. At a guess, she'd find the quest party there. The police wouldn't look for perpetrators so close to the scene of the crime--criminals usually fled... but the party weren't riffraff--except for her.
They weren't there. Or were they? If Feldspar could make herself seem someone else, could she also be invisible? Or, more likely, be yet another person? Susan looked for a woman in a black suit--lots of those, but none that seemed right. Feldspar wasn't present in any guise. Susan turned to go back up to the lobby. Coming down behind her... a thin blond man... His suit buttoned on the wrong side, and his smile was familiar. If Feldspar, as herself, was exquisite--and she was--as this man she was perhaps a bit of a pretty-boy, but sweet fantasies, was she ever hung! On Rabid it looked natural but on this man...
"Wow."
"Skythane would be so pleased to hear you say that." It was Feldspar's voice... deep for a woman, high for a man, but she could pass...
"Skythane? Sorry, it's just..." Just she was melting inside? Big 'just.' Susan took a deep breath, took a moment to get a hold on her hormones. "Where are Rabid and Ishtar?"
"Upstairs, with the hotel manager, I expect. Ishtar decided she'd rather attack than run." That smile again--perfect lips, that was it--as Skythane, whoever he was, Feldspar had perfect lips... strong, full, succulent. They actually suited her more as a man.
"Attack? How?"
"Well, she is Linda Bedarova's daughter." The lips curled. "Her poor mother is suffering from an erratic memory."
Susan nodded. "Too much booze. Exactly what I told them at the cop shop."
"I'm proud of you." Feldspar, as Skythane, stepped forward and gathered Susan into a hug, a woman's hug. Looked like a man but felt like a woman... Susan felt herself quiver with excitement. "You're horribly fickle, you know that?" Feldspar said in a quiet voice. "I like you. Maybe when this quest finishes..." A soft breath caressed Susan's ear and sent her over the edge, shuddering shamelessly in Feldspar's arms.
Damn idiot manager would believe anything. Had him eating out of her cleavage. Couldn't imagine anyone preferring elsewhere to the Westshire, not him--that helped. And Susan's boss, the inimitable Jack Spratt, was smarter than he pretended but not as shrewd as he thought.
"Now run this past old Jack once more, Miss Ishtar. Your mother kinda lost it in the middle of the night, wandered away and checked in somewhere else, with someone else. And now she's saying the Linda Bedarova staying here is a fake. Now, who's this guy she checked in with?"
Ishtar sighed. They'd gone over this again and again. If she knew the name Spinecracker was going by on Terra it would make things easier. "Like I told you, I'm not sure. There's a lot of people hanging around, trying to take advantage of the old battle-axe while her head is messed up."
Rabid spoke up. "Not that you'd understand the concept of exploiting the weak, getting them on their knees and taking advantage, would you, Mr. Spratt?"
"Look here, green boy, Jack's had just about all the crap he's going to take from you."
"Sure, hit me. Go ahead. Or do you only hit women?"
Spratt slammed a fist into his own open palm. "Quit tempting me, boy. Andre..." He turned to the manager. "Don't you think we've heard enough? Their story doesn't hang together."
"Well..."
Rabid jumped to his feet. "Andre, are you going to let this clown run your hotel? Ruin its reputation? If I were you, I'd fire him and rehire Susan Milano--as your security chief."
"Now, Mr. Rabid... Jack... would you both calm down please?" Andre looked like a deer surrounded by wolves. "Mr. Rabid, I may have been precipitous in terminating Ms. Milano's contract, but that can be rectified. And Jack, while I do value your opinion, Ms. Ishtar is right... reiterating it interminably furthers nothing."
"Huh?"
Ishtar clarified. "He told you to shut up, Jack."
"Andre, don't forget I know all about you and the head waiter." Spratt grinned. "Or should I say, the asshole head waiter."
Spratt shouldn't have said either thing. "Get out of here, Jack. Now. See me this afternoon. We'll discuss the terms of your continued employment at th
e Westshire at that time." There was a long silence in which Spratt opened and closed his mouth several times. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting that from the manager. Ishtar hadn't either. Could she push the advantage?
"Bring your damn kneepads when you come to see him, Jack my boy. I figure you're going to need them."
"Fuck." Spratt left without another word. He did slam the door.
"That was entirely unnecessary, Ms. Ishtar." There was a gleam in Andre's eyes.
"Consider it. Sex is often more about power than physical gratification. What's more… in case you hadn't noticed, our man Jack has false teeth. I'm told if they are removed the sensation is remarkable..."
"Yes... well... about your mother...."
Damn, they were down to the crunch. Ishtar didn't know what to say. "Yes... about my mother...."
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