Celta: Heart Choice Part 8

Looking around, she saw she was out of sight of any scrystones, and no one was around. She did a whirl and a dance and sang. No one in the world ever wanted to hear her sing, so it was always a solitary pleasure. She pirouetted up the path, enjoying this moment of sheer triumph. Later would come the hard work and sober thoughts. This was a time of happiness.

But the joy faded incrementally as a shadow fell over her mood, an itching started between her shoulder blades. Again, she stopped and looked around, and again she saw no one in the lush tangle of greenery, though she sensed someone. Her Flair wasn't great, and mostly involved charisma-a salesperson's Flair-but still . . . She slowed and kept her gaze sharp. Nothing but a steady feeling of oppression.

She reached the greeniron gates and let herself out, hurrying away from the estate and along the avenues of n.o.ble Country, but the tension didn't diminish until she joined others at the public carrier glider plinth. Holding her bag tight, she studied the people at the stop, then relaxed as she eased into conversation with them. No one odd.

As the huge glider pulled up and she boarded, she realized that was why she was spooked. Not only did she think someone was watching her, but she thought that someone wasn't quite right.

She shook off the feeling. No one had been on the estate today, but in the past a mind-linked Triad gang-Antenn's brother's gang-had fought there; perhaps their madness lingered. There was no curse on the estate, on the Residence. She'd have felt that easily enough. She wouldn't let such an idea enter her mind. This project was going to make her career, and she wouldn't let anything stop her from doing it right.

Not even her most unprofessional desire for Straif T'Blackthorn.

To ease his hot blood and tight body, Straif walked his estate. Let Mitch.e.l.la restore the inside, he'd take care of the grounds. Outside there would be no horrible memories of sickness and death. Instead of remembering his mother and father wasted with hollow cheeks and dull eyes, he'd see them as they stood strong and proud officiating as the Lord and Lady during Family Rituals. Instead of the sharp image of his sister's curled husk of a body, he'd remember her vibrant laughter as she played hide-and-seek with him.

Long gra.s.s, bushes, and trees grew dense in the gardens; the walls were solid except for a small broken door. There he sensed old fear and rage and evil. The gangs had used that door, particularly the Triad that had challenged T'Ash. His jaw set in anger that his estate had been invaded, used as a battleground. Following the years-old trail, he found where every Downwinder gang member had died, noted the traces of his cuz Tinne Holly and T'Ash. Hands on hips, Straif decided he'd need a priest and priestess to cleanse the ground, in addition to his own ceremonies. He strode up to an odd circular area and into the center before he realized it was clear due to strong s.e.x magic.

Seven.

As soon as Straif stepped into the cleared circle he was hard again. More than s.e.x magic-loving Flair, and it was so strong because it was tied to Pa.s.sage magic.

Pa.s.sage-the times when a highly Flaired person's psi overcame them and the power was mastered or the person shattered. The strength of the energy was doubled-someone had experienced two Pa.s.sages at once. A female.

Wild emotions rushed through him-l.u.s.t, loving, fear of loss. Traces of the other emotions that came with Pa.s.sage were blessedly little more than echoes. But still vivid images came to his mind, framed by what he wanted instead of the actual past. He saw Mitch.e.l.la's body in moonlight, curved and waiting for him, pa.s.sion on her features, beautiful arms reaching for him. He was naked and aroused and ready. He groaned and pulled away from the vision, walked away from the circle of influence, knowing his nights would be restless until he had Mitch.e.l.la.

Waiting on the verge was Drina, her tail curled around her paws and pink nose lifted. She curled her tongue in the additional cat sense and said, T'Ash and D'Ash mated here.

That answered the who. Now free from the sizzling desire, he could see T'Ash's Flair trail.

"Right," Straif said. "I'm going back to the broken door in the wall and setting a sealing spell on the wall section."

Much violence and pain.

"Yes. More than I want." Didn't he have enough pain a.s.sociated with his estate-the death of his Family-without coping with the destruction that others had brought to his land? That tasted bitter.

Drina trotted beside him. Much sign of kin-to-you in fight, and a hunting cat.

The tension in Straif eased a little, he sharpened his Flair-sight. "Tinne Holly, and Pa.s.sage Flair from him, too." Straif sighed. "No doubt that triggered many of the events that transpired, but I wish the whole thing had taken place somewhere else."

You can ask T'Ash for the whole story tonight. Drina sniffed, placed a paw on a curvy line that shone emerald to Straif. Sign of My sire, Zanth. He still hunts here. She glanced up at Straif. Maybe you should forbid him.

"Huh." Like forbidding a cat would be anything but futile.

They reached the wall, and Straif summoned as much energy as he could to say the spell to seal the wall. When he was finished, a fine slick of sweat covered his body, but as he looked at the tall brick wall, there was no door. He managed a crooked smile. This was a small thing, but vital. His estate would never be breached again from that door. It was also the first new spell he'd done to restore his home. It felt good.

He was still cheerful when he strode up the outside terrace steps and into the west wing.

"Welcome, T'Blackthorn," said the Residence. It sounded conciliatory. "Your shieldspell is potent. Well done."

"Thank you, Residence."

"A snack of furrabeast bites awaits the Fam. A mixture of fruit and nuts your mother made for you when you were a child is in the no-time."

Aching pain speared Straif at the memory, then faded-quicker than any had before, and he was grateful. "Thank you, Residence." His voice was steady and that was good, too.

"GrandLady Kalmi Lobelia vized and left a message in the holocache," said the Residence.

Straif grunted and followed Drina into the kitchen.

How do I access the no-time? she demanded of Straif, not contacting the Residence itself.

Straif snorted but relayed the question. The house indicated a small ident stone on the floor near the Fam no-time. Drina set her paw on the stone, and an instant later the bottom of the Fam no-time slid up, showing a plate of food. The cat dug in. Straif tapped the large no-time and a bowl of his fruit-nut mix appeared. He popped a handful into his mouth and crunched. It was as fresh as if his mother had made it a moment before. It was her recipe, something he'd never duplicated. With the taste, memories came of her making it with her own hands, of his sister throwing bits of it at him throughout his childhood.

He chomped down on the mix a little too hard and bit his tongue. He swore. To distract himself, he went over to the scry-bowl set on its own table and flicked the rim with a fingernail. "Holocache."

"One message," reported the bowl.

"Play it."

A holo formed above the bowl, but it was wavery, dim, and gray with gloom. He narrowed his eyes, but the figure remained indistinct and he realized it was an accurate projection of his old lover, Kalmi, in her ResidenceDen.

"Greetyou, Straif." Her voice was strong and mellifluous with natural Flair, a beautiful voice. The voice of an Oracle. "I hear you are remaining in Druida, and I know that T'Blackthorn Residence is a wreck." Straif winced. "Please feel free to stay with me. Farewell." Her voice was bored, as if scrying from duty, or maybe because he was a FirstFamily GrandLord again.

Straif paused the holo before it faded and looked at Kalmi. He couldn't see her face beneath the cowl-scarf Oracles worn as a sign of their profession, nor were her surroundings clear. Now that he thought of it, they'd always made love in the dark, and he remembered her Residence being dim. Of course, her ResidenceDen, where she did her prophetic work, would be shaded so she could use her Flair for prophecy better, but he recalled the house as one of gray shadows.

"Scry dismissed," he said, and the holo vanished. He crunched another mouthful of his snack and wondered if Kalmi was so weary with ennui that he'd be a welcome relief. She was a woman who needed constant stimulation-liked it to heighten her Flair.

But at their last parting, she'd thrown things at him in a fury that he was leaving to follow the lead on an herb that would bolster Blackthorn immunity to the Angh virus. She'd predicted the search would be futile. She'd been right.

Over the years he'd spent a lot of time with Kalmi. She was secondary in prophecy to the GreatHouse Vine.

One of the few things he'd done before he'd left Druida the first time at seventeen was to consult the ancient GreatLady D'Vine about his quest for a cure for his faulty gene. He'd ached for his Family, wanted to found another, but he never wanted to be the surviving Blackthorn a second time. D'Vine had stared at him with her penetrating gaze, and though he thought she'd seen his future, she'd refused his gilt and refused to tell him anything. Which had shivered his nerves for years. So he'd never dared face the old woman again. Instead, he'd gone to Kalmi.

He thought of her, of how he'd slaked his pain and need in her body. How he'd touched her with tenderness. But somehow, even before that last scene, their affair had soured. He couldn't pinpoint the time, or how, but now he knew any feelings he had for her were gone, never to return.

He erased the holo.

That evening, Mitch.e.l.la dressed for her usual dinner with T'Ash and D'Ash in a mood of cheer. She had work! Excellent work, independent of any referral by her good friend Danith. Life's wheel of fortune was finally turning for her, and soon she'd be on top! Of course, indirectly, Danith had referred Drina to her, and Drina T'Blackthorn, but if Mitch.e.l.la knew anything at all, it was that cats didn't do anything they didn't want to. Drina was a sn.o.b and a snot, but the little Fam had good taste.

So Mitch.e.l.la would celebrate with D'Ash and her HeartMate, and wouldn't let the drawbacks of the job enter her mind or pa.s.s her lips. With a little time since the kiss and an upsurge of optimism, Mitch.e.l.la had determined that she was capable of being completely involved in the project and completely uninvolved with the GrandLord. He was a gentleman. He'd take "no" for an answer. She would not let her body rule her head because it would doom her career.

She wore an expensive, long emerald tunic embroidered with gold-looking thread, a garment that she'd scolded herself for purchasing when her income was so low. She'd hidden it in the closet to forget the expense. She fluffed her hair with a small spell and donned the glisten earrings and necklace Danith had given to her as a nameday gift. T'Ash had made the set, and if she wore it, he might even speak to her civilly.

It was time they put that little incident between them in the past, not to be remembered. After all, she'd been the one thrown across the city, all he had experienced was a bit of anger at her falsehood that Danith was sterile. Yes, this was an evening for new beginnings, new plans.

Impulsively, she reached for her new crystal oracle ball for a quick daily divination, but before she picked it up, Antenn's lagging footsteps clumped to her door and he pounded on it.

She opened her door, bent down, and smooched his forehead.

He sniffed. "You're wearing perfume, why's that if you're just going to the T'Ashes?"

Reaching out, she ruffled his hair and patted his cheek. "Women don't use perfume just for men, you know. I like the smell, it makes me feel exotic." She whirled. "Danith likes this scent, too." Mitch.e.l.la opened her mouth.

"Don't sing!" Antenn clutched his chest. "Zow. You look great, you smell great. You'll have a great time. I'm glad you feel great-just don't sing."

Mitch.e.l.la turned the first notes of a tune into a laugh. "Are you sure you want to stay here alone instead of visiting the Clover Compound?"

With a weary sigh, Antenn propped himself against her doorjamb. "I'm tired of the Clovers."

Hearing the incipient whine in his voice, Mitch.e.l.la kissed his cheek. "You've been very good, so I'll grant this strange need for solitude."

He grunted. "You Clovers think being with people is the best thing in life. We aren't all like you, you know."

Mitch.e.l.la just raised her eyebrows.

The scrybowl trilled from downstairs. She flitted from the room and down the stairs. Running a finger around the top of the bowl, she answered, "Here."

"You know," Straif said to Drina as he strode to T'Ash's, "though we talked about your jewelry this morning, we are still in the probationary phase of this relationship."

Drina was walking instead of riding on his shoulder, and she stopped in midstep and looked up at him with cold, blue eyes. She hissed. She snarled.

Straif suppressed a grin. "Not to mention the gilt I'm spending on a room especially decorated just for you."

She sat. Her whiskers twitched. She lifted her nose in the air. I am helping Mitch.e.l.la Clover restore the Residence for Our status and comfort.

He noticed comfort came secondary to the cat. He thought Mitch.e.l.la already knew it was his first priority. Straif rocked back on his heels.

"All you did today was bully me into giving you a room and bully the Residence into cleaning it."

Drina hissed again. I accompanied you and Mitch.e.l.la on the tour. I examined the rooms by Scent and know which ones are Not Good for Us.

Straif scowled. "Do you?"

You smelled different at different doors, she ended with excruciating honesty.

He shifted his shoulders. "I see."

Straif said, "You also raucously interrupted a private moment between Mitch.e.l.la and me. If you want your jeweled collar and your pretty room, you'll be more discreet and better behaved."

Mating. Boring, Drina huffed, rising and turning onto the street to T'Ash Residence.

Straif caught up with her easily. "Your word that you won't deliberately disturb me when I am-taking pleasure-with Mitch.e.l.la Clover again. Or you'll have a plain collar."

Drina stopped, flattened her ears, glared at him from the corner of her eyes. Her tail lashed. Straif kept quiet.

With a final hissed breath, Drina turned and trotted to T'Ash's greeniron gates. I agree.

Straif positioned himself in front of the scrystone set in the wall next to the gate and flicked a fingernail against it to activate the viz.

"Name?" asked a smooth, rich voice. The man looking out from the stone was older and distinguished with features far different than T'Ash's own. A hired man, just as Straif would have to hire someone who would have no blood in common with his Family.

"T'Blackthorn," Straif replied. He stooped to lift Drina to his shoulder. "With my Fam, Drina."

The man flushed slightly, then said in dour tones, "Drina."

"Another admirer?" asked Straif.

Drina sniffed, lifted a paw, and licked it. Nice trick since she was balanced on his shoulder. He is n.o.body. Everyone who is Anyone adores Me.

"The shieldspell on the gates is now modified to admit you two," the butler said.

"Right," Straif said. No one seemed to like Drina. Fancy that. For a small cat, she sure had made her presence felt.

One-half of the gate swung open.

Drina rubbed her head against his cheek and purred.

Well, maybe he liked her. Most of the time.