Dzarny wasnat moving, and he should be. What kept him? Durkas idiots were acting likea"like idiots. Emily was losing all control. She was terrified just because some boy from the Planetoid showed up in her office wanting contacts. It meant nothing, he told her, but even if it did, didnat she realize how easily he could take care of it? But she was panicked.
And now Jaguar was walking in her power, dangerous and beautiful.
A shudder ran through him, starting at the lowest vertebral neural synapse and spreading outward, upward. He blinked hard and reached out a hand. Felt for the source of the energy, which seemed to swim in the air around her. Elusive. Unique. Beautiful and hers.
aShe is walking in her power,a he muttered to himself. aShe is walking.a He could feel it, pulsing through his hand, but he couldnat touch it, couldnat wrap himself around it the way he wanted to. Patience, he reminded himself. Walk slow and walk soft. This is all new. If he moved slowly into understanding, the pleasure of that could all be his.
If she didnat eat him first.
In her power, she might be capable of that. It was so hard to find out what a chant-shaper could actually do. They were so rare, and kept themselves so hidden.
He would like to feel her living body dance with his. Perhaps he could sing to her. There were many songs he knew that might work. Or, he could simply explore her with his own art. Touch her in places she hadnat been touched.
She would bring him what he wanted even more than he wanted her. Though he had to admit that the more he knew her, the more his desire for her grew. The means had become an end in itself, and he antic.i.p.ated a great deal of enjoyment in achieving his goal.
His hand, aching for her, dropped back down onto the table. Head have to consider what to do about Emily first. And perhaps it would be best to remove the boy who came to see her. He had a few ideas about that already.
11.
as.h.i.t,a JAGUAR MUTTERED WITH FEELING as she simultaneously caught the toe of her brown suede boot on a loose piece of tile and let slip a pile of papers from her hand.
She stooped down to pull the heel from the floor and retrieve the papers, stood, and straightened herself. Did a visual scan of her clothing. She was having a hard time keeping track of her mundane self. Her clothes. Her work. Did the students notice she looked distracted? Did she have her sweater on inside out? Did she have her sweater on?
She knew she was walking at night, because she woke in the morning disheveled and exhausted. Or she came to in odd pockets of the tunnels that she didnat recognize. At a faculty meeting, shead felt the energy surge that presaged the moment, and had to excuse herself quickly.
Shead gone to her office, laid her head on her desk, and waited to see if it would pa.s.s, or lead her on.
Whispers spoke in her, thick as night. The information acc.u.mulated during night walks translated itself slowly into waking words. She was gathering information, some of it available to her waking self, and some of it not.
Katia needed to be watched. There is a soul thief waiting nearby. Make no contact.
But that was all.
Her people were riding her hard. It left her confused and liable to fall and hurt herself. She straightened herself, took a step forward, then stopped.
Slow darkness moved through her, then was still.
The strident sound of an angry female voice was coming from one of the offices. She heard it with preternatural clarity, as if it was next to her left ear.
She concentrated, locating the sound two doors down, and walked carefully toward it, minding that her heels didnat click as she went.
Then she stood very still and listened.
aachances are slim? How can you base anything on odds like that? I told you heas asking questions.a Both the office and the voice belonged to Emily Rainer.
aYou might trust him, but I donat. And that girlas not stable.a Then a low rumbling male voice. She couldnat distinguish either the words or the person who spoke them. She moved closer, and found that it did no good. Emilyas voice rang clear as a bell. The male voice was distorted, rumbling thunder that made no words.
aLet her go,a Emily said, aThatas what I suggest. You donat need her, even if you do want hera"a The male voice, interjecting.
She lifted a hand and put it out in front of her, trying to hear with her hand, then, just as quickly, she pulled her hand back and rubbed it.
No contact. Donat make any contact.
In her hand she felt a tingling, as if she had touched a humming wire, and nothing else. Somewhere on the other side of that door was someone who was using the arts, and setting up a cloaking that she had never encountered before.
The sound of Emilyas laughter, and again her voice, this time quite loud. aI have nothing to lose by talking. Not anymore. You just remember that.a That sounded final enough to Jaguar. She quickly exited the scene, turning a corner, where she stopped and waited, listening as heels clicked toward her, then receded.
Jaguar waited to see who would come out of Emilyas office next. This wasnat safe. None of it. But she had to know who, even if she couldnat know what or why or how.
The door to Emilyas office stayed closed. She could wait longer, or she could knock on the door and see who opened. She sniffed the air for knowledge, and found none. Only a rippling in her skin, disturbed electrochemical responses, and the slip of night her only cloak, her only protection. Here we go again, she thought.
You are being watched. Walk now.
She straightened, glided silently down the hall, noted that the walls were a vision in infrared and she could feel her pupils dilating to read it.
Now. In time to the sighing, it emerged from her and not from her. Old friend. Circling slowly. s.p.a.ce curved back in on itself and walked in circles. She curved her body around it and let the curl of time she had become carry her down the halls, scenting the air for knowledge.
Go. Down the stairs. Go now.
Down the stairs and through the doors, into tunnels that were dimly lit, tunnels she saw in the leached infrared of vision available to her.
She scanned the corridor she was in. Saw it as familiar. Shead walked here already, knew the layout, where corner met door, where trash went, where great canisters of Arcon and Lacro were stored, where pipes became warm as heat flowed through them. Shead seen it with night eyes, in the darkness of reduced lighting. Shead walked many places, understanding them through scent and the infrared edge of vision. And the knowledge she gathered from these walks existed inside her without words, and was acc.u.mulating. It would be there for her when she needed it.
The corridor seemed to roll on with no breaks for quite some time, snaking Escher-like toward nowhere, or perhaps back toward itself. An optical illusion of unchanging landscape, giving you the feeling that you were going nowhere. That you were standing still.
She opened one of the black doors and walked on, toward what she knew were the dormitories. The tunnels narrowed here, and there were no lights because they werenat supposed to be in use. She walked, and quickly realized that someone walked behind her.
She heard footsteps trailing her, and she walked on.
The presence had a smell that was slightly familiar. A student? Katia? Steve? No. A smell she didnat a.s.sociate with this place.
Hide. Now.
The directive propelled her forward, and to the shelter of a pile of desks waiting to be carted away for repair or recycling.
She sat, listening, feeling her own vision return to her. She swallowed, felt at her hands and arms. Put her hands to her face. All present and accounted for. And waiting for company.
There. Footsteps drawing closer. Closer. She could smell the human presence, sense when to leap anda"
Now.
Her long arm reached out and grabbed a chunk of flesh, flung it to the cement floor, and held it there. She put her body on his back, holding one of his arms back, and with her other hand pinching hard at the back of his neck.
She waited for him to speak.
aUm, Dr. Addams,a he said, ado you mind letting me explain this?a She frowned at the body under her. She recognized that voice. Someone from Alexas office. She stood and flipped him onto his back. Stared hard.
aBrad?a she asked.
He sat up, rubbed at his arm. aYes, Dr. Addams,a he said. aItas me.a aOh, for f.u.c.kas sake,a she said. aWhat are you doing here?a She put a hand down and helped him to his feet, then stood with her hands on her hips and tapped a foot. aGo on,a she invited him, aexplain yourself.a He breathed in and out deeply. aIam keeping an eye on you.a aFor whom?a aSupervisor Dzarny,a he said, and held a hand up to protect his face when he saw hers.
aAlex sent you? To watch me?a aHe was worried, Dr. Addams. Heasa"worried.a Alex was worried. Alex was worried. She was going crazy, and he was worried. In her fury, she turned glittering eyes like blades to Brad, stuck a finger in his face.
aTell him,a she hissed, and then she stopped.
Tell him what?
Something she needed to tell him. She listened. In her and around her, the swirling energy of the chant-shape moved. Alex had to do something. She had to tell him.
She raised golden eyes to a very surprised Brad. Spoke into him and around him.
Go back and tell him he must choose. Tell him. GO. NOW.
Within the vision that was filling her and becoming her, she saw him retreat down the tunnels, running away from her. Very fast.
Planetoid Three, Toronto Replica Alex went directly home after the omega scan and tried to telecom Jaguar. He tried five times, in five different places. Each time the connection failed, not even allowing him to leave a message. He debated leaving a message at the department office, making it sound urgent, but was reluctant to make that public a move. Then Bradas most recent report came through, and he was glad he waited.
Head had nothing new to report in the last week. No one had tried to contact him about curing empaths. Nothing was new with Private Sanctions. He continued to follow Jaguar, who was teaching, spending time with a student named Katia Stone, with Ethan Davis. Yesterday, she went with Leonard to the local Serials memorial and put flowers in the snow. She seemed a little distracted.
He thought of her, putting flowers in the snow. It had snowed there. Somehow, head gotten through almost three months without her. Somehow, the great gaping holes she left in his life carried him through time anyway, though they still felt like great gaping holes.
Then, today, Brad reported that shead spotted him following her in the tunnels. All was not well. Brad described her as agitated. She said things he didnat understand. Something about Alex had to choose. She didnat say choose what. Implicit in her words was the command to stay away until he did choose.
Words spoken in the chant-shape were always the truth. Actions always had something true in them. That was the nature of the beast. Alex would like to pretend he didnat know what she meant, but he couldnat. Choose. Choose the truth. Stay away until you do.
He made dinner for himself, then found he was too tired to eat. A darkness folded around him. A malaise of almost sorrow. He went and sat in his rocking chair, stared out at the lake, and tried to think of nothing. Time moved around him slowly, carefully. His hand twitched in his lap, and he watched it twitch. Adept s.p.a.ce, curving around him, unsought.
All right, he thought. Okay.
He waited for the falling to begin, relaxed into it, feeling boundaries dissolve around him as he was washed away into what would be. Into what would be.
Into rain forest, thick and steamy. Click and buzz of wings and call of birds. A river, and a log in the river that he stepped onto.
Wait. Thatas the past. Not right.
Stepped onto the log, and as it carried him downriver, he saw the great golden eyes of the jaguar, seeking him. Seeking him as his ancestors sought light and heat and sun.
Give me your eyes.
He turned to her, saw the golden fire she promised.
Her eyes pulled at him. He was already chosen. That was the truth. But he could refuse it. He had a choice, too.
As if I ever wanted one.
He felt her laughter resonate within him, saw her float away down the river as he swam up into normal time and s.p.a.ce, opened his eyes, and blinked at his own reflection in the darkened window.
aWhat?a he asked, a short prayer to the deities that swarmed him. aWhat?a And like their namesake, the jaguar people made no response.
He pushed himself up from his chair, and walked into his living room.
Choose.
He couldnat make the vision go away. He could only make her go away, as he had.
He took a deep breath. Walked over to the part of the living room where a dart set hung on the wall, and opened it, pulled out the darts, and stood back from the board.
He hefted a dart in his hands, felt the weight of it, let it rest on his finger in perfect balance.
Okay, he said to himself, so you want her. You want her in your bed. Thatas no surprise. Sheas beautiful and compelling and wild. What man doesnat look at her and feel a yearning? Itas nothing to be ashamed of. But youave never made her pay for your unkempt desire.
Head been willing to work with her in a growing cloud of unresolved s.e.xual tension. He hadnat said a d.a.m.n word to her about it, never plagued her with what he considered to be his problem.
What a saint, he chided himself. Saint and martyr. As if she needed his protection in that. She wasnat a child, and she wouldnat take offense at honest desire. She might not necessarily take advantage of it, either, but he wouldnat be harming her by telling her about it. So why hadnat he talked to her about it?
He closed his eyes, tossed the dart, and it stuck on the outside ring.
All right, then. Maybe itas more than that. More than l.u.s.t. But he wasnat about to act on it even if it was. He was her supervisor, dammit, and he wouldnat breach protocol with her.
He tossed another dart, eyes shut, and it bounced off the board, fell onto the floor.
ah.e.l.l,a he muttered. aIave never been her boss. n.o.body has.a And that was the truth. When they worked together it was as a team, and an excellent one. She told him once that she didnat worry too much about getting in trouble, because if she had to quit her Planetoid job, she could always sign on with Moon Illusion full-time. Or go back to Jake and One Bird. Or teach at a college. She knew how to take care of herself, and never gave him more power than was his by innate talent or experience. His t.i.tle meant very little to her. Even in this situation, she could have refused to go, resigned, walked away. That she hadnat was significant, though he wasnat sure what it signified.
He closed his eyes, stood swaying in the internal darkness, darts in his hands.
Tell me what, he asked himself. The part of me that knows. Just say it.
Choose.
He was chosen long ago. Soul work beyond his control. Spirits wandering, seeking sun and finding each other, waiting for the knowledge to become action and words. He had seen long ago. Now he was being asked to live it.
How can I? he asked, desperation in his belly. How can I?
How did you love something wild without either domesticating it, or being eaten by it?
Somewhere inside him, he heard laughter. He knew the answer to that.
Feed it.
You could live with something wild, as long as you kept it well fed.
He knew that. That was how head worked with her so successfully all these years. But no matter what he chose, she would always be wild, raw, untamable. What he found most valuable in her was what made all of this such a risk. Because even if he chose her, there was no telling what shead choose. The stakes were too high, and the odds were too d.a.m.n low.
Like stone hitting stone and making sparks, his words slammed into truth at last, and he knew.