Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 In Shadow, Daiva 04
   by Nysidra
   <->
   -_ Sacrifice _-
   Jeremy carried his folded linen to his room.  The creak and groans of
the house rocked like a massive ship at sea.  Her name drew his attention.
He edged closer to the bannister.
   "Not in detail," said Alexander, "but Setamious told me all I had the
patience to hear.  Antasia asks for more than he answers.  Do you know?"
   "It is easy to see that she is uncomfortable." Kalahari's voice was the
one with the unpleasant rasp, "Odd, when she has been daiva for many years.
Do you place value in his testimony?  That she is the witch reborn?  I
thought the woman a tale of his creation."
   "Many have taken us for tales, and yet we are not.  Setamious is
convinced of his records, as a king willingly dines on lies.  He has set
the fantasy aside several times.  I give his testimony the same value for
truth as the stars for light.  In times of great darkness, both can be of
use."
   "She seems normal to me, a bit shy, too fretful given her power."
   "Witches often appear normal.  They power they use is the same we
absorb. How many times were you nearly burned for sorcery?"
   Kalahari chuckled.  "To man, a witch and a whore are one in the same,
especially a whore with an equal taste for wives and daughters." Her
laughter died off.  "Setamious will kill her if she proves herself the one
reborn."
   "A horrible conjecture to make, Kali."
   "A worse thing to come to pass.  We speak of Setamious.  The horror he
brings cannot be ignored nor forgotten.  He is pleasant and agreeable until
he judges you a blight on the world.  He only follows the blood line so
that he can slit her throat.  Antasia is the only one who can bring him to
heel.  I've seen her do it, at risk to her own life."
   Alexander laughed.  "Yes, his crusade has brought much pain and misery
to those he judged guilty, but I have seen him set some wicked creatures to
right."
   "If Felicia were all he claimed, she would put oceans between them."
   "No ocean or mountain range has ever stalled Setamious.  Stay out of his
affairs, if the woman wants to keep to herself, let her.  No matter our
positions, she is his progeny."
   "Why did he choose her as his progeny and not any of those that came
before?"
   "Stay out of it."
   "I find much missing from this story, but I will leave it incomplete as
you request."
   ***
   Felicia's association with Setamious was not a marriage, something less
cooperative.  She was his ward, gaining his leniency with sex and
obedience. That she formed a secret friendship with Jeremy violated his
control.  That she shared her body with him did not matter.
   While apart, she thought about him - daiva like him out there in the
world.  Born of the current age, comfortable with being the aggressor,
kind, compassionate.  All she could do was wonder.
   What she did with Setamious was for her survival, not her entertainment.
What they had was not love, but dependance.  Part of that survival meant
feeding.
   Though she had been given her own room, it comforted Setamious for her
to choose his bed.  She rolled over and caressed his temples.  Her good
behavior granted her no reward.  She mentioned getting her books once, to a
swift and curt denial.
   "Stop," Setamious mumbled and pushed at her.
   "Be still." She had to reach deep for the energy she was allowed to
take, that he usually gave freely, but not since they had come to
Alexander's house.
   "You don't need it."
   "I know.  You've made that clear.  This is wanting." She placed her
other hand to his sternum.  If she knew where to look, perhaps she could
learn the location of her items without him.
   He smacked her hand away.  "Do you listen to anything I tell you?  You
are a daiva.  If you need something, go to one of Alexander's people."
   "It's not the same."
   "Exactly why you cannot have it anymore."
   She massaged his shoulders and straddled him.  "Relax." She leaned
forward and kissed him.  She needed what he gave her.  It made her feel so
much better.  It didn't require pulling, just reaching...
   "I'm going to throw you off this bed."
   "Don't do that." She nibbled on his ear.  "Close your eyes."
   He did so with a low groan.  A sensation like butterflies, fireworks,
and weightlessness filled the core of her soul.  "Done!" She leaned back
and giggled.
   "What did you do?"
   Felicia moaned and rocked her hip over Setamious' thigh.  Another moan
as the orgasm, or something quite close to it had her lose track of time
and place.
   "Move," said Setamious.
   She put her hand to her chest.  Laughter rose from her like a fountain
rising into the air, breaking through her sensibility and fear.  "Just
rest." More unfettered laughter.
   "What did you do, Felicia?"
   She tried and failed twice to stop laughing.  The third time she managed
to calm herself long enough to speak.  "Different than daiva, a siphon ...
I know things." She knew things about him, things that soured the brief
flare of joy.
   Where were her books?  That answer was not among the pile.   -""And?"
   "Didn't need your fucking permission.  I have my own skills." The
attempt at anger or fear faded.  Felicia collapsed on top of him shaking
with giggles.
   "Why are you laughing?" Setamious questioned through gritted teeth.
   Oh, he was furious.  Such an angry boy!  More giggles.  "I'm happy! 
Happy, happy.  Oh, this feels wonderful.  Fuck me."
   "You don't know how to control such power."
   She didn't need to!  "I can." Felicia held a straight face for ten
seconds before bursting into a laughing fit so intense that she struggled
to breathe around it.
   "You don't know what you've taken, and from a daiva without permission?
How dare you be so brazen!"
   Why is he yelling?  Some people had sensitive ears.  "Shush."
   "Is this how you plan to live now?  Destroying others for your own
greed?"
   She shook her head and rolled onto her back.  Fight.  She had to fight
it.  Fight her own happiness.  "No.  I wanted to separate them.  I've done
it before, before you found me.  It's only you and me here."
   "Give it back.  Now!"
   Felicia sat up and moved to strike him, but he caught her hand and
restrained her.
   "I said, now."
   The strength of his hold, the sneer in his voice cut through her giddy
state, her irreverence.  The weight of his fury settled on her.  This was
more than him being upset.
   She took something more potent than energy, had always been able to,
even before she was a daiva, sometimes.  This was not the same.  He was not
normal.  And yet, she could no more give it back than she could pour
spilled blood back into a wound.
   "Let me go."
   He must have trusted that she had calmed.  Felicia got out the bed,
pulled on her gown.
   "I'm waiting."
   She turned toward him and made a gesture in the air, her fingers moved
as she said, "You call desire greed." She tied her robe closed and did
something else, flailing her hands in frustration.  "Have fun with them
tonight.  I will stay behind."
   All her elation lay at her feet like a deflated balloon.  And then she
heard that strangled sound in her throat, her silent sorrow.
   ***
   Setamious was still seated in the center of his bed long after Felicia
left the room.  That gesture, the movement of her hands, her arms.  He knew
that language like an old song.  He rolled from his bed, but he did not
have access to his books.  He had left them behind along with Felicia's as
a last effort to keep her from sliding further toward damnation.
   He was sure she did not have control over the movement, that she did not
know she communicated behind the gloss of her words.  One thing was for
sure, a handful of daiva knew that language, but only Silurie added the
curl of her fingers.
   Silurie.  She would not have done this, thought him so blind that he
would not notice her return.  Why not?  Had he not given her the freedom to
flourish the first time?  Was he not by her side while she grew more
fearsome with each passing season?
   Setamious did not need a record.  He knew his memory.  He knew the
mistakes he had made.  Mercy could not be an option this time.
   "I won't allow you to poison this world, Silurie.  I mean that will all
my heart.  I will destroy her flesh before you consume her soul."
   He would tell the others tonight.  He could not take her life without
Alexander's grace.  If he did not get it, then they would leave.  She was
not a daiva, but an evil masquerading under its guise.
   ***
   Felicia paced in Jeremy's room, clenching and unclenching her fists. 
"How are my abilities so crass?" She slipped out of her gown.  "Years,
forced to feed only from him, and now I must be satisfied with crumbs."
   With a huff she collapsed on his bed.  The others had gone on their
hunt. Felicia and Jeremy and a handful of staff were the only ones in the
house.
   "He does not trust you."
   "I make mistakes.  He gets frustrated with me, less now than he once
did. He'll calm down after the hunt."
   "He plans to kill you after the hunt."
   She bolted upright.  "How?  When?  What did he say?"
   "Not you.  He believes Silurie seeks control of you.  He does not see
Felicia."
   "But I am ...  I am." She shook her head.  Why did she have to choose?
   "You were born into this world, no matter what powers caused it to be
so. You were born Felicia.  It is your life to defend."
   "You heard him say something."
   "Yes." He stopped her reply with a kiss, a light touch, then again,
holding longer.  "I want you to live.  You caused me to forget the sound of
screams and wails of agony.  You keep me smiling with those songs of yours
when I should have been fighting off the call of the banshee." His kiss
lingered, his thumb brushed over her hip.  "Within your voice I have found
hope.  Within me, you may find a way to survive."
   "What do you mean?"
   "I do not want to hear the ghosts.  I do not want to remember the pain.
I want to die."
   She blinked.  His kisses and small touches where not those of a suicidal
man, nor was the warm rod that pressed to her belly.
   Laugh.
   So deeply she had repressed the instinct that it would not rise now. 
She could only give thought to a reaction.  "I don't understand what you
want from me."
   "You are kept by him, watched, controlled.  A man who keeps you weak,
who fears you, yet demands you arouse him with a show of strength.  The
others know and assume that he will kill you, and they do not care.  I
hear; I remember; I feel.  When I touch you, when I hear you, all I do is
feel.  My ancestors have whispered the answer my torment.  I know how I
must save you."
   Don't laugh.  Don't even smile.  "How?"
   "You say you can know the mind of others?  How does it work?"
   "I thought it worked when I fed, as a daiva, on accident, when I was
normal.  I used to pick up random thoughts, experiences, but I think I can
focus it.  I haven't been able to work on it."
   "What if I try to give you that experience, my knowledge?  Will you
try?"
   "Don't want me feeding from you?"
   "In due time." Jeremy kissed her, put his hand behind her head. 
Memories flooded her mind, caused her whole body to shiver and sway with
the horror of it.
   "What happened?" She belched and had to stretch out on the bed.
   He wiped the sweat from her brow.  "All that I knew and loved was lost.
I cannot kill him, but I can die for you.  I will spill my blood for your
freedom.  What I said is the truth?"
   She nodded.
   "He will regret forcing you to remain weak, shaming you for wanting to
know your birth right.  When he finds you broken, injured, and defenseless,
he will spare and you give you the leniency you need."
   She inched away from him, stepped into her clothes while facing him. 
"You think I ...  what if he ...  what about me?  What if I am the one that
is crazy?  What if I am just a normal woman?  What if everyone is wrong? 
You cannot see into my soul for the truth."
   He approached and put his hands on her shoulders, rounded down until
those hands rested on her hips.  "You once asked me how much I can hear. 
From you I hear a faint melody, as if from across a field, a song that
would clear itself if I could only get closer.  This melody is not in some
distant field, it comes from within your spirit.  He is not wrong, Felicia,
and we know he is not.  I hear your music, great witch."
   Felicia swallowed thickly.  Her heart pounded in her chest.  "This is
going to hurt, isn't it?"
   "In a moment," he pulled her into a lover's kiss, powerful, possessive.
He gripped the back of her neck and pinned her to the wall.  Caught in the
echoes of lust, her leg lifted, wrapped around his waist.  He bit her on
the lip, hard, unforgiving, cruel.  With that pain came the crushing wave
of his anguish, the intense malaise.
   She struggled and and pushed, but it wasn't enough to get him away from
her.  "Damn fool, you!" She tongued the cut that caused her mouth to fill
with blood.
   "You will need to fight harder than that." His tone had turned hard,
chilly, the verdant green of his eyes darkened to the color of the swamp in
winter.  "I'm far older than you assume, darling."
   She whimpered and scrambled for the door, but Jeremy grabbed her by the
hair and snatched her back.
   "No.  Jeremy!  Wait, stop.  I don't want to do this.  Let me take care
of him on my own.  Please.  I won't say anything."
   He wrapped his arm around her neck.  "Perhaps I test whether you deserve
the life you beg for.  Are you worthy of my sacrifice?  A daiva will die
this night.  Which will it be?"
   She twisted, yanked, went weak in her knees, scratched and kicked. 
Where she pulled, he followed, his grip never lessened.  Felicia knew how
this story ended.  She could not fight, never had the skill.  When they
separated, each swing went wild.  They tumbled over the floor giving and
receiving blows.  Saliva and blood and sweat co-mingled on their clothing.
   Felicia didn't want to hurt him, but she couldn't let him keep hurting
her either.  Immortality did not matter in the face of unending torment.
   A tingling fire spread through Felicia's jaw that left her numb in its
wake.  Her ears rang out one high tone as her face throbbed in time with
her pulse.  The momentary ring drowned out the growing pain in other parts
of her body.
   She tried to run, only to have him grab her leg and snatch her back,
making a mockery of her feeble attempt.  He pinned her arms beneath his
legs and sat on her.  He grabbed her by the head and banged it on the
floor. "Fight!" Another punch, the other jaw.
   She coughed blood, but nothing she did helped her dislodge the weight of
his body.
   "You want me up?" He stood.
   She went for the door, but he was lightning quick in reaching her again.
He grabbed her ankles and stomped on her pelvic bone.
   Felicia shrieked.  By his pained expression, that was loud enough to
hurt those sensitive ears.  She screamed again, as loud as she could. 
Covering his ears, he kicked her in the stomach.
   No more screaming.  She puked on the floor beside her head.
   It would hurt, but everything hurt.  To create a daiva, Setamious once
told her, the pain is said to be worse than normal childbirth, and as
dangerous.  She knew another way, a way that worked, a way that left her
with pain for days.  A way that sacrificed a piece of herself to create
something anew.
   She caught Jeremy's eyes.  She rolled onto her side, propped on one
elbow.  Bleeding, drooling, wheezing.
   "Ah, there she is, rising from her dungeon." Blood dripped from the gash
on his face.  "Fare thee well, great witch."
   She pushed it all into one word.  A word of nonsense, syllables
distorted by pain and swelling.
   ***
   Setamious spoke to the others about Felicia.  When he sensed her
distress, he dismissed it as anger.  Kalahari was the most vocal in her
opposition, questioning his motives, his memory.  The hunt had begun when
he sensed her pain.  He turned without a word to the others and sped toward
Alexander's house.  He had not moved at such speeds in hundreds of years.
   In that moment, he knew without a doubt that she was too important to
him.
   He entered the massive house and turned in a circle.  Where was she? 
Why couldn't he get a sense of her location?  He located the room as the
others arrived.
   When Setamious battered down the door, he spied Jeremy first.  The man
lay limp against the wall covered in swelling wounds that seeped blood. 
Then Felicia, battered and bloody on the floor.  He went to his knees
beside her, searching for signs of life.
   He heard the others in a daze as if they were underwater.  Alexander
barked commands, instilling order, as was his way.
   "Can you move her?"
   Setamious nodded and gathered her into his arms.  Her body was limp, her
face, placid, signs of life, minimal.
   "Follow me."
   He lay her body on the sheet covered table.  Antasia pushed Setamious
out the way and cut down the center of her gown.
   Setamious had been a young man, his infatuation with Silurie new and
invigorating.
   "What do you do when injured?"
   Silurie laughed.  Her mirth was soft, genuine.  "Never.  I do not take
actions that lead to injury."
   "How do you know?"
   "How do you know when there is fire?  Unless you want to get burned,
stay away from the flame."
   "Accidents."
   She gestured and huffed.  "There are no accidents.  I see the line where
land kisses sky."
   He had never seen her body hurt.  Looking upon Felicia, he could not
imagine this girl had anything in common with his love.
   Setamious approached the table.  "I can manage from here."
   "Setamious.  Leave." Alexander positioned Felicia on the table,
straightening her arms and legs, then placed his hands to her neck.
   "I'm not leaving." Setamious frowned and looked among them.  "I'm--"
   "You told us she was able to take care of herself," said Antasia.  "You
told us she was too dangerous to bring with us.  Furthermore," she cursed
under her breath.  "You lied about the most sacred bond we share."
   Setamious barely got his mouth open before Alexander continued.
   "I will not lose a second daiva in my house.  You perpetuated the
falsehood regarding her mater, and allowed it to fester.  You are not her
mater.  Get.  Out.  Kali has two others in the next room over.  You will
need their energy."
   "I shouldn't--"
   Antasia rounded on him.  "You starved her in the efforts to hide your
perversions.  If she dies we will shout your mater's name until that bitch
brings her judgement on us all." Antasia spat at his feet.  "Do you wish
this upon us?"
   "No.  I do not."
   "Listen to the head of this fucking house!"
   Setamious bowed and left the room.
   Felicia was still unconscious when he returned, but she had been
cleaned, her injuries dressed.  Over half her body was wrapped or bandaged
in some manner.  He did not expect that, even given the evidence of battle,
he had seen that she was capable of defending herself.
   She should have been groggy, half delirious, complaining of muscle and
headaches, not lying unconscious on a table.  Her skin had been such a rich
earthy color when they first met.  Now he could follow the path of her
veins.  The shine of her coal black hair was missing, ashen in appearance.
   When Antasia pushed him, he did not resist.  His back hit the wall, but
he barely felt its impact.  "Are you listening?"
   He nodded.
   She wrapped her hand around his throat, the nail tips pierced his skin.
   "Yes, Mistress Antasia."
   "Better.  I want you to understand.  If she is so dangerous, why does
she lie at the threshold of death?  Why was her jaw broken, her ribs, her
legs, her pelvic bone?  Why is she beaten to a pulp?  She is just a fucking
woman, Setamious.  And yes, perhaps she twists the powers to her will on
occasion, but she is daiva first, and you will follow the law.  She is not
your progeny."
   "I understand, Mistress Antasia."
   She stepped back and drug him over to Felicia's side.  "Give her
whatever she needs."
   ***
   "Get that crate," Max said as he lifted the large suitcase by the door.
   Maxine did, but with her jaw set tight.  Her body shook with rage.  With
each trip from her apartment to his car, she felt the pain more keenly. 
She set the crate in the trunk.
   "This ain't right."
   He was already on his way back upstairs.
   She ran to catch up with him, her heels clacked on the wooden risers. 
Her bra strap dug into her shoulders.  She blocked his exit.  "I ain't
leaving.  This is my home."
   He pushed his way past her.
   Tears clouding her vision, she snatched up her garment bag - the last
item.  "I can move.  Another neighborhood.  I'll find other work.  If they
finds me out there, I'll knock their heads together.  Bam, bam.  All over.
Ain't no need for all this here."
   He snatched her into his arms and locked them tight around her.  "If
there wasn't a need, I wouldn't be here."
   "Fuck you," she cried.  "I like it here.  This city so damn big, won't
nobody find me."
   "Keys.  We don't have much time."
   She set them in his hand.
   "When I come back, I want you parked in that seat."
   Maxine got in the car and cried into her lap.  She never should have
called his fool ass, but her brother had a way of seeing his way out a
trap. That he knew the whole time she would have to leave steamed her
something fierce.
   <It's that school.  Huh?  You got a test to get back to?>
   He returned from her empty apartment and got into the car.  They pulled
out on the road.
   <Tell me where you taking me.  I'll drive myself.  Go back to your
books.>
   <Quiet.>
   <I am quiet.  Only you can hear me.>
   His grip tightened on the wheel.
   She waited until they were on the highway, city lights in the rearview.
<Thank you.  I can't see the strings like you do.  I didn't know.>
   <I'll teach you.>
   <You ain't got time for that.>
   "I said I would teach you, but you have to stop.  First with the fights,
then the prostitution.  Why were you in that man's home?  I don't care what
you do.  I don't care how you live, but there will not be a next time."
   "I wanted to be caught," she whispered.  "I didn't know she'd kill him."
Maxine's face screwed up and she balled her hands into fists.  "You don't
call anymore.  I only got caught on account of you moving out.  What woman
you fucking that you couldn't come see me?"
   He pulled the car off on the shoulder.
   Maxine whimpered and huddled against the side door.  She shook her head
frantically, made a zipper motion over her lips, then crossed her heart.
   ***
   Felicia's world turned from black to red.  The surge of energy filled
her body, a familiar power, one she had come to crave.  The energy ate at
her like hungry ants, sending pain flaring from all places at once:
throbbing, biting agony.  She trembled and jerked as if she held an exposed
wire and couldn't let go.
   The energy disappeared, but the pain remained, intensified.
   "This will help you sleep," the feminine voice was too soft to identify.
The hollow, cold pain of something sharp bit into the fire at her wrist.
   She wasn't sure how long after the injection until she woke again. 
Small, aching pains nagged at her, but nothing compared to the torture that
came before.
   Felicia groaned during the effort to roll onto her side.  Ultimately she
failed to move herself and went slack on the bed.
   Voices in hushed argument, Setamious and Antasia.  What little she heard
sounded like Setamious pleading for forgiveness.  That was interesting
enough to focus on.  Part of his groveling involved telling her how he
regretted his actions, accepted fault for her inability to defend herself,
for placing undue pressure on her.
   The sound of his begging was truly a wonderful way to wake up.
   She grinned, though pinpricks of pain danced behind her eyes.
   She woke later as the door opened.  One eye opened, but the light was
too harsh.  The other was too swollen to manage.  Setamious backed into the
room, Alexander walked forward - between them, her chest.  The cypress
chest she made to keep her books, jewelry, records, and clothing.  Things
he told her time and again that she didn't need.
   He kneeled before the chest, looking for the way to open it.
   She would laugh if she could.
   Setamious turned and walked over to her.  "Felicia?"
   He had her attention.
   "Felicia, with all my soul, I beg your forgiveness.  I have lived longer
than many should.  You cannot know what I have seen.  I let my crusade
against another blind me from seeing you.  In my efforts to protect you, I
failed."
   Felicia closed her eye.
   "The books are yours.  Study them, learn whatever they contain.  I trust
you will harness your abilities and use the wisdom I have instilled in
you."
   "Why now?" It wasn't hard to keep her face cold and emotionless when
movement hurt so much.
   "The books are your birthright.  I have been cruel and unjust to you. 
You are Felicia and no one else."
   A soft hum.  That's all she could muster.  She opened her good eye to
watch him and Alexander leave the room.
   Later, when Antasia visited to change her dressing, she walked her
through opening the chest.  Antasia set the book on the bed and propped her
up with a battalion of pillows.
   She stared at the cover a long time.  Storm clouds, lightning bolts,
smoke rolling in the fields.  She had said there would be pain, but she
also promised freedom.
   Should she keep the book closed?  If she just got better with pushing a
curse into a person's mind, that would be enough.  She'd known how to do
that since she was a teenager, all without a book.
   Her finger tips found the place where she had left off.  Wondering what
had once been gibberish would say, if anything.
   But Jeremy.  What made him sacrifice himself?
   She opened to the page and laughed so hard that she hurt all over: face,
abdomen, shoulders, back.  She giggled until tears blurred her vision.
   'You only give birth to one child.  Say hello to yourself.'
   One sentence on one page on the right, where she had left off.  Felicia
flipped the page.
   Two words.  'I am?'
   She whispered, "Felicia Silurie Metoyer."
   She looked at the next page and the words translated themselves before
her eyes, reforming like a living thing.
   'It is all down river from here.  The skill you must hone is acceptance.
A room filled with glass portals, showing you what lies on the other side.
You know how to open doors.  We must make them transparent, all of them.
   'We must get away from him.'
   Downstairs, the front door opened.
   "I am Alexander.  You were expected.  Good to meet new family."
   ***
   Max didn't want to do this to his sister, but he didn't know how else to
help her.  If he took his eyes off Maxine a second, she chased after
another stupid scheme.  He'd known his share of disturbed women, but
nothing beat Maxine in the barrel-full-of-crazy department.
   Kara answered his letter with a name and address.
   He dropped everything.  Classes, his life, the trajectory of his
education, all for her, an often repeated refrain.
   Maxine was sleep when he turned off the highway onto the dirt road that
led deeper into woodland, upland, around bends.  The road terminated at a
large iron gate.
   The gate opened before he could figure out how the intercom worked.
   Maxine stirred and wiped her eyes.  Her confusion was clear, but she
kept both words and thoughts to herself.  They went to the door together.
   An older man, distinguished, built, impressive stance within the door.
"Mister and Miss Austin?"
   Max nodded.
   "I am Alexander.  You were expected.  Good to meet new family."
   Maxine frowned at Max.  <Family?>
   Alexander said, "As all daiva, but especially those under Kara." He
gestured to a man standing along the far wall.  "You have bags.  Give
Jean-Marc the key.  He will take them to a more convenient location."
   Max fished the key from his pocket.  The idea did not please him, but if
he could not trust these people with his car, then his sister could not
stay.
   "Come along.  Do you enjoy fine food and drink?  I have a modern tastes
sampling session this week: game, wine, and ale." He took them along a tour
of the house, pointing out the various rooms - the common room, helper's
quarters, social area.  Upstairs had the resident rooms.
   Certain hours were declared 'normal hours' where untrusted members of
the community might arrive to make deliveries, collect taxes, perform
business.
   "I would prefer that you establish a story prior to wandering the common
floor during those hours." He paused in the hallway and narrowed his eyes
at them.  "Have you fed from other daiva?"
   "No, sir." They answered in unison, a lie in perfect harmony.
   "Do not pick up the habit.  Outside normal hours, we tend to gather in
the work room.  It serves as the traditional labor center.  Tending to
clothing, preparations, chores, recreation, and education tend to occur in
this nexus."
   A young, dark haired man entered the room and stopped short. 
"Apologies." He bowed briefly to Max and Maxine.  "I thought I ...  elder?"
He looked to Alexander.
   "Good, I am not alone in my observation.  This is Maxine and Max Austin,
from Kara's line.  Maxine requires time in shadow due to run in with
authorities?  A murder?"
   Maxine snorted.  "He deserved what he got, but I ain't do it."
   Max took her wrist.  <Respect.> "She is innocent of the crime."
   Alexander nodded briefly to Max.  "It is good that you are here.  We can
help her." He looked to the other, much thinner man.  "This is Setamious.
Max and Maxine Austin are siblings, hear it told.  According to Kara, they
have been daiva since birth."
   Setamious looked back and forth between the two of them for several long
seconds.
   "It ain't going to change." Maxine turned to Max with a hand on her hip.
"I ain't going to be trapped in this way back mirror."
   Max balled each of his hands into fists.  "Could you manage to act
civilized for an hour?"
   She rolled her eyes.  "I don't even want to be here, even if he looks
good."
   "There is more to my mater than the eye can perceive," a gorgeous
brunette entered the room.  She carried herself like an actress entering
the stage playing the role of a queen.  Buxom, statuesque, warm.
   "Antasia, Maxine is the young woman Kara sent into our care, and her
brother Max."
   "So young," Antasia set the bundle of clothes over her arm aside.  She
approached Maxine and extended her hand.  "So gorgeous.  What a joy.  Your
brother has brought you to a privileged location to spend your time in
shadow." To Alexander, she said, "I will take her."
   Maxine looked over her shoulder and grinned at Max.  She shimmied and
beamed in front of them all.
   With a bow to Alexander, Antasia led Maxine out the room.
   They would accept her.  He allowed himself to relax for the first time
since learning that she was the lead suspect for Mr.  Field's murder.
   "Not only will we shelter her from her current trouble, Antasia can
fashion a jewel from the roughest of stones."
   "A river rock would do.  I thought she would grow out of it, but she's
still acting like a child."
   Alexander and Setamious shifted at that statement, but Max didn't pay
them attention.  They would believe it or they wouldn't.
   "I have a room for you as well," said Alexander.  "I'll show you."
   ***
   Max browsed the books within the library.
   "Maxine says that you were in college?"
   "Yes."
   "Daiva, since birth?"
   "So we're told," Max said with an irritated sigh.
   "Know many languages?"
   "Four."
   "The books are shelved by subject.  Setamious has profound experience
taking on different nationalities and blending into other cultures.  Will
you require fresh paperwork along with your sister?"
   "It would help.  How much for all this?"
   "This is an elder house, what we do for her is for the protection of us
all.  Truly?  Siblings?"
   "Maxine and I share a mother, but different upbringings.  I was in my
first year of university when her trouble arose.  I don't know how to help
her and finish my education.  All we have is each other.  I don't know
any..." He let his words trailed off.  He could no more survive without her
than she could survive without him.
   Alexander said, "I do not know the curriculum of universities here, but
I do believe we could provide a firm foundation.  Avail yourself to the
library.  I will hire an instructor for any subject you desire
apprenticeship in.  This time in shadow does not have to be a punishment
for either of you."
   "Am I free to come and go as I please?"
   Alexander nodded.  "As long as you bring no one back."
   ***
   Max took Alexander up on his offer regarding the library and the
instructor.  Unlike the few books in the common room, the library was vast.
The shelves reached eight to ten feet high.  Three rolling ladders allowed
access to the upper levels.
   He walked back and forth, climbing and descending until he found the
section containing dramatic plays.  Though he had unlocked many of the
stories and games from his childhood, one remained missing.
   It was a story about a multi-faced hag that drained the life from those
she considered too dangerous.  She controlled her children by keeping them
afraid, both of the world and her.  Antonio taught Max had to deal with
most situations, but when she showed up, the game was about to end badly.
   He hated that hag, but he had to know if she was real or a story, if she
posed any danger to his family.
   A woman entered the library.  He pulled a book from the shelf and
descended the ladder.
   Though he didn't know her location, he said, "Good day to you." Whoever
this woman was, he had not met her.
   A heavy, black shawl covered her from head to toe.  The fabric outlined
a slight frame.
   He chose a table that gave him a good vantage point of the recluse.  No
one had mentioned her.  He flipped through the book, scanning the pages for
the tale that matched his memory.
   Her gloved hand turned the page and revealed the blueprint of a
structure.
   They spent several hours in comfortable silence.
   Setamious entered the room and ducked his head around the corner.  "Ah,
Max.  A moment?"
   "Go on."
   He entered the room and sat to the table across from him.  "I have
witnessed a great many miracles in my time, but this has escaped my notice.
What magic did you mother use?"
   "No magic," said Max.  "A tragic confluence of events met a steel
determination."
   Setamious browsed the book scattered on the table.  "This has occurred
before, more times than you know - all end in death.  The infant dies and
the mother is made barren.  The father's magic?"
   "He's Kara's progeny." Max hedged.  He didn't like the way Setamious
said the word magic, as if looking for a disease.
   "Apologies if this is a delicate subject, but how can you be sure?"
   "I can't." Max moved onto the next chapter, not finding anything that
stood out.  "You are welcome to accept any explanation that satisfies.  The
basic truths are: I was born with my sister eighteen years ago.  We
experienced infancy, childhood, and puberty as daiva.  I am more powerful
than any daiva I have ever met, including you."
   The shawl covered head lifted and turned, light landed on her face.
   Speechless fascination.  Light colored eyes, a cascade of curls framed
her face, dark and radiant like spilled ink.  She had high cheek bones, a
prominent nose that ended in a wide flare.  Her lips were full and soft
just over the little curve of her chin.
   Setamious followed Max's gaze.
   She returned to her book.
   "By what means are you able to make such a boast?"
   "The same way..." The man's arrogance and snide attitude with her cowed
demeanor spurred him to prove exactly why.  He stared at her, attempting to
get a sense of her as a daiva.  Her potential presented as a diamond buried
deep in the earth, pulsing with a faint glow, awaiting a force that would
bring it to the surface.  He grinned.  "It's my qua.  When I am in the
presence of any daiva, I get an image of their ability.  Yours is profound,
but dull from disdain and misuse."
   "Don't get above yourself."
   "Apologies, sir.  May you never deal with my sister or mother.  I am as
polite as the Austins get."
   A choked giggle from across the room.  "If you ask, Mr.  Austin, he has
the answer you seek." Her voice was soft as a breeze, the melody of her
voice enchanting.
   He looked at his pile of books.  "One of my care givers, a daiva, liked
to tell me stories in the form of song and play.  I learned geology through
limericks about amorous women." He smirked at the memory.  "I have used
toys to act out plays and actual historical events.  I have spent years
searching for the background to these games, but there is one I have not
found."
   Setamious nodded.  "The use of song and play in education is a dying
method.  Imperial doctrine passed by states and municipalities do not see
the merit.  Give me the salient points."
   "Hag, her name was Hag, wears normal bodies like clothing.  During our
play, he would take my toys and cut them open and Hag might be hiding
inside." Max scratched his jawline and laughed.  "Hag could show up in any
play or game, but when she did, people breaking her law either disappeared
or died.  Much of it seemed cruel and random.
   "Several of these games are metaphor and allegory, but unlike the
others, this Hag, she was made out to be evil, monstrous.  She controls her
children through fear and punishment - no matter where they are.  If they
displease her, they suffer.  There's no mythology, creation story, or deity
that matches something so insidious."
   "A brilliant delivery of the lesson.  May it help you if what you say
about you and your sister are true.  You know what that lesson was, don't
you?"
   "Yeah, don't have a life you enjoy.  Is she real?"
   "Without question," Setamious said.
   "Then who is she?"
   "The creator and keeper of daiva law, my mater." He waved his hand to
indicate the whole library.  "You know all that must be known."
   "You're not saying her name on purpose." Max chuckled.  "To call out her
name is to summon her to your cause.  To whisper it is to alert her to your
existence."
   "As I said, you were taught well."
   -_ Connection _Max knocked on the front door of the modest house.  They
had exchanged letters in the past couple years, but little more.
   The front door opened.  "Max!" Jennifer gasped and chuckled.
   He smiled, the weight that had been in his chest lightened.  "Hello,
Jennifer."
   "Look at you!  Get in here!" She tugged him inside, shut the door, and
buried her face in his chest.
   "Are you upset?"
   "Hush with that nonsense.  It was a moment of idle fancy, nothing more."
   Max once got Jennifer pregnant, but the result was a miscarriage.  "You
might be barren now."
   "Hush.  I missed you."
   "I missed you too, but I had to leave." He stepped out of their hug. 
"We need to lead separate lives."
   She lifted and wiped her eyes.  "We have, since you left me alone in
college." She made a clicking sound with her teeth, took his hand and led
him further into the house.  Her hand felt warm, solid, comforting in his.
The sway of her ass distracted him from their destination.
   "How is that going?"
   "Still good.  Few months and I'll get my degree.  It couldn't come at a
better time.  Women catching families like the plague around here.  I don't
want you dwelling on it.  We have our whole lives.  I'll do as you ask."
   Max smirked.  "Is that right?"
   "Yes.  Though I have to admit," Jennifer sighed heavily.  "I prefer men
with your same soft hair, same color skin, but no one has those sapphire
blues.  He's nothing like you." She leaned on her shoulder.  "Is that cruel
of me?"
   Max walked over and kissed her.  "I would have preferred he fucked like
me."
   She barked her laugh.  "If only someone could!  People these days are so
reserved."
   "What did you want to show me in here?"
   "Some new pieces." She pushed the sheet back from a closet.
   He spent the next half hour on her bed, watching as she showed off one
outfit after another, explained her process.
   "Those are fascinating.  What do your friends think?"
   She shook her head.  "That I'm wasting my time." She crawled on the bed
and kissed him.  "I love you."
   "I love you too."
   "I will never love anyone like I love you, Pharmaxious.  No one."
   "You may feel differently in time."
   She edged off the bed and went back to the closet.
   Max could see her next actions as clearly as pre-dawn light marked the
rising sun.  His heart raced with the surety of it.
   Jennifer stepped out of her dress.  "I accept that I have to live my
life separate from yours, but you are my husband, my true love.  This is my
vow from this day until my death."
   Her bra appeared stark white against her dark skin like a gleaming chest
of armor.
   "Keep going." He loosed his tie, unfastened his belt buckle.  "How long
do I have?"
   "I have work tomorrow at seven.  Play with me?"
   He tossed his clothing onto the nearby chair.  "You remember that night
we spent at the lake?"
   They had taken their spring break in the woods back home, camped near
the lake where they had met and played as children.  They set their
overnight gear on the ground.  He unrolled a blanket and took her in full
view of anyone that might pass by.
   She chuckled and tossed the last scraps of undergarments aside.  "I need
you exactly that way."
   ***
   Every other month Max made the two-hour drive to see Jennifer.  He would
stay with her for a night or up to a week.  Each time he made the drive
back, Max did so with a smile and renewed purpose.  They were addicted to
each other, and the slightest spark set off a bonfire of lust.
   At Alexander's he trudged up the stairs with a smile on his face, weary,
but euphoric.
   Maxine found him before he could unpack.  "Where have you been?"
   "I'm not the one in shadow.  You are."
   "You're my brother.  You're supposed to be helping me."
   "I'm here, aren't I?"
   "Who is she?"
   He shook her head.  "You're in good hands here."
   "Yeah, it's not as bad as I thought it would be.  I've been learning all
kinds of things, like the proper way to take vitae and the reason why we
have safe houses.  Did you know that we could die from pairing?"
   <Do not listen to them about that, Maxine, unless you want to be them.>
   <I want to listen to you, but you don't have time for me.>
   He opened his arms and hugged her.  "You are not an imbecile, Maxine. 
You were born knowing how to be what you are.  Learn about dealing with
normal people.  Wait until the investigation gets cold."
   "Don't abandon me here, please?"
   "Remember what I told you when I went to college?"
   "Mm hm.  We have to have money to get a house.  Can't depend on banks."
   "It's still true.  Why do I even want a house, Maxine?"
   She sighed heavily.  "So we can be together.  I'm sorry, Max.  I'm sorry
I messed up.  I'll fix it."
   "Do what I ask.  Live here until Alexander says that you can go.  Leave
me to do what I must."
   ***
   Maxine browsed the clothing options and picked the simple dress and
flats.
   "Good choice.  Remember.  It is not about how you feel, it's how they
feel.  You want to come closer to his fantasy.  For this, he will pay a
king's ransom.  Always move closer to his ideal." Antasia looked toward the
open door.  "You are welcome to join us."
   The dark figure moved down the hallway.  Maxine had only ever seen
Felicia draped head to toe in fabric, her face and body hidden.  She moved
fast, quiet.  Like a ghost, she stalked through the house.
   Maxine said, "How do I keep them away when I'm done?  Men get so mean
when they see you with someone else."
   Antasia sifted through an assortment of photos and set them along the
edge of the table, creating her next question.  "You make them understand
the transaction.  There is an entire system for this, honed and sharpened
by all to this day.  Women of Pleasure, Pub Collies, Courtesans,
Streetwalkers - we have always been the strongest."
   "They get killed and beaten and stuff."
   "Some women take their wounds quick and dirty.  Others prefer the slow,
poisonous degradation of the soul.  Even when I do not have need of the
money, I have demands that must be met for each interaction.  Some take
their compensation upfront.  I charge in retrospect.  No matter, I never
forget the agreement."
   Maxine narrowed her eyes, "What is it?"
   Antasia chuckled.  "I adore you, but I share this secret with few, and I
assure I am alone."
   <Please, tell me.>
   The woman took a step back and gasped.  Her eyes went to the door as if
she would run.
   Maxine put a finger to her lips as she reviewed the display of
photographs.  She tapped her head, then nodded.  She went over to the
clothes and picked the outfit she thought would best play to his tastes.
   <What is your brother's name?> Antasia said.
   Maxine mouthed, 'Max' with a grin.  <Believe me now?>
   <How is this possible?>
   <I can teach it to others, but I'm not sure if they can pass the
lesson.>
   <This is wondrous.  Only you can hear me?>
   Maxine nodded.
   "Correct." Antasia beamed and set out the next line of photos.  <Never
divert from your role.  Do not start whore and head for wife.  When you
remember you are a whore, he will think you are his wife.  Do not stray
from your agreement.  You set the price, the time, and date.  If he does
not comply, find one who will.  Always.>
   <What if I like him?>
   Antasia shook her head.  <Then you schedule him frequently as he wants,
but you are always his whore.>
   Maxine stood before the outfits.  She already knew which one to choose,
but it gave her a moment to think.  When she was a teenager, she didn't
have those problems.  The money she made was not her own, but the men knew
what she was and respected her in their own way.  "This one," she picked
the elaborate gown.
   ***
   "I posted my application, but I'm not expecting much.  I don't have
photographs of my dresses, so I made them small enough to fit dolls and
sent those." Jennifer twirled her finger in Max's hair.  "I made sure to
say they were miniatures."
   "I don't think you have anything to worry about.  I met a woman who had
an entire room with dolls in romantic dressing and paid handsomely for each
one.  Even miniatures count for good fashion."
   "Hard on the fingers." She kissed his neck and chest, but as
absent-mindedly as she played in his hair.
   He drifted off, hearing and experiencing none but her presence.  In the
end, he always returned to her, physically, mentally.  He did not want
fleeting moments with her, but a life with permanence.  They would be
together.  Once his sister improved, he could focus on making that a
reality.
   A painful twinge twisted in his gut.  He blinked his eyes open and
stared at the ceiling.
   "Even if they deny me, I want to visit the fashion capitols, all of
them. I'll start with ours, of course, but I have the passport." She paused
as he rolled her onto her back.  "What's the matter?" She wiped the tears
from his cheek.  "Why are you crying, silly?  I want you to come with me."
   "I can't." In their kiss, he poured the entirety of his love and power
for her.
   Jennifer broke away with a gasp.  "Max, never doubt that I am happy with
what I get.  You know those stories you'd tell me?  I noticed a pattern
with women left to the beast or at the whims of a deity.  They had it so
good before they went and messed things up, tried to get more than they
were due.  I love you, and I know I have received more than my due.  Yes, I
want you for myself, but I cherish what little I get."
   He kissed the top of her head and settled his body over hers, inside
her. "I will not have you that far away without knowing you are safe, so
listen carefully." He closed his eyes as he penetrated her.  Though they
had been in and out of bed all day, each moment with her brought its own
unique joy.  "This is how you must survive on your own.  You've had faith.
Now I'm going to give you proof."
   ***
   They made a pitiful pair, crying and sniffling on the drive to the
airport.  She carried her one bag under her arm.  She assumed each person
stared at her red eyes and puffy cheeks.
   As she followed the line of disembarking passengers, she repeated the
address in her mind, the one she would tell a driver.
   Where was she supposed to hail a taxi in this place?  She looked around,
her heart rushing.  Would she make it to her destination?  Were the people
here friendly?
   She only knew this city from photos, books, and film.  Altogether, it
made it a place of magic and wonder.
   A young man, black suit, white shirt, shiny black shoes.  Gloved hands
held up a placard that read: Janine Austin.
   Could there be another with that name?  Other people held signs, groups,
or single.  She approached the man.
   "Boyd Tower, ma'am?"
   "Yes."
   He lowered the placard and extended his hand for her bag.
   "Thank you."
   He led her out to a black sedan.  The inside smelled of cedar and
chemicals.  The shiny black seats squeaked under her thighs.
   "First time in the city?" He chuckled.
   She craned her neck to look out the window.  So many people and
vehicles, tall buildings, bright lights.  "Yes."
   "Visiting family?"
   "Yes." Her neck strained as she tried to see the tops of buildings.
   He pulled into a garage.
   Janine inched down in her seat.  A tall man, thin faced, brunette. 
Distinguished clothing.  He opened his wallet as he approached the car. 
Who was this?
   "Thank you." He opened the passenger door.  "Janine, my name is Kevin.
I'll take you up."
   Her heart thundered in her chest as the elevator doors closed.  Was it
improper for her to ask questions?  She was meant to check into room 602
and wait for someone.  Was she running late?
   Floor 6.  They walked the carpeted hallway to room two.  He removed a
key from his pocket, opened the door, and ushered her inside.  "How was
your flight?"
   "Good, thank you."
   "Do you know who I am?"
   "No, sir."
   He grinned.  "Max arranged for me to assist you." He shrugged out of his
jacket and hung it along with his hat.  "We'll be here for two weeks.  I
want to know about the woman called Janine Austin, where she wants to go,
what she wants to see and experience."
   "Will I see him again?"
   He gestured to her.  "Get comfortable.  I've arranged for dinner.  Would
you prefer a bath?"
   "No, thank you."
   "You will see him again.  I have no doubt."
   "Do you know what I am?"
   He nodded folded his trousers over the back of the chair.  "You have me
as your resource, and while you are here, you will learn to tackle any city
on your own."
   ***
   "Just come in," said Max.
   The bedroom door groaned as Maxine stepped inside.  "Hey, you alone?"
   "Yes." He rolled over in his bed, but the sheets and pillows had
belonged to Jennifer.  "You've been released from prison, I see."
   "Good behavior." She slipped out of her rain jacket and pulled back her
scarf.  She sat on the bed and caressed his arm.  "What's the matter?"
   "What do you want?"
   She sniffed and flicked him on the arm.  "I am here to return the favor
and look after you, make sure you don't get in trouble.  How long have you
been in this bed?"
   He shrugged.
   She stepped out of her dress, her heavy breast still held the imprint of
the black corset that held them firm.  "Make room.  I can tell from that
long face that you knew this was coming."
   "I see that your skills have improved."
   "Being around normals wasn't good for me and it'll get you in the end
too.  People asking questions, recognizing you, asking about babies and
shit.  And you, oh, you should talk mister foresight.  Embezzlement?  Who
gets to go into shadow now?"
   He buried his face between his arms and fought back the urge to cry
again.  Maybe he'd been wrong about what he saw.  The trail he'd left would
lead back to a different source.  Though she was getting better, she had
learning to do.
   "Don't be mad.  I learned like you said.  I can talk different.  I know
how to keep from getting into trouble - that's not to wait until I'm caught
to bash heads." She giggled.  "And not to share my life with normals.  We
need to get rid of your parasite.  Can't have no ties."
   "I know."
   "I looked into her.  She's why you were so fire hot about leaving
college.  You shared a house with her and everything.  You been crazy about
that girl since, hell, forever by the way you carry on.  You need to cut
that weight before it drowns you." She poked him on the shoulder.
   "I know, but why does it matter to you?"
   "Why, says you.  They got this bitch running around doing things to harm
daiva.  I'm saying, we don't know what happens if we pair someone.  It's,
you know, too early for that.  We need to shut her down and I need you
focused.  Her place is on the way anyhow."
   He turned and looked at her.  "We have second and third stops?"
   "Need to see Yeasmine." He gestured and she forged ahead.  "I was hoping
you'd tell me on that.  It's weird.  I get this feeling like I need to see
her, but I ain't see it."
   "Like the connection to a progeny."
   Maxine smacked her lips.  "If it works like that say."
   "Of course."
   "Think we can tell her what to do?"
   "I think I have.  That was my childhood, in sum.  She asked me not to
use it, to warn her first, and then she would be ready to listen.  What do
I know?  That may have been her way of being my mother.  You're right.  I
need to see her."
   She smacked him on the butt.  "Move it, sweet cheeks.  Need to get you
packed and vacated.  Then we've got a normal to erase."
   "Go look in the other room."
   "Why?  You got her body in there?"
   "Go."
   She hopped out of bed and went down the hall.  Max wiped his eyes with
the sleeve of his shirt and dressed.
   Her small voice came from the other room, "Oh."
   "I'm glad you're showing improvement Maxine, truly." He pulled her into
a hug and kissed her cheek.  "I knew what had to be done, and I know that I
have to leave.  I'm happy you're here."
   They packed her car in two trips.  Keeping the discussion on Yeasmine,
their respective childhoods and her stay at Alexander's kept Max from
dwelling on Jennifer.  He had dozed off for part of the trip, but when he
woke, he stared at what used to be Jennifer's house.
   The plants along the front were withered and dry.  The blue green paint
seemed dull.  Heavy drapes covered the window.
   Maxine leaned over the side of the porch, talking to the neighbor.  Max
pulled his hat lower.  How many times had he crossed that threshold to find
love, adoration, and pleasure?
   It was empty now, stripped of its warmth and comfort.
   ***
   "Thank you.  It's been so long since we last spoke.  I had to find out
for myself."
   "You're the only one.  Poor thing.  She kept to herself, no family, real
quiet.  I tried to reach out to her, but," the woman shrugged then pointed
at the small child peaking out the door.  "Get inside."
   Maxine nodded.  "Have a nice day."
   She got back in the car and pulled out.  Her brother stared out the
window.  He'd told her so.  No use in stating the obvious.  That normal
girl had distracted him for too long.  He needed to focus on the fight
ahead.  They were lucky that their birth had been overshadowed by war and
civil unrest.
   "Death comes easy to normals.  It was bound to happen sooner or later. I
know you hurting now, but you did the right thing."
   An hour later, his mood hadn't changed.  He was a rock in her passenger
seat: sullen, quiet.  He didn't even have a book cracked open or tell her
any stories.
"Max?" She focused on the road, waiting for him to answer.  "Max? 
Please, talk to me."
   His voice sounded weary.  "I'm not angry with you, Maxine.  You did the
right thing.  Even if I hadn't already known it.  This had to happen.  It
was going to happen."
   Her eyes watered though she had hated that girl from the start.  The
heartbreak was clear in his voice, more sorrowful than anything she'd ever
heard.  Better it happen to him now, when he can afford to be emotional
about it.
   "Do me favor?"
   She nodded.
   "Never mention her again."
   Forget the homely bitch ever existed?  Nothing pleased Maxine more.
   -_ Homecoming _Pharmaxious entered his childhood home.  Kara was as he
remembered.  Her syrup colored eyes darted from him to his sister, the girl
that was meant to be raised as her daughter.
   Her dark, thin lips moved in time with her fluid motion, sensuous voice.
Even when she frowned, a sultry curve of a smile peaked from the corner. 
Her hair had been gathered into a large knot at the base of her neck.
   Kara's glare hardened.  She took a small breath as if she were going to
cold him as well, but her eyes locked with his.  "Please choose to be the
gentleman I know you can be."
   He winked at her.  "You look more beautiful than I remember, Kara."
   "Kind of you to say so." She cursed softly under her breath.  "I mean
it. I got normals boarding here today.  Lockout hours are 10am to 2pm, if
you're not going to be leaving, stay in your room, but keep out of the
common areas.
   "We assemble in the lower common rooms for games and teleplays.  The
upper common room is for personal stitching, pressing, and related arts. 
No staff enter the basement.  Clean up down there is each person's duty."
   After the requisite tour, Max wandered the house alone.  He was amazed
by how much it had changed and remained the same.  The secluded safe house
in Pine Mountain had become an affluent neighborhood.
   The upper common room had once been a dressing room, filled with
fashions in an array of sizes and styles.  Now it was filled with sewing
machines, a cutting table, fabrics and yarns, plush benches and shelves of
notions.
   She would have loved a room like this.
   The chair near the window squeaked.  Bright yellow dress with red swirl.
A vivid, orange and yellow scarf covered the head.  Max stepped further
into the room.  Glossy, blue-black hair curled around her face.
   With a machine's precision and dexterity, she worked on the embroidery
project in her lap.
   "There is a chair on the other side of me." Her accent had a melodic
swing to it.
   "My name is Max, you are?"
   "Mistress Tahereh," her voice was small, but full.  With a little
effort, she could probably stop men cold with the authority of her voice,
as if she were their mater.
   He sat at an angle to her.  She never paused, never looked up.  Her
delicate hands moved with the grace of an insect.  He reached down and
pulled out the lime thread, removed its binding, and handed her the free
edge.
   She picked the thread, slipped it into the eye of the needle, and set to
making the third edge of the leaf.  Once finished, she set her work aside
and looked him over, the way older daiva often did, scrutinizing his
appearance and dress.  "You are the one of which she speaks."
   "I am honored to be in her thoughts.  How do you know Kara?"
   "The Two Rivers Conclave.  Are you aware of it?"
   "No, Mistress."
   She picked up her embroidery, and after a few slow pulls, she was off at
her previous pace.  "Elder daiva host gatherings, a chance to meet other
daiva, celebrate our fate.  The conclaves with names are the ones we
remember.  The Two Rivers Conclave earned its name.  I am on holiday to
help prepare hers.  She will be royalty, as this will be the first
gathering in decades within this area."
   "Who is invited?"
   "Those she sends word to all from the connected line."
   "I'm not sure my mother and siblings will get that invitation."
   Tahereh smiled.  "You know the meaning of a peace treaty?"
   "I do."
   "No matter what factions are at war, no matter which cultures rise in
power or fall to disgrace, no matter what crimes have been committed, who
lies in shadow - at a gathering, these matters are set aside.  Tell them,
encourage them - take this opportunity to know your own kind.  It is a rare
treat for us, set aside by law."
   "What if we're different?"
   Her laugh was as bright as the colors she wore.  "This is the point.  We
are all, for a few days and nights, in fellowship.  All different, all
same."
   "Do you keep some kind of directory?" Max frowned.  "How are these
invitations sent?"
   "No, see.  The connected line flows to one source.  He has the qua to
speak to us all.  He will pass the knowledge of the location and time.  It
will not be as the voice of your deity or your mater.  It will be a thing
you know, much in the way you knew what color I needed.  Without him, many
of us would be lost.  With his qua, he holds us together, a family.  Those
not of his line, when we meet them or they find us, cling to this
connection."
   "Who is he?"
   She shook her head.  "His identity is not known to me."
   "Would you care to take a break from your task?"
   She paused and focused on him.
   "I would like to give you more than thread without you having to speak."
   Her deep olive complexion deepened to a warm scarlet.
   "I cannot build you a hanging garden, Tahereh, but I can make you feel
like a wonder of the world."
   "Are you sure you cannot build me this garden?" She grinned at him.
   He reclined in his chair and sighed.  "For the woman I loved, yes."
   "Ah, I am glad you know the difference.  Usually a man as handsome as
yourself cannot discern the two."
   "Handsome, truly?"
   "Yes," Tahereh insisted.  "You are not aware of this?"
   Max chuckled.  "I have blue eyes and ample charm.  I am not sure what
the world sees when it looks at me."
   "May I keep your offer in reserve?"
   "You may."
   "I have much to accomplish this day." She took up the blue thread and
set to work.  "My brother prefers to approve my companions.  He will need
to know."
   "Is he here?"
   "Yes, Kamran, my brother.  I shared this life with him.  A woman could
not move freely if she did not do so with family."
   "Your brother is your progeny?"
   "He is."
   Max laughed.  "What does his approval matter?"
   "A young boy can push his mother into the sea rather than listen to her
rules and lectures.  Why doesn't he do so?"
   She had it right.  Love made fools of many and bore the strength to
outclass power.  He understood that lesson well.
   "Tahereh?" A male voice called from the hallway.
   "There's your manservant now," Max whispered.
   "In here," she reached under the work table and pulled out a basket of
clothes.  "Here you are."
   He picked up the stack of clothing and nodded to Max.  "Have we met?"
   "I am speaking with him.  Is there anything else you need of me?"
   His gaze shifted between them.  "Thank you." He bowed his head forward
and left the room.
   Tahereh went back to her embroidery.
   "You are not so alien to your power."
   "Receptive power has the greater capacity."
   "A daiva's power?"
   She nodded.  "To take in the essence, to use it.  Which is greater?  The
power, or the vessel that contains it?"
   "Not much use un-contained."
   Her soft chuckle rolled from her body.  There was happiness within her,
one that Max wanted to seek comfort in.  "I will have time for you
tomorrow."
   ***
   Max walked along the dirt footpath until its end, then took a grass
trail deeper into the woods.  This trail ended at a grand oak tree.
   He appraised the modest house nestled in its branches.  Camouflaged
walls, vines and greenery concealed the shape at only twenty feet away.
   The fresh face of a woman peeked out the window.  Long braids fell
forward, framing a gorgeous visage.
   "Good day, momma."
   "You going to stare all day or come up?"
   He took off the light jacket and folded it into his bag.  He climbed
along the natural path, using well-placed hand and foot holds, and entered
a room.
   Yeasmine wrapped her arms around him and didn't let go.  "My baby boy,"
she sobbed into his shirt.
   Max tossed the bag aside.  "Mom, why are you out here?"
   "Do you like it?" She wiped her cheeks, pat his chest, and frowned. 
"Where is it?"
   "In safe keeping.  Don't worry." Outside her window he could see the
path he'd taken, the creek, and most of the area around him.  "This is the
best damn tree house I've ever been inside."
   "Built it myself." Yeasmine stepped back and took his hand.  "Remember
when we used to spend days out in the woods?  Some nights it was the only
way to get you to sleep.  You were so fussy as a baby.  One night I fell
asleep, high up in a tree, you nursing from me."
   Fussy?  "Nursing?"
   "Yes.  You took your nutrition in both ways." She reached up to his hair
and his curls back.  "Anyway, I would wake up, so scared that you had
fallen, but I never let go of you."
   "It's the memories of being indoors that are scarce."
   "Didn't want no one coming for you.  I studied them.  I gave you
everything.  Your blood, your flesh, and your brains.  You will be the best
of them.  Maxine wasn't raised the way I said.  She'll need your help."
   "She has it."
   "And more yet.  She prefers normal to daiva.  That's not enough."
Yeasmine scratched her head.  "You need to look, Max.  You see her better."
   He nodded.
   She eyed the bag he had set aside.  "What's that?"
   "It would have been a present, but I don't think you need it."
   "Let me see.  Here," she led him over to the corner the appears to
function as a bed and couch.
   Max didn't sit.  "Mom, why are you out here?"
   "I like it here.  Where else am I going to be?"
   He sat beside her and brought out the envelop of money.  "Where's Rico?"
   Yeasmine took out a handful of smaller bills and handed the envelope
back to him.  "Do you remember the last time we spoke?"
   "I remember."
   She rested her chin on her knees.  "You made it clear that you didn't
need me, which meant you didn't need Rico, and I didn't need any of them. I
didn't want to stay there.  I left."
   "Have you heard from Kevin, Antonio?"
   She shook her head.  "I don't know where anyone is or what anyone is
doing.  The less they know about me, the better.  Bet the daiva pussy lines
up to get a taste of you.  Handsome thing." She blushed.  "You make any
babies?"
   "V-secret, mama, just us."
   She straightened and moved closer to him.  "Tell me."
   "I tried and failed, but I want a child.  Just one."
   "She will be born to a daiva mother?"
   He nodded.
   "Is it who I think?"
   Another nod.
   "She needs to hear this." Yeasmine shrugged.
   "She'll hear it from me."
   "It won't take, and it won't matter.  Only a child's voice could pierce
her, make the wisdom so profound that it could not be ignored.  That child
will erase all doubt."
   "You had a child tell you how to keep us alive?"
   Yeasmine nodded vigorously and went to her window.  "I saw her down the
river.  Dirty legs.  Said she needed to live.  A strange feeling came over
me.  Beautiful girl.  'Mommy,' she said, 'I have an order for you.'"
   Max shook his head.  "I'm a boy.  Stark naked at that age?  You would
have noticed."
   "She didn't look nothing like my babies.  Dark skin, dark hair, brown
eyes.  I told you, this was before I was hearing you."
   Yeasmine put her finger up.  "Don't voice that thought." She kept the
finger up and rejoined him on the bed.
   Max let his thought drift away.  Wind rustled through the leaves
outside.
   "Might have been," she whispered referring to his other sister.
   He hugged his mother close.  "I don't think it has to be a child.  I
think the child made you believe that to hide what you knew."
   "Don't seem right." Yeasmine shook her head.
   "Mother, are you aware of subliminal messaging?"
   Yeasmine narrowed her eyes.  "You know damn well, I ain't.  What the
hell is that?"
   "You were sick and in pain for months.  You didn't know what you were
doing, but you learned.  As you learned, you heard us.  She made you think
you always knew what to do, as if that came naturally.  You didn't."
   Yeasmine cocked her head to the side and frowned.  "My memory changed?"
   "It has a different explanation, one that meant you could not tell
anyone, that you didn't know.  You've convinced yourself that you don't
know."
   "Then why are you making me remember?"
   "Because I'm going to protect you now, and I need to know for myself. 
Maxine could never do it.  We wouldn't tell her."
   Yeasmine sat down and put her arms over her knees.  "I'll tell you what
the girl told me, and what I did."
   Max grinned.
   She clicked her teeth.  "Well, in the first few weeks..."
   They carried on talking until well into the evening.  This time she
rested on his shoulder, sat in his lap.
   Yeasmine chuckled.  "So much worry in you.  Why you fretting, baby?"
   "It's not safe for you out here."
   "When they run me out of here, I'll leave.  I been fine on my own."
   "Honesty."
   She shifted in his lap.  "I tried to meet other daiva, but word gets
around.  All anyone wants to know is if I can do it again, get pregnant. 
No one's hurt me because I don't give them the chance.  I don't like the
way people stare at me."
   "How do you feel about Dante?"
   She put on a sour smile.  "We was best friends, secret best friends. 
He's a long way gone from here.  Don't." She smiled and pecked him on the
lips.  "Happiest I ever been is with my baby.  You so dashing.  Turned out
to be a big, strong man.  Built like my daddy was." She teared up.  "I'd do
it all again, suffer everything, for you."
   "You want me to stop worrying?  Then let me do what needs doing."
   She made a snick noise with her teeth and relaxed.  "Time for you do to
some talking.  Tell me about the world, your sister.  What's going on out
there?"
   ***
   "Who is he?  That is what I want to know."
   Max slowed.  Kamran's voice?
   "I barely knew him as a child.  He was like his mother: here, gone, away
in a corner."
   Max grinned.  That was Dion's voice.  She knew about all the dark
corners of this house.
   "The result of a terrible freak accident," said Kara.  "His ruffian
mother gave birth to daiva and they lived.  The ruby girl is head strong
and obstinate, but redeemable.  As for the boy," she paused.  "I have
little to say in the way of complaint.  He is the product of my progeny in
every way."
   "Both of you say you know little of him.  I want him away from my
Tahereh."
   "Say this to Tahereh.  If you want me to intervene, you must say that he
has disregarded my rules."
   "He has forced himself into her company."
   Max pushed off the wall and entered the room.
   Kara flashed a grin to him.
   "A gross embellishment.  I did not force her into anything.  Cry to your
mater, Kamran, not Kara.  That is how respect for the the bond works,
right?"
   Kara rolled her eyes.  "You know that truth." She fell back on her
native language, the accent thickened as she spoke to Kamran.
   He nodded sagely and listened until she posed a question.
   "I do not want her lost to your ways.  The world grows more stringent
for her."
   "Then you get stronger.  You do not make her weaker.  She trusts you."
   Max leaned over to Dion and whispered, "Let's give them some privacy."
   Dion followed him onto the porch.  "Look at you, growing like a
beanstalk."
   "Thank you, Miss Dee.  Your beauty, like the mountains, persist through
time, majestic and elegant."
   She took his hand and kissed his palm.  "You're not that shadow cat,
either, I see."
   "I hide it well."
   She chuckled.  "My!  How have you been?  Where have you been?  You never
write."
   "The things I would write should not be seen by eyes other than yours."
   Dion rose to her toes and kissed him on the cheek.  "You should call on
me, speak and allow me to remember."
   "Someone might hear us." He eased down and kissed her on the lips.  "I
prefer to show you."
   "Now, or when Tahereh's perfume is washed from your sheets?"
   "I change my own linen, Dion." He leaned forward and inhaled at her
pulse point.  "You smell like summer." He straightened and took a step
back.
   "Was that an invitation?"
   "You are always welcome into my arms, Dion.  If you prefer to wait until
Tahereh has had her fill, then do."
   Dion moaned low in her throat.  "Got men that could use teaching if
you're feeling charitable?"
   "How's that?"
   "I've got some domestics under me, helping out all these women with more
babies than brains.  Handiwork, plus a bit of discretion."
   "Good money?"
   "Keeps the wind from getting through."
   "You talk to Maxine?"
   "Yeah," Dion smirked.  "She wanted to know if I took care of any
offices. She's a piece of work.  Pin-up quality."
   "She'd blow your discretion out the water."
   "Have me shut down quick."
   "Come visit me.  I'll whisper a few secrets in your ear."
   ***
   Over the next couple weeks, Dion and Tahereh made frequent use of Max.
Tahereh with her quiet hypnotism while Dion preferred wet and rowdy.  He
barely left the house, being so thoroughly pleased by two delicious women.
   He returned from a long session in Tehereh's room to find Maxine sitting
cross-legged on his bed.  Her auburn hair cascaded in waves down her back.
She had on a house coat, no style to her hair, face bare of color.  The
moonlight fell across her legs.
   Max waved for her to follow as he went to the bath.  He sat on the side
of the tub as it filled with steaming water.  "How long have you been in my
room?"
   She stepped out of her clothes.  "Since sunset.  I heard you with her.
If my ears hear rightly, you have not lost your touch."
   Once disrobed, she stepped into the bath.
   He dipped the wash cloth in the water then squeezed it out on her neck.
"You're jealous of daiva now?"
   She rolled her eyes and dipped her hair into the water.  "No way.  I
like what you've got going.  No attachments, plenty of action.  I'm jealous
there aren't more men in the house.  I hope they get back soon."
   He supported the back of her neck with one hand and massaged her scalp
with the other.  "One of those men is your father."
   She flicked her tongue out along his nipple.  "I know."
   "Need my help?" Max looked down at his sister's swollen eyes.
   "No, I handled it.  I'm a big girl."
   "I'm here for you, Maxine.  Don't doubt that."
   She scissors her thighs in the warm water.  "I don't."
   Once they were out, Max poured warm oil into his hand and applied it to
her back.
   Maxine frowned over her shoulder.  "What you want to ask me?"
   "I'll get to it in due course."
   "Don't wait until I'm relaxed."
   "I need you to contact Dante."
   "He here?"
   "No, but you know him."
   Her muscles tensed.
   "You brought me here because you knew she needed my help.  I need you to
make that possible."
   Maxine giggled.  "You need me?"
   "Yes, I do." He kissed her spine.  "Did Dante ever talk about her?"
   "Little bit.  They grew up off Dolmen, mixed up work-hands and
travelers. She grew up playing with boys, pissing off everybody's mama. 
Dante was the only person who took the beatings for being around her. 
Don't know much else.  Wasn't real keen on hearing about her."
   "Yeasmine's mother died when she was seven.  She must have earned the
money, because they were well set prior to her death.  Paperwork on her is
non-existent, not that it can be trusted.  I read about a case of genetic
chimerism.  Big discovery because she had two blood types." He scoffed. 
"Anyway, they fell on hard times.  His discipline was the angry kind.  He'd
beat her until she was bleeding and bruised.  Dante was her only friend,
the only person she trusted."
   "You said all that to say what?"
   "They are developing the area.  She needs a place where she will be
safe, protected.  We both know it.  She's been a woodland fairy for a
decade.  You want her to end up in shadow?  Locked away with elder daiva?"
   Maxine groaned and shook her head.
   "She carried us, birthed us through more pain anyone should endure." Max
settled over her tense body.  "Yeasmine can see the future.  Did you know
that?"
   "Huh?  No." She rolled him off her and turned onto her side.  "Can you?"
   "I can see what needs to be done, but I have to be near someone or do
something to trigger the vision.  Yeasmine can see years ahead.  Maxine
Vilana Austin, why would she bother giving you a name if she did not think
you would live to bring pride to it?"
   She huffed and closed her eyes.  "Should have seen her ass home that
night then." She growled low in her throat, but it lacked her earlier fire
of resistance.  "If you worried about her safety, then putting them
together ain't smart."
   "I don't care what he is to normals.  This needs to be done."
   "Don't you think Dante would come after Yeasmine if he cared?  He don't
need to be seen with some crazy-eyed colored girl, much less a daiva that
gave birth."
   "Find him."
   "I'll see to it."
   "Now, Maxine."
   She let loose a string of curses and kicked at him until he left the
bed. "Give me a fucking minute."
   Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.  Her skin turned cool and pale,
her breath shallow.  She formed a ball on her side.  "He'll come."
   He pulled back his bed sheets and covered her, cradled her shivering
body.  "I knew you could do it." He comforted her as she recovered.
   -_ Love's Imprint _-
   Tahereh circled Max's body.  She checked the hem of his charcoal black
pants, the give in his waist.
   "Chin up." She fastened the last buttons on a white shirt.  "I spoke
with Kamran.  He is afraid that when I return home, I will bring suspicion
if I forget how to behave." She scribbled numbers onto a piece of paper. 
"It was a good talk.  He has come to see that his restrictions have only
hurt our relations, not helped.  He has regained faith in me.  Thank you."
   "You're welcome."
   "Will you wear this one soon?"
   "Yes."
   She went to the closet and looked through his ties.  She pulled out a
blue one and put it around his neck.  "Thank you." She smirked.  "It
pleases me when a man who has been in my company is improved."
   "I must admit a weakness for such consideration."
   "Oh, it is plain to me.  Impeccable craft on many of your suits." She
pecked him on the lips.  "Come round and see me in two days."
   "Will do."
   Max changed into leisurely clothes and went for another stroll in the
woods.  He found Yeasmine closer to town, a bag slung over her shoulder. 
She perched on a stump and transferred items between a metal lunch box and
her bag.
   Once she was finished, she headed in his direction.
   "You know why I'm here."
   "Don't mean I have to like it."
   "Are you ever surprised?"
   She shrugged.  "Yeah, especially when I see it coming.  I'll talk to
him. Won't say more than that."
   "Thank you.  I'll bring him out myself, okay?"
   She nodded once.  "How's your sister?"
   "Content.  I'm down the hall.  She's out running with Dion.  If I got
into it with a daiva, I don't think she would be at ease."
   "You're all she's got.  Natural for her to want to protect that."
   He drew a breath.  She shouldn't need him, yet they both knew she did.
   "You've got needs of your own.  Don't have to tell me.  Don't be
surprised."
   "I won't.  When's a good time?"
   "I'll be ready." She paused at the trunk of her house.
   "What's in that bag?"
   "Few tools, some candy.  Some light trade with the neighbors."
   "Children?"
   Yeasmine smiled.  "Kindness lasts for years.  Children are more eager
for closeness than adults." She grinned and got a faraway look on her face.
"Go on.  I got things to do before it gets too dark."
   ***
   The band on stage was in full swing.  Dancers bounced and swayed on the
dance floor.  Laughter shifted through the room.  The Cinder Box knew how
to make the day's worries disappear.
   Kya lifted a finger to her hair.  The large curls had not yet become
limp swirls.  If she didn't leave soon, then her carefully sculpted hair
would flop.
   A tall, broad-shouldered man entered the club.  He dressed clean,
slicked-back hair.  He had a reserved manner about him.
   She twirled her finger in the loose thread hanging from the side of her
skirt.  Who would his gal be?  She scanned the room, but found her way back
to him.  Though he wore shades, he didn't seem blind or impaired as he
moved through the crowd.
   What would his voice sound like?  Accented, local?  Rough or light? 
Awkward or self-assured?
   He beckoned her to the stool beside him.
   Kya dropped her head and looked right.  That table was empty save for
the half-finished cocktails.  The table on her left had three men and two
women squeezed into the booth.  They had been laughing and talking for the
past half hour.
   She no longer heard the band over the thunder of her heart.
   No.  Of course he didn't mean her.  She would look up and find some
woman standing between them.  That woman would be gorgeous, prim, demure.
That's what a guy like him wanted.
   Even if she wanted, it was too late to go over there now.  Her knees
would buckle.  She'd wobble in these unfamiliar shoes and fall.  With a
rattled breath she stared at the untouched cocktail on her table.  She
ordered the 'Sea Breeze' because the empty table to her right had asked for
the same.
   He had been waving to someone else.
   Her fingertip cooled as it drew squiggles in the pool of condensation.
She didn't want to see the woman that would not be her.  Oh, wouldn't it be
swell if it were?
   "Excuse me."
   She looked up to the owner of that rich voice.  It was him, the man who
signaled her.
   "Y-y-yes?"
   "May I join you?"
   She slid over on her booth though there was a chair on the other side of
the table.  Her face was on fire.  Her stomach churned.
   What?  Did she drop something?  Her hand tightened on her purse.
   "Good evening, lady.  What's your name?"
   Her name?  What was her name?  From the fog of her nervous excitement,
she said, "Kya.  My name is Kya Yvonne Lawrence." She blushed, too much.
   "Max," he said, "Pharmaxious David Austin."
   A small gnat crawled along the base of her glass.  Her heart raced on,
her hands trembled violently in her lap beneath the table.  Now that he was
here, it was only a matter of time before he decided she wasn't worth the
bother.
   "Are you," she softened her voice, "waiting for someone?"
   "I was looking for you."
   She shook her head in disbelief.
   "Now that I've found you, you may bring me home."
   "For?"
   "However I can please you."
   She laughed.  Swirled the last bit of liquid around the bottom.  "I'm
interested."
   "I hoped you would be." He lead forward and kissed her on the cheek. 
"I'll be good to you."
   She pulled away and took a sip from her drink.  "Why you wearing shades
indoors at this time of night?"
   "To keep people from staring at me."
   She grinned to herself.  "Why so?  You blind?"
   He leaned forward and brought his shades to the end of his nose.
   Her pupils darted from side to side, then her cheeks swelled with her
smile.  Blue eyes!  Now that was something special.  "I understand.  Thank
you."
   He returned her soft smile and sat closer.  They made small talk about
the band.  She revealed that it was only her second visit to the club, an
effort to socialize after her father's death.
   She'd like to see those eyes in better light, to hear him without the
roar of the crowd.  His initial offer lingered in her mind.  He didn't
grope her or ask again.  Did he forget?
   On stage, the band announced a break.
   Kya reached the bottom of her second drink.
   "I need to get home."
   "May I escort you?"
   Kya eased away from him.  "I will have a car take me.  Thank you."
   ***
   Kya came in from hanging her wash to hear a knock on her front door.  A
moment." She grabbed her walking stick as she approaching the window,
peering through the glass to the front porch.
   The stick slipped through her fingers, but she regained hold of her
weapon and set it aside.  She hurried to the door but stopped short of
turning the know.  What was he doing here?  She checked the window again.
Yes, that was the man from The Cinder Box, dressed in a molasses brown suit
and matching hat.
   She looked down at her faded threadbare dress.  There wasn't time to
change.  She rocked on her heels wondering what to do.
   He was still there, waiting for her to act.
   Kya opened the door.
   "Miss Lawrence?  Hello, My name is Max Austin.  We met last night.  I'd
like to speak with you if it isn't too much trouble." He was wearing those
shades, a slightly different pair.
   She stepped back and let him in the house.  "Come in then."
   "Appreciate it."
   "How did you know where I lived?"
   "You graced me with your full name, and I thank you for that."
   He came looking for her?  To talk?  About what?  "Can I offer you
something to drink?" Kya busied herself with straightening the items on her
coffee table.  Should she change?  She probably looked like a transient in
the bread line.
   He sat on her beige couch and set his hat on the table.  "No, thank
you."
   "Why are you here?  How may I help you?"
   "I enjoyed talking to you.  I hope I didn't do anything to make you
upset with me?"
   "No, but you don't know me," a fire filled her heart and though her tone
was too heavy, this was her house.  "I had no warning that you were coming.
Does it look like I was expecting company?"
   "You do look gorgeous, if that's what you're asking."
   Kya pat her head.  Yes, her hair was still in the pair of braids she'd
made the night before bed.  She looked down at the patched, worn, and
well-used dress.  "You don't know me."
   "I want to." He pat the cushion beside him.  "Is that not enough?  Have
a seat.  I won't bite."
   "For some reason, Mister Austin, I don't believe you.  You," she waved
her hand out in front of her.  "You have this air of danger."
   "Is that so?  Do you enjoy danger?"
   Kya flinched at the painful memory.  "I used to, but I was a girl then
and that," she shook her head.  "I'm grown now."
   "What happened?"
   She stared down into her lap.  "I don't know you.  What's the reason for
this visit?"
   "You are the reason for my visit."
   Was this man serious?  Was this some kind of sick prank?
   "Please, Miss Lawrence."
   "If we're going to be friends, then the familiar is better."
   "Kya, Please."
   Her heart tripped as he purred her name.  She rarely had visitors, even
when dad was alive.  Leaving the house for anything other than errands had
become a recent trial.  Never had a man professed to want to see and speak
with her.
   She told him about the group of boys that snatched her up years ago. 
They put a hood over her face, pushed her around, made horrible noises,
poked her.  She thought she had been taken to the pits of hell.
   When they had their fun, they dumped her in the same place they'd caught
her and ran off laughing.  Thinking that if she didn't say anything, they
would leave her alone, she earned herself another capture months later, and
again the next year.
   "I had my suspicions, but I never knew who all was responsible.  They
never hurt me.  Worse was when one of them wanted to hit me with a switch.
I got scared the longer it didn't happen.  I couldn't go outside at night,
and I get anxious during the day now.  I try to get past it, over twenty
years, it's been, but I feel like any day they'll come back."
   "This is where you grew up?"
   She nodded.  "I can't leave.  My father recently died, and I can't move
till I find a place large enough to store his collections.  He had a whole
room devoted to his hobby.  I sealed it up like a shrine, you know?"
   He nodded and put his hand on her knee.  "Were you close to him?"
   She smiled and good memories soothed her fears.  "Yes.  He protected
me."
   "Would you like me to do the same?"
   She looked at him with a half-grin, waiting for him to assure her that
he was only kidding.  When the assurance did not come, her smile melted
into a look of doubt and confusion.  She pulled her hand out of his.  "I'm
not sure inviting you in was the right course of action."
   "It wasn't.  It was what you wanted to do.  I would protect you, but I
apologize if my honesty offends you.  You were attracted to the dangerous
side of things before this happened.  Tell me about it."
   She did, mostly because the situation was so ridiculous that she must
have been dreaming.  If he heard the truth of her life, perhaps he would
come to his senses.
   A man of his enigmatic presence would not have sought her out without an
ulterior motive.  He could not truly care about her past.
   For the moment, she delighted in having someone with whom to share her
story.  Her mother and father were passed, she had no siblings, no close
friends of either gender.  She had lived off her father's money and
affection for decades.
   Once the floodgates were open she kept talking.  All it took was a small
question from him and she talked as if she were being paid by the word. 
Before long, the light dimmed, the rays setting sunlight streamed through
the southern windows.
   Max stood and extended his hand.  "I bid you good evening, Kya."
   "I," she hopped to her feet, but had to support herself with the side of
the couch.  Too long since her last meal, she felt light headed, off
balance.  "Thank you, I think.  I can't believe we talked so much." She
walked him to the door, but hesitated before opening it.  Was this it?  His
sole reason for being here?  "If you would like, may I see you again?"
   "Any time."
   "At any hour?" She joked.
   "Any hour."
   "Come back tomorrow afternoon."
   "Will do." He pressed a light kiss to her cheek.  "Until then,
beautiful."
   ***
   "Damn boy, look at you." Dante took Max's hand and gave a firm shake.
   Max had heard plenty about his mother's progeny, but until that day he'd
never seen him in person.  It hard to reconcile the image of a scrappy,
thin, underfed kid with the charismatic young man in his presence.
   "Thank you for coming out here on short notice."
   "Ha!  'Bout jumped out of my skin when I heard that voice in my head. 
Where she at?" He grinned.  "Boy, I bet she is a ripe peach.  That girl was
so much like your momma: brash, stubborn, lively."
   "I'll make sure the two of you catch up."
   "Yeah, might as well take my licks on my feet.  I know I got them
coming. What's this about Yeasmine?"
   "I'll take you to see her." Max pointed to his polished loafers. 
"Change into some shoes you don't mind getting scuffed."
   Dante drove his car as far as it could go until they had to walk.  "She
know I'm coming?"
   "I've been up there.  Terrific lookout point.  She knows."
   "Up?" Dante turned in a circle.
   "Straight up." Yeasmine called down.
   Dante laughed.  "You coming?"
   Max shook his head.  "I'll find my way.  See you at the house tonight?"
   "Yeah," Dante dipped his head then set to scaling the tree limbs.
   ***
   The act of climbing took Dante back.  All the games they used to play,
the places they found to hide.  They would sit in perfect silence while
people passed by, completely unaware that they were being watched.
   Yeasmine sat in a corner hugging her knees to her chest, perched an a
branch that gave her a perfect view out the window.  Dante walked over and
they watched Max walk toward the city.
   "I told that boy not to worry about me."
   "Do you blame him?"
   She turned to face him.  "You look different."
   His blond hair had been cut close and slicked back.  He wore dark pants,
a gray shirt, but he took Max's advice and donned a pair of well-worn
loafers.
   "You too."
   Her braids hung like a multi-colored curtain, jet black near her crown,
auburn in patches at the back and behind her ear, and chocolate everywhere
else.  She dressed like a character from peter pan, patch work leather,
woven vines, and broaches made from seeds and buttons.  The affect made her
appear as a wood nymph, luscious and magical.
   He got to his feet and toured her house.  Everything had her hand:
trinkets, games, and paintings on the wall.  He'd been the one tasked with
taking her away from this place?
   "I know I'm the only one who will listen when you make a demand of me,
so, please, don't tell me to go yet.  I'll leave when I've said my peace.
How's that sound?"
   "Go on."
   "How have you been?"
   "Managing just fine.  Got good relations with the neighbors.  Daiva
don't come looking for me no more."
   "I've missed you.  I wish you hadn't left me alone."
   Yeasmine shrugged and crawled down her branch.  She walked over to a
compartment and opened the hutch.  She had her collection of winter skins
there.  Dante had been the one to teach her trapping, though she perfected
the skill when she was pregnant.
   "I was going through hell, more than you can ever know.  I did you a
favor.  You look better for it.  Nothing happened to change you." She
brought out a silver flask and handed it to him.
   "Thank you, lady." Dante smirked and took a sip.  He nodded with
approval.  "No.  You right.  Nothing changed me.  My girl, my best girl,
didn't go and make a devil out of me.  You say you were going through hell,
but you left me standing at the entrance, babe.  Nothing has changed,
Yeasmine, I feel the same."
   She shook her head as she paced the floor.  "You know what I mean."
   "And you know what I mean.  We both have our problems.  Yours were worse
than mine from the start.  There's going to be plenty more where that came
from.  World out there is changing and it ain't for the better.  Why let
that stop us?" He put his hands on her shoulders.  "I didn't come all this
way to argue with you or upset you."
   "Why are you here?"
   "I miss you.  We have plenty of time to fight, though I know you won't
play fair."
   "I'm playing fair now," she muttered.
   "No ma'am, you are not."
   She glared at him.
   "Have you seen your body in this piece of scrap pretending to be
clothing?"
   Her glare hardened.
   Dante smiled.  "Yeah, your embers still burning.  Come with me.  I got a
good crew in up north.  Great night life.  Plenty of activity, and the
people.  People come from all over to live in the city.  You'd like it
there, and they would love you.  Don't you worry about the laws and
conflict.  On the streets, there are no rules save for those you can
enforce."
   "You a damn fool if you think I want to be in some big city." She
smacked her lips.  "You don't need me getting in the mix with you.  Max
told me.  I know all about the world getting worse."
   "Yes.  Let me show you how to use that to your advantage.  Come with me.
You didn't pack those crates to keep organized.  Everything all folded and
lined up." He chuckled.  "You ain't changed that much."
   She pulled away from him.  "I got to leave, but I ain't got to go with
you.  You can't just come in here and drag me away.  I don't owe nobody
nothing!"
   He snatched her forward and kissed her.  Once quickly, then the second
time he let his lips linger.  The third one he brushed his tongue over her
lips.
   Dante had been the one to teach her to kiss in the first place.  The two
of them crouched next to a fence, hidden by the rows of sheets hanging from
the line.  There were three kinds of kisses.  A peck is polite, the kind
you give to your kin, but if you leave your lips pressed too long, that's a
friendly kiss, the kind you give to someone you like.  The third...
   She parted her lips and his tongue entered her mouth.  She expected to
feel nervous when his arms locked tight around her waist.  Pleasant
memories surfaced within his embrace.
   That day in the fall when it had almost been him, when he had nearly
been her first.  They lay on the floor, their bodies grinding and moving.
All she had on was her panties, and those were about ready to drop. 
Footsteps, voices.  She'd gotten her clothes on and hopped out his window
so fast that she was halfway home before she realized she wasn't wearing
her shirt, but his.
   Dante moaned.  "I think about that day all the time."
   "How you know what I was thinking?"
   "Because that's what you were doing before we were so rudely
interrupted."
   Yeasmine chuckled and tried to pull her hand out of his trousers, but
Dante caught her wrist and stayed her hand.  She rested on his chest and
caressed his rigid erection.  "I'm not afraid of you."
   "Me?" He moaned.  "When have you ever been afraid of me?"
   "Never."
   "Thought so.  Plus, you get to do that boss lady thing where you fuss at
me and I do exactly as you say." He kissed her on the neck.  "That was long
before we were changed."
   "Only you, Dante.  I get nervous around other people.  Each time I go to
feed, I think someone is going to find me.  This is my home, where I feel
safe."
   "Let me take you somewhere you can feel powerful."
   She giggled into his chest.  "You remember what happened the last time I
decided to follow you blindly?"
   "We got into a heap of trouble." He kissed the top of her head, her
nose, and then back to her lips.  The third kind of kiss, the kind of kiss
that said he wanted her as a man wants a woman.  "And after that trouble,
we spent the rest of our lives together.  Tell me you see it."
   She chuckled.  "I don't want to look."
   "I spent years earning my reign on the street.  If you want to pick up
where we left off, we can, and I'll beat the piss out of anyone who gives
me lip about loving you."
   "We can't act like children forever."
   "Mighty fine words coming from a girl living in a tree house." Dante
groaned melodramatically as Yeasmine tightened her grip.
   ***
   Kya yawned and stretched.  The afternoon sun felt good on her body, but
that thought was fleeting.  Nervousness and confusion crept in.  She jumped
to her feet and looked around.  They were up on the overlook by the lake.
The quilt she'd packed was spread under them.  Wind rustled the leaves of
the trees above.
   Beside her, Max lay on his belly, a book open.  Beads of water on his
spine.  His damp, jet black hair formed wavy clumps as it dried.
   "You sleep well?" He turned the page.
   "Guess I did." She pressed her hand to her chest.  What she couldn't
figure out was how she felt comfortable enough to sleep outside her home in
the middle of the nowhere.
   They had been talking.  Max lay over her, one hand stroking her temple,
the other resting between her breast.  What had they been talking about?
   "How long was I sleep?"
   She tried to get a look at the sun through the canopy.  It had been
morning when they arrived.  He practically bullied her into the trip,
insisting that she leave the security of her house.  He had taken her
through the woods, pointing out plants and animals like some kind of tour
guide.
   He had unpacked the basket, spread the quilt and set out the food and
drink.  Then, without the slightest bit of apprehension, he dressed down to
his bare ass, walked to the lake and dove in.
   Kya had dressed to be outside, but not even those freakish blue eyes
could make her wear a bathing suit.  The only one she owned had last been
worn during her school days.
   She looked left and right, waiting for someone to come from behind one
of those trees and yell, shout at him for his indecent dress.
   Kya waded in, got her feet wet while he swam.  Once he had his fill,
they walked back to the blanket.  He dried off, they talked, much in the
same way as the past few weeks.  When she was with him, her anxiety faded
into the background.  He could make her laugh, put her at ease.  When she
lay her back, he leaned over her.  Had they kissed?
   "A couple hours.  The water is still warm if you want to give it a try
before we leave."
   "Did you drug me, Max?"
   He set his book aside and sat up.  The man was fit: chiseled chest,
slight cut of muscle like he lay brick for a living, glowing skin the color
of rich milk chocolate squares.  "Why do you ask?"
   "I can barely sleep in my own home, and every time I'm with you, I end
up drifting off.  I don't mean to speak harshly of it, but I ...  did you?"
   "No.  Perhaps you are comfortable enough in my presence to get the rest
you deny yourself alone."
   She could not deny that they had grown exceedingly comfortable with each
other, trusting even.  She'd given him a tour of her father's greatest
possessions, her inheritance.  They had been seeing each other for weeks,
any hour of the day, and though she had seen his naked body plenty it had
not yet been pressed to hers.
   She settled down onto the quilt.  "Something is different about you,
Max, more than a little."
   His grin was fleeting.  Her turned back onto his stomach and opened his
book.  "Volumes of difference."
   "You aren't going to tell me what it is?"
   "I might." He didn't hide the boyish smile that took over his face.
   ***
   Max walked into his room with a stack of mail.  He shifted through the
letters until he found the one he was looking for.
   "Account established.  Self-sufficiency within the year."
   "What account?"
   He looked up to his sister's hawkish gaze.  "The financial kind."
   Her eyes narrowed further, "And?"
   "And any account of sufficient value requires other services.  We go
from one war to the next.  I'm not keeping my investments to one currency
or one market."
   She nodded.  "You just seem to care about it a lot."
   "I do.  I have a lot I need to do with it."
   "Whatever, I'm heading out." She gave him one final look then spun away.
   Max closed his eyes in relief.  There were limits to his sister's
ability after all.  If he could hide from her, that meant his 'account'
would be safe.
   ***
   Kya woke to daylight casting its brilliant morning glow through her
window.  Max's warmth lay behind her, his breathing heavy and deep.  He
felt warm, present, real.  Last night, he told her that he gained
nourishment not from food, but others, from their energy.
   He was not one of the undead like the movies and didn't derive the
energy through blood as some kind of vampire.  She didn't want to believe
it, but she just knew there was something different about him.  Something
strange.
   No, Max was very much alive.  She blushed thinking back to the moments
they spent in bed, the way he made her feel, his touch on her body.  She
lay naked under him, anxious to know what he would feel like inside her. 
The pleasure brought tears to her eyes, caused to lay gasping for breath,
sweat dripping into the sheets.
   It didn't make sense.  Little about him did, but she could accept his
story if that meant she could be with him on a regular basis.
   Now that she knew the pleasure of his body, a lot more would be regular
about his visits.  She left him in bed and set to work in her front lawn.
   A red and white long-bodied car parked in front of her gate.  A gorgeous
woman with a deep tan stepped out of the car.  She wore a knee-length white
and green sundress with a wide white sun hat.  Her mahogany wig was styled
in perfectly formed curly tresses.
   Kya removed her gloves and walked up to her porch.
   "Kya Lawrence?" The woman's green eyes darted from one part of the porch
to the other.
   What if that wasn't a tan?  Her features seemed more suited to a
light-skinned colored woman: broad nose, thick cheek bones, wide hips.
   "That's me, and you?"
   "I'm Max's sister." Her grin was brief, only meant as a courtesy.
   Kya saw the woman with new eyes.  She was a much fairer shade than Max,
and though Kya thought she wore a wig, she could see dark red right to the
woman's roots.  Even with her light caramel complexion, her eyes were as
green as new leaves.
   "Max never mentioned he had a sister."
   "He knows better than to do that, at least.  Where is he?"
   "Inside sleeping."
   "Figures." She smacked her lips.  "What are you growing?"
   "Tomatoes, a few herbs."
   The buxom woman stepped closer peered at Kya as if searching for
something.  "He told you."
   Her cheeks flushed, but she answered firmly.  "No."
   Maxine grinned.  "That was not a question.  Good effort though."
   "I have no idea what you're talking about."
   Maxine lifted her palm to look at her nails.  "Can I see what you've
done in the back yard?"
   Kya thought the request odd, but she had been cultivating a few flowers
not quite ready for a transplant.  "Sure.  Follow me?"
   "Mm hmm."
   ***
   Max tugged on his trousers and went to the back door, unsurprised by his
discovery.
   "I did not dress for this." Maxine brushed the dirt from her palms as
she surveyed her work.  "I stopped by to warn her away from you, but you
had to open your mouth, which means I arrived in time."
   "In time for what, Maxine?"
   "Before another normal hussy possessed your heart.  You've got a weak
spot for them, especially these jiggaboo wallflowers.  I see how keeping
goats makes it easier when you need a bit of milk, but you don't tell them
about us.  I thought you were cured of it when you got rid of that
pickaninny you came up with."
   "Thank you for stepping in.  I appreciate your high morals coming to my
rescue, but if you mention her again, you're going to join that wallflower
in death."
   Maxine brandished her middle finger as she stepped back from her staged
accident.  "My car is out front.  Get your things."
   "I have cleaning to do inside." He dressed, removed the evidence of his
presence and packed away the last of her father's bonds.  The heavier items
had been removed last week, siphoned a little each day.  Inside those
treasures were stock certificates, war bonds, jewelry, gold coins.
   "Each one has a treasure inside," he'd told his daughter.  Kya had no
idea.
   He set the bags down and checked his reflection in the mirror with a
smirk.  When he could see a vision through, it didn't surprise him at all.
   <->
Written: February 2013
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
04_Shadow