by Pam Uphoff
Raod snickered. "Rael, the expression on your face!"
"Eww! Raod, you used to be so prissy, what happened?"
"Motherhood." Raod glowed. Smug. Happy.
"One! Living with the twins is going to forever cure me of lingering wistfulness. Ick!"
Raod's smile deepened.
Jess headed up the stairs with Arno. Ryol started fussing and received her bottle, sucked it down and fell asleep halfway through.
Their mother huffed up the stairs, and beamed at them. Kept her voice quiet. "We got all the shopping done for the week, such a relief, now I can spend more time with my four favorite people. Rael, dear, do you need help in the shower?"
Rael grinned and started extricating herself from the soft chair. "I probably do look a bit sweaty and the clothes . . . No, that marvelous shower you put in is perfect for me." She pushed herself to her feet and headed for the stairs. And hoped she could get up them, after Mr. Zip's workout.
***
Senior Investigator Ahxe Withione Timber Black Point looked down on the body and shook his head. "I hate having to tell the parents."
"Yeah, why they call it Dream, when sooner or later it ends in a nightmare is beyond me." Sergeant Uqpy turned away from the bloody scene.
"Not always, or even that frequently. And it really does make them feel better for weeks. No pain, a bit of muscle building, skin tightening. No real healing, no matter what they claim, and always just the tiny thrill of taking a risk. The things a full blown psychosis makes people do . . . they must not believe the stories."
Uqpy grunted. "I wish they'd stick to old fashioned steroids. At least this wasn't another middle-aged woman trying to get rid of wrinkles. The stupidity and vanity are depressing. Especially when it's a young woman."
Ahxe waved in the Medical Examiner.
"So, Ox. Another suicide while under the influence of Dream?"
"Looks like it."
The M.E. grunted and knelt with his knee in one of the few clean spots to look over the remains at a closer distance. "I wonder what he thought he was cutting off of himself? Leeches, perhaps? Might explain all the shallow cuts. At least this one wasn't trying to amputate a limb. Looks like shock and blood loss leading to death, to me. I suppose an autopsy may bring up cardiac or cerebral issues, but it will all be secondary to what looks like self inflicted injury. There's nothing here that he couldn't do himself. The . . . angles of the cuts where he reached around to his back are all consistent with self inflicted slices." The old man rocked back to his feet. "One, that's nasty stuff. You know, Ox, I really wish you'd hurry up and track down the source."
"Yeah. I'd like it too. This is two just this week. A year ago we rarely had more than one a month, usually a visitor from out of the region."
"Well, you've got a local source."
"Yeah, or maybe just a local distributor. Or district, or region. I've got inquiries out to the Division, to see if everyone is having this problem, or if it's specific to the Montevideo District." Ahxe looked over his shoulder, hearing a new voice, someone speaking to the patrolman at the apartment's outer door.
Irqy Neartuone Mazarredo Santa Cruz, the District's laid-back, personable, and popular Chief of Police scowled at the gory bathroom. "Paris says we've become an exporter. The Director of Interior Relations dropped that information at the same time he casually mentioned that our local heroine is coming home to recuperate." The man sounded sour.
Ahxe chewed his lip. "Rael Withione? The presidential guard? Her father's the District Administrator for the Ministry of Transportation, right? I don't recall hearing anything about her lately . . . It's been a year, how much recuperation does she need?"
"Exactly. I suspect she's been sent look into this . . . drug problem the region has developed."
"Openly or . . . some sort of odd undercover? Celeb on the downslide, taking up bad habits? That could be . . . interesting."
Irqy grunted. "I dare say we'll find out."
The M.E. stepped out and sent the removal team in with the stretcher. "But how will you tell the undercover guard from a real celeb on the slide down into illegal drugs, hoping for healing and pain relief?"
Chapter Three
Friday, 10 Shawwal 1397
After two weeks Rael only had to stop once for a breather, all the way up to her attic lair. Her parents stopped looking so worried, and she even changed a diaper. Once.
Even when he had a day off, her dad was busy. He was the local head of the Transportation Department; he'd been in one position or another with the Transportation Ministry all of his life. Which explained—but hardly excused—naming his kids Raod and Rael.
This time the intrusion of work came in the form of a government bureaucrat dropping in for a signature . . . well, none of her business what the Ministry needed an actual signature for, rather than electronic approval. Really.
But he was handsome, at that indeterminate age the high Oners tended to slip into. He could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred years old.
Rael tried for graceful as she pried herself out of her favorite chair and wandered casually over toward the front door, passing rather close to the two men as they chatted amiably.
Her dad, of course, stopped to introduce her.
"My younger daughter Rael, the presidential guard, you know. Uzke Withione Rioja. Uzke is one of our District Councilman's aides."
The man's eyes widened and focused. At least he's not bored.
"Princess Rael, I am honored to meet you."
Rael glanced at the fingers of her right hand. Normal position, good. Fortunately Uzke's handclasp was gentle, even if he did let it linger. One! He's acting like I'm . . . attractive. "
"Thanks, and what does the Councilman have you doing, beside running errands?"
He paused a bit uncertainly.
"Oops, that wasn't nice of me." And sometime "errands" can be taken wrong as well . . .
"We're used to abuse, we poor, poor politicians, well, I'm not in an elected position, at the moment . . . "
"Ah. That's why your name was familiar. Rioja Enclave board, and then the district council, right? The news always called you Ruskie?"
"That's right, and as far as I know, not a single Russian in my ancestry." He flashed a bright smile. "Now I just have to wait impatiently for an opening at the Divisional, or better yet, Regional level, and go for it. I travel with the Councilman, for the exposure in Paris and building contacts and so forth."
Rael shook her head. "Politics."
"Ah, but then you operate at a level so far above my head you're nearly out of sight."
Rael giggled. "No, I just guard the people at that level. Used to. I don't touch actual politics."
His eyes crinkled a bit. "I suppose you get used to ignoring the politics and guarding the person?"
"Well, I was pretty new to the job, so I didn't actually see a lot of variation in politics. Mind you, I'm a solid supporter of President Orde. I like his politics and I like him as a person."
Ruskie gave a theatrical sigh. "And here you said you didn't engage in politics."
She walked him out to his car. And would have bounced back up the stairs if she hadn't been nearly trembling after the effort of moving smoothly and normally for five minutes. That was definitely an ego boost. I may not have completely lost it.
But she needed more exercise. So the next day she joined Raod and Jaes on their daily stroll.
She really hated admitting that she had to push herself to keep up. She was about to beg to be allowed to grab the pram handle for support when they stopped at a convenient bench. She folded up on one end, trying for graceful, not the limp plop of exhaustion.
"I used to think this was the most pointless park in the world." Rael met her sister's concerned gaze with a wry smile. "Now I think it's beautiful, with a wonderful view. I think I'll just sit here and admire it. If you two have a further destination, go ahead."
Raod chuckled. "You never were any good at admitting to weakness."
"Well, I'm going to have to get better at it. Go walkies, Sis."
Raod laughed. "We'll just take a couple of laps around the park while you relax."
Rael leaned left to get her right elbow high enough to hook the back of the bench, straightened up and hooked her left elbow and crossed her ankles. She eyed her pose and nodded satisfaction. Normal, relaxed, open, carefree. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, the sun warm on her face, bright red against her retinas.
It felt fantastic. She'd spent a bit over a year in the hospital, without feeling the seasons, only viewing them through windows, while breathing filtered air at a constant slightly cool temperature.
It had been late fall in Paris, the trees mostly bare. Down here it was late spring green and growing. The air smelled alive. She dropped her chin and relaxed while the red spots faded from her vision. The park was flat, mostly lawn and walkways. A few heavy, immobile heavy mesh cages so kids could play football. Paved walkways. Raod and company weren't the only strollers, but there weren't many people about. Joggers of both sexes, a grayhaired couple meandering . . .
One young man didn't look either athletic or relaxed.
He was focused on Rael, scowling.
Young, dark-haired, light complexioned, he could have stepped out of an antique picture of an arrogant young Uruguayan noble from before the nuclear war. His scowl deepened as he stalked toward her. He stopped two meters away from her outstretched legs.
"We know who you are, why you're here. It won't work, we're not stupid."
Rael cocked her head and thought that over. What? "Good. Now go away."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
Is he actually trying to look intimidating? Rael looked him over: feet in new high-fashion leather boots, faux combat pants, tight black muscle shirt with almost enough muscles to carry it off, if not for a trace of childhood softness. Fuzz on his chin that might be an attempt at a goatee. Gorgeous eyelashes around crystalline blue eyes.
Enough glow to her inner vision to show he was a Oner, not a Halfer. Projecting it as hard as he could. High Servaone, possibly low Clostuone. Hell, as young and untrained as he is, he could be higher.
"We won't fall for your act." His voice went falsetto. " 'Oh, I'm all depressed and need more painkillers than the doctor will prescribe. Oh, woe is me! What shall I do?' Well, Chica, you get nothing from us, capich? Nada."
Rael could feel her smile spreading. "Wow! Three languages in one sentence. Must be wonderful to be multilingual." She stifled a snicker. "And voice acting as well."
He stiffened. "Are you laughing at me?"
"I laugh at a lot of things." She shrugged her left shoulder. "I get into a lot of trouble that way. What's your name?"
"Eb . . . None of your business, Cocina."
She frowned. "Did you just call me a kitchen? I've never been called a kitchen before."
His face went expressionless, blank for a moment. Near panic in his eyes. "No! No, you misheard. So just be warned, we know who you are and you won't find any drugs on any of us, and we won't help you at all." He turned and stalked away. Quickly.
Rael leaned her head back, grinning. Trying to control laughter, because laughing had a nasty tendency to become suddenly painful. Oh, One! I have just met the Empire's stupidest drug dealer. She sobered suddenly. He can't have been older than sixteen. Was he clued in enough to know he was disposable? Someone with a few more street smarts was watching from a distance. Probably the same man who sent the kid out here to deliver an ultimatum. Heh. So they think I'm a Narc? I really ought to be insulted. I . . . almost wish I was capable of the work.
She went back to sunning. Listening to footsteps.
"You're going to get a sunburn."
"It'll be worth it. This feels wonderful." She opened her eyes and smiled at the twins. Wide-eyed and looking around, strapped in a sitting position side-by-side, little feet kicking in excitement. "I feel just like them, like everything is new and shiny. That's what a year in the hospital will do for you."
"Ugg."
Rael snickered. "At least I don't need a diaper."
Raod rolled her eyes and walked on.
Rael shifted her position carefully, checked her new posture, changed the angle of her wrists to "straight, not abnormally contracted." Drat, I thought I'd gotten the forearm tendons all stretched back out. Just habit, I suppose.
She eyed a man striding down the sidewalk. Good looking, business suit, vaguely familiar. Belligerent set to his shoulders. What now . . . No, he's looking past me . . . at Raod. Oh, right, the man in Raod's last set of wedding pictures, four years ago . . .
He stalked a few feet beyond Rael and blocked the sidewalk.
"Why don't you answer your mail?"
Raod glowered at him. "Good morning Ogto. How nice to see you again. I told you the twins were not yours. There's no need to worry that I'll sue you for maintenance."
He stepped closer to the babies. "I can count on my fingers. They could easily be mine, and you know it. I have a right."
Rael could see the angry red spots on Raod's cheeks, the tight clench of her hands on the handle of the stroller.
"All you care about is trying to prove you're a higher Oner than Eglo and Itsu. And no, these aren't theirs either. As if I'd go back to them!"
The man's stance stiffened and leaned in at her a bit.
Rael got her feet under her, but a physical confrontation wasn't a good idea. Instead she pulled in power, slowly and gradually. It was unlikely Ogto had ever trained in magical combat, so he might not even notice a power buildup so close to himself.
He leaned and touched little Ryol.
Nothing. No zap. Not his kid.
He paused, then touched the boy. Nothing.
He straightened, turned and walked away. Rael noted his thin lips, burning eyes.
"I told you. You didn't need to make a public spectacle of yourself." Raod was still gripping the stroller possessively.
Ogto gave no sign that he'd heard.
After a long silence, Rael shivered. "He must have been very confident, to have done that in public. He just took a big hit." She glanced around. There were only three people who might have been close enough to feel the zap of a father touching his child for the first time. Or lack thereof. Two women walking, a man running past. Probably not close enough, probably didn't recognize the man. Ogto is something with the local War Party Office, not a high profile position.
"Humph! Men, all ego and no brains." Raod's voice had a bit of a shake to it. "Well, we're done. Ready to go home, Rael?"
"Yeah, a sunburn really wouldn't be a good idea." Rael heaved herself up to her feet and looked down at her niece and nephew. I'm not going to ask, dammit. It's none of my business how Raod met Endi. If she did. Which she probably didn't. Just a coincidental resemblance.
She sauntered along behind the others, trying to walk normally, to look at ease. I hate to think that pretending to be average, normal, is the best I'll ever manage. But I do have to get to that point. I need to be able to operate in the Paris scene. I need to not draw the eye and make people wonder who that crip is.
They took a different route back, past a row of shops, slowing to eye the window displays.
"Clothes. I need to get some local styles." Rael eyed the confection in the window. Shows too much cleavage. Or in my case, scars. "I like the colors."
The other two women shook their heads.
"Not with your red hair, Rael. Honestly, sometimes I think you're color blind."
Rael giggled. "People keep saying that." She ran a hand through her hair. "I could do with a hair cut, as well."
"No, no, no! It's finally grown out after that horrible short haircut you always sported." Raod snorted. "Figures it would take a year in the hospital to make you stop spiking it." She shut her mouth suddenly as her glance sheared to two women strolling toward them.
Jaes muttered under her breath, "Not again."
"Who are they?" Rael kept h
er voice down to a bare breath.
"Oh, look, it's Raod Kill and the twin bastards. Fancy meeting you here."
"Tif, how nice to see you! Towel, what a lovely frock!" Raod batted her eyelashes. "Rael, this is Tiyf Withione. Ogto's ex-wife, prior to my marrying him. And Taul Withione. Her friend."
Both women stiffened at the implication that they were more than friends.
"We heard about your little encounter in the park. How embarrassing!" Tif smirked. "Public exposure of your loose morals and Ogto's infertility."
Raod showed teeth. "Amazing how nasty gossip flies. And Ogto isn't infertile, his numbers just aren't high enough. But then, you knew that, didn't you? Two miscarriages, was it? So sad."
"That was a chromosomal mismatch, nothing more."
"Of course. No one's fault. You two were just incompatible. These things happen with Oners." Raod shrugged. "Of course, he couldn't even get that far with me." She turned the stroller away from the windows and pushed it past the other women. Turned her head to look over her shoulder at them. "But I'm sure you can easily find another man with high enough numbers to impregnate you, again."
Rael could hear Tif's teeth grind as she strolled by. Towel . . . poor thing, she's probably tried to get people to call her Tall all her life . . . was looking blank, and felt cold and calculating. I wonder what her agenda is?
She was trying to not limp by the time they got home. Dragging a foot that's gone all the way numb is definitely déclassé. I may have to reconsider these walks, after a therapy session. But pride and stubbornness got her up one flight of stairs to her chair, and she collapsed while the babies played and cried and got fed and diapered and put to bed.
"Senorita? Lunch?" Little Moah, the maid.
"Yes please," Rael looked around.
"They put the babies to bed. Senora Kyol ees helping. They will be down for lunch in a few minutos."
"Ah, well, I'll be civilized and eat at the table with them, but could you bring me a lemonade now?" What a wimp. I can't even fetch my own drink.
