Forever

by Pati Nagle

  I was such a wimp. Totally useless. Couldn’t even defend myself.

  Hush. No human can withstand such an attack. Many ælven could not.

  I was still frightened, I realized. I wanted to cry in Madóran’s arms. Wow, crazy reaction!

  Cry if you need to. It’s all right.

  So kind. The tears came with that thought, quiet release flowing down my face, into my hair. I didn’t care.

  I was safe. Alive, not about to die.

  After a while my nose stuffed up and I had to blow it. Madóran helped me, then silently advised me to lie down again.

  He stayed beside me, not talking, just there. Exactly what I needed. Now and then a wave of fear would go through me, and he would chase it away with a wave of healing. Gradually I relaxed, and drifted into sleep.

  I was running. I had to be somewhere, and I was late, and there were alben after me, several of them. My dread increased with every step, but I couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t yell for help.

  Steven. You are safe.

  I gave a little gasp and opened my eyes. Soft light filled the room. Madóran had lit Lomen’s candle.

  Forgive me for waking you.

  No ... thank you. Bad dream.

  My head ached. I sat up, and Madóran handed me a glass of water. I chugged it, then put a hand to my temple.

  May I?

  He took the glass and set it aside, then placed cool hands on my temples. I sighed with relief.

  Did she … damage something?

  No. It is the shock. Your body is unharmed.

  Faculties a different issue. His hands fell away.

  Mind-numbing fear was the problem. It was all too familiar. I’d been there before, years ago. High school bullies: adult bodies capable of killing, driven by adolescent minds. I shook my head to get rid of the memory.

  No one should have to feel that way.

  I met Madóran’s gaze and gave him a tired smile. Thank you.

  He reached up and brushed my hair back from my temple. A caress, this time.

  Oh, sweet heaven.

  I closed my eyes, which was maybe a mistake, because it made me aware of the pine/spice aroma in the room. No doubt he sensed my physical reaction.

  The ache of desire overwhelmed all other feelings. I looked at him, reached up to touch his hair. I’d been wanting to do that since I first saw him. It was soft and fine, black as midnight.

  He smiled, leaning into my touch a little. That did away with what was left of my self-control.

  I kissed him hungrily. He answered, gentle and warm, accepting. Leaving me the lead.

  A small part of me protested, but it was too late. I needed this. I’d make amends later. Atone, somehow.

  He let me spend my tension, then showed me ways to pleasure him that I’d never imagined. The headiness of double-awareness filled me with delight and joy and relief. I was safe. Safe, and loved.

  Madóran was completely unlike Lomen. He was fluid, changeable, subtle and wonderfully generous. Not that Lomen was the opposite, but he was more direct, rather masculine and straightforward.

  When we were both spent we lay still. I listened to Madóran’s heartbeat, strong and slow.

  Sleep a little more. We will be leaving shortly.

  Leaving?

  We are going to Guadalupita. It will be safer there, now that the alben are aware of this place.

  Oh.

  I didn’t bother trying to hide my dismay. He must know all about my feelings—all of them, contradictory and foolish and afraid, everything.

  Going to Guadalupita. That was the name I’d forgotten; the name of the town where Madóran lived.

  I’d be seeing Lomen in a few hours.

  = 17 =

  I sat up, rubbing my face. I’d never get back to sleep, not now.

  Madóran’s fingers traced a pattern on my back.

  It will be all right, Steven.

  I tensed, then turned and caught his hand, kissing his fingertips to show I wasn’t angry.

  I have to figure this out for myself.

  Yes. You will.

  His smile was full of fondness. Clearly, he didn’t mind my feelings for Lomen. That made the guilt worse, somehow. I stood, then bent to kiss his forehead.

  Thank you—for the healing—for everything.

  My pleasure.

  I’d better get ready, if we’re leaving.

  I pulled on a t-shirt and shorts, then went out. Madóran followed me, wearing his caftan again. Easy to put on, a caftan. And to take off.

  I tiptoed into the darkened living room, but it was empty.

  Savhoran and Pirian left earlier so as to arrive before dawn. Amanda went with them.

  Poor Manda. At least she was with Savhoran. It didn’t sound like a fun drive, though.

  I gathered my computer stuff and took it back to the bedroom, which smelled of sex and beeswax. Ignoring that as best I could, I put the computer and my new tablet in my backpack, then got out my bag and stuffed some clothes into it.

  Do I have time for a shower?

  I expect so.

  No clock in the room. I lifted the window curtain and saw that it was still dark outside.

  The time didn’t matter so much, I guessed. We would leave when we were all ready, which might mean they were waiting on me.

  Len is sleeping.

  Good.

  I got out some clean clothes. Madóran, standing in the doorway, stepped out of my way. I paused, wanting to show my gratitude even though I’d already thanked him, wanting to kiss him but not daring. Wanting to avoid even thinking about asking him to join me in the shower.

  I did a nod that turned into an almost-bow. Weird, but he smiled and nodded back.

  I took a long, hot shower. I did not use Madóran’s soap.

  By the time I came out, someone was cooking breakfast. My body informed me that it was definitely ready to eat.

  I went across to the bedroom, intending to tidy it up, but Madóran had beat me to it. The bed was made, the candle was out and a faint light was coming through the curtains. My bag and backpack were gone—loaded in the car, I assumed. I tossed my laundry in the closet and went out to get breakfast.

  “How are you feeling?” Caeran asked me as I joined them at the table.

  I glanced at him, looking for irony, but if he meant any he hid it well. “Much better, thanks to Madóran.”

  I looked at the healer and my heart did a slow flip. I could have gone back to bed with him right then.

  I focused on my eggs and toast for a minute. They were watching me, I knew.

  “And you, Madóran?” Caeran asked. “Did you manage to get any rest?”

  “I am well-rested, thank you.”

  A memory hit me and I looked up at him. “She attacked you, too!”

  “Only briefly. Caeran took the brunt of her rage.”

  “I was hoping the two of us could subdue her, but we were unprepared,” Caeran said.

  I was kind of glad they hadn’t managed to do that. What would we have done with her? Tied her up and sat on her?

  “After Evennight, we will return here and lay a trap for her,” Caeran continued. “If we catch her, the male will probably follow.”

  And then ....

  No one filled in the blanks. At least their deaths would be merciful, or so I assumed. Unless Pirian was involved.

  I looked at Len, wondering how she was feeling. Her plans for Evennight had been disrupted yet again. We were headed to Madóran’s, and we’d stay there until Friday and have one Evennight celebration with everyone all together. Mirali would be there, perhaps. So would Savhoran, and she’d just have to live with that.

  Unless Madódran did some fancy tap-dancing. I looked at him, wondering if he ever felt pulled in different directions.

  His gaze flicked in my direction, and a slight smile curved his lips.

  OK, fine. Dumb question.

  I drank a deep swallow of tea and finished my breakfast without making any more convers
ation. We threw all the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on, then locked up the house and got in the Lexus. Len took the shotgun seat. I sat in the back with Madóran.

  The sky behind the mountains was glowing pale gold. Sunrise came late in Albuquerque because of the Sandias to the east. Before the sun cleared the mountain range, Caeran had reached the freeway and turned west.

  Not much conversation in the car. Caeran and Len were probably talking in mindspeech. I could have done the same with Madóran but I really was trying to be good, and fair, and as honest as possible.

  I still felt rotten. I’d done a selfish thing. Involved Madóran in my selfishness, though he didn’t seem to mind it much.

  I glanced at him. He was looking out the window.

  I shielded, hoping he’d understand that I just needed some space to think things through.

  Caeran stopped to fill the gas tank, then turned north on I-25 and we were off for Guadalupita. The sun rose on my right. I put on my shades and sat pondering how to explain to Lomen.

  I wanted to offer him atonement. Trouble was, I didn’t understand the concept that well. The hunters, Savhoran anyway, offered gifts of atonement—often things they had made according to Savhoran—to the humans they fed from. I didn’t think that would work in my case; there wasn’t anything I could give Lomen that he didn’t have or couldn’t get.

  My handicraft skills were limited mostly to things a bachelor needed for getting by: enough sewing to mend clothing, a small repertoire of edible and not-too-complicated recipes. I knew seven different ways to fix a toilet with a paperclip, but I couldn’t wire a lamp.

  I closed my eyes. I’d think of something. I had several hours.

  I woke up when the car stopped.

  Blinking, I sat up and looked around. We were at a gas station. Len opened her door and looked back at me. “Pit stop,” she said, and got out.

  I’d been slouched against the door and my neck was stiff. I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen up.

  Madóran headed into the convenience store. Caeran was already pumping gas. I got out and offered to help, but he shook his head.

  “Where are we?”

  “Las Vegas.”

  “Still a ways from Guadalupita?”

  “An hour or so.”

  I went into the store, used the bathroom, and looked for something to drink. Nothing was interesting, so I grabbed a bottle of water.

  An hour until I saw Lomen. An hour to figure out what to say to him, what to offer besides my apology. I walked up and down the aisles, looking hopelessly at canned food, chips, candy, maps, boxes of tissue. Useless human stuff.

  Near the door was freezer chest full of ice cream. My favorite toffee ice cream bars were in there. Suddenly I wanted to get Lomen one of those. So what if it was insignificant? It was a gesture.

  One that would melt during an hour-long car ride.

  Frowning, I refused to admit defeat. I wanted to share this little thing with Lomen—this small pleasure that was part of me. I prowled through the store again and found a picnic-sized styrofoam cooler. I took that and the ice cream bar and my water to the register and asked the clerk to ring up a bag of ice as well.

  Outside, I got the ice out of the big freezer, opened the bag, and dumped as much as would fit into the cooler. Then I buried the ice cream bar in the middle of all the ice, emptied the excess on the pavement, and threw away the bag.

  No one commented as I carried the cooler back to the car and tucked it into the trunk among the luggage. I got back in my seat and opened my water. Caeran drove north on a small state highway.

  The land was pretty. I had never been this way; my experience of northern New Mexico was limited to Santa Fe and one unfortunate skiing trip to Taos. I gazed at the wooded hillsides, mostly piñon with some pines and deciduous mixed in. Meadows filled with tall grass and wildflowers, sunflowers and purple asters and a bunch more I didn’t know by name, were interspersed with forest.

  As we drove north, the pines appeared more frequently. The town of Mora had a river and an old mill. I would have liked to explore, but we didn’t stop. We turned onto a smaller road and continued north.

  I was starting to get hungry by the time Caeran slowed and turned onto a driveway. A carved owl peered down at us from a fencepost, and I recognized it as Madóran’s work.

  “Where’s the town?” I asked. “Farther up the road?”

  Len chuckled and turned in her seat to grin at me. “You missed it. It was the post office back there.”

  I vaguely remembered driving past a couple of buildings standing together, but I certainly hadn’t registered them as a town.

  “Guadalupita is not so much a town as a collection of land grants,” Madóran said. “I was already living here by the time the other colonists reached the area. They kindly gave me a grant of my own.”

  The driveway was dirt but well-graded. To our right was a fence, to the left an open meadow.

  “Hope you have nice neighbors,” I said.

  “I own the two neighboring grants as well. I bought out their owners many years ago.”

  Holy wow. Spanish grants, the original ones anyway, were not small. They were intended as farmsteads.

  Madóran gazed out of the window, smiling. Glad to be home.

  We drove for several minutes before we reached the house. Caeran parked next to Manda’s car and we all got out. I stood gazing at the house, which was huge. The front portal was twice as long as the front of Len and Caeran’s house.

  Caeran opened the trunk. Madóran extracted a small leather bag, then stepped onto the wooden portal and went to the door.

  I swallowed, remembering that Lomen was here. I got my backpack, my bag, and my cooler out of the trunk, and followed the others inside.

  The entryway was as big as Len and Caeran’s living room and was filled with plants. The far wall, facing west, was glass, but shaded by another portal.

  We went through a doorway on the right and into a greatroom. It was beautiful, filled with hand-carved furniture and rugs and artwork. A kiva fireplace in one corner promised cozy winter evenings. The far end of the room held a dining table that could probably seat a dozen.

  Madóran led us to a door at the back of the room that gave out onto a plazuela, the classic inner courtyard of the traditional hacienda. This one was a lush garden, with a fountain and flowering bushes and vines and shaded by huge cottonwood trees that were going golden. A deep portal ran all around it, protecting the inner windows of the hacienda from the sun, with partial glass walls that looked like they might slide to fully enclose the portal in cold weather.

  This might have started out as a hand-built one-room adobe house, but it was more like a mansion now. It must be worth at least a million dollars.

  Madóran led us along the north portal, chatting with Len and Caeran about “their” room. He paused at a door near the corner with the western side of the hacienda.

  “I think—yes, this room is unoccupied. You may have it, Steven.”

  He pushed open the door to a small but luxurious bedroom, with more Madóran-made furniture and its own kiva fireplace. I went in and set my stuff on the bed.

  “This is great. Thanks.”

  “We’ll put some lunch together shortly—you’re probably hungry.”

  “Yeah. Let me know if I can help.”

  He smiled, then walked on with Len and Caeran, turning the corner and heading along the west portal. I watched them go into a room at the southwest corner, then stood gazing at the garden.

  No wonder Len and Manda always talked about this place. It was beautiful. A haven.

  I could see the fountain through my open door. Birds played and squabbled in the water. I watched them for a while, then decided I should unpack.

  There was no table, only a nightstand. I put my pack on top of the dresser and put my clothes in the drawers, then looked at the cooler.

  Stupid idea. The ice cream might have melted anyway, or maybe the wrapper was soggy
.

  Pretty feeble, Steve.

  I set the cooler on the floor behind the door, telling myself I’d deal with it later. I was too tense to study, so I sat on the bed and zoned out on the birds some more.

  I should go find Lomen and just make a clean breast of it. Better to talk to him alone than with everyone else listening.

  Listening! Jeez!

  I shielded, wondering if I had broadcast my anxiety to the whole clan. What a putz.

  I heard voices and footsteps coming along the portal. Panic stabbed me and I jumped up and went to the dresser, fussing with my pack, taking out my computer gear. Movement made me look toward the door.

  For a second my heart contracted, then I recognized Faranin and Bironan. They stopped, looking at me in surprise.

  “We did not know you had arrived,” Bironan said.

  “Just a little while ago.”

  “We are to be neighbors, then,” said Faranin. “We are sharing the library, next door.”

  “Library?”

  Bironan smiled. “Come and see. You are welcome to read any of the books.”

  They opened the door to the west of mine, which accessed a big, L-shaped room that took up the whole corner of the house. One side was full of bookshelves and a work table, the other side had two big couches that were probably beds at night, and more bookshelves. Chairs—comfy ones around the fireplace and straight-backed ones around the work table—made it a homey library, and tall, stained-glass windows on the north wall let in muted daylight.

  “Nice,” I said, understating.

  “We heard that you encountered the alben female,” Faranin said. “I trust you are unharmed.”

  I swallowed. “I think so. Thanks.”

  His face hardened. “She will be dealt with.”

  Boy, I sure never wanted these guys angry at me.

  “Well, guess I’ll get ready for lunch,” I said. “Thanks for the welcome.”

  I went back out, heading for my room. Down the portal, I saw another ælven that I took for Caeran going into one of the rooms. He looked at me.

  “Steven!”

  Not Caeran. My heart started pounding.