by Donna Steele
“Good morning.”
There were dips of heads and more than one glance between students. Even a few scattered “good mornings” in reply.
“I know you weren’t expecting me. I received a message Mister Stevens was unavailable this morning.”
“Is he all right?” Connie didn’t catch who asked the question.
“I’m sure he is. Something he must have needed to attend to. I have to admit I’m unprepared for today. Could anyone tell me what you’ve been working on?”
Hands went up around the room, three of the girls among them. Such an action was unprecedented. She called on Sarah.
“Mister Stevens has been teaching us some beginning geometry. Silas has been helping him, so he’s the one to ask.”
Silas? Connie observed the normally withdrawn young man. She almost didn’t recognize him, the difference was so astounding. His back was straight as he met her eyes frankly. Dusty had done this. In only three months, Dusty had given this boy something always lacking in his life.
Respect.
“Silas, would you mind leading the lesson on geometry this morning? I’m afraid you’ll be teaching me too, or at least reminding me.” She smiled at him and he smiled back, rising and moving to the blackboard.
Connie noted a corner of the board had a list on it, carefully blocked off with a heavy chalk border. Topics of discussion? It had to be. It looked like a list of some of the areas of interest they had discussed at the dinners around the Stevens’ table. How incredible. Dusty wasn’t treating the students as children, but instead engaging their minds as he had the adults around him. Why had she never thought of that?
After geometry, one of the boys brought a piece of newspaper to her. “I found an article on Mister Nikola Tesla. Mister Stevens gave us a long-term assignment to watch for anything we saw regarding him to help with our study of his ideas.”
“I’m not familiar with Mister Tesla.”
“A lot of people aren’t. He’s an inventor like Mister Edison. Mister Stevens admires him quite a bit.”
“It looks like I have as much schoolwork to do as you.” She laughed and saw several of the students relax. It crossed her mind she had never laughed in front of the children before.
Well, what was wrong with a little levity in the classroom, as long as they were learning? It wasn’t the way she had been taught, but it seemed to be working better.
No, she was not going to allow this school to revert. The students were engaged and eager. It was a wonderful sight.
~ ~ ~
When classes were over for the day, Silas approached her desk. “Do you think Mister Stevens will be back soon?”
“I wish I could tell you. It came as a surprise to me this morning. I need to talk to him.”
“There’s a notebook, ideas and sketches we’ve been working on together, mostly after school. I’d like to make sure nothing happens to it.”
“I’ll ask when I see him.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He tugged his forelock and left, Connie staring after him. Had he ever spoken to her before without being called on?
Connie made her way to the Tillman house after she locked up the school.
“Elizabeth?” She called when she entered the front door.
“Connie!” Elizabeth hurried into the foyer. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Is something wrong? The message from Miz Masters just said I needed to teach today.”
“They’re gone.” Elizabeth looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in front of her.
“What? Who . . . No!”
Elizabeth nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “Everything is here. Dee’s trousers, what she calls jeans. Her shoes and Dusty’s suitcase. All their things are in their room. Everything except them.”
“When did they leave?”
“No one saw them or heard anything. It didn’t even look as if they got out of bed, just . . . vanished from it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. Marcus said the most extraordinary thing.”
Marcus? They were using given names? Connie held tight to her curiosity, waiting.
“He wondered if they were . . . angels and their work here was done.”
“A-Angels?”
“Connie, not a single one of Dee’s patients died. None of them, not you or little Daniel, Sam Dula, or Jedidiah with his terrible accident. You didn’t even get an infection. I hadn’t thought about it but it’s true. And the things they both knew? Think about it.”
Connie found she could only blink. Nothing like that had occurred to her. It wasn’t possible, Dusty and Dee were too normal—no, that wasn’t the correct term. They were anything but normal, but they were real and down to earth once you got to know them. Was such a thing possible?
Grasping for a sense of balance, Connie thought about Silas. “One of my students was asking for a notebook he and Dusty used for ideas. Have you seen anything of the sort?”
“No, but Miz Masters has been cleaning up and packing their things away.”
“Packing them away?”
“Doctor Morgan and his wife will be here Friday. She has to get ready.”
Connie closed her eyes. No one could replace the Stevens, but it wasn’t her call.
Somehow Dee and Dusty had made the transition easier.
“I’ll go ask Miz Masters about the notebook.” Connie sighed as she and Elizabeth exited the room.
They found Mrs. Masters in the kitchen with Cook.
“Notebook? Yes, I found a notebook like you’re describing. Lots of scribbling and drawings in it. What student asked?”
“Silas Jordan.”
The name caught Mrs. Masters’ attention. “I’m sure Mister Stevens would want the boy to have it. Do you think it would be safe at his home? If that worthless father of his . . .” She trailed off.
“That could be a problem.”
“What if the boy came here after school to look at the book, study it? He could work here in the kitchen and Cook could make sure he gets a good meal for his supper on those days.”
Connie attempted to temper her smile. Too much enthusiasm and Mrs. Masters might retreat, but Dusty’s work with Silas could continue. Maybe she could convince Silas to try to explain some of Dusty’s ideas to her. Teaching always helped her learn, so it might work with Silas as well. “I think that would be an excellent solution. I’ll mention it to Silas tomorrow.”
Sorrow colored her words. Were Dee and Dusty gone forever?
Chapter 27
Washington, D.C.
Dusty wasn’t home. His meeting with Angie was tonight. He’d invited Dee to join them. She had demurred.
She’d seen the picture of Angie and wasn’t in the mood to compete.
The woman was beautiful, dark and almost exotic looking, while Dee felt like a whale. In her mind she knew she’d get much bigger than she was now. The analogy stuck.
Even Dusty didn’t know if he’d slept with Angie in the previous time line, but the man could have anyone. He didn’t need a lot of people skills to bed a woman, and his physical skills at lovemaking surpassed anyone she knew. Damn it, he might have other children now. He could have spawned with hundreds of women.
Spawn? Where had that word come from?
Nevertheless, it was true. They’d only have to wait around and women would come out of the woodwork to claim a piece of him.
Angie was just the first. Should she have gone with him and confronted the woman? Hell, that could lead to confronting every woman she saw in the grocery line, maybe patients as well.
“Should’ve gone and staked my claim,” she mumbled.
Damnit, where’s this insecurity coming from?
Dusty wasn’t
like that. Hadn’t he shown his love to her in every way?
Why was she so damn agitated?
~ ~ ~
At a table in view of the door to watch for Angie, Dusty wished again Dee sat beside him. She’d assured him he should come alone. Bugger that, he wanted her with him. She’d made him human, and even though the buzz was at a much lower intensity now, he still felt it on some level with her at his side. He wanted that now. Was he afraid to meet this Angie? Had there been something between them?
He waited to order and decided he’d limit himself to one drink. Since he had no memory of her, other than the trade show—which hadn’t happened in this time line—he needed to keep his wits. Why did she want to see him?
A woman entering the bar alone caught his attention, and he realized it was Angie. Her hair was longer than in the headshot he’d found online, her eyes slightly tilted. Attractive enough, but no Dee.
Hell, he wanted to go home. Instead he rose and beckoned her over with a practiced smile.
“Dusty, you look wonderful.” She bussed his cheek and stepped back to look him over. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile like this before. What’s going on?”
“Just happy to see you.”
“Well that’s a first. I thought I was just an annoyance. Or are you in such a good mood because you’ve offed your boss, what was his name, Leonard? And figured out a way for his body to never be found.”
“Was I that bad?”
She was saved from answering by the waiter and they placed orders for drinks. Her Scotch neat caught him off guard, but he ordered the same, knowing he’d stick to one drink only.
When they were alone again he pressed for an answer. “Did you really think I wanted to get rid of Leonard?”
“Didn’t you? He was obstructing you at every turn.”
“I may have exaggerated a bit. We’re getting along much better now.”
“Really? I’m not sure I’m happy to hear it. It could make it harder to recruit you.”
Dusty relaxed. Finally, the reason she’d contacted him. There wasn’t a relationship. Thank goodness.
They began discussing their projects and relaxed into the evening.
~ ~ ~
Dee woke with a start, trembling. She automatically reached for Dusty, but his side of the bed was empty. She sank back, remembering. He was meeting with Angie tonight. The clock said 11:21. He hadn’t known what time he’d be home because he hadn’t known why Angie wanted to meet him.
Dee knew.
Was that the cause of the nightmare? Dusty gave her no reason to feel insecure. He loved her and the baby. She didn’t doubt it. Shaking her head, she pulled herself from the bed. Sleep was gone for at least a little while.
Tonight’s dream had been weirder than usual, if possible. A dark-haired woman stared at her, her eyes gleaming red for a moment. When Dee had faced her, she realized what she’d thought was a necklace was actually composed of iridescent scales on her neck and shoulders. Blue-green and shining.
Scales? She really was losing it.
Remembering the alligators that had plagued her dreams for weeks, she shuddered. Now they were merging with people?
The woman in the dream was Angie. Dee recognized her, though in the only picture she’d seen of the woman, her hair had been shorter and her skin appeared smooth and normal looking. Nothing to worry about.
No, she’s dangerous.
Why had that thought appeared? And dangerous to whom? Dusty or her?
Chapter 28
Home World of the Malveks
Braxal made his way toward Gsark’s accommodations. Accepting this invitation was unusual, but then everything about Gsark was unusual, unsettling.
Braxal was invited to share meat with him and come together to connect with his warrior sons. His words sounded like the beginning of an alliance. Were they friends now in addition to acting as allies on the Earth project?
Before he could approach the opening to the chamber, Gsark himself opened the passage and gave Braxal a small bow.
“Welcome to my hearth.” The younger warrior motioned him inside.
A female stood beyond the door, holding an infant in her arms. A young male potential warrior crouched at her feet.
“Please meet my mate, Ledda.”
There was no protocol for this in Braxal’s memory. He stepped forward and bowed.
“We are honored you visit our hearth, Warrior Braxal,” she said in a low voice, returning his bow.
That she spoke was surprising enough. Her voice was both strong and . . . soft, somehow. She wore a long gauzy robe and her neck ridges, though smaller than Gsark’s, were full and lightly colored, almost matching her mate’s. Braxal had never seen a healthier looking female. Of course, their sons would emerge as warriors. Again, Gsark was introducing him to a new concept.
“These are my two youngest warriors.” Gsark lifted the older of the two male children into his arms, mock snarling at the youth. The youngling responded with a growl of his own, then turned curious eyes to Braxal.
“Our youngest has not had a naming yet. This is my next to youngest, Loric. Greet Warrior Braxal.”
The youngling’s small, clenched claw touched his chest then opened toward Braxal.
Braxal returned the gesture, to Loric’s obvious delight. The youth scrambled from his father’s arms to crouch at Braxal’s feet, staring up at some of the larger scars Braxal boasted.
Another woman, wearing only the short pale shift females traditionally wore in public, appeared from the rear of the chamber. Ledda turned toward her with a nod. Approaching silently, she took the infant from Ledda’s arms, then clasped the claw of Loric to lead him away.
“Our older warrior sons will be joining us for the meal. They have returned from practice and are making themselves presentable. They only know I have a surprise for them tonight, not the name of our distinguished guest.” Gsark offered a libation and Braxal accepted.
Was the female, Ledda, to eat with them? Braxal hadn’t dined in the presence of a female since being sent for fostering. He limited himself to one libation in order to remain alert.
The sound of others approaching caught his ear and three young warriors entered the room. They had obviously just come from their quarters and water still dripped from the neck ridge of the youngest. They all wore formal warrior attire, though only the oldest had a scar to proclaim.
They came to immediate attention, and Braxal saw their eyes widen as they recognized him.
“Sons, please honor our guest, Warrior Braxal.”
Their claws hit their chests with some force, then unfurled in respect and extended to him crisply accompanied by short bows.
Braxal returned the gesture with full honors as he watched their faces. These warriors would excel. He had a fleeting thought of his own sons and wished for a moment he had seen their progress rather than read of it in dispatches.
The young warriors were not offered libations and Ledda gestured the meal was ready. Braxal was honored with the space at the head of the table, Gsark at the far end with Ledda beside him. The two older sons took places on either side of Braxal with the younger across from his mother.
Ledda quietly orchestrated the delivery of the meal and the men tore into the bloody meat. Once sated, they all sat back. Ledda excused herself to see about the younglings. Braxal rose when she stood and bowed again. Her look of pleased surprise touched him. Once she had left the chamber, conversation began.
The young warriors bombarded him with questions of his battles once he assured them of his welcome to discuss them. They seemed to know as much about his feats as he did.
“Where did you learn of the battle of Fardon?” he asked. “It was a relatively small skirmish.”
“But fier
ce,” the oldest, Sandarc said. “Our warrior sire has made the details available to us and we have discussed it many times.”
“Where are you fostered?” Braxal asked.
“We have not been sent away for fostering,” Denrk, the second in line, said.
“Then who trains you?”
“Our warrior sire. None could be more invested in our education than he,” Sandarc replied.
Braxal turned to Gsark.
“It is true, I am training my warrior sons with the assistance of my old trainer. Warrior Londol has been with me since I was a youngling. I asked him to stay when he no longer battled, to be my second in training.”
“Who trains your warrior sons?” Denrk asked.
“They were fostered, as was I when a youngling. My family has a long tradition of sending warriors to the south. My warrior sire’s sire, Rossul, trained there and was as your ancestor Londol to me when I trained.”
“I have studied Rossul. It must have been a great honor to be trained by such as he.” Sandarc bowed from his seat.
“Indeed. He had many scars to mark his life, and much wisdom to impart. I find I wish he were still by my side.”
~ ~ ~
Turning toward his private sanctuary, Braxal mused over the evening. He had enjoyed himself. Still, so many changes in such a short time disrupted him and made him uneasy.
Gsark was an ally. He had introduced Braxal to his young warriors as well as combining their resources, and mind talkers, to learn more about the Guardians.
Braxal did not feel as though he were being maneuvered. Surprisingly, mind talkers were at the front in this particular fight. But this was a new idea, and one the older warriors would scoff at.
Braxal entered his chambers musing on the older warriors. He had not thought of Rossul for many turns. What were the old stories his warrior father’s father had told him? Rossul had personally witnessed a major upheaval in the Malvek’s past.
