by Linda Barlow
"Really." He sounded skeptical.
"Yes. According to many sources, she was coerced into it, and she later recanted. Kate Fox, her sister, was by all accounts a powerful medium. She was examined and tested in every way that was possible during that era, but no one ever proved her to be a fraud. In fact, some scholars have asserted that the Fox sisters were attacked because they were successful women. Their psychic abilities brought them the sort of income and independence that was traditionally reserved for males."
Daniel made a dismissive gesture. "Hey, I believe in the equality of the sexes. Women are just as capable of being deceptive scam artists as men are."
She smiled. "Well, I don’t know about the Fox sisters, since they died long before I was born, but in my mom’s case I do know. She uses no tricks. As for the rappings I used to hear as a child, they were very loud noises. Sometimes the sounds emerged from the wall, or from the ceiling, or right out of thin air. And that's not all. You know about telekinesis—things moving around by themselves, defying the law of gravity? Mom has some telekinetic abilities, too. And of course clairvoyance. She can predict all sorts of events."
"How's her luck with the state lottery?"
Kate shook her head, laughing a little. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Nope."
"Jerk," she teased him. "We can laugh about it now, but it was scary sometimes when I was little, living in that spooky house of hers."
"Now that I can imagine. I believed in monsters under the bed, too, when I was a child." Daniel stroked her hair with soothing fingers. "Poor kid. You must have been frightened a lot of the time."
She considered. "Occasionally, yes, but it also seemed ordinary to me. I thought everybody's mother practiced some sort of magic and consorted with spirits."
"I wish I were recording this. Why won't you let me interview your mother? I'll probably do it anyway, you know. This material is too good to pass up."
"What do you mean, you'll do it anyway? You promised you wouldn't interview her without my permission."
"Your permission or hers was what I promised."
"Well, you won't get hers without mine," Kate said uneasily. The subject made her uneasy. Her mother on YouTube? That would be a disaster. Iris didn't possess an ounce of caution or common sense. She would answer all the interviewer's questions with complete honesty and directness, admitting that she communed with spirits long dead as freely as any normal person would admit to switching on her phone and chatting with a friend in another city. She would come across sounding certifiable.
"You'd better forget the idea. She might be a little odd, but she's my mother. I've heard about the kind of thing you do on your show. You and your crusading minions would eat her alive."
Daniel's eyes were dancing wickedly. "You mean you're not going to introduce me to your mother? But mothers usually adore me. I'm considered such a good catch."
She punched him gently on the shoulder and suggested a few choicer terms for what he was.
"So you know about my crazy upbringing now," she said a few minutes later. "How about you? Tell me more about yourself. How did you get into the work you do now? Were you a more conventional journalist first, or did you move straight into internet media?"
"Conventional. Like all starry-eyed young journalists, I envisioned working for one of the top newspapers. Despite growing up with the internet, I still labored under the illusion that print journalism was here to stay. I even had a paper route as a boy. I wonder what kids do now to earn extra spending money?" He grinned at her. "How do they pay for their monthly gaming subscriptions?"
"They probably charge their parents to repair the household computer network when it goes down. Did you work as a reporter for a newspaper?"
"I started out freelancing, but after a couple of years I got a job for a news magazine. I worked my way up and spent a few months as a war correspondent in the Middle East. Was in Afghanistan for a time, too, embedded with a medical unit. It wasn’t supposed to be a combat situation, but we came under attack more often than I care to remember."
Kate shivered and reached for his hand to squeeze it. "I can’t even imagine what a nightmare that must have been."
"Yeah. They were good men. And women–no sexism there. Amazingly brave bunch of people, putting themselves into danger to save their comrades. And the stuff they could do in the field to preserve life was amazing. Did you know that civilian emergency medicine has improved considerably because of techniques that were developed in the war zone?"
"I’ve heard that. In fact, one of the surgeons who handled my case after the accident had done some training in combat medicine." They hadn’t been able to save Arthur, though. He had died instantly from the impact.
"Were you close to death at any point?"
"I don’t know. I don’t think so. My memory of exactly what happened in the hospital is a little fuzzy, and, honestly, it’s something I can’t bear thinking about." What she remembered most clearly was the crushing grief she had experienced upon learning of Arthur’s death. "I hate hospitals."
He gathered her closer. "That’s understandable. I’m not fond of them myself, after some of the things I saw in Afghanistan."
Kate didn’t know anybody who’d been there who actually liked to talk about it, so she changed the subject. Asking him about his family didn’t prove to be a safer topic, though. He elaborated on what he had told her about his parents the night before, explaining that his mother had been devoted to his dad. "He was a commodities broker, as lucky as he was skillful at predicting trends. But he was obsessed with it. He was only 42 when he had a heart attack on the trading floor. He never even made it to the hospital."
"How old were you?" she asked gently.
"Twelve." He said the word offhandedly, as if it didn't matter, but she guessed that he was trying to contain some painful memories.
"I'm so sorry. That's awfully young to lose your dad."
"Yeah." He cleared his throat, and then went on, "I was broken-hearted, of course, but it was even worse for my mother. She was devastated. Diminished, in a way, if that makes any sense. She lost a lot of weight and got smaller, it seemed, but of course, at that age I was getting taller. She had loved him deeply, and she couldn't handle the shock of his death."
He sipped the last of his tea and leaned back with his head against the sofa cushions. "She died too, less than four years later. Cancer. She didn't have the will to fight it. She just wasted away. She was never the same, after—" he stopped abruptly, shaking his head as if regretting that he had told her any of this. After what? She wondered. But she could sense his abrupt withdrawal.
Four years later. He had been left an orphan at sixteen, she realized, aching for him. She touched his arm gently, but he drew away from her. His muscles had gone tense.
"Who took care of you?" she asked, wondering if he would even answer. After a short pause, he did:
"My uncle. My mother's brother lived here in town. He and his partner—they're gay. He's a lawyer, a litigator. They were great. I lived with them, and we rented this house out for several years. I finished high school and went away to college, but for some reason I didn't want to sell the house. Eventually, after I'd been out of the country for a while, I came back to Boston and moved in here.
"Uncle Jon and Cameron are married now and living down on the Cape. I see them whenever I can—they saved my life, you could say. I was messed up for a while after my parents died. Did some wild stuff, drinking, riding a motorcycle at crazy speeds, skipping school, not studying, not caring what happened to me. They settled me down and helped me get back on track."
"They sound awesome."
"They are."
"Well, even if, for obvious reasons, you never meet my mom, I'd love to meet your uncle and his husband." She said this unthinkingly, but wished the words back as soon as they were out. They had spent exactly one night together, and she was asking to meet his family? She felt her face and neck go red with embarrassment.
But Daniel didn't seem fazed at all. He smiled and said, "You'll like them, and I'm sure they'll like you."
Relieved, she nestled against him, her hands in his, her face near his shoulder.
"Kate..." He stopped.
She leaned her head back until her eyes locked with his. "What?"
"I don't form attachments easily, but—"
She quickly withdrew one of her hands and stopped him by placing her fingers on his mouth. "Ssh. Don't say any more." She didn't want him to say anything he might later regret.
He smiled and kissed her fingers. His eyes searched hers; then his hand slipped around to the back of her head and tilted her face to his. They kissed sweetly, without lust or urgency, and settled closer into each other's arms.
Chapter 11
If Kate had expected Daniel's take-charge domination of her life to end when he returned her to her house on Sunday evening, she was soon proven to be wrong. He called her from his home Sunday night, texted her from his office several times during the day, and on Monday in the late afternoon he showed up at the theater to watch her rehearse. It was the beginning of a pattern that continued steadily over the next couple of weeks. D. B. Haggarty didn't do anything halfheartedly. "I'm your lover now. I intend to share your life."
They spent every night together. He would drop her off at home on his way to work so she could feed Chester and play with him for a while before she reported to the theater. Evenings Daniel spent backstage with her, usually bringing his laptop so he could work while she was busy. He was putting together a new broadcast on government surveillance of the internet, which had grown exponentially in recent years. Wrapped up in that issue, he had temporarily set aside his vendetta against spiritualists, for which she was grateful.
He worked energetically, giving his full attention to whatever it was that absorbed him. He had the ability to narrow his concentration, never noticing a thing around him except what he was doing at the time. He made love the same way—totally absorbed, in her, in the experience, in the magic they wove between them.
At night, late, when Paul Tiele finally released the exhausted company, Daniel drove Kate home once more to check on Chester, and then on to his house in Winchester. One night they stayed in Cambridge because Kate was feeling guilty about the cat. "He's lonely," she explained as she cuddled the huge purring feline. "I've never left him alone so much before. Maybe I should take him back to live with my mother again."
"How’d you end up with him, anyway, if he’s hers?"
"She was hospitalized for a couple of weeks last year with pneumonia, and I took charge of him then. I got attached to him, and he seemed happy with me. Mom has two other cats, and she thought I could use a little company."
Daniel took Chester from her and patted him warily. The cat was surprisingly tolerant of this large, male stranger. "I like cats," Daniel told her. "Always have. I really wish I weren’t allergic."
"Have you taken your allergy medication?"
"Yup. I probably shouldn’t push my luck though." Reluctantly, he set Chester down, but the cat continued to cheek-rub against his legs, which eventually resulted in Daniel having to pop another antihistamine pill.
When Kate went into her office–Arthur’s office–that night to check her email, both Daniel and Chester trailed after her. Something about the room always made Daniel prickly. Tonight he refrained, with obvious effort, from making any snarky comments about its being a shrine to Arthur, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at the picture of her and her husband that still held the place of honor on her desk. Trying to distract him, she said, "I should teach you how to play Hunt the Night City so you can meet my gaming friends. It’s actually a lot of fun."
"Crank it up, then, and show me."
She did, with Daniel hovering over her shoulder, watching as the bright colors of the game came up on the big screen. Daniel quickly established his familiarity with games of this genre, although not with this particular one. He asked some intelligent questions about the game environment, the story, the typical group make-up, and the in-game economy. When she asked if he wanted to take her place and play her character for a bit, he agreed. It only took him a couple of minutes to get used to the controls.
"That looks like a pretty cool sword," he noted, examining its skin and its stats.
"Legendary drop from an end-game raid boss."
"Woo-hoo. You’re some kind of hard-core raider? My dearest girl, you have all sorts of hidden talents. Hey, I think someone’s sending me a private message. Who’s Nekrotic?"
Oh jeez. Her character’s name would have popped up when she came online, and Nekrotic, of course, was awake and playing the game. "That’s my friend Max. He plays a vampire character."
"’Hey, babe,’ Daniel read out loud, ‘Why U logging in? How come you’re not banging the BF?’"
"Oops," Kate said, laughing.
Daniel started typing a response. He typed very fast. "R U implying I can’t bang the BF & kick undead ass at the same time?"
"Babe, if U could do that, we'd know it by now. But lately Uv been like, gone girl. He must be blazin," Max typed back.
Daniel shot Kate a nasty look, mouthing, "Did you tell your friends my middle name?"
She shook her head, laughing. She hadn't. "It's just his slang."
Daniel looked skeptical, but he returned to the keyboard, typing, "He's blazin all right, dude. U can count on that."
There was a slight pause, and then Max responded, "Now if I really believed U could do the dirty & game at the same time, I’d of moved my gaming rig down to ur place & bounced U on my dick during raids."
Oh dear. Max wasn't usually so graphic. Stephen was the one who casually employed crude language. Max had probably figured out he wasn’t typing to Kate, who rarely used texting shortcuts. Max had good instincts about that sort of thing.
"Where’s your voice program?" Daniel asked in a deceptively mild tone. "Start it up for me." As she leaned over his shoulder to do so, he wrestled her into his lap, in front of the screen's camera so they would both be visible when the program came up. Daniel, who had obviously used gaming voice software before, snapped on her microphone and pulled it toward his lips. He left the sound to emerge from the main speakers. He had no trouble locating Nekrotic’s group and joining their video channel. The familiar faces of Jeff and Stephen popped up on screen, grinning. Max’s face, as usual, was hidden.
"Hello, gentlemen," he said calmly. "Which one of you charmers is Nekrotic?"
"That would be me," came Max’s low, sexy voice. "Sorry, no vid feed. Those other two idiots are Jeff and Stephen. You, presumably, are the Unbanged Boyfriend?"
"I’d try the lap thing," Daniel retorted, "except that I don’t really like to multitask. So much nicer for the lady, don’t you agree, if she receives her lover’s complete, undivided attention."
There was a considerable amount of chortling from her friends. Grinning, Kate put her mouth near the mike and said, "Hey guys! How’s it going?" To Daniel she said, "Stephen’s the one with the Harry Potter glasses. He’s a writer. And that’s Jeff with the light hair. He’s a history professor. I guess Nick's not on. As for Max, he’s kind of a phantom."
"Hey, Kate," said Stephen. "So that’s him? Very rugged. You’d better treat her right, New Guy. She’s our girl."
"She’s my girl now," Daniel said, doing the male territorial thing. Kate could almost feel the waves of testosterone coming off him. "But I’m more than glad to meet her gaming friends, even if one of them is missing a face. Hiya, Jeff, Stephen. Hey, Phantom Max. Why the mystery?"
"He’s a night creature," Stephen said cheerfully. "You know the type–can’t be photographed? Doesn’t show up in mirrors?"
Max chuckled and answered, "I keep a low internet profile for professional reasons, running my connection through a variety of proxy servers and anonymizers."
"Not for gaming, surely? Wouldn't your connection be too slow?" said Daniel.
There was
a longer than usual pause before Max responded. "I know a few ways around that problem."
"Why the secrecy?" Daniel asked. It struck Kate that she had never asked Max this simple, direct question.
"You’re media, right?" Max said. "I don’t make a practice of explaining myself to the media. No offense."
"None taken. You got something to hide from the media? Or maybe from the law? You a hacker?"
Max laughed. "Why does everybody think that?"
"You’re not putting Kate into any danger by association, I trust? Internet activity and contacts can be tracked."
Jeff, who hadn’t yet spoken, presumably because he’d been staring into the camera and evaluating what he could see of Daniel, responded to this. "None of us would ever put Kate into danger. On the contrary, we look out for her. As for Max, he’s an old buddy of mine and a standup guy. I can vouch for him."
Daniel studied Jeff’s face for a long moment before asking, "You’re Jeff, right? Who vouches for you?"
"I do," said Kate. She was feeling a little dismayed by the direction the conversation had taken. "These are my friends, Daniel, my very old and dear friends. They’re not just online personas; most of us went to college together."
"Except for Max, of course," Stephen put in, joking around as usual. "Last time he was in a university was in the 16th century, right, Nekrotic? Or am I mixing you up with one of Kate’s ghosts? I get my supernatural creatures confused."
"Kate’s ghosts lack fangs," Max snarked. "And their inability to move a mouse or a keyboard makes them lousy gamers, so I've got no use for them. Sorry, Kate. I hope I'm not riling things up in the spirit world with my dark, demonic energy."
Her friends laughed. Daniel didn’t. Kate decided this was quite enough for an introductory meeting. "G’night, guys," she said. "I just signed on to show Daniel the game, and to say hi. I’ll see you all later."
"Later," they agreed, and she waved to their collective video feeds and logged out.
