Beth yanked the door open. “I call it ridiculous!”
BLEEDING HEARTS—HUNTING SEASON
EVERY DAY MOVED like a lifetime, yet summer had evaporated in a moment and October trees were already at peak color. Kahtar kept his mind on daily minutiae or how many minutes until he saw Dianta again, but never allowed it to stray to the fact that he hadn’t seen Beth in months or how that time was irretrievable and wasted.
Sitting in his creaky chair in his police chief office, Kahtar signed forms without bothering to read them. Twice he had to get up and cross the office to the paper shredder to shred documents he’d forgotten to sign as Kent Costas, his alias. The third time he didn’t bother to stand, wheeling his chair across the floor and jamming paper into the machine as he memorized the information on it. He’d need to fill out new forms, or give the new seeker cop that responsibility. Maybe paperwork overload would be his Achilles heel. The guy needed to transfer out soon.
Wheeling his way back to his desk Kahtar nabbed a pencil off the computer table, picturing the case numbers in his mind as he reached for his notepad. He pressed the pencil to paper before noticing Elder Abagail Adit now sat in the chair across from him. Startled, he pressed too hard and the pencil cracked in half. The woman knew how to make one of her tesseracts nearly undetectable to a scan and always managed to creep him out.
“Blazes,” he swore. “You could at least make some noise. There’s a seeker here so tessering around the police station isn’t a good idea.”
“Hmph,” said Abigail smoothing her standard ugly green dress. “Seekers are half blind to the comings and goings of old ladies. Kind of like Covenant Keepers, eh? If you made things right with your wife and slept nights, maybe you wouldn’t be as nervous as that dog of yours.”
“Mind your own business.”
“It’s been four months, Kahtar. She’s not going to apologize. You do realize her gifting of truth prevents insincere apologies from passing her lips, unlike the rest of us.”
“You do realize I said to mind your own business.”
“You do realize I’m an elder of this clan and like your wife I’m not above slapping your smart mouth,” hissed the chubby woman.
Kahtar laughed at the ludicrous threat. It sounded rusty and the muscles in his jaw almost seized from the unexpected upturn. “What do you want?” he asked.
Abigail put an elbow near his Police Chief Kent Costas business cards, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Look, this separation is almost against the laws of being.”
She was not going to let it go. Kahtar put his arms on the desk and leaned toward her. “This is my personal business and I’d thank you to keep out of it. Again I ask you, what do you want?”
“Is this separation Beth’s idea or yours?”
Kahtar focused on his hands. The entire clan knew Beth had left him and now spent almost all of her time holed up at her shop. Few knew she’d called him at the station several times, calls he hadn’t returned. Even fewer knew she’d taken to trying to deliver Dianta to him personally in the evenings. He made it a point to dodge her. None of it was anything he wanted to discuss with anyone.
“You have no right to ask me that,” he finally said.
Abigail sighed, a deep and weary sound, as though it came from the very earth beneath them. “Look,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “The clan is turning on Beth. We all see how miserable you are, and they blame her.”
“I’m not miserable,” Kahtar lied, ignoring Abigail’s eye roll to the heavens. “Beth is ensconced in her shop minding her own business. The clan barely sees her. I think she’s safe from their pitchforks—and tongues.”
Beth hadn’t been in the Arc since the incident four months ago. Most days they traded Dianta back and forth via warriors disguised as police officers. Despite the fact that Beth had started showing up in person, Kahtar, like most of the clan, hadn’t laid eyes on her in four months.
“This separation doesn’t just affect you and Beth!” Abigail jammed her glasses onto her nose. “It creates animosity in the clan! Instead of you setting an example and showing how an Orphan is as much Covenant Keeper as the rest of us, you’re showing them that you think Beth’s as big of a mistake as they do!”
“Don’t put that on me,” Kahtar growled. “Can you sit there and pretend you don’t think the same thing? The Mother herself told me it had been a mistake allowing Beth into the clan.”
Abigail sat back. “Anwyn said that?”
“Are you surprised someone said it to my face? It doesn’t matter. The Mother said that too. She said it doesn’t matter that it was all a mistake—Beth is in the clan for life like all of us, but she just wondered if I regretted joining with her.”
Abigail sucked in a breath. “Do you?” she whispered.
Anger made Kahtar snap. “No! I should, but I’m not that good of a man. None of this is your business, Abigail. And it doesn’t matter what the clan thinks or says about Beth. Unless she decides to apologize, it isn’t likely they’ll see her again.”
Abigail shot to her feet and leaned toward him. At less than five feet tall she stood barely taller than Kahtar did sitting down. She poked a finger onto the desk near his hands. “I’m sorry if your wife isn’t as perfect as you would have liked. Did you really think her gifting of truth wouldn’t be a burden for you too? I thought you loved her!”
Kahtar rose to his feet slowly, and the chair rolled across the room behind him. He looked down at Abigail from his nearly seven foot height, steely eyes flashing. “Love doesn’t make Beth belong with the clan. Can you stand here and tell me after all that has happened, my wife belongs with Cultuelle Khristos?”
“If you do, she does,” Abigail shot back.
And therein lies the truth of it. We, neither of us, belong.
The fight went out of Kahtar. “Do you not realize the gravity of what happened in the Arc? It could eventually cost Beth her life! There is no room for error in our world. Do you think the clan should make exceptions to our most basic rules and just hope for the best?”
“Yes, to both questions. Do you think tossing Beth aside and ignoring her will fix anything?”
“I think I’m doing what I have to do.”
Shrewd green eyes widened. “It’s not your idea. I knew it. The separation isn’t your idea! What’s going on? It can’t be The Mother’s decree!”
Kahtar didn’t answer, but neither could he hold Abigail’s knowing gaze.
“It was Anwyn? The Mother of Cultuelle Khristos told you to stay away until Beth apologizes? She has no right to separate a husband and wife!”
Kahtar sagged. After four months he almost needed to tell someone. “It wasn’t like that. That day in the Arc Beth disobeyed me. Twice.”
“Oh, come on, Kahtar. She’s your wife.”
“I was speaking as her warrior chief at the time.”
“You’re her husband first.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Because of her disobedience to me and what she said that day, the warriors voted to shun Beth until she makes it right.”
“They won’t protect her?”
“As Warriors of ilu they’ll shun her until she apologizes, and that includes not offering her protection, but since Beth isn’t in the Arc it hardly matters. They will protect her as police officers in this world because that’s a different oath. Besides, she has the Old Guard.”
“You. Are. Shunning. Your. Wife.”
The look she gave him made Kahtar feel two years old with a dirty nappy. “Don’t look at me like that, Abigail. The warriors voted. I have to stand with them. It’s a democracy.”
“Oh, please! Since when? It’s a dictatorship and as both the police and warrior chief you’re the dictator!”
A faint smile ghosted briefly over Kahtar’s lips. “A good dictator knows when his people are right.”
“Apparently not.”
“I can’t remain warrior chief if I don’t stand by my men in this. It’s my duty.”
&n
bsp; “Are you insane? Your duty is to Beth.”
Kahtar rubbed his hand over his face. “And who would be the warrior chief if I did that? I’m needed. I can’t turn my back on the clan.”
“So you turn it on Beth?”
“The things she said to me, she meant them.”
“She was angry, Kahtar. We all mean ugly things at times.”
“All she has to do is apologize and the shunning will end. The only way that’s going to happen is if she comes to that conclusion on her own. Can you deny that?”
“No, but you’re wrong to choose the clan over your wife and they’re wrong to demand it of you.”
“I didn’t say they demanded it of me. It was my choice.”
“Bollocks.”
“Besides, I know Beth well enough to know even if I could approach her seeking an apology, it would do no good.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know her. Beth’s apology needs to come from her heart. She needs to make this right with the clan, not with me.”
“I’ve never accused you of being a smart man, but I never really thought you were this stupid. You are Beth’s heart and her clan. When you make that right, everything else will follow.” Abigail stepped backward, and with the faint sparkle of a tesseract light she disappeared.
“Mammoth plop! Spare me your fairytale wisdom!” Kahtar said to the empty room, despite wanting it to be true.
With a heavy sigh he settled into his seat and began to recount the information from the shredded forms, refusing to acknowledge that Beth was only three streets away and he might possibly never see her again.
THE URGE TO change the structure of the old Victorian had faded since Beth first opened her shop. The rambling rooms and odd staircases remained. Now she barely remembered why she’d even wanted the place. Her shop, Sweet Earth, sprawled on a side street in the village of Willowyth, seemingly light years away from the veil that hid Kahtar’s cabin. Beth had no real plans to return to that place, although she dreamed of it at night—and in her dreams it was closed to her now. Part of her feared that might be true.
Surrounded by rooms of organic and natural goods she’d spent years gathering, Beth would have gladly traded it all for the cabin full of Kahtar’s mucky boots, weapons, and militant-style order.
On the floor at her feet, Dianta teethed on a wad of cheesecloth, seemingly content. At only six months old she had grown sturdy, though still a tiny wisp. Now able to sit unassisted, Dianta wobbled slightly on the floor with her short legs spread wide, her steely eyes focused with the concentration of an Olympic gymnast as she practiced her newfound skill. Beth knew one good sneeze could send her daughter tumbling feet over head, like an armadillo. She quietly set her laptop on the floor so it wouldn’t startle her.
“Mem, mmm,” Dianta growled through a mouthful of soggy fabric. Beth’s jeans strained as she squatted to the floor beside her daughter, resisting the urge to bother her by kissing the top of her curly head, or touching the tiny nose, or tugging those itty blue jeans up over the little bum where they sagged too low.
“You are the best sitter I’ve ever seen,” Beth said with complete sincerity, sliding her long legs past Dianta and plopping the laptop onto her lap. Adjusting her bulky sweater, Beth hid the fact that her pants weren’t buttoned over the bulge of her belly. Like with her first pregnancy, no one had noticed her baby bump—but then it had bothered her. Now it meant Kahtar had no idea either, which was good. Despite everything, she wanted to be the one to tell him, privately. Sometime over the past four months she’d gone from too angry to speak to Kahtar to the realization that they were at an impasse, to growing dismay that he planned to leave their relationship in limbo like this.
Beth missed Kahtar so much she could barely speak his name out loud. Some small part of her even missed the Arc; she starved for the clean clear air and waving grasses and the simple life Dianta could have there. Beth briefly pressed a hand against her chest and took a deep breath. She missed the veil far more than the Arc. She worried about Wolves and wondered if Kahtar had thrown him out of the house. Most of all, she missed Kahtar every second of the day and night, because she hadn’t seen or spoken to him in four months.
Beth pressed her hand against her chest again. Even if she’d wanted to she couldn’t apologize for what had happened. She couldn’t lie, and that included insincere apologies. Not for the first time she mentally cursed her gifting of truth. If she had one lie in her, she’d gladly give it to Kahtar.
Beth opened her laptop, distracting her heart with the boring repetition of inventory.
DEEP INTO COLUMNS of numbers while attempting to track a shipment that had gone astray somewhere between Ohio and Bombay, Beth nearly jumped out of her skin when a young woman suddenly plopped down onto the hardwood floor beside her. The laptop slid neatly from Beth’s lap toward her daughter. Both Beth and her uninvited guest reached for it to prevent Dianta from being beaned. They managed to grab it, but the near miss broke Dianta’s concentration and she rolled feet over head before Beth caught her. A furious Dianta spat the wad of cheesecloth out of her mouth and bawled.
Plopping her baby onto her knees, Beth studied her intruder, wondering why the bell on the door hadn’t jingled an entrance. The brunette looked familiar, and after several moments of fruitless jiggling attempts to calm Dianta, Beth realized why. This was the woman she’d seen kissing both Honor Monroe and Welcome Palmer that day back in June.
“Sorry,” the woman said over Dianta’s angry shouts, but she didn’t look the least bit apologetic, though her words didn’t have the ring of a lie to them. She looked young, with creamy skin and dimples. Beth wondered if she was more girl than woman, then remembered how she’d kissed Honor and Welcome. Definitely a woman. The deceptively sweet face tilted at an innocent angle as curious blue eyes examined Beth with equal interest. “I’m Delphine Green. I’m the clan storyteller.”
Beth narrowed her eyes. She’d never heard the name or known the clan had a storyteller. “That sounds interesting. I’m Beth Constantine,” she half-shouted.
“Do you want to see what I can do?” Delphine yelled back.
“Not if you’re going to kiss me,” Beth bellowed.
Delphine arched her brows over a pair of very blue eyes, as though surprised Beth had recognized her. She turned her attention to the baby. “Dianta.” Delphine’s voice sounded sing-songy. “Listen, baby girl, looky puppies, looky!”
Right there on the floor, crawling around Beth’s lap, puppies appeared as if by magic. Beth blinked in astonishment. Half a dozen fat little golden retriever puppies waddled around her, yipping, scratching at the floor and rolling onto their backs as though trying to get Dianta’s attention. Dianta’s screeching morphed into squeals of approval, and she leaned off Beth’s lap, grabbed one by the ear and yanked. Beth tried to rescue the creature, but her hand passed right through it and she jerked away shocked. Dianta somehow held firmly to the puppy ear, pulling as she tried to get it into her mouth.
“She can touch the puppy,” Delphine explained. “You can’t, but she can even smell them. They have that clean, sweet puppy scent.”
“She’s hurting it,” Beth said, again reaching for it only to be disconcerted once more by the lack of substance. The ear in Dianta’s hand looked as real as Dianta’s fingers.
“The puppy is fine. This is just a story I’m showing Dianta. Some would say that it’s not real, but some don’t understand story. My story isn’t solid to you because fiction doesn’t work on you. You can tell when things aren’t true, so you can see through it because of your gifting. That’s a little sad. Before you joined the clan, did you like to watch movies?”
Beth looked into the young woman’s eyes. “I liked documentaries mostly.”
“Maybe if I told you a true story you’d be able to touch it.”
Beth gazed at the puppies as they crawled over her legs. She couldn’t feel them, but she could see their paws and nails making slight indenta
tions across her jeans as they moved. A creepy, uncomfortable sensation crawled up her back and she looked away from the odd phenomenon. “But you were really kissing Honor and Welcome when I saw you. That wasn’t just a story.”
Delphine waved a hand dismissively. “I’d like you to forget about that.”
Beth shivered. The words seemed to push against her like a lie, but that didn’t make any sense.
Delphine’s red lips pulled into a childish pout and she crossed her legs akimbo so that every inch of her patterned leggings were visible beneath a short red dress. Blue eyes fringed with black lashes locked onto Beth’s. “Forget. About. The. Kissing,” she demanded.
Beth tried not to roll her eyes. “You know the entire clan thinks I’m weird because my father is a seeker, and here you are with your holo-grammy puppies acting like you’re trying to wipe my memory or something.”
Widening her eyes in surprise, Delphine laughed, a loud ringing sound that Dianta mimicked in spite of a mouthful of puppy ear, which the dog seemed to be enjoying. “Well, at least I don’t have seeker cooties,” said the little brunette with a sniff.
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Delphine shrugged, bouncing waves of dark hair on her shoulders. “Only because I have real—not holographic—seeker cootie protection.” Displaying crossed fingers Delphine waved them as though performing some mystical incantation, her eyes shining with amusement. Beth wanted to say it wasn’t funny, but it was. She grinned despite herself.
Delphine learned forward, her hands on her knees as she asked, “Does Kahtar come here a lot?”
The answer slid out as they always did. “No, not anymore.”
“How old are you, Beth?”
“Twenty-six next month.”
“How tall are you?”
“Five eleven and three quarters.”
“Lucky! You’re very beautiful in a fashion model way. Do you ever eat?”
FOREVER The Constantines' Secret: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 11
