“I like to watch you dance,” he said, sitting beside me on the bench, but with his back to the competition. “Was there something different about it today?”
He was being kind, or he was subtly teasing me. Either way, it just made me more embarrassed. “I thought bench dancing wasn’t your sport.”
“It isn’t. I like to watch you dance.”
I shot him a glance. “I hardly look my best on such occasions.”
“It’s not about your hair being perfect, or wearing a gown of the latest fashion. It’s like you let the real you come shining out when you dance.”
What the hell did that mean? “I’m always the real me.” I didn’t play games.
“No. You’re always so worried about keeping your face blank and your voice moderate and your eyes . . .”
Dead? I’d been accused of having dead eyes before.
“. . . unrevealing. It’s admirable, of course, and I assume it’s necessary for your work. But when you dance, it’s like you forget all that. You become what you really are, at the core. Full of fire and drive.”
“I hate to break it to you, Doran, but the reserve you so generously described”—the prat—“is the real me.”
“It was imposed upon you by your training,” he insisted. “Just like healers are supposed to give only good news and not react when things go wrong. Just like barristers are always supposed to look like they expect everything that happens even when they’ve been shocked six ways from rest day.”
I cocked my head to one side. I didn’t know anything about healers or barristers but I could ask, “Do you assume all Shields are alike?”
“Well, I—” He cut off his words, abruptly.
He did. He really did. How very disappointing. How could any sensible person think that every member of a profession had the same personality? That just defied logic.
“You’re the only Shield I’ve ever met,” was how he tried to save himself.
That was easily fixed. I could introduce him to the other Shields of High Scape. I wouldn’t, though. I wouldn’t encourage his entrance into that part of my life. The fact that he had nothing to do with the Triple S was one of the things I liked about him. I needed people that kept me in touch with the world outside of the Triple S.
On the other hand, ignorance could be tiresome. “Don’t assume you know the whole from meeting the one,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, not chastened at all. “Do you have a watch today?”
“Not until late this evening.”
“So you have time for a picnic with me in Gray’s Park?”
I had time. I just didn’t know if I had the inclination. I liked him. A lot. And if Taro and I hadn’t started sleeping together on Flatwell, I would have no problem accepting his invitation. But things were different, and I had to tell him that, and that was something I would like to put off for a while. “I need to wash up and change,” I warned him, hoping it would discourage him, for the day, at least.
“That’s perfect,” he said. “It will give me time to gather our meal. I’ll pick you up at your boardinghouse, shall I?”
Oh, aye, that was a brilliant idea. Someone else might be there, and I didn’t know which would be worse, Taro or someone who would fill Taro’s head with all the wrong ideas.
And the fact that I was worried irritated the hell out of me. I had every right to see a friend anytime I wished to, damn it.
I wouldn’t hide that I was seeing Doran. In fact, I would make sure to tell Taro about it, because I knew Taro wouldn’t see Doran as just another friend of mine, and sneaking around would only make it worse.
Of course, maybe I was being presumptuous. It was possible Taro really wouldn’t care. It was possible he would even be relieved.
Since returning to High Scape, I’d felt a little buried in Taro. He was my Source, the most important relationship I would ever have. But that shouldn’t make him everything, and it felt to me that that was what he had become. We spent most nights sleeping together, me changing in my bedchamber before joining him in his, we usually ate together, and then there were the endless watches. It wasn’t healthy for me, and it would leave me at a total loss once Taro tired of me.
I wanted Doran to remain a part of my life. That would depend on how he handled my news regarding Taro, and my decision that anything between Doran and me would have to be nothing more than friendship. But only in my nightmares would any part of that discussion take place in Taro’s presence. “I’d prefer to meet you at the park. I’m sure to finish before you do, and I’d rather wait at the park, where there’s something to look at, than wait around at the residence looking like I’m being stood up. You have no idea how the others would torment me.”
Doran probably didn’t believe my reasons, because he wasn’t stupid, but being a proper gentleman, he agreed to the lady’s wishes. He bowed and left.
It turned out that none of the others was at the Triple S residence, not unusual at that time of day. So I quickly bathed and dressed in the same kind of clothes I normally wore when I wasn’t doing anything in particular, a comfortable long skirt of sturdy cotton, a loose cotton shirt of a creamy color, and my hair left free. I was going to be comfortable, physically if not emotionally.
If I had any discipline left at all, I wouldn’t worry about being emotionally comfortable.
I practiced what I was going to say to Doran as I walked the streets toward the park. I lectured myself on the importance of being calm and not falling into any behavior that may seem leading or suggestive with him. I told myself that I was an idiot for meeting him at all. I then argued with myself that I was allowed to have friends, whether Taro approved of them or not. And I wasn’t betraying Taro because I wasn’t sleeping with Doran.
If we had never gone to Flatwell, Doran and I would have continued on the path we’d started, into something steady and possibly permanent. I knew, without a doubt, that nothing would have happened between Taro and me had we not been so far from home and so very miserable about it. This thing I had with Taro, it was just a fancy, and like all fancies, it was insubstantial and would fade in the hard light of reality.
When that happened, I would need as many friends as I could find, people to be with so I could be away from Taro when I needed to be, when he was off somewhere with his new lovers. I knew my limitations. I wouldn’t be able to maintain an emotional balance after Taro had tired of me without Risa to listen to me complain about him, and Doran to distract me from it all. Provided, of course, he was willing to fulfill that function.
Of course, if I had any self-respect at all, I would break it off with Taro immediately, instead of waiting for him to do it.
But I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t. I wanted to enjoy this wonderful thing I had with him, for as long as it lasted. Once it was over, I knew I’d have nothing like it again.
At the same time, I couldn’t dive into it wholeheartedly. It would end. If I put all my belief into it, once it ended, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
I had to be careful.
Engrossed in my internal argument, I could perhaps be forgiven for missing the early signs that something unusual was going on around me. The purple smoke, the hissing sound, and the windows cracking in the building I was passing all escaped my notice.
But then the roof blew off. I noticed that.
My internal argument halted. I stared at the trembling building. Made of wood to allow give in case of natural events. The slats of the roof blown high and dropping down, deadly little missiles falling down on the heads of people not quick enough to dodge out of the way.
Then the windows blew out, and the purple smoke became mixed with black. It was only then that I heard the screaming.
I happened to be closest to the building. I could feel the painful heat of fire. I was stupid enough to run to the front door, screaming as my palm was scalded by the handle.
I was pulled away by firm hands on my shoulders, and a long leg kicked out and forced
the door open. Smoke poured out and the heat was searing.
“Hell,” muttered the stranger beside me. He took a few steps back. “You’re a Shield, right? Can you do anything about this?”
“No, because I’m a Shield, not a member of the fire brigade.” Normally, I would have stopped my response after the first word, but my hand hurt, and it was bloody hot. I was not at my best.
There were screams coming from within the house. Damn it.
I was not a member of the fire brigade. I’d never aspired to be. But the fire brigade was not there. My eyes blinking with tears, I ducked low and through the door, because I was a complete idiot. I crouched. Near the floor the smoke was lighter and it was easier to see.
I didn’t waste much time looking at the furniture. My eyes were drawn to a woman dragging two young children toward a set of stairs that was across the room from the door. In other words, away from the way out. Stupid woman.
I looked up. There was a hole in the ceiling, clean through the second floor. I could see the sky through what remained of the roof. What could do this?
Gods, the heat was unbelievable. I felt as though my skin was blistering off my face, my eyes boiling in their sockets. But I couldn’t leave while those people were in there.
The older child was close to the woman in size. She pulled away to make for the door. The woman astonished me by grabbing the collar of the child’s dress and yanking her back. I wanted to shout at her for that bit of stupidity, but the air felt too dry to talk.
This caused the woman to look up and notice me. She released the smaller child to throw a hand out at me. “No!” she shouted. “Stop!”
What the—? I looked to the floor at my feet, searching for the gaping hole of fire I’d obviously missed the first time around.
What I saw was a circle of white powder on the bare wooden floor, symbols that I didn’t recognize drawn within the circle, a knife with a white handle, a knife with a black handle, and a small silver bowl with a red liquid within. Oddly enough, nothing within the circle had been disturbed.
It was nearly the size of the floor, and the room couldn’t be crossed without crossing the circle as well.
I stared at the woman, stunned. She was trying to cast a spell? And when her house caught on fire, she was more concerned about preserving her precious little circle than the lives of her children? Look at her, herding them up the stairs, with flames reaching down from above. Heartless bitch.
Some people should not be allowed to breed.
I swept at the circle with the length of my foot, the first step to crossing the room.
And immediately, the flames and the smoke, both the purple and the black, were gone. The noise dove into thick silence. Even the smell disappeared.
The damage remained, though. The shattered windows, the holes in the ceiling, the scorches on the walls. I couldn’t quite understand what was going on, but before there was chaos, and suddenly the only sound was the crying of the two girls.
I felt so annoyed, so restless and jittery, that I wanted to charge across the room and slap that woman.
The man who’d kicked in the door stepped inside. “You’ve been casting!” he gasped, pointing at the floor.
It didn’t make sense. There were no candles within the circle. If there had been, that would have explained how the fire had started. Though not how it had ended so abruptly.
There had to be some explanation other than my breaking the circle. There absolutely had to be. Just because I couldn’t think of one didn’t mean one didn’t exist.
Damn, my hand was killing me.
“Get out of my house!” the woman shrieked. She was a pretty thing, I noticed almost absently. Very fair skin, wide blue eyes, true blond hair. “You have no right to be here!”
“Your house was on fire,” I pointed out, just in case she had failed to notice it herself.
“And now it’s not.”
All right, so not unobservant. Just really, really stupid.
“Get out!” she shouted, and there were tears in her eyes. “This is my house! Get out! All of you, get out!”
All of us? Oh. Others were looking in through the broken windows and the door.
I looked at the two girls, about six and twelve, I guessed, with the white blond hair and blue eyes of the woman I assumed was their mother. They wore shapeless white dresses, possibly pristine prior to the fire, and their feet were bare. They looked confused and frightened, and although their mother clutched them close, they didn’t appear reassured by her presence. At least they weren’t idiots.
“Get out!” the woman screamed again, her voice cracking.
I didn’t know what else to do. It was her house. I didn’t really want to have to help her clean up the place. And now that the fire was out, however creepily that had been accomplished, whatever was going on in the house was none of my business.
The man who’d come in with me had a different opinion. “I’m getting the Runners!” he threatened before charging back out of the house.
“Go ahead!” the woman shouted after him. “You!” I found her staring at me. “Out!”
Why was I standing around here? If anyone needed saving, and I had a feeling all three of them did for different reasons, they didn’t want to be relying on me.
Well, maybe the girls did. They didn’t look like they were comfortable with their mother. But there was nothing I could do about that, either.
I walked out of the house. There was a crowd outside, waiting for the Runners to show up, no doubt. There was still no sign of the fire brigade. I wondered if they would be showing up at all.
An older man tsked and touched the back of my right hand. “Best have that looked at, lass,” he said.
There was a truly ugly burn in the palm of my hand and along the insides of my fingers. It stung, and I didn’t want it getting infected.
Still, I couldn’t help lingering a little, looking at the mess that had been made of the house. Really, how had she managed that? And then the scowling woman slammed the door shut.
I did leave once I heard the Runners approaching. I didn’t want to get caught up in their investigation. I made my way to the closest hospital, waited forever and met with a healer who slathered my palm and fingers with salve and wrapped my hand to uselessness. I was instructed to wash my hand daily and change the bandages every time I washed.
Life would be just too unusual if there wasn’t something wrong with me. And it gave me something to think about other than the fact that that woman appeared to have created a fire by casting a spell. Spells weren’t real. There had to be some other explanation.
Chapter Eight
I’d forgotten about Doran and our picnic. The whole thing with the fire had driven all such mundane ideas out of my head.
I was reminded of them with painful immediacy when I returned to the Triple S residence. Because Doran was in the kitchen, which was, as usual, the first place I went. I needed some water to clear out my throat. Doran was seated at the long wooden table, picnic paraphernalia piled on the chair beside him.
Taro was at the other end of the kitchen, leaning back against one of the counters, a mug of something in his hand. Oh, lovely.
Not that they appeared to be arguing, or sitting in stony silence, or anything else so adolescent. I seemed to have interrupted a polite conversation, Doran with his own mug of what smelled like tea resting on the table. The two men looked comfortable and casual, and would have fooled any stranger.
I wasn’t a stranger. Doran was wary, but hiding it well. Taro was furious, and the only way to tell was by looking at his eyes. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Doran that he was angry with. I probably held that honor.
Yes, this was going to be a treat.
But Doran noticed my hand and jumped to his feet, crossing to the door. “What happened?” he demanded, and I backed a step away before he could touch my hand.
“I passed a building that was on fire, and there were people inside screaming, so I�
��” Did something really stupid.
“Decided to join the fire brigade?” Taro asked coolly. He didn’t move.
“It’s just a burn. Not a bad one. No harm done.”
“Your face is very red.”
“That will fade.”
“So you’re all right?”
“Aye.”
“And up for talking, are you?”
Well, I’d rather skip the conversation I feared was coming. I really didn’t feel like dealing with the two of them at once. Should I take the coward’s way out and claim I was shocked and tired and needed to lie down?
And suddenly, I was irritated. An ambush, that was what it was. How dare Taro try to call me to the carpet? I was doing nothing wrong. “Certainly.”
“I was concerned when you didn’t meet me at the park,” said Doran.
I’d already explained that. “I was at the hospital for a while.” I waved my hand. “I do apologize for making you wait. And I don’t know that I’m up for a picnic right now. I’m not really hungry.”
“Of course,” said Doran. “I understand. Perhaps tomorrow?”
I wanted to put him off, tell him I’d discuss it with him another time. But that was cowardly, too. And the firm line of Doran’s mouth indicated he knew of the temptation, and he probably wasn’t going to let me give into it. Not quietly, anyway. Well, fine, then. “Yes, I can do that.”
He smiled only slightly. There was something almost smug in the expression, something I had never seen in him before. I didn’t care for it. “The third hour of the decline?”
“The third hour.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up here.” Another challenge.
“That would be lovely.” Challenge accepted.
He nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He looked at Taro. “It was a pleasure speaking with you again, Shintaro.”
“Aye, it was, Doran,” Taro responded.
Never had I seen the men so chilly with each other.
I saw Doran out, well aware that the more difficult man was the one still in the kitchen. He was going to get all emotional. It was important that I stayed calm. Because there was no doubt he was misunderstanding all of this.
Moira J. Moore - Heroes at Risk Page 9
