Still apprehensive about meeting his friends, she returned to the apartment wearing a green gown with darker green ribbons woven through white lace and carrying the two other gowns that had struck her fancy. Del arrived just as she hung the two other dresses in her closet.
"You will like my friends," he insisted when he noticed her apparent nervousness. "They are good people, Laren." He helped her into his aircar. Berti, one of Del's private Security, was flying. Perhaps it was Motz's day off.
They rode in silence to their destination, with Laren wishing she had made an excuse to stay home. Berti parked on the roof of a Protected building. It housed only the Security cleared. Del and Laren entered through the top floor Security office rather than the main stairs, which did not help ease Laren's fears at all. Too tense to relax, Laren hoped Karra didn’t use that as an excuse to appear. But Karra hadn’t been around lately, at least not directly. Laren sometimes felt a kind of rumbling as if her alter were about ready to explode. Karra was dangerous. Someday she would refuse to reign in that temper of hers and kill her beloved.
A plump, pale-skinned Nevian woman, her long white hair piled gracefully atop her round head, opened the door to his ring. Slim, almost militaristic, Laren expected. But grandmotherly?
"Dearest Del." The woman hugged him. "And this must be Laren." She took Laren's hands in a gentle embrace.
Karra hovered, but she felt no one’s touch when the Nevian woman took Laren’s hands. She used to feel physical sensations when someone touched Laren, or when Del embraced her. But ever since the beast had rewarded her with ice, she had been unable to feel anything. It was as if she had been placed in a freezer, shelved away like a cut of meat. Her body was completely numb. Only her mind was active. She hated this. Even sounds seemed to come from a distance.
You’re only needed for special jobs, my dear, the beast purred in her ear. Yes. I feel your fury. Soon I will allow you to unleash that magnificent hatred. For now, Laren may allow you to watch. Or perhaps she may not. You are no longer the one in charge.
And she wasn’t. She found she had to struggle even to watch from a distance.
"Von, dear." Del gave her an affectionate pat. "Please meet my lady Laren Demmita. Laren, this is Vontl Ambreen Ka. And this," he said, gesturing to a man standing to Von’s left, “is Manwu Elan Ve Ka.”
"Welcome." The man's expression remained distant, his darker face severe.
"Pleased to meet you, Mistress Vontl Ambreen." Laren bowed. "Master Manwu." She bowed again, just as perfectly.
"But so formal!" protested their hostess, although she did return the bow. "Please, Laren, just call me Von, and my husband Manwu. As Del’s Lady you are welcome here.”
She nodded, beaming.
Del and Manwu spoke to each other in Nevian. Laren watched uncomfortably as their conversation took them to another room, leaving her alone with the Nevian woman. She wanted to scream curses at him for abandoning her. Neither persona knew how to deal with a female Other.
Von guided her to the couch. "Their friendship goes back to Nevia," she explained. "They always run off when they get together. But since dinner will not be ready for an hour yet, that gives us a chance to get to know each other, yes? May I call you Laren? You never said."
"Why, yes." The Nevian asked permission of a Homelander?
"Good. You see, since his wife died, Del has secluded himself away from people. I doubt that very many would recognize him, outside the political arena, naturally. We were about the only close friends he had, until he met you."
"I didn't know…" that his wife had died, she almost said. So that was why those family holos were in a closed drawer rather than on display somewhere.
"Yes. You understand why we insisted on meeting you."
"Not exactly." Her kind was rarely welcome anywhere in Nevian society. Private girls, even contracted concubines such as Laren, were usually kept in secluded apartments, certainly not introduced to best friends.
"For friendship's sake, dear."
"Friendship?” Laren asked.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but I must admit your profession came as quite a shock. But you are good for him. You see, he laughs now. So we asked to meet the woman who has returned him from mourning." She paused as though that were significant. "You are good for him, Laren.”
I am good for him, Laren repeated to herself, delighted. I am finally worth something!
"Suppose you tell me about yourself. What do you do while Del is at work all day?"
"Make messes mostly," Laren said, grinning, relaxing a little. "I'm teaching myself to cook, with no talent for it, unfortunately for Del."
"We must tell him to hire someone for you," Von said with a conspirator's twinkle.
"He would never agree. We have already discussed it."
"I can understand that. He has always loved his privacy." Von nodded with enthusiasm. "Maybe you could get someone to teach you."
"Maybe." The thought of someone besides the cleaning woman interfering in her day did not really appeal to her.
"Is it Nevian food you're having problems with?"
"He likes Nevian food best," Laren admitted. "But I'm afraid I can't cook much of anything.”
"Then I have the answer. Cooking is kind of a hobby with me. Why not come here once a handspan and let me teach you? By the way, do not feel bad about your inexperience. When I was a young woman like you, I could not cook well either. We all need to start somewhere." She acted as if the whole thing were settled.
Laren stared at the unpredictable woman in surprise. "I don't want to be in your way."
"Nonsense! What do I have to do all day but follow Manwu around? You are perfectly welcome here, and I will not have you getting timid on me. Next handspan, in the afternoon?"
Laren gave a light laugh and agreed. It felt good to make her own plans. It felt good to no longer have Karra watching over her shoulder as if she had the right to judge every action. But she wanted more than just forgetting about her alter. She looked forward to the day when Karra would cease to exist entirely.
Later that night when Del brought her home, he noted that she appeared to feel much better about the unexpected evening.
"I had a lovely time, just like you said I would," she told him after giving him a peck on his cheek. "Your friends are remarkable."
"I am glad you like Manwu and Von. Yes, they are. Were you too awfully upset when I left you alone with Von? But you would not have made the friendship had I not forced you a little. True?”
"Yes." Her eyes glittered and her lips curled in a mischievous grin. "She’s a comfortable hostess. And also quite honest, which is more than I can say for you, Del."
"What do you mean? When have I been dishonest with you?"
"Why didn't you tell me you were a widower?"
Del swallowed several times before he could respond. "She was my a’manee, my beloved," he said through a tight throat. "After her death I avoided nearly everyone, especially attractive women. I think I was afraid of feeling guilty of infidelity if I sought the company of someone else. Perhaps I was also afraid I might love my new companion more, or not enough. Then I met you, quite by accident, I assure you. But I think I loved you from that very first moment. You were so exquisite, so perfect. I can still see you in that lovely berenesh and cream gown. I may have wanted to know if such a woman existed, a properly modest human woman."
He still missed his wife and his children. Now here he was with a human female no older than his daughter would have been had her life not been so suddenly taken. He tried to tell himself that he should feel perverse, perhaps incestuous, at least realize the wrongness of his desire for her. Instead, he felt drawn to her.
"And then you found out I was registered. It must have crushed you."
"Crushed. A good word. But I found I still loved you, even more because of your attempt to leave your profession behind you. And now I have you as my lady instead of as my wife, which is decidedly against what I have promot
ed up to now. I am confused."
Confusion, he decided, was a definite understatement. He knew the common opinion of those who contracted ladies as companions. No one, except for Manwu, would ever believe that he refused to consummate their relationship. He would never, no matter how tempted, defile either this woman or the sacredness of the marriage bed. And, oh, how I am tempted!
Laren laughed. "Your stand against prostitution is hardly secret. The whole city has heard about your attempts to eradicate the yellow certificate system. Have you done an about face, Commissioner? Have I changed your mind about bad girls?"
"Never! Prostitution degrades both men and women. People, both Nevian and Homelander people, were originally created for far better than that, for permanent, not temporary relationships. Prostitution destroys all that. I hate it."
"Do you?" She lavished a smile on him, one full of love and joy, and sensual pleasure.
"Laren, I…"
"Shh, lover. I can make bad the best experience of your life. I will take you to new heights. No more of your Nevian prudishness, sweet thing." She began to remove his cape.
"Formalist," he corrected in a whisper. "My wife and I were of the old Formalist Path.”
"You’re a Formalist?" She draped the cape over a table and placed her hands on his chest, her fingers exploring his shirt buttons. "I've heard about it. Everything is so black and white, so much is punishable by death, so much forbidden territory. Didn't the Discipline originate within the Formalist Path?"
"No, but after the Purging, when most of the Talented were destroyed, the Formalists found that their discipline managed to control the few Talents who remained, especially when their access to the energies was discovered while they were still very young. Those who could not adapt to the Discipline were eliminated. Why?"
"And isn't revenge for a sin against society, where the felon would escape lawful justice, punished by their avenging angel, the Priestess?"
"You must never speak of the Priestess!"
"No, I suppose not. But, of course, she is not really a priestess, is she? She is simply one who is hired to mete out justice to those who somehow escaped it. Your very religion provides for assassination, doesn’t it? One must hire her in secret, as if she never really exists. But she does, doesn’t she? And she literally gets by with murder.”
"Where did you get all of this?"
"You Nevians think your world is so protected. But we know more than you realize. You outlaw murder, yet hire the Priestess. You would like to outlaw prostitution because of your rigid stance toward relationships outside of marriage. But you Formalists never made allowances for exposure to humans, loud, vibrant, colorful humans." A wicked smile stole across her face. "Seductive humans."
To his dismay, she began to undress in front of him. "Laren, this is not the place."
But she pressed a finger over his lips. "Hush, darling. Just hush and let me."
He had repeatedly insisted that sex belonged within the framework of marriage. The present living arrangement placed her too close to him. It challenged his belief system. But this evening Manwu, who had never been a Formalist even though he understood its tenants, had called him a fool. You are no longer on Nevia, friend, he had said. This is the Homeland, and their women are like Laren. Everyone except you, it seems, knows how good a human woman can be for a man. Let her do what she was born for.
He stared at her body, wearing only her undershift, and reached toward her. He knew she would have fallen into his arms readily, and also knew he wanted her to. Instead, Del grabbed his cape off the table and draped it over her. “No, Laren,” he said softly. “I have contracted you to be my Lady, not my, ah, paygirl? Is not paygirl the Homelander term used for prostitute?”
“But…" she protested.
“Let me introduce you to another way. A Lady is a companion, not originally expected to become a bed partner. Originally, she was to be his confidant. ‘A woman’s wisdom,’ it is said, ‘does more for a man than all his advisors.’ Since our arrival here the position has changed into something sexual. Although I am tired of being alone, I am still a Formalist. I love you, but there will be no consummation of our relationship. You need to know you were born for better.”
She sank to one of the floor cushions and stared up at him, a look of confusion on her face. The cape he had so carefully draped over her slid to the floor.
"There's a scar on your arm," he said, surprised to see a tracing that must have been from a bullet. His surprise came from the fact that she had never mentioned it.
"Do you want to send me back as damaged merchandise?" She looked lost.
"No. I want you here with me. Always."
But after he kissed her forehead, he retired to his suite, locking the door behind him.
Chapter 24
Karra refused to care what plans Laren might have had for her day. She needed to see her daughter. She had never been away from her for so long before.
It had taken an extreme effort of will, but she had finally broken free of her icy prison. The beast was furious with her. Laren was more afraid than furious, but it wasn’t as if Karra planned to kill someone. She now strode with purpose toward the Area. Before she reached the edge of the Inner City, Karra had purchased the thickweave clothing she now wore, and had hidden herself just outside the basement that housed her underground apartment.
Cloaked in a building's shadow, Karra watched Chalatta walk home from school with Benej and Kata. She could not hear the words her daughter chattered so merrily to Kata, and she desperately wanted to. All she heard was something to do with school. Tell me, Karra pleaded. Look in the alley and notice the rag on the window, and let me know what you're telling Kata.
But as they passed the alley, Chalatta never even glanced down it.
Sorrow and rage nagged at her chest as she ripped the rag away. Someday, she swore silently, wanting to scream in defiance of all Nevian authority, I will be KARRA WILLO again and be allowed to mother my child!
The beast hissed, relishing the heat of her fury. Act, it coaxed. I will reward you.
But Karra knew better than to return to Laren’s home where she would be put in that cold box unable to do anything except look out. And, even though the beast was right, that she was about to explode with the desire to hate and hurt and kill, no one existed in the Area that she wanted dead. So instead, she walked.
This time it was Laren who watched from a distance. She gave Karra silent applause for her decision to walk, keeping Del safe. It had worked before to defuse the beast.
I will not let her kill him, she told the beast, no matter what the reward. Maybe Karra belongs to you, but I DO NOT!
I created you, the beast growled. Be careful, Mistress Laren.
Karra finally arrived long past supper, but too cold and exhausted to strike out at anyone. Once again the beast was subdued.
"Where were you?" Del demanded almost as soon as she entered. "And what are you wearing?”
Laren tried to take back control, but for an instant the room flashed red.
This is the real me, Nevian, Karra thought. But both of them saw the beast's teeth flash just in time.
Back up, Laren ordered.
With reluctance, Karra complied.
Let me help, the beast suggested. But when he slammed her back in the freezer, she let out a howl of rage.
"I'm wearing thickweave," Laren told him, shaken. "There are parts of this city where certain clothing is an invitation for an assault."
His face paled, probably envisioning his delicate Laren battered in some alley. "You did not go into the Outer Area!"
"I was born there," Laren tried again.
He wagged his head in disbelief. "Laren, you will not return there. It is too dangerous."
"Yeah, my bitter-sweet home."
His expression softened. "Maybe you have family there?"
Yeah, maybe I do, Karra thought, outraged at being silenced.
"Besides Sami?” Laren said, shutting Kar
ra down. “No. They're all dead."
"Then why?"
"You wouldn't understand. Just to see things."
Chalatta! Karra screamed in helpless fury as she burst from her prison. "After all, it's my home," Karra continued.
To her alarm, Laren found she could not regain control. The beast remained strangely silent.
"This is your home," he reminded her gently. "Please, do not go back there. I could not bear it if I lost you too." He pulled her close to him and nuzzled her hair. "Promise me?"
"Del," Karra whispered, leaning against him as Laren might have. "What about the people who have to live there?"
"What about them?"
“You’re the High Commissioner. Can’t you do something?”
"What can I do, solve all of Sector Five's problems with the snap of my finger?" He snapped his finger. "There. It is better now. Do not go back to the Area."
"Don't make fun!" Karra screeched.
The beast howled with pleasure. Laren, darling, did I not caution you to be careful? Just as easily as I can give you the lead, I can remove it. Who owns you?
Horrified, Laren could not respond.
Ice, the beast promised Karra.
"No!" Laren ran to her room to keep Del safe.
"Laren!" she heard just in time to lock her door before Del could enter.
An hour passed before Laren emerged, this time with bound hair and in proper attire. A check in the mirror before she left her suite reminded her that under her makeup her face was pale. She hoped it remained the only outward sign of her previous outburst. She had been able to subdue the beast, and Karra, but only just barely. Evidently Del did not notice that her hands shook slightly or that her jaw muscles worked as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. Sami probably would have noticed that she still struggled for control.
Jem would have been on guard, Karra told her.
"What was the meaning of that unseemly display of temper?" He slapped the book he was reading down on the side table.
Her Darkest Beauty_An Alien Invasion Series_The Second Generation Page 21
