Deven responded to David’s summons without hesitation, and found the Prime in the hallway outside the music room, leaning against the wall doing something on his phone.
“Good, you’re here,” David murmured distractedly. A beat went by before he finished what he was doing and gave Dev his full attention. They were all starting to get used to that, with varying degrees of irritation.
“I don’t want to leave her,” David said quietly, tilting his head toward the door, “but I have to go to Hunter—Novotny’s got prelims on the first scans of the possessed. She says she doesn’t want company, but…”
“You don’t believe her?”
“Usually? Of course I would. She always means what she says. But this time…” For just a moment David shed the years of carefully lab-grown calm and equanimity and was a troubled husband, to Deven’s relief. “The last time I saw her like this was just after we met. She’s always been scared of falling back into a depression like that—you know how it can swallow you.”
“It’s been one night,” Deven pointed out.
“Yes. But whatever she needs—distraction, an ear—you always know what to do.” Again, the worry. “I never know.”
“Nonsense,” Deven replied. “You know exactly what she needs—you’re her Prime, remember?”
“Right now all I know is that she needs her best friend.”
Dev nodded. “All right. Go on. I think I might have the very thing.”
David kissed his forehead, lips, and nose, and slid his arms around Deven for a long moment, giving Dev another glimpse of the uncertainty that lay behind a lot of his seeming distance lately. There was only so far he could pull away from the entire Tetrad, but it wasn’t for lack of trying…though the real reasons behind it, Deven couldn’t quite latch onto. What did he gain from trying to be the strongest? What did he stand to lose?
No time to delve into those mysteries now. The Prime let him go, gave him one last kiss, and was gone—David never seemed to walk anywhere anymore if he could just Mist and save that precious minute and a half it took to get somewhere like an Earthling.
Shaking his head, Deven peered into the music room, and saw pretty much what he expected.
The Queen sat with her temple on the closed piano lid. Only a single candle’s fitful flicker cast any light over the room. Her performance guitar from the night before lay on a table, and Deven saw it was broken: the neck was cracked, but moreover, there were two bullet holes in its body.
He rolled his eyes at the universe’s high-school English-Lit-level grasp of symbolism.
“Hey there,” he called gently. She had to know he was there already, of course, and might have overheard his conversation with David in the hallway if she’d been paying attention, but he had a feeling her mind was far from the room.
Her eyes opened partway. “Hi.”
He looked around as he approached her. All her other instruments were closed up in their cases instead of on display; the whole room had a funereal feel, radiating in part at least from its mistress, whose weary grief weighed heavy in the air. It wasn’t a weeping, railing-at-fate kind of pain, but instead the kind of quiet leaching away of hope that Deven knew all too well.
As long as any of them had known Miranda she had been fiercely devoted to her music, and performing was a huge part of it even though she couldn’t tour and promote herself as heavily as other artists. It was a fundamental part of her identity—and she had chosen, of her own free will, to drop it on the ground and draw her sword. That wasn’t something she could just get over in a day. She had lost friends, loved ones…now pieces of her life were weathering away from her like cracked stone from a wind-wracked mountain.
Releasing ties to humanity was something every vampire who survived their first decade had to deal with. Even the most normal seeming vampire would eventually have to walk away from what he or she had known in order to live as an immortal. Time wore down all things, but they remained. He knew that better than most.
No, this wouldn’t do at all.
She moved over on the bench to let him sit by her, and he put an arm around her waist, letting her turn to rest her head on his shoulder.
She sighed. “Come to tell me it’s not forever?”
He considered that. “Is it?”
A pause, then: “I think it might be.”
“Well…if you’ll recall, you told the Council you’d retire in ten years. They couldn’t stop you if they wanted to, of course, but even then you knew there would be a timeline of some kind on your public career.”
“I know.”
“And assuming you don’t end up blamed for what happened at the benefit you can still release albums. You can claim your illness has gotten worse. You never were a huge touring act, and nowadays there are ways to reach your fans that won’t even require you to leave the house.”
“I know.”
He smiled. “But you’ve been thinking about all of it in endless circles since last night. I wish you’d called me—I would have come sooner, but you seemed to need space.”
Her answering smile was wan, but genuine. “I assume David brought you here tonight.”
“He’s worried.”
“I know.”
“Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…in fact I was hoping you could help me.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled. “Oh? Special weapons practice, sparring, something else diverting?”
“Actually…babysitting.”
Now both eyebrows lifted. “…huh?”
“The leaders of the Elven refugees have finally decided to bring Nico in on their meetings, if for no other reason than he has access to the plans for the new settlement. So he and Kalea are busy until well after midnight, leaving Inaliel on her own except for the door guard, who asked Nico personally if they could find someone else to be in charge. Nico batted his eyelashes…among other things…at me and before I knew it I agreed to watch her.”
Surprise overrode Miranda’s sadness enough to make her sit up and look at him. “Wow, you really said yes to that?”
“It’s just for a few hours.”
“But you’re terrified of her.”
He laughed. “In a way, I suppose I am. But you and I both know what happens when we avoid that which we fear.”
“It chases us down,” she sighed. “Yeah.” Now a frown crossed her face and turned into something doubtful. “I don’t really like babies, though—”
“You don’t have to do anything. She’s pretty self-sufficient, and she’s my charge anyway. I just need…”
“Moral support?”
“Yes.”
Deven had learned over the centuries not to ask for help from others unless there was no other choice. Most people couldn’t be counted on; he could only depend on himself. Some of that had worn away after he’d met David, and yet more when Jonathan blew into his life like the West Wind and rendered many of his defenses obsolete. But he was still loath to ask favors, even tiny ones, so when he did, people noticed, and Miranda noticed more than most.
“Okay,” she said, nodding purposefully and getting up from the bench. “Long as you don’t expect me to do any diapers.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
When they left the music room, Miranda paused to snuff the candle, and then rested her forehead against the door for a second. He lay a hand on her back, saying nothing, just letting her know he was there.
Finally she sniffed and turned away. He reached down and took her hand.
“Can you repair your guitar?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s toast,” she replied. “But that’s why you never have just one concert instrument—I had three of that same model, plus several others I had tuned for different songs so I could just switch out during a show. I mean it was more for broken strings than bullet holes, but still, I guess I won’t need so many now either way. I still have my original
12-string regardless.”
He tried to keep it light. “You could open a music school for displaced Elflings and bored priestesses.”
She chuckled. “Now there’s a mental image. But you know, if everyone signs off on the plans they’re all going to have to get used to each other. Has anyone from either group made overtures toward the other? I’m sure you’ve been watching.”
He smiled—of course he’d been watching. “There’ve been a few sightings of some of the younger Elves peeking in at the temporary Temple, probably to see if there are any orgies or baby-Elf-drinking going on. And one of the priests of Elysium got turned around in the hallways and ended up in the Elven wing, so they helped him get back to his room. I think given enough time they might start interacting on purpose.”
“That would be good. We’re all in this together.”
“It’s always the young ones who get things going. Six-hundred-year-old Elders have done things one way for so long they’re scared of anything new, but the young…rather like certain upstart Queens of my acquaintance…always shake things up.”
“Have I really shaken anything, though?”
They’d reached Dev’s suite, and he nodded to the obviously-relieved door guard and held open the door for Miranda. “You shook me,” he pointed out.
She stopped just inside the threshold and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for saying that.”
Kalea and Nico had wheeled Inaliel’s bed into the suite along with the array of belongings a six-month-old accumulated in a few days’ time.
Miranda shot him a look. “How long exactly are you keeping her, again?”
Deven grinned. “Nico volunteered to keep her all night so Kalea could have some time to herself—he’d already asked if I minded. But that was before the others asked Nico to attend their meeting. I thought for a second he’d planned the whole thing but he swears he didn’t, and you know Nico, he’s a horrendous liar.”
“True.”
They both leaned over the crib, and Miranda apparently was expecting a sleeping baby, but Inaliel was sitting up quietly, sucking on the ear of her stuffed bear, her tiny bare toes wiggling. When she saw Deven she grinned hugely around the bear, but grew sober again at the sight of Miranda.
Elfling and Queen studied each other. Miranda insisted she didn’t know anything about babies, but this was no ordinary baby; Inaliel stared back at her with a degree of awareness many adult humans never reached.
Inaliel’s fair face pinched a bit into a frown that was damn near hilarious given it made her look like something that had wandered off the set of Fraggle Rock, but she held out a hand and said, “Vrit!”
Miranda started. “I forgot she talks!”
“Kalea said she’s not quite at sentences yet, but she’s definitely mastered demands.”
“Okay…” Miranda leaned closer, allowing several of her curls to fall into the crib over the baby’s head. “If she pulls it I’m going to punch you.”
Inaliel gazed up at the shining strands of red that bounced over her and very carefully reached up to bat at one, apparently fascinated at how it caught the light. The particular red of Miranda’s hair was virtually unknown to the Elves, as was curly hair of any sort. Elven hair was uniformly long, silken, and straight as a board, which was why they braided and twisted and adorned it with such abandon. “Fire!” Inaliel exclaimed.
That was new. “Picking up some English, are you?” Deven asked. “I wonder what your kinfolk will think about that.”
The baby stuck out her tongue.
Miranda laughed, seeming as surprised by the sound as the baby was—Inaliel clapped her hands and laughed along.
“I should have stopped for some ice cream,” the Queen said, stepping back from the crib to sit down on the bed.
“Fridge,” Dev said, gesturing. “I had it stocked.”
She headed over to the small freezer/fridge where emergency blood, baby food, and ice cream were located. “You think of everything.”
Deven, meanwhile, was having a staring contest with the little one now; he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with her. Did she need entertaining? Was it better to just leave her in the crib with her toys? But Inaliel knew best, it seemed, and made the universal “up!” gesture with both hands.
He sighed. “All right. You win. You and those ears—your uncle Nico knows how to work his too.”
“To somewhat different effect,” Miranda said as she deposited two pints of ice cream, two spoons, a bottle of Scotch, and the remote control on the bed and set about pulling down the covers and shucking her shoes. At his raised eyebrow, she replied, “Slumber party.”
Deven lifted Inaliel out of the crib; the Elfling immediately wrapped her limbs around him, with one wee hand reaching up to pat his face before it set to poking at his ear. She seemed confused that his ears weren’t pointed.
He sank down onto the bed cross-legged next to Miranda. She took a long swig from the Scotch, ignoring Inaliel’s curious look.
“I’m your moral support,” the Queen told Deven. “This is mine.”
Dev shook his head. “At least you have better taste than your husband did when he was strung out over you.”
Inaliel’s chubby, diapered bottom landed with a poof! of baby powder as she slid out of his grasp and onto the bed. She was far sturdier than he’d expected her to be. Elves in general looked a lot more waifish than they actually were, though few were what he’d consider muscular. It was really no wonder Nico had always stood out from his peers—he seemed more of the earth, somehow, even as alien to the Earth as he was. He was rooted in a way other Elves were not.
“Come on,” Miranda said. “Let’s do this right.”
She flopped back into the pillows and grabbed the remote, summoning the television from behind a wall panel.
“What’s considered age-appropriate for a six-month old Elf?” the Queen asked around a spoonful of Cherry Garcia.
Deven got under the covers next to her but let Inaliel decide for herself where to sit; the baby sat there a minute weighing her options before laughing gaily, pushing herself up onto all fours, and scooting up next to him in the hollow created by Miranda leaning on his shoulder. She burrowed into the space and gave a satisfied nod.
“I can move her,” he said, hoping Miranda wouldn’t object.
Miranda pondered the tiny creature who was trying to get hold of either the remote or the Scotch, it wasn’t clear. “Can she eat ice cream?”
“Probably not…she won’t ever have had dairy. I don’t think either of us is prepared to deal with the aftermath of a lactose intolerant baby. Hang on—”
He reached with his mind over to the fridge, and plucked out one of the soy pudding cups Nico had requisitioned for the children. They didn’t have much experience with chocolate, but had taken to it like champions.
“Is it an ethical thing?” Miranda asked. “No dairy, no meat, I mean.”
“Not exactly. But sort of. Avilon, at least, is in dense forest where there’s no grazing land to speak of, so herds would be impractical, and mostly they consider the woodland animals friends. They’d no sooner eat a deer than a dog. And at some point they realized rather than using all the food and water to raise animals, they’d just cut to the chase and eat the food and water themselves. For them sustainability has always been a requirement.”
As he spoke he gave the baby a small spoon—just as Kalea had said, she already knew how to feed herself—and also nabbed a towel to serve as a bib in case baby Elves were as coordinated as baby humans in that department.
“It’s funny, we’re kind of the same way,” the Queen observed. “Anyplace there are too many vampires there’s not enough to eat without causing trouble. That’s part of our job, in theory, making life uncomfortable for those who can’t control themselves so they either end up dead or move somewhere else.” She frowned again as a thought occurred. “The Order of Elysium kept human servants, did you know that? Was th
at how they fed?”
Deven nodded. “Partly, depending on how many humans there were available. I think this Cloister supplemented with deer. Traditionally the humans were devotees of Persephone who offered their blood and labor in exchange for room, board, and training in the Order. Some eventually became vampires themselves and others ran their own sort of sub-Order within the Cloister, but they could attend classes and services like we could. But again, the Cloister could only support so many people that way.”
Now her expression grew thoughtful as she passed him his own pint and spoon. “Well if they’re all going to live together, I wonder what it would take to create a system like that for everyone? I mean the site is close enough to the city that we can bring in blood like you did at the Haven, but it would be way more practical—and safe—if they could work out something with the Elves.”
Deven laughed outright. “Fine, you go suggest it to them.”
Miranda had to laugh too. “Good point.”
Deven pulled the lid off his ice cream, and they settled into the pillows and blankets for what turned out to be a Disney movie, one of the dozen or so he’d actually seen before. Jonathan had had a soft spot for animated films; Deven had introduced him to anime, and they’d had a number of marathons during bad weather, wrapped up in blankets and each other’s arms.
“God, what terrible parents,” Miranda said about twenty minutes in. “I mean if someone told you fear was your kid’s enemy, what kind of asshole—sorry, jerk—would teach the kid to be scared of everything? Seriously, the King was an idiot if he thought depriving her of social interaction and friendship…not to mention her sister…would keep her from losing it.”
“Sometimes parents make stupid choices out of love,” Deven noted, stealing a bite of her ice cream. “Maybe there was more to the plan once she became an adult but they didn’t get that far. I agree it was a bad idea, though. I’ve never met a shut-in who had a belfry clear of bats.”
Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7) Page 17
