“I think we can manage that much, anyway,” Tristan replied.
Faith was surprised by how much food the Falcorans put away, though they did so with perfect manners. Since she was able to eat only small amounts of food at a time, she tried to eat very slowly so that they wouldn’t feel as though they needed to stop when she was finished, the way they sometimes did. Bubbles gobbled her food down, drank a little water, then climbed up to Faith’s shoulder, stretched out and went to sleep.
When they were finished eating Tristan, Gray, and Jon cleared the table, then returned to their seats. “Are you still agreeable to listening to our story?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, I am,” she replied, her hands tightening only a little on the glass of juice in front of her. She noticed that the Falcorans were no longer smiling, and sensed their sudden tension and worry. Her hands tightened more.
“We know that you haven’t finished the book, but we assume that you are aware of what an Arima is,” Tristan began. Faith nodded.
“You are now aware that for many centuries there were no Arimas, and that Jasani males have mated with human women instead. In order for that to be possible, males must drink a potion that forces the mating fangs to descend artificially, and alters the serum in them. After the mating ritual, the woman will no longer age, and will be capable of bearing Jasani sons.”
Faith nodded again, remembering all of this from what she’d read.
“What the book doesn’t tell you is that it has not been easy to find women who are agreeable to mating with us,” Tristan said. “Many women are repelled by the idea of mating with three men at once. They often try to convince one brother to mate with her alone, not understanding that for us, it is not possible to do such a thing. It would be much the same as asking a human to grow wings and fly with us.”
Faith swallowed hard but gave no other indication of her feelings on that subject.
“A few years ago we began to crave a family of our own,” Tristan continued. “After we were named Falcoran Clan Consuls and Grand Admirals of the Jasani Navy, we added our names to the list for Contract Brides. Several months later, we got a response.”
Tristan stopped talking and reached for his wine glass, taking a long drink while struggling to contain his rising emotions. As he drank, he reminded himself of why he’d decided to do this. He set his glass down on the table, one corner of his mouth raised in a half smile. As Jon had said, Faith was all that mattered. Not the other one. He need only think of her.
“After Diane arrived we spent the usual time getting to know her, and she us. She was very quiet, and we assumed she was shy. We told her everything, of course, both the good and the bad of what her life would be like mated to us. No woman is ever asked to make a final decision on mating a Jasani male-set without a complete understanding of all the facts and the ramifications. Later, looking back on it, we realized that she seemed to accept all that we told her a bit too easily. At the time, we were simply relieved that she did not panic and run as so many women do.
“The only concerns she voiced were, first, that we never do magic around her as it frightened her. We agreed. The second, that she was terrified that we would change our minds about her, and leave her alone and penniless on a world so far from Earth. We tried to make her understand that mating is permanent for us. She seemed incapable of grasping that, and eventually became so upset that we gave in, and did as she asked.”
Faith felt the blood drain from her face as she saw where this was going. She’d guessed this might be what had happened to them, but she’d hoped she was wrong. She looked into Tristan’s bright emerald eyes, then Gray’s eyes, then Jon’s, and was nauseated by what she saw there.
“Are you all right?” Gray asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, her voice strained. “Please, go on.”
Tristan studied her for a moment, then continued. “We arranged the ceremony to take place as soon as possible once she agreed to it, inviting all Clan Falcorans as is the custom. During the ceremony, right after we had consumed the potion to force our mating fangs to descend and alter our serum, she began laughing at us. She was no longer the same quiet, sweet woman we‘d just spent weeks getting to know. She was vicious and cruel. She thought it a great joke that we had drunk the potion, rendering ourselves incapable of mating again. Then she left, having already emptied the account we set up for her, of course.”
Faith picked up her glass and drank, trying to force down the lump in her throat. This was even worse than she’d thought. This wasn’t a case of a woman changing her mind or getting cold feet. This had been deliberate.
“We were in shock,” Tristan went on, surprised at how calm he sounded to his own ears. “While we stood there, still trying to process what she’d done, and understand why she’d done it, a Lobo male-set arrived. The same woman had mated with them two years earlier, but only after they set up an account and placed a large sum of money in it for her. As soon as they injected her with their serum, she laughed in their faces, told them that she found them disgusting, then left Jasan, taking the money, and eternal youth, with her.”
Tristan paused again and finished the wine in his glass, surprised at the sense of relief he felt now that he’d told Faith this story. “The Lobos will never be able to mate again,” he continued. “Not even if they are lucky enough to find their Arima. Diane destroyed their lives and thought it a good joke. Not long after she returned to Earth they became concerned that she might try the same thing again when her money ran out, so they kept tabs on her. Unfortunately, they didn’t learn of her return to Jasan until it was too late to stop our ceremony.”
Tristan fell silent and the three of them waited to see what Faith’s response would be. They felt her horror and outrage, and also a deep, heavy sadness.
“I understand now why you were so angry with me when we first met,” Faith said after a long silence.
“It was an irrational response,” Tristan said. “Blaming all women for what one individual did was an overreaction.”
“Still, I can’t say that I blame you for it,” Faith said. “Tell me, is that woman still walking around free?”
“As far as we know, yes,” Gray said. “We had her stats flagged. No matter what name she uses, her prints and scans will identify her as an extreme undesirable should she ever attempt to visit Jasan again.”
“That’s something,” Faith said. “Not enough, though. What she did wasn’t just dishonest and cruel. It was outright criminal.”
“It is difficult for those who are not Jasani to understand the true depth of what she did,” Jon said. “It’s not that rare for humans to change their minds at the altar, or so we’ve been given to understand. It’s certainly not criminal to end a marriage. It’s not even unusual.”
“But this was different,” Faith insisted.
“Yes, it was,” Tristan said. “Faith, I will not try to minimize what that woman did, or the effect it had on the three of us. Until the day we met you, Jon had not spoken a word in the hearing of anyone save myself and Gray. Even then he spoke only in flat monotones. Gray, who used to talk so much we could barely shut him up, rarely spoke more than one word sentences, and then only when forced.”
Faith remembered Jon speaking in flat, emotionless tones and was surprised to realize how quickly she’d forgotten it. “What about you?” she asked Tristan. “How did you change?”
“I became resentful and suspicious of all women. I should have recognized Diane for who and what she was. I didn’t. Instead, I led my brothers into a trap, failing them, and myself.”
More than anything Faith wanted to reach out and place her hand over Tristan’s. She put both hands in her lap instead. “None of you are like that now.”
“No, we aren’t,” Tristan said. “Your presence has changed our perspective. We now see things differently than we did before meeting you.”
“Because I’m your Arima,” Faith guessed, dropping her eyes to her glass.
“
That’s part of it,” Tristan agreed. “But only part. Mostly, it’s because of who you are.”
Faith had no idea what to say. Her own emotions were so tangled and knotted that she couldn’t decide how she felt. But this wasn’t about her, she reminded herself. “I’m glad that you are no longer angry, that all of you have found your way past the pain of what was done to you,” she said. “At the same time, I’m sorry that you had to meet me. I imagine it would have been far better for the three of you had you been able to live out your lives never knowing there was an Arima out there for you.”
Faith stood up, not quite daring to look at the Falcorans. Her body kept telling her to do things that her mind was absolutely against, and it was both confusing and stressful. If she let her guard down for a moment, she was very afraid that she’d do something that she knew she wasn’t ready for. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said. “And thank you for dinner. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d like to go to bed now.”
“Of course,” Tristan said as they all stood politely. “Good night, Faith.”
“Goodnight,” Faith replied. She turned and left the room, walking quickly, her head down, almost desperate to be in her own room. She opened her door, closed it behind her, fumbled with the lock, then leaned against it with a huge sigh of relief. Then she began to pace.
Now that she was away from the Falcorans, she could relax and allow her emotions free reign. She was furious at the woman who’d played such a cruel trick on the Falcorans. Horrified by how much they’d suffered because of it. But, the strongest emotion was, much to her shock, devastation at the knowledge that they could never claim her as their Arima.
***
“I’m not sure if that went well or not,” Gray said after Faith’s rather abrupt departure.
“Her emotions were difficult to read,” Jon said thoughtfully. “She was confused by them.”
“She was certainly angry on our behalf,” Tristan said. “That’s a good sign. At least she cares that much.”
“Of course she was,” Gray said. “Any decent person would be, and Faith is a lot more than just decent.”
“I don’t understand the confusion though,” Jon said. “I think that’s important.”
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“What did you tell her that would cause confusion?” Jon asked.
Tristan and Gray thought about that. “Nothing that I can think of,” Tristan said finally.
“So then, why was she confused?”
“I don’t know,” Tristan said after thinking about it for a few moments. “Do you know why?”
“No,” Jon replied. “I wish I did.”
***
An hour later Faith was tired from her frantic pacing, but no more relaxed. She put Bubbles down on her favorite pillow, careful not to wake her. Then she went into the bathroom and turned on the taps in the shower. She began to undress, averting her eyes from the mirror, then stilled. She argued with herself for a moment, then made up her mind and turned to face the mirror. She stared at her reflection as she methodically listed all the reasons why she could never, ever be the Falcoran’s Arima, even if they could claim her. It was a painful process, but, she told herself, a necessary one. A few minutes later she turned her back on the mirror, undressed, and stepped into the shower. She stayed there until her tears stopped. After her shower she threw on her pajamas and climbed into bed, too tired to take the time to dry her hair.
“Have you lost your mind, Cinthy?” a male voice shouted angrily. “You’ll get us all killed if you use that thing.”
“Don’t worry, Rick, I won’t point in your direction,” Cinthy said snidely.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Rick retorted. “The penalty for using a gamma rifle on Earth is death. Just having the damn thing can get you locked up for several decades. They’re dangerous as hell.”
“That’s the point,” Cinthy replied. “These people need to know we mean business. If they don’t make this trade, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
Faith opened her eyes slowly, her entire body screaming with pain. It took her a few moments to realize that she was hanging by the wrists from a very high ceiling. She looked around slowly, careful to prevent her body from moving any more than necessary. There were a dozen huge, shiny metal vats set in a row down the center of a long, narrow building. The wall on the opposite side of the vats held several big bay doors. One of the doors was rolled partly open, revealing a narrow swath of darkness beyond.
A maze of shiny duct pipe hung from the ceiling, blocking much of Faith’s view. She was able to see the three, nauseatingly familiar ex-guards crouched down behind the vats that stood between where she hung, and the open door. She couldn’t see Cinthy, but she had no trouble hearing her. She ignored the pain that wracked her body, and focused on what they were saying.
“How much longer?” Cinthy asked, her voice coming from a vat a little further down.
“Ten minutes,” one of the men replied. “Should I get her down?”
“No,” Cinthy said. “Let her hang there. Once they deliver Eric, we’ll get gone while they waste time with her. She’s a good diversion.”
“They are not going to give us Eric unless we hand her over,” a different man said. Rick again, Faith thought, recognizing the voice.
“They will if they don’t want me to kill her,” Cinthy said.
“If you do that, they’ll kill Eric,” Rick said.
Silence.
“We aren’t dealing with local cops,” Rick continued. “This is the Directorate, Cinthy. They will kill him, make no mistake about that, and it won’t be pretty.”
“If we trade, they’ll have no reason not to blow us to hell,” Cinthy said after another long silence. “This is the only way to be sure that they let us leave with Eric. We’re playing this my way.”
“First you bring a gamma rifle, and now you expect the Directorate to hand Eric over without keeping up your end of the deal,” Rick said. “This is not going to work, Cinthy, and you’re a fool for thinking it will. Personally, I’m not ready to die.” Faith saw Rick stand up, felt bile rise in her throat at the sight of him.
“Get down, fool,” Cinthy ordered angrily.
“I’m out of here,” he said to Cinthy. He turned around and met Faith’s gaze with a mocking grin, raised one palm to his mouth and blew her a kiss. A second later, his head simply ceased to exist, a fact that Faith had no time to register before her world became one of fire and pain. Mind bending, soul searing pain that left her wishing for only one thing. To die.
“This is worse than the screams,” Tristan said tightly as his brothers joined him outside Faith’s door. They gritted their teeth as they listened helplessly to Faith’s heartbreaking sobs. Sobs that were not loud enough to have awakened them as the screams always did. This time, it was Faith’s emotional pain that had awakened them.
“We need to push her into a deep sleep before we go into a blood rage,” Tristan said.
“We can’t,” Jon said. “She’s not sleeping.”
Tristan and Gray didn’t doubt their brother, but they reached for Faith anyway to confirm that she was awake. “What do we do?” Gray asked.
Instead of answering, Tristan stepped forward and knocked on Faith’s door. The sobs continued. “Faith,” he called. “Please let us in.”
The sobs stopped for a moment, as though Faith were holding her breath. When they resumed they were softer, and getting closer. Faith was approaching the door. Tristan waited tensely, hoping with all of his might that she would open the door, and invite them in.
They listened to the lock slide free, the door knob turn, the door open, and there she was, her face tear streaked and pale, her eyes red, the expression on her face one of such hopelessness that it hurt their hearts to see it. They all felt Faith’s desperate need to be comforted, and they stilled, waiting to see what she would do. Would she invite them in? Send them away? Or would she give in to the urge to throw herself i
nto Tristan’s arms once again as they sensed she both needed, and wanted, desperately to do. The moment stretched out, then hung there, frozen between them.
“Come in,” she said finally, the tears still flowing though the sobs were fading to hiccups.
Tristan stepped inside, Gray and Jon at his heels. “Go ahead and have a seat,” Faith said. “I’ll be right back.”
They watched Faith go into the bathroom and close the door, then they looked at each other for a moment before taking seats at the table in the sitting area of her room. As soon as they sat down Bubbles leapt onto Tristan’s shoulder. She was highly distressed, her little popping sounds conveying an almost frantic worry.
“It’s all right Bubbles,” Tristan said as he petted her soothingly. “We’re going to help, right now.”
Bubbles started to relax, then the bathroom door opened and she scrunched herself up and shot across the room to land on Faith’s shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Faith said. “I’m fine.”
Bubbles looked at Tristan, then back to Faith, obviously not buying Faith’s statement for a moment. Tristan didn’t want to give her the chance to tell them the same thing.
“Faith,” he said as she was starting to open her mouth. “We have a confession to make.”
That stopped her. “Confession?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tristan said, gesturing to the empty chair. Faith hesitated, then sat down.
“From the first night that you came aboard the cutter you have had nightmares during which you scream,” Tristan said.
“Every night?” Faith asked, surprised.
“Every single night,” Tristan replied. “On the first night, as we told you, we didn’t know what was happening and entered your room. Since then, we have not entered your room, but we have stood outside your door, unable to do anything to help you other than use our Water magic to send you into a deeper sleep where the nightmares cannot reach you. We were afraid you would tell us not to do it, and we couldn’t bear that, so we kept it from you. I cannot honestly say that we are sorry for taking you from the nightmares. But we are sorry for not telling you, as we should have.”
The Falcoran’s Faith Page 20
