by Varna, Lucy
“Getting there. These Sisters or their Daughters bred with local populations wherever they landed, diffusing the genetic ancestry of their children. The Sisters and the oldest Daughters died off, those that would’ve been genetically Near Eastern, or as close as we can determine, anyway.”
A budding excitement plucked at Sigrid. She tamped it down, refusing to jump ahead of him in the face of scientific reality. “Ethnicity derived from genetic testing is uncertain at best. The results can be, and often are, incorrect depending on the methodologies used.”
“Yup,” he said, his young voice emphatic. “That’s why I waited so long to bring this to you. I had to be sure, right? So I studied published papers, searching for anything that would help me figure out how to be exact, and at the same time, I went through every single DNA sample we have on file that’s been tested, and you know what?”
Impatience joined the excitement. She arched a single eyebrow, expecting him to wilt, and marveled when he plowed ahead.
“Of the samples taken from living individuals—” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Er, you know. Not from swords and such.”
“George!” she said. “Get on with it.”
“Right. Sorry.” He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her, every inch the excited scientist. “Of all those samples, only a few were as close to being Near Eastern as this one. Wanna guess who else?”
She snapped her mouth shut over a sigh. “Mr. Howe, please.”
“All right, all ready,” he said, but his grin never faltered. “The Oracle, ok? And, bonus points, she carries that odd mutation in her mitochondrial DNA.”
The significance of his discovery appeared to her almost immediately. She dropped the folder on her desk and leaned against it, doing her best to stifle the emotions racing within her, and when that didn’t work, she stated her conclusion aloud. “They’re old.”
“Oh, yeah. Like, Sisters old, or really close.”
“The Sisters died millennia ago,” she corrected, more out of habit than intentional thought. “But these women could be their Daughters, or could have lived at a time when the Sisters were still young.”
“Not long after the curse was implemented, unless I’m mistaken, and I don’t think I am.” His grin faded, and with it, the ramrod stiff posture he’d assumed during his explanation. “Look, maybe I’m jumping the gun here. Maybe I missed something or—”
She cut him off with a slice of her hand. “Trust your instincts, George, and your work. I do.”
His eyes shot to hers and his mouth slackened. “You do?”
“Of course. If I didn’t, you would never have been allowed to set foot here.”
“Right,” he said, drawing the word out. “Ok, then. Do you want me to dig a little deeper?”
“Can you?”
“Yeah. Archaeogenetics is kind of a hobby of mine.”
She shook her head and nearly laughed. Of course, it was. What other hobby could a prodigy like George have? “We should celebrate.”
“Really? Wow. Um, ok.” He rubbed his nape with one hand and tucked the other in the pocket of his trousers. “We’ve never celebrated anything before. Is this that big a deal?”
“Yes, it is. Think of what we could learn, of all the history these two women can share.”
If the one could be tracked down and the other persuaded to talk, but that was immaterial to the point at hand, and a problem for Rebecca to solve anyway. Sigrid glanced at her watch, and did laugh then. It was nearly five o’clock, a perfect time for an early meal.
“Supper and a drink,” she declared. “On me. Is The Omega fine? I’m supposed to meet Will there later.”
George’s shoulders hunched and his head drooped. “Oh, uh. No, that’s ok. I’ll just go on home.”
“And miss our celebration?” She clucked her tongue gently. “Come now. It’s Saturday night. Several of the younger Daughters will be there. I can introduce you, if you like.”
His pasty complexion paled and, impossibly, his posture sank into a morose slump. “I don’t want another Daughter.”
“Don’t want another…” Sigrid leashed her exasperation and attempted a more gentle tone. This child was not a Son, she reminded herself, and as such, needed to be handled with more finesse than she usually reserved for males of the species. “What do you mean?”
“Andrea,” he said, the single word so miserably spoken, even Sigrid could grasp the emotion behind it.
“Andrea?”
“The Daughter I was dating.”
Sigrid hmmd. She hadn’t realized he was dating someone seriously enough for any sort of attachment to form. “You’re no longer dating?”
One shoulder lifted under the loose fabric of his plaid button down. “Her term of duty was up. She was a guard here, you know? And she got a better offer after her contract was up and…”
When he didn’t continue, Sigrid filled in the missing words. Andrea moved on, breaking George’s heart in the process.
Raw indignation filled Sigrid. The men brought here to supplement the IECS’s staff were under the protection of the women heading the departments in which they worked, or if not them, then under Rebecca’s protection. They were to be treated with dignity and respect, and while matches were encouraged, love or otherwise, the men were subject to many of the same laws and customs as beloved Sons.
Sigrid had no Son of her own, though she’d had several grandsons over the centuries, enough to understand exactly how hard their lives could be when a Daughter spurned them.
“Look at me,” she said, and waited until he obeyed before continuing. “You will come with me to The Omega where we will order a hearty meal and you will relate every detail of your time with this Daughter to me.”
He opened his mouth, likely on a refusal, and she shushed him with a tersely spoken, “No arguments.” It was time she assumed full responsibility for her assistant, as was her duty, and past time she helped him overcome this heartbreak, one way or another.
By the time Will arrived at his parents’ bar at four that afternoon, the sky was overcast and the air held the distinct bite of snow. Inside, men and women alike huddled near the TV hung in one corner of the main room, watching a fast-paced college basketball game. Both pool tables had games going, and a third of the dining tables held small groups chatting over beer and finger food.
Eric was manning the bar again. Will caught his eye and waved, then met the other man at the end of the bar. “How’s school going?”
Eric shrugged broad shoulders under his black company polo. “It’s school. Why?”
“You up for extra hours on a regular basis?”
“I told you, man. I can always use the duckies.”
“Get me your class schedule for this semester and we’ll work something out.”
Eric dropped his chin and stared at Will through thick, black eyelashes. The onyx plugs in his earlobes flashed above the black line tattoo inked into his neck. “Is this about all the people coming in? I mean, we always get a couple of new faces every week, but never this many at once.”
Will pressed his lips into a firm line, hesitating as he measured Eric’s safety against the People’s needs. On the one hand, the mundane mortal was in no real danger as long as he kept his nose clean, and Eric was good at minding his own. On the other hand, if something was coming, maybe it would be better to move him out of harm’s way until the storm blew over and life returned to normal, if it ever did.
If there were someone to replace the bartender, Will wouldn’t hesitate, but there was no one, and with Will’s steadily increasing duties, he couldn’t fill in himself.
Oh, the life of a small business manager.
Finally, Will shook his head. “Yes and no. I have some other things to take care of for a while, but yeah, we’re probably going to have a lot of new arrivals soon. I’d appreciate the help.”
Eric snorted and flipped a bar towel over his shoulder. “Hell, man. You’re the one doing me the favor. Do you kno
w how much my student loans are?”
Will clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Two words, man. Trade school.”
“Yeah, you tell my ma that.”
“I’ve got my own mom to deal with.” And boy, was she going to be interested in what was going on between Will and Sigrid. Speaking of. “You know the tall, leggy blonde who comes in here and bickers with Moira?”
Eric paused in the act of returning to his post. “Yeah, sure.”
“When she gets here, send somebody to come get me.”
A slow smile stretched Eric’s mouth against his honey colored skin. “I’d like me a piece of that.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“Do I look stupid?” Eric shook his head and wandered off to help a customer, and Will slapped through the swinging door leading to the kitchen.
Work absorbed his attention for the next hour and a half, in between the minor emergencies that always cropped up. Casey popped her head into his office and relayed a message from Eric, who’d forgotten to tell Will they were running short on some of the local microbrews. Wayne, the lead line cook, came in fifteen minutes later and reported that a leak had developed in one of the kitchen’s coolers.
Nothing Will could do about either one on a Saturday night. He jotted notes into his calendar and tucked it into his bag. Calls could be made from home on Monday morning when he woke up. No need to come into work unless Casey couldn’t make it in that day, and she was scheduled to. Will had a feeling if he started giving up his one full day off, it’d be a long time before he’d get a another break.
About an hour after Will settled behind his desk, his cellphone beeped. He thumbed into the text message, read Casey’s warning that Sigrid had entered the bar, and checked the time. 5:23. Hunh. They must be unusually busy out front if nobody could come back and get him.
He shuffled paperwork into piles or folders, then trotted through the backrooms into the bar proper. Sure enough, the tables were steadily filling up. People lined the bar, not so many they were jampacked, but enough to have Eric hopping to fill orders.
Casey scuttled through the nearly full tables, empty tray held high. She passed Will on her way into the kitchen and flashed him a saucy grin. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
He grunted, patted her shoulder as she bounced by, and slid behind the bar, automatically filling the spot on the opposite side from Eric. Sigrid was sitting at a table placed against the far wall near the doors. George Howe sat beside her, nodding solemnly as she spoke. Their heads were, unusually enough, bent together. Will snagged a clean mug and held it under a tap of DuckRabbit stout. Work, probably, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sigrid even acknowledge her assistant in public.
Fifteen minutes later, she rose and eased through the crowd, and settled against the bar near Will, waiting patiently for him to finish with another customer. As soon as he was free, she slid her palm across the bar and gifted him with a rare, soft smile.
“Hello, Will,” she said, pitching her voice above the rumble of conversations and an old Stevie Ray Vaughan tune blasting from the speakers. “I must renege on my promise to dance with you tonight. Young George is in need of my counsel.”
Will braced his palms against the edge of the wooden bar and arched an eyebrow. “Everything ok?”
“It seems he has been abandoned by a Daughter.” Her hand curled into a loose fist against the bar. “You and I will dance another time.”
Her voice lilted upward on the last word, forming a hesitant question. Will studied the placid expression on her face, not much different than the one she usually wore, and the proud set of her shoulders under a deep red, fitted sweater. Was she really asking, or was the inflection an accident?
“Sure,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She shook her head, sending the end of her long, pale blonde braid slithering over her shoulder. “I am committed to a shopping trip on the morrow and expect to be out of town all day.”
“Tuesday, then.”
“Not Monday?”
“I’m off.”
“Ah.” Her eyelids fluttered down, hiding her blue, blue eyes. “Perhaps you could join me for supper on Monday night, if your plans allow.”
His heart picked up an extra beat. Will considered her for a moment, even as he warned his wayward heart to behave. “You’re asking me out?”
She laughed, a breathy rush of air more than sound. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy a homecooked meal.”
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“If you like.”
He nodded slowly. Dinner at Sigrid’s house, just the two of them? Anticipation joined the heat stirring in his gut, and his dick, ever ready for an opportunity, stirred to life behind the fly of his khakis. Sweet Mother, would it always be this way with her?
“Sounds good,” he said.
She smiled at him, patient as a hunter tracking game, and finally he took the hint, leaned across the bar, and pressed a soft kiss to her ripe mouth. Her fingers slid across the back of his hand, caressing him in gentle strokes, a reward for his compliance, and the heady taste of her soared through him, filling him with the hard need to draw her close, to take more, and give everything he had in return.
Her hand tightened on his for one brief moment, then she slid away, breaking the kiss, and wove gracefully through the crowd toward the table she shared with George.
Will rocked back on his heels, satisfied to his core. A second date. How in Ki’s name would he make it until then?
An unfamiliar Daughter slipped into the spot Sigrid had vacated, snaring Will’s attention, and he sprang back to work, busying himself as his mind turned over the upcoming date and the varied possibilities it offered.
Chapter Eight
Monday morning, Will parked his truck outside the building housing Robert Upton’s office and jogged inside through the light snow fluttering to the ground. It wouldn’t stick. The weather had been too warm since the new year, more’s the pity. He wouldn’t mind getting snowed in later at Sigrid’s house, even if he wasn’t quite ready for sex.
He grinned, entered the building, and pulled his toboggan off. Well, his body was ready for sex. Hell, he was twenty-eight. A man his age was always ready, willing, and raring to go whenever the slightest possibility of sex cropped up.
His heart, on the other hand, wasn’t quite there, not after her flip-flop, and especially without some assurance on her part that she wouldn’t do it again. Asking a Daughter for constancy was like trying to lasso the wind. Still, he had to try, for his peace of mind if nothing else.
Robert’s door was open when Will walked up. The older man was seated behind his desk, head bowed toward a file. Will knocked on the doorframe and said, “Busy?”
Robert looked up and the concentration on his face eased into a welcoming smile. He flipped the file in his hands closed and wiggled it at Will. “A summary of James Terhune’s DNA results. He’s descended from a Daughter.”
Interest stirred in Will. He closed the door behind himself and dropped into a chair in front of Robert’s desk. “You don’t say.”
“I’ve been doing some preliminary work on his lineage, just for fun, but now it looks like I’ll have to get serious about it.” Robert dropped the folder onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, still smiling. “Which means I’ll either need an extra set of hands on this, or I’ll have to hire somebody.”
“Normally I’d volunteer, but right now I’m swamped. Your wife has given me a very long to-do list.”
A twinkle entered Robert’s eyes as he shook his head. “You’d think she’d be content pressing her honey do list on me and leave you young bucks out of it.”
“I’ve never met a woman who could resist the temptation to order men around, no matter who they are,” Will said wryly, and Robert chuckled.
They segued into a long chat about the confluence of Sigrid and George’s work with Robert’s, and Will ended up lending a hand for a good
hour, brainstorming records and researchers with Robert, fetching files to save the other man’s deteriorating muscles some wear and tear, and learning, always learning. The forgotten paths between parent and child down through the generations had always fascinated him. Who were those people? How had they lived? What were their dreams and thoughts and goals?
Extant records could only go so far. They couldn’t answer the questions he most wanted answers to, but they could serve as guideposts for speculation and possibly aid researchers in their quest to reconstruct an individual’s life.
So much had been lost.
He shook his head as he filed folders away in their respective drawers. The People weren’t the only ones with a shattered history. Thank the Great Lady they now had the resources to piece together their past in some small way.
Later, he grabbed a quick lunch at his apartment, threw on some old workout clothes, and headed to the Rec Department in Tiger, just south of Clayton. He and Ethan snagged a court and indulged in a rough and ready game of basketball, ending just as school kids wandered in for some afterschool time on the court.
They left the kids to it, snagged their gear, and headed out side by side to their cars, parked together under the cloudy February sky. Ethan opened his car’s door and crossed his forearms on its roof. “Ready for your date?”
Will stifled a groan as he opened his truck’s door and threw his duffle full of gear inside. He should never have encouraged his cousin to come out to The Omega on Saturday night. Ethan had taken a great deal of pleasure from heckling Will about his sudden popularity, especially after Will let it slip that Sigrid had invited him to her house for dinner.
“Don’t you have somebody else to bother?” he asked.
“But you’re so easy to tease.” Ethan slapped a hand against the roof. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That leaves a lot of wiggle room,” Will muttered.
