The radio squawked. “Four-One Adam, what is your status, over?”
“Damn, they have to check in,” Seth noted.
“You’ll have to respond,” Lelani answered.
“Great! Impersonating an officer on top of all the other charges.”
“I cannot. There’s no female in this unit,” Lelani said.
“I don’t know cop talk,” Seth argued. “They have their own language.”
“Four-One Adam, please respond.”
“We need to buy a little time,” Lelani said. “Keep it simple.”
Seth picked up the radio and took a deep breath. “This is Four-One Adam. We’re at MacDonnell’s home. Wife has been informed of situation. We’re, uh… hanging tight.”
Lelani pounded a fist on the car and gave Seth a grave look.
“What?!” Seth said. “Sounds like something a cop would say.”
There was a long silence, or maybe it wasn’t very long and just seemed that way.
“Affirmative Four-One Adam. Stay with the family until further notice. Over.”
“See,” Seth said.
“Just shut the car door,” Lelani ordered, as she headed back into the building.
The family was in the living room sitting beside Callum, who rested on the couch. Lelani’s hands were grimy and not suited for what had she had to do next. She found the kitchen sink at the end of a granite island that had been decorated with candles. The wife had been planning some sort of ritual for the evening.
Lelani watched from the kitchen as Catherine MacDonnell cooled her husband’s forehead with a damp washcloth. The fever was a good sign that Cal was burning out the last of Symian’s venom. The wife had insisted upon going to the hospital, but Lelani stressed that Cal would be dead by the time the doctors could develop an antitoxin. Lelani recognized a warrior’s spirit in the woman, evident by her stand against Hesz. She was pleased to see this spirit tempered by wisdom after Catherine agreed to leave Cal’s care in her hands.
The little girl sat near her parents, clutching her stuffed toy, eyes red from crying. A true family, Lelani noted. She regretted her earlier remark about Cal repudiating his American marriage. There would be much pain and hardship for this family in the days to come, decisions about continuing together, or not at all. Lelani had seen many families broken by politics and war. She began to resent her role. It bothered her that this was even an issue. After all, who were these people to her? What did she owe them? The success of this mission would determine her race’s survival-the survival of many kingdoms-and possibly even the very world she found herself in at the moment. It was not her choice whether or not to help Cal recover his identity. And yet, if left alone, if she didn’t recover the captain’s memories, then no one need ever know, and his family here could persist. But could she complete the mission without MacDonnell’s help?
This strange world ran at a hummingbird’s pace. Life here moved on fossil fuels, the stewed and liquefied remnants of a billion, billion dead things. The most basic machines stirred faster than the swiftest beast. Even the peasants made life-altering decisions at the speed of thought. In addition, the world provided few places in which to recharge her arsenal of spells. It was a desert concerning magic. From the moment Lelani had arrived, she had felt overwhelmed.
She had read about this culture in Proust’s records; tomes he’d penned during his decades of travel, yet they lacked many details and were incomplete. Lelani scribbled addenda in the margins of the text. It gave her an odd feeling to do this, not because she improved upon the work of a genius beyond her level, but because to do so implied that she believed this fool’s quest had a chance of succeeding; that there would be a world left to go back to and its scholars would study her observations. There was no one but herself to depend on. Her race did not even exist on this planet anymore. Why did Proust choose her out of a multitude of students? She trusted his wisdom, and it was enough for her that he believed she could do this job. The opportunity, as unlikely as she was to succeed, was priceless. If she did succeed in safely bringing the boy home, however, Duke Athelstan would be indebted to her, and through her, to her people.
She had expected support from Seth-a former schoolmate, united by their shared loyalties and origins. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, he siphoned her energy, tested her spirit, challenged her resolve, and fragmented her focus. His maturity had arrested at thirteen. Lelani was mothering a delinquent adolescent. She was at a loss to explain the memory wipe. Perhaps an attack that affected the entire group?
A tug at her side broke Lelani from her thoughts. It was the girl.
“Can I have a glass of water?” Bree asked.
Lelani looked through the cupboards for a glass.
“Bree, I want you over here by me!” Cat said from the couch.
“But the nice horse-lady is getting me water,” Bree said.
“Bree!”
“Go to your mother,” Lelani said. “I will bring it to you.”
Seth entered the apartment.
“What took you so long?” Lelani inquired. “All I said was shut the car door.”
“Went to get cigs around the corner.”
“We could have used some more peroxide and bandages for these cuts,” Cat said.
“Sorry.”
“Can you put the door downstairs back on its hinges?” Lelani asked.
“Not really. I just stuck it in the frame. I’m not a carpenter.” He took out a Camel.
“No smoking,” Cat said.
“Lady, I’m homeless and penniless because of all this shit, and my nerves are shot to hell. Have some consideration.”
“Language, please. I have a five-year-old here. Smoke outside.”
“There’s fucking gratitude. We save her life and…”
“Seth!” Lelani shouted. “Either finish boarding up the bedroom window, or sit down and shut up.”
Seth grabbed a Budweiser from the fridge, then took a seat in the corner and grumbled that if women were so equal, why were they always asking guys to do hard labor like fix doors or sleep on the wet spot. “Hey, maybe you can cast a spell that fixes doors,” he said twiddling his fingers back and forth at Lelani.
Lelani brought water to the MacDonnells. She picked up the coffee table in front of the couch and moved it to the corner to make more room in the center. Then she placed herself between Cat and Seth.
“Do you have a last name?” Cat asked.
“Stormbringer,” Lelani answered.
“What the hell kind of Norwegian death-metal name is that?” Seth asked. The unlit cigarette rolled along his lips.
“It’s Centauran, and it’s a prestigious name among my clan.”
Seth snorted.
“Please have a seat,” Cat said.
“Thank you. I prefer to stand.”
“The horse-lady can’t sit, Mommy,” Bree said.
“Bree, that’s not nice. I apologize. I don’t know why she calls you that,” Cat said.
Lelani smiled. “Brianna is every bit James MacDonnell’s granddaughter. Where I’m from, the MacDonnells are legendary because of their inherent strong will and a gift for seeing through deception. It’s why they are effective lawmen. Cal, too, could probably discern something odd about me if he were conscious.”
“I don’t need ESP to know that you’re odd,” Seth cut in.
“A child is far more accepting of the incredible than any adult,” Lelani continued. “Their minds are not clouded by preconceived notions. And a MacDonnell child…? Well, I have no doubt Bree can see flaws in my illusion.”
“So, what are you really?” Seth asked. “’Cause I for one would really like to know.”
“I told you… I’m a centaur.”
“A what?” Cat asked.
“A centaur,” Seth snorted. “Half man, half horse. Except,” he added, gesturing toward her breasts with his beer, “you’re a girl.”
“Yes. That would be where baby centaurs come from. The one constant throughout the universe is that males could never handle the pain of childbirth.”
