so. I really do.'
She kissed him again, then was out the door and on her way down the stairs.
Jack closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it. If he weren't so exhausted from lack of sleep and from the strenuous demands Kolabati had made upon him tonight, he would have tried to make some sense out of the evening's events.
He headed for bed. This time to sleep.
But chase it as he might, sleep eluded him. The memory of the odor, Kolabati's bizarre behavior...he couldn't explain them. But it wasn't what had happened tonight that bothered him so much as the gnawing uneasy feeling that something awful had
8
Kusum started out of his sleep, instantly alert. A sound had awakened him. His
It was most likely the Mother and the young one returning, but it wouldn't hurt to be sure. One never knew what kind of scum might be lurking about the docks. He didn't care who came aboard in his absence—it would have to be a fairly determined thief or vandal because Kusum always kept the gangway raised. A silent beeper was needed to bring it down. But an industrious low-caste type who climbed one of the ropes and sneaked aboard would find little of value in the superstructure. And should he venture below decks to the cargo hold...one less untouchable prowling the streets.
But when Kusum was aboard—and he expected to be spending more time here than he wished now that Kolabati was in town—he liked to be careful. He didn't want any unpleasant surprises.
Kolabati's arrival had been a surprise. He had thought her safely away in Washington. She had already caused him an enormous amount of trouble this week and would undoubtedly cause him more. She knew him too well. He would have to avoid her whenever possible. And she must never learn of this ship or its cargo.
He heard the sound again and saw two dark forms of unmistakable configuration lope along the deck. They should have been burdened with their prey, but they were not. Alarmed, Kusum ran down to the deck. He checked to make sure he was wearing the necklace, then stood in a corner and watched the rakoshi as they passed.
The youngling came first, prodded along by the Mother behind it. Both appeared agitated. If only they could talk! He had been able to teach the younglings a few words, but that was mere mimicry, not speech. He had never felt so much the need to communicate with the rakoshi as he did tonight. Yet he knew that was impossible. They were not stupid; they could learn simple tasks and follow simple commands—had he not been training them to act as crew for the ship?—but their minds did not operate on a level that permitted intelligent communication.
What had happened tonight? The Mother had never failed him before. When she caught the Scent, she invariably brought back the targeted victim. Yet tonight she had failed.
Could there have been a mistake? Perhaps the chocolates hadn't arrived. But how then had the Mother caught the Scent? No one but Kusum controlled the source of the Scent.
None of this made sense.
He padded down the steps that led belowdecks. The two rakoshi were waiting there, the Mother subdued by the knowledge that she had failed, the youngling restless, pacing about. Kusum slipped past them. The Mother raised her head, dimly aware of his presence, but the youngling only hissed and continued its pacing, oblivious to him.
Kusum spun the wheel on the hatch and pulled it open. The youngling tried to retreat. It didn't like being on the iron ship and rebelled at returning to the hold. Kusum watched patiently. They all did this after their first run through the city. They wanted to be out in the air, away from the iron hold that weakened them, out among the crowds where they could pick and choose among the fattened human cattle.
The Mother would have none of it. She gave the youngling a brutal shove that sent it stumbling into the arms of its siblings waiting inside. Then she followed.
Kusum slammed the hatch closed, secured it, then pounded his fist against its damp surface. Would he never be done with this? He had thought he would be closer to fulfilling the vow tonight. Something had gone wrong. It worried him almost as much as it angered him. Had a new variable been added, or were the rakoshi to blame?
Why was there no victim?
One thing was certain, however: There would have to be punishment. That was the way it always had been. That was the way it would be tonight.
9
Oh, Kusum! What have you done?
Kolabati's insides writhed in terror as she sat huddled in the rear of the cab. The ride was mercifully brief— directly across Central Park to a stately building of white stone on Fifth Avenue.
The night doorman didn't know Kolabati so he stopped her. He was old, his face a mass of wrinkles. Kolabati detested old people. She found the thought of growing old disgusting. The doorman questioned her until she showed him her key and her Maryland driver license, confirming her last name to be the same as Kusum's. She hurried through the marble lobby, past the modern low-backed couch and chairs and the uninspired abstract paintings on the walls, to the elevator. It stood open, waiting. She pressed 9, the top floor, and stood impatiently until the door closed and the car started up.
Kolabati slumped against the rear wall and closed her eyes.
That odor! She’d thought her heart would stop when she recognized it tonight. She thought she’d left it behind forever in India.
One had been outside Jack's apartment less than an hour ago. Her mind balked at the thought, yet there was no doubt. As sure as the night was dark, as sure as the number of her years—a rakosh! The knowledge nauseated her, made her weak inside and out. And the most terrifying part of it all: The only man who could be responsible— the only man in the world—was her brother.
But why Jack's apartment?
And how? By the Black Goddess,
