“Very well. Now that we are in agreeance . . . ”
“Lila . . . ?”
I felt Eileen’s arm tighten around mine as I reluctantly looked at Adam. His expression tore at my soul, and I despised myself for the guilt and confusion in his eyes. Our angels swirled between us again—always—and I lowered my gaze in shame of their sparkling white maelstrom.
No longer passive and benign, they were fierce in their brilliance. Pulling at the very essence of who I was, they sought to draw me to their center with a relentless current. They promised to deluge me in peace and thrash me with a life I was too weak to create for my own. And I wanted to let them.
Go away.
Rules and Regulations
He felt a sadness that he had not anticipated—even though it would be easier to work with her now. She would be more malleable, more receptive, and perhaps might even welcome the comfort he would willingly offer. Comfort that would build the trust he needed. For now, though, he felt conflicted. She was really quite adept at self-castigation.
He regretted no longer being able to see her fractals. Were her alternates stoic as well? Or did they act on the truth that she suppressed?
And if her daughter could generate fractals . . . ?
The way Eileen’s eyes were locked onto him, there was no doubt that she would be happily energizing various creative attacks against the awful alien interloper. He grinned at her, and she glared back. Such a precocious child. It would be very enjoyable to—
“Sal.”
His eyes flicked back to find Lila watching him.
“We need to establish some rules,” she said.
He admired her attempt at authority. She did not trust him, but she did not fear him either. And judging by the war of misery and hatred on the adam’s face, he was not wasting emotion on fear either. No need to wonder what his fractals were doing.
“Of course. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
She tensed, indicating that was the wrong thing to say. Too patronizing?
“I respect that all of this is . . . unacceptable to you, and I am truly sorry for our . . . involvement. But I hope that, in time, you can . . . ” he struggled to find the right balance of sincerity and kindness that wouldn’t sound false coming from his mouth. “That each of you might possibly trust me enough to . . . ” They were watching him in wary stillness, and he gave up. “What guidelines would you like to establish?”
She inhaled slowly and he detected an arrhythmia in her heartbeat.
“Eileen is off limits.”
“How do you mean?”
Anger, horror, and disgust roiled across their features, and his hands raised in protest.
“No! You misunderstand,” The recent meal of sugary bread and acid surged into his throat and he swallowed hard. “I would only like to teach her.”
Three pairs of eyes weighed him—and found him lacking. His body heated rapidly, and he was too upset to control himself.
“You must not think! I would never! None of us would!” How could they believe such a thing? “Genetic sampling is done, but that is not . . . it does not . . . ” he could not even make himself say the words.
“I believe you.” Eileen’s sigh sounded just like her mother’s. “They aren’t creepy like that, Mom. They . . . ” she frowned at him. “They think children are . . . ”
“Gifts.” His eyes stung a bit, and he blinked to encourage his modulators to abate the chemical reaction. Gifts we do not deserve.
Lila was still studying him carefully, and he was reminded of how fine a line there was between being useful, and being wanted.
“You will protect her.”
“Yes.”
“Even against your family?”
“They would never hurt her.”
“While she is a child.”
He started to protest, but a fresh flush of heat prevented him from lying. “She will always be a child to me.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“Then you will stay with us.”
Her eyes were muted with purplish shadows, and her heart was struggling to keep its rhythm, but her body was straight. Strong. For now.
“I will stay as long as you wish.”
The adam was standing farther to one side now, watching her with an unidentifiable mix of expressions. Truly, it was a relief not to see his fractals, at least.
“Your family can be returned to you this evening. There is a small storm system forming twelve miles offshore. With the seasonal currents, there should be enough energy generated for our needs. Do you have a motorized boat?”
“You want a baby to ride in a boat? In a storm?!”
“You can’t—”
“Mom. Let him explain.”
“Do you want to explain for me?” he surprised himself by winking at her. Like an actor would! He really had watched too much television the past sixty years.
She rolled her eyes but responded willingly. “Well . . . if you need the storm to give you energy, then bringing Cara and the baby back must use up that energy.”
“Correct. Once Servants initiate Transition, the turbulent conditions will subside. It will be a smooth, moonlit journey back to shore.” He ventured a smile for Lila. “Traveler will most likely enjoy it.”
She did not return his smile. Instead, as the man and child peppered him with absurd apprehensions—really, water craft had been in use for millennia!—she fixed him in an unwavering gaze.
What was it now? Had he not earned her trust about children at least?
Her appearance was starting to worry him. She had paled to the point of blueish veins and white clay skin, and the tempo of her staccato heartbeats had increased. Had she wanted more time before the woman and child were returned? He had thought she was desperate to have the situation resolved as quickly as possible . . . ? Her body was stationary, but leaning forward slightly as if reaching out, imploring him to—to do what? What was she trying to communicate?
Adam interrupted his concentration with a complaint about the challenges of nighttime navigation; and irritated, he held up a hand to silence the man.
“I will guide you! There is no need for concern!”
At his last words, her lips parted with a soft pop, and he
