Marguerite nodded. “What else?”
“Shared sexual dreams if they sleep within a certain distance,” she said now.
“And?”
“Experiencing each other’s pleasure when indulging in sexual relations,” she said a bit stiffly. “And then usually faintingor passing out at the end of a coupling. Although I’ve heard of cases where that doesn’t happen.”
Marguerite made a humming sound and nodded, but then waited expectantly.
Ildaria went through what she’d already said to see what she’d missed, and then added, “The inability to read or control thelife mate.”
They both fell silent briefly, and then Marguerite said gently, “There’s one more symptom, dear.”
Ildaria started to shake her head, but then blinked. “Oh, si. Both life mates’ thoughts are easily read for the first yearor two after finding their life mate, no matter their age.”
“Actually, it isn’t so much that they are easily read as the immortal’s ability to keep their thoughts private is usuallyhampered after finding a life mate. It’s almost as if they’re screaming their thoughts. Other immortals can’t help but hearthem,” Marguerite corrected gently and then added, “Like you are presently doing.”
Ildaria stared at her blankly. “You think I’ve met my . . .”
When she fell silent, unable to finish the thought, Marguerite smiled faintly and lifted her cup before commenting, “G.G. is very handsome, is he not?”
Ildaria’s eyes widened as she watched Marguerite sip her tea. “G.G.?”
Marguerite raised her eyebrows. “You do not find him handsome?”
“I—” Ildaria hesitated, images of the man rising up in her mind. Looking serious, looking amused, cuddling H.D. . . . Yes,she’d thought him attractive. Adorable even. Especially with the little fur ball in his arms. Dogs and babies always mademen more attractive.
“I think you should try to read him tomorrow, dear,” Marguerite said softly. “I suspect you will not be able to.”
Ildaria started to nod, but then stopped and asked with alarm, “What do I do if I can’t?”
“Ah.” Marguerite frowned and set her cup down. She stared down at it briefly and then sat back with a sigh. “If you cannot,then I suggest you walk softly. G.G. . . .” She paused to grimace, and then said, “G.G.’s parents were both mortal. His fatherdied in a car accident when he was just a toddler of three. Things were tough for him and his mother for the next two yearsand then she met Robert Guiscard. They were life mates, and he of course, turned her. Unfortunately, G.G. witnessed his mother’sturn.”
“Oh, no,” Ildaria breathed. Going through the turn was not a pleasant experience. She remembered very little of her own. Most people didn’t recall it afterward. But she’d witnessed others during the throes of theirs and it was a terrible, agonizing experience to watch. If the one being turned was tied down, chained down, or otherwise restrained, they screamed, shrieked, and thrashed, trying to break free. During two of the ones she’d witnessed, the turnees had thrashed so wildly they’d broken bones in their wrists, arms, ankles, and legs, just elongating the experience. But if they weren’t restrained, they had been known to try to rip their own skin off or claw their eyes out in a desperate bid to end the agony.
Watching his mother go through that would have been more than traumatizing for a five-year-old child, Ildaria thought andshook her head with dismay. “How could they let him see that?”
“He was not supposed to. His mother, Mary, had asked her neighbor, who was also apparently a friend, to take him for the night.But Mary’s turning took longer than a night. Sometimes, it does,” she added gravely. “But Robert apparently did not realizethat, or had not made it clear to Mary. She apparently told the neighbor that she would collect G.G. the next day. I gatherher friend thought she meant in the morning, so when she hadn’t shown up by noon, the neighbor brought G.G. home, and heardthe muffled screaming coming from inside. Unfortunately, she was a good enough friend that she had a key, and she opened thedoor, in a panic to help her friend. She told G.G. to wait by the door, but he followed her upstairs, arriving at the mostinopportune time possible. Mary had just snapped the ropes Robert had used to bind her and was clawing her stomach open ina desperate attempt to end the pain.”
“Oh, God,” Ildaria breathed with horror.
Marguerite nodded. “Unfortunately, Robert was so distracted between attempting to restrain Mary again and trying to control the hysterical neighbor, that he was completely unaware of G.G.’s presence.” She sighed unhappily, and then said, “G.G. told me this some time ago. He said he wanted to run to his mother to comfort her, but she didn’t look like herself. Her face seemed to be boiling.”
Ildaria grimaced. She’d seen that on a turn a time or two. Usually on mortals who had acne or some other sort of scarringon their face. What young G.G. had thought was her face boiling, was the bioengineered nanos that made immortals what theywere, working on removing the scarring and returning the skin to the perfect, unblemished complexion they’d been born with.It was their job. They’d been programmed with blueprints of both a mortal female and a mortal male at their peak condition,and their one directive was to return their host to that peak condition.
“Yes, but G.G. did not know that,” Marguerite said on a sigh, obviously catching her thoughts. “So he ran before he was noticed,not stopping until he was outside. I gather the neighbor found him in the front garden, simply standing, staring at nothingwhen Robert sent her below with her memory erased and the thought that she’d talked to Mary and had agreed to keep G.G. anotherday.”
Ildaria frowned. “Well, surely, once he was returned they read his mind, realized what had happened and erased . . .” Ildariafell silent. If they’d erased the memory, he couldn’t have told Marguerite about it.
“No. They did not realize. When Mary approached G.G. in the garden, he jerked as if just waking up, and then raced away when she tried to grab his hand to take him home. He ran right
