Divided: Brides of the Kindred 10 (26 page)

Chapter
Twenty-five

“I don’t understand what’s going wrong.
That’s the seventh door we’ve projected and they all lead nowhere.”

Truth sounded really frustrated and
honestly, Becca didn’t blame him. The Vashtar avatar had made it sound like
navigating the Mindscape and getting anything they wanted there would be a
piece of cake. In reality, they couldn’t seem to do anything right. Every door
they made was a hodge-podge looking creation that seemed to be made out of
memories all three of them had from their respective home planets.

Some had ornately carved handles liked the
ones Far said he remembered. A few had lovely old glass knobs that looked
exactly like the ones at Becca’s grandmother’s house. One was simply a curtain
made of lengths of light, hollow wood strung together to form strands of long
beads which Truth said was what they used on Pax. (Becca wondered how they ever
got any privacy.) Most doors were an amalgamation of all three styles.

The closest they got to making a door that
didn’t look crazy or mismatched was when they all agreed to imagine one of the
metal, sliding panels which were used aboard the Mother Ship. But their
excitement was short lived because when the panel
whooshed
silently
open, it revealed nothing but more of the formless gray mist.

And that was the main problem—whether the
doors they projected together looked normal or not, none of them led
anywhere
.

“Maybe we’re doing this wrong,” Becca
said. “We just don’t seem to have the hang of it.”

“We have to keep trying,” Far said. “We
can’t expect to be perfect at it right away. The Orthanxians had a whole solar
year to practice before they moved into the Mindscape. We haven’t even been
here a day.”

“I’m not saying we should give up,” Truth
growled, sounding irritable. “We
can’t.
Until we can make a working door
that leads
somewhere,
we are never going to get out of here.”

“He’s right,” Becca said, sighing. “But
could we just give the doors a break for a minute and try something else?”

“Like what?” Far looked concerned. “Do you
want to try for some different clothes,
mi’now?”

“No.” Becca put a hand to her stomach. “I
want to try for some
food.
I guess I shouldn’t be, since we’re
supposedly being nourished by the nutrient slime, but I’m
hungry.”

“I am, also,” Truth said, unexpectedly
agreeing with her.

“I’m hungry as well,” Far said. He settled
back against the headboard of the bed, where they were all still sitting. “All
right, no more doors for now. What should we try to project to eat?”

“Nothing fancy or complicated,” Becca said
quickly. “Something easy that we all like.”

But it proved a lot harder to find
something they all wanted and knew about than she had hoped. Now she wished she
had gone out to dinner with one or both of them before, but that had always
felt too serious somehow. She’d confined her “dates” with the two of them to
walking around the ship or meeting at a friend’s suite. Unfortunately, that
meant she wasn’t very familiar with Twin Moons or Pax cuisine and neither twin
had ever tasted Earth food either.

Far did know a little in theory, however,
from studying her culture. When Becca mentioned pizza, he nodded thoughtfully.

“It that a large round disk covered in red
sauce and sprinkled with the white stuff that melts when it gets hot?”

“Cheese! Yes, exactly,” Becca exclaimed.
“And there are toppings—lots of different toppings.”

Truth made a face. “Stuff that melts when
it gets hot? How does it melt? Like metal or—”

“No, no,” Becca interrupted. “Cheese isn’t
some kind of alloy—it’s a
dairy
product. Look, just believe me—it’s
delicious. If Far and I describe it to you really well, do you think you could
help us project it?”

The dark twin shrugged. “I can try.”

“Good.” Becca rubbed her hands together
eagerly. “Okay, let’s start with the crust…”

She described the perfect pizza from her
favorite pizza place, Eddie and Sam’s in downtown Tampa. Eddie and Sam’s
imported spring water from upstate New York because Eddie claimed it made all
the difference and Becca had to agree. Nowhere else had she ever tasted such
thin, crispy,
perfect
crust. She did her best to describe it, as well as
the tangy tomato sauce and the melted cheese. She was most worried about this
part, but Far seemed to know what she was talking about and Truth promised to
concentrate on the crust which he said sounded easy enough.

“Didn’t you say there are toppings?” Far
asked, before they began to project.

“Well,
yes,”
Becca said doubtfully.
Her mouth watered for an everything pie but she could just imagine what it
would come out looking like. “Mostly savory meats or chopped up vegetables but
you don’t
have
to have them. Maybe we should stick to cheese pizza for
now.”

Truth nodded. “Agreed. Let’s try.”

Closing her eyes, Becca wished for the
perfect pizza. Warm, crispy, crunchy, gooey…
perfect.

When she opened her eyes, there it was,
sitting on a round metal pizza pan on the bed in front of them.

“Look—look it worked! We finally got
something right!” Becca could hardly contain her excitement—or her hunger. Her
stomach was growling to taste some of the delicious looking pizza. It was even
cut into eight equal wedges. There were no plates but she didn’t even care. She
reached for a slice of pizza and took a great big bite…only to spit it back out
into her hand.

“What’s wrong, Becca?” Far asked.

“Does it not taste right?” Truth asked.

“It tastes
horrible,”
Becca said.
“The crust is like cardboard and the cheese is like Elmer’s glue. And the
sauce…” She sniffed the offending piece of pizza carefully. “Why does the sauce
smell like old, rotten fish?”

“Apologies,” Truth said. “When you were
describing the red sauce all flecked with ground up herbs and spices I couldn’t
help thinking that it must look like a mixture of minced fish offal and blood
that we use on Pax while hunting
tharn—
large aquatic creatures that breed
in some of our deeper lakes.”

Becca looked at him in disbelief.

“Minced fish guts and blood…you mean chum?
You put
chum
on my
pizza?”

“Not intentionally!” Truth held up his
hands in a gesture of peace. “But it must have somehow been in my mind as we projected.”

“You were just supposed to think about the
crust,”
Becca pointed out. “You should have left the sauce alone.”

“I
tried
to,” Truth growled. “As I
said, it was not intentional. I cannot help what is in my subconscious—there
are only so many apologies I can offer.”

“The cheese being wrong may have been my
fault,” Far said. “I’m afraid I don’t really know what it tastes like—only what
it looks like.” He shrugged. “I have no idea what happened to the crust.”

“I don’t either—I was really concentrating
on it since it’s my favorite part.” Becca sighed unhappily and put the nasty
pizza on the floor by the side of the bed. “I’m sorry, Truth—I didn’t mean to
shout at you. It’s just…the pizza
looked
so perfect. Biting into it and
finding it was all wrong was kind of a let down.” She ran a hand through her
hair. “If only we could think of something we’ve all eaten so we all know what
it’s supposed to look and taste like…”

“I know of some Earth cuisine we have all
eaten before—the miniature confections made by Becca’s friend, Lauren,” Far
said.

“Oh, perfect—cupcakes!” Becca exclaimed.
“Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve had every single kind she makes but the
chocolate ones are the best.”

“Chocolate?” Truth asked. “Isn’t that the
flavor the Earth females ascribe to that Twin Moons delicacy? What is it
called…?”

“If you mean
grieza
worms, then
yes,” Far said.

Becca shivered. “Ugh,
those
things.
I know they’re supposed to taste really good but I just can’t make myself eat a
worm. Anyway, enough about that.” She put her fingertips to her temples. “Let’s
really concentrate this time. You’ve both had the deep dark devil’s food
chocolate—I know you have because Lauren brought a plate to Kat’s place the
other day and you both ate one.”

“That was before we agreed to work together,”
Truth murmured, casting a sidelong glance at his twin.

“Yes. Before we agreed to bond.” Far
returned the glance with a steady gaze and soon the dark twin looked away.
Becca wondered what was going on between them but she was too hungry to make
them talk it out right now.

“Okay, whatever,” she said. “Does
everybody have the chocolate cupcake in their head? Good, then…
go.”

She thought as hard as she could about a
plate full of Lauren’s sinfully rich deep dark devil’s food chocolate cupcakes.
She’d held back on eating more than one the last time Lauren had brought them
because they went straight to her hips and ass.

But this time I’m going to eat as many as
I want,
she promised herself.
After
all, here in the Mindscape, calories don’t count. So I can have as much as I
feel like.

“Becca?” Far said. “I think we did it.”

Becca opened her eyes and was cautiously
excited to see a plate full of the perfect devil’s food cupcakes sitting on a
round platter on the bed. They looked exactly like Lauren’s perfect little
confections, right down to the thick, precisely swirled loops if icing crowning
each one.

But the proof is in the taste,
Becca told herself.

Reaching down, she snagged a cupcake and
brought it to her face. She inhaled deeply…

“Mmm,
chocolate,”
she almost
moaned.

“Taste it,” Far urged.

“What does it taste like?” Truth asked at
the same time.

Carefully, Becca dipped a finger in the
creamy icing and put it in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she
heard herself make a soft sound of pure delight. It was the way only really
good chocolate or really good sushi affected her.

“It tastes
perfect,”
she whispered
reverently, opening her eyes. “You guys, grab a cupcake. I’m digging in.”

Bringing the cupcake to her lips, she took
a huge bite of creamy frosting, dense, moist, luscious cake…and something that
wriggled in her mouth.

“What the—?” Becca spat the mouthful
hastily into her cupped palm and took a closer look at the cupcake. Something
long and thin and covered in chocolate cake crumbs was poking out of the
center.
Several
somethings, in fact.

Becca screamed and dropped the cupcake on
the bed, where it left chocolate smears on the white mattress.

“What? What is it?” Truth demanded, looking
as though he wished he could draw a weapon and defend her from whatever the
threat was.

“It…it…” Becca shook her head and wiped
her mouth reflexively with the back of her hand. She felt like she was going to
gag. “Worms! There are
worms
in the freaking cupcakes!”

Truth picked up the half eaten cupcake and
frowned at its writhing, wriggling center.
“Grieza
worms. Which one of
us was thinking about those?”

“We
all
were,” Far said quietly.
“We were discussing them before we tried the projection, remember?”

“That was
horrible,”
Becca said,
still fighting the urge to gag. “Worm cupcakes have to be the most nasty-ass
thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Even worse than the chum pizza.”

“I am sorry you are disappointed,” Truth
said. “Perhaps we should try to project something from my home planet this
time. We have a beast on Pax called a
heribo.
It is about the size of
one of your Earth animals—as big as a large dog, I think. It has very savory
cuts of meat, especially on its tail…”

“Stop, right there.” Becca put up a hand.
“If the Mindscape is reading subconscious ideas and images then you’ve just
prejudiced me right off the bat by talking about dog. Now no matter how you
describe this…this
heribo
thingy, it’s going to come out looking like a
dog or tasting like a dog or both.” She shivered. “Not that I know what dog
tastes like but I’m sure my subconscious will come up with something nasty
enough anyway.”

“Becca is right, Brother.” Far had a look
of deep concentration on his face. “We’re never going to be able to make
anything from her planet correctly—or
any
of our home planets for that
matter.”

“Don’t say that,” Becca protested. “We
have to keep trying.”

“We can but we’re doomed to failure,” Far
said seriously. “No, hear me out,” he said, raising a hand when Becca and Truth
started to protest. “We’re going to keep failing because number one:” He held
up one finger. “Tastes are too complicated to ever really fully explain. Trying
to describe the taste of a
simthon
fruit, for instance, is like trying
to describe a sunset to a person without sight—it’s simply too much information
to take in second hand.”