Echoes in the Dark (51 page)

“Was
there a ship?” he asked.

“I
didn’t see the ocean.” But it lay before her now, beautiful and endless and
fathomless. A green matching Raine’s eyes. The Ship was majestic, riding on it,
appearing invincible.

“Did
you see yourself? Or me?”

“No.”
Glad of it. “Leave it be. That’s enough.”

He
lifted an eyebrow. “You think you’ll be able to order this vision?”

She
stopped and angled toward him. “Of course not. But I think that they are best
taken in small doses.” She gave him a hard look. “The others are not
despairing, are hopeful.” She managed a smile. “My volaran is named Hope, and
Amee has spoken with me. The future may be wonderful. I
will not
despair.”

Lifting
her chin, she said, “I will follow my destiny, fulfill my task, and do what I
must, which is lead the others in the City Destroyer ritual. I will
not
let them down.”

The
chances of all living were low, she knew that now, but some would survive. Even
Calli wouldn’t live if Jikata didn’t Sing her part.

Luthan
sighed. “I’ve been keeping a running percentage for everyone.”

She
looked at him. “Sixty-five percent?”

“Ayes.
I can’t…haven’t been able to see myself.”

“I’ll
let you know.” The rotting smell of dying seaweed rose around them, turning the
air bitter.

“Please
do,” he said politely.

Her
stride turned into a march. Sixty-five percent. The words drummed in her head,
in a throbbing beat that matched her heart. She hadn’t been working hard
enough. That must change.

She
must also work the others hard.

Because
they
would
win, and more would live. She was determined.

In
her mind, tendrils of a song unfurled like a banner, like the sails of the Ship
ahead. A battle Song. It would need marching steps, and volaran wing beats, and
a roc’s cry….

She
flung back her head and let her emotions pour out in Song. Turned to her lover
for support and to give support.

T
he Song battered
Luthan’s ears, screeched, whipping away all the music of his life.

Alien.

It
was alien and mutant.

The
woman turned to him, screeching those hideous notes, smiling a hideous smile.
She held out hands to him that speared him with noise.

She
was mutant and
alien.

He
flinched and stepped away, shuddered.

37

V
aguely he knew
what was happening. The innate repulsion reflex. Something he hadn’t
experienced with Jikata. It was as if her Song,
her
innate music, and
speaking of their shared gifts, had finally yanked away the veil that had
always been between them.

She
was not Lladranan. Not of Amee. Too different.

The
sound of her was driving him mad. She wasn’t screeching anymore, but her
personal Song was nothing but clashing chords grating on his ears and nerves.
He slapped his hands over his ears, gritted his teeth, let the sting of painful
tears coat his vision.

Her
face changed into a grotesque frown and she stepped toward him, still holding
out fingers pummeling him with noise drowning out the universe.

He
could not touch her. Could. Not.

Her
mind showed unnatural images of huge metallic shapes that hurt his head. Tall
buildings that should not be. Sticks of trees surrounded by black tarry
substances. Cities with no green.

There
was the frenzied roar of thousands of voices, the woman standing in a harsh
pulsing red ray of light with shoulders, arms and legs bare, wearing a tiny
black dress.

He
hurt. Why did she punish him this way? She was coming closer, closer, and he
couldn’t bear it. Not Lladranan. Not Amian. Alien. Alien sound, images,
visions.

One
blow would knock her back, keep her away from him, silence the unholy noise.

Ttho!
The word
pounded into his brain like a spike, giving surcease for a split second, enough
time for him to remember that he must endure. Must not act. This was
his
problem, not hers. Nothing of his reaction had to do with her.

He
only needed to wait these horrible minutes out. Then all would return to
normal.

There
was nothing normal about his life. Never had been.

“Luthan?”
Her voice cackled his name, he couldn’t bear the sound of it on her lips. He
fisted his hands, stepped back instead of stepping forward to kill the alien
who tormented him so, shrieking in his brain, rasping his nerves.

“Go,”
he managed to say as gutturally as she. “Run. Fast.”

“What?”
A scream now, scraping him raw.

“Go!”
Even as he said
it, something wrenched inside him, as if tearing. He cried out, thought he
heard a shriller echo of his scream.

Then
volarans were there with sweet scent and beauty beyond compare and Songs to
soothe him and block out her cacophony. Lightning, beloved Lightning, pushed
between them, shielded Luthan from her. He wrapped his arms around Lightning’s
neck, buried his face in his mane.

His
ears popped, his eyes leaked tears, and suddenly there was the sound of surf.
Lladranan sounds enveloped him, Songs wrapped around him.

The
world steadied. Luthan breathed in volaran and Song and air and sunlight and a
lovely day on the beach.

And
the wonderful scent of his lover.

He
lifted his head to look at her, but she had a hand pressed over her heart, was
panting and backing away from him. Her face a mask he’d seen her wear too
often, eyes dark with pain.

He
found his voice again, rough, but his. “Jikata.” He lilted it with the pleasure
of a man on seeing his woman.

It
wasn’t enough, he saw that, heard it in their Songs, which were out of tune,
the bond between them torn.

She
shook her head, mounted Hope and they flew away.

Probably
best. He was still coated with the cold sweat of the experience, his revulsion
of her. His muscles still shook from the constraint he’d bound them with. It
was over.

The
veil between them was gone forever, and even now he could hear her faint Song,
thought it mixed with his in his blood and bone. Her fragrance lingered in the
air, reminding him of her taste of sweet, heavy cream. He leaned heavily on
Lightning, wiping his forehead against the volaran’s soft feathered hide.

The
revulsion reflex was finally over. Luthan only hoped his relationship with
Jikata wasn’t, too.

H
e’d looked at
her with disgust. Had rejected her. Jikata had seen he was in distress,
suffering and tried to help. His hands had fisted, face contorted as if he were
keeping himself from striking her.

She’d
never had a man hit her and the thought of it—that it would be a lover she’d
let so close, had stupidly believed she’d bonded with emotionally—shocked her.

Then
had come a ripping pain inside her, from her heart, her mind…her soul? As if
they’d bonded deeply and the bond had torn. That hurt her, too, scared her. So
she decided to take a step back—to get over her hurt and see where they were
when everything settled.

She
concentrated on her task. That afternoon she informed the other Exotiques of
their practice schedule of three hours a day. Alexa and Bri protested but she
quashed that with the simple statement that this was now their most important
priority and held up her hand. End of discussion.

The
others had tilted their heads as if listening to her Song, then agreed. They’d
even had a first session and had done well enough.

She
began noting down her new battle Song, ready to refine it. Chasonette warbled
it with her.

That
night Jikata finished Marian’s book and began Calli’s, the smallest, read until
her vision dimmed, then set it aside. Luthan and she had shared a room last
night, but she’d requested a change of rooms. Instead, his squire showed up and
transferred his things to somewhere else.

She
was sure gossip had spread since she returned from the beach alone and upset,
but no one said a word to her about it. A blessing.

Oddly,
she felt soothing strokes from the other Exotiques along their connections as
if their Songs aligned with hers to comfort. As Luthan’s Song had once been in
tune with hers, and was now missing, as if he, too, had stepped back.

She
dreamt that night, of the Dark gurgling, chuckling, whistling in its Nest, all
horrible noises, nothing melodic about them, and it turned its black leech head
and its nasty mouth formed the words,
I will eat you.
It began sliming
its way to her as she was rooted in place, petrified.

The
mountain had exploded, all her friends had died, and still the Dark surged
forward to cover her and absorb her.

F
or the next
couple of days, Jikata avoided Luthan. That wasn’t hard, since he was avoiding
her, too. She’d figured out there had always been a thin curtain between
them—something she hadn’t even sensed—and it had been swept aside.

She
knew what had happened. He was one of those who had an innate repulsive
reaction to Exotiques. She’d read about it, but since he’d never acted differently,
it hadn’t truly sunk in. But she didn’t know why it had happened
then.
Delicate questioning of the other Earth women had revealed that Luthan had
shuddered at everyone else when they’d first met. Was it the commonality of
their gift that had masked her nature? Or the fact that she had Japanese blood
and looks?

She
didn’t know.

But
she had work to do, and she worked herself and the others ruthlessly. Since a
later vision had shown Alexa living, Jikata believed she was on the right
course.

Her
nights were filled with bad dreams that she examined, then dismissed.

The
other women hadn’t said anything about Luthan’s absence, and Jikata’s and
Luthan’s mutual avoidance had had one excellent benefit—she’d completely
connected with them.

Like
Bri said, it was as if Jikata was the last piece of the puzzle that clicked
them all together. They all fit. She appreciated all of them. She could hear
their various Songs, how the Songs wove together in a fabulous, ever changing,
ever wondrous harmonious whole. She enjoyed being with them, and the more of
them together, the happier she became at the loveliness of their combined Song.

But
there was an emptiness in her where Luthan had been. She missed him, but wasn’t
quite sure what their relationship should be.

Today
the women had lingered in the manor’s third-floor common room after breakfast.
They, and their men, were all housed on that floor. Corbeau’s wife had made it
politely clear that eating up here was a courtesy for the rest of the
household. Staying out of their way. As a group the Exotiques weren’t very
demanding, but Jikata sensed they were exhausting or incomprehensible to many.

“Since
Raine is going with us on the invasion, she should have dreeth leather
clothing,” Marian said.

Raine
paled, gulped, set her shoulders and nodded.

Some
bit of knowledge tugged on Jikata’s brain.

Then
they all looked at her. She straightened against the back of the loveseat she
shared with Bri, not understanding their frowns.

“It’s
the strongest, most protective substance a person can wear into battle.”
Marian’s gaze was piercing.

Calli
coughed slightly, Alexa glanced away, rubbed her temples.

“And?”
asked Jikata.

Marian
sat in a chair angled close. She flicked her fingers and a big book appeared on
her lap, its pages riffled until it settled open, facing Jikata, with a hideous
picture of a winged dinosaur-like creature, nasty teeth bared, spurs on the
legs, spines. Terrible. Jikata recalled the dreeth quite well. Her ominous
feeling increased. “So?” She made her voice casual.

Alexa
looked back to her with an intensity Jikata hadn’t experienced before from the
woman, as if she examined Jikata for warrior-woman qualities. Jikata kept her
gaze steady. Alexa nodded, their glances locked. “The only way a person can
wear dreeth leather is if they help kill a dreeth.”

The
words slithered through Jikata’s mind. She’d known that, forgotten. Like
Luthan’s repulsion factor. She couldn’t speak. Alexa looked away, a false smile
on her face.

Marian
tapped the book’s page and the dreeth turned into holographic, awful reality,
rotated in three dimensions, hissing, long neck snaking, beak snapping, raising
its wings. It was as big as the Circlet Tower it attacked.

Damn.

“Raine
and Jikata should probably have fire-breathing dreeth skin. We
are
going
to—into—a volcano, even if it’s inactive.” Marian glanced sideways at Jikata.
“The fire-breathing ones are a little smaller,” she added in a reasonable tone.
She turned the page and the new 3D dreeth, half the size of the tower, spit
flame.