Eternal (4 page)

I nodded and took a sip of wine. “It was nice—this is good!—nice to just relax.”

“
If you need more to read, I have a small library. Not many current titles, I fear, but you are welcome to look at them.”

“
Thanks.”

I took a bite of the chicken and almost moaned aloud. It was fall-apart tender, with pepper and garlic and a tang of lemon. Heavenly.

Len and Madera chatted about his garden while we ate. He was just now putting out tomatoes and cucumbers, because it froze late into May this far north. I gathered that he had a greenhouse somewhere.

I admired people who grew their own food. I'd tried, but the climate in Portales is pretty unforgiving and only determined gardeners can get stuff to grow there.

“
I'd love to help if there's anything I can do,” I said. “I'm not much of a gardener, but I can pull weeds.”

“
I will take you up on that tomorrow.”

“
Great!”

I meant it. If I made myself useful, maybe I'd get invited back.

Madera was watching Savhoran push rice around his plate. He'd eaten some of the spinach, but the tiny slice of chicken was untouched. He sensed Madera's gaze and looked up, and said something in that flowy language.

“
It's all right,” Madera said softly. “I can heat up some broth if you like.”

Savhoran shook his head and stared unhappily at his food.

It sucks being sick, and it's sad to watch a beautiful creature suffer. I felt sorry for him and wished there was something I could do. Best thing I could think of was not to make an issue of it, so I pretended it wasn't important and finished my own supper.

Savhoran left as soon as we were done. I stayed to help with the dishes, figuring he probably wasn't in the mood for company. Madera didn't have a dishwasher, so Len washed and I dried while our host put away the leftovers.

“
I still think you should get a hot tub,” Len said over her shoulder.

“
It would use too much electricity,” said Madera.

“
Not if you got one of those soft ones. They're really efficient.”

“
I much prefer hot springs.”

“
Yeah, but it's a mile hike to the closest one! And no bathroom, no shower—”

“
Conveniences, but not necessary. Shall we go into the living room?”

Len handed me the last plate to dry. “You're changing the subject.”

“
Yes.” He smiled. “Will you play the guitar?”

She sighed and took the towel from me, drying her hands. “OK, you win.”

Madera's gaze shifted to me. “Unless you don't like music.”

“
Oh, I love it. I just wish I had talent like Len.”

“
We each have our own gifts.”

He led the way into the living room, lit some oil lamps in
nichos
in the wall, then laid a fire in the kiva fireplace in one corner of the room. Len fetched a guitar case from behind a bookcase, took out the guitar and started tuning it. I sat on a
banco
and watched Madera build the fire.

He didn't use any paper, just some smaller sticks as kindling. Must be a traditionalist on fire-building, like he was on other things. He did have electricity and gas or propane for the stove, but he didn't have a lot of appliances, and he seemed to prefer firelight to electrical.

Len started to strum the guitar and I looked at her, trying to recognize the music. A flare of light from the fireplace made me glance back. Whatever Madera had used, it worked a treat. The fire settled into a cheerful crackle.

Len played some folk songs and I chimed in on the chorus of the ones I knew. My voice isn't polished like hers, but I can carry a tune. I even filled in a harmony here and there.

She mixed in some more current songs and some old 70's stuff—James Taylor and some of the Beatles' mellower songs. Gentle music. Relaxing and peaceful.

She was just winding up “You've Got A Friend” when I glanced toward the dining table and saw Savhoran standing there. He must have come in by the far door. I smiled and gestured for him to join us. He hesitated, then came over and sat on the
banco
on the other side of the fireplace.

Len sang a couple more songs, then handed the guitar to Madera. He played some flamenco-sounding music, then to my surprise began to sing in Spanish.

His voice was even more rich singing than speaking. I watched him, entranced, trying to catch the meaning of the words, though I only recognized a few. The song had a lamenting tone, and I found myself glancing at Savhoran.

He was leaning against the fireplace, eyes closed. I couldn't help staring at him. So beautiful, so sad. How could I make him feel better?

He opened his eyes. For a second I felt like he'd heard my thoughts, but he didn't look at me. He stared at the floor, then looked up at Madera, who gave the guitar back to Len and went to join Savhoran on the
banco
.

They talked too quietly for me to hear, maybe in their language. Len played some soft chords, then launched into a Norah Jones song I didn't know the words to. I listened, feeling disappointed and not knowing why.

Madera said something to which Savhoran nodded, then got up and left the room. Len watched Madera go with a raised eyebrow, but kept singing. Savhoran listened to her for a while, then his gaze drifted to me.

Oh, man. When he looked at me I felt like a spotlighted deer—in a good way, if that makes any sense. I wanted to do whatever it would take to make him smile.

He smiled.

Weird. Could he really tell what I was thinking?

Len finished the song, and because I felt embarrassed I applauded. Savhoran did, too.

“
Your music is beautiful,” he said.

“
Oh, thanks,” Len said, flashing a self-conscious smile. “Not my music, actually. I mean I didn't write it.”

“
You play it beautifully.”

“
Thanks.” She looked at me. “What next? I'm out of ideas.”

I said the first thing I could think of. “'Across the Sea.'”

She'd learned to play it when
Lord of the Rings
came out. When we'd met we discovered we both loved the movies, and we sang that song obsessively for about six months our first year at school. It was burned into my brain.

Savhoran listened, watching me as much as he watched Len. I tried to pretend I didn't notice, but I had goosebumps by the end of the song.

Len went on to play her other favorites from the
movies; “May It Be” and a couple of the songs in elvish, which I'd never bothered to learn. Savhoran listened with an amused expression, and applauded politely.

Madera came back with a tray of tea, cups, and a bowl of tiny strawberries. I was yearning for coffee, but this would have to do. Madera must not be a coffee person. I hadn't seen a coffeemaker in the kitchen.

I didn't need coffee this late anyway, I told myself, and thanked Madera for the cup he handed me. The tea was light and flowery. I took a couple of the berries and marveled at their sweetness.

Savhoran ate one strawberry, spent a lot of time chewing it, and washed it down with the rest of his tea. Madera refilled his cup without commenting. I held my cup out too, and ate some more of the berries, pretending I hadn't noticed Savhoran's trouble.

“
How long have you lived here?” I asked Madera.

“
Oh, decades.”

He didn't look old enough for that, but I let it pass. “But you're not from here, right?”

He set down the teapot. “Not originally.”

I turned my cup in my hands, waiting for it to cool a little. “Spain?”

“
I've lived in a number of countries.”

“
Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy.”

“
The truth is, this has been my home long enough that I don't think about the other places.”

Fair enough. I sipped my tea.

It was awkward without the music. I wanted to ask all kinds of questions that were probably rude. I looked at Savhoran, saw him watching me, and gave a nervous smile. He smiled back.

Len's cell phone went off. She stood up, digging it out of her pocket, and glanced at the display.

“
It's Caeran. Excuse me.”

She went out into the entryway. I could hear her voice, muffled, asking questions. Left alone with two gorgeous men, I couldn't think of anything to say. Dammit.

Madera picked up the guitar and strummed it. I relaxed a little; music was an excuse for not talking. I sipped my tea and tried to think of something intelligent to say the next time there was a lull.

Len came back, looking unhappy. Madera stopped playing and turned expectantly to her. She met his gaze and shook her head.

“
It's taking longer than he thought.”

I frowned. Caeran had planned to be here, not in Albuquerque. This was more than just a trip to the warehouse store, I suspected. Was it the other four guys causing the delay?

Now there was something I could talk about. Grasping at straws, I tried to remember any of the Caeran-clones' names. Nathan? Nathrin!

I looked at Madera. “So those other guys—Nathrin and them—you said they're your neighbors?”

He nodded. “They are building a house nearby.”

That only led to more questions I shouldn't ask—were they building on Madera's land? What had they needed so much that they could only get it in Albuquerque, and why it had taken all four of them to go after it?

“
Have you known them long?”

“
Not long at all. I met them last fall.”

I looked at Len. Last fall was when Caeran had first brought her up here. Had he not known Madera, then? But they all looked so alike…

I was thinking too hard. I stood up, leaving my mug on the table.

“
Think I need some air. Please excuse me.”

I went out through the entryway and a glass door into the
portal
around the
plazuela
. It was chilly but I needed to get away and sort out my thoughts.

Savhoran was ill and I shouldn't ask nosy questions about it. I found him attractive. Neither of those things should destroy my world.

Len had secrets, but that was nothing new. Madera was in on them. I was a little jealous of that, but I could live with it.

What was Caeran up to?

It really wasn't any of my business. None of it was. Why did that upset me?

I walked out into the
plazuela
and looked up at the stars. The smell of lilacs surrounded me. The fountain murmured peacefully.

Truth was, I was an outsider. I didn't belong here. Len had a reason to be here, but I was just excess baggage. Madera was being very nice—he was the greatest host—but he probably secretly wished I was back in Albuquerque.

I sat in a lounge chair and stared up at the sky. The moon was up, really bright out here in the country. It washed out a lot of the stars. I picked out the big dipper and was proud of myself.

I heard a door close. Maybe the others had decided to turn in. I stayed where I was.

I didn't know what I wanted, that was the problem. In the grander scheme of things I had no direction.

I'd taken the job at the university library because Len worked there. She was the one who was really into books and history. I liked books, but I liked movies more. Too bad you couldn't get paid to watch movies. Or play poker—I liked that a lot, but it kind of sucked for career potential. I'd kept track of my winnings and losses since I came to Albuquerque, and I was just slightly short of breaking even.

“
Hello.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Looked up at Savhoran standing next to my chair.

“
God, you scared me! Make some noise next time!”

“
I am sorry—should I go?”

“
No! No, it's fine. I was just startled, that's all.”

He pulled a chair closer to mine and sat in it. His face was troubled, but still beautiful.

“
Have the others gone to bed?” I asked.

Savhoran shook his head. “They are discussing a new treatment for me.”

“
Oh. I'm sorry you're not well.”

He looked up at me. “Thank you.”

“
Wish I could help.”

“
You do help. You do not view me as … damaged.”

“
Well, you don't look damaged.”

He laced his fingers between his knees and frowned at them. “My kindred believe that I am.”

“
What do they know?”

He laughed, but the smile faded right away. “I should have healed by now.”

This was really bothering him. I sat up and turned toward him. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but in case he did I was listening.

He lifted his head and met my gaze. “I was injured last fall. I was attacked. The wound has healed, mostly, but … there is some chance of infection.”