Immortal (8 page)

We startled apart like guilty teens. Caeran slid out of the cape and wrapped it around me, leaving me warm and lonely.

Nathrin stood on the porch of the house, backlit by the amber light, but I had recognized his voice. Caeran spoke in a husky whisper.

“We should go in.”

He started toward the house. I followed, too confused to string a sentence together, angry with Nathrin—what the hell business was it of his?—and deeply, deeply frustrated. I had a fleeting thought of just climbing in the car and heading back to Las Vegas, but my pack was in the house, and anyway I wasn't going anywhere. Not until Caeran and I finished the wordless discussion we'd begun.

Nathrin fell in beside Caeran and muttered something I couldn't distinguish. They went into the house and I followed, kicking the door shut behind me. Nathrin glanced at me, but said nothing as he pulled Caeran into the living room.

Madera was there, standing by the fireplace. I noticed that his black hair was long, almost to his waist. Hadn't realized it before because it was tied back in a ponytail. At a glance he looked native, maybe with some Cherokee blood to account for the height. But the planes of his face were the same as Caeran's. Definitely some DNA in common there.

He looked up at me and smiled slightly. “Thank you for your patience. I have a room where you may spend the night.”

He gestured toward the doorway at the other end of the living room. I glanced at Caeran but he wasn't looking at me. Nathrin was watching, though.

There was nothing for me to do but pick up my pack and follow Madera.

The door opened into a hall that ran west along a wing of the building. The place really was a hacienda, built in a square around the open courtyard in the middle. The hallway had probably been open to the outdoors once, but the side facing the courtyard had been enclosed with a wall of windows. I wondered how old the house was; the adobe was thick and irregular, and the doorways of the rooms didn't all look the same.

A couple of the doors we passed were closed, and guessed Mirali was probably behind one of them. Thought about inquiring after her, then decided not to bug the healer.

“Here you may rest,” he said, gesturing to an open doorway.

I looked into a tiny bedroom, softly lit by a squat lamp on a bedside table. It looked cozy, but lonely.

“Thanks.”

“You had something to eat?”

“Yes. Great stew. Thank you.”1

He nodded, smiling. “Rest well, then.”

“Yeah. Good night.”

I went in the room and closed the door, feeling like I'd been herded. Sat on the bed and noticed I still had Caeran's cape wrapped around me. It was the deep blue of early evening, I saw by the bedside lamp. I buried my nose in the collar and inhaled, reveling in the smell of him.

His cousin, Nathrin, apparently disapproved of me. Madera seemed to want to keep us apart too, or maybe he was just being a proper host, officially giving me my own room but willing, in the spirit of Miss Manners, to ignore nocturnal comings and goings in the hall.

There would be some of that, if I had anything to say about it. I'd have to find Caeran, though, and I should probably wait a bit. He might be talking with his friends.

I collapsed backward onto the bed with a sigh. This whole day had been weird. Too many mysteries, and I was too tired to puzzle them out. Instead I indulged in reliving Caeran's kisses.

I woke up cold, with my bladder insisting on relief. Sat up stiffly and looked around. My room had one door besides the front one, obviously a closet. I dug in my pack for the toothbrush I'd bought, then went out into the hall.

Had we passed a bathroom on the way to my room? I retraced my steps, looking at each door. One stood open to a dark room smaller than my own. I reached in and fumbled for a light switch, then noticed a glint of metal—the weight at the end of an old-fashioned string pull hanging from a ceiling light.

I pulled it, lighting up the welcome sights of a bathroom. Bingo.

A few minutes later, much more comfortable, I returned to my room and dug in my pack for my cell phone to check the time. It was almost eleven, and there was no signal so I turned the phone off so it wouldn't run the battery down trying to roam. I'd forgotten to bring the charger, of course.

I poked around in the pack some more and turned up a couple of condoms I'd picked up at the Student Health Center at the beginning of the semester. Stuffed one in the back pocket of my jeans, and decided to go in search of a glass of water and whatever else I might find.

The living room was dark, though by the time I got there my eyes had adjusted well enough that the faint starlight coming through the windows was enough to keep me from tripping. I went through to the entryway and on to the kitchen, also starlit through windows. Señor Madera didn't seem to believe in curtains, though to be fair there wasn't much need for them out here in the middle of nowhere.

The dish drain was empty. I got out a glass and filled it with water, then walked over to the table where I'd sat with Caeran.

I missed him. It was like an ache, and I knew that probably wasn't healthy, but it was how I felt. Short of going down the hall knocking on doors, though, I didn't know how to find him.

Had he really read my mind?

I shivered, not just from the chill of the night or the cold water I'd drunk. Things Caeran wasn't telling me—things they were all hiding from me—made me worry. It wasn't my imagination; I was sure of that. Too many weird things had happened. Who were these people, anyway?

I sat down and took a long swig of water. I could walk away. Couldn't I?

No. I didn't want to. I closed my eyes.

Caeran. I want you.

I listened, and only then noticed how silent the kitchen was. A tiny hum from the refrigerator, that was it.

Caeran, come and find me. Please.

I felt foolish. Spent a few minutes slowly drinking the rest of my water and realizing Caeran wasn't going to rush to my side.

Finally I got up and refilled my glass. Before going back to my room, I decided to see what else was in this wing of the hacienda. I went to the far end of the kitchen and opened the door on the west wall.

A hallway, its courtyard side a wall of windows, just like the other wing. This looked more utilitarian, though. Fewer ornaments. An open doorway proved to be a laundry room. Other rooms had closed doors. No lights showing anywhere.

I opened the first door and peeked in. A pantry. Lots of pottery jars and baskets. Not a single tin can—it looked like a museum display. Apparently Madera was one of those back-to-nature, do-it-all-yourself dudes, although the electricity had to come from somewhere.

I wandered on down the hall until I reached a door in the glass wall. I opened it, figuring it would be shorter to cross the courtyard to my room than to go back around through the kitchen and living room. It was bitter cold outside and I instantly wished for Caeran's cape, which I'd left in my room.

The courtyard was beautiful, with vines climbing up the pillars between the windows, beds of greenery, and flagstone pathways. Patio furniture sat in the shadows beneath bare-branched trees that would be deliciously shady in summer.

A fountain stood in the courtyard's center—a classic round, three-tiered number, ornamented with Mexican tile—very traditional. The water was flowing, though the temperature had to be below freezing. Maybe Señor Madera had a heater in the fountain. Or maybe it was magic.

I shook my head. Getting too punchy. Sleep would restore my perspective.

I started across the courtyard toward my room, but the door on that side opened before I got to it. For an instant my heart leapt at the thought that Caeran had come to me after all, but it wasn't Caeran. It was Mirali.

She looked pale and drawn, though that could be from the starlight. She leaned out, clinging to the open door with one hand. She wore the clothes she'd had on all day: cotton pants and a woven jacket. Not warm enough for this time of night, up here at seven-thousand-whatever feet.

She frowned at me and said something that sounded like Martian. I had no clue at all what any of it meant.

“Honey, you should get back inside,” I said. “It's too cold out here.”

She talked more gobbledegook. I shifted from foot to foot, starting to shiver.

“Let's go in, OK? I bet Señor Madera wouldn't like it if he found you out here.”

I started toward her, intending to gently guide her indoors. When I got close she shouted something and flung her arm out toward me.

The world went white, and I felt like I'd been slammed by a flying door.

I heard a crash, tinkle. My water glass, I realized as I stumbled backward, blinded. I bumped against a patio table, heard it scrape on the flagstone.

Someone was shouting—a man's voice. I was too busy trying not to fall down to pay attention. Realized I was going to lose the battle, and opted for sitting rather than collapsing. My knees were rubber. I made it to the ground, ungracefully but without major damage.

More shouting, more voices. I wondered vaguely what they were saying. Stars were flying around in front of my eyes. Meteors, I thought, and giggled.

The next instant, warm hands grasped my shoulders and a voice—familiar, comforting—spoke to me. I struggled to pay attention.

“—at me. Look at me, Len.”

I managed to focus on Caeran's eyes. The meteors faded away.

His beautiful face was contorted with worry. “Can you stand up?”

Wanting to reassure him, I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a croak. He hauled me to my feet and let me lean on him.

“Come inside,” he said, coaxing.

Great idea. I was all for it, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Caeran tried to help me walk, but after a couple of wobbly steps he scooped me up in his arms and carried me inside.

Madera closed the courtyard door after us, looking grim. Mirali was nowhere in sight. Nathrin must have taken care of her.

Caeran carried me to my room and gently put me on the bed. He sat next to me, smoothing my hair back from my face.

“I am so sorry, Len. So sorry.”

“No,” I croaked. I really could have used that glass of water.

He leaned closer, speaking softly. “She did not mean to hurt you.”

I heard another voice, Madera's. Couldn't tell what he was saying. Might have been that foreign language. Caeran looked at him, then back at me. He squeezed my shoulder, stood up and walked away. Madera took his place.

The healer laid a hand on my brow and another on my breastbone, very impersonal, though gentle. His hands were incredibly warm—so warm I felt drowsy. Pleasant enough, but I wanted Caeran. I fought to stay awake, but the warmth and the shock I'd taken were too much. I slid under the rising blanket of darkness.

The next time I woke, it was morning. Sunlight slanted in past the partly-open door. I saw cotton-clad legs, someone sitting in a chair by the bed. Looked up hoping for Caeran, and was disappointed to find Madera's blue eyes watching me.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Dunno.”

My throat was parched. I sat up carefully. My head swam a little but settled down after a second. I looked at the nightstand and saw, to my delight, a full glass of water. I gulped it down and gave a sigh of relief.

“Yes, better. Thank you.”

He smiled. “You are welcome. There is bread and fruit in the kitchen if you are hungry.”

“Sounds good.” I eased my feet to the floor and bent down to put on my shoes, which someone must have removed for me. “Don't suppose you have any coffee?”

“No, but I could make tea.”

“Tea's good.”

I needed some caffeine. The format didn't matter so much.

Madera led the way through the courtyard to the kitchen, pausing to hold the door open for me. Sunshine lit up the flagstones and glinted from the fountain. A rosebush I hadn't noticed had two cream-colored blooms on it, even this far north and this late in the fall. There was no sign of broken glass or disarranged furniture.

I followed Madera across to the kitchen, which was warm and smelled like fresh baking. My stomach instantly demanded to sample the product. While Madera filled a kettle, I hacked a slice from a still-warm loaf that was sitting on the table, smeared butter on it, and gobbled it down. It tasted fantastic. I cut another slice, trying a dab of some jam on it this time. Apricot. Heavenly.

Madera must not have spent the whole night watching me. Not if he'd baked bread.

Hah. My brilliant powers of deduction were still in order.

Of course, someone else could have baked the bread.

I glanced at the sink, where Madera was washing some pears. Two small plates in the dish drain. Madera's and Caeran's? Nathrin's and Mirali's?

What had happened last night, anyway? Being the one that got knocked on my ass, I felt like I had a right to know, but instinct kept me from asking Madera. I had a feeling he wasn't going to be forthcoming.