The Mutant Prime (20 page)

“And she’s refused.” Why was he being so obtuse? “You know she rejected the entire project. Victor, she wants to leave. Let her go.” Her tone softened. “Please?”

Ashman’s smile lit up his wan features. “That’s better. You’re learning, Tavia.” He picked up another pillow made of black and red kilim rug fragments and tossed it casually from hand to hand.

Wearily, Tavia sank down by his feet. He was becoming a stranger. She didn’t know how to deal with him anymore. Gently, she touched the hem of his tunic.

“Victor, are you in love with Narlydda?”

The kilim pillow landed on the floor with a thud.

“In love?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Love? I’ve never loved anybody.” He stopped laughing and fixed Tavia with a pure, silvery gaze that seemed to go right through her. “I don’t know what love is. But I feel something powerful and compelling, for Narlydda. We’re fellow travelers. I’ve been alone for my whole life. And so, I think, has she. She’s the only one who could understand me. I won’t lose that. Not now.”

“Victor.” Tavia choked on his name. He was beyond her control. A tear slid down her cheek, then another. She sobbed helplessly, defeated.

Ashman patted her hand. “There, there, Tavia. Don’t feel sad. I owe you so much. You’ve taken me in, protected me. You know I won’t forget that. We’ll always be special friends. So stop worrying. I know what I’m doing.” He gazed at her affectionately. “Now go to sleep.” He began to hum a lullaby.

The tune pulled Tavia away from sorrow, away from her objections. He still liked her. She would always be his special friend. She sank happily into the warm comfort of slumber, her head pillowed against Ashman’s knee.

Kelly stripped off her uniform and stepped into the sonic shower. It was seven-thirty. There was no message from Michael but she assumed she’d meet him for dinner at his room. For a moment she hesitated. Wear a uniform? On a night like this? No.

Smiling, she selected a midnight blue deep-cut tunic and high-heeled boots. Crylight jewelry for her hair, and one earlobe. She nodded, pleased, at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like a young girl going off on her first date. But the face that gazed back at her was that of a woman going to meet her lover.

The desert twilight lasted long, even in winter. Humming to herself, she walked through the violet dusk. In five minutes, she stood outside Michael’s room, pressing the palmpad for admittance. The person who answered the door was mutant, but female. A familiar, detested face. Jena.

“So, I
was
right,” she said. “Come in, Kelly.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I said, come in!”

Kelly found herself being compelled to cross into the room. The door slid shut behind her. “You realize that you are in violation of the Freedom Act,” Kelly said. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“You wouldn’t dare. And who would believe you? Just two childhood friends having a reunion chat.” Jena’s eyes glittered in the dimness of the room. There was joysmoke everywhere. “So tell me, Kelly. Woman to woman. What do you think of Michael now?”

Kelly wanted desperately to reach out and slap that beautiful, feline face. But she was outgunned. She knew that Jena was a powerful mutant and potentially dangerous to a non-mutant. Best to do nothing. Play along. Dammit, Michael, where are you?

“Yes, where is he?” Jena said. Malice showed in her smile. “I couldn’t help but catch that last thought. He left here this morning saying something about his father. Of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Kelly kept her voice level. “He received a message about his father being hurt. From someplace called Dream Haven.”

“Dream Haven?” Jena was on her feet now. “Gods, it must be serious. I should have known.” She reached for her purse.

“What’s Dream Haven?” Kelly asked.

“A mutant place,” Jena said. “And none of your nonmutant business.” She moved briskly past her.

The door closed, and Kelly was alone. She sagged wearily into a chair. Why had Michael left without a word? What was Jena doing here? And what in hell was Dream Haven?

Why had she ever allowed herself to get involved with Michael Ryton again? All he’d ever brought her was trouble and confusion.

For a moment Kelly was tempted to get gloriously, riotously, thoroughly drunk. To forget last night, mutants, and everything that had happened fifteen years ago. But she couldn’t shake the memory of Michael’s arms around her. The look in his eyes as he told her he loved her. She had believed him fifteen years ago. And she believed him now.

She turned toward the wallscreen and punched in Heyran Landon’s private code.

The screen rang once. Twice.

Please be in, she prayed.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Kelly?”

She took a deep breath. “I need to know about Dream Haven. What it is. Where it is.”

“Why? Where did you hear about it?”

“From Michael Ryton. I mean, from his wife.”

“His wife?” Landon’s eyebrows shot upward. “I thought you wanted to avoid this Ryton.”

“That was yesterday.”

“Maybe you’d better meet me at the Officer’s Other,” Landon said.

“I don’t know …”

“Well, I do.” Landon’s golden eyes held curiosity and amusement. “I want a full report in fifteen minutes. And that, my dear Kelly, is an order.”

The front doors were locked. The side doors were locked. Every blue-green acrylic door in Emory Foundation was locked. And Melanie believed that they’d tried them all. Wearily, she sat upon a pile of orange cushions in Yosh’s studio, rubbing her feet.

“At least the screens still work,” she said. “I managed to get a message back to Cable News. Maybe I’ll keep my job.”

Yosh was noodling with a keyboard in his studio, hardly listening. He looked worried.

“Maybe you should try Tavia again.”

“I don’t think she’ll answer. And I can’t get into the wing where her private rooms are.”

“You think something’s wrong?”

Yosh ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m trying not to get paranoid. But why isn’t maintenance working on the door hydraulics? Where is everybody? The place seems deserted. Usually it’s buzzing away. I’ll bet Ashman could answer a couple of these questions, but I sure don’t feel like talking to him about it.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I.” She shivered briefly, remembering the so-called supermutant’s eerie gaze. He was a fake. He had to be.

The crystal clock atop Yosh’s roommech chimed seven times. Yosh put his keyboard down and stretched lazily.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’m no sushi chef, but I can whip up a tolerable soya casserole.”

“You mean you’re willing to feed a mutant?” Melanie’s flippant tone covered her nervousness. Yosh had been shocked when Ashman unmasked her. She had to know how he felt now.

Yosh turned to face her. He was unsmiling. For a long moment he gazed into her eyes. “I’ll admit it,” he said. “I was amazed when Ashman pulled out your contact lenses. I’ve really had enough mutants to last a lifetime. Or so I thought.” He smiled. Touched her cheek briefly. “Melanie, why don’t you leave those things off? I’d rather see you as you really are.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

Feeling shy, Melanie turned away, removed the lenses, and popped them into a lenspak in her pocket. How odd after all these years to be showing the mark of her mutancy. And to this man. At his request.

“There.” She curtsied. “Just don’t ask me to do any heavy lifting with the blink of an eye. I meant what I said about being a null.”

“I don’t require party tricks,” Yosh said. “In fact, it’s kind of a relief that you can’t do any of them. But how are you with a wine cork?” He rummaged in a cabinet for a moment, then stepped back to reveal a bottle of chardonnay. “I can never open them properly.”

“Don’t you have a mech? Give me that.” Melanie reached for the bottle and old-fashioned corkscrew. With practiced skill, she drove it into the cork, yanked the levers down, and pried the seal open. “There.”

“The glasses are in the side cabinet. Give me five minutes, and we’ll have something decent to eat.”

As she poured the foaming, yellow-green wine into the delicate glasses, Melanie wondered why she felt so comfortable with this man. She barely knew him. But somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. Well, it had been a strange day, and there was no sign of it getting any less strange now.

True to his word, Yosh whipped up a tomato and tofu loaf that had her asking for third portions. When they finished the chardonnay, he found a bottle of champagne, managed to open it himself, and filled her glass with the sparkling wine. And still holding the bottle, he leaned down and kissed her. Put the bottle down. Kissed her again.

It’s about time, she thought.

Still kissing, they sank down among the pillows, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. He pulled playfully at the neckline of her tunic, and she allowed him to loosen it so that he could move his hands underneath. A little later, they agreed that all their clothing was getting in the way and the only solution was to remove every stitch.

Gently, Yosh traced the curve of her shoulder, her breast, first with his hand, then his lips.

“Your skin is like silk,” he whispered. “So smooth. So lovely.” Slowly, his hands slid down her body, so slowly that she wanted to beg him to hurry. Clever musician fingers, stroking and probing, coaxing a theme out of her that she scarcely recognized. She hummed and moaned in ardent response to him, every nerve singing, her long-throttled emotions bursting upward, free.

He was passionate, playful, and best of all, skillful. Eagerly, she rolled around with him on the soft orange cushions, making love until she was exhausted. Finally, they sank down sweatily in a comfortable heap.

“Mmm. So nice.” She closed her eyes.

He caressed her sleepily. “Stay the night?”

Melanie chuckled. “As if I have a choice.” She snuggled sleepily in his arms and was soon drifting into dreams. She was walking across the nighttime desert. Above, the stars burned with cold, remote light. The wind sent sparkling sand in looping whorls above her head and whispered secrets in her ears as it rushed past but she couldn’t understand the words. She listened harder. The whisper became a mutter, then a scream that hurt her ears. Melanie sank down on her knees in the midst of the sudden, raging sandstorm. And across the shifting gray landscape, a green woman approached, fighting the wind and blowing sand, arms extended in supplication. Her mouth moved, but the gale tossed her words away. In frustration, the green woman grabbed Melanie and shook her.

“Stop it,” Melanie cried. “I don’t understand you.”

She came awake to find Yosh gently shaking her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ooh.” She leaned against him, her heart pounding. “Bad dream. Too much wine.”

“Tell me.”

“Weird. A green woman. On the desert at night in the middle of a storm. Asking for my help.”

“A green woman?” Yosh’s voice sounded suddenly alert. He sat up.

“Yeah. What’s even stranger, I thought I saw her ghost. Or her sister’s ghost.”

“Ghost? When?”

“Today. Right before I met you.”

“Where?”

“One of those screen rooms.”

“Dammit. I should have known.” Suddenly Yosh was on his feet. He pulled on a pair of leggings and grabbed a coldlight stick.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“To see Ashman. Stay here.”

“No way.” She jumped up and started dressing. “I’m not staying in this spookhouse alone, Yosh. Where you go, I go.”

“All right. But hurry.”

“What’s wrong?” she said, sealing her yellow tunic. “I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.”

“I believe in this one. Bad omen. If I’m right, a friend of mine may be in trouble.”

“A friend? Who?”

“Just a friend, all right?” He waited impatiently by the door. “Come on.”

She hurried after him into the hall. “Should we really be wandering around here in the dark? Do you think your friend is here someplace?”

“Yeah. And I’ve got an idea that Ashman will know where.”

Melanie stopped in her tracks. “Yosh, do you really think we should go ask him about this? He doesn’t seem, well, exactly stable to me. What if he gets upset? He’s so unpredictable. And powerful.”

“That’s a good point.” He paused. “Well, there’s the empty wing. They haven’t quite finished it yet. We could look around there.”

He led her down a maze of hallways until her head was spinning. She felt as though they’d been walking for hours. Numbly she followed him along shadowy halls, lit by narrow pin spots and green sodium lamps. The building was silent, deserted. Melanie wondered where the security staff was. The place seemed as silent as Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

Around one corner, down a left-hand corridor, around another corner, and through an atrium where the moonlight filtered spookily down through green glass. Spiky shadows revealed saguaro cacti reaching arms toward the stars.