Vienna (31 page)

Justine exhaled. “We have to work on our partners-in-crime routine.”

“I'm sorry.”

Olifur's tone dropped. “I don't know why you tried to lie—”

“Vienna was shown the number in Brussels. I didn't show it to her and I doubt the Belgium police did. They would have already checked her phone records and seen that she had no contact with Andries. But Lord Davy saw her just before I did. He showed her a phone number, I suspect asking her if she recognized it.”

Vienna's face brightened. “That's right! But I never told you.”

“You did, in your own way.” Justine turned to Olifur. “Lord Davy had someone watching me at Heathrow and at Keflavík and he certainly is holding his own secrets. I accept that Haldor was killed in part because he spent time with me; I'll spend the rest of my life dealing with that.” She paused as the waiter delivered their dinner and departed. “I would give anything to change what happened. But I can't, and I don't believe you can hold us.”

“Not as a member of the police. But as a decent man I am asking you to stay here until we get this sorted out.”

“No.”

“Why in God's name not?”

“Because there's one manikin left, owned by an old lady in Austria. I don't want her hurt.”

“And Vienna? Will you risk her as well?”

Justine looked at the girl. “She should return to London.”

Vienna answered in full pout. “You sound like one of those stupid monster films.”

“I do?”

“Leave the helpless woman behind while you go do whatever it is you are going to. I hate that, and so would you.”

Justine turned to Olifur. “What was it you said about this not being Camelot?”

“Bad timing,” Olifur answered.

 

24

“Once upon a time there was a farmer with a beautiful daughter,” Justine started. She paused long enough to smile. “Of course that's how it begins,” she added.

“Of course?” Vienna asked.

“In America, every story starts with a beautiful farmer's daughter.”

Vienna had read dozens of novels from America and none of them even mentioned farmer's daughters. She accepted Justine's explanation as one of those occasions when people lie for no reason. It happened a lot more than you'd think.

Justine went on to explain that the farmer's daughter attracted the attention of two men who lived across the wasteland. When they came to court the girl, the farmer made a bargain. If the men cleared a bridal path, he would give his daughter's hand in marriage. As the wasteland was filled with warped pillars of volcanic stone, the task looked impossible. But the men flew into a rage, throwing massive boulders as if they were handfuls of grass.

“In a single day the path was cleared, and the stronger of the men demanded the daughter's hand,” Justine said. “The farmer agreed and offered the men use of his sauna to soothe their aching muscles. As soon as they were seated, the farmer collapsed the room, killing them both. At least that's the legend.”

But if it was a myth, why were there fragments of a path through the Berserkjahraun? Vienna stood in one such clearing, wondering how the mossy lane had come to be. It looked too artificial to be an accident of nature.

“Several years ago an ancient grave was discovered near here,” Justine said. “It contained the remains of two large men.”

“Then the story is real?”

“No more or less real than a unicorn horn.”

“Unicorns aren't real.” Vienna frowned.

“But they are. One is considered beyond value by one of the grandest European empires.”

“Like the Star of Memphis. But it's not real either.”

“How do you mean?”

“I looked. Red beryl only occurs in the United States, just like Davy said. How would one have gotten to ancient Egypt? It's impossible.”

Justine laughed. “It's impossible we are together.”

Vienna tried to think of a way to teach Justine not to be so smug.
Hopeless
. “Why are we here? It's a long drive back to the hotel.”

“Fresh air.”

“Aren't you afraid?”

“A little.”

“You're daffy.”

Justine waved at the jumbled towers of emerald moss and onyx lava that defined the Berserker's Field. “What geometrical patterns appear?”

“It's chaos.” Vienna turned a full circle where she stood. “There is nothing man-made.”

“How does it feel?”

“I'm not sure. More free than the city.”

Justine stuck out her tongue—a ridiculously childish gesture. “Then I guess you know why we're here.”

Vienna chose the easiest refutation. “I don't know anything. I don't even know how you guessed Lord Davy showed me a telephone number back in Brussels.”

Justine seemed disappointed with the question. “You told me during the ride to the hotel.”

“I did?”

“You were speaking to yourself. ‘Six-five-six-one,' you kept saying. You added the five and one and put it next to the other two sixes and came up with the sign of the beast.”

“I don't remember.”

“I wouldn't have either, except that I thought it was so creepy. The other numbers you mentioned were eleven and twenty-four. Three plus eight and three times eight. Six thousand five hundred and sixty-one is three to the eighth. I checked it out this morning, though unlike you I had to use a calculator.”

“I still don't understand.”

“Lord Davy said you exhibit obsessive behaviors. Grant's phone number had eight threes in it. Someone showed you the number and it started spinning cookies in your skull. Who else but Davy?”

“Spinning cookies?”

“The numbers got stuck there.”

“You must think I'm clueless.” Play yourself the fool, never be disappointed when others see you that way.

“Pretty much,” Justine said.

The answer came like a slap. Tears gathered before Vienna could stop them. Justine was smiling, but it wasn't right. Her lips were too tight.

“It's the rain, you know,” Justine said. Her voice was quiet and Vienna didn't know what it meant.

“Rain?”

“Research from a few years ago, in Seattle, I think. A study uncovered an apparent link between developmental disorders and rain. It always rains in Europe.”

Familiar confusion closing in.
What do I say?
She remembered Justine in the silk clothing, freezing from the spray of Gullfoss, still smiling. “Sometimes, you smile when you're not happy?” Her voice turned upward in a question.

“Sometimes.”

Something was wrong.
She's almost in tears
. Vienna didn't stop to wonder how the knowledge came to her. “What is it?” she asked.

“I'm not sure you and I—what we're doing is right.”

Vienna sorted through the words. “I know two females together is not accepted in America, and it's little better here but—”

“Not that.”

Vienna sighed. Always so impossible. “Then what?”

Justine looked away, remaining silent.
Afraid of what she wants to say.

Vienna was back in Bath. Christmas Eve and the anxiety that meant nothing. She wanted to scream in frustration, but she didn't like looking childish in front of Justine.

And there was her answer. Childish.
She believes that she has committed an unforgivable sin. How could I convince her otherwise, with all she has seen?

“When I was ten,” Vienna said, “I was sent to a hospital in Edinburgh. Men in white smocks showed me yellow cards covered with marker tics. They asked me how many I saw. So I told them, one after another: ‘two hundred and twelve,' or ‘three hundred and fifty-six.' Each one was up for a second, maybe two at most. I thought it was normal, yeah? I thought anyone could do it.” She stepped closer to Justine. For once, the right words were there, overheard from countless doctors. “I'm not a creature of my own design. Slipping from viral thought to the world's blank physicality. Sometimes there's no connection at all; sometimes too much.”

Justine remained silent.

“You see how I interact with the world, and to you it makes no sense. So you see one mistake after another, and you're embarrassed for me. You see me cry like a child and you twist love into the worst of crimes.”

“Vienna—”

Vienna held her finger to Justine's lips—an exact copy of Justine's motion for silence. “A string of genes that almost worked.” She considered this. “Or worked too well. I see things instantly that you might never see.” She smiled at this new thought, though maybe her smile was as sad as Justine's.

“It's more than that,” Justine said. “When we're together … I can't tell if you like such things. Or if you are ready for them.” Justine rushed on. “You're readily compliant, but maybe only because I ask.”

Vienna remembered Davy talking about the porno video.
Would you do it if she asked?
Not so much a hypothetical question now. “I'm used to you guessing things right and now you're so wrong.”

“I am?” Justine asked.

“Does it displease you when I am compliant?”

For the first time Vienna could remember, Justine was blushing. “That wasn't what I was getting at.”

Vienna fought her way through the tortured words, knowing she was missing something vital. Why did Justine blush? “This is flippy.”

Justine's lips turned up slightly. “Do tell.”

“I know what my body wants. I know what loneliness is. I know that the whitest floors hide ghosts that no one will ever see but me. I know you're warm and I like your touch. I like hearing you ask for mine. I like how you breathe when I get it right. It makes me feel as if I can do it.”

“It's just—”

“I don't think it's broken to want to feel wanted.”

Justine took Vienna's hands. “You find your own answers better than I do.”

Vienna shook her head. “Only with you. I don't understand any of the rest.”

The half smile. “Such as?”

“Why would Lord Davy have David Andries's phone number?”

Justine frowned. “Andries was a scheming bastard, but Davy is an old-fashioned, cast-iron, dyed in the wool, alpha wolf.”

“He scares you?”

“Right down to my toes.”

“He used to take me shopping along Regent Street, yeah? I remember once, three boys in black leather bumped into me. They made several sexual suggestions. Davy took them to the side and a few minutes later, each one apologized. I think they were frightened.”

“I bet.”

“So what do we do?”

“We go over everything in my BlackBerry to find what Andries was after when he died.”

Vienna bit her lip. Hadn't she said that days ago? “I can do it tonight if we start back soon, it will be dark before long.”

“That's the idea. I borrowed a few heavy blankets from the hotel and had a dinner made up as well. It's in the trunk.”

They spread blankets on the path that was part myth. “I don't think we're supposed be here after dark,” Vienna said.

“They can chase us out easily enough.”

They ate a small dinner under the impossibly wide sky, found enough privacy for a lav. The temperature dropped quickly after the rolling sun finally set.

“No posters with tic marks when I was young,” Justine said. “Instead, I had a grandfather who lived in Montana. Baseball on the radio until evening turned to night. No lights for miles. The Milky Way so bright you almost could read by it.”

They pulled the heavy blankets to their chins and lay as close together as they could. It took over an hour for the first star to come out.

“That's Jupiter,” Justine said when Vienna pointed to it. “It doesn't count.”

“Count?”

“‘Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.' Jupiter isn't a star, so you can't wish upon it.”

“What would I wish for?”

Justine laughed. “You can't tell anyone or it won't come true.”

Jupiter.
The alchemical symbol for Jupiter was tin.… A star lost in the planets. Isn't that what Lina Zahler had said?

“There!” Justine pointed up. “See it? Bluish-white. Vega. So low. Fall is growing old. Now you can make a wish.”

Vienna couldn't think of one, so she remained quiet.

“Do you know the constellations?” Justine asked.

“There's not much to see from London or Brussels.”

“That will not be a problem tonight.”

It was like nothing Vienna had ever seen. The stars awoke in pale hues of blue and red and yellow. Vienna lost count—too many appearing too quickly.
He telleth the number of stars; he calleth them all by their names.

For a few breathless moments, her mind drew lines between the brightest stars; shapes defining areas.…

“Let it go, Vienna. Your triangles really are an illusion here.”

Vienna yanked her eyes to the dark silhouette of Justine. “How did you know?”

“Your breathing was shallow. But we can do this.” Justine pointed, her arm easily seen in the glow of the stars. “Do you know the big dipper?'

“I've seen it in London.” It took her a few seconds to find the familiar shape in the profusion of stars.

“Look at the second star of the handle. What do you see?”

“It's just a star. Wait. There are two stars, very close.”

“Alcor and Mizor. The horse and the rider.”

“They're beautiful.”

Vienna felt Justine's hand over hers. “Now from the arc of the Big Dipper, we could find Arcturus if we were further south. We have Cassiopeia though.”

Justine told her Cassiopeia's story, even though Vienna already knew it. And that would have been okay, except as the storytelling spread to other constellations, Vienna began to wonder why they weren't having sex.
Surely she knows I can tonight.
Vienna wanted to, out here under the stars. Cecile said it was the best.
Am I doing something wrong?
Her fear spoke before she could stop it.