Heart Choice (15 page)

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Authors: Robin D. Owens

BOOK: Heart Choice
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Fire! The word, the image of flame and smoke, panic,
burst into Mitchella's head and sent her reeling back into the wall.
“Fire!” she cried, echoing Trif's mental shriek. “My home. Antenn, Trif!”
Straif was there, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Visualize so we can 'port.”
Danith wrapped her arms around Mitchella as she swayed, a telepathic link snapped between them. Danith grasped Straif's wrist and sent images of Mitchella's rented house and street.
T'Ash connected with them through Danith, grim.
Fire,
he whispered mentally. Before Mitchella could stave off his memories, she saw his Residence burn. She screamed again.
“I've got the coordinates. We go on the count of three,” Straif said. “One. Two.
Three.
”
An instant later the cold rush of spring night air wrapped around them as they materialized outside Mitchella's home. It burned, flames flickering behind shattered windows, reaching upward from the second story to the roof. Neighbors crowded the street. Smoke rasped her eyes and throat.
“Mitchella, we've scryed the AirMages!” A neighbor shouted, mixed horror and excitement in her voice.
T'Ash and Danith stepped away from Mitchella and Straif.
“Antenn, my Antenn, Trif!” she screamed, flinging herself forward. Straif's steely grip held her back.
“I can't lose them!” She struggled with all her might, but he held her fast.
“I'll 'port inside. Mitchella,
think,
give me coordinates,” Straif panted.
Her mind gibbered so she concentrated on the strength in his fingers.
“Where would they be, Mitchella?” asked Danith.
“Can you link with your cuz Trif?” demanded T'Ash. “I Tested her. She has more than ordinary Flair.”
Mitchella
reached
with all her senses. Inhaled smoke and coughed. “Mainspace. Far left corner. Trif around Antenn around Pinky.” She knew that room intimately, had tinted every wall, refinished the floor and baseboards, furnished it. Knew the exact dimensions. She visualized a holo of the chamber with a measurement grid. Sent the image to Straif.
He jerked a nod. “T'Ash?” snapped Straif, holding out his hand.
T'Ash settled into himself. “Right.” He grasped Straif's hand. “On three. One. Two. Three.”
They were gone.
Mitchella cried out and lunged after them, but Danith held her back with slim fingers on her arm and a twist of heavy Flair. “Let the men get them. They're FirstFamily Lords, with great Flair. We can't match them in that. We'll handle the cleanup.”
There would be no cleanup. Not of the house. It couldn't be saved. Mitchella prayed the child of her heart and cuz were safe. Tears welled and leaked from her eyes. Her breath came in ragged sobs of fear. Though the fire raged, the only warmth Mitchella felt was Danith's fingers.
“The men have them!” Danith's face shone with triumph. “They're all 'porting to Primary Healing Hall. Let's go. I must care for Pinky. Does anyone in this neighborhood have a glider?”
Mitchella stared. Her throat had closed with terror, and she tried twice before she could speak. “We're not so affluent.”
At that moment the AirMages showed up, six of them, each partnered with a Persun who stored Flair. They ran to surround the house. With trained efficiency as they raised their arms, a net of white light wove between them, multiplying from six strands to a full shining cloth of energy.
“I've scanned inside, no one's there,” the SecondLevel AirMage in charge said. She stood close to Mitchella and Danith. The AirMage's Persun, a huge man, circled her waist to link with her. Unable to look away, Mitchella watched her belongings burn.
“Let's bring it down and smother the fire!” the AirMage said.
Slowly, steadily, the energy-cloth descended through the house. The Persun sucked in a loud breath as the energy from the fire being snuffed pulsed through the AirMage to be stored by him and later released constructively, to Heal or mend buildings or farm. His skin glowed.
Finally, the fire was out and the AirMages carefully equalized the air pressure of the vacuum inside the house with the atmosphere outside.
Even so, the house collapsed upon itself.
Mitchella bit her lip and swallowed hard. “I always knew the house was poorly made, but it didn't matter.”
Danith hugged her. “It had charm.”
“Charm is not always the best priority in purchasing a house,” the AirMage said, pulling out a note flexistrip. She stated the time of the “incident” and aimed the device at Mitchella. “I take it you are the owner of the property.”
The AirMage's tough tone stiffened Mitchella's backbone. “I'm the renter. The owner is GraceLord Jalap, and the insurance company is Saffron and Hops.”
The AirMage said, “You weren't in the house? Do you have any idea how the fire might have started? It burned too rapidly.”
At that moment a glider-for-hire swept down the street, Aunt Pratty hanging out the window and screaming, “Mitchella, where's my Trif?”
In a trembling voice, Mitchella addressed the AirMage. “I was at dinner with friends. I don't know how the fire started. My ward and my cuz were in the house. They're at Primary Healing Hall now. That's my aunt, I must speak with her.” Mitchella ran over to join Danith who was trying to calm Aunt Pratty, who'd exited the glider and leaned against it.
“T'Ash told me that Trif and Antenn have already been seen by the Healers and can be discharged.” Danith hugged the tear-streaked woman, stroked her hair.
“I heard Trif scream. In my
head.
” Pratty snuffled.
Danith handed her a softleaf.
Pratty continued, “Well, she always was the strongest Flaired of my bunch. Are you sure she's all right?”
Danith cocked her head as if communicating with her HeartMate. “T'Ash says smoke inhalation only. She should be completely fine in a couple of days. Hoarse until then. Why don't we go to them and take them home?” Danith gently pushed the woman back into the glider and climbed in. “Coming, Mitchella?”
Mitchella glanced at the AirMage who said, “Go. A guardsman will contact you about the fire.” She looked at the building remnants and sighed. “I'm sorry for your loss.”
Mitchella didn't want to think of her loss. The narrow two-story house was gone. Along with all her possessions, most particularly her sketch books—and Antenn's. Creative work forever lost. A great ache threatened to engulf her. But Antenn and Trif were safe, and for that she felt pure relief and thankfulness.
By the time they reached Primary Healing Hall, Aunt Pratty had murmured a cosmetic refreshing spell that tidied her clothes and hair and erased tear tracks. Danith paid the glider driver, led them into Primary Healing Hall and to the Noble Sitting Room.
At the sight of Antenn, washed and clean and healthy, Mitchella let out a whooshing breath. She ran to him, just as Pratty ran to Trif. He grabbed her and held her hard.
“Are you all right?” she patted him, ran her hands up and down his skinny arms and back.
“I'm fine. I'm fine. Mitchella, you came.”
“Of course, I came. I'll never leave you.” Her heart thumped in her tight chest. She loved this child, and she only wished she could have spared him this experience. He had too many bad memories as it was.
He choked and buried his head in her shoulder, and she pretended not to hear his suppressed sobs. Making soothing noises, she rocked him, holding him close. He smelled like boy and the best herbal soap, and she found herself crying, too.
“Here,” Straif said, and she started. He moved so quietly! He handed some softleaves to her. She took several and gave a few to Antenn. Furtively he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
Danith appeared, holding a limp Pinky. “Antenn, he's fine. I sent him into a deep sleep. He'll wake late tomorrow morning.”
Antenn disengaged himself from Mitchella, blew into the softleaves one last time, then cradled his small cat. “We're all right,” he whispered. “We're really all right.” His body shuddered. Glancing at Mitchella from under eyelashes spiky with tears, he cleared his throat and asked, “The house?”
Mitchella gulped. “Gone.”
“Where are we going to stay?” asked Antenn.
A very good question.
“With me!” said Danith.
T'Ash slipped his arm around her waist, and she leaned against his awesome strength. His eyes dark, he looked at Antenn and Mitchella and said softly, “You are welcome to stay at T'Ash Residence. There is plenty of room.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “Nothing furnished for a boy, yet, but that can be changed. It could be good for the Residence.”
Beside her, Antenn's body still held a fine trembling. Mitchella hesitated. T'Ash was genuine in his offer. This evening had brought them to a new understanding—it must have taken all his courage to 'port into a burning building, but he'd done it. And saved lives.
Danith and Straif had expected it of him, and he'd acted like the Noble he was, not the enraged man who'd thrown Mitchella across the city. She could trust him now.
Aunt Pratty wiped away renewed tears. “Of course you'll both move back into the Clover Compound, and Trif as well.”
“No, I won't!” croaked Trif. “It wasn't my house that imploded. I have a perfectly fine apartment in MidClass Lodge.”
“I need you with me, my dear,” sniffled Pratty.
“Just for a couple of days,” Trif said, squeezing her mother.
Antenn had gone still. Mitchella hated the idea of returning to the large block of sprawling Clover homes.
“With the huge complexity of Mitchella's current project in renovating my home, I think that she and Antenn should stay on site at T'Blackthorn Residence.” Straif's eyes were very blue.
Which would be worse, living with her relatives or T'Blackthorn; being smothered with attention and nosiness or in danger of being seduced? Or living with Danith and T'Ash, Commoners in a cool Residence, guests and not Family. At least at T'Blackthorn's she'd be fulfilling a purpose. At least Straif knew that Antenn must be included in any invitation.
The idea made her a little dizzy. She stared. “Are you serious?”
He smiled. “Of course. To get a real feeling for the Residence, you need to be there, to open yourself to it so it will speak with you.”
Pratty moaned a little. “FirstFamily Nobles. They are all so
strange,
and so intent on getting their own way.” When she realized what she'd said, she flushed red, but looked at Straif and T'Ash defiantly.
“Antenn and I must discuss this privately,” Mitchella said.
Danith gestured to a door Mitchella hadn't noticed. “There's a small scry cubby.”
Holding Antenn's hand, Mitchella crossed the room, opened the door, and shut it behind them. Like everything designed for Nobles, the little room held only the best. It was a narrow rectangle with light slate blue tinted walls, an elegant reddwood scrytable and a large golden scrybowl. One deeply cushioned tapestry chair was angled near the table.
As if his knees gave way, Antenn collapsed onto the thick Chinju rug, carefully protecting his cat from jarring. He scooted back against the wall, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes, stroking Pinky.
He was pale, his face thin with approaching manhood, expression serious. With a clutch of her heart, Mitchella wondered if this night had banished the last bit of young boy.
She folded herself next to him, glad to have the wall at her back. For a moment she wanted a cat to pet, thought of Drina, and decided she wouldn't take a chance with a FamCat. “What do you want to do? I'd rather not go back to the family.” She shifted her shoulders and released some tension, sagging against the wall.
A small smile curved Antenn's lips. “They're great to visit, but exhausting to live with.”
Mitchella chuckled. “Ah, yes, my solitary boy.” She brushed brown hair from his forehead.
He grimaced.
“Did I hurt you? What is it?”
“I ran with a gang once.”
“You tagged along after your
brother
.”
When he opened his eyes, his hazel gaze was intent. “Yeah, but my brother and his Triad-mates tried to take T'Ash's woman, tried to kill both of them.”
“T'Ash doesn't hold that against you!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He
doesn't.
” She wouldn't have been sure earlier that evening, but knew, now. “This situation has reconciled things between T'Ash and me. I trust him now, even with you.” She tugged gently on a lock of his hair.
“All right.” He made a face. “Then I think he and Danith would want to practice on me, as a kid, as a boy. T'Ash is sure that he's going to have sons.”
That was true.
“And there's that Zanth FamCat.” Antenn lifted Pinky from his lap to his chest. “Zanth is six times Pinky's size. Pinky will always be a little cat. Zanth might tear him up.”
Mitchella nearly shuddered at the thought of Zanth herself. “So you don't want to stay at T'Ash Residence, or the Clovers.”
“No.” He turned his head, and his hazel eyes had shifted more into the brown range. “Is it true, what T'Blackthorn said about being better for you to live at his Residence?”
She recalled how she struggled to hear Straif's house. “I think so.”
Antenn withdrew subtly. Mitchella hurried on, “But those aren't all our options!” She waved expansively. “There's space over The Four Leaf Clover,” three tiny rooms. “We could look for an apartment in MidClass Lodge—”

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