Heart Journey (10 page)

 

 

A
s soon as they finished their dance, Del was asked by another man
and accepted. She danced a few more times with men other than Raz, then excused herself. She made her way to the Marigolds to say good-bye, then to the Spindles to pay her respects and thank them again for the invitation.

If she danced one more dance with Raz she might spontaneously combust. Best to leave him curious . . . she was woman enough to know that, and to know that passion was smoldering in him as well as herself.

So she left with a wave to the room, blessing the cool outside air as it wrapped around her. Her driver was there, the glider waiting.

She slid into the vehicle and the springreen wine made her head a little muzzy—enough to speak to the man about the state of the City, the rehabilitation of what had once been known as Downwind, and whether new maps would be a boon.

The night had been good, nicer than she’d expected, and she’d make sure her dreams were better still.

 

 

T
he party had turned out to be one of the best of Raz’s life, mostly
because of the woman in red who had become a potential lover, Del Elecampane. True, Del had left after a conversation and a dance, but when she was with him, his blood pumped faster. He hadn’t managed to seduce a kiss from her; her eyes were too knowing. She’d gone without any promises to meet, though he was sure that she felt the same sweet zings of passion that he did.

A very unusual woman, she had made no overtures, had not flirted. Had left him aching with arousal after she’d gone . . . and had challenged the hunter in him to pursue.

He wasn’t the only one she’d danced with. She’d waltzed with Johns and they had looked good together, like a study in athletic grace. Damn Johns. He’d nipped Del away from Raz just because they were competitors, but two minutes later was laughing with her. Yes, the hunt was on.

Before the dullness of her absence from the party could set in, he’d received a couple of compliments on his work from people he’d admired, then an agent had hinted to him about a part in a new play by Amberose. Raz hadn’t been quite able to show simple casual interest, he’d pressed the man, who had smiled enigmatically, changed the subject, then slid away. Raz had seen him talking to Johns, who had gone as impassive as a rock face—a sign he was suppressing excitement. Another thing to compete for.

Raz didn’t know which he wanted more, the woman or the part. He’d had another glass or two of springreen wine. Almost enough to affect his timing so that he remained too long. He liked to exit an event at the right time—leaving people behind charmed and wanting more of his company.

But now he breathed the soft summer night air as he stood on the terrace above the side grassyard where about twenty gliders were parked in three rows.

He inhaled the scent of full-blown roses trained over the terrace wall, and the heavy air made him yearn for one more whiff of Del’s scent. He glanced toward the gliders, grinned. He had his own, just like the wealthiest nobles, a gift from his Family, and he’d named her Cherry. She was parked at the far end of a row, a few feet before a tangle of forest.

With three tuneful notes, he summoned her. Saw blurs of men tumble from his glider as she moved—someone had been on or in her! “Hey!” Raz shouted.

“I told you these damn shields would take too long to breach. Should have just smashed it, searched, and run,” a low voice said, beginning to swear. The man should have known better than to talk in that pitch.

“We had to disable the stun!” a smaller man said. He muttered something and the vehicle stopped, stands clicked down.

Raz jumped over the low terrace wall, grunted as he hit the ground three meters below. The thieves weren’t running away. Noise of shattering glass came. Raz didn’t waste breath shouting.

His glider was shrieking: “My virtue is threatened!” The old-time melodramatic phrase had seemed funny when he’d programmed the alarm, but now it fed his ire.

The night of black and white was hazed with the red of his anger. Not this time. His home had been violated, his work area defiled, his property smashed. Putting some Flair into his leaps, he bounded down the rows of parked gliders to his vehicle.

There were two people burglarizing Cherry. The smaller one was inside, rifling through her. He heard rips.

Raz yelled as he hopped up on a large, old, Family glider parked close to his, jumped toward the large man with a flying kick to his head. The big guy got an arm up, threw Raz off balance. He landed, rolled, came up swinging.

His knuckles connected with the man’s jaw and he grinned, hardly noticing the sting. The large guy swung back; Raz slid aside but caught a fist on his left shoulder that numbed his arm. He led with his right and got the man again. As the vandal stumbled back, Raz hooked a foot around his ankle and brought him down.

More slashing noises behind him—the smaller guy! Raz whirled. “Open!” he yelled, realized the frame was bent too much for the door to rise. Reaching through the broken window, he grabbed at the other thief, caught fabric, and did some ripping of his own.

He was yanked back and spun around by the big one. Raz jerked his head aside and the large man’s hand skimmed his temple, then he hit Raz in the stomach. He oofed out a breath, gasped, ignored the pain.

“My virtue is threatened!” screamed Raz’s glider.

“Hey!” someone yelled from the terrace—Johns. The sounds of footsteps running toward them and shouts from more people were mixed with other car alarms. “Back away, I have stun,” came from the Family glider Raz had hopped on.

He kicked at the big guy, connected. The man fell back. Raz followed and pounded short jabs on the thief’s stomach.

“Gotta go!” squeaked the man in the glider. He kicked Raz through the broken window, sent him into the big man’s fist. Pain shot from Raz’s cheek to rattle his brain.

“No!” the first man said. “Get him and hold him. Play actor too damn much trouble. Who’da thought?”

“Have a problem with actors?” Johns asked, grabbing the big guy from the back and throwing him aside.

“I’m getting out of here,” the smaller one yelled.

“Won’t get your gilt,” the big man snapped, panting. He slugged Raz on the left shoulder again. Raz punched with his right to the guy’s jaw.

Yelling, the smaller man flung himself on them. They all went down. Raz’s head cracked against metal. He landed badly on Johns, whose breath escaped in a grunting
whoof
.

“Gotcha!” The smaller man yanked at the larger, dragged him free, and they teleported away.

“Uhhhn.” Raz sat up slowly, put a hand to his head. His lip was cut and bleeding and he thought his cheek was fractured.

Johns lay flat and spit out words in short pants. “Sorry. Too late.” He groaned and it seemed to take all his breath.

“You did fine.” Raz wiggled his jaw; it hurt, too. A dull throbbing came from his temple. “Many thanks, I’m grateful.”

Sudden quiet descended, except for Raz’s glider. “My virtue has been violated,” Cherry said mournfully.

D
el took a long waterfall, letting the hot water roll over her. She liked
real waterfalls, too, but they were invariably cold. So she hummed and did a slick wiggle to shake off the energy of others. There was something to be said for civilization, since it provided hot waterfalls and steaming bathing pools laced with lovely fragrances upon demand.

After stretching to loosen muscles she hadn’t used lately but that had been put to the test when dancing, she hit the bedsponge and leaned against fat pillows propped against the headboard. Sighing in contentment she drifted into a meditative trance.

First she thought of Helendula and her chest tightened. How could she love the child so quickly? Except to her, the little girl seemed to embody all the best traits of Del’s Family. Curiosity, happiness with what she was given, generosity, love.

Just how generous and loving was Del herself?

Loving and generous enough to walk away and leave Helendula with the Blackthorns?

No. Not totally.

Helendula was an Elecampane and should learn Elecampane traditions. In fact, Helendula was now Del’s Heir. This house and everything else would belong to Helendula if something happened to Del—and much of the Elecampane knowledge could be lost. Including the way to the HouseHeart and the small flame of sentience being born in that sacred space.

Del hadn’t thought much about Elecampane traditions. Because G’Aunt Inula knew everything, more than Del. How much of her own heritage was lost now?

Probably not a lot. Inula would have kept meticulous records and a Family journal off-site of her own home. She’d come to check this house once a week and would have updated a journal here.

Del faced the question of selfishness. Did she really want to take care of Helendula, change her life for the child? A part of her echoed
yes
and she was pleased at the answer. She wasn’t totally selfish and self-absorbed then. She could change her life to fit Helendula into it, take shorter jobs or city jobs until Helendula could come with her . . .

Despite herself, her life was changing. She’d have fought against it harder if she hadn’t had a child to think about. She hadn’t thought about having a child so soon.

Part of her wanted Helendula, maybe even a stable base camp instead of complete freedom to wander the roads. Perhaps a nesting instinct was activated when HeartMates connected.

Most of her wanted to continue as she had been, rising with the sun, searching out new places, making them known on papyrus for others. The whole world used her maps, and that was a real achievement. She wasn’t ready to stop her travels yet.

Lately she’d yearned to go east, beyond the far edge of the Deep Blue Sea, the huge inner ocean of Celta to the Bluegrass Plains. There had been tiny communities from Druida City to the western half of the continent since the disastrous landing of the starship
Lugh’s Spear.
In the last few decades people had been moving east instead of north or south. The Bluegrass Plains were verdant and Celtans had more knowledge and Flair than ever. That was where the new cities would rise, Del felt it in her bones.

Even as her thoughts spiraled out to that idea, she yanked them back to Helendula. Should she take the child away from Straif and Mitchella Blackthorn, uproot her once again?

If Del wanted the Elecampane Family to go on, she should claim Helendula. Somewhere along the way through all this mess, Del had decided that she would grieve if she knew she was the last of her Family. Grieve for the future more than the past. Each person and Family had unique gifts to contribute. Helendula would be no different.

But the child was loved by the Blackthorns. Was claiming the girl just because she was the last of Del’s Family selfish, too? Del winced. She thought so, yet she couldn’t let the Family vanish; that was beyond her. No solution now, the matter of Helendula would have to wait another day.

Now she could consider the matter of her HeartMate, Raz Cherry. Her lips curved and sweet delightful desire sifted through her.

He was gorgeous. She loved his coloring, the auburn hair and coppery skin, his blue eyes. More, she liked watching him move. His voice was mellow, with a nice range, didn’t offend her ears.

She had it bad.

She wanted him bad.

And she wanted him to need her bad.

She unfolded her legs, thumped the pillows, and lay down. One last thing before she
reached
for Raz—and surely he’d be done with the party, now? He wouldn’t be with anyone else, would he? Jealousy stabbed. She was sure he’d felt the same attraction that she had. But men did stupid things.

Hell, women did stupid things, too.

All these
feelings
involving Raz, since she’d strengthened the bond between them. How he felt about the woman, his friends—that Trillia and St. Johnswort and Balsam—
she
felt that now. She hadn’t anticipated that, didn’t like it much.

She didn’t think she projected much emotion, so maybe he wouldn’t feel hers through their bond. Maybe he wouldn’t guess she was his HeartMate. He’d run—no, he’d shut her out—if he learned that. Keep her away longer than she wanted to stay in Druida.

He wasn’t ready for a HeartMate. She’d gotten used to the idea. He just needed a little more time to see what they could share.

She called mentally for her Fam,
Shunuk.

I am here,
he said.