Authors: Robin Owens
Heart Journey (34 page)
Del cleared her throat. “Surely, if you had something as valuable as the diary, you’d keep it in the main estate’s HouseHeart.”
Raz’s teeth clicked together as his jaw clenched. “You would think so. But it’s not there, not in the HouseHeart safe, not in the Residence. Nothing of Tabacin’s.” He made an abortive gesture. “I’m supposed to have some divination cards that she created. If so, she was a good artist.”
Del’s eyes widened. “Cards.”
“They do seem to be homemade, and of materials more Earthan than Celtan. Of the old Earth image system, not the Celtan Ogham.”
“Fascinating.”
The door to the exercise and fighting room hung off its hinges.
“Lights,” he said. Sucking in air, he marched forward. A grounding strip ran along the base of one of the short walls. A few seconds later he was there and shoved the anger roiling within him through his soles to the mat. His feet no longer burned, red no longer edged his vision, though his muscles trembled as his rage renewed when he saw more long slashes in the walls.
“I’m sorry about this.” Del wrapped an arm around his waist and the heat he felt from her told him that she was using the grounding mat for her anger, too.
He buried his face in her hair. “This wasn’t even my favorite place. I’ve always loved the Residence and Druida more than this hick town.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t say that to Trillia when she was auditioning for a part down here, though.”
Del stroked his head, sifting her fingers through his hair, and they sighed together. “I’d forgotten about seeing that show,” she said.
He raised his head. “You don’t want to see
Heart and Sword
?”
Heart and Sword
?”
“Sure I do. I love plays.”
On another steady inhalation he examined the room. The exercise mats were too thin to have held anything, but they’d been cut up. The ballet barre was broken in three pieces. He shook his head. “The thieves really tore this place up.”
Del leaned against him and he felt the wave of comfort she was sending him. “Thank you,” he said.
“Welcome.”
“Mirrors,” he ordered and the upper panels shimmered and turned reflective. There were some dark spots here and there, but they looked better than the wood, and whatever they were made of hadn’t shattered. “Not too bad,” he said.
Del grunted and he didn’t think it was agreement. She said, “Comparatively better.”
“Yes.” He nerved himself, sent the awful anticipation away into the grounding mat, too. “The nursery next.”
“Nursery?”
“Where my sister’s dolls are.” He swallowed hard. “She loved—loves—this place and didn’t want to come. She wanted me to check on the dolls.”
Del stepped behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, dug her fingers into him in an excellent massage. First she worked on his tense neck. He deliberately relaxed his back, groaned as she loosened a tight knot, let his head fall forward.
When his thoughts began to drift, she dropped her hands and stepped off the mat, offered her fingers. “Ready to do this?”
“Yes.” He took her hand, dry and warm and strong, as usual.
At the door he turned left. “At the end of the hall.” They walked and he saw drunken cabinets where a leg had been snapped, more walls damaged.
The nursery was nearly as wrecked as the den. The plank floor had been torn up, most of the toys broken. No books or holos or vizes remained here, either, not one single page. “Cave of the Dark Goddess, they took all our books!”
“Bad,” Del said. “Full lighting.”
“Terrible,” Raz said. He trod gingerly around holes in the floor, the jutting or sunken wood. Stopped. His stomach clenched when he saw the pile of dolls in the corner, like bodies. He froze. Could not take one more step forward.
Del let go of his hand and walked to the corner; she bent down and her fine, taut derriere stretched against her summer trous, and Raz welcomed the distraction, the curl of lust inside him driving out dread, transmuting the anger. Another way to ground fury—turn it into lust. He didn’t think Del would mind doing that with her own anger, coming together in wild sex tonight.
After this endless tour of the house was over. “How are they?” he rasped.
“Not too bad.” She stood and turned, holding a doll no larger than her hand. “Mostly just tossed aside. Do you know which one was your sister’s favorite?”
“Yeah.” He was afraid to hope that the face hadn’t been smashed in, cut up, the eyes . . . no, he wouldn’t let his imagination rule. He took the room in bounds, jumping over messes. When he reached the corner, he found that Del had sat most of the dolls against the wall. They didn’t look too bad . . . until he saw his sister’s favorite soft-bodied one slit open from neck to legs.
“We can have her restuffed and mended,” Del said.
“Good.” He changed the topic. “We’ll need to clean a room for Straif.”
“He isn’t fussy.”
Raz didn’t believe her.
They worked on a guest room, swept the crumbled bedsponge into a trash receptacle, pushed the broken furniture against the wall and used a housekeeping spell to cleanse it. Raz wasn’t pleased with the poor result and his jaw hurt from where he’d clamped it shut.
“We can sleep here.” Del studied his old room. “I have enough energy and Flair for a housekeeping spell to get rid of the sponge.”
“Not a decent bedsponge in the house,” Raz said.
Del patted her duffle. “I have two groundmats here.” She smiled. “One will be crowded, but I don’t think we’ll mind.”
“No.”
“The other we can use for Straif.”
I need My own cushion. A FAT one.
Rosemary had awakened and eyed the flattened pillows.
A feather pillow might be good. I like feathers.
Her little teeth showed.
But it MUST be plumper.
Rosemary had awakened and eyed the flattened pillows.
A feather pillow might be good. I like feathers.
Her little teeth showed.
But it MUST be plumper.
Raz knew answers to statements like this. “Why don’t you pick your pillow or your cushion out from whatever is in the house?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“We can purchase a pillow for you later today,” Raz said. “But now all the best establishments are closed.”
The kitten made a small huffing sound. Her ears rotated and she turned her back.
Del rolled out the groundmat, waved a hand, and it inflated. Raz eyed it warily. Sure wasn’t a bedsponge.
“Well, I’ll be going,” said the guard who’d arrived on stage with one line like a minor player. “Little Miz Rosemary, if I were you, I’d take the middle couch cushion from the mainspace. Dark red would complement your coloring.”
Raz couldn’t see that, a blue gray cat on deep red.
Rosemary’s back rippled in a cat shrug.
YES.
YES.
“And I can ’port it up for you,” the guard said. With a frown and a Word he did so.
The kitten went over to it immediately, hopped atop it, began kneading.
“How does it smell, Rosemary?” asked the guard.
She lowered her nose, then looked at him.
Smells like FamMan and Family and knife metal and furrabeast glove.
She touched a slash.
Smells like FamMan and Family and knife metal and furrabeast glove.
She touched a slash.
This cushion was the least harmed of all. The guard had known that, had observed the location of the cushion well enough to be able to transport it, had enough Flair to do so. Perhaps Raz’d underestimated the man.
“Ah,” the guard said. He nodded to Raz, bowed toward Del.
Raz stepped forward and offered his hand. “Thank you for your work.” He added a sincere smile. “You’ve been a great help.”
“It’s nothing. My job,” the guard said gruffly. He set a tiny disk down that would include all his contact information. “Scry if you want, or if you come across anything you think I should know. I’ll use the upper-story teleportation pad.”
Neither of the teleportation areas had been drained of energy. Probably so the crooks could escape.
The guard passed Shunuk as he trotted in, smelling of cool air with a hint of damp. He grinned when he saw Rosemary.
Kitten needs to sleep on a pillow?
His teeth were a lot sharper than Rosemary’s. Then the fox snorted, angled his head so he was looking at Del.
Kitten would not be good on the trail.
He fluffed his tail, flicked it.
Not even when she is grown. She is a demanding cat.
Kitten needs to sleep on a pillow?
His teeth were a lot sharper than Rosemary’s. Then the fox snorted, angled his head so he was looking at Del.
Kitten would not be good on the trail.
He fluffed his tail, flicked it.
Not even when she is grown. She is a demanding cat.
“No,” Del said quietly with an odd note in her voice. “Rosemary is not meant for the trail.” She left the room carrying the other rolled groundmat. Raz watched her, tried to figure out what she might be feeling through their link, but only sensed a weariness.
MY cushion needs to be moved so the morning sun will fall on Me.
Shunuk rolled on the floor, hooting with laughter.
This room does not have any eastern windows, cat. Take yourself down the hall, then.
This room does not have any eastern windows, cat. Take yourself down the hall, then.
Rosemary turned her back on them and curled up in a pouting cat-circle, tail over nose.
Del walked in, all quiet competence and with the air of a task well done. There was not a less demanding woman on the planet. Had he truly understood that? Valued that? Now that he had a FamKitten that wanted things
her
way from the start, the contrast was staggering.
her
way from the start, the contrast was staggering.
His lover walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and they leaned together. Almost like a unit like his parents were, like his sister was with her HeartMate.
No! He didn’t want a HeartMate or a wife to distract him from his climb to stardom.
But Del felt so good in his arms. “Lights off,” he said and peeled her shoulder tabs apart.
Twenty-seven
D
el sighed, stepped away, and dropped her trous, loosened her breast
band a little until it only draped over her breasts, didn’t lift and form them into delectable mounds. They looked fine to Raz anyway. “You don’t need the breastband,” he said. He didn’t have the energy anymore to have lusty sex with her . . . anger had been worn down by grief and melancholy and the sheer
work
of trying to recall all their Family possessions and report on what was lost.
el sighed, stepped away, and dropped her trous, loosened her breast
band a little until it only draped over her breasts, didn’t lift and form them into delectable mounds. They looked fine to Raz anyway. “You don’t need the breastband,” he said. He didn’t have the energy anymore to have lusty sex with her . . . anger had been worn down by grief and melancholy and the sheer
work
of trying to recall all their Family possessions and report on what was lost.
“Straif will be here soon.”
“Oh, yes.” He grimaced, pulled his clothes off until he was wearing only his loincloth. Del was dressed in breastband and pantlettes. She took a loose onesuit from her bag and put it near the left side of the bed.
They matched in that. He preferred the right side of the bed. He swung her up into his arms, kissed her, and when their lips met, it was with a gentle tenderness, a promise of other times. He’d needed her taste. He opened their bond wide, found it was wide on her side, too. Then he sank onto the bed, let his ragged emotions sink into her. He wrapped around her and in an instant was asleep.
He was awakened by a knock on the front door that echoed loudly by spell through the room. “Straif Blackthorn here.”
Raz flung sleep away with a shake of his head, rose, and drew on trous, saw a shadowy Del slip into the onesuit from the corner of his eye. Coughing to clear roughness from his throat, he projected, “Raz Cherry on my way down. Thank you for coming.” For the first couple of steps he was stiff from the groundmat, then he balanced his energy and moved across the floor with an easy glide.
Del was one step behind him as he went through the door and he reached back and caught her fingers. They moved through the dark in silence.
You forgot ME!
Rosemary mentally shouted.
Rosemary mentally shouted.
Shunuk stayed in his corner.
“Come along, then,” Raz said. “We did a quick cleanup of the floors, nothing to hurt your paws.”
There was a skittering and she ran to keep up. He paused at the head of the stairs following D’Ash’s instructions. “Always keep the cat in sight when negotiating stairs. Let the cat proceed first.” He wondered how many broken bones Healers had put together from cat/people tangles on stairs.
“I wonder how many cats D’Ash has Healed from stairway incidents,” Del murmured.
Rosemary was prancing at the doorway.
Time for T’Blackthorn to see ME.
Time for T’Blackthorn to see ME.
“His FamCat is Drina,” Del said, then Raz heard privately.
Do not let Rosemary talk to Drina under any circumstances. She is the original Queen of the Universe Fam. She will give Rosemary ideas.
Do not let Rosemary talk to Drina under any circumstances. She is the original Queen of the Universe Fam. She will give Rosemary ideas.
Raz smiled wryly as he picked his kitten up, mentally whispering back to Del,
I think Rosemary already has a lot of ideas.
He opened the front door, his brows rising as he took in FirstFamily GrandLord Straif T’Blackthorn. The man looked scruffier than Raz himself. His leathers had stains Raz didn’t want to contemplate and Straif wore the oldest celtaroon boots Raz had ever seen.
I think Rosemary already has a lot of ideas.
He opened the front door, his brows rising as he took in FirstFamily GrandLord Straif T’Blackthorn. The man looked scruffier than Raz himself. His leathers had stains Raz didn’t want to contemplate and Straif wore the oldest celtaroon boots Raz had ever seen.
“Greetyou.” Straif adjusted his wide-brimmed hat.
Raz recalled his manners. “Thank you for coming so soon.”
I am a beautiful Kitten and Drina is OLD,
Rosemary announced.
Rosemary announced.
Straif’s gaze went to her as she sat on Raz’s shoulder. His eyes crinkled. “Older than you, for sure.”
Raz stepped back and Del did the same, moving like they were a unit. He didn’t want to think about that, had plenty of other things to think about. “The kitchen is this way. It’s bad.”
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