The Master (29 page)

“What she said? The cat talked?” Nick sounded surprised. There wasn't enough energy left for shock and amazement at all the things that happened in this wonderland, but this was something new.

“Only in my head. She said I was pretty—”

“Which you are,” Nick replied promptly. He kissed her nose. Zee smiled a little.

“And that I shouldn't worry.”

“Sound advice,” Nick agreed. “Worry solves nothing and gives one ulcers. Did the cat say anything else?”

“Yes.” Zee's brows drew together. “She said I wasn't like ‘
the other
.' ”

“What
other
?”

“My question exactly. What other?”

“Hm . . . well, you know cats. They like to be inscrutable.”

“Maybe that's it.” But Zee didn't think so. The cat had meant something specific.
Don't worry. You aren't like the other
.

“Are you ready for some dinner?” Nick asked. “I gather that we are all going to break bread at the next meal—a sort of late-Christmas feast.”

Zee hesitated. “I know. I helped with it, actually. But I'm not very hungry,” she finally admitted. Her insides had been in turmoil since she and Nick had made love.

“I'm not either. But I feel like we should go. I gather that it's some sort of ritual for good luck. More like a fey Thanksgiving.”

“Sympathetic magic,” Zee said. “A feast ensures future prosperity. Yes, we have to go. I've spent too long being hungry as it is.”

Zee had told him some more about her goblin home life, and about being on the run. Nick had been appalled and was inclined to overfeed her— something she appreciated but couldn't take advantage of with her stomach feeling so topsy-turvy.

“Sympathetic magic?” Nick echoed. “Makes sense, I guess. Well, as much sense as anything around here.”

She looked up at him. “
Does
anything really make sense here?”

“As much as anywhere else,” Nick finally answered. Then he smiled and made a strange comment that she didn't understand: “We sure aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

“Nevada,” Zee agreed. “This is still Nevada.”

“That either.” Nick looked her in the eye. “You've seen
The Wizard of Oz
, then?”

“No. I've never seen any wizards,” Zee answered. For some reason, this made Nick smile again.

“You're in for a treat. That will be our first DVD rental.”

“D-V-D?”

“Never mind. It will be a surprise—a nice one. When all this is over and we're away.” Nick reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Now, let's get to the party.”

Io brought the first course to the giant onyx table. The ritual began with what Nick would liken to vichyssoise, though it was made up of a host of flavors he couldn't identify. It was served with herbed croustades—though again, Nick couldn't say which herbs were used. He noticed, though, that everyone from the youngest to the oldest—who was probably Abrial—ate and drank heavily, and that soon after consuming the first course everyone seemed energized. Nick felt it, too: a falling away of exhaustion that made him sit up and want to smile.

The second course, brought by Cyra, was a dish that tasted a good deal like salmon, except that its color was pale blue. Seeing his bewilderment, Io explained that it wasn't actually fish, but a sort of yam that grew in the shian. Nick nodded, beginning to wonder if the herbed mashed potatoes beside the faux salmon was actually potato. He poked at what looked like a side of saffron risotto but might be bugs or who knew what, and raised an eyebrow at Io.

“Saffron risotto,” Io confirmed, making him feel a little silly. Everyone else, especially Zee, was eating heartily.

The third course, brought this time by Roman's wife, Lyris, was duck in a cherry sauce with roasted eggplant roulade that cradled minced carrots and chard with a side of forget-me-nots. By now, a very amused Io was whispering the names of the dishes to Nick without being asked.

“And the forget-me-not is also called Scorpion Tail. It's a cure for many neurotoxin venoms. It's very healthful stuff. For feys.”

“Oh,” was all Nick said.

It was perhaps an optical illusion caused by the sparkling waters dancing in the chandelier fountains around and over the table, but it seemed to Nick that everyone at the board had taken on a sort of glow, an aura of health and well-being. Even Zee seemed happy and energized as she chatted with Zayn—a state she had not been in for the past two days.

The fourth course, this one prepared and served by Nyssa, was a pasty smothered in exotic mushrooms, with a side of love-in-the-mist, which Nick ate in spite of his cautious inner voice whispering about the dangers of mushroom poisoning. As before, Io explained which mushrooms were safe for feys, and how the seeds of love-in-the-mist had been used by Egyptian women to promote beauty. She also added that the French called the flower
cheveaux de Venus
, and Nick had just enough mastery of the French tongue to blush. After that, he found the soft, hairlike fronds wrapping the black seeds of the flower to be rather suggestive.

Chloe brought a salad next, a mix of wild weeds that were bitter and yet somehow delicious when paired with the tart wine she served.

Nick had just begun to wonder when the feast would end when Zee excused herself and rose from the table. She returned a moment later, proudly bearing what looked like a small mountain of lemon sorbet in a lake of raspberry sauce sprinkled with pansies and sweet violets.

“Heart's ease,” Io whispered as Zee began serving counter-clockwise—widdershins, they called it. “Also known as Johnny Jump-ups. Good for helping the heart to be unafraid.”

“It looks fabulous,” Nick said.

“I made it myself,” Zee whispered, slipping back into her seat beside him after she had served everyone. “Io showed me how. I'd never seen a lemon before.”

Nick took a bite. Delighted, he allowed his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Superb,” he said, and meant it. He had never tasted anything quite so good, so rich and sparkling. Every other dessert he could recall seemed anorexic in comparison. Zee squeezed his hand and looked terribly pleased.

“I wanted to help with the feast because it's a sort of magic spell. At first I thought it was kind of crazy, but it's real, isn't it? You can see it, too.”

“Yes. Everyone looks terrific.”

“I've never seen so much food. For once, I don't feel hungry.”

Nick took her hand and thought about some of the great banquets he had partaken of, or even read about in stories like
Bracebridge Hall
and
A Christmas Carol
. They had been as grand—served on platters of silver and gold—but none could compare in gratification or variety to the one they had just enjoyed.

Of course, the thought of the Dickens story brought Nick's own ghost to mind.
Are you there?
Nick asked guiltily.
You've been awfully quiet lately.

I'm here
, came the faint reply,
and enjoying everything. Please have some more sorbet. I've never tasted any
thing quite like it
.
Actually, I still haven't. But I enjoy watching you and living vicariously,
the spirit confessed.

His words caused Nick a small pang. How terribly lonely a ghost's life must be.

Not lonely,
the ghost answered with a sigh.
Just a bit short of physical sensation.

Your voice is so faraway now. Are you well?

Naturally, I grow fainter. The farther you travel from your old life course, the more distant you become. And that's a good thing. It means your destiny has been recharted. Follow your new star, Nick, and don't look back
. The ghost's voice had almost vanished.

“Is something wrong?” Zee asked softly, and Nick realized that he was frowning.

“Not a thing,” he whispered back, lacing his fingers with hers and marveling again at how soft she was and how delicious she smelled. “And how are you? All is well?”

“I'm well,” she answered.

Nick noticed then that the others were rising from the table and leaving as couples. Suddenly he could feel that familiar magic—sex was floating on the air. It, too, had apparently been called to the feast. For a moment, both he and Zee were wary. But the energy that floated on the air was somehow different than what they had last encountered. It was something that had been invited, and it was waiting for permission to enter them.

“Come then,” Nick said softly, looking into Zee's eyes.

She nodded.

In their bedchamber, the blue waters in their crystal decanter danced with soft light. It seemed all the shian was rejoicing with its inhabitants.

There was a moment's work to remove their clothing, and then Zee and Nick were nestled in the soft furs of their bed, pressed length to length, hardness against softness.

Part of Zee expected an assault, but Nick's touch was delicate, almost lazy. He trailed his long white fingers over her breasts, following with his mouth, where his lips and warm breath offered two more forms of caress. Here was a touch that savored but insisted on nothing in return.

“You are a delight to me,” Nick whispered against the skin of Zee's belly. “So warm and soft—and sweet.” He turned his head and gazed up at her. His slow hands traveled again, skimming over her right breast, seeking the pleasure of touch and simply that.

“Nick,” she sighed, putting into his name what she could not ask or say.

“I'm here,” he replied, his voice soothing as he kissed his way up her body. “You can give yourself to me. I will care for you—and I need you, Zee, if that means anything. Me, not any magic.”

“
Do
you need me, Nick?” she asked, aware that her body was ahead of her mind and already questing after more of his touch.

“I do,” he answered, his slow, sensual touch descending the slope of her waist and the flare of her thigh. “There is something in you that calls to me, that gives me life. I was slowly becoming a ghost, just a shadow of who I could be, and every year I grew thinner in spirit, less hopeful. You saved me from that.”

Zee sank her fingers into Nick's dark velvet hair and drew a sigh from him.

“Such lovely hands,” he said, “so small, and yet they have such power.”

Zee let go of her lingering wariness. She let her hands glide over Nick's body, enjoying the hard muscles of his shoulders, the slope of his back, the light dusting of hair on his chest; given free rein, they explored and touched at will, reveling in the textures that were Nick's physique.

Her legs shifted languidly, parting in hope of more of his touch. She arched with pleasure when he accepted the invitation, gliding his fingers up her inner thigh and to the heart of her. Zee opened as a flower offered the first rays of the spring sun.

“I'm so glad that you can trust me again,” Nick said. “I was afraid that perhaps that was destroyed, driven off by the last time we . . .” He searched for words.
Made love
wasn't the correct term for what they had been compelled to do.

Did
she trust him? With her life, with the lives of her brother and sister, yes. But with her secret? With both secrets? Suddenly, Zee felt more vulnerable than she ever had in her life.

“What is it?” Nick asked, feeling the sudden confusion that split her mind. “Don't you trust me? I swear that I would never harm you. You must know that.”

Harm her? No, he wouldn't. But he might break her heart. For all his words, he might not be able to love her—might not be able to love their child once they were away from here.

Not wanting to face that thought, Zee wrapped herself around Nick, pulling him closer and taking comfort in the warmth of his body.

“Make love to me,” she said into the curve of his throat. “It's what I want.”

“You're certain?” Nick asked, pulling back far enough to look at her. His eyes held concern.

“More certain than I am of anything else,” Zee answered, straining upward toward his lips. She allowed herself to enjoy the sweetness of his kiss, let physical sensation push emotional doubt aside. And for a time, it was enough.

“The press is aware of the mall Santa's murder— and though there was nothing on the radio yesterday, by now they probably know about the children's disappearance,” Nick said to Jack the next morning over breakfast; he'd seen it on the Internet. He was feeling odd: happy, but with an edge. He was sated but still anxious, because he knew the time for battle was approaching and his contentment would not last. He'd tried reading poetry as a diversion but soon noticed that though the book he'd found described misery in great detail, it little discussed degrees of happiness. Probably because happiness was often ephemeral, whereas misery was forever.

“Maybe so, but I'm betting the details were hushed up. The lutins won't want this getting out and the human authorities will want to avoid panic. They'll probably keep the children's families quiet by telling them to wait for a ransom demand,” Jack answered.

“So, the humans and goblins are going to hold hands—or at least their tongues—on this?” Nick asked, disbelief casting a first shadow over his good mood.

“I suspect so. Still, I can't imagine Qasim allowing that to happen. He'll need the press for his announcement, and he'll offer them something spectacular as a lure. If the bribe is impressive enough, they'll broadcast anything he wants.”

Nick felt suddenly cold and the last of his happiness died. “We have to find those kids. Now.”

“We have!” Thomas Marrowbone said, walking into the room. He carried several sets of papers in his hands, which he spread out on the table. “Abrial and Roman are on their way back as we speak. Take a look. I've confirmed Nyssa's findings with Spy-Sat photos. Qasim was definitely headed toward L.A., and he had all two hundred children with him.”