American Quest (4 page)

They discarded their clothing, draping garments one by one over the towel bar. The room filled with steam and he closed off the faucet and dipped his hands into the water, smoothing it across the curves of her body. She drew in her breath. He picked her up again and then sat on the folded towel at the commode, settling her across his knees, hands warm and caressing.

The tub billowed and the rug and towels illuminated in pale drifts despite the darkness of the room. The candles twinkled like stars, casting their waltzing light across the broad plain of his shoulders. She loved the vastness of those shoulders. If she brought her elbows up and out sideways with her knuckles together, the length of her arms elbow-to-elbow matched the length of his chest shoulderto-shoulder.

“What gave you the idea to make love to me in the clouds,” she whispered, her fingers grazing each of his muscles in turn.

“It’s where we belong together. In the heavens.”

She closed her eyes with a sleepy smile, though her body twinged with something far from drowsiness. She felt the hairs of her skin rise in pointed anticipation.

She wanted to breathe him in, drink him in, take him in. She wanted to absorb every ion of his being and saturate herself in his energy.

The frothing bathtub crackled softly in waiting, like the reel of an old black-and-white movie. He pressed his face into her hair, and then searched beyond, his lips at her collarbone, his mouth tracing wet bows down her skin. “Without you, I don’t exist.”

She replied with a vocalization that remained buried within her throat, pressing her body to him, moving first her hip and then her leg so that she faced him.

Their fingers, mouths, and ankles locked, and the fit seemed to
transcend beyond their bodies. She laid back her head at the shock of his skin, so searing and so alive. So intrinsic to her being. Sounds escaped from her throat and poured upward with the scented vapors. Her hair tumbled back past her waist and grazed his leg.

They gripped each other, each muscle taut and clamping, as if they could lock for a span of forever.

ENERVATA WAS LOSING PATIENCE for Sileny’s melodrama, but he allowed her to speak. “What is it?”

In his natural Macul form, with thick bronze skin and wiry hair that covered much of the lower half of his body to the tip of his tail, he slumped into the armchair. Sileny stood before him on the marble, her chin tucked and forehead thrust forward, moving her hands in quick explanation.

“You are not even a lieutenant, Sileny. Just a low-ranking Pravus. Hardly qualified to delve into that. Anyway, it’s a distraction. We must focus on our most important task.”

Her hands moved in reply.

Enervata rolled his eyes, his chin atop his claw. “Yes, yes. And by the way you probably wish to feed, don’t you?”

Hedon and Glueg laughed, a gulping rumble between bites of lamb.

Enervata regarded them, sighed, and turned back to Sileny. “Which pair-normale has you so distressed?”

Sileny’s chin dipped lower under the brothers’ mockery, but she continued to wave through her speech.

“So very conscientious.”

Another rumble came from the brothers.

“But perhaps for once you’re right, Sileny. If they open a bakery, they will have an increased social presence and their passion could spread.”

“Tell you what, master,” Glueg said, smacking his lips and rising to his feet. “Me brother and I ought to take care of this one. We can crush a pair-normale as easy as a babe fills its nappy. ’Tween the two of us we’ll have them lovers brawling in a jiff.”

“You think you’ll be more efficient than Sileny, do you?”

Hedon waved a leg of lamb toward Sileny. “It’s just that she’s so batty, that one. That’s why you don’t send her out into the field much, anyway, isn’t it? She’s best served as a scullery maid. Leave it to us, master. Glueg and me; we’ll give this twosome a good smite.”

A shrill growl came from Sileny’s throat, a catlike sound that, if she had a mouth, might have emerged as a screech.

Hedon sneered. “Odd as a cock’s egg, aren’t you dearie?”

The growl escalated as it struggled to escape her and she hurled Hedon’s plate of lamb. It missed him and struck the wall.

Enervata waved a hand, sending a burst of indigo light arcing toward Sileny. She shielded her face just as it sliced upon her and the little finger of her left hand toppled to the floor. She whimpered, wide-eyed, and cradled her diminished hand with the other.

“At least your reflexes are quick, Sileny,” Enervata said. “You very nearly lost your nose just now.”

Glueg and Hedon howled. Hedon wiped the back of his hand across his lips, removing a bit of crust but smearing grease deeper into his red beard.

“If I may.”

They ceased their laughter and turned toward the doorway. In it stood Rafe. His shoulders were squared under the arch, his jawbone wide and smooth.

“Yes, what is it, Rafe?” Enervata said.

“Isolde and I have monitored our bond-recherché as instructed.
There has been a small development. It seems that both of them saw us through reflections in the glass.”

Enervata lifted his chin from his claw and flared his snout, his interest piqued. “They’re evolving. Faster than they should.” This notion quickened his thoughts. He rose taller in his chair. “Did they take note?”

“They did, but dismissed it because they did not understand what they beheld. But there is more. A vagrant decried our existence soon after.”

Enervata furrowed his brow. Though centuries had passed since his last bond-recherché, his memory of it remained all too vibrant. Everything was happening faster this time. The immediacy fascinated him. “A vagrant? I take it our Bruce and Gloria did not listen?”

“No, but Isolde and I thought it prudent to temper our surveillance for the present.”

“Probably wise. Where is Isolde now?”

“Canteshrike Grotto. Shall I beckon her?”

Enervata shook his head. “Another orgy in the ice cave, is it? No, let her feed her lust. But if our bond-recherché has developed this newfound ability, you must proceed with extreme caution.” He stretched his claw toward Rafe. “You tell Isolde as much. Keep yourselves hidden in the course of your surveillance. No more such glimpses. Am I understood?”

“Of course. Might I make another suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“I overheard your previous discussion and I think it might be prudent to send Sileny after the pair-normale instead of the brothers.”

“The would-be bakers? Why Sileny?”

“It has been some time since she has been allowed to take such actions. Because you have taken her mouth, this is the only way she might feed, and she requires sustenance in order to work effectively. The brothers obviously have no deficit of sustenance.”

“Rafe, you bloody canteshrike bastard!” Glueg said with a derisive, drunken snigger. “Sileny needs a morsel, eh? I’ll give that slattern something to feast upon!”

Hedon leered. “That’ll do you no good, you stupid sop. She ain’t got a mouth for that, neither!”

The brothers waved glistening lamb-smeared hands and howled with delight.

“Enough,” Enervata said sharply, unwilling to suffer the petty annoyances he normally permitted. The ruckus settled immediately. “This is the last time, do you understand? I cannot be bothered with these trivialities. After this, the undoing of the bond-recherché becomes our
sole
focus.”

Enervata turned to Sileny, his patience waning. “So be it; you shall have your way with this pair-normale. Send a former lover to the accountant’s home while the cook is away. Let there be flowing wine and music, the ideal
recipe
for lust. Make certain that the cook returns home in the midst of it. And so you may have your meal of broken pair-normale, let there be a weapon nearby, a firearm of some sort that the cook may find handy when she discovers her man in bed with another.”

He turned his back to them, dismissing the lot. “There now; that should fatten you enough to maintain strength for the coming weeks.” He thought of everything Rafe had just told him. “Each of you must excel this time.”

JAMIE CLEARLY DID NOT BELONG HERE. She’d always been a jeans girl and felt like an alien every time she attempted to wear a dress. The one she was wearing tonight had become her emergency standby: loose pink cotton and rayon blend, decent enough. But it pinched at the neck and she found herself checking her knees every five minutes, unaccustomed to seeing them sticking out from under a dress. Something else was off in the outfit, but she couldn’t figure out what.

She scanned the room. Other women seemed more flowing. Gloria’s dress fit her perfectly, not loose, but not tight. Jamie tugged her cardigan closer around her shoulders. She eyed Gloria again and realized she didn’t have on a cardigan; she wore a wrap with her dress. And upon further appraisal, Jamie saw that other women wore wraps as well.

Note to self: get a wrap.

No—scratch that. She only forced herself to dress up once in a blue moon. A cardigan would do fine.

“Why do you keep tugging at your clothes?” Candace asked.

Jamie shrugged. “I just feel so out of place.”

Candace’s gaze darted from side to side, a gesture exaggerated by the thick, Triscuit-sized lenses of her glasses. The square frames matched the square of her jawline and figure, and her hair swung in a simple brown bob. She wore a sensible aquamarine dress. And a wrap.

“I know,” Candace said. “I get real uncomfortable in these places, too. Crowds make me nervous.”

Jamie shrugged. “It’s not so much the crowds as the clothes.”

“Well maybe you should take off that sweater. Looks itchy.”

The two had only known each other since the fiesta a year ago when Jamie’s best friend Bruce had started dating Candace’s best friend Gloria. Jamie thought Candace a little on the skittish side, but they held unique common interests and that meant a great deal to Jamie.

Jamie looked over to Gloria, who was shaking hands and laughing with some very distinguished-looking folks. Jamie could tell they were all perfectly comfortable in their formal wear. And they weren’t sitting at a table like Jamie and Candace. They stood laughing and talking, drifting from group to group.

Jazz played as they waited for the programming to begin, a bass locking its rhythm under an acoustic guitar and drum while a saxophone loped atop the melody. Jamie had been to the museum many times before, but she’d never even realized this lounge existed and had no idea they could close the entire place for a private event. The tables dotted the upper level along the wide circle of railing that opened to the main floor below. Jamie peered down and guessed that the actual programming would take part down there while the guests watched from their tables above. She’d have a clear view throughout the entire performance, including when Bruce’s troupe took its turn.

A few tables away, Bruce appeared, and when he did so, Jamie relaxed a hitch. Conversely, Candace tensed.

Jamie watched Bruce plant a kiss on Gloria’s cheek and greet the other folks as they stood gesturing elegantly with their glasses of wine.

“Maybe we should have some wine,” Candace said with a hand to her brow. “It’ll help us both relax.”

Jamie fiddled with the straw in her soda. “No thanks.” It wasn’t that she didn’t drink; she just didn’t like wine and would have felt stupid ordering a beer amid all this elegance.

Candace eyed Bruce and Gloria. “Well, it’s only a matter of time before I start fidgeting, too, I guess. I always get bored at plays and I hate these sorts of things.”

“I’m actually looking forward to the performances,” Jamie said. “They’re only going to do a twenty-minute excerpt from Bruce’s
production. I’ve been waiting to see it since the company started on it. Bruce talks about it endlessly. It sounds great.”

Candace’s eyes glazed. “I don’t know what I’m even doing here.”

“Oh yes you do. Did you forget who you were talking to?”

Candace looked like she was about to say something, but she bit it back and her eyes suddenly filled. Jamie put a hand to her arm. She was about to ask Candace what was going on with her, but the jazz band wrapped the song and the lights changed. Candace just shook her head and blinked away the moisture.

Jamie looked down to the lower level and saw that the MC was about to begin. Bruce and Gloria threaded their way over to the table and Jamie and Candace stood to greet them. Jamie decided to get rid of her cardigan before they arrived, draping it over her chair.

Bruce clasped Jamie’s hand and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. “Howdy, Tink. I didn’t know Urban Outfitters sold pink dresses,” he said with his trademark wry smile.

She smirked at him. “Thanks. You look very nice, too.”

“Actually, you look great. You should play dress-up more often.”

Their eyes held in an affectionate smile and then Bruce turned to Candace. For a second, Jamie thought he was going to kiss Candace as well, and she saw Candace stiffen. Bruce just smiled at her and said, “Hey, Candace, good to see you.”

Gloria leaned over, kissed her best friend, and then greeted Jamie with a cordial kiss, touching her on the shoulder.

“You look so pretty,” Jamie said.

Gloria’s hand was still resting on Jamie’s shoulder. Now she eyed the back of Jamie’s neck with a mystified expression.