Heart Search (29 page)
On three. One, Laev T’Hawthorn, two, Brazos cat, three!
They arrived in his bedroom, Brazos leapt from his shoulder, and Laev disposed of his clothes, picked up the pistol box again.
They arrived in his bedroom, Brazos leapt from his shoulder, and Laev disposed of his clothes, picked up the pistol box again.
He padded to the corner and a hidden panel, Brazos twining around his calves, purring. Laev opened a piece of molding and pressed the fingertip indentations in the proper sequence. The panel slid aside and he stepped into an omnivator that would hold five. Brazos slipped in. His loud purr echoed in the space. The door slid shut and Laev opened a shallow hidden drawer, took out the petrified thorn, and pricked his finger, let three drops of blood drip to the floor.
Brazos stared at the red droplets that faded to brown and disappeared. The omnivator slanted down and southeast. When it stopped, Laev splayed his hand, blood welling again from his finger, against the door. It opened, they stepped into a space equal to that of the omnivator. When the doors closed behind them, Brazos gave a squeak.
Where are we going?
Where are we going?
HouseHeart,
Laev replied.
Laev replied.
Like Darjeeling’s HouseHeart?
Laev snorted.
Not quite. This is a REAL HouseHeart, the core intelligence of the Residence.
Not quite. This is a REAL HouseHeart, the core intelligence of the Residence.
Brazos yawned, set his front paws on the ground, and did a whole-body stretch, tail up.
Once again Laev set his hand on a door—this one dark planks set between two small golden pillars that appeared like spiral-carved maypoles. He repeated a short, guttural sentence. The spell-words were a mixture of antique Celtan and ancient Earthan. With a long, low creak the door swung back.
Laev braced himself. He hadn’t been here as often as he should have. Would the HouseHeart scold? He was never quite sure how much of the HouseHeart was in the main Residence awareness—probably all. But the place had a different voice.
“Greetings, Huathe Laev Oak Grove Hawthorn, GreatLord T’Hawthorn.”
No sarcasm, good. Laev’s shoulders eased.
Brazos bounded in.
Greetyou!
He skidded to a halt just before he fell into the bubbling turquoise hot pool, squealed as he tumbled backward.
Greetyou!
He skidded to a halt just before he fell into the bubbling turquoise hot pool, squealed as he tumbled backward.
“Greetings, Fam Brazos.” The tones were rough, again the words oddly shaped. The resonant gruff voice old, old, not changed in centuries.
“Greetyou, HouseHeart.” Laev bowed and stepped into the place, put the pistol box on a small table by the door. It fit well there. The door creaked shut behind him and the light that emanated from the pale marble walls brightened.
Not at all like Darjeeling’s HouseHeart. Long ago the Hawthorns had smoothed the underground walls, facing them in sheets of light green marble. Once again, between the stone slabs were small moldings of gilded wood, carved in a spiral pattern. Above them was a faceted and domed ceiling of rock crystal, giving the impression of filtering light from a sunny day.
The room was more like a temple than a place deep beneath the soil of Celta, though the chamber was rectangular, not circular like Celtan temples.
Under his soles, the dark brown flagstones were gently warm. Laev sighed as he crossed to the pool and slipped into its steaming depths. Again, it was large enough to hold five and the mosaic on the bottom of the tub showed a pentacle of green set in white stone.
Brazos paced cautiously around the room, sniffing at the clumped Hawthorn bushes planted in one corner, scratched at the dirt . . .
“Don’t you piss on those!” Laev cautioned. Good, his brain was still working even though it felt woolly.
His Fam lifted his head, moved on, just as if he hadn’t considered that.
“It is good to have you here again, Laev,” the HouseHeart said.
Again, no judgmental tone.
“I should have come sooner, and more often,” Laev said.
“Why didn’t you?” asked the HouseHeart.
“I’m sure you know.” Laev sat on an underwater bench, let the herbal liquid swirl around him, leaned his head back against a soft neckroll. “I missed coming here with my FatherSire, and . . .”
“And?”
Easier to talk about old hurts than the new one he was still processing. “I felt bad about the mistake I made in wedding a woman who was not my HeartMate. Who wasn’t worthy of being a Hawthorn.” Here he could lay out a hard line of words like nowhere else in the world.
There was a deep gurgle of the pool as the HouseHeart answered. “You are, of course, the only T’Hawthorn or D’Hawthorn who has ever made a bad mistake.”
Laev winced.
“Did not your FatherSire compete with the Hollys and hold a grudge so long that it became an obsession and a feud?”
Yes!
Brazos hissed.
Brazos hissed.
“Did not that feud cost several Hawthorn lives? Your own father’s life?”
The water in the pool had heated and roiled enough that it threatened to drown him. Laev slipped out to move over to a towel-covered bedsponge.
“Well?” the HouseHeart prompted.
“Yes. But my wife stole from us.”
“So did your FatherSire. He stole lives from the Family.”
Laev swallowed.
“Nivea Hawthorn stole nothing from me,” said the HouseHeart.
“She wasn’t often here.” Hadn’t liked visiting the HouseHeart with Laev. Because she knew she wasn’t a good Family member?
“No favor tokens are gone. No ancient Family artifacts. All else is of no importance.”
So his FatherSire had thought, too, protecting Laev. But he still felt he had to make right what was stolen from the Family due to his bad judgement. “I brought the pistols back.”
“We are glad to note that; they were much loved and used by past Hawthorns. We have always been a Family of good shots.”
A nice, distracting, thought. “Really?”
“Yes. You might want to reopen the shooting gallery.”
“Didn’t even know we had one,” Laev said.
“I will inform the Residence.”
“Good.”
With another purr, Brazos leapt onto the bedsponge and curled up at the end. The air around them heated and drowsiness crept up on Laev.
“And you have brought a good Fam into the Family—”
“Yesss,” Brazos articulated.
Laev was drifting into a doze.
“And will soon bring a good HeartMate.”
That jolted him from lethargy. He’d learned of his HeartMate tonight, turned her down. Which, on the face of it, was stupid, but not something he wanted to remedy if his gut said to withdraw.
His gut said to run, his body whispered need.
Scented herbs swirled in the air. “Sleep, Laev,” said the HouseHeart.
So he did.
F
or once Camellia didn’t take the public carrier home. Her little house
wasn’t the sanctuary it had been. Nor did she want to speak of the fresh wound to her friends. She wanted to brood on it first. So she hopped on a transport and a few minutes later went through the back door of Darjeeling’s HouseHeart and sat at a table in the middle of the room next to the gently chiming fountain.
or once Camellia didn’t take the public carrier home. Her little house
wasn’t the sanctuary it had been. Nor did she want to speak of the fresh wound to her friends. She wanted to brood on it first. So she hopped on a transport and a few minutes later went through the back door of Darjeeling’s HouseHeart and sat at a table in the middle of the room next to the gently chiming fountain.
The dark closed around her, cozy and comforting, with a few aromatic firefly glows of light from the incense sticks before the Lady and Lord.
The Lord statue that Laev had given her. She made out the vague shape of stone, then turned her back on it.
Her shoulders lowered and she propped her face in her hands. Tonight had brought forward all her fears for her to face, and she had failed. In one moment, one instant, she had failed.
And the thought of claiming a HeartMate still sent her into a downward spiral of disturbing emotions.
While the recollection of her dream lover’s, Laev Hawthorn’s, her
HeartMate’s
hands on her body brought wild sensations of echoed ecstasy.
HeartMate’s
hands on her body brought wild sensations of echoed ecstasy.
She rubbed her face and stood. Tea sounded excellent, a blend of hybrid Earthan chamomile and Celtan paleleaf. She brewed a cup and tidied up. Then returned to her seat to close her eyes and drink, and let the atmosphere of her place wash over her.
Quiet cheer, that was the feeling she got from her surroundings. Patrons happy to be here, servers happy with their work.
It was enough to have her relaxing further. This she’d built with her own hands. There was something to be said for being independent, not part of a couple, a HeartMated couple where one was bonded so close to the other.
The tea was good, just enough sweet on her tongue.
And she wasn’t alone. She had Mica, who was exploring the room, staying away from the fountain and any stray droplets of water. Camellia had her close friends, Glyssa and Tiana.
She sat for a long while letting the peace and satisfaction of
her
place fill her with accomplishment, soothe her with the knowledge that she brought good food and good tea into others’ lives.
her
place fill her with accomplishment, soothe her with the knowledge that she brought good food and good tea into others’ lives.
A tapping came at her door and she froze, then sank into her balance, breathed deeply in and out, and prepared for fighting. Light-footed, she prowled to the peephole of the door. Sent out her senses to the person beyond . . .
It’s Teacher!
Mica said, prodding her forepaw against the door.
Mica said, prodding her forepaw against the door.
Acacia?
Camellia asked telepathically.
Camellia asked telepathically.
Yes, it’s me,
Acacia said.
Acacia said.
What are you doing here?
There was hesitation on her teacher’s part, then a sigh.
It’s so very female.
It’s so very female.
What?
There’s a piece of furniture in a shopwindow that I drop by to look at for my new social club.
A humorously sly note came into her mind.
Why don’t I show it to you?
A humorously sly note came into her mind.
Why don’t I show it to you?
All right,
Camellia answered.
Camellia answered.
And, um, do you have any strong caff?
Camellia unlocked and dropped the spellshields on the door, opened it for Acacia. “Just a minute and I’ll bring you some.”
It took no more than a couple of minutes before Camellia and Acacia were walking down the street, Mica trotting beside them.
“Nice night,” Acacia said.
“It is, I think spring is finally here and summer’s just ahead.”
“Good night for the Great Labyrinth Fair.”
“I suppose so,” Camellia said. She really didn’t want to think of it.
“I’ve never been,” Acacia said. “Not much of one for walking around and meditating.”
“Me, neither,” Camellia agreed.
About a half block down, Acacia stopped at a bright window.
“Oh,” Camellia breathed.
“Yup, thought you might like something in here, too.”
“It’s the wardrobe.”
“Huh. I like the cupboard. The wardrobe looks a little fancy for you.”
Camellia sipped her drink. “For the teahouses, sure. But for home . . .” She thought of the wall in her bedroom with her safe that her uncle had vandalized twice, willfully destroyed. If she moved the bed over a bit closer to the other wall, this beautiful piece would fit. She sidled closer to the window to check the price, sucked in a breath through her teeth. If she got the piece, she and Mica would be on a strict budget for months, emptying the no-time of food she’d already prepared. And that was counting on the Teahouse and HouseHeart continuing to do well.
I like it,
Mica said.
Shelf on top behind fancy wood looks nice and wide. I could have a good sleep spot.
Mica said.
Shelf on top behind fancy wood looks nice and wide. I could have a good sleep spot.
Mentally, Camellia rearranged her ideas for the wardrobe, included Mica. It would work for both of them.
“So, you think the cupboard would fit in well with our plans for the social club?” Acacia said.
Tilting her head, Camellia visualized the space they’d planned. “I think it would be perfect.”
Breath whooshed from Acacia, and she grinned. “I’m no good at these things, and I can’t afford a decorator.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You and me are doing a trade,” Acacia reminded Camellia. “I got you into the Green Knight. You’re doing well, by the way. Didn’t embarrass me tonight. Should make the next level in a couple of weeks.”
Other books
Double Agent by Peter Duffy
Book 2 - Daemons Are Forever by Simon R. Green
The Maid's Quarters by Holly Bush
The Ghosts of Anatolia by Steven E. Wilson
MacNamarasLady by N.J. Walters
The Knight and the Seer by Ruth Langan
Lessons in French by Laura Kinsale
The Scalp Hunters by Reid, Mayne
Lady of the Star Wind by Veronica Scott
Bloodchild by Octavia E. Butler
