If they bought land and built, that whole process could take a year or more anyway. Caeran was talking about a large lab, with a separate structure for offices and another that would be a small dorm, essentially, where people working in the lab could grab a shower or a meal or crash for a while without having to drive back to town.
“Manda and Len have drawn up a list of equipment we’ll need,” Caeran said. “If you don’t mind, Steven, I’d like you to look it over and add anything they might have missed.”
“Can you give me a little budgeting guidance? I mean, an electron microscope would be nice, but...”
“I believe that’s already on the list.”
I took a breath. “I need a maximum, because I’m sure I can go over it.”
“All right. Try to stay under ten million dollars.”
I stared, wondering if he was joking. He didn’t look like he was.
Madóran shot Caeran an amused glance, then turned to me. “Financial resources are not an issue. Please ask for everything you can imagine needing. We will let you know if anything you request is beyond our means.”
Cryogenic freezer? DNA sequencing analyzer?
Holy cats.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Pirian made a small noise. Madóran instantly rose and went to him.
That signaled the end of the meal; Caeran and Len stood. I helped clear away the dinner things. Len fixed a plate for Manda in case she hadn’t already eaten, and put it in the oven to keep warm.
I pulled the curtain aside to peek out the kitchen window. The storm had robbed us of a sunset; the sky was ragged, trees swaying. I let the curtain fall and started in on the dishes.
I was just finishing up in the kitchen when a knock fell on the front door, followed by the doorbell. It was Manda and Savhoran. Caeran took them to the table.
“You hungry?” I asked Manda.
She nodded, so I fetched her plate, and brought out tea for the rest of us. Savhoran thanked me with a silent smile. While Manda was eating, Caeran quietly told them what he’d learned that day at the scene of Poppy’s murder.
Manda dropped her fork with a clatter that made me wince. Madóran looked up at her from his chair by the couch. She cussed under her breath, and Savhoran took her hand.
“I’m afraid there’s more bad news,” Caeran said, and told them about Mirali’s request that Savhoran not attend the Evennight celebration.
Savhoran’s face was unreadable. Manda looked ready to explode.
“We’ve got a plan, though,” I said hastily, looking at Len.
She explained her alternate-Evennight idea, though she didn’t sound excited about driving Madóran home.
“I could do that, if you want,” I offered.
Len looked at me. “Actually, I’d rather not see Mirali, so if you don’t mind...”
“I don’t. I’d need directions, though.”
“Madóran can direct you,” Caeran said, watching me.
My motivation was probably obvious, but no one commented on it.
Manda was still simmering. “You know, it’s pretty insulting of Mirali to ask that,” she said.
Caeran nodded. “I will speak to her about it.”
“Are there more Greystones?” I asked.
They all looked at me.
“Back in Europe, I mean—or did all of you come over?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Manda said.
“Just thinking ahead,” I said, glancing at Caeran.
“There are others,” he said quietly. “Greystone is kin-clan to a larger clan. We were given the name when we chose to come here.”
“So Greystone is just you guys, but you have connections elsewhere,” I said.
“Yes.”
Those were the people Mirali would go back to, if she left Greystone. They were also, possibly, a genetic safety net. I wanted to ask how many there were, but it seemed like the wrong time.
Madóran came to the table and greeted Savhoran and Manda. “There is broth with greens, if you wish it,” he told Savhoan.
Savhoran shook his head, lips tight.
“He needs to hunt,” Manda said in a low voice. “We just came over to find out how that one was doing.” She jerked a thumb in Pirian’s direction, frowning again.
“In another day or two, he will be stronger,” Madóran said.
“Good, ‘cause we’ve got questions.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to ask some of them tomorrow,” Caeran said. He told them about our going to look at land tomorrow, and asked if they’d spend the day with Madóran and Pirian.
“Of course,” Savhoran said. Manda frowned, but he looked at her and she gave in with a sigh. “Pirian is still my clan-brother,” Savhoran added. “I will gladly spend the day with him.”
“Well, if we’re going to do that, you’d better hunt.” Manda got up. “Thanks for the dinner,” she said to Caeran.
“Wait,” I said, and she turned.
I fetched the last of the new tablets and gave it to her. “Caeran got us these.”
She brightened. “Cool! Thanks, Caeran! You want my old one?”
“Give it to Lomen,” he said.
She and Savhoran left. Madóran returned to the couch to sit by Pirian, and Len and Caeran went to their room, leaving me alone at the table. I sat finishing my tea, thinking about the next few days.
The house was kind of weird, dark all the time. I could hole up in Lomen’s room and study, or maybe ride down to my apartment and work there.
Evennight was Friday. I figured Thursday night would be our celebration. I had only one class on Friday, not too bad to skip it if I drove Madóran home that day. I could stay for the ceremony up north, so Lomen wouldn’t have to miss it.
A log rolled off the fire, knocking the screen out of line and landing half on the brick hearth, scattering bits of coal onto the wood floor. I jumped up and went to the fireplace, grabbed a pair of tongs that were long and awkward, and managed to get the log back into the fire.
I brushed the flecks of coal off the oak and onto the brick. One was caught in a crack between two of the floorboards. I picked it up and yelped; it was hot—sizzled against my skin. I threw it into the fire and cussed, sticking my thumb in my mouth.
Before I could stand, I heard Madóran’s footsteps. He knelt beside me, saying softly, “Let me see.”
“It’s all right, I can get some ice,” I said, but he took my hand and cupped both of his around it.
I held still, caught by the wonder of him. His presence—his, khi, I suppose—enveloped me like a warm blanket. He didn’t speak to me but he was there with me.
The pain of the burn had vanished the moment he touched me. His hands were cool on mine, like a stream on a hot day. I closed my eyes, quietly reveling in the contact. I forgot to shield, forgot everything except how amazing he was.
Old, old soul. Deep heart, gentle but surprisingly strong. A heart that could care for a killer, though killing was opposite to his purpose.
Gradually I became aware of a shift in his attention. My hand was healed; I knew it because he knew it. His hands were warmer, now, which would have made the burn react if it hadn’t been completely cured. I should thank him, but I was drifting in a state of bliss and afraid to lose it by moving, by speaking.
I felt a smile flash through his khi. My soul shivered in response.
I was on the verge of giving myself to him. The thought made me draw back, made me open my eyes.
His face was lit golden by firelight, flames dancing in his eyes. I smelled pine and spice, warmed by the fire and the heat of his flesh. His smile as he gazed at me sent a tingle through me.
Oh, how I wanted to throw my heart open.
I shouldn’t ... I ...
He withdrew, not quite completely for which I was grateful, because it would have felt like a door slamming. Still, the bliss vanished, and only a tiny thread of contact remained.
Of course. Forgive me, Steven. I would never wish to hurt Lomen, or you.
He gave my hands a gentle squeeze, let go, and returned to the couch and to Pirian.
It took me a few breaths to calm down enough to stand and go to my room.
Lomen’s room. Oh, jeez, I wished he was there.
I
hid in the bedroom the rest of the evening, except for a short trip to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I tried to study but that was pretty hopeless. The text looked better on the tablet than on my phone, but I mostly just stared at it without seeing the words.
I slept poorly. Had a lot of weird dreams. Luckily I didn’t remember any of them the next morning.
I woke before dawn, hearing the front door close. Must be Manda and Savhoran coming back. I drowsed for another half hour, by which time my brain was clamoring at me enough that I gave up and got dressed.
Caeran had bought a mess of fruit at the grocery store. I picked out a cantaloupe and a couple of oranges and sliced them up, leaving the majority on the cutting board while I carried a dish of fruit and a cup of yogurt out to the back patio.
It was chilly. I ate, then went back inside to make tea and coffee. A pot was simmering on the stove: the green soup, reheating. While I was filling the kettle, Savhoran came in and helped himself to some.
Which meant that his hunting had been successful. I wondered what sort of person he’d fed from, what he’d given them as atonement. Man, that must be hard to live with.
I shielded, hoping he hadn’t caught that. If he did, he gave no sign.
Even now, fresh from feeding, he didn’t give me the creeps the way Pirian did. Was his atonement what made the difference?
Madóran came into the kitchen. I paid close attention to measuring the coffee while he helped himself to the fruit.
I really had nothing to freak out about. I told myself not to be a dick.
Madóran was friendly but didn’t push the least bit. Still, I was glad when Len and Caeran came in, crowding the kitchen enough that I had an excuse to leave. I took a mug of coffee to my room and studied—more successfully this time—until Len came to fetch me.
I grabbed a hat, my shades, and my phone and followed her to the garage. Caeran was already in the car.
“Is Manda coming with us?” I asked as I climbed in the back seat.
“No, she wants to study,” Len said.
And to hang out with Savhoran, I figured. Sounded like she didn’t get to see as much of him as she’d like.
Caeran drove to the freeway and headed east, through Tijeras Canyon. Some of the trees there were already starting to turn.
Out of the house, away from the darkened rooms, I began to relax. The weather was clear, and as we drove away from the city I remembered how beautiful the east side of the Sandias was. In contrast to the stark, rugged stone of the west face, the lee side had more gradual slopes that were covered in pine, with patches of oak and, higher up, aspens. Those weren’t a blaze of gold quite yet, but it wouldn’t be long.
Caeran drove south on highway 14, winding through the Manzano Mountains, a lesser chain than the Sandias. Still beautiful woods.
Len was giving him directions from her tablet. I didn’t pay much attention. Soon Caeran pulled off next to a gate that was chained shut.
A hand-painted sign on a board wired to the gate screamed “KEEP OUT!” Beyond, a rutted dirt driveway led down to what looked like a farm: an open, relatively flat meadow, piñon trees scattered along its edges, a one-story house on the south side.
“This is it,” Len said.
Caeran got out of the car and stood gazing at the property. Len got out too, and I followed.
“I had hoped for more woods,” Caeran said.
“I don’t think this is the right area for us,” Len said. “Did you see that sign about land grants? This is old Spanish grant country. They don’t take kindly to gringos moving in.”
Caeran gave her an amused look. “Gringos?”
“You’re a gringo, sweetie. Same as me.”
I walked over to the gate. “I’ve heard of newly built houses being burned down in places like this.”
Len nodded. “Yeah.”
“We would not permit that,” Caeran said. “But I do not wish you two and Manda to have to deal with hostile neighbors. We will try elsewhere.”
We piled back in the car and continued south, passing through a couple of tiny villages. I saw farms, ranches, signs advertising firewood or hay, signs in Spanish. After a while we turned west and started climbing into the mountains. The roads got progressively rougher, and the cloud of dust that kicked up behind us foretold mud in wet weather.
We passed an area that had burned fairly recently. All that was left were the tall, black spikes of tree trunks. A few plants were starting to come back, so it had been maybe a year or two, but nothing taller than a bush was green. When we passed back into living forest, I felt relieved.
The property that was available in the area turned out to be twenty acres of undeveloped forest. Sunflowers grew along the roadside. We got out and walked among the trees: mixed pine and juniper. Dry grasses, knee high, brushed against us, leaving hopeful seeds in our clothing.
Caeran stood gazing up through the trees at the sky. “The land is good, but it’s rather far from the city.”
“Long commute,” I said, nodding.
“No utilities,” Len added. “We’d have to drill a well and set up a solar array.”
“Yes,” Caeran said, “though neither of those is a problem. I am more concerned about the distance.”
“It’s pretty,” Len said, bending to pick a little purple flower.
“We’ll keep this one in mind.”
Caeran headed back to the car. Reluctantly, Len and I followed. I would have loved to spend more time walking there, but there were other properties to look at.
We retraced our route back to the highway and north again, past the burn and the villages and the Spanish grant land. We crossed under the freeway and were now on the back side of the Sandias.
The highway wound through the little town of Cedar Crest. I’d driven through it a couple of times before, on the way to hikes and once on a visit to the former mining town and current hippie art scene of Madrid. We didn’t go that far.
First stop was to the east, another farm-like property much like the first one but without the Spanish grant issue. Caeran wasn’t hot for it, so we moved on.
Driving further north, we turned off into a community of fairly fancy houses, spaced well apart.