Heart Secret (36 page)

Talk to Randa, first.

“Very well.” He put Randa on his lap, and his hand on her back. She met his eyes.

“Ready?”

Yes, FamMan.

Her trust made him smile. “All right.”

Gently, gently, he linked minds with her.
Think of the big red anger.
She cried out. He petted her. “I am here with you, I will keep you safe.”

I feel you!

Yes. I will keep you safe. Remember the time.
He thought of night sky after midnight, imposed the image of Apollopa Park. With his Flair, he helped retrieve what was being lost.

His vision skewed and colors left . . . except a big red anger. He barely saw the killing, though Randa had watched. He caught glimpses of the murderer, the shape, the anger, the glee in the triumphant dancing in the fountain. Randa's mind zoomed to a different, later memory, one of thundering footsteps and yelling human and kicking at burrow-home. Dirt spurted, soil flew, Randa dropped the odd thing she held and ran.
Huge
pain stabbed her side. She teleported a few blocks away to an old den.

Randa's heart pounded too hard with fear. He drew away mentally. His shirt was damp. “Let the memory go.”

The small raccoon slumped on his lap.

“Great Fam. Great job.”

Randa snuffled and wiped her damp and pointy nose on his trous. He ignored the smear, though Rusby wouldn't like it.

Garrett petted her until she stepped from his lap to the bench. She looked at her dam.

Easy! Not bad.

The elder female chittered but dropped from the tree onto Garrett's shoulder, balanced, then hopped down next to him. She put both her paws on his leg, dug in a little with her claws, enough that he knew she could rip his trous and the skin under them to bloody shreds.

Thirty-five

Y
ou may pet,
said Randa's dam. He brushed her pelt with his palm.
That is nice!

“For me, also.” He kept his body casual, his stroking soft, appreciated the sun and flowering bushes. This, too, was a hidden garden, a little hollow with only the bench and a birdbath. He sensed Sinjin Mugwort spent time here.

I am ready,
the raccoon said mentally, in a calmer voice.

He linked with her, saw the events of the killing from a different angle. One person snuck up on another, raised an arm, and the first fell. Then they were both on the ground and the prey's neck was tilted back. A vial gleamed, liquid was poured into his mouth. His arms were slashed. The killer rose and held the knife high, then dropped it close to the body and went to dance in the fountain.

Time passed. Big red anger left. Left shiny strange thing. Felt bad but was a tool. Raccoons didn't often get tools, things left by humans, in a place where humans didn't come much. Tools humans wouldn't miss.

Randa's mother took the knife, but it felt terrible to her sensitive pads, and she hid it. The sheath didn't feel as bad, but she hid that, too, in a different place.

Later the big red anger came and kicked open the burrow and found the knife and threw it and hurt her kit and all the raccoons scattered. Run! Run! Run!

A moaning squeal knocked the link apart and the raccoon headed back up the tree.

Garrett flinched and his eyes refocused on the birdbath where sparrows splashed.

He stood and crossed to the birdbath, now moving like an old man, his Flair depleted. Bracing his arms on the round rim of the bath, he plunged his head in the bowl and welcomed the cool slap of the water.

His eyes hurt. Leaning over, he propped his arms on his thighs and did some energized breathing. A man was not supposed to stay in another creature's mind for long.

Then he turned back to the mother raccoon, saw her in the tree. “I need to find that sheath. Can you take me to it?” It had felt different to the raccoon, might have left traces of the perpetrator that the knife hadn't . . . since the knife had been stuck in Randa, then thrown into one of the best Healing pools in the land. Physical evidence had been disturbed, and the layers of psychic evidence were being difficult to excavate.

I will do this. And you will take me to meet the Fam Healer, Danith D'Ash.

“Done,” Garrett said.

FAMMAN!
Rusby yelled, then pranced into the glen a moment later, looking incredibly tiny.
I am here! I had breakfast.
He belched.
And I found you all by myself!
He grinned.

The mother raccoon said,
I will meet you in Apollopa Park when the big bell in the city rings again.

Almost a full septhour, seventy minutes.

There was the rustle of leaves and she vanished. Teleported away? Or had she landed on the wall to the city and was running along it? Garrett still didn't know the exact dimensions of the estate, and wasn't quite sure where he was inside the sanctuary or in relation to the city, a situation that dissatisfied him. Being good with directions, knowing where he was, was part of his Flair. And where was the nearest teleportation pad outside the estate? Yet the raccoon seemed to think he had time to head home and reach the park.

I will go with you,
Randa said.

“What?”

My FamWoman is at the Primary HealingHall, and I do not want to be here alone, even though I am getting sleepy. I will go with you.

“You have the Mugworts to look after you,” Garrett pointed out.

Yes, they are my FamWoman's. But you are hers more.

That gave Garrett a funny feeling in his chest. He'd seen the HeartBond when they'd made love. But Artemisia had not offered the golden bond to him, as he'd expected.

It felt odd.

Being a HeartMate felt odd, too. He—they—were just getting used to it. The bond would happen in time when they were ready. Meanwhile, he didn't think Artemisia would be meeting or sleeping with any other men.

He wasn't sure how long this grace period would last, but he'd savor every moment of it. Maybe he could change faster now that the future beckoned with joy.

Garrett scooped up Rusby and forced himself into a fast walk, hoping he could grab a quick breakfast before he gathered his sword and the items for his trous pockets. He didn't look at the temptation of the Healing pool as he went by, much as he'd like to soak a long time and recharge.

He, Rusby, and Randa stopped off at MidClass Lodge for a waterfall and change—naturally the Fams didn't stand under the water, but ate. Randa had sniffed around his apartment before curling up on a chair and had looked a lot more like a wild animal than any cats or dogs he'd entertained.

He knew the public carrier schedules and stepped outside the main door of MidClass Lodge just in time to enter the glider that would pass Apollopa Park. Both Randa and Rusby sat on his lap. The other riders stared at the Fams, particularly the raccoon, and he had a casual conversation.

When the bus stopped at the plinth near Apollopa Park, Rusby scrambled up to his shoulder and Randa perched on the small shelf of his forearm across his chest as they descended.

The public carrier trundled on and Garrett stared at the round park, obviously being groomed for Cinchona's ceremony that evening. Two gardeners worked on the landscape and a lower-level priestess stood in the basin of the fountain, hands raised, cleaning and polishing the mirrors.

A few people lingered to watch the activity, and there were some across the street, too.

Too many humans!
Randa said telepathically.
My mother will be hiding.

Garrett had figured that. It was a good thing he had Randa with him after all.

We are coming here for the ritual later?
Rusby asked, head cocked as he observed the scene.

Since he was sure that Artemisia would attend, Garrett would be there, too, however reluctantly. “Yes.”

Randa scuttled along the curving sidewalk and into the still ragged brush on the far side of the Temple. Though the small round columned building appeared to have had a layer or two of dirt vanquished, the roof still opened to the sky and cracks yet ran through the marble floor. On a closer look, one wall sagged badly. The priest might need an architect to handle the rehab. For some reason, the challenges Cinchona would face made Garrett smile. The man had certainly put him through the wringer the day before.

Thrashing and snuffling and chirping greetings came. Randa had found her mother. Both raccoons spurted from some low and thorny bushes, leaving a bit of fur on them. The older female continued along the back of the park and across the street that looked to divide an upper-middle-class neighborhood from lower.

Garrett followed as the raccoons threaded through unkempt grassyards between homes and buildings until they came to a gulch with a trickle of stream running through the area.

The mother raccoon headed for a tiny cairn of rocks and some dried plants that hadn't survived the heat of the summer.

Garrett slid down the gentle meter of bank and went to where the mother raccoon indicated with a long-pawed gesture. She retreated a meter and sat back on her haunches, clasping her forepaws together.

Randa sniffed at it, then trotted to a large bush, wriggled under it, and curled up.
I want to see!
Rusby said.

“You can't disturb evidence.”

I want to see this cut in the land.

Apparently his Fam had never been in a gully. Garrett detached the small kitten from his shoulder and placed him on the ground. With the dried straw-colored plants and light brown dirt and the dark water, his Fam nearly disappeared. “Be careful,” he said.

Rusby took off running.

Garrett sighed and squatted down. He unstacked the rocks, brushed the dried plant stuff and dirt aside, saw the slight gleam of carved and polished wood. Pulling a collapsible Flaired-cloth evidence vacuum tube from a belt pocket, he flicked it out and into shape, then pried the knife sheath free from dried mud with a twig.

“You should give me that.”

Garrett angled his head and saw the guardswoman Rosa Milkweed standing at the top of the gulch, holding out her hand. She rested the fingertips of her other hand on the hilt of her blazer. She had a pleasant smile on her face, but her eyes appeared a little wild and her outstretched fingers trembled.

He thought fast, and as he straightened and turned, he used Flair to slip the sheath into the tube and seal it.

“Don't!” she said.

“Too late,” he replied mildly, considering how to play this.

“I've been keeping an eye on Apollopa Park and I saw you and the raccoon—the one who took my knife and the sheath.” She pulled her blazer and pointed it at him.

*  *  *

A
rtemisia had finished tending to—and enjoyed talking with—her
fourth case, but the relief in her chest remained huge. She'd been called back to work a full shift at Primary HealingHall. It seemed as if she could breathe again, as if there was still a good road to the future. She murmured a prayer of thanks to the Lady and Lord.

She sent a pulse of happiness down her link to Garrett and noticed he'd narrowed their bond to a filament. Puzzling, then the connection throbbed with his emotions . . . threat, danger.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, blood draining from her head, heart pounding.

He was a trained warrior, a private investigator who must sometimes face danger. What should she do? She had the worst feeling that any action must be immediate.

FamWoman, FamMan is in trouble!
The shrill mental voice was Rusby, Garrett's kitten, sounding terrified.

FamWoman, SEE!
Randa called, and projected an odd vision of Garrett facing a blazer muzzle. The hand that held the weapon wasn't quite steady. Could the person be distracted?

“What is going on here?” barked FirstLevel Healer Ura Heather, and Artemisia realized she was leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

“My HeartMate's in trouble. I must go.”

“WHAT!”

FirstLevel Healer Lark Holly was behind Ura Heather, and Artemisia focused on her compassionate face. “I must leave. Now.”

“If you leave now, your job is forfeit, and I will ensure you will not work in any other Healing facility in Celta.”

Artemisia's stomach coated with acid. “Nothing's as important as my HeartMate. I'm leaving. 'Porting. Step back,” she said, feeling cold.

FAMS, HELP ME VISUALIZE,
she sent to Randa and Rusby. Triangulating with the Fams, trusting their vision, she teleported.

And lost her balance on sloped ground and fell near Garrett's feet. She looked up and saw she'd made herself another target. Damn!

Rosa Milkweed laughed. “Lady and Lord, a Healer coming to save you.”

Artemisia rocked to her hands and feet, turned her head to spit up some nauseating bile, then stood. “I'm sorry,” she said to Garrett.

He nodded. His expression didn't change, but he sent a wave of love to her through the bond. And determination.

They were both determined.

“I know you were the one who killed Modoc,” Garrett said.

Artemisia shivered. She'd made things a whole lot worse.

Trust me,
said Garrett mentally.

She looked at his dear profile, started to link fingers, but he moved his.

No, I need my hands free.

Self-anger tears welled in Artemisia's throat. She'd screwed up. She wiped her sleeve across her mouth. Her Healing tunic was dirty and stained, her hair escaping her braid.

“Not hard to deduce that I executed Eryngo since I'm holding a blazer on you,” Rosa said.

“You recognized Modoc Eryngo,” Garrett stated.

Rosa nodded, tapped her temple. “Part of my Flair, personal identification. No matter how the criminal has changed his appearance or aged, I don't forget a face. One of the reasons I became a guard.” She shook her head and gave a little snort. “His bad luck, really, that I happened to be at the old landing field talking to a friend.” Her eyes glittered. “And I got him. Everyone else missed him, but I got him! Proved myself better than you all.”

“Um-hmm.” Garrett drew out the sound. Then Artemisia heard mentally,
Artemisia, Fams, all we need is a distraction.

Artemisia didn't see either of their Fams, no other person or animal.

Rusby and Randa, go together to find some of my ferals.

Guardswoman Milkweed narrowed her eyes; how much was she sensing? Artemisia shifted her weight, scuffed her feet, and the woman's glance flickered to her. Let the guard think she was stupid and bumbling. She'd come up with something or help Garrett.

I must stay with you!
Rusby said.

Go!

I go!
Randa said.

Then his words really sank in.
A distraction! She could shoot you!
Artemisia sent back.