Olivia (32 page)

In the considering silence that followed this, the sound of Tina slapping her forehead sounded very loud.

“And I’ll say something else, since I kind of already know how most of you feel about me,” Olivia went on, deliberately not looking at Victoria, but at Amy, who merely looked back at her.  “If someone did believe us and they came looking for this place, if they found it, I only see that ending one way.  And I don’t hate anyone so much that I can wish this whole tribe dead or…or cut open in some secret test facility two miles under Area 51.  I mean, let’s not kid ourselves here, there are only a few ways that an escape can go and not one of them ends with us back in the lives we had.  That’s over.  That’s done.  And being part of this tribe as close as I honestly believe I’m ever going to get to peace and quiet again.  I’m sorry, but that’s just how I see it.”

At last, Tina cleared her throat and grudgingly said, “I can appreciate what you’re saying.  And I guess I could be doing more.”  She gave Olivia a sour glance.  “I think it’s time you talked to your…man about finding us something to do instead of just sitting around like this.”

Victoria loudly protested and Maria muttered something in Spanish, but the other women seemed amenable, so Olivia nodded.  “I’ll do that.”

Tina started to turn away, then abruptly came back.  “I’m really not as bitchy as I’m sure I look,” she said.  “Tobi…my roommate.  She’s here somewhere, I just haven’t seen her, you know?  I’m scared sick for her.”

Olivia nodded again, unable to think of a thing to say.

“This is just how I cope with things without flipping out and popping someone.”  She glanced in the direction of the gullan guards.  “All things considered, I think I’m behaving myself remarkably well.”

“All things considered, I guess we all are,” Olivia said.

“Some of us could sure be better.”  A second dark glance, this time toward Maria.  “But I guess I’m one of them.  I’d just feel a whole lot better if I could see…”  She trailed off, then shook her head hard and looked at Olivia again.  “It’s nothing personal, that’s all I’m saying.  If I snap at you some, I mean.  You’re not saying anything I haven’t thought.  It’s just hard to hear.”

“I know.”

Tina managed an awkward nod, then trudged over to a bench and sat down.  Her shoulders slumped.  She stared at the rock between her feet and said nothing, did nothing.  She looked a lot like Vorgullum in that moment.

“So.”  The dark-haired Ellen tentatively raised her hand again, and when she thought she had Olivia’s attention, lowered it back to clasp the other.  “I heard…talk of killing?”

“It’s true,” Maria said, shrugging. “But killing isn’t the worst thing.  This man who knocked up the furball, they don’t just want to kill him.  They want to take away his soul.”

“I’m surprised no one’s asked you to do it for them,” Karen said, making sure the sarcasm came out clearly.

“Who says they haven’t?”  Maria smirked at them, idly tracing the nonsensical design she’d drawn over her left shoulder.  “And who says I can’t?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, and quite a few of the others exchanged glances and short sighs, but it was Tina, still staring stoically at the ground who said, “You can’t even make a friggin’ cappachino right, you freakin’ moron.”

“You can believe what you want,” Maria said. 

“In that case, I believe I’ve had about enough of your bullshit.”  Tina looked up, just one eye showing through the mess of her unbrushed hair.  “And I believe that if you say another goddamn stupid thing in front of me from this day on, all your devoted followers are going to get treated to the sight of me popping you one in your fat mouth. We’ll see how scary they’ll all think you are when you’re spitting teeth, shall we?”

Maria retreated a little too rapidly to be called a swagger and Tina went back to staring at the floor.

Amy took Olivia’s arm and walked her away from the others.  “My man’s name is Kurlun,” she said conversationally, once they were alone.  Her expression was reserved, difficult to read.  “He told me.  I guess he figured that if Vorgullum could trust you, he could trust me.  That’s a lot of trust.  He also brought me a bunch of rocks, at your suggestion, he said.  Didn’t look too sure of himself, but he sure looked hopeful.”

Olivia waited.

Amy grinned.  “God, I had a blast!  I counted them, I split them into piles, I worked out fractions and percentages and ratios!  I played with those stupid rocks all night.  He must have thought I was out of my head.”

“I’m really glad,” Olivia said, smiling.  “I thought you’d like that.”

“It is a sad, sad thing to have to admit, but that was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Amy said.  “I’m not really a people-person, but I think I could be a good friend.  You’ve got your head on straight, anyway, and I won’t hesitate to kick your ass a little if I think it starts to go wrong.”

“That’s good to know,” she said.  “Really.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve had enough day care today.”  Amy glanced around, scowling.  “I’m going to find my man, and then I’m going home to play with my new rocks.  You can come with me if you want to.”

It should have been a tempting thought.  It really hadn’t been so long ago that Olivia had been, quite literally, crying for human company.  Still, she hesitated, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t enjoying herself the way she’d hoped she would, and in her current mood, being around people wasn’t the best idea.  “Some other time, okay?”

“Yeah, Kurlun told me you’re spending a lot of time with old Murgull.  I don’t envy you that.”  Amy thought about it, then added, “I don’t envy you much of anything, to tell you the truth.  Celebrity sucks.”  And with that, Amy walked away, raising her hand to the guards as she passed them and receiving distracted half-waves in return.

Hearing Murgull’s name struck a chord in her.  Olivia put her hand in her pocket and touched the glass vial with Cheyenne’s potion still in it.  If she did nothing else, she’d really ought to deliver it.

So she went over to the guards, who all stopped talking to watch her approach.  In all three of their strange faces, she saw the same discomfiture, as if they weren’t certain where to look or what to say.  She wasn’t sure if it had to do with being human, being a woman, or just being the leader’s mate, but she supposed she’d better make it quick.

“Do any of you know where I can find Cheyenne?” she asked.

Blank looks.

“She has red hair,” Olivia said, gesturing to indicate length.  “Kind of dark up here, uh, in a stripe?”

“Oh.  Her,” said one.  The other two looked at him, and Olivia received the strong impression that they all three knew exactly who she meant, but if he was the only one dumb enough to admit it, then he could be the only one to deal with her.  Apparently, the speaker got the same vibes.  He bared his teeth a little, but stepped forward.  “I can take your message.”

“I need to speak with her myself.”

“Oh.”  This was obviously a much more palatable option.  “Follow me, then.”

He shouldered his spear, but kept it with him as he headed out into the main passageway, slowing his pace to match Olivia’s stride.  The few gullan moving about gave them room, but apart from curious glances and the occasional raised hand (she was never sure whether the salute was meant for her or her escort, and often had the feeling that the gulla giving it wasn’t entirely certain himself), no greeting. 

The silence felt oppressive, and Cheyenne’s lair was not nearby.  Eventually, Olivia nerved herself up and said, “Do you have a mate?”

“Yes.  Karen.”  He half-turned while walking and stuck out his hand.

Startled, she took it and felt it clumsily squeezed once before he let go.

“Did I do it right?” he asked, and grinned when she nodded.  “I try to do human things.  Karen is…not happy here.  I’m Bodual.  You can have my name,” he went on, motioning her ahead of him down a sloping side-passage.  “Just don’t tell Mojo Woman.”

“She has no real magic,” Olivia said.

“I know, but she still talks to spirits and that means the only spirits who would talk back will be the very worst kind.  Right up there, see?”

What she saw near the end of the tunnel was a male gullan with yet another spear leaning up against the wall beside a chimney.  His wings were withered and his body specked with grey and somewhat gone to fat, but it was clear that he took his duty seriously.  He had brought a small bundle of food with him, as well as a spare candle for light, the 1988
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue to flip through, and a bucket to answer nature’s necessity.

“Has she tried to escape?” Olivia asked.

“She’s tried all sorts of things,” was Bodual’s cryptic reply.  He took the magazine out of the first gulla’s hands and took up a position at the other side of the chimney.

Olivia announced herself with a self-conscious holler up the dark chute, and then climbed on up. 

The first thing she noticed was the mosaic on the floor, then the intricate paintings that covered the walls, and finally the three narrow tunnels leading out of this relatively elaborate entry room.  Whoever Cheyenne’s captor was, besides Vorgullum’s trusted friend, he was obviously very important.  She called out again, and then picked the tunnel which would take her to the sleeping room if this were Vorgullum’s lair and started walking, shining her flashlight ahead of her.

She came to a workshop of some sort, really just an extra wide place in the tunnel with shelves cut into both walls, filled with boxes and tins, stacked stone bowls, several mortars and pestles of varying sizes, and numerous clay pots and jelly jars containing unknown and often pungent liquids.  It reminded her in no small way of Murgull’s secret room.  Another potion maker.  Another
poison
maker, perhaps.  And just beyond the workshop, the tunnel terminated in another waterway, the only other private bathroom Olivia had seen so far.

“What the hell?”

Olivia turned around into the brilliant beam of a flashlight.  She held up her arm, wincing, until the light lowered.  It seemed to take rather longer than she would have thought necessary.  “I hollered,” she said, rubbing at her eyes.

“I thought I heard something.”  Cheyenne looked over her shoulder, and then back at her.  “How did you get in here?”

“I walked past the guard.”

“Figures,” she muttered.  “All right, get out of here, I have to pee.  Take the first right you come to and then the first left and wait for me.”

Olivia obeyed, passing through two more ornately-painted and well-furnished rooms before she came to a sleeping room with a fire burning in its hearth.  The similarities to Vorgullum’s lair were impossible to escape, although these rooms did seem to be somewhat smaller and there were definitely more paintings.  Some of them were the same abstract patterns as could be found on Vorgullum’s walls, but most were action scenes, painted with a few bold strokes in subdued colors for a surprisingly striking effect.  She was deeply involved in what sure appeared to be a mammoth-hunt when Cheyenne came back, so much so that she had to be roused from her study with a not-so gentle shake.

“Make this quick,” Cheyenne said crossly, and sent another glance over her shoulder.  “As bad as things are, they’re going to get a whole lot worse if he thinks I’m conspiring against him.”

Olivia took out the bottle Murgull had given her and handed it over.  Cheyenne took it suspiciously.

“What is it?” she asked, looking as though she were a second or less away from smashing it against the wall.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.”

Cheyenne stared at her, then drew herself up and savagely hissed, “What in God’s name do I need that for?”

“You told me yourself that half of his trouble comes from not being able to—”

“I know what I told you,” Cheyenne snapped.  “This was your solution?  To
help
him rape me?” 

“I already told you, I’m not going to help you kill anyone.  You don’t have to use that,” she said, heading for the door.  “I just thought you might like to have an option.”

“Wait.”  Cheyenne heaved a curt sigh and looked down at the bottle.  “Am I supposed to drink it?”

“You’re supposed to wear it, actually.  Like perfume.  From what I can gather, he won’t know you’re wearing anything either.  Murgull called it a scent they couldn’t smell.  I guess Tina would call it pheromones.  I’m really kind of afraid to know how she bottled them.  And from what.”

“Murgull.”  Cheyenne’s expression grew cooler, more pensive.  She uncorked the bottle and sniffed, then sealed it up again.  She started to speak, and then simply closed her mouth again and stared into the wall.  Her head tipped.  She thought.

“I realize it must seem like pretty backhanded help,” Olivia began.

“Oh, it’s going to help.”  Cheyenne stirred and slipped the bottle into her pocket.  “Actually, I think it’s going to help a lot.  But now you really better scram.  I never know when he’s going to come back and check on me, and he can’t find you here.”

“It won’t always be like this,” Olivia said, knowing what weak comfort those words must be to someone like Cheyenne.

“No, it won’t,” she said.  Then she smiled—a tight, humorless smile, but a genuine one.  “And it’ll all be thanks to you.”

It wasn’t gratitude.  Confused, uneasy, Olivia left.

4

The day passed, not quickly and not always cheerfully, but it passed in human company and that still felt good. Food came promptly at noon—a woven bark basket filled with bread, apples, and a huge wedge of salmon still sizzling in its crispy skin—and tea whenever they emptied the jug. When the light shining down from the mirrors turned golden and began to fade, their guards hung lanterns around the commons so their meeting could continue, but it didn’t last long after that.  One by one, her companions were collected by their gullan mates and taken away, and ultimately, Olivia was alone.  One of the guards—Bodual, the one who belonged to Karen—came over to sit with her while the other two finished up what scraps the humans had left from their last meal.  His good-natured chat was a pleasant way to kill time, but it was just killing time.  Vorgullum didn’t come for her.  He must have decided she could find her own way around by now.  She tried to take this as a show of his faith and not feel, well, forgotten.