Switched: Brides of the Kindred 17 (37 page)

Jorn had even run
her clothes through the washer and dryer—or whatever the Tarsian
equivalent was—for which she was profoundly grateful. It was good
to be clean and have on clean clothes again, though she didn’t
bother with the formal uniform jacket, preferring just to wear
Kerov’s undershirt and trousers.

After her shower and
brushing her teeth, Frankie felt squeaky clean—both inside and
out—but also horribly tired. The slug ice cream had really done a
number on her! But Kerov’s best friend wasn’t going to take no for
an answer. He wanted to know what was going on. And after the way
he’d stood by her at the banquet, Frankie honestly felt she owed
him an explanation.

Now they were
standing in the living room of Jorn’s house and he was staring at
her intently.

“
Tell me,” he said again.

“
All right,” she said, looking for someplace to sit. “Let’s
talk. Um—do you have anything I can sit on that won’t molest
me?”

“
Molest you?” He looked at the sensu-chairs in the middle of
the floor. “Oh—I see what you mean. Certainly.”

He flipped a switch
and suddenly a low bench covered in gray cloth flipped out of the
wall. Jorn seated himself and looked expectantly up at Frankie.
“Well?”

“
All right.” Frankie took a deep breath, hoping she was doing
the right thing. “Here’s the thing…I’m not actually
Kerov.”

“
I
know,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for some time.”

Frankie’s heart sank. “Is it
that
obvious?” she asked. “I mean, I’m that bad at
impersonating him?”

“
No.” Jorn shifted and looked down at his hands. “I just know
Kerov very well because, well, I care for him. Deeply. More…” He
cleared his throat. “Much more deeply than I should.”

“
You…” Suddenly his words and their meaning sank in. “Oh…”
Frankie whispered. Reaching out, she put her hand over Jorn’s.
“You
love
him, don’t
you?”

He looked up
quickly. “I…that’s not a State-approved emotion for one male to
have about another.”

“
But you have it for Kerov, don’t you?” Frankie asked softly.
When she thought about it and examined Kerov’s memories, it all
made sense. Jorn was always so eager to talk about his exploits at
the State run brothels and his sexual encounters with his assigned
partner but Kerov had never actually
seen
him do any of the things he bragged about. Then there
was the huge silver tank he drove—an obvious extension of his
masculinity but really just a smoke screen for his real
feelings.

He
definitely protests too much,
Frankie thought, looking at the unhappy cast of
Jorn’s dark purple eyes.
He’s probably been in love with Kerov for years. How
sad!

“
Well?” she said gently when Jorn didn’t answer
her.

“
Yes,” he said haltingly. “Yes, I…care for him in that way.”
He sighed. “And now I know for certain that he can never care for
me or return my feelings. Not that it is allowed here on
Tarsia.”

“
What makes you say that?” Frankie asked, although she was
pretty sure he was right. She’d been inside Kerov’s head for some
time now—she could tell he was straight as an arrow.

“
Because—you’re female. Aren’t you?” Jorn looked at her almost
accusingly.

Frankie shifted
uncomfortably. “Well…yes. Yes, I am.”

“
I
know the tales of the Switch Kindred,” Jorn said. “When a male
switches bodies with a female it is because she is the one he loves
above all others. The one he is meant to bond with for
life.”

“
What?” Frankie frowned. “Kerov never told me that. I don’t
think that’s true at all. We just sort of got Switched by
accident.”

“
That doesn’t matter,” Jorn said darkly. “A switch between
male and female almost always presages a permanent bond between
them.”

“
But…but I hardly know Kerov,” Frankie protested. But even as
the words left her mouth she knew they weren’t true. She might not
have known the big Kindred for long but she did know him
intimately, in a way no one else ever could. She had literally
walked in his shoes—well, boots anyway—and had seen into his mind.
True, some of the “filing cabinets” there were still firmly locked
but Frankie had seen enough to know that he was honorable,
courageous, and kind.

“
Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not Kerov’s type
any more than you are,” she told Jorn wryly.

“
His ‘type?’ But you are female.”

“
Yes, but I don’t look anything like Kerov’s ex—Xirnah,”
Frankie told him. “I’ve got a lot more junk in the trunk for one
thing. And I’m not blonde.”

He frowned. “I don’t
know what ‘junk in the trunk’ means.”

“
It means I actually have an ass and hips.” Frankie put a hand
on her hip to demonstrate—but it didn’t really work since Kerov was
so lean and muscular.

“
Oh.” Understanding flooded Jorn’s face. “That’s too bad.
Xirnah
is
the Tarsian
ideal.”

“
So I’ve been told,” Frankie muttered. Despite the sexual
encounters she and Kerov had shared, she was still well aware that
she didn’t look a thing like his “ideal mate.” And anyway, even if
he
had
been interested, it
wasn’t like they could be together. They lived hundreds of
thousands of light years apart.

“
Well, at least you’re privileged to share some degree of
intimacy with Kerov,” Jorn said, breaking her train of thought. “So
you know he is an honorable male—one who does not deserve to be
treated as he was tonight at the banquet.”

“
You really stuck by me in there.” Frankie squeezed his hand
again. “Even though you knew I wasn’t Kerov—thank you.”

He shrugged his
narrow shoulders. “It was the least I could do to take care of my
friend when he could not take care of himself.” He looked at her
curiously. “Where is he now, if you don’t mind me asking? Is he in
your body as you are in his?”

“
Yes, I’m pretty sure he is.” Frankie sighed. “He was with me
right up until we started the banquet and then he just disappeared
somehow. Actually, I’m really worried about him.”

“
You need to contact him,” Jorn said.

“
I
can’t unless he suddenly pops back in my head—or his head, I mean.
Anyway, what we really need is to find a way to Switch back
permanently. Kerov told me he knew some people he thought might
help him but he didn’t want to bother them unless there was no
other way. And then he got pulled away before he could tell me who
they were.”

Jorn looked thoughtful. “I
think
I might know the people he was talking about.”

Frankie looked at
him hopefully.

“
Do you? Can you please point me in the right direction? Kerov
is a wonderful guy but I’m really tired of being stuck in his body.
Like
really
tired. And I’m sure he’s
sick of being in mine too.”

“
I
can do better than pointing you in the right direction.” Jorn rose
and clapped his hands together. “I can take you to
them.”

* *
* * *

Kerov sank down on
Frankie’s bed, exhausted. He knew he ought to take a shower—he was
a mess. But he could barely make himself move.

What a night…

It
had started almost as soon as he had come in the door at Frankie’s
mother’s domicile. Her mother had dragged him aside and started
extolling the virtues of Carlos, who was leaning against one wall,
watching hopefully. Then her grandmother or
abuela
had taken over. She had reminded Kerov that
Frankie and Carlos were still married in the eyes of the Earth
deity and that it was wrong for them to live apart. She said most
of this in Spanish, but Kerov found he was able to access the
language in Frankie’s mind and understand it quite easily. Not that
he wanted to—he was thoroughly sick of hearing how perfect Carlos
was in any language.

After that,
Frankie’s grandmother had begged him to come into the kitchen and
eat. Glad to do anything that didn’t include hearing the many
virtues of the smirking Carlos, Kerov agreed. To his delight, he
saw that meat was on the menu—lots and lots of it.

“
Here you go,
nieta,”
Frankie’s
abuela
cooed.
“I made your favorite—
ropa vieja.”

According to Frankie’s knowledge, this translated into “old
clothes.” But despite the strange name, the food in the large pot
looked and smelled delicious. It was some kind of shredded flesh in
a spicy red broth that reminded Kerov of
charnix
stew.

“
Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, as Frankie’s
abuela
loaded a large bowl with
the stuff. “This looks delicious!”

“
I
made it just for you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” the
old lady said proudly. “Go on,
nieta—
eat it up.”

Kerov did, enjoying every savory mouthful. After he finished,
Frankie’s grandmother urged him to try some
puerco asado
which was also wonderful. Then some ham
croquettes and some homemade
chicharones.
Kerov ate until he thought he might burst, delighted
to finally find some real food that didn’t taste disgusting here on
Earth. In between, he drank sips of sangria, a delicious, fruity
alcohol beverage that one of Frankie’s relatives had
made.

He tried to be
careful with the alcohol, remembering the night before. But Kerov
was certain that his belly was so full of meat he wouldn’t have any
problems metabolizing the sangria. He appeared to be right, too—he
felt perfectly sober—if extremely full—by the time he finished
eating.

It wasn’t until
later in the evening when the trouble started. Frankie’s mother’s
little house was crowded and warm inside and the vast quantities of
meat Kerov had eaten were sitting heavy on his belly. He considered
leaving but he worried that Frankie’s family might think it strange
for her to go so soon. Besides, Lacy was laughingly practicing her
Spanish with one of Frankie’s sisters and didn’t appear ready to go
yet.

Kerov decided to
take a walk outside and breathe in the cool night air. He thought
it might settle his stomach which, to be honest, was feeling worse
and worse. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gone three steps outside the
domicile before he found he was not alone.

“
Hello,
mi
corazon,”
Carlos
crooned in his ear, snaking his arm through Kerov’s. “Have I told
you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“
Get away from me.” Kerov shook off his arm with irritation.
“Go and leave me alone.”

But Carlos was not
so easily put off.

“
Come on now,
mi amor
—you
know how sad it makes me when you’re mean,” he cooed, putting an
arm around Kerov’s waist.

“
I
said…get…
away.”
Kerov
turned and pushed the other male in the chest with all his might.
What he really wanted was to punch the bastard in the face but he
didn’t want to cause a scene with Frankie’s family.

Carlos stumbled but
didn’t go down.

“
Aww, c’mon now,” he smirked, coming back and putting his arm
around Kerov’s shoulders. “Don’t fight it. You know we’re going to
get back together—your whole family wants us to. And deep down, I
know
you
want us to,
too.”

He managed to get a
grip on Kerov’s upper arms and pulled him in for a kiss.

Kerov struggled
grimly, both his temper and his gorge rising. Damn it, he was so
tired of this bullshit from males and so tired of being too weak to
fight it off the way he wanted to!

Frankie was strong for a female but she was still a female.
Kerov missed his own male strength. If he’d been in his own body,
he would have flattened Carlos with one punch. As it was, he
couldn’t even break away. The other male’s fingers were biting into
his upper arms and his big, stupid face was getting closer and
closer. There was a chunk of
ropa vieja
stuck between his front teeth and the sharp scent of
his cheap cologne stung Kerov’s nostrils, making his stomach twist
and roll.

Desperate, he consulted Frankie’s store of information—what
should he do?
Knee
him in the balls,
whispered a thought in his head. It wasn’t Frankie—it was just
one of her memories—but Kerov acted on it immediately. Hiking up
his leg, he drove his knee into Carlos’s balls as hard as he
could.

“
Ow! Oh, you
bitch!”
Carlos howled, sinking to the ground and clutching his wounded
sack.

“
You deserved it,” Kerov said through gritted teeth. Though it
wasn’t something he would have done in a fight in his own body, he
felt it was justified here. Frankie’s body was smaller and weaker
and this idiot had refused to take no for an answer. He just wished
that the abrupt action hadn’t jostled his belly. More and more he
was sorry he had eaten so much. He was beginning to feel
nauseous—
extremely
nauseous.