Forever Page 10

  The hallway smelled of hot bread and coffee. Amanda was in the kitchen scooping batter out of a mixing bowl into a waffle-maker. There was a bowl of sliced strawberries on the counter and another of whipped cream, plus a carafe of hot maple syrup.

  There was tea, too—there was always tea—and I took some of that, not wanting coffee that moment. Lomen filled a mug with tea and chugged half of it, then refilled it.

  “They’re keeping warm in the oven,” Amanda said, leaning against the counter with both hands around a mug. Beside her, the waffle-maker gently steamed.

  Lomen was still focused on his tea. I grabbed a plate and opened the oven, took two off a stack of Belgian waffles, and put one of them on a plate for Lomen. I added berries and some syrup to mine, pretending to be virtuous by skipping the whipped cream. Lomen slathered his waffle with butter, berries, cream and then syrup.

  Ælven probably had great metabolisms, too. I’d only met a handful, but none of them were fat.

  We shuffled out to the dining nook, where Len and Caeran were sitting.

  “Morning,” Len said, cutting a bite of waffle. “Sleep well?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I’m not much for conversation in the morning. I took a swig of tea and started in on my breakfast. It was wonderful, just like every other meal I’d had in that house. I watched Lomen wolf down his waffle and get up to get another. He looked a little better.

  Caeran’s gaze followed him, and I realized he was waiting for a report.

  Well, not my place to give it to him. I wiped up syrup with the last bite of my waffle and sat sipping my tea.

  Lomen returned with a slightly less heaped plate. I got up to fetch more tea for both of us. I could hear Caeran’s voice, low and questioning, not in English, from the other room.

  I took Lomen his tea. He and Caeran stopped talking, and I decided I was a third wheel, so I took my own tea out to the back porch. The air was cool out there, enough to raise goosebumps on my bare legs. I sat in a lounge chair and huddled with my mug.

  I heard the screen door open and glanced up at Len as she joined me.

  “There are more waffles,” she said.

  “No, thanks. One was perfect.”

  She sat in a chair and gazed out at the yard. “Less than two weeks to Evennight.”

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “It’s the equinox. The ælven celebrate the equinoxes and solstices—those are their big traditional holidays.”

  “Oh, I see.” Even-night. And I’d even taken Latin in high school. Duh.

  “It’ll be good to see Madóran. We haven’t been up there in a while. You’re invited, of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  “There’s a little ceremony but it’s mostly a party. A clan gathering.”

  “I see.”

  “You can skip the ceremony if you want, or just watch. It would be nice if you came, though—Amanda and Savhoran are going to cup-bond.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It’s a committed relationship. It lasts for a year, and then you can renew. Caeran and I are cup-bonded.”

  “So, sort of a practice marriage?”

  She tilted her head. “Practice isn’t quite the right word. It’s a genuine commitment, it’s just short-term. The only other form of formal commitment the ælven have is a handfasting, and that’s for life, so it’s rare.”

  “Divorce is a dirty word?”

  “It’s a non-existent word, for them. If you don’t keep a pledge you’re in violation of the creed.”

  “They take this creed pretty seriously, I gather.”

  “Very seriously.”

  “Is it written down anywhere?”

  “I have a copy I made from one of Madóran’s books, but it’s in ælven.”

  I turned my head to stare at her. “You speak ælven?”

  “I’m learning. Manda is, too, a little. It’s not an easy language, though some of our words are borrowed from it.”

  A hummingbird came up to a feeder hanging from the pergola. We watched it take tentative sips, hovering and keeping an eye on us, then finally settle onto a perch and start chugging the nectar.

  “So do you understand the creed?” I asked. “I’d like to know more about it.”

  “I understand most of it, I think. You know, I ought to try doing a translation. It would be a good exercise.”

  “I’d like to read that.”

  “Maybe I’ll start on it today. It’s kind of long.”

  A second hummingbird flew up, had a sharp discussion with the first one, then they both settled down to drink.

  “So, the ælven don’t get married? I mean like we do.”

  “They marry humans, sometimes. Caeran was married a couple of centuries ago.”

  I looked at her, surprised. “Caeran?”

  She nodded. “It’s a sad story. She couldn’t handle his immortality. Couldn’t handle getting older while he stayed the same. After she died he kept track of their kids, and their grandkids, but after a couple of generations he stopped. They had no connection to him, so it was just a painful reminder.”

  “Does it bother you, knowing that?”

  “You mean am I jealous? She died over two hundred years ago.” She finished her tea and set her mug down. “If I started worrying about his past loves I’d drive myself nuts. I don’t think he even knows how many he’s had.”

  I took a swallow of tea. I should probably emulate her attitude.

  “He entered her culture for her sake,” Len said. “I don’t think she really understood what a gift that was. I’m going to make sure I don’t take him for granted in any way.”

  “They’re amazing,” I said softly.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We have to save them.”

  She met my gaze. “Yes.”

  That was probably the moment when I fully committed myself, heart and soul, to the Ebonwatch project. We made a silent pact, Len and I. We’d give our lives to this.

  The screen door banged open. The hummingbirds flew away. Amanda came out, coffee mug in hand, and sat on the other side of Len.

  “They still talking?” Len asked.

  Nose in her mug, Amanda nodded.

  “Something must have happened.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Lomen told me they didn’t find anything last night.”

  “They searched all night,” Amanda said. “They didn’t get back until almost dawn. Savhoran’s still got my car; he didn’t have time to drop it off.”

  Len gave her a concerned look. “Well, if you need to go out there’s our car.”

  Amanda shrugged.

  I wondered how I could help her break out of her bad mood, then decided it was probably something she needed to work her way through. I finished my tea and got up.

  “Think I’ll ride down to my place. Looks like I’m going to need some more clothes.”

  “We have a washer and dryer,” Len said.

  “Thanks, but washing the same ten garments every three days will get old, I think. Besides, I could use the exercise.” I paused by Amanda’s chair. “Anything I can get for you while I’m out?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I went in the house, rinsed my mug, then rinsed the other stuff in the sink and put it all in the dishwasher. Caeran came in as I was finishing.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Least I can do.”

  Lomen brought in his empty plate and mug. I rinsed them and loaded them in the machine, then started it washing.

  “I’m going to ride home and get some more clothes.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “I thought you needed to rest.”

  I caught Caeran’s eye. He was frowning a little.

  “It’s broad daylight,” I said to Lomen. “It’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine.”

  Lomen looked at me, eyes tense at the corners, then suddenly he relaxed. “You are right. I’ll rest until you’re back.”

  I
followed him down the hall to get my wallet from his room. I stuffed that and my phone into my pockets, pulled the remaining t-shirts and socks out of my bag and stacked them on top of the dresser, then sat on the bed to put on my shoes.

  Lomen sat beside me and sighed. His arm slid around my waist.

  “You really are exhausted.”

  I’m getting better.

  I looked at him, wondering if he was familiar with Monty Python.

  Who?

  Comedy troupe. Doesn’t matter.

  I finished tying my shoes and leaned over to kiss him.

  Rest up. I’ll be back soon.

  You’d better. You owe me a backrub.

  Yes, sir!

  I grabbed my shades and put them on, gave Lomen a quick hug, then picked up my bag and went out. On my way down the hall I shielded.

  I let myself into the garage, took note of the laundry room at the back of it, and opened the garage door. My bike was against the far wall. I wheeled it out onto the driveway, left it there while I dashed back and hit the button to close the door, then ducked out. Strapped my empty bag on the back, put on my helmet, and mounted.

  The day was already warming up. The ride was an easy downhill in this direction. Traffic was busy on a beautiful September Saturday. I kept an eye out for inattentive drivers and got to my place without incident.

  As I wheeled my bike up the sidewalk I noticed a piece of paper taped to my door. Just a sheet of copy paper, with “FAGGOT” written on it in black marker.

  = 8 =

  I stood fuming, my gut twisting. I leaned the bike against the wall and pulled off the sign. I was about to crumple it, then changed my mind.

  I could hear music playing faintly from the neighbor’s apartment. I stepped over to her door and knocked.

  She answered in leggings and a Lobo football jersey, hair pinned up in a tousled mop. I smelled a hint of window cleaner. I put on my best manners.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “Did you happen to see who put this on my door?”

  I showed her the sign. Her surprise seemed genuine.

  “No,” she said. “God, who would do that?”

  “OK, thanks,” I said, folding the sign in half. I started back to my place.

  “Hey—“

  I turned back, waiting. She took a couple of steps closer, leaving her door open.

  “The police were here a couple of days ago, asking about you.”

  “Yeah. I found a body on campus Wednesday.”

  “That was you? Oh, how awful!”

  “If they come around again, you can tell them I’m staying with friends. They have my phone number.”

  “OK. Gee, I’m really sorry!”

  “Thanks.”

  I was about to turn away again, then decided some public relations work was in order. I tried to dredge up her name from when we’d first met.

  “Say—Mary, right?”

  “Carrie.”

  “Carrie, sorry. Listen, if you don’t mind, I have a plant that needs watering. Could I bring it over for you to take care of for a while? I may be away for couple weeks.”

  “Sure!”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I let myself in my place, brought the bike in, threw the sign on the floor, and fetched a neglected spider-plant from the window. It had been a gift from a guy I’d dated briefly the previous year.

  I brought the plant, including the pie plate that sat underneath the pot, over to Carrie’s place and knocked. The door wasn’t latched; it creaked open a little. She came back and opened it, smiling as she reached for the plant.

  “Oh, how cute! How often should I water it?”

  “Twice a week. Thanks, I owe you.”

  She blushed and smiled, confirming a suspicion I’d had. I gave her a polite smile as I stepped back.

  “Take care.”

  “You too.”

  I went back to my apartment, carefully closed the door, and took off my helmet. Then I picked up the sign and methodically tore it into sixty-four pieces, which I threw in the kitchen trash. That was smelly, so I took it out to the dumpster and put a fresh bag in the can.

  So Carrie hadn’t put up the sign, unless she was a really good actress. The apartment on the other side was vacant last I knew, but it was the start of the semester. Maybe an anti-gay student had moved in.

  I stood in the middle of my front room, still fuming. I’d always considered this place my retreat. I was paying more for it than I probably should, but it had been a haven for me. Now it no longer felt safe.

  I looked around the room, deciding whether anything there was so important I’d regret losing it. The furniture was unremarkable. I had one framed art poster that I really liked, an Amado Peña. I took that down, then realized I couldn’t carry it on the bike and hung it back up.

  Breathe.

  I made a conscious effort to calm down. Ran through the white-light shield and felt better.

  I grabbed my bag and took it to my bedroom. The bed was still mussed from my play with Lomen. That memory gave me a hard-on; I ignored it and tidied the bed, then stuffed all my jeans and a couple more shirts in my bag. Added a sweatshirt, just in case.

  I got an old backpack out of the closet and filled it with socks and the picture of my sister from my dresser. I left the one of my parents. Who knew, could have been them who put up the sign.

  Finally I went to the kitchen and looked through the drawers for anything I’d regret losing. I stuffed a really good corkscrew into my pack, then remembered I had a couple of bottles of wine in a cupboard. I put these in the center of my bag, padding them with jeans, and strapped it back on the bike.

  I wondered if I should leave a light on, then decided that a light that stayed on 24-7 was probably worse than no lights at all.

  I was leaving my home. It hadn’t quite hit me before. I swallowed, telling myself it was temporary. Once the damn alben had been found and persuaded to move on, I could come back.

  With Lomen?

  That was too complicated to think about right then. I made sure all the windows were closed and latched, then wheeled out the bike and locked up.

  With the added weight of my bag and the backpack, the ride up to Len and Caeran’s was slow going. I got off the bike to wait for a traffic light and walked it the next couple of blocks.

  The day was heating up. Some clouds were puffing up, too—might mean more rain later.

  By the time I reached the house I’d worked up a pretty good sweat. Amanda was on the couch, engrossed in her tablet. Len’s car was gone; they must have gone out on some errand. I tiptoed down the hall to Lomen’s room where I paused to listen at the door.

  Come in.

  Sorry, I should have shielded.

  I went in and set my bag and backpack down by the dresser. Lomen was lying on the bed, eyes closed.

  I cleared out two drawers for you.

  Oh, thanks!

  There is also room in the closet.

  I didn’t bring anything fancy.

  I didn’t own much that was fancy, anyway. Certainly living the way we were, I wouldn’t need to dress up, although come to think of it I should probably bring up my suit, in case there was some kind of business meeting.

  I put the backpack in the closet and turned to look at Lomen. He seemed less tired—felt—less tired. I guessed that was his khi I was sensing.

  I’m going to shower.

  I’ll join you.

  My groin tightened at that.

  Amanda’s here—won’t she mind?

  We’ll be quiet.

  I stifled a chuckle, remembering how well that had worked the day before.

  I kicked off my shoes, got out some clean clothes, and headed for the bathroom. Lomen stayed where he was. If he needed more rest, that was fine.

  I padded down the hall to the living room. “You need the bathroom? I’d like to shower.”

  Amanda shook her head without looking up. “No, thanks.”

 
I took possession of the bathroom and stripped down. I could smell my own stink; maybe that was why Lomen had hung back. I hopped in the shower, turned the water on hot, and lathered up.

  The shower was big. There had once been a bathtub, if I judged the neighborhood right, but it had been removed and replaced with a spacious shower with stone tile on the walls and floor. A stained glass window of water lilies shed blue-green light.

  I had shampoo all over and my eyes squeezed shut when I felt the air in the room change. Heard the door quietly close. Knew an instant’s panic, then recognized Lomen’s khi.

  Recognized it. Wow.

  May I come in?

  Please do.

  By the time I rinsed the soap out of my eyes, he was already naked. He came into the shower, bringing a small, unmarked bottle which he set on the window sill.

  He leaned his head back beneath the water, wetting down his hair and kindling a burn in my loins. I poured some shampoo into my hand.

  Yes, please.

  He looked at me and held my gaze while I slid my hands behind his neck and worked the shampoo into his hair, rubbing upward from his nape. His eyelids drooped, then closed as I massaged his scalp.

  We had a good time soaping each other up, exploring and tickling and struggling not to laugh aloud. I could have continued that way for a while, but he suddenly changed course.

  Rinse.

  When all the soap was gone, he took down the little bottle and opened it, pouring a small amount of oil into his hand. He applied this to my chest, rubbing all the way down my torso, which made me salivate. I didn’t know what kind of oil it was but it clung instead of rinsing away, and it stayed slippery.

  He shared it with me. We slathered each other with it. We were both highly aroused by then and we were touching a lot more, flesh to oily flesh, sliding, with water pouring down our limbs. When I gripped his shoulders I could feel how tight they were.

  Backrub. Turn around.

  He did, and leaned his arms against the wall. I got some more of the oil and started rubbing his shoulders, the tight spot between the shoulder blades, down along the spine. He gave a tiny moan, and it sent me over the edge.

  I took him, hard and fast. Felt his fleeting surprise, then he yielded, leaning flat against the wall while I spent myself.