Forever Page 8

“If he calls in too many tips, the cops will start suspecting him of starting the fires.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, we talked about that. He uses a pay phone unless it’s a serious emergency.”

  “Is it hard for you? Being with Savhoran?”

  She gave a wry smile which turned into a grin. “It’s worth it.”

  She dropped me at the Astronomy and Physics building. I wasn’t early enough to ask for a private word with the prof, so I resigned myself to visiting his office later. Not a conversation I looked forward to.

  I listened to the lecture and made random notes in my notebook, stray thoughts about Project Ebonwatch. All my powerful feelings about the effort had shifted since I’d met Pirian. Ultimately, he was the one I’d be fighting to cure. Was he worth it? Would he even be grateful?

  Class let out, and I crossed Lomas and headed for the duck pond. It was warming up, and I’d forgotten to bring a hat. I stuck to the shade of trees wherever I could, hopping from pool to pool of shadow. The last stretch was across open ground. I made a beeline for the trees where I’d met Lomen the day before.

  He wasn’t there.

  = 7 =

  One hard, self-pitying swallow, then I took a grip on myself. It wasn’t yet noon. Maybe Lomen was still in class, or running an errand. Don’t panic.

  The thought of errands reminded me there was a book on biochemistry that I wanted to check for in the library. Zimmerman was right next to the pond, so I walked over and hit the catalog. Located the book, ran up to get it, and took it to the front desk to check out.

  “Hi, Steve!” said a sharp-boned girl in a black baby-doll dress that gave glimpses of bits of her tattoos: purple and green curlicues peeking out of the neckline. Her hair was black and cropped with a knife-edge cut that ran right along her jaw, then dipped to long points in front.

  “Hi, Poppy. How’s it going?”

  “Ah, sucks since Len and Manda quit.” She looked over her shoulder, then leaned toward me across the desk. “The boss is a fucking A-hole.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  She pushed the book toward me. “Due in three weeks.”

  “Thanks.”

  I carried the book back to the pond. Still no Lomen.

  I sat on the bench. A trio of ducks swam up, looking hopeful, then drifted away again when I failed to produce any snacks.

  I took out my phone to check for a message from Lomen, and discovered my inbox was full. Mostly messages from various reporters, but one was from campus police. I returned the call, got put on hold briefly, and ended up talking to Detective Buzz-cut, whose actual name was Renniger.

  “Mr. Harrison, we’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I just now checked messages.”

  “We need to talk to you. We went by your apartment but you were out.”

  “I spent the evening at some friends’ house.”

  “Could you come into the station and answer a couple of questions?”

  “Um—after my next class? Gets out at three.”

  “OK. Where did you say you were last night?”

  I closed my eyes. The second killing.

  “At home. Alone.”

  “You didn’t see anyone?”

  “I was with friends earlier. One of them gave me a ride home.”

  “What time?”

  I thought back. “Around nine.”

  “Can you give me his number?”

  “Hers. Amanda Richards.” I gave him Manda’s number and made plans to apologize to her later.

  “Thanks,” he said. “See you at three.”

  “Right.”

  I hung up, then continued emptying my voicemail. The reporters had each called at least twice, then tapered off. Hunting leads on the second killing by now.

  I became aware that I wasn’t alone. Felt an instant of panic, then recognized Lomen’s spice-pine scent. I looked up to see him standing beside me, holding a white take-out bag.

  “Stealthy,” I said, smiling.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s OK.” I gestured with the phone, inviting him to sit. He joined me, his thigh brushing against mine, making me want to pull his clothes off right there.

  “Um. I’ve been catching up on messages. If you left me one I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

  “I didn’t. Are you hungry?”

  “Now that you mention it.”

  He opened the bag. A familiar greasy aroma arose.

  “Golden Fried. Haven’t been there in a while.” I reached in and pulled out a piece of fried chicken.

  “It was convenient.”

  “Somehow I never imagined ælven eating fried chicken.”

  He laughed. “Variety is a blessing.”

  I loved fried chicken. We each had a couple of pieces, then tore up the biscuits and fed them to the ducks. I watched Lomen, drinking in his presence, reveling in the physical contact. A slight frown lingered on his forehead.

  “Did you find anything last night?”

  He sighed. “No. We checked all the bridges, and searched the central part of the bosque, but found no trace of alben khi.”

  “Maybe they didn’t get that far. Maybe they’re closer to campus.”

  “I fear you may be right.”

  I tossed my last crumb to the ducks, who arrowed in on it, beaks worrying the water.

  “You tired?” I asked Lomen.

  “I’ll rest this afternoon. I wanted to hear your recommendations for classes. The deadline for dropping is today.”

  “Is it? Damn. I’d better put in my changes.”

  He nodded. “We can go to administration together if you have time.”

  “If we go now. I have a class at one.”

  We got up, abandoning the bench and the tantalizing near-intimacy. Packed up the chicken bag and ditched it in a trash can on the way to admin. I was horny; I would rather have gone back to my apartment for some privacy.

  “I missed you,” I said when no one was nearby. “Thanks for the note.”

  “I missed you as well.”

  His voice, lowered to almost a whisper, hit me straight in the loins. I kept walking, trying to keep my mind on my class schedule. I told him my thoughts about what we each should take.

  “Is there not a way I could test out of some basic classes? I have studied mathematics before.”

  “Sure, worth asking.”

  We reached the admin building, which was busy with a lot of other students on the same mission. While we stood in line we discussed options, so that by the time we reached an administrator we knew what to ask for.

  I put in my changes—drop physics and the SA job, and add Molecular and Cell Biology and Genetics—then waited while Lomen arranged to test out of three basic math courses, prereqs for chemistry. He had a form to fill out for each one.

  “I’ve got ten minutes to get to my class,” I said. “Meet you later?”

  “Shall I come to the building?”

  “Well...”

  Is there a problem?

  I blinked, rocked by the sudden awareness of him. It doubled my desire.

  I have to go to the campus police building after class. More questions.

  He frowned slightly as he wrote his address. Should I come along?

  No. Meet at my place afterward?

  All right. Be safe, Steven.

  I left, smiling. So good not to be alone.

  The feeling of being contact with him gradually faded, either because I was moving away or because he was gently releasing it. My instinct was to hang on but I had to trust him and let it go. He’d been doing this forever; he must know what was best.

  Forever.

  I shivered, remembering throwing that word at him, demanding it, early on. What had he thought of my naivete?

  We had something. I wasn’t sure what or how long it would last. A long time, I hoped. I didn’t dare call it forever.

  I reached the Physics 102 classroom and stopped in the doorway as a wa
ll of emotion slammed into me. Maybe I was more attuned than usual, maybe talking with Lomen had somehow sensitized me, but the grief in that room hit me like a solid thing.

  Heads turned. Many eyes watched me walk from the door to the front of the room, where Professor Warner was looking through a stack of papers I had graded earlier in the week. She shot me one glance over her wire-framed glasses, pushed a wisp of black hair behind her ear, then handed me the stack to pass back to the students.

  I swallowed as I turned to face them. I was The One who had found her, their classmate, dead in a pool of her own coagulated blood. They didn’t all know her, I was sure of that. But they had all heard.

  Some of them avoided my gaze. Others stared at me, mutely seeking answers I couldn’t give. A few gave me angry or accusative looks. I said nothing. To the one girl who looked up and thanked me in a whisper, her eyes filled with tears, I could only nod.

  It was one of the worst gauntlets I’d ever run, and it erased any regret I had about dropping the job. When I returned to the front of the room with a half-dozen papers of kids who were absent, Professor Warner stood up.

  “I’m sure you’ve all heard about the unfortunate demise of Miss Darrow. To those of you who knew her personally, I offer my condolences. I’ve been informed that there will be a memorial service in the Alumni Chapel tomorrow morning at ten.”

  Memorial. Good to know. I wouldn’t be there.

  She glanced at me again, then instructed the class to turn to the text for the lecture and was off teaching. I retreated to my usual seat in the front corner of the room and kept my gaze fixed on her.

  When should I tell her? She’d get the drop notice by Monday morning, probably. I ought to say goodbye, nothing personal, thanks and all.

  She’d be in her office after class. I decided to stop there on my way to the campus police building. One more errand I didn’t really want to do, but maybe after today I’d be through with them.

  Her lecture slid over me without registering. I knew all this stuff anyway. When I’d taken the job I had thought it would be a good review, but I’d been impatient with it almost immediately. I would be glad to leave it behind.

  I tried not to keep looking at the clock on the wall. Its hands seemed to creep along. Finally, at ten ’til the hour, Professor Warner checked her watch and reminded the class of their next assignment. Everyone stood up, inhaling relief. The room emptied fast.

  I took my time, and was one of the last ones out. Received a couple more looks, without animosity, from the last of the students.

  I went straight to Warner’s office and knocked on the frame of the open door. She’d arrived ahead of me and looked up from her desk, her face framed by wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

  “Steve. Come in.”

  I stepped in, but didn’t take a chair. “I’ll only be a minute. I just wanted to let you know I’m resigning the SA job. I’ve already dropped the class.”

  She pushed aside the stack of papers she’d been working on and shifted in her chair, facing me. “This is sudden. I hope it’s not because of yesterday—that must have been traumatic.”

  “No, it isn’t that. I’ve decided to go with biochemistry, so I’m dropping the physics major.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry to hear it. You’ve got a lot of promise.”

  I’d expected her to ask me to stay. So much for me being invaluable.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Well, you’ll be brilliant wherever you land, no doubt.” She stood and offered her hand. “Good luck, Steve.”

  “Thank you.”

  I shook hands and left. In the hall I passed two kids from the class, waiting to talk to the Prof. I nodded to them and left the building, heading northwest across campus to the police administration building.

  Buzz-cut was waiting, none too patiently, in the lobby. He didn’t pause for any chit-chat, but beckoned with a sharp gesture when he saw me.

  “This way.”

  I followed him down a hallway to a room crammed with a mix of office furniture and laboratory equipment. The nice female cop I remembered was there, peering at a computer monitor on a desk piled with stacks of files. She got up, smiling, and went to an equipment shelf. I took note of the name on her badge: Ulibarri.

  “Hi! Thanks for coming in. This’ll just take a minute.”

  “Hold out your hands,” said Buzz-cut.

  I didn’t like his tone much. I checked to see that he didn’t have a pair of cuffs in his hands, then held my arms out in front of me. Officer Ulibarri shone a hand-held UV light on them, running it up my arms to my elbows.

  “Turn ’em over.”

  I did, realizing what they were looking for.

  Blood. The UV would light it up if there’d been any, even if I’d scrubbed myself. I gave Buzz-cut a narrow look.

  “You’re clean,” said Officer Ulibarri. “Thanks.”

  She put the UV light away and went back to the desk.

  “Can I go?” I asked, careful to keep my tone polite.

  “We called your friend,” said Buzz-cut. “She alibied you for Wednesday night up until 9:05 p.m., when she dropped you at your place.”

  So they were looking at me for the second murder.

  I nodded, trying to keep calm. “I stayed in the rest of the night.”

  He didn’t like that. “You own any knives?”

  What kind of question was that?

  “Sure,” I said. “Kitchen knives.”

  “Pocket knife?”

  “No.”

  Officer Ulibarri shot him a glance. He took a step back, making me realize he’d been crowding me.

  “Just stay available in case we have more questions,” he said.

  “OK.” I turned to go.

  “And don’t leave town.”

  I gave him a level look. “Not planning to. I have classes.”

  He didn’t like that either, but he didn’t say anything. I had the impression he just didn’t like me in general. It was a chord I sometimes struck with macho types, apparently merely by existing.

  I glanced at Officer Ulibarri, who gave me a wry smile. I smiled back, then headed out.

  It was almost four, and the afternoon heat rose from the pavement as I walked home. I stuck to shade as much as I could, glad to leave campus behind and head into the relative quiet of the student ghetto. About three blocks from home I noticed a subtle shift in the air and turned.

  Lomen was following me, several paces back. I hadn’t heard his footsteps.

  He grinned and joined me. “Very good.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I stopped masking my khi.”

  “You can do that? Mask your khi?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been following me?”

  “Since you went to the police building. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

  I wished I’d known he was there, but then if Buzz-cut had seen me talking to Lomen, his opinion of me would probably have plummeted.

  “I was all right,” I said, starting toward home again. “Thanks for caring.”

  We walked together, passing through pools of shade cast by old elms and intermittent blinding sun. I felt unsettled—not annoyed, exactly, but not happy—about Lomen’s tailing me. After a while I figured out that it was his sneaking up on me that bothered me the most. The fact that he’d done it so easily. Made me feel vulnerable; made me think about Kimberly and the other victim. Had they even seen it coming?

  I’ve displeased you. I’m sorry.

  No, I—it’s all right.

  The contact was a relief. When I could feel him, I knew things were OK. When I couldn’t, my paranoid brain made up all kinds of problems.

  We reached the apartment and I pulled out my keys. As I unlocked the door I wondered if the neighbors were watching, if the police had asked them about me.

  I held the door for Lomen to go in, then closed it behind us. The front room was untidy from my hasty de
parture. I straightened a couple of books I’d left on the desk. Physics, as it happened.

  I couldn’t help feeling awkward. He came to me and took my pack, set it on the desk. I took a deep breath.

  Would you like to see my room?

  Yes.

  I led him down the hall, anticipation driving away the weariness of the long, somewhat stressful day. I went in and turned on the lamp on my dresser. Didn’t want the overhead light.

  I watched him take in my room. The furniture was sparse; my taste runs toward austerity, I suppose. I didn’t have any mementos, other than a few favorite books: Lord of the Rings, Darkover, Sandman.

  I had cut a lot of ties when I left home. Quite intentionally. My family didn’t like who I’d grown into, and I didn’t like them trying to keep me from being myself. So, high school diploma in hand, I’d said goodbye and come north, hoping to find more tolerance, and maybe even some good company.

  It’s a nice room. Restful.

  Thanks. The walls are kind of thin.

  Then we’ll be quiet.

  A tingle ran through me. I stepped toward Lomen and he turned to me, welcoming. I brushed his hair with my fingers, something I’d been longing to do. It was silky soft.

  He waited, letting me take the lead. A kiss, then another, less hesitant. I tasted his neck where it met his shoulder. Hint of salt, and a whisper of sandalwood. I drew him down to the bed.

  Your turn.

  I echoed what he’d done for me—undid his jeans and found him ready, which made me unbearably hot. He tasted wonderful.

  It wasn’t long before he pulled off his shirt and pulled me up onto the bed with him. My clothes faded away and our minds blended together along with our bodies.

  Words fail to convey how amazing telepathic sex is. Those two words sound flat and technical, when the sensation is … beyond elation. I can’t do it justice.

  I don’t know how many times we came to the brink and he said wait and we both held still, aching to come. The last three times were in quick succession, I remember that. And then complete loss of control. And collapse. And glowing exhaustion.

  I became aware of myself with the sensation of his hand gently stroking my back. I raised my head to look at him, found him smiling lazily. I shifted so I could kiss him. He responded with languid enthusiasm.