Heart Dance (27 page)

Greetyou.
It was more growl than polite salutation. But Saille noticed snowflakes melting in the cat’s fur. Going to the window, he saw clouds had swept in while he and Vinni had been talking.

“Do you need a towel to rub you dry?” The building had a waterfallroom, hot-square and several food no-times, a small apartmentif he wanted to stay there.

No towel.
Myx’s back rippled, then he sat down and groomed his whiskers. He glanced at Saille and started a loud, rusty purr.
Sensed you upset and needed Me.

Saille squatted by him and stroked him gently. Both Vinni and Myx had felt he wanted them. Saille wondered what sort of aura or Flair signals he was emitting. Then wondered why Dufleur hadn’t perceived the same. But knew the answer to that question immediately. She’d narrowed the link between them, not breaking it, but not completely acknowledging it, acknowledging him as her HeartMate, either.

She hadn’t accepted the HeartBond during their lovemaking.In fact, he was sure that was another thing she hadn’t perceived.Every time they’d joined, bodies, emotions, minds, he’d thrown her the golden HeartBond. It had simply bounced off what
he
sensed was an impenetrable shield around her heart.

That had hurt, a dull, aching agony that hadn’t fully diminished.Was anything so painful as being rejected by a HeartMate,a person made to complement you? Saille didn’t think so. And experiencing this hurt would make him better at his work, he was sure, but he’d just as soon as not endure it.

Dufleur hadn’t even noticed the HeartBond. Probably didn’t even know anything about HeartBonds, how they were formed, when they were formed.

Only that she didn’t want one.

She didn’t seem to want anyone to be close to her in her life.

Why not?

He could only believe that it was rooted in her childhood, as most wounds were. Her life with her parents. Her mother was certainly a self-absorbed woman. He wondered about her father,the father she was determined to prove was sane and honorable.How close had she been to him?

She had the Thyme Flair for time. Of that he was sure. She was breaking the laws of Druida, set in place after her father’s death at the urging of Saille’s MotherDam. What a mess.

Myx hissed.
You pulled my hair out.

“It was a matt. It wasn’t attached too much.”

“I apologize.”

Myx grinned.
FamMan apologizes well. Not like stup Cat Fairyfoot.

Saille cleared his throat. “How’s Fairyfoot doing?”

“That will help Dufleur.”

“Yessss.”
I have always been a loving Fam.

“For the few days we’ve known each other.”

Always
, Myx agreed.

Saille raised his brows. “Which means?”

Myx gave a little cough.
I should have a collar.

“I see.”

Stretching his body under Saille’s hand, Myx said,
You could make beads.

“I could.”

In History of Cats on Ship, I saw bright blue beads.
Myx projected an image.

“Faience.” Tin-glazed clay.

“Our color is scarlet.”

“Very well.” He thought of the dusty brown cat wearing bright blue faience beads and shuddered. Another cat without taste. He supposed he should be grateful for a Fam at all. And this one was loyal to him.

Good.
Myx butted his head against Saille’s hand for more petting.
I am good at walking in shadows.

“What?”

He’d wanted to forget Vinni’s prophecy. Now he knew he wouldn’t. “That’s good of you.”

“Yessss.”

She was awakened by the low, repetitively irritating tune of her scrybowl. How had she ever thought that music lovely? Certainlywasn’t a Passiflora D’Holly melody. Groggy, she squinted at the bowl, saw multicolored swirls of blue light. D’Sea, the mind Healer, was calling. Dufleur’s stomach knotted.She wanted to curl up in a fetal ball.

“Dufleur,” said the melodious voice of the FirstFamilies GrandLady. “Please answer the scry. I know you’re there, though I’m sorry I woke you.” Of course she would know, they still had a telepathic link between them, likely always would. “I’ll wait, Dufleur.”

The message cache was large. Seven minutes. D’Sea would wait that entire time. Then call back. They’d been through this pattern before. Dufleur heaved herself from bed, noting that Fairyfoot still snored gently on her corner of the bed.

As she wobbled to the scrybowl, Dufleur picked a hairbrush off a table and pulled it ruthlessly through her hair, feeling the new shorter style fall into place. That was something.

She tapped the side of the scrybowl, and the tune stopped. Taking a deep breath, but forbearing to paste a smile on her face that D’Sea would see through, Dufleur answered, “Greetyou, D’Sea.”

“Merry meet, Dufleur.” D’Sea appeared as calm and serene as ever, middle-aged heart-shaped face interestingly lined, compassionate blue green eyes. “I heard that the Councils’ Heraldvisited you and wondered how you were doing.”

“Did she reimburse you?”

Hauteur chilled the pretty face, and thin, brown eyebrows lifted. “I donated my services and will continue to do so. It’s the least I could do.” Her eyes sharpened. “I also heard that you had accepted reparations, and believed that was an excellent step, but then thought that circumstances might have forced you into doingso.” In the holo image formed by water droplets above the bowl, D’Sea tilted her head to study Dufleur and gave a slight sigh. “You look weary and strained.”

Dufleur tried a weak but genuine smile. “I’m not used to the social season.” She coughed, felt her face settle back into a serious expression. “Rumors about my father were rampant at the ball last night. All the old gossip.” She grimaced. “I didn’t handle it well. I was accused of running away.”

“By whom?”

“Uh, a new friend.”

“Resistant to counseling as usual, Dufleur.”

“I’m sor—” she remembered not to apologize for something she wasn’t really sorry for just in time. Another pattern. “I haven’t been an easy patient.”

That rewarded her with a faint smile. “No you haven’t, but I think I made some errors in your treatment, and that only added to your problems. I apologize for that.”

“You’ve been very good.”

“Nevertheless you were glad to stop seeing me. I do understand,but at least I know I helped you some.”

“You helped a great deal.”

“No flashbacks?”

“None.” There’d been a few nightmares, but that wasn’t the same.

D’Sea sighed again. “It’s a pity the emotional distance therapydidn’t work as well as usual. I still don’t understand why.”

Dufleur thought she did. She was aware of the wind of time in every cell of her body. Convincing her mind that the events that had taken place a couple of months ago were decades old didn’t really work. She smiled again, this time more gently. D’Sea was a very nice and competent woman. “It seems as if more than a year has passed, at least.”

D’Sea frowned. “That places your attempted murder in the same time frame as your father’s death. Not good.”

“I’m doing well enough.”

“I’d like to schedule you for another session.”

“I’d rather not.”

After a searching gaze and a touch of Flair on Dufleur’s mind that she endured, D’Sea nodded. “I’ll consider it.” They both knew that if D’Sea decided Dufleur needed more treatment,no one would gainsay her, and Dufleur would be back in D’Sea’s client comfortchair. “I’ll decide tonight when I see you at the opening of your show at Enlli Gallery.” Her face softened. “I’m very proud that you are exhibiting your work, Dufleur. It’s a wonderful opportunity for you.”

“Thank you,” Dufleur said, trying not to look nervous at the reminder of the show. The evening would be nothing but socializingand being personally talked about, and right after last night when stories of her father would still be circulating. Definitelysomething she’d prefer to run away from. She stiffened her spine. “It will be good to see you there.” D’Sea liked her, Dufleur knew, would be on her side if sides were taken. SomehowDufleur couldn’t imagine Quert Apple tolerating any scene in his gallery. That notion cheered her. “It truly will be good to see you,” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say to express her feelings.

“Thank you. And how is Fairyfoot doing?”

A bright light of realization burst in Dufleur’s head. Fairyfoot.Fairyfoot was being difficult, and it might relate to her experiencewith the black magic cult, too. Of course. “We’re relating better.” In the last few hours.

“Good. I hope to see her, too.”

“She’ll be there.” Dufleur had no doubt about that.

“Merry part,” D’Sea said.

“And merry meet again, tonight,” Dufleur ended the standardsaying.

The water in the scrybowl rippled, and D’Sea vanished. Dufleur walked with shaky legs to her bed and sat. It was mid-afternoon,too late to go to her laboratory and work on the next phase of her experiments. Too early to prepare for the showing.

She reached out and pet Fairyfoot, savoring the softness of the cat’s fur, healthier now that she wasn’t living on the streets. Dufleur stood, then picked up Fairyfoot. The cat shifted in her arms, looked up with sleepy green eyes, and purred.

“We’re going to scry Danith D’Ash,” she informed her Fam, who scowled.

“That’s what we’re going to talk to D’Ash about.”

Fairyfoot’s whiskers twitched, and a gleam came to her eyes.
You will tell her how wonderful I am.

“We’ll talk to her.”

Walking over to the scrybowl on its table, Dufleur made sure to angle her body and Fairyfoot away from the bowl. “D’Ash,” she projected her voice, so her breath disturbed the water.

“Here.” D’Ash answered the scry after a few seconds, lookinga little harassed. She blinked at the sight of Dufleur and Fairyfoot. “Is anything wrong with Fairyfoot?” she asked, concerned.

“Not physically. But I think some of her behavior lately has been because of the horrible . . .” An image came of a black room, being tied to an altar, Fairyfoot beside her, linked hands holding a knife over her chest. Dufleur stopped and breathed through the memory. Not a flashback. Not quite, and why had D’Sea put that idea in her head anyway? Just a memory. She continued her sentence and hoped D’Ash hadn’t noticed the couple of seconds of hesitation. “Because of what we went through just before Samhain.”

“Ohhh.” Danith D’Ash smile was as gentle and compassionateas D’Sea’s. “Of course. She has such a large, courageous personality that we tend to forget that she was a victim, too.”

Fairyfoot emitted a pitiful mew, accompanied with big, round eyes.

“And she tends to manipulation,” said D’Ash.

“More than tends,” Dufleur muttered.

D’Ash tapped a finger on her lips. “Let me think what we can do.”

“You’re The Animal Healer.”

“Yes,” D’Ash said, “and I worked with Fairyfoot at the time both physically and using distancing Healing, but we should have expected additional time to heal, the poor soul.”

Fairyfoot mewed.

“But I don’t often try to mend animal minds. They aren’t, afterall, like ours.” Her expression turned grim. “There were more victims of that cult than humans. Even though the Fam-Peopledied, the Fams survived. Six Fams survived. I’ve kept in touch with all the new human companions.” A small line knit between her brows. “Oddly enough, the Fams that are the most stable now are those that your cuz, Ilex Winterberry, questioned during the investigation. You might ask him to work with Fairyfoot,if he hasn’t?”

Did cuz Ilex ever talk to you, Fairyfoot?
asked Dufleur.

“No,” Dufleur said to D’Ash. “That’s a good idea. He’ll be at the Enlli Gallery tonight. Perhaps he can take a few minutes...”

“I’m sorry, Dufleur, we can’t make it—”

Dufleur flushed. “I didn’t think you . . . that is, I expected that you have other plans.”

D’Ash smiled. “We do, and we’re not much for the social season. In fact, we don’t go, but Holm HollyHeir persuaded us to make an exception for their ball next week. Who can miss a ball at Holly Residence? I think it’s the first in decades.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll see you then.”

“Earlier than that. Ruis and Ailim Elder are opening part of the starship
Nuada’s Sword
for a ball. No one can miss that, either?”

“I imagine not.” Dufleur didn’t like the Ship, the Time Wind was a little odd in it.

An angry child shrieked in the background of the scrybowl. D’Ash winced. “Nuin is not happy. I’m sorry, I must go.”

“Of course.”

“And if Fairyfoot has any continuing problems, bring her to me. Oh, and I’ll remind the cat community that she and her FamWoman nearly died at the hands of the black cult. Fairyfoot,no more punishment, but you must continue to help your FamWoman, she needs love as much as you. Blessed be.” D’Ash signed off hurriedly.

Fairyfoot gave a little wiggle in Dufleur’s arms then purred even louder.
Life is good.

“For the moment,” Dufleur said and thought she could get a little work done in the lab after all.

Dufleur hurried from the Residence the moment she sensed the Holly glider drive up. She was nervous enough to run down the steps and barely wait for the footman to open the glider door, even so an excited Fairyfoot jumped in first.

“Where’s Dringal?” asked Passiflora.

“She’s ill.”

There were a few instants of silence as if Passiflora was consideringthe lie. “Ah. Well.” She glanced out the window at the lights that flowed by. “I should not say it, but I prefer your embroideryto her lace. It’s very good, but not quite good enough to be featured in the Enlli Gallery by itself. Still, a mother-daughtershow with similar Flairs, that hasn’t been done too often.” She let out a long breath. “And after all, you are here.”