Simply Irresistible Part 12

"'Ma'am'. "An amplified voice reached her from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "'Back away from the building. You could get hurt'."

So the police were monitoring this. Great. That was all she needed: her transformation from Erika O'Connell to this punk chick who hit Stri all done in front of reliable eyewitnesses.

But she couldn't think of that. She kept walking.

"'Ma'am. Back away' --"

With a flick of the wrist, she shut off the noise. She reached the building, created a little magical fog, and looked for the edge of the protect spell.

If she guessed right, whoever had done it had done it quickly, and would have left a hole or two.

But as much as she looked, she found nothing. This was the tightest spell she had ever seen. And it looked a little familiar. She would save part of it, and look for the signature later.

What she needed was a bit of that gla.s.s s.h.i.+eld. Just a piece.

"Stri?" Eris said, beckoning him forward.

He came, carrying the skateboard under his left arm and covering the side of his face with his right. He looked like a modern Quasimodo, only with a jean jacket instead of a hump.

He stayed just outside of arm's reach as he asked, "What?"

"Did you do any damage to that gla.s.s jar s.h.i.+eld?"

He frowned. Or partially frowned. Or hid half of his frown. She couldn't tell with his hand there. She was tempted to grab it and move it down, but she didn't. She wanted him to answer her.

"No," he said after a moment. "But when it started out too big it crashed onto the sidewalk. There should be pieces somewhere."

Eris smiled at her son. "You can be such a good boy when you want to be," she said.

He gave her an uncertain smile. Her own smile faded.

"Well," she said. "What are we waiting for? Help me find those pieces-- 'now'."

The Fates settled around the gla.s.s-topped table as if they were going to recite Homer's 'Odyssey' in the original Greek. Vivian, who was looking better, decided to make herself some tea, and offered Dex some. He wasn't much of a tea drinker, but he knew he'd better fortify himself. He had a hunch the story the Fates were going to tell might take the rest of the day.

As the Fates spoke, he watched Vivian work around her apartment--her delicate hands gathering the remains of the chocolate box, the sway of her hips as she walked into the kitchen. He had to force himself to concentrate on the Fates' words, because he really wanted to think about Vivian.

Apparently, the Fates said when they finally had Dex's attention, the Powers That Be were dissatisfied with the Fates' performance since--well, they weren't sure. They argued about the date until Vivian came into the dining room, bearing tea on a tray and more cookies than Dex had seen since he'd helped some Girl Scouts save a dog in the 1970s.

Anyway, doing the math, and subtracting a little for the vagaries with which the Fates seemed to regard mortal time, Dex figured the Fates's trouble started either in 1700 or 1960. He wasn't going to narrow it down any farther. The Fates were notified recently (which Dex guessed to be about two years ago mortal time) that they would be forced to step out of their positions due to newly imposed term limits.

("They laid you off, then," Vivian said as she sat down at the table, and everyone glared at her except Dex, who had to bend his head to hide a smile.) The Fates were told that there were new requirements for their job and that they didn't meet any of those requirements. The Powers That Be (the Fates paused for genuflection) would contact the legal-minded mages, encourage some to apply, and then open the process to application. The application process wouldn't start for some time.

"How much time?" Dex asked.

"Just shush and listen," Clotho said.

"It's important, isn't it?" he asked. "What if they've already started the application process."

"They haven't," Lachesis said.

"I doubt anyone has even noticed we're gone yet," Atropos said.

"I noticed," Dex said glumly.

Beneath the table, Vivian put her hand on his. The brush of her soft skin sent a tingle through him. He turned his hand upward so that he could hold hands properly. Their fingers meshed, and he rubbed his thumb along her forefinger. Touching her felt good, and eased the sense of frustration he was getting from this conversation with the Fates.

"Maybe you'll get it if we explain the application process," Clotho said, and before he got to weigh in on that idea, they did: According to the Fates, the Powers That Be (genuflect) promised to examine each applicant, pick a few good candidates (maybe fifteen, five for each position) and interview, interview, interview.

So the Fates decided that they would reapply, but first, they would gain experience in the areas they lacked. Those new areas sounded simple enough: They needed to understand other cultures; they needed to learn diplomacy; and they needed to experience powerlessness.

"The problem," Lachesis said, "is that the makeup of the governing council of the Powers That Be--" Here the women genuflected again. Vivian looked at Dex as if she wondered if she should too, but he shook his head. "--has changed in the last two thousand years. They argue a great deal about cultural heritage. We have Egyptians, 'the' Norse, of course, j.a.panese, Native Americans--"

"Frankly, I put much of this change on that Coyote person. He seems to enjoy stirring things up, which is not what we're about. How he got on the governing council I'll never know." Atropos squeezed her teacup so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"I told you," Clotho said. "He can be reasonable when it's in his own best interest."

"I have a hunch this isn't the kind of cultural understanding they all want," Dex said. He kept moving his thumb on Vivian's hand, enjoying the feel of her.

"It doesn't matter," Lachesis said, "at least not yet."

"Well, it does," Atropos said, "if we're going to understand all of this. After all, the Powers That Be"--another genuflection--"believe that we're too Greek, even though the country didn't exist yet when we were born."

"They meant our heritage is too Mediterranean," Clotho said.

"And too old," Lachesis said. "I got a real sense of ageism from them."

Dex shook his head slightly. Discrimination within his ruling government. What a shock.

" I don' t understand." With her free hand, Vivian picked up the teapot, shook it, and seemed satisfied with its slosh. "How did that lead you all to me?"

"We decided to go after all of this backward," Atropos said.

"We figure we can learn cultural diversity and diplomacy," Clotho said. "After all, how hard can it be? A few books here and there, maybe a few movies, and we're covered."

This time, Dex did roll his eyes. Vivian squeezed his fingers, as if she agreed with his disbelief.

"But powerlessness," Lachesis said. "That's the real trick. We've never been powerless, and we're not sure we understand it."

"Although I think we're getting evidence," Atropos said.

"What?" Vivian asked.

"A clue," Dex whispered to her. "They're getting a clue."

Clotho didn't seem to hear. "We arrived in Port-town this morning--"

"'Portland', "Dex and Vivian corrected in unison.

"--and it's been nonstop crisis ever since. First we get zapped with some sort of fire ray."

"Then we run, screaming, and nearly get hit by an unsympathetic car," Lachesis said.

"Unsympathetic?" Dex asked.

"We were in crisis," Atropos snapped. "The driver should have known and been more careful."

"Then this creature appears in front of us, grabbing for us," Clotho said.

"Only he got hit by a more sympathetic car," Lachesis said.

"It took us a while to figure out that we needed help," Atropos said.

"So you came here?" Dex asked.

"Actually, we'd arrived outside Quixotic, but the doors were locked," Clotho said.

"We're going to have words with Aethelstan about that," Lachesis said.

"The restaurant hadn't opened yet," Vivian whispered.

"I got that," Dex said.

"That creature attacked us again," Atropos said, "and I stabbed him with my shears."

"Breaking them," Clotho said. "I'm not sure what the Powers will think of that."

The women pondered that for a moment, apparently forgetting to make obeisance to the Powers That Be with that mention. Or maybe it wasn't necessary when the name was shortened.

Lachesis sighed and the others followed, as if her response awoke them all from their reverie. "Then Clotho remembered Eugenia, only we couldn't remember where she lived."

"But we knew where Vivian was because we had just gotten her change of address," Atropos said.

"Right before we left," Clotho said. "I believe it was on the very last day."

"And lo and behold, the address was right here in Porttown," Lachesis said.

"'Portland', "Dex corrected, but he was alone this time. Vivian looked startled. She let go of his hand.

He felt the loss. It was almost as if she had, in her surprise, closed herself off from him.

"Change of address?" she asked. "What change of address? I haven't sent out any forms yet, and I wouldn't have sent any to you anyway, because I didn't know any of you before this morning."

She sounded almost angry. Not that he blamed her. He remembered when he found out he was going to have magical powers. He had gotten angry too, wondering why no one had told him sooner, why they hadn't made the transition easier, why nothing in his life could be simple.

And of course it had gotten even more complex.

"Oh, you don't send them, my dear," Atropos said. "We just sort of know."

"Or we used to," Clotho said. They all sighed again.

"And when we came up here and tried to explain what was going on," Lachesis said, "we realized that Vivian knew nothing--"

"--and the attacks continued," Atropos said. "Which is why we sought you."

Dex rubbed his forehead with his hand. He was the one getting a headache now. Or maybe he just wished he was so that he could conveniently pa.s.s out on the couch--next to Vivian. Alone.

"What kind of creature was attacking you?" Dex asked.

"Well, it wasn't a creature, exactly," Clotho said.

"It was a person," Lachesis said.

"Although he was dressed like a creature," Atropos said.

"Not to mention he hadn't bathed in--oh-- weeks, maybe," Clotho said.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. It was a cute reaction. Dex looked at her fondly. She raised her eyebrows at him, as if she expected him to ask another question.

It took him a moment to remember what the group had been discussing. "Was this so-called creature a man or a mage?"

"A mage," Lachesis said.

"Definitely," Atropos said.

"And a familiar one," Clotho said.

"Sort of," Lachesis said. "He was dressed differently."

"Lots of metal," Atropos said.

"And he'd lost all his hair," Clotho said.

"If you recognized him, tell me who he is and I'll stop him." Dex tensed as he spoke. There were many mages, especially dark mages, who were more powerful than he was, but he had fought powerful dark mages before. And won.

Vivian looked at him sideways, as if she had heard that thought and it surprised her. He extended his hand under the table. She took it.

"We said he looked familiar," Lachesis said.

"But that doesn't mean we recognize him," Atropos said.

"That power seems to have disappeared with our magic," Clotho said.

"And we need it," Lachesis said.

"Who knew we weren't very observant?" Atropos asked.

Dex knew, but he said nothing. Vivian watched them avidly, her hand warm in his. He loved this instant connection between them. She had a familiarity. It wasn't as if he'd known her all his life. It was as if he'd expected her all his life.