Celta: Heart Choice Part 40

"Yes." He grimaced. "But you'll be going with me to Kalmi Lobelia's home. My old lover."

Her heart jumped, but she nodded and said, "Take me with you. She won't be expecting me. I could provide a distraction."

"I don't know-"

She kissed him hard on the lips, stepped back. "We do this together. A s.h.i.+eldspell, T'Blackthorn!"

He flicked his fingers, and a bubble descended to encase her. It tightened around her body, coating her like a second skin. For an instant she couldn't breathe, then a click sounded inside her head. Moving in the s.h.i.+eld was like wearing a heavy onesuit that covered her face and curved around her eyes.

"You're protected," Straif said with satisfaction, took one of her hands in his tight grip. "Let's go."

"Prepare yourself. One and two and three!"

There was a whoosh, and the next instant they appeared in the stone courtyard outside a deteriorating house. Scraggly weeds grew between gaps in the paving stones, the plaster on the walls was spiderwebbed with cracks. Mitch.e.l.la frowned. In itself, the place was beautiful. Surely a n.o.bleman's home, one of GrandHouse status.

"They definitely need me," she said. "This looks worse than T'Blackthorn Residence did."

Straif winced. "I think it's been like this for years, and I never noticed." A muscle played in his jaw. "I sense great madness. Drina may need us both."

"Yes." It wouldn't be pleasant confronting his old lover, but she'd ignore any proprieties to help Drina. "I should definitely distract the GrandLady." The woman probably had a lot of Flair. Mitch.e.l.la was glad of the s.h.i.+eldspell.

Straif strode up to the pointed-arched door and shoved it in with his shoulder. It creaked terribly.

"Don't you think we should be quieter?"

"I think she's expecting us . . . at least me."

He left the door open, sagging on its hinges. Bright sunlight from the outside barely penetrated the gloom. Straif strode in silently. Mitch.e.l.la followed, treading lightly. Something about the place demanded that.

It reeked of madness.

The odor hit her first. Heavy, unfamiliar incense that made her woozy, mixed with mildewed dankness, mice, even spoiled food. At least she hoped it was food. The atmosphere contained an oppression that hinted anything could happen.

The house wept. Mitch.e.l.la's flesh p.r.i.c.kled at the faint sobs. It sounded as if it had been weeping for a long time. She swallowed hard.

She nearly lost Straif as he threaded the shadowed hallways. He was obviously familiar with the house. Mitch.e.l.la strove to recall anything she'd heard about his affair with Kalmi Lobelia. Nothing. She knew nothing, so she braced herself for a confrontation with a mad stranger.

Abruptly they were in a shrouded room so thick with incense that fumes hung near the ceiling. GrandLady Lobelia sat on a pile of huge pillows made from Chinju rugs, colors faded from too much smoke.

The woman had hair a shade darker than Mitch.e.l.la's, their coloring was nearly the same, and Mitch.e.l.la would bet Lobelia had green eyes, too. She was built of rounded curves. Bitterness coated Mitch.e.l.la's tongue. She froze, wanting nothing more in the world than to be out of the awful crying house with the crazed woman who was Straif's previous lover-and of the same physical type. He didn't even seem to realize that.

The shock that kept Mitch.e.l.la still served them. Lobelia had focused on Straif, not seeming to notice that he wasn't alone. Mitch.e.l.la silently sidled back to the deep doorway shadows, ready to spring her appearance on the woman at the right time. She hoped. Surely Straif would give her a cue.

"Kalmi," Straif said in a too quiet voice. "Still using pylor smoke to amplify your powers?"

"I need it to see, to retain my Flair and my reputation."

"I'm surprised you have any clients coming to this place." He gestured, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

Kalmi sat up straight. "You've been spending too much time with that Commoner who is working in your house." She spread her arms. "Don't you know we are meant to be together? I have seen us-and our children." She struggled to rise, but fell back to half-recline against the pillows. "Our children, Straif, strong and healthy, and grown to adulthood. That nasty flaw of yours won't kill them like it did the rest of your Family. You must trust my sight, my love for you. We belong together."

Mitch.e.l.la saw Straif swallow, but he continued to stand very still. He waved to something to his left, out of her sight. "Harming my Fam won't make me trust you, Kalmi. It will hurt me. Hurt us."

Angling herself, Mitch.e.l.la strained to see what he was talking about. She stared at the limp Drina on a black altar. She'd been infuriated by the little cat just that morning, but never would have thought to harm an animal.

"This is sick," she whispered. Straif's shoulders tensed, and she pressed her lips together so no more words would escape.

Kalmi smiled with awful delight. "But I've found that a little ceremony to the Dark G.o.ddess and the release of energy at the point of death can boost my Flair. I thought we could use it in our HeartBonding. We are HeartMates, Straif. I saw it."

The prophetess was so crazy, the atmosphere so gruesome, Mitch.e.l.la's flesh crept. She fought shudders.

"I must insist on taking my Fam," Straif said, gliding slowly to the altar.

"No. No! She'll bring me power. I'll show you how!" With unexpected speed and agility Kalmi shot to her feet.

To Mitch.e.l.la's utter amazement, Lobelia jumped Straif. Mitch.e.l.la ran into the room, scooped up Drina, and ran out, shrieking mentally, Danith! Her fear must have made an impression, because her friend appeared-formally dressed for the party-in Lobelia's shabby courtyard.

Mitch.e.l.la thrust a limp Drina into Danith's arms. "Here, take care of her. I need to help Straif."

Danith looked startled, then turned her attention to the FamCat. "Bad," she said. "Very bad. Bad Flairspells and poison. I'll take her to my home FamClinic." She winked out silently.

Lobelia had definitely been waiting for Straif. He was lying bound by strips of Chinju rug, wrapped around him like the tree branches that had caged Mitch.e.l.la. Kalmi held a knife, her whole body trembling so much with crazed sobs that Straif was in real danger. Mitch.e.l.la stormed in, lowered her shoulder in a move she'd learned from her brothers, and ran straight at Kalmi. Mitch.e.l.la hit the woman in her middle. Her stomach was much larger than Mitch.e.l.la's. She felt a dull blow on her back, the knife skittered away. Lobelia shrieked, her words garbled. "I've seen in my visions, it's me he's with, me, not you, not you, notyou."

Knife gone, Lobelia's clawlike hands grabbed Mitch.e.l.la, tore at her and slid off the s.h.i.+eld. Shrieking, Kalmi pummeled her. The blows didn't hurt much and infuriated Mitch.e.l.la. She lost all reason, and fought back, striking with fisted hands, kicking.

They rolled over and over, banged into a struggling Straif, then over to the black altar. With a keening triumph, Kalmi reared back, breaking Mitch.e.l.la's hold, and pulled on the heavy velvet drape. Heavy objects fell on Mitch.e.l.la, glancing against her head, on her chest, taking her breath.

Kalmi rose above her, with another knife. "He wants me. He needs me. He always came to me before. I love him and will take him, curse and all!" She plunged the knife down.

Mitch.e.l.la curled inward, took the blow on the back again. Pushed against Kalmi, and tangled them both in the cloth. Dust and smoke rose from the fabric, hazing Mitch.e.l.la's mind, weakening her limbs.

House, help me! I'll help you, I vow! Mitch.e.l.la cried. The House bordered on sentient, she knew, but could it help? Plaster fell, a beam groaned overhead, and Mitch.e.l.la fought, kicked, shoved away from the madwoman. Straif tore away his bonds. The end of the beam creaked down, building speed. Mitch.e.l.la rolled, and Straif yanked her aside, as the rafter fell on Lobelia.

Mitch.e.l.la staggered to her feet, brus.h.i.+ng her hair back, panting.

Straif stood looking at Lobelia, buried in plaster rubble and broken wood. Horror echoed back and forth between them, spiking high in Straif. He'd cared deeply for the woman once.

Mitch.e.l.la closed her eyes against his hurt and her own.

"Is she . . ."

With careful steps, Straif approached Lobelia's motionless forearm, all that was visible. He bent, felt for a pulse, sent out a Flaired probe. Mitch.e.l.la felt the zip of energy. Lobelia didn't.

"Yes, she's dead. Her soul is gone, circling on the Wheel of Stars, poor thing."

Straif turned and stared at Mitch.e.l.la, features cast in disbelief. "You talked to the house, and it helped you."

She dusted herself off. The personal s.h.i.+eldspell had attracted the white plaster dust. "You talk to your Residence all the time."

"It's a Residence. A . . . a . . . being?"

"Housebeing. Sentient House. Flaired House." Mitch.e.l.la shrugged. "All you FirstFamilies have sentient houses. That's what makes them Residences. They've been the homes of Flaired people so long they're imbued with magic. You store Flair within them. You give it to them for scheduled spells. You have Rituals and Ceremonies in them where you all raise energy. Of course they become beings."

Straif still looked shocked. He opened his mouth and closed it, gestured around them. "But this isn't a Residence."

Mitch.e.l.la sniffed. "It's been the home of Flaired Grand-Lords and Ladies for many generations, so it's in the act of becoming."

He blinked as if he couldn't get the idea through his head that the house had saved him. "My Residence would never hurt me."

She tilted her head. "Of course not." He was having a hard time comprehending the matter, and she didn't know why. "You know the value of your home. You treat it with respect. It is, after all, another member of your Family. Lobelia never treated the House as a being, never cared for it. Why should a being protect one who never protected it?"

Straif just shook his head, looked at Kalmi, and grimaced. "Um. Can you ask the house to move the debris on Kalmi, so I can teleport her to the Death Grove?"

"The beam and wall fragment are no longer attached to the House, so it has no control over them. Can you take off my s.h.i.+eldspell?"

He looked uneasily around. "What if something else-"

"The House is perfectly in control."

With a Word, the s.h.i.+eldspell was gone. Mitch.e.l.la checked her own Flair. Sufficient. It wouldn't be the first time she'd cleared rubble from a house, and it wouldn't be the last. It would be the most memorable. With a brief spell, she provided Flair for a debris removal spell and initiated it. The House caught at the magic eagerly, boosting the spell with its own long-stored Flair for housekeeping that hadn't been used for years. The sheer power of the spell spun her and sent her to b.u.mp and lean against a wall, facing away from the destruction. She was glad, she hadn't really wanted to watch the revealing of Lobelia.

A few moments later, the room quieted. "Is it done?"

Straif said, "Yes, there's a hole in the ceiling, and the wall is completely gone. Apparently it was a part.i.tion that the house didn't like." His voice sounded funny. He'd probably never seen a house remodel itself.

Then he sighed. "I'll 'port Lobelia to the Death Grove," Straif said, then intoned a Word.

A slight sound and a surge of emotion from the house notified Mitch.e.l.la that Lobelia's body was gone.

She turned back, and the room's appearance had changed dramatically. The smoke stains on the walls had vanished, leaving them a nearly blinding white, the pillows gleamed with renewed sateen texture and brilliant, jewel colors. The hole in the ceiling looked square and tidy, waiting for someone to reinsert a beam. As Straif had said, the false wall was gone and the chamber was much larger, with long, clean windows that painted squares of sunlight on the gray stone floor.

Looking around with raised eyebrows, Straif shook his head, stared at her uncomprehendingly. "You are a heroine to a house."

The world whirled around her, and she felt like the set point.

When it settled, she knew it was time.

Time to break off the affair with Straif. It was already far too late for her. She'd hurt for years, part of her heart would be shadowed forever, knowing that she could never have her HeartMate.

She stared around, hardly believing that this was the time and place.

"Mitch.e.l.la?" Straif touched her cheek, concern in his eyes, and she braced herself for the blow.

"You don't really understand me at all, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't understand what I feel for houses, but more, you don't understand what I feel for Antenn and you." Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

"You love Antenn as your own son."

She began narrowing the bond between them, reeling in the thread as much as she could. It would be bad enough dealing with the devastating blows of her own emotions, she couldn't endure his and not break.

"Yes, I do. He is my son, the child of my heart." She lightly tapped above her left breast. "I love him as much as I'd love any child from my own body."

Straif flinched.

"I know you don't understand that, but it is the truth." She inhaled deeply. "And I love you. More than I've ever loved any man before. I'll never love anyone like I love you." HeartMate echoed in her mind. "But I can't stay with you any longer."

"No!" He reached out, grasped her hands. Energy shot and pulsed raggedly between them. She shut out all the pain-hers waiting to ambush her in a moment; his, fresh and raw.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

"I can't. Not anymore simply as a lover."

He just stared at her.

She wet her lips. "Will you marry me and have me as the only woman in your life? That's what I want from you, Straif."

His expression was angry, hurting. She steeled her heart.

Straif said, "You know I can't do that. I want children and a Family, more than I want anything else in this life."

"I have a child."

"I must have a child of my own blood to carry on the Family name."

"No. You want children who carry your blood and your great Flair. True Family isn't based on blood, but on love. You haven't figured that out. I have. I'll have more children."

She pulled her hands from him and with strength she didn't know she had, she brushed her lips to Straif's and fixed a smile that was almost genuine on her face. "The time we had together was beautiful. I'll always cherish memories of our affair." He whipped out a hand, but she evaded it-with a little help from the house manipulating the residual Flair.

"You can't leave me!" Torment radiated from him.

She spoke to him, walking fast out of the room, down the hallways. His sharp footsteps followed. "I must leave you, for both our sakes. I love you too much, and you can't give me what I need. To go on would damage us both. Now is the right time. The project of restoring the Residence is done. You'll be confirmed by AllCla.s.s Council as T'Blackthorn today. You've found new cuzes. There is no more business between us."

When she reached the door, she found it straight on its hinges and shut. She flung it open easily and without any creaking. A pulse of fear came from the house. She patted the doorjamb. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Outside the sky was blue and the air held the first edge of summer, but Mitch.e.l.la thought she'd drawn in the atmosphere of the house behind her-hurting with no hope of surcease, only surviving through sheer will. Her eyes burned with the effort to keep tears from falling. Her throat tightened. A horrible hole was inside her that she didn't know how to keep from enveloping her. The blackness of it, of giving in to the urge to scream her hurt, tempted.

Searing agony seeped through the tiny link with Straif. She strove with all her might to ignore his pain, block her heart-break from flowing back to him. With him, now, she only had her pride.

Her heart contracted with shock, her brain numb, only her body's automatic actions kept her upright, walking. She didn't dare allow herself to think of Straif behind her. She'd fall to the ground and curl up.

And there, outside rusty, hanging gates, was Antenn, Pinky draped around his neck and stretched out on his skinny shoulders. Antenn clutched papyrus in his hands, crumpling them. He looked at her, past her, then back at her face, and gulped. She opened her arms and he ran into them, and she held warm, solid boy. Her son. The reason for her to go on.

Pinky crawled from Antenn to snuggle around her neck, and she welcomed the weight of him and his purring that vibrated against her body.

Antenn rushed into speech. "Danith D'Ash told me you were here. The snotty cat got herself kidnapped. I came by public carrier, and I have the last set of adoption papyrus. I've filled them out. Now you only need to enter your agreement. I thought we could take the papers to the GuildHall and file them and get adopted tomorrow. I mean, right now. Then we can go home to the Clovers. Family will be good." He babbled, holding her, until the small displacement of air told her Straif had 'ported away and the bond between them ripped.