The Mutant Season, Page 23

  A sleek gray skimmer pulled up to the curb with Ben Canay at the wheel.

  “Taxi, miss?”

  Andie got in and closed the door carefully.

  “I really appreciate your giving me a lift to the shuttleport, Ben.”

  He gave her a quick grin as the skimmer cut quickly across into the speed lane.

  “Glad to do it, Andie. Wouldn’t want you to drag your bags on the tube, and since Stephen is going to meet you in Santorini for your Christmas r-’n’-r, I thought the least I could do was to offer myself as cabbie.”

  Canay was working so hard at being ingratiating that she tried to warm up to him.

  “Nice car.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I just had the interior redone.”

  “All this leather? My god, that’s an indulgence.”

  Canay smiled crookedly. “Well, it was more like a necessity. You see, my girlfriend trashed it.”

  “This skimmer? Does she do that often?”

  “That was her parting shot. After she stole it. Good thing I have insurance.” Canay gave a harsh laugh.

  Andie frowned. Canay’s personal life sounded messy.

  At the traffic light near the shuttleport, a shapely mutant woman with long blond hair crossed in front of them. Canay watched her progress, sighing.

  “Gorgeous,” he said.

  “You admire mutant women?” Andie asked. “Most non-mutant men don’t.”

  “I know. Although, just between you and me, I think most nonmutant men wonder what mutants are like in bed.” He turned toward Andie and winked.

  She looked away. “No doubt.”

  “Well, I consider myself a connoisseur,” Canay said, oblivious to her coolness. “My girlfriend was mutant.”

  “Really?” Andie swung around to stare at him. “I didn’t think mutants behaved so hysterically.”

  Canay shrugged. “She was upset. We’d had a fight.”

  Must have been a lulu, Andie thought. Aloud, she said, “Mixed couples aren’t all that common.”

  “Present company excluded?” Canay said. “Well, I just got lucky.”

  “Sounds like you miss her.”

  He smiled.

  “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  To Andie’s relief, the shuttleport loomed into sight, orange terminals dotted with blinking lights. Canay pulled the skimmer up to the Olympic Air entrance near a mechporter.

  “Need help with your bags?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Andie said. She jumped out of the skimmer.

  “Have big fun with the big man,” Canay said. “We’ll take care of business until you get back.” He waved and drove off.

  The mechporter took the bags, processed Andie’s ticket, and told her that the shuttle was loading. She strode toward the gate, eager for a few days in the sun. Canay’s comments haunted her oddly. So what if he liked mutant women? If he was foolish enough to get mixed up with people who stole and ruined his possessions, that was his business. Why should she care about his stupid girlfriend and car? Shrugging off her uneasiness, she ran for the shuttle.

  21

  MAME ME INVISIBLE, michael thought. Sweep me out to sea and let me float. I want to become seaweed and seafoam. Shivering with cold, he stared at the gray breakers as they crashed upon the shore. He’d been hiding out for two days now, ever since that nightmarish moment in the clan meeting when Jena had tried to claim him.

  Any minute now, he prayed, Skerry would send a sudden telepathic summons to come away. Skerry always knew when he was in trouble. And Michael would go. He’d become outlaw to the clan. He’d get a message to Kelly, and she’d fly to Vancouver for a clandestine wedding, to become his outlaw bride.

  If only he’d been able to reach Skerry. But the number he’d been given months ago was out of service. He’d tried it for two hours yesterday, dialing and redialing.

  Michael?

  It was the faintest whisper in his mind. He turned, gasping.

  “Skerry?”

  Michael, can you hear me?

  “Yes, Skerry.” He almost wept with relief. “Where are you?”

  Not Skerry, dear. Mother.

  “Oh.” Despair enveloped him.

  Sue Li walked up the beach toward him, her cloak billowing in the wind like bright red and gold wings. Michael’s dreams of escape crumbled with each step she took.

  “Come back,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Surely you don’t want to become outlaw? Do you understand what that means?”

  She sat down beside him on the damp sand.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I won’t have to attend these damned meetings anymore.”

  Sue Li’s face crinkled in a smile. “That may be one of the few benefits. But do you really want to leave all of us? To shed family, friends, even your job?”

  “I could do it if I had to.”

  “But do you want to?”

  “I don’t know.” He stared off into the waves.

  Sue Li kept her voice calm. “Then come back.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s our way.”

  “I don’t give a damn about our way. She tricked me.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t you care?” He turned to face her. “Do you really want Jena as a daughter-in-law?”

  Sue Li sighed.

  “This goes beyond what I want or don’t want. In some ways, I wish you and Kelly had just run away together. I could stand to be the mother of an outlaw.”

  “Really?” Michael stared at her in amazement.

  She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

  “Yes. But I can’t endure being the grandmother of a half-outlaw child,” she said gently.

  “I don’t love her.”

  “I know that, too. But you have a responsibility now to more than what you want.”

  “You mean the child?”

  “Yes.”

  Angrily, Michael pulled away from her touch.

  “Dammit, why can’t Jena just get an abortion?” he cried.

  “You know why. It’s forbidden in the clan.”

  “What about my happiness?” His voice was ragged.

  Sue Li smiled sadly. “You may find that happiness comes with time. And when you least expect it.”

  “I could run away.”

  “You could. There’s a tube station around the corner. I’ll even give you money for a ticket. But where will you go, Michael? What will you do? And what shall I do if I lose yet another of my children?” Her voice was soft.

  Michael drew his knees up to his forehead. He rocked back and forth in the damp sand. Tears trickled out from beneath closed eyelids.

  Kelly, he thought. Kelly, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  He felt his mother’s hand on the back of his neck. Choking back a sob, he raised his head, dashing away tears with his fists. He stared at the green-gray waves as they pursued their eternal, rhythmic dance with gravity. Finally, he nodded.

  All right.

  “I’ll come back. For the child. And you.”

  “You mean that?”

  Again, Michael nodded.

  He stood up, helped his mother to her feet.

  “I love you, Michael,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I grieve with you.”

  “I’m always going to love her.”

  “I know.”

  She took his hand. Together, they walked back to the clan meeting, Sue Li’s cloak flapping around them.

  As they entered the meeting room, Halden greeted them with a sigh of relief.

  “Found him? Good. I didn’t want to delay another day.” He sent forth a mental summons for order. Then he spoke to Michael.

  “Have you returned of your own free will?”

  Michael was silent. He gazed around the room at his clan. A hundred golden eyes glittered back at him.

  “Yes, he said. “I ask forgiveness for the disruption.”

  “I should think so,” Tela said sharply.
>
  “I think we should be understanding of our younger brother’s confusion,” Halden said benignly.

  All around the table, heads nodded.

  Michael sat down next to Jena. She smiled tremulously at him, face aglow.

  She really does love me, he thought. Enough to have bound me to her in this way. Even to risk my anger. My hatred and rejection.

  He looked at his betrothed. She was beautiful. Tall and cool and blond. Michael thought of another woman, shorter, with dark hair and a lively smile. His mouth tightened with pain.

  Kelly, he thought. I waited too long.

  Jena squeezed his hand. Michael looked at her again. I don’t love her, he thought. But maybe I don’t hate her. And perhaps I can be kind to her. Someday.

  Michael clasped her hand and closed his eyes as Halden began the closing chant that sealed his fate.

  Within the clan, we are family.

  Within the inner circle, we are one.

  From past ages to final future,

  We go forth as we have gone before,

  Together, hand in hand, heart in heart,

  mind in mind. The right of new life

  joins us as one.

  The beach was dark volcanic sand, sparkling with glints of mica. On this unusually warm winter day it soaked up the heat of the pale sun and felt too hot to walk on. Andie raced toward the blanket, yelping. Stephen looked up from his notescreen, smiling from beneath a Panama hat.

  “Ah, paradise,” Andie said ruefully, rubbing her toes. “When you suggested Santorini, I never thought I’d get blisters on my feet.”

  “Here, have a sip,” Jeffers said, passing her a silvery squeeze-jug of retsina. “It’ll ease your pain.”

  He went back to his notescreen.

  Andie took a swig of the light-green, pine-scented wine. The cool, sour taste was refreshing. She stretched out on the beach chair and admired the turquoise waters of the Aegean. What a good idea it had been to come here. They’d spent the past three days exploring the ash-shrouded ruins of Akrotiri, wandering along the upper ridge of the island, and making love in their private suite in the whitewashed grand hotel perched on the hillside of the ancient volcano. Washington was thousands of miles away. Andie closed her eyes and let the sun caress her into drowsiness.

  A shout brought her out of her reverie. Two heavyset women in black bathing suits were standing at water’s edge, shrieking and pointing. Far out from shore, where the water turned a deeper blue, a small, dark head bobbed in the surf. Too far out. The small head went under. Came back up sputtering. Went under again.

  “Stephen! That child’s drowning!” Andie cried.

  She jumped up and made for the surf. She was a fair swimmer, good in a pool. But this was the ocean, cold and powerful. The waves were relentless. As soon as she was in the water, the tidal pull began working on her. That little head was so far away. Andie gasped for air. Then another swimmer passed her, feet motionless, a clear wake streaming out behind him.

  Andie fought her way back to shore and stood, gasping, as she saw the little head go under again. She waited for it to bob up again, holding her breath. Then another, larger head, lighter-haired, was there.

  Jeffers.

  How did he get out there so fast? Andie wondered.

  He dove, his back flashing in the sun. Vanished. The spectators watched anxiously. Time dragged by. Suddenly, a spout of green water flurried, and up popped the child, like a cork, with Jeffers right behind him. In moments, they were on the beach, a noisy crowd encircling them.

  Jeffers gasped for breath. But the boy was motionless, lips blue. Andie began CPR. Should she call for a medmech? Was there time? The child remained still, unresponsive.

  “Please,” Andie whispered. “Don’t die. Please.”

  Cool hands on her shoulders drew her away.

  “Let me.”

  Jeffers bent down, placed one hand on the child’s chest, the other on his head, and closed his eyes. His forehead furrowed with concentration. He muttered something guttural, indistinct. His lips drew back in a grimace. The child jerked convulsively. Jeffers’s neck muscles stood out in cords. The child coughed and began crying. His young mother sank to her knees and clutched the boy to her chest. She wept joyfully as the crowd cheered.

  Pale and dazed, Jeffers fell back, breathing heavily. Andie grabbed the retsina squeeze-jug and handed it to him. He drank eagerly. In a moment, his color deepened and his breathing slowed.

  “Had to go pretty far down to find him,” Jeffers said.

  “Was it deep water out there?” Andie asked.

  “Not the water. His mind. Almost gone.” Jeffers took another gulp of retsina. “Tried to get his heart started first, but he’d been under a long time. Had to call and call. I’m not very good at it. But my mother was a healer. She taught me some of what to do.”

  Andie felt a chill running down her back.

  “How’d you get to him so fast?” she asked.

  “Telekinesis. Almost too late.”

  “I’d say your timing was perfect.” She put her arms around him and led him back to the blanket, oblivious to the hot sand beneath her feet. Jeffers lay down in the sun, utterly drained.

  “Think I’ll sleep for a while,” he said. His eyes closed and he was gone.

  Andie glanced at the notescreen he’d tossed aside. It lay on the dark sand, half-covered with black grains. She brushed it off. A list of medical clinics in the Cyclades glowed in amber letters on the screen.

  She let him sleep for half an hour, then prodded him awake with a toe.

  “C’mon. Let’s go inside. It’s almost five.”

  Inside their room, Andie peeled off her synthskin and set the timer and water temperature for the shower. The twin shower heads shot liquid silver threads at the red tile.

  “Care to join me?” she asked archly.

  He gave her a roguish grin.

  “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  He slipped into the tub behind her and pressed her against the wall.

  “Stephen!”

  Jeffers kissed her hard as he slipped a hand between her legs. Warm arousal fanned upward from his touch. Andie gasped as Jeffers lifted and entered her. She shuddered with pleasure, wrapped her legs around him, letting the hot water caress her neck, her breasts. She came quickly, crying out in her frenzy. With several deep thrusts, Jeffers followed her. They sank to the tile floor, arms and legs tangled. In a minute, the water clicked off. Andie reached for a towel.

  Wrapped in its soft, pink, cottonsynth folds, she sank down onto the bed. Jeffers lay down, naked, beside her. Dreamily, she ran her hand down his chest.

  “Tell me about your mother,” Andie said.

  The peach-colored sheets were deliciously smooth and cool under them. She felt the welcome lassitude that usually followed their lovemaking.

  Jeffers shrugged. “I told you. She was a healer.”

  “Just for the mutants?”

  “No. She worked as a psychologist. So I suppose she healed nonmutants as well.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Killed in the riots in ’95.”

  “My God! Were you there?”

  He turned away from her, facing the wall. “Yes. The crowd just flowed up and over us. She made me get under a skimmer and told me not to come out until it was safe. I watched her body lying there. Finally, the police moved her.”

  His voice was soft, but Andie could feel the horror of the moment almost as though she had been there. Chilled, she pulled the bedcovers up.

  “How did you get away?”

  “My father found me, after it was dark.”

  Jeffers turned over and looked at her. In the half-light of the room, his eyes gleamed eerily.

  “You don’t remember the riots, do you?”

  Andie shook her head. “I was only eight years old. I remember my parents talking about the trouble. And I had to stay home from school one day when I was supposed to give a report, so I was angry. But no, I don’
t remember the riots.”

  She looked at him, thinking of the child he’d rescued. Of that day, twenty-two years ago, when he waited, longing for rescue, watching his mother’s body. Andie felt a pang of strange emotion. It felt like love. Or pity, perhaps.

  Sprawled on the bed, he was a golden idol. A pagan sculpture from a sun-worshiping cult. Light glowed from him, from his tanned skin, golden eyes, tawny hair.

  He was splendid today, Andie thought. I could marry a man like that.

  Marry this golden man? She watched him from beneath half-closed eyelids. For the first time, she believed in the possibility. They could be together. Yes. And good together. They could bring mutants and nonmutants closer. Work for the same goal. Love each other. Yes, somehow she would marry him. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  She leaned back, drowsy. “That felt good. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

  “Fine.” He squeezed her shoulder and got out of bed.

  Andie slipped into strange dreams. Stephen was saving the little boy, over and over. Then his face changed. It was Ben Canay’s face, and he was trying to save a little boy. No, it was a little girl now. A little mutant girl. Or was he trying to drown her? And the little girl looked strangely familiar.

  “No!” Andie cried in the dream. “Save her. Save her.”

  She sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding and her hair clung stickily to her back and shoulders. The place beside her was empty. She could hear Jeffers’s voice coming from the far end of the suite, but his words were indistinct. Probably on the screen to somebody in Washington, she thought groggily.

  She lay back, trembling, until her pulse slowed.

  It was a dream, she thought. Just a dream.

  Slowly, she drifted back to fitful sleep, haunted by the image of a young mutant girl, drowning.

  The trip home from the Mutant Council was quick. Too quick. Michael dreaded every moment, from lift-off to touchdown. But once in his own room, he could delay no longer.

  With numb fingers, he keyed up his deskscreen and dialed Kelly’s code.