American Quest (31 page)

“Thank you, Aaron.”

Her fingers curled around his bicep, and they felt as cool and light as champagne. The first willing physical contact. Enervata smiled inwardly; the rest was only a matter of time.

Something in her manner had shifted. She seemed to have come to a decision—a favorable one, by the way she responded to him. He wondered what exactly had prodded her his way. Perhaps she had taken Sileny into her confidence again and Sileny had persuaded her to relent.

He was so close. He would have her, taste her, smell her. And when he did, the entire world would be in his grasp. Perhaps he would even lie with her tonight.

He looked at her as she strolled with him through the park, her eyes heavy with introspection. No. She was nearly there, but it was still too soon.

“You started to say something about change theory and King Lear,” he said, nudging her from her heavy thoughts.

Gloria blinked back to the present and her eyes lightened. “Yes, I just meant it as an example. You’d been telling me a while back about that King Lear production in Moscow.” She breathed in, casting her eyes toward the trees. “How they use that special indigenous music? It just got me thinking. On the one hand, you have a traditional style of singing practiced for centuries. And on the other you have a centuries-old tale, Shakespeare’s story of King Lear.”

She turned her head toward the misted streets of the brownstone neighborhoods. “But they’re brought together in a nontraditional way. It’s a change. And by stepping out of the local environment—presenting the play in Moscow and making it available to the international audience—that’s an even bigger change.”

Enervata nodded. “True. If one should leap from the initiation to
the end point, the change is too sudden and involves too much risk.”

“Right,” Gloria said. “And if that kind of unorthodox folk music were brought out solely on its own, it would likely not catch on in the outer world and would probably eventually be forgotten in the local one. Maybe even die out altogether. But by making incremental steps toward change—combining it with the familiar tale of King Lear and bringing it to a wider, but still local stage—the change occurs. The music goes from local to available to the world. And in that change, the music survives.”

He nodded and they walked on a bit in silence.

“When you think of it,” he said, “the same could apply to the tale of King Lear itself.”

Gloria frowned in thought, and he could see that she was now free from whatever introspective considerations had been absorbing her earlier. Now her mind seemed completely released to the discussion. She was stunning this way.

“Do you mean in the way that the heirs fought over the kingdom?” she said.

He nodded. “Partly. But also in the destruction of the dynasties. If Lear’s enemies had attacked, his army would have resisted. In fact, they likely would have banded together to resist outside siege. The same is true for Gloucester. And yet the families were still destroyed. Not from enemy assault, but from their own deconstruction. Their internal, incremental change. Unknown, unseen enemies triumph without ever having had to lift a finger.”

Her face clouded. “You’re right. I never thought of how the reverse can be true, too. I always think of change theory in terms of social improvement.”

He averted his gaze. “Of course the families needed only make different kinds of changes internally. Had they instead laid down their avarice, set aside those things they loved, they would have removed themselves from the annihilation.”

“Set aside the things they loved?”

“Yes. Don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps I—I suppose.”

They entered the lobby where the soft, warm hues of Rosso
Ramello marble belied the true nature of the stone: hard and cold. It formed a wrapper of alternating Rosso and Bianco tiles across the floor, the Rosso continuing partway up the wall in wainscot panels to where molded posts marked each corner.

They strode to the gilded elevator that, as always, stood open and waiting for them. Gloria’s hand still rested at his elbow. The doors closed around them, locking them inside the chamber, and the digital display changed with each floor they passed as they rose to the top.

Enervata examined Gloria’s face, and couldn’t tell where her train of thought had gone. He decided to probe a bit.

“But enough of change theory and all that. Did you enjoy your dinner tonight?”

She smiled softly. “It was wonderful. These past few nights, eating at restaurants I’d only ever imagined. It’s been quite an experience.”

She turned, cheeks burning, as if she’d just revealed something that brought her a measure of shame.

The doors parted to reveal the penthouse foyer and they passed through.

Gloria walked toward her room and stopped. “Do you think it really would have mattered to King Lear’s heirs? If they had set aside their desires, those things they loved, as you say? Do you think it truly would have prevented their destruction?”

Enervata regarded her. He saw the indecision in her eyes and saw that she found indecision to be a foreign state. He stepped toward her. “I think it might have made all the difference in the world.”

She nodded, lashes low.

“Good night, my dear.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

She did not turn from him, but accepted the kiss with the slightest upward angle to her face.

“Good night, Aaron.”

He stood, watching after her as she retired to her room and closed the door. He remained watching for several seconds after she was gone. He saw to it that her door locked securely, then turned, opening his privacy to the Pravus.

Presently, both Hedon and Isolde appeared in the doorway and Sileny emerged from the far hall. For a fleeting moment, he forgot
himself and wondered where Rafe and Glueg were, then dashed their memories. His council seemed so thin now.

He breathed in and exhaled slowly. “What of New Orleans?”

Isolde stepped forward. “The musicians travailed, but theirs prevailed while ours did fail.”

Enervata’s brows drew downward. “How is that possible? After we’ve been coddling and preening our musician for this moment.”

Hedon waddled to the sofa, pint jar of honey wine in hand, and sat. “Took the liberty of tying ’im down in the Hall of Amusements, master. But I couldn’t say the lad didn’t throw in his best. Their force is a formidable one.”

Enervata stared toward the far corridor, where the door to the Hall of Amusements now stood ajar. “You deal with him as you see fit, Hedon. Isolde, at least you managed to veer them off course brilliantly. New Orleans is a good distance out of the way.”

She all but shrugged. And was that a smirk?

He inclined his head, tunneling his eyes into hers. Something was off here. He couldn’t define it and that meant he didn’t like it.

“One dangles a butterfly in their path and they go skipping after, into morass.”

He nodded, though not fully convinced by her airy manner. But it mattered not. Mere days from success, he would keep Isolde in his service and then strike her down.

He turned his back to both of them. “Then let us continue in this vein. See to it that they are diverted even further. Dangle your butterflies, Isolde, and may they be at the farthest end of the country when Gloria takes my hand.”

Hedon smacked his lips and piped in. “We’ll have them practically to Mexico, master.”

Enervata breathed in and released slowly. “So be it. Now leave me.”

He turned and glowered at them. Isolde was already striding toward the archway, her scarred back to him and her hips swaying with a seductive carelessness. Hedon snorted through his notched nose as he heaved left and right to work his body from the sofa. Sileny bent her head and scurried for the corridor.

“Not you, Sileny. Bring me a sherry.”

Isolde left, and Hedon disappeared to the Hall of Amusements.

Sileny returned with a silver tray and crystal, and poured from a bottle of Oloroso.

“Sileny, have you spoken to her recently?”

Sileny lifted a brow, shaking her head.

“She has changed somehow. As if she has taken someone into her confidence and has made a decision. She seems resolved.”

Sileny fashioned her hands to express that, as requested, she had refrained from communication with Gloria for the past few days.

He nodded and waved her off.

Gloria excited him in a surprising way. To think, two conquests at once. Perhaps this was the secret; to allow himself a trifling bewitchment from a woman. Perhaps in his past efforts at breaking the bonds-recherchés, if he had allowed the seduction to flow in both directions, he might have met success earlier.

No matter. He had made this discovery now. And he would savor it.

BRUCE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR and, after several moments, Jamie appeared to let him in. He scanned the flowered and papered guesthouse room and saw no sign of the others.

“Where’re Emily and Bedelia?”

Jamie cocked her head at the window, her eyes not quite their usual silver-dollar brights. “Em was antsy so Bedelia took her out for a stroll. She said they’d be around Jackson Square if we wanted to join up. I was just . . .” She flapped her arm at the room. “I really need to try to contact . . . my . . . you know.”

Her voice was gravelly and a line creased the skin from brow to ear.

Bruce frowned. “Have you been sleeping?”

“I, what? No! Well . . .” Jamie’s head dipped two inches. “Okay. I guess I must have dozed off.”

“I thought you were going to contact your guide, Jamie.” He tried to wrestle the tension from his voice, but he was getting frantic. Every hour that passed felt one step closer to losing Gloria.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I tried. For a while. It wasn’t any different from the other times.”

Her hand went to the back of her head, and she kneaded her long neck with frustration. Her eyes glistened. She turned and walked away from him, slumping into the chair at the little desk at the far corner.

“Sometimes it feels so impossible,” she mumbled. “I feel like I’m trying to catch a single drop of steam with a fishing net.”

The glistening in her eyes bubbled and Bruce could see them filling at the corners, even from across the room. He sighed, stepping toward her, his frustration giving way to gentleness for his lifelong friend.

“It’s all right, Tink. Everyone needs to catch a snooze every now and then.”

The tears spilled over at that, leaving streaks down her face. She looked like she was about to say something, but she pressed her lips together and only snuffled.

Bruce knew that way about her. She was thinking they weren’t going to make it. She wouldn’t let herself utter those words, but that’s what she was thinking.

He laid his hand on the back of her neck and kneaded the balled masses in her muscles. Her bony frame swayed under the pressure of his hand and she closed her eyes.

“You’ve been working hard to try to figure this thing out, Tink, and I appreciate it. It felt like we were on the right track for a while. But now I don’t know.” Bruce’s eyes drifted to the window, where a geranium bloomed red in potted soil. “New Orleans doesn’t feel right. But I don’t know where else to go.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Her eyes were still closed as she spoke. “If I could just call up a visitation from my Auxilium friend, she could tell us where to go next. I don’t understand why it’s not working. I can only guess something is blocking us. Half of me wants to just go back to New York.”

“We’re not giving up.”

“I don’t intend to give up,” she said quickly. “But what if we’re
supposed
to go back to New York?”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t see how. We’re supposed to find the Four Pillars of Humanity and so far we haven’t even found one.”

Jamie lowered her head again. “I feel like that time when we were in high school and you were working on the school play. It was right after I had that first visitation and I was determined to watch out for you.”

Bruce smiled. “Is that the time you got locked in the closet?”

Jamie sniffed, and though he stood at her back while she sat, he could see her smile form in the reflection in the mirror.

She bent her head to the pressure of his hands. “Yeah. I was going be your guardian angel, full of this sense of purpose. So I’d been hanging
out, making sure everything was safe in the prop room. I was all paranoid that there’d be some accident or something.”

He laughed. “All this time, I always wondered what you were doing in there.”

“So now you know. I still don’t understand how that closet door could get locked from the inside. I felt so stupid.”

“How long were you in there?”

“Six hours!”

Bruce shook his head. He tried not to laugh but couldn’t help himself.

“Go ahead. It was funny.” Jamie’s grin broke wide.

She tilted her head back again and her eyes were back to silver dollars in blue. He planted a kiss on her forehead and released her neck, turning toward the bed, where he sat down.

“Thanks,” she said, rubbing her shoulders and moving her head from side to side.

Bruce laid back, feet still on the floor but his back now stretched across the bedspread. He groaned. “Oh, man. I can see why you took a catnap. I’m beat.”

“I just wish I knew more about what to do. I felt useful at first right after Enervata abducted Gloria. But now it’s like I’m going nowhere.”

“Well, you’re not locking yourself in a closet again, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His speech slowed. He rubbed his face.

“You might have been put here to watch over me, Jamie, but you’re my buddy, and I’d love you regardless of whether you’re a guardian angel or a fruit bat. Doesn’t make any difference.”