Blood Will Tell (24 page)

“Tell who what?” she responded, feeling a little dazed. Miala had the sudden thought that she should pinch herself to make sure this wasn’t yet another of the feverish dreams of Eryk Thorn that had haunted her over the years.

“Tell Jerem his father isn’t quite as dead as he’d been led to believe.”

The import of his words slowly sank in as she stared up at Thorn. If he wanted Jerem to know the truth, that could mean only one thing. “You’ll stay?” she whispered. Somehow it seemed tempting fate to say the words out loud.

“As long as I can,” he replied.

It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it would do for now. “I’ll talk to him,” Miala said.

Thorn watched her carefully for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll do it. Better he should hear it from me. It’s time we got acquainted anyway.”

Slowly, Miala nodded. “I’ll go call him at Mikhal’s—” she began.

“No need.” Thorn glanced past her to the large windows that opened on the backyard. “He’s still here.”

Puzzled, Miala followed his gaze to see a small flash of blue at the far end of the yard, out by the fort Jerem had built with several of his friends. Not even her usually hyper-sensitive maternal radar had picked him out, but leave it to Eryk Thorn to have every living asset in an area marked and noted.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Be—be kind.”

“He’s mine, too,” Thorn replied. And with that he turned and left her as he went out into the bright day to meet his son.

Apparently he had forgotten the cardinal rule of Mikhal’s house, which was Always Call Before Coming Over. Or so Mikhal’s mother had told him, her dark eyes shaded with a frown when she’d seen Jerem on her doorstep.

“Mikhal’s doing his homework,” she’d said crisply, the frown deepening as she looked down at Jerem. “I’m surprised you’re not grounded, after what the three of you pulled. And don’t bother coming over tomorrow, either. I know how to punish my boy, even if your mother doesn’t.”

Jerem had mumbled an apology, then beat a hasty retreat. In his surprise at seeing his mother back so soon, he’d completely forgotten the prank that had pulled him into Dr. Chand’s office for the latest go-round, but she would certainly find out when she called Risa to check in. He was not looking forward to that interview.

But his dismissal from Mikhal’s house left him at loose ends in his backyard as he waited for his mother to be finished with her “client.” Weird, because she hardly ever had customers come to her home office. She’d always said she thought that sort of thing should be taken care of at the main office in downtown Rilsport. And something about the man bothered him—he looked sort of familiar, as if Jerem had seen him someplace before, but try as he might he couldn’t remember where. Also, you’d think that his own mother would be excited to see him, even after being away just a few days, but she’d appeared worried and preoccupied, and had rushed Jerem out of the office so quickly it seemed almost rude.

Nothing in the backyard called to him—not the half-constructed “laser barrier” he and Mikhal had started building along the perimeter of the fort’s roof, not the repulsor-hoop game his mother had bought him for his last birthday, not even the miniature aircar that wouldn’t go more than about five kilometers per hour but had still become the bane of the gardener mechs. Everything seemed stale and flat, dull.

So he sat on the low step that bordered the flameflower hedge, looked out into the sunny day, and sighed, feeling very put upon. Then Jerem scowled.
What the heck is he doing out here?
he thought, as he suddenly spied the stranger from his mother’s office coming toward him with purposeful steps.

The man paused a few feet away and gazed down at him for a minute. Then he looked past Jerem, staring at the fort. “Nice fort.”

“Yeah,” Jerem said. No doubt his mother would have given him a warning glare over his sullen tone, but he didn’t care. Why was this guy out here, anyway?

The stranger seemed not to notice Jerem’s state of the sulks. “I told your mother I’d come out and talk to you.”

At that statement Jerem squinted up at the strange man. Again a nagging sense of recognition caught at him, but now he knew he’d never seen this person before. He was swarthier than most of the inhabitants of Nova Angeles, and not overly tall, but there was something about the way he stood that suddenly reminded Jerem of Clynn Rogeson, one of his favorite vid stars. As if he were ready to go into action at any moment or something. He definitely didn’t look like any of the other men his mother had brought home.

“Talk about what?” Jerem asked. Despite himself, he felt almost curious.

“Your father,” the stranger said.

“What about him?” Although his tone was casual, for some reason Jerem could feel his heart beginning to pound. “He’s dead.”

“Not exactly.” The man stared down at him with dark eyes that all of a sudden began to seem oddly familiar. “Jerem, I’m your father.”

Jerem wanted to laugh, but the stranger looked deadly in earnest, and his words seemed to unlock the puzzle in his mind. Of course the man looked familiar—in his face was the promise of what Jerem’s would be when he was grown. Still, he figured it was better to be cautious. “My mother told me you were dead,” he said, the words flat, a challenge.

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s what adults always say when they don’t want to explain things to you,” Jerem shot back, and the man actually grinned.

“You’re right.” The stranger gestured toward the low wall on which Jerem sat. “Mind if I take a seat?”

Jerem shrugged, and the man settled himself down a few feet away from him. Despite himself, Jerem couldn’t help staring. This stranger who called himself his father was obviously a good deal older than his mother; he had deep lines around his eyes and a series of odd scars across one cheek. But the shape of his eyes, the color of his skin, even the wave of his hair, were all the same as Jerem’s.

“So who are you?” Jerem asked. He was having a hard time trying to comprehend that this person might actually be his father, but that wasn’t about to stop him from gathering some facts.

“My name is Eryk Thorn.”

Jerem could feel his eyes widening as he stared at the stranger. Eryk Thorn?
The
Eryk Thorn? Even here on Nova Angeles Jerem had heard of the famous mercenary—he was rumored to be the inspiration for some of Jerem’s and Mikhal’s favorite comics. He was merciless and never lost a fight. He had a thousand disguises and had evaded the authorities on a hundred worlds. Eryk Thorn was wicked cool.

Somehow Jerem found his voice. “You don’t look like Eryk Thorn.”

“How would you know what I look like if I always have my face covered?”

That sounded reasonable enough, and Jerem had to concede him the point. “So where’s your mask and hood?”

“I don’t need them here on Nova Angeles.”

Again, Jerem couldn’t argue with that. Nova Angeles had to be the safest, dullest place in the galaxy. No seedy spaceports or underworld hideouts around here, that was for sure. He frowned, gazing back at the man, trying to wrap his brain around the idea that somehow his mother—his respectable, elegant mother, the one who went to parents’ night and rode him about sticky fingerprints on the refrigeration unit—had known Eryk Thorn. And not only known him, but had been with him in that weird manner which resulted in children. They’d gone over basic biology in school, but his main response so far had been to think it was kind of squicky.

But still—Jerem’s head reeled. Eryk Thorn was his
father
. Not some long-dead, faceless pilot with the GDF, a fact which had elicited some sympathy for Jerem but had never seemed all that special, but Eryk Thorn, the mercenary.

“So how did you know my mother?” he demanded. He still couldn’t figure out how the two of them could have ever gotten together.

“We met on Iradia,” Thorn replied. “She rescued me after I barely survived a firefight with some of Mast the crime lord’s friends.”

“Whoah,” Jerem breathed. “And she saved you?”

“I was pretty banged up. She patched me together, and then she gave me half of Mast’s treasure to get her off Iradia.”

“Mast’s
what
?”

A corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “His treasure. Mast died, and your mother hacked his computer system to get at the money he left behind.”

Jerem was beginning to feel the way he once did after he stepped off the high-velocity spinner wheel at the local fair. Head whirling, he said, “My mother. Mia Felaris.”

“Well, her real name is Miala, but yes.”

That tidbit required another few seconds for Jerem to digest. “I didn’t know she was that cool,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah.” The man—Eryk Thorn—got that little lift at the corner of his mouth again. “She’s a remarkable woman.”

Maybe he wouldn’t have put it that way, but Jerem thought that Thorn probably was right. Anyway, this information about Mast’s treasure sure did explain a lot. “So were there mob bosses and hitmen after you? Is that why you couldn’t come here to Nova Angeles?”

His father raised an eyebrow. “I think you must watch too many cop shows.”

But it wasn’t a straight-out denial, and Jerem sighed happily. Who knew so much excitement and adventure lurked in his mother’s past? He couldn’t even be angry at Eryk Thorn for never being around—his intrinsic coolness completely outweighed his lengthy absence...at least for now. “So are you going to stay here for awhile? On Nova Angeles, I mean.”

“For awhile.”

Jerem got to his feet. “Man, just wait until Mikhal and Alic hear about this! They’re going to blow a gasket!”

Eryk Thorn stood as well. “You should keep this quiet, Jerem.”

Uncomprehending, Jerem stared up at his father’s impassive face. Then understanding slowly sank in. “Oh, right. ’Cause you’re here incog—incog—”

“Incognito,” the mercenary finished. “Something like that.”

Of course. If Eryk Thorn’s enemies found him here on Nova Angeles, all heck could break loose—and of course his father wouldn’t want Jerem and Miala caught up in it. “Okay, I won’t tell,” Jerem said. It was a little disappointing, but still, at least he knew Eryk Thorn was his father, and no one could take that away from him.

“Want to go in?” his father asked, and jerked a thumb back toward the house. “I think your mother might want to see the two of us.”

Jerem liked the sound of that.
The two of us
, he thought.
Me and my dad.

“Yeah, let’s go inside,” he replied. Then it would be the three of them, all together for the first time since he was born. He would actually have a real family, just like he’d seen on the vids. Except his would be even better, because Eryk Thorn was his father.

Grinning at the prospect, he raced toward the house, not looking to see if the mercenary was following him. Somehow Jerem knew that, from now on, he would be there.

XVIII

Through an enormous effort of will, Miala stayed behind in the house, even though she longed to walk beside Eryk Thorn as he went off to meet their son. But she also knew that it was important for Jerem to meet his father without her hovering in the background, so instead she took refuge in the kitchen, where she tried to occupy herself with preparing food worthy of such a momentous occasion.

The house provided labor-saving devices that took all the drudgery out of such a task, and over the years Miala had come to enjoy the time she spent in the kitchen. Back on Iradia she had cooked for her father because they couldn’t afford to do otherwise, but once she realized she could expend her efforts on combining ingredients with care and imagination, preparing meals became an outlet for her creativity instead of a daily chore to be dreaded.

So she took stock of the components available in the refrigeration unit, steaks and the lovely delicate shellfish that were caught locally, and set to work, trying to keep her mind away from what Jerem and Thorn might be saying to one another. Miala was very proud of her son, recognizing in him much of the resourcefulness and careful wit she had seen in his father. But even in one who had a maturity beyond his years—the occasional prank notwithstanding—such news could very well be world-shattering.

Troubled, she was just reaching into the cupboards for her large tempered-glass salad bowl when the wall-mounted comm beeped. With a sigh, Miala turned and hit the switch. Risa’s familiar face immediately appeared on the flat video monitor.

Risa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Back already?”

“It’s a long story.”
And I hope you never ask me for all the details, either
, Miala thought, but she merely looked back at Risa and waited.

“Well, okay—you just surprised me. I thought I was going to get Jerem. And I’m sorry—I just completely forgot it was a short day at school, or I would have been there already. Then that damn decorator dropped in the office out of the blue with those new blinds you ordered—”

Miala held up a hand, stopping Risa’s headlong rush of words. If nothing else, the explanations and excuses brought her back to the normal round of her life. Even a few days away from Nova Angeles had made Miala forget that here she had so many little commonplaces to attend to—school schedules, meal planning, even that annoying decorator, the one who felt that keeping appointments was beneath him because he was so in demand. She wondered suddenly what in the world Risa would think of Eryk Thorn.

“It’s all right, Risa,” Miala said. “I’m home now, and Jerem hadn’t managed to get into any trouble, so it’s no problem you not being here.”

Risa bit her lip. “Well, about that whole ‘not getting into trouble’ thing—”

I should have known
. But she said only, “What now?”

“I guess Jerem and his friends thought it would be funny to reprogram the holo-sign at the school—” And Risa launched into an entire recounting of Jerem’s latest exploit, along with the dressing-down he’d gotten from Dr. Chand.

Throughout the story Miala could only feel a sort of tired thankfulness that it hadn’t been anything worse. For a moment she had the thought that perhaps she should just let this one slide, in light of Eryk Thorn’s reappearance, but then she decided Jerem shouldn’t get away with the prank without facing some sort of consequences. Besides, it would probably do Thorn good to know exactly what he was getting into with his son.