Five Odd Honors (26 page)

Human hearts do burn. And cool.

“Thank you, Franklin,” she said.

They might have said more, but at that moment a car—Franklin’s car, driven by a Chinese American Pearl vaguely recognized—pulled up and disgorged Dr. Broderick Pike of the Rosicrucian Museum. With him was a severe looking woman Pearl vaguely recognized as a member of the museum’s staff.

Both started running as soon as they saw her sprawled, bloodied and battered,on the sidewalk. The driver turned away, and Pearl guessed from the angle of his shoulders he was fighting the urge to vomit.

I must look pretty bad,
she thought, relaxing to accept the others’ ministrations. For the first time, she became aware of the roughness of the sidewalk, of the cooler patches in shadow as it gave up the heat stored during the day.

Questions were being asked, mostly by Pike, and answered by Deng. Awash with exhaustion, Pearl lay back and let the woman—who seemed to have a good knowledge of conventional medicine—examine her wounds. Blood was washed away, an IV hooked up.

“No drugs,” Pearl rasped.

“No drugs,” the woman agreed. “Just liquid. You’re badly dehydrated. Do you know your blood type?”

Pearl told her. She heard the woman making a phone call.

Dr. Pike had hunkered down next to her. “Pearl, is there anyone staying with you at your house?”

“No.”

“Shall I call one of your brothers?”

“Albert Yu.”

“Right.”

More beeping. Voices. Pearl felt herself being lifted into the backseat of Franklin Deng’s car. It was less crowded than she thought it should be, and she heard the woman explaining.

“Dr. Pike is staying to make sure the blood is washed off the sidewalk. He’ll arrange a tow for your car. It seems fine, both on a mechanical level and otherwise, but we thought it best not to take chances.”

Pearl nodded. She drifted off to sleep. Later, she woke as they transferred her into a building. Not her house. She forced her eyes open and recognized one of the private buildings on the Rosicrucian Museum grounds. She drifted off again.

When next she woke, a new voice had joined the conversational symphony, and her head was much more clear.

Albert Yu saying, “Franklin, I deeply appreciate your saving Pearl—and I’m sure she will, too, but I admit I’m a bit puzzled as to how you happened to be so opportunely present.”

Franklin Deng: “I have been monitoring the activities of your cabal. I admit, after being told so very pointedly that I should not interfere, I almost did not. However, after further thought, it seemed to me that what was happening was that someone—or some thing—was interfering with Pearl. Therefore, I was not interfering with you so much as facilitating your progress.”

Broderick Pike, very, very dryly: “I admire the logic, and certainly applaud the end result. When I remained to clean up the area around the car, I found no traces of residual mana. The attacker left a faint signature on the vehicle, a psychic footprint. It was already fading out, but I made a recording.”

Pike’s voice muttering a few words in corrupted Latin. Then Franklin Deng: “I’ve seen something like that. Embodiment of the element of metal—much as the dragon can be embodied water.”

“Yes,” Albert agreed. “I have done some studying of the indigenous Chinese traditions, and my understanding is that these spirits are not at all well known here—not as dragons are, for example.”

A slight noise, probably mild indignation from Deng who, as Pearl knew all too well, resented that the Orphans had access to his traditions while he did not have access to theirs.

Albert went on. “But from what I have gathered from talking to Uncle Shen—that is, Shen Kung—and Righteous Drum—one of our allies—the magical traditions in the Lands embrace a much wider variety of supernatural entities. They also have a considerable attachment to elemental magics.”

Dr. Pike: “So are you saying you suspect this attack came from your enemies?”

“I do.” Albert’s tone shifted slightly, containing both amusement and acid. “Not that I do not think Franklin Deng or one of his allies is incapable of such a summoning, but I do not think it likely in this case.”

Pearl found herself stifling a chuckle and turned the sound into a little moan, such as an injured person might make upon coming conscious.

“Aunt Pearl? How do you feel?”

“Tired. Home?”

“I can take you to your house. We’re next door. Dr. Pike brought you to the museum to give me time to drive from San Francisco.”

“Deng okay?”

“Yes. Franklin’s fine. He burned quite a lot of ch’i aiding you, but he’s recovering well.”

“Good. Thank him.”

She raised her head slightly from the pillow as she spoke, but now she let it sag back as if even that small effort had been too much. If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted it almost had been, but she wasn’t in the habit of being honest when it came to admitting weakness.

Pearl felt herself being moved, possibly onto the same stretcher that had once carried a battered Waking Lizard. The thought made her sad.

Waking Lizard has gone ahead,
she thought.
I wonder when I’ll follow. Not quite yet, please heavens. So much I want to do. So very, very much I want to do.

The evening was warm and pleasant, a breeze from somewhere breaking up the August heat so that the four University of South Carolina students’ walk to the coffee house was actually quite nice. The sidewalk wasn’t really wide enough for more than two to walk side by side, and so Brenda found herself walking with Parnell.

He grinned at her, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “I guess I challenged him.” He tossed his head to indicate where Dermott was walking with Shannon. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

Brenda snorted disbelief. “Yeah, right. You flirt with a guy’s girlfriend, and you don’t think he’ll take offense?”

Parnell’s grin didn’t fade, and Brenda was glad that scattered light from the street lamps hid the blush she could feel burning in her cheeks.

“Parnell,” she said, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. “That’s not a really usual name.”

“Know where it comes from?” he asked, turning that wicked grin on her. “There’ll be a prize if you’re right.”

Brenda thought about asking what prize, then decided she didn’t want to risk his answer.

“My guess is Irish history. Charles Stewart Parnell. Home rule. Rumblings of rebellion, all that.”

“Charles Stewart Parnell, called by many Ireland’s uncrowned king,” Parnell agreed cheerfully. “That’s the answer. The rebel leader brought low by a woman—or by the Catholic Church. Depends on how you want to look at the situation with Mrs. O’Shea. Really, Parnell’s become almost a mythical figure.”

“A lot to take on,” Brenda said, thinking of the Orphans, of dreams, of a young man with long black hair who didn’t laugh quite this easily, but warmed her heart when he smiled. “Being mythic.”

“You’d know,” Parnell said, “wouldn’t you?”

He reached out, and Brenda thought he was going to take her hand, but instead he touched the mah-jong tile bracelet on her left wrist.

“Wouldn’t you?” Parnell repeated.

Brenda blinked at him, but she wasn’t going to say anything. That lesson had been drummed into her over and over again. You didn’t talk about magical things except with those you knew were in on the secret. You didn’t e-mail about them. You didn’t talk about them on the phone. Despite the eerie familiarity of those green eyes, Brenda wasn’t going to break that rule here.

“Shannon,” she called, “just where are you taking us?”

“Koffee Klatche,” Shannon said. “They’re open late and they have desserts—unless your summer in healthy California has made you swear off ice cream.”

“Absolutely not,” Brenda said. “It has made me very much swear on to desserts. I want a sundae. Butterscotch and hot fudge on pecan chocolate ice cream.”

Parnell made a mock expression of horror. “Good thing the euro is strong right now.”

Shannon looked surprised. “You’re treating?”

“Sure. Least I can do when you and Dermott came to get me from the airport and then agreed to show me about. If you want to hit a pub . . .”

“Not legal,” Dermott said primly. “We don’t need to get busted our first couple of days back.”

“Do we ever need to get busted?” Parnell asked, touching up his brogue just a bit.

Brenda laughed, and Dermott’s wooden expression melted away.

“I guess not,” he admitted, “but I’ll take you up on the treat and thank you for it.”

After quantities of ice cream—the two boys decided to compete to complete a massive confection called an Ice Age—t hey walked for a while, showing Parnell the older section of campus around the Horse shoe.

Shannon had worked that summer as a tour guide for prospective students, and knew lots of cute little facts. They were having quite a good time, but eventually Shannon started yawning.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Long day.”

Brenda laughed. “I guess it is. Midnight here is nine at Pearl’s. Made Mom crazy that I couldn’t seem to adjust.”

As if on cue, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the read-out and saw Pearl’s home number.

“I guess someone there has forgotten, too. Just a sec.”

She stepped a few paces away and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Brenda, this is Albert.”

“Hi.” Brenda tried to remember if Albert had ever phoned her, and decided that he had not. Her pulse quickened and she took a few more steps away from the others. “Have you heard from—”

“The scouts? No. I’m calling because Pearl had an accident to night.”

The way he inflected “accident” made Brenda think he meant otherwise. Remembering the rules about communicating via phone, she quickly sought a way to ask.

“Anything like when she got those thorns—was it twenty-seven or only ten?—in her hand?”

“Something like that,” Albert said. “She’s going to be fine, but she wanted everyone to know. You know how superstitious she can be. She keeps saying bad things happen in threes.”

Brenda doubted that Pearl had said anything of the sort. Despite having spent the formative years of her life on stage and screen, Pearl was probably the least superstitious person Brenda had met.

I guess it comes from knowing what’s real and what’s not,
Brenda thought. Aloud she said, “I understand. I’ll be really careful. I have those lucky bracelets she taught me how to make, and I don’t take them off.”

“Very good,” Albert said. “Aunt Pearl is sleeping now, but I’ll tell her what you said.”

“Thanks, Albert.”

The connection went dead, but Brenda stood there for a while, staring at her phone.

Shannon called softly, “Something wrong?”

“A little,” Brenda said, sliding the phone back into her purse. “My mentor was in an accident. She’ll be okay. Someone called to let me know in case I saw something on the news or on the Web and got worried.”

“That’s right,” Shannon said with a sort of reflected pride, “she’s sort of famous, isn’t she?”

“Pearl would be the last person to think so,” Brenda said. “I bet this won’t even make a small line in entertainment news.”

“Still,” Dermott said. “It’s good to be careful. You would have gotten a nasty shock.”

“Yes,” Parnell agreed, and Brenda had the feeling he was talking about something quite different than merely getting startled by reading the information that a friend had been in an accident. “It’s good to be careful. Very wise indeed.”