stared at the other, hunger making him yearn even as fear kept him still. Then one of the slender creatures approached the other, taking it by the arm the way Stjerne took hold of him, leading it away.
The moment, the chance, was lost.
He turned away, turning his back on the now-abandoned fountain. “She would be upset. It would make her sad.” He didn’t know how he knew this, but it was true: he was not to speak to another mortal. It would make Stjerne unhappy if he did so, and he lived to make her happy. When she was pleased with him, her touch was soft and soothing. When she was angry... He shuddered. Therefore, he could not speak to another. If she was unhappy...
If she was angry, she might go away forever, next time. They would hurt him again, put him in the chair and scrape him out from the inside, and that time she would not stay with him, would not fill the emptiness inside him with herself.
He tried to imagine surviving without her and failed.
He hugged his arms around his bare chest, pressing the silver chain into his skin, bright against dark. This time, the itch against his skin was soothing, pleasure-pain, singing the promise of her return.
When he made it back to their rooms, he had forgotten seeing anyone by the fountain.
Chapter 5
T rying to set her companions up with computers had given Jan a new headache. “I still don’t get it,” she said in exasperation. “You drive cars. Hell, you steal cars, and you ride public transit, and apparently some of you buy your clothing at the mall, but none of you use the internet?” She had thought all she had to do was introduce them to the basics of social dating sites, not give them Internet 101. Hell, Computer 101.
“Most of us are the bucolic types,” Toba said, amused, and slightly faster on the uptake than Martin, not that that was saying much. “Not so much need to be connected to the masses of humanity. And if we wish to communicate with each other...” He paused. “We don’t, usually. AJ took on the leader of each group directly, to force them to listen, and even then, many refused to hear.”
“We’re also not much for paying for anything,” Martin said, frowning at the screen and then—successfully—entering one of the fake log-ins and getting a welcome screen. “We’re horrible mooches.”
“So noted.” Jan had already sussed that much from the way Martin had made himself at home in her kitchen. “But you have a cell phone?”
Toba chuckled. “Would you believe that I have a niece in Puerto Rico I like to keep in touch with? The younger generations are more adaptable—she likes to text.” He pulled a flip-phone from the pocket of his sweater—she was amused to note that his cardigan was exactly the same soft gray color her grandfather used to wear—and held it up somewhat sheepishly.
“You can’t talk to her by...” Jan floundered, not sure what she was going to say.
“We don’t do magic, human. We are magic. Shifting, flying, glamourizing...no wands, no spells, no magic tricks. Just...us. The way some humans sing, and others paint, and some of you—” he shrugged, his misshapen shoulders rising under the cardigan “—do other things, according to your nature.”
That made sense, she had to admit. And it explained why they all seemed so...normal. Then Toba blinked those golden eyes at her and clacked his beak in a faint laugh, and she amended that to mostly normal.
“It would be nice if you could at least spin straw into gold,” she said. “Although it’s not like I’ve got straw handy. All right, Martin, are you ready to try this on your own?”
He nodded enthusiastically and then lowered his chin slightly in thought. “Yes. Yes. If yellow-eyes can handle it, so can I.”
Jan had set Martin up with her old desktop for the initial demonstration. It was kludgy as hell at this point—she mainly used it as an extra monitor when she needed a larger display—but it would be enough for what they were
The moment, the chance, was lost.
He turned away, turning his back on the now-abandoned fountain. “She would be upset. It would make her sad.” He didn’t know how he knew this, but it was true: he was not to speak to another mortal. It would make Stjerne unhappy if he did so, and he lived to make her happy. When she was pleased with him, her touch was soft and soothing. When she was angry... He shuddered. Therefore, he could not speak to another. If she was unhappy...
If she was angry, she might go away forever, next time. They would hurt him again, put him in the chair and scrape him out from the inside, and that time she would not stay with him, would not fill the emptiness inside him with herself.
He tried to imagine surviving without her and failed.
He hugged his arms around his bare chest, pressing the silver chain into his skin, bright against dark. This time, the itch against his skin was soothing, pleasure-pain, singing the promise of her return.
When he made it back to their rooms, he had forgotten seeing anyone by the fountain.
Chapter 5
T rying to set her companions up with computers had given Jan a new headache. “I still don’t get it,” she said in exasperation. “You drive cars. Hell, you steal cars, and you ride public transit, and apparently some of you buy your clothing at the mall, but none of you use the internet?” She had thought all she had to do was introduce them to the basics of social dating sites, not give them Internet 101. Hell, Computer 101.
“Most of us are the bucolic types,” Toba said, amused, and slightly faster on the uptake than Martin, not that that was saying much. “Not so much need to be connected to the masses of humanity. And if we wish to communicate with each other...” He paused. “We don’t, usually. AJ took on the leader of each group directly, to force them to listen, and even then, many refused to hear.”
“We’re also not much for paying for anything,” Martin said, frowning at the screen and then—successfully—entering one of the fake log-ins and getting a welcome screen. “We’re horrible mooches.”
“So noted.” Jan had already sussed that much from the way Martin had made himself at home in her kitchen. “But you have a cell phone?”
Toba chuckled. “Would you believe that I have a niece in Puerto Rico I like to keep in touch with? The younger generations are more adaptable—she likes to text.” He pulled a flip-phone from the pocket of his sweater—she was amused to note that his cardigan was exactly the same soft gray color her grandfather used to wear—and held it up somewhat sheepishly.
“You can’t talk to her by...” Jan floundered, not sure what she was going to say.
“We don’t do magic, human. We are magic. Shifting, flying, glamourizing...no wands, no spells, no magic tricks. Just...us. The way some humans sing, and others paint, and some of you—” he shrugged, his misshapen shoulders rising under the cardigan “—do other things, according to your nature.”
That made sense, she had to admit. And it explained why they all seemed so...normal. Then Toba blinked those golden eyes at her and clacked his beak in a faint laugh, and she amended that to mostly normal.
“It would be nice if you could at least spin straw into gold,” she said. “Although it’s not like I’ve got straw handy. All right, Martin, are you ready to try this on your own?”
He nodded enthusiastically and then lowered his chin slightly in thought. “Yes. Yes. If yellow-eyes can handle it, so can I.”
Jan had set Martin up with her old desktop for the initial demonstration. It was kludgy as hell at this point—she mainly used it as an extra monitor when she needed a larger display—but it would be enough for what they were
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