War for the Oaks by Emma Bull

go with her just for the sake of having three women in the band."
    "But. . . ?"
    "I don't know. She had something missing. Maybe a lack of imagination or something." Eddi sighed and fell back onto the rug. "Maybe I'm being too picky," she said to the rafters.
    "No. You can afford to wait. Find precisely what you want."
    "All of today wasted, then."
    "Why do you feel so pressed for time?" he asked. His voice was a little sad, and she looked at him in surprise. "If the band distresses you so, then you need not have one. I only threw in my lot with Carla because you seemed to want work."
    Eddi shook her head. "Carla knows me better than I do. I would have gone bats without this. It's the only thing I really know."
    "But it seems to swallow you up. You've gone forward like a horse in blinders, seeing only ahead, only the band."
    She frowned at him and looked away into the shadowed rafters. She realized with a rush of fear that there might be room there for something to hide—and knew the answer to the phouka's question.
    "What is it?" he said.
    "What's what?"
    "I thought I saw you shiver."
    Eddi shook her head. "Oh, hell," she said finally. "Why act brave? If I think about the band all the time, you see, I don't think about . . ."
    The phouka looked stricken. "Ah. About my people's little quarrel, and your part in it. Are you so frightened, then?"
    Eddi discovered that ignoring the problem for several days only made her feel worse now. "Oh, for godsake, a bunch of people out of a horror movie want me dead! And I'm not supposed to be scared?"
    The phouka took both of her hands in his. His grip was hard, but not painful.
    "Eddi," he said, "I will protect you. They will not—they cannot—get past me to strike at you."
    She laughed hollowly. "You know, a girl learns to tell when a guy is making her a promise he can't keep."
    "Haven't I kept it thus far?"
    "I don't know. Have they made any more tries at me?" He scowled and looked away.

    "Have they?"
    He nodded, a curt bob of his head.
    She drew her hands out of his. "Oh."
    "I hadn't meant to tell you. I thought to spare you the worry."
    "Wouldn't it be easier," Eddi asked after a moment, "if you didn't have to guard me
and
keep me in the dark about it?"
    "Yes," he agreed, but hesitantly.
    "Well, then," Eddi said, "let's get all the skeletons out of the closet."
    The door to the outside swung slowly open.
    The phouka was on his feet blindingly fast, standing between Eddi and the door. She looked past his kneecap and saw a man framed in the doorway, caught in the darkness between the outside and inside lights.
    "Excuse me," said the man, "I should have called first. A friend told me you were looking for a guitarist . . . ?"
    His voice was the first clear impression Eddi had of him. It was low, resonant, and musical, with what seemed like a pleasant accent, until she realized that it was an
absence
of accent. Then he stepped into the room and the light. Eddi thought for a moment of porcelain, but she had never seen anything made of porcelain that looked delicate and rugged at once.
    He was tall and slender and interestingly pale. His face was longish, with high, wide cheekbones and a pointed chin, and his eyes, under black lashes and brows, were a breathtaking green. Shining blue-black hair spilled over his forehead in appealing disarray, and Eddi saw that what she had at first taken for reflected light was a wide white streak in his hair, a little off center. He wore a black leather jacket and tight black jeans. Somehow they seemed to bring color into the room.
    "Come in," Eddi thought to say, once she could speak at all.
    The man looked at the phouka, who hadn't moved since the door opened, and nodded. Then he turned away to bring in the things he'd left on the landing, and the phouka stirred and flexed his hands. Eddi wished she could see his expression.
    The man in black returned with a scuffed guitar case, a good-sized amp, an accessory bag, and a smaller case that he carried