Taltos (Lives of the Mayfair Witches 3)

Yuri seemed torn inside, as if he would lose control finally. But he remained motionless, leaning against the wall, merely watching.

Ash's eyes were now playful, yet adoring, as he rocked his head and swayed more freely, and moved even more quickly.

On and on they danced, spinning along the edge of the pool of light, into shadow and out of it, serenading one another. Tessa's face was ecstatic as that of a little girl whose greatest wish has been granted her.

It seemed to Michael that they should withdraw--Rowan, Yuri, and he--and leave them to their poignant and gentle union. Perhaps it was the only embrace they'd ever really know with each other. And they seemed now to have forgotten their watchers, and whatever lay ahead of them.

But he couldn't go. No one moved to go, and on and on the dance went until the rhythm slowed, until the instruments played more softly, warning that they would soon take their leave, and the overlapping lines of the canon blending in one last full-throated voice and then slacking, drawing away, the trumpet giving forth a final mournful note, and then silence.

The couple stopped in the very center of the floor, the light spilling down over their faces and their shimmering hair.

Michael rested against the stones, unable to move, only watching them.

Music like that could hurt you. It gave you back your disappointment, and your emptiness. It said, Life can be this. Remember this.

Silence.

Ash lifted the hands of the fairyqueen, looking at them carefully as he did so. Then he kissed her upturned palms and he let her go. And she stood staring at him, as if in love, perhaps not with him, perhaps with the music and the dance and the light, with everything.

He led her back to her loom, gently urging her to sit again on her stool, and then he turned her head so that her eyes fell on her old task, and as she peered at the tapestry, she seemed to forget that he was there. Her fingers reached for the threads, and began immediately to work.

Ash drew back, careful not to make a sound, and then he turned and looked at Stuart Gordon.

No plea or protest came from the old man, fallen to one side in the chair, his eyes moving without urgency from Ash to Tessa and then to Ash again.

The awful moment had come, perhaps. Michael didn't know. But surely some story, some long explanation, some desperate narrative would forestall it. Gordon had to try. Somebody had to try. Something had to happen to save this miserable human being; simply because he was that, something had to prevent this imminent execution.

"I want the names of the others," said Ash in the usual mild fashion. "I want to know who your cohorts were, both within and outside the Order."

Stuart took his time in answering. He didn't move, or look away from Ash. "No," he said finally. "Those names I will never give you."

It sounded as final as anything Michael had ever heard. And the man, in his pain, seemed beyond any form of persuasion.

Ash began to walk calmly towards Gordon.

"Wait," said Michael "Please, Ash, wait."

Ash stopped, politely looking to Michael.

"What is it, Michael?" he asked, as if he could not possibly presume to know.

"Ash, let him tell us what he knows," Michael said. "Let him give us his story!"

Seventeen

EVERYTHING WAS CHANGED. Everything was easier. She lay in Morrigan's arms and Morrigan lay in hers and--

It was evening when she opened her eyes.

What a great dream that had been. It was as if Gifford and Alicia and Ancient Evelyn had been with her, and there was no death and no suffering, and they had been together, dancing even, yes, dancing, in a circle.

She felt so good! Let it fade; the feeling remained with her. The sky was Michael's violet.

And there was Mary Jane standing over her, looking so goddamned cute with her flaxen yellow hair.

"You're Alice in Wonderland," said Mona, "that's who you are. I should nickname you Alice."

Going to be perfect, I promise you.

"I cooked the supper," said Mary Jane. "I told Eugenia to take the night off, hope you don't mind, when I saw that pantry I went crazy."

" 'Course I don't mind," said Mona. "Help me up, you're a real cousin."

She jumped up refreshed, feeling so light and free, like the baby tumbling inside, the baby with its long red hair swishing in the fluid, like a teeny rubbery doll with the teensiest little knobby knees....

"I cooked yams, rice, and baked oysters in cheese, and broiled chicken with butter and tarragon."

"Wherever did you learn to cook like that?" asked Mona. Then she stopped and threw her arms around Mary Jane. "There's nobody like us, is there? I mean, you know your blood, don't you?"

Mary Jane beamed at her. "Yeah, it's just wonderful. I love you, Mona Mayfair."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear it," said Mona.

They had reached the kitchen doors, and Mona peered inside.

"God, you did cook a big supper."

"You better believe it," said Mary Jane proudly, again displaying her perfect white teeth. "I could cook when I was six years old. My mama was living with this chef then?? You know?? And then later on, I worked in a fancy restaurant in Jackson, Mississippi. Jackson's the capital, remember? This was a place where the senators ate. And I told them, 'You want me to work here, then you let me watch when the cook's doing things, you let me learn what I can.' What do you want to drink?"

"Milk, I'm starving for it," said Mona. "Don't run inside yet. Look, it's the magic time of twilight. This is Michael's favorite time."

If only she could remember in the dream who had been with her. Only the feeling of love lingered, utterly comforting love.

For a moment she worried fiercely for Rowan and Michael. How would they ever solve the mystery of who killed Aaron? But together they could probably defeat anybody, that is, if they really cooperated, and Yuri, well, Yuri's destiny had never been meant to involve itself with hers.

Everybody would understand when the time came.

The flowers had begun to glow. It was as if the garden were singing. She slumped against the door frame, humming with the flowers, humming as if the song were being made known to her by some remote part of her memory where beautiful and delicate things were never forgotten, but only securely stored. She could smell some perfume in the air--ah, it was the sweet olive trees!

"Honey, let's eat now," said Mary Jane.

"Very well, very well!" Mona sighed, threw up her arms and said farewell to the night, and then went inside.

She drifted into the kitchen, as if in a delicious trance, and sat down at the lavish table that Mary Jane had set for them. She'd taken out the Royal Antoinette china, the most delicate pattern of all, with fluted and gilded edges to the plates and saucers. Clever girl, such a wonderful clever girl. How unboring of her to have found the very best china by instinct. This cousin opened up a whole vista of possibilities, but how adventuresome was she, really? And how naive of Ryan to have dropped her off here, and left the two of them alone!

"I never saw china like that," Mary Jane was saying, bubbling away. "It's just like it's made of stiff starch cloth. How do they do it?" Mary Jane had just come back with a carton of milk and a box of powdered chocolate.

"Don't put that poison in the milk, please," said Mona, as she snatched the carton, tore it open, and filled her glass.

"I mean, how can they make china that's not flat, I don't get it, unless the china's soft like dough before they bake it, but even then--"

"Haven't the faintest idea," said Mona, "but I have always adored this pattern. Doesn't look good in the dining room. It's overshadowed by the murals. But looks absolutely splendid on this kitchen table, and how smart of you to have found the Battenburg lace table mats. I'm starving again, and we just had lunch. This is glorious, let's pig out now."

"We didn't just have lunch, and you didn't eat a thing," said Mary Jane. "I was scared to death you might mind me touching these things, but then I thought, 'If Mona Mayfair

minds, I'll just slap-bang put them all away, like I found them.' "

"My darling, the house is ours for now," said Mona triumphantly.

God, the milk was good. She'd splashed it on the table, but it was so good, so good, so good.

Drink more of it.

"I am, I'm drinking it," she said.

"You're telling me," said Mary Jane, sitting down beside her. All the serving bowls were full of delectable and scrumptious things.

Mona heaped the steaming rice on her plate. Forget the gravy. This was wonderful. She began to eat it, not waiting for Mary Jane to serve herself, who was too busy dropping spoon after spoon of dirty chocolate powder into her own milk.

"Hope you don't mind. I just love chocolate. I can't live for too long without chocolate. There was a time when I made chocolate sandwiches, you know???? You know how to do that? You slap a couple Hershey bars between white bread, and you put sliced bananas and sugar too, and I'm telling you, that's delicious."

"Oh, I understand, might feel the same way if I wasn't pregnant. I once devoured an entire box of chocolate-covered cherries." Mona ate one big forkful of the rice after another. No chocolate could equal this. The chocolate-covered cherries had faded to an idea. And now the funniest thing. The white bread. It looked good too. "You know, I think I need complex carbohydrates," she said. "That's what my baby is telling me."

Laughing, or was it singing?

No problem; this was all so simple, so natural; she felt in harmony with the whole world, and it wouldn't be difficult to bring Michael and Rowan in harmony also. She sat back. A vision had taken hold of her, a vision of the sky speckled with all the visible stars. The sky was arched overhead, black and pure and cold, and people were singing, and the stars were magnificent, simply magnificent.

"What's that song you're humming?" asked Mary Jane.

"Shhh, hear that?"