He lost.
The experience left him drained. Jensen caught him rubbing his eyes and suggested that the party break up. "I'll think it over while I sleep," he promised Valentine. Valentine then accepted an invitation to stay in a guest bedroom.
The bedrooms all opened on the same balcony as the dining room. All had similar French doors open, inviting the soft night air. Valentine's room held the same cluttered
hodgepodge of antiques-only the ticking on the mattress looked new. He found an old laminated "guest services menu" inside a nightstand drawer and relaxed, imagining the luxuries of a bygone age. Jasmine perfumed the air. What sort of assignations had transpired in the days when the Residence was just another luxurious rental property on Jamaica's sunny coast? He hung up his cumberbund and short jacket and tried to relax in bed, but his mind wouldn't let him sleep. He went out onto the balcony, barefoot on the cool concrete, and looked down at the moored hospital ship, the smaller Thunderbolt, and the town of Jayport.
Light still fell out the doorway from the dining room, though less than when they'd been shuffling tiles under the chandelier. Perhaps the commodore was an insomniac. Valentine walked softly to the edge of the light.
It was Carrasca, with her thick hair released from its confinement. She still had the mah-jongg tiles out, arranged in a three-tiered pile that looked like a Japanese castle. She tapped two of the tiles together as she stared at the arrangement, her lower lip thrust out in thought, a half-filled glass of wine on the table. Her wide-lapeled jacket hung on the back of her chair, and she'd partially unbuttoned her shirt. Valentine saw now that the shirt was far too big for her. Perhaps it had belonged to her father.
Valentine cleared his throat.
Carrasca glanced out the open doors. Then she jumped in her chair with a shocked gasp. Mah-jongg pieces skittered across the dinner table.
"Sorry to sneak up on you," Valentine said. He took a step into the light.
"Mother of- You frightened me."
Valentine noticed her arms were goose pimpled. "I'm sorry. Wrong of me to creep around my hosts' house."
"No, not that. Your eyes." She rattled out the words sta-catto.
"My eyes?"
She shivered again. "They were-glowing."
Perfect. You're the wolfman to her now, Ghost. "Glowing?"
"Like an animal's at night, a cat's. Sort of orange yellow. I've never seen a man's eyes do that."
"Maybe they caught the light just right."
"Maybe. Maybe my imagination, too. Long day," she said, her words returning to their usual genteel pace.
"Sony about your stack. What were you doing?"
"You can play mah-jongg solitare, too. You take the chips out of the bag and stack them in a certain way. The trick is to not look at the ones on the lower levels as you put it together. Then you pull them off in matching pairs."
"Didn't get enough after dinner?"
"I couldn't sleep. It relaxes me. My mind had too much to work on. This is like counting sheep."
"I'm sorry your parents came up in the conversation."
Some of the warmth that had been in her eyes earlier in the evening returned. "No. Oh, no, it wasn't that. You see, my grandfather talked to Captain Utari earlier. The commodore decided to let me captain the Thunderbolt. My first real command."
She led him out onto the balcony, and they looked down into the bay. The Thunderbolt looked like a toy ship.
"You're lucky Utari didn't want her."
She smiled. "He hates anything without a sail. Says there's no seamanship in engines."
"But you don't feel that way."
"You don't know sailors, David. My first real ship. My first command. I loved her even as we limped into the harbor." The light trickling out of the dining room played across her dusky features. "I can't wait to put her to sea again. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Valentine could have said the same about the Thunderbolt's new commander. He would have, if there hadn't been a hint of anxiety in her eyes as she met his gaze, wary against the return of that inhuman glow.