My heart started pounding again. If Morgan found Elaine, there were about a million things that might happen, and none of them were good. There seemed little I could do, though. I couldn't warn her, and I couldn't think of a way to get Morgan out of my apartment any faster.
Morgan peered through the doorway and looked around, then abruptly let out a hoarse cry and jumped back. At the same time, there was a harsh feline yowl, and Mister, my bobtailed grey cat, came zooming out of the bedroom. He darted between Morgan's legs and then streaked past him, out of the apartment and up the stairs into the summer evening.
"Gosh, Morgan," I said, "my cat might be a dangerous subversive. Maybe you'd better interrogate him."
Morgan straightened, his face slightly red. He coughed and then stalked to the door. "The Senior Council members wish me to tell you that they will be nearby but that they will not interfere in this Trial or aid you in any way." He took a business card out of his shirt pocket and let it fall to the floor. "That's the contact number for the Senior Council. Use it when you have failed the Trial."
"Don't let the door hit you on the brain on the way out," I responded.
Morgan glared at me as he left. He slammed the door behind him and stomped up the stairs.
I started trembling maybe half a minute after he left - reaction to the stress. At least I hadn't done it in front of him. I turned around, leaned back against the door with my eyes closed, and folded my arms over my chest. It was easier not to feel myself shaking that way.
Another minute or two passed before I heard Elaine move quietly out of my bedroom. The fire popped and crackled.
"Are they gone?" Elaine asked. Her voice was very carefully steady.
"Yeah. Though I wouldn't put it past them to watch my place."
I felt her fingers touch my shoulder. "You're shaking, Harry."
"I'll be all right."
"You could have killed him," Elaine said. "When you first drew."
"Yeah."
"Was he really setting you up like you said?"
I looked at her. Her expression was worried. "Yeah," I said.
"God, Harry." She shook her head. "That's way past paranoia. And you want me to give myself to those people?"
I covered her hand with mine. "Not to them," I said. "Not everyone on the Council is like that."
She looked at my eyes for a moment. Then, carefully, she drew her hand out from under mine. "No. I'm not going to make myself vulnerable to men like that. Not again."
"Elaine," I protested.
She shook her head. "I'm leaving, Harry." She brushed her hair back from her face. "Are you going to tell them?"
I took a deep breath. If the Wardens found out that Elaine was still alive and avoiding them, there would be a literal witch-hunt. The Wardens weren't exactly known for their tolerance and understanding. Morgan was walking, talking proof of that. Anyone who helped shield her from the Wardens would get the same treatment. Didn't I already have enough problems?
"No," I said. "Of course not."
Elaine gave me a strained smile. "Thank you, Harry." She lifted her staff closer to her, holding it with both hands. "Can you get the door for me?"
"They're going to be out there watching."
"I'll veil. They won't see me."
"They're good."
She shrugged and said without emphasis, "I'm better. I've had practice."
I shook my head. "What are we going to do about the faeries?"
"I don't know," she said. "I'll be in touch."
"How can I contact you?"
She nodded toward the door. I opened it. She stepped up beside me and kissed my cheek again, her lips warm. "You're the one with the office and the answering service. I'll contact you." Then she stepped to the door, murmuring quietly under her breath. There was a glitter of sudden silver light around her that made me blink. When I opened my eyes again, she was gone.
I left the door open for a moment, and it was just as well that I did. Mister came padding back down the stairs a moment later and looked up at me with a plaintive meow. He prowled back into the apartment, curling around my legs and purring like a diesel engine. Mister is thirty pounds or so of tomcat. I figure one of his parents must have been a saber-toothed tiger. "Good timing, by the way," I told him, and shut the door, locking it.
I stood in the dim, warm firelight of the room. My cheek still tingled where Elaine had kissed it. I could smell her lingering perfume, and it brought with it a pang of almost tangible memories, a flood of things I thought I had forgotten. It made me feel old, and tired, and very alone.
I walked to the mantel and straightened the card Susan had sent me the previous Christmas. I looked at her picture, next to the card. She'd been in a park that weekend, wearing a blue tank top and cutoff shorts. Her teeth were impossibly white against her darkly tanned skin and coal-black hair. I'd taken the picture while she was laughing, and her dark eyes shone.
I shook my head. "I am tired, Mister," I said. "I am ridiculously tired."
Mister meowed at me.
"Well, resting would be the sane thing to do, but who am I to throw stones, right? I mean, I'm talking to my cat." I scratched at my beard and nodded to myself. "Just a minute on the couch. Then to work."
I remember sitting down on the couch, and after that everything went blissfully black.
Which was just as well. The next day things got complicated.
Chapter Ten
I wasn't too tired to dream. Evidently, my subconscious - we've met, and he's kind of a jerk - had something on his mind, because the dream was a variation on the theme that had taken up most of my sleeping hours since I'd last seen Susan.
The dream began with a kiss.
Susan has a gorgeous mouth. Not too thin and not too full. Always soft, always warm. When she kissed me, it was like the world went away. Nothing mattered but the touch of her lips on mine. I kissed the dream-Susan, and she melted against me with a soft sound, the length of her body pliant, eager. Her fingers reached up and trailed over my chest, nails lightly raking.
I leaned back from the kiss after a long moment, and my eyes felt almost too heavy to open. My lips quivered and tingled with sensation, a feeling that begged for more kisses to make it cease. She looked up at me, dark eyes smoldering. Her hair had been pulled back into a long, silken tail that fell between her shoulder blades. It had grown longer, in the dreams. Her lovely aquiline face tilted up toward mine.
"Are you all right?" I asked her. I always did. And, as always, she gave me a small, sad smile and did not answer. I bit my lip. "I'm still looking. I haven't given up."