The dance with Sigrid lingered in Will’s mind the rest of Friday and well into his dreams that night. Saturday morning, he awoke restless, edgy, and so hard, he could barely walk.
It was ridiculous how easily she aroused him.
As soon as he rolled out of bed, he texted Ethan Phillips, the People’s local doctor and a cousin on Will’s mother’s side, and arranged to meet the other Son in midmorning at the gym in Clayton. Sex was off the menu. Lifting weights wasn’t the best substitute, but it was better than nothing.
During the drive into the nearby town, Will’s thoughts inevitably turned to Sigrid. She’d been beautiful last night, radiant, like a goddess risen from the North Atlantic, cold and deadly and fierce.
Until that kiss.
Desire flickered through him, and he shifted in the seat of his truck, spreading his knees wide to accommodate his burgeoning erection. Sweet Mother, she’d felt so good rubbing up against him with her hands on his chest and her mouth so giving under his. Another kiss like that, and he might drag her into his office and take her whether they were both ready or not.
He wasn’t.
The lone car ahead of him slowed as it approached a steep curve near the local public library. Will eased off the gas and applied the brake automatically, his thoughts tangled in a knot over Sigrid.
Did she want him or not? And if she did, was he really prepared for what that entailed? Two years of wanting her might not be enough when push came to shove. Or maybe it would weaken him to her, breaking him when he most needed to stand firm, and in the doing, he would lose her.
Ahead, the other car’s left turn signal blinked on, and it turned onto the back street leading to downtown. Will waited for it to clear the lane, then matched his truck’s speed to the posted limit as he drove past the library and the civic center into downtown Clayton.
She enjoyed his kisses, that was pretty damn clear, and she claimed to want him. Why else would she take the time to track down his name and address, take him to lunch, and make a point of dancing with him?
Then again, why had she broken her promise to meet him earlier in the week? If it was all a game to her, why had she bothered to come back to The Omega? True, it was the only nightlife in Tellowee and a lot of the local People gathered there, but there were other options if she really needed to get out. Clayton wasn’t that far away and it had its fair share of restaurants and live music, especially in the summer. The music scene was slower now that true winter had arrived, but not that slow. There were still plenty of outsiders wandering through to keep things interesting.
Will huffed out a sigh, negotiated the last few turns into the gym’s parking lot, and parked. It was pointless to dwell on a Daughter’s reasons for doing anything. Sigrid would tell him what was going on or not, and nothing he said or did would change her mind either way. So far, the only thing that worked on her was kissing her into silence.
Oddly enough, he was ok with that.
A sleek, black Tesla Model S pulled up beside Will’s truck. He snagged his gym bag, slid out of his truck, and grinned at Ethan over the top of the other Son’s car. “Snazzy ride.”
Ethan laughed and slammed his car door shut. “You’re just aiming for a turn behind the wheel.”
“Absolutely.”
They met on the sidewalk and walked in together, a sharp contrast in looks, if not in build. Ethan was maybe two inches taller than Will and had darker skin and auburn hair, though they both shared the light green eyes that seemed to pop up in random intervals in their line of the family, no doubt inherited from some captured mate. It wasn’t unusual for Daughters to kidnap men with uncommon traits and breed with them, hoping to improve their offspring’s chances of surviving in a world that too often sought to destroy them.
The gym was packed with men and women of all ages and shapes. Will nodded at two Daughters he knew more by sight than anything, then he and Ethan headed toward the men’s locker room, ignoring the gazes of the mortal women tracking their progress.
They’d worked out together enough to understand each other’s routines. By unspoken consent, they headed for the free weights, eschewing the machines, and settled into a steady, upper body workout. No competitive muscle flexing, no adversarial remarks, just the nice, relaxing burn of man versus iron.
During a lull between biceps curls and bench presses, Ethan rubbed a towel over his face, drying off the sweat, and leveled a speculative gaze on Will. “So tell me, cuz. How does a Son handle two Daughters in one night?”
Will’s heart thumped once. He snagged his bottle of water and hid his nerves behind a long, slow sip. Friggin’ grapevine. Nobody could get away with anything in Tellowee without rumor spreading like wildfire.
He set the water aside, then adjusted the weights for the next set of reps. “If you came by The Omega more often, you’d figure that one out for yourself.”
Ethan shot Will a wicked grin, flashing even, white teeth. “I don’t have to stoop to bar crawling to get my women.”
“Yet somehow you managed to lose Serafina Noland to Levi Ewart.”
Ethan’s grin morphed into a sour scowl. “Low blow, man.”
“All’s fair in love and war.” Will jerked his chin at the weights. “Are we going to work out or what?”
“Work out.” Ethan laid down on the bench, curled his hands around the bar above him, and adjusted his position relative to it. “You’ve never been much for talking about women, but this evasiveness is bad, even for you.”
Will settled at the head of the bench, in the spotter’s position. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Doc.”
“I mean it.”
“I danced with two women in one night. Any other time you’d be congratulating me.”
“Any other time, I wouldn’t worry about your being in the middle of an epic catfight.” Ethan lifted the weighted bar off its supports and lowered it slowly to his chest. His breath hissed out steadily as he raised it high again. “Speaking of catfights, it’s been a while since we’ve had an exhibition.”
“School has one every month.”
“For the kids, yeah. What about for us? Grown men need to vent their aggression on a regular basis.”
Will grinned down at his cousin. “Is that your way of saying you want to have a go at Levi for stealing Serafina away from you?”
Ethan’s muttered curse ended in a huff as he finished his first set. “Just set one up. It’ll take all our minds off what’s going on.”
“Yeah, and help settle the restless natives, too.”
Will and Ethan exchanged positions. Will worked through half his reps, then said, “How’s the hospital doing on medical supplies?”
Ethan arched an eyebrow at Will. “I hadn’t planned on drawing blood when I dragged Levi onto the mat.”
Since Levi had just married his pretty little mortal, there was a good chance Ethan would be the one bleeding at the end of any fight between the two men, sanctioned or not.
Will shrugged off the possibilities, finished his reps, and set the bar back in its support. Ethan could take care of himself, the same as any Son, though most shied away from pursuing another Son’s woman. Nobody wanted a war with another family, especially when that other family included a Daughter like Hawthorne the Beheader, a newly appointed member of the Council of Seven. Will’s grandmother would feel duty bound to intercede on behalf of her long dead sister, Ethan’s ancestress. Since Anya was also a member of the People’s ruling body, the rift between her and Hawthorne could tear the People apart, just when they most needed to unite.
Will sat up and shook the faint muscle burn out of his arms. “We’ve got a lot of new faces in town.”
“Including one of the Daughters you danced with.” At Will’s even glance, Ethan shrugged. “Small town.”
“Yeah, well, we’re liable to get a huge influx of new faces into that small town over the next few weeks.”
“Rebecca’s been talking to you, too, huh?”
“Yeah. So, about those medical supplies.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Let me know if you need help stocking up or finding a place to store stuff. I may want you to go over the supplies stored at the Archives, too, and you might want to think about stocking up on blood, if you can.”
Ethan stilled, his expression suddenly serious. “It’s that bad?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Though in his gut, Will was beginning to feel the storm gathering around them. “Never hurts to be prepared.”
“I’ll second that.”
They finished their workout and arranged to meet early Monday afternoon for a game of one on one at the Rec Department’s gym in Tiger, south of Clayton. Will wiggled a promise out of Ethan to drop by The Omega that night, then he headed home and got ready for work, his body loose, his mind clearer than when he’d first awoken.
The morning after her dance with Will, Sigrid rose well before her usual waking time and grumbled into a steaming hot cup of coffee. What had gotten into her of late? He was just a man, like the many she’d had before, no more or less important than any other, and that’s exactly what had kept her sane through her centuries-long life.
He’d seemed reluctant.
She sighed and rubbed gritty eyes with her fingers, then plodded into her bathroom and set her coffee mug on the counter next to the sink. The problem here wasn’t Will. It was her strategy. Obviously the few days she’d needed to sort through her own intentions had driven a small wedge between them and cooled his ardor. That was in the past now and couldn’t be helped, but doubt remained in her mind over which path to take. Push him to accede to her demands, or give him time to grow accustomed to her?
So many doubts, where none had ever before dwelt.
She shook them off, twisted her hair into a knot. An itchy restlessness remained, crawling under her skin. It was almost as if she were girding for battle. That’s what the feeling reminded her of, only in this instance, the stakes weren’t her death or Will’s, but their possible future.
It sounded so permanent when she thought of it in that manner.
Work. That would distract her from these useless ruminations. Focusing on another task, an important one, would give her the distance she needed to cultivate a clear, objective view of the situation with Will. It was Saturday, true, and he expected her at The Omega later that evening, but until then, she needed to burn off the restless energy plaguing her.
A workout first, then work, and later, another dance.
Schedule settled, she slipped on workout clothes, left her coffee in the kitchen, and threw herself into a rigorous routine usually reserved for preparation for competitions or war.
Three hours later, reheated coffee in hand, Sigrid settled behind her desk in her office on the IECS campus, her mind much clearer. Someone had left a stack of DNA test results in her inbox, each one neatly filed in a color-coded manila folder. She selected the top folder, opened it, and began studying the enclosed reports.
As she’d expected, work absorbed every ounce of her attention, and she lost herself in the possibilities arrayed before her. Which Daughters lines were true, which had been altered over time by lost stories or records and the insertion of speculation. Much of that could only be sorted by comparing the records that had survived against the well-documented lineages of other Daughters. Mitochondrial DNA alone could never answer the question as to which Sister a Daughter could claim descent from, or what that Daughter’s true heritage was, as the distance in time between ancestor and descendant was too short. Mutations occurred only rarely, on a scale estimated at twice the length of time between the modern era and the time in which the Sisters lived. Only a chance mutation in Abragni’s line sorted her descendants from descendants of the other six Sisters, and it, if Sigrid’s hypothesis was correct, had originated in the rumored youngest of the Seven herself.
More testing would confirm that, but only if the eldest of the living elders submitted to the tests.
Genealogical records would aid in the construction or reconstruction of those lineages as well. Sigrid etched a note into her calendar to contact Robert Upton the following Monday, and nearly cursed as a memory popped into her head, of Will telling her of his volunteer work with the Blade’s husband.
A knock on her door interrupted the remembrance. Sigrid looked up and found George hovering in her doorway, file folder in hand.
“Hey,” he said, and cleared his throat. “That blood you found in Director Upton’s house. The one you wanted tested?”
Sigrid stood and eased around the side of her desk. “Do we have results?”
“Yeah, uh. Here.” He handed her the file and stuffed clenched fists into too loose trousers, then launched into a rapid-fire explanation. “I let somebody else run the tests first. One of the new staff members? Just to see what he could do, only a couple of oddities cropped up, so I ran them again. That’s why it took so long to get them back. I’m really sorry about that. I just thought—”
She touched his upper arm briefly, halting the deluge of words. “I trust your judgment, Mr. Howe.” And she did, in genetics above all other matters. There, his judgment could not be questioned. “Walk me through these oddities.”
“Well, first there’s the fact that whoever this blood belongs to is nearly entirely of Near Eastern descent.”
“We have several groups of the People living in that area.”
He shook his head and his eyes gleamed. “No, not like this. Most of those individuals show clear signs of intermarriage. Different ethnicities?”
“But not this one.”
“Nope. It’s like her family originated in the area and never left.”
Sigrid pursed her lips together. “Why is that significant?”
“Because it’s so rare. Don’t you see?”
He shook his head again, jabbed his fingers through overlong bangs, and paced away from her, his steps rapid and light. Abruptly, he whirled and stalked back to her, and his expression was so unlike his normally cowed mode, it startled her.
“Ok, look,” he continued. “We know the Sisters lived about ten thousand years ago, right? And that they originated in the Levant, probably somewhere near where agriculture first arose. Or that’s what I got from the Legend of Beginnings when I read it.”
“It’s probably an accurate portrayal,” Sigrid murmured, though she’d never thought of it quite like that.
“So when the Sisters were cursed, what’s the first thing they did? According to the genetic records and the tales I’ve heard.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Have you been digging around in the Archives?”
He shrugged. “Tom has and, you know. He tells us because we’re all in this together, right? I mean, what use is it to withhold information when sharing could expedite the whole process, help us reach better conclusions faster?”
She considered him for a moment, weighing his words. Rebecca had informed Sigrid of her intentions prior to reading the IECS’s resident male scholars in on the People’s largest secrets, but there had been no mention of the men colluding with one another. Still, it was a wise move on all their parts, though she could wish her young assistant had kept her in the loop as well.
Finally, she nodded. “Go on.”
“Ok, so the first thing they did was scatter, or one of the first things. Not right away, no, but within a couple hundred years. Genetically, record wise, and I’m talking oral tales here, passed down until they could be recorded.”
“Of course.” She’d written down several such tales herself after learning to read and write half a lifetime ago, tales of her own life and those passed down from mother to daughter through generations. “You have a point here, I assume.”
“Getting there. These Sisters or their Daughters bred with local populations wherever they landed, diffusing the genetic ancestry of their children. The Sisters and the oldest Daughters died off, those that would’ve been genetically Near Eastern, or as close as we can determine, anyway.”
A budding excitement plucked at Sigrid. She tamped it down, refusing to jump ahead of him in the face of scientific reality. “Ethnicity derived from genetic testing is uncertain at best. The results can be, and often are, incorrect depending on the methodologies used.”
“Yup,” he said, his young voice emphatic. “That’s why I waited so long to bring this to you. I had to be sure, right? So I studied published papers, searching for anything that would help me figure out how to be exact, and at the same time, I went through every single DNA sample we have on file that’s been tested, and you know what?”
Impatience joined the excitement. She arched a single eyebrow, expecting him to wilt, and marveled when he plowed ahead.
“Of the samples taken from living individuals—” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Er, you know. Not from swords and such.”
“George!” she said. “Get on with it.”
“Right. Sorry.” He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her, every inch the excited scientist. “Of all those samples, only a few were as close to being Near Eastern as this one. Wanna guess who else?”
She snapped her mouth shut over a sigh. “Mr. Howe, please.”
“All right, all ready,” he said, but his grin never faltered. “The Oracle, ok? And, bonus points, she carries that odd mutation in her mitochondrial DNA.”
The significance of his discovery appeared to her almost immediately. She dropped the folder on her desk and leaned against it, doing her best to stifle the emotions racing within her, and when that didn’t work, she stated her conclusion aloud. “They’re old.”
“Oh, yeah. Like, Sisters old, or really close.”
“The Sisters died millennia ago,” she corrected, more out of habit than intentional thought. “But these women could be their Daughters, or could have lived at a time when the Sisters were still young.”
“Not long after the curse was implemented, unless I’m mistaken, and I don’t think I am.” His grin faded, and with it, the ramrod stiff posture he’d assumed during his explanation. “Look, maybe I’m jumping the gun here. Maybe I missed something or—”
She cut him off with a slice of her hand. “Trust your instincts, George, and your work. I do.”
His eyes shot to hers and his mouth slackened. “You do?”
“Of course. If I didn’t, you would never have been allowed to set foot here.”
“Right,” he said, drawing the word out. “Ok, then. Do you want me to dig a little deeper?”
“Can you?”
“Yeah. Archaeogenetics is kind of a hobby of mine.”
She shook her head and nearly laughed. Of course, it was. What other hobby could a prodigy like George have? “We should celebrate.”
“Really? Wow. Um, ok.” He rubbed his nape with one hand and tucked the other in the pocket of his trousers. “We’ve never celebrated anything before. Is this that big a deal?”
“Yes, it is. Think of what we could learn, of all the history these two women can share.”
If the one could be tracked down and the other persuaded to talk, but that was immaterial to the point at hand, and a problem for Rebecca to solve anyway. Sigrid glanced at her watch, and did laugh then. It was nearly five o’clock, a perfect time for an early meal.
“Supper and a drink,” she declared. “On me. Is The Omega fine? I’m supposed to meet Will there later.”
George’s shoulders hunched and his head drooped. “Oh, uh. No, that’s ok. I’ll just go on home.”
“And miss our celebration?” She clucked her tongue gently. “Come now. It’s Saturday night. Several of the younger Daughters will be there. I can introduce you, if you like.”
His pasty complexion paled and, impossibly, his posture sank into a morose slump. “I don’t want another Daughter.”
“Don’t want another…” Sigrid leashed her exasperation and attempted a more gentle tone. This child was not a Son, she reminded herself, and as such, needed to be handled with more finesse than she usually reserved for males of the species. “What do you mean?”
“Andrea,” he said, the single word so miserably spoken, even Sigrid could grasp the emotion behind it.
“Andrea?”
“The Daughter I was dating.”
Sigrid hmmd. She hadn’t realized he was dating someone seriously enough for any sort of attachment to form. “You’re no longer dating?”
One shoulder lifted under the loose fabric of his plaid button down. “Her term of duty was up. She was a guard here, you know? And she got a better offer after her contract was up and…”
When he didn’t continue, Sigrid filled in the missing words. Andrea moved on, breaking George’s heart in the process.
Raw indignation filled Sigrid. The men brought here to supplement the IECS’s staff were under the protection of the women heading the departments in which they worked, or if not them, then under Rebecca’s protection. They were to be treated with dignity and respect, and while matches were encouraged, love or otherwise, the men were subject to many of the same laws and customs as beloved Sons.
Sigrid had no Son of her own, though she’d had several grandsons over the centuries, enough to understand exactly how hard their lives could be when a Daughter spurned them.
“Look at me,” she said, and waited until he obeyed before continuing. “You will come with me to The Omega where we will order a hearty meal and you will relate every detail of your time with this Daughter to me.”
He opened his mouth, likely on a refusal, and she shushed him with a tersely spoken, “No arguments.” It was time she assumed full responsibility for her assistant, as was her duty, and past time she helped him overcome this heartbreak, one way or another.
By the time Will arrived at his parents’ bar at four that afternoon, the sky was overcast and the air held the distinct bite of snow. Inside, men and women alike huddled near the TV hung in one corner of the main room, watching a fast-paced college basketball game. Both pool tables had games going, and a third of the dining tables held small groups chatting over beer and finger food.
Eric was manning the bar again. Will caught his eye and waved, then met the other man at the end of the bar. “How’s school going?”
Eric shrugged broad shoulders under his black company polo. “It’s school. Why?”
“You up for extra hours on a regular basis?”
“I told you, man. I can always use the duckies.”
“Get me your class schedule for this semester and we’ll work something out.”
Eric dropped his chin and stared at Will through thick, black eyelashes. The onyx plugs in his earlobes flashed above the black line tattoo inked into his neck. “Is this about all the people coming in? I mean, we always get a couple of new faces every week, but never this many at once.”
Will pressed his lips into a firm line, hesitating as he measured Eric’s safety against the People’s needs. On the one hand, the mundane mortal was in no real danger as long as he kept his nose clean, and Eric was good at minding his own. On the other hand, if something was coming, maybe it would be better to move him out of harm’s way until the storm blew over and life returned to normal, if it ever did.
If there were someone to replace the bartender, Will wouldn’t hesitate, but there was no one, and with Will’s steadily increasing duties, he couldn’t fill in himself.
Oh, the life of a small business manager.
Finally, Will shook his head. “Yes and no. I have some other things to take care of for a while, but yeah, we’re probably going to have a lot of new arrivals soon. I’d appreciate the help.”
Eric snorted and flipped a bar towel over his shoulder. “Hell, man. You’re the one doing me the favor. Do you know how much my student loans are?”
Will clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Two words, man. Trade school.”
“Yeah, you tell my ma that.”
“I’ve got my own mom to deal with.” And boy, was she going to be interested in what was going on between Will and Sigrid. Speaking of. “You know the tall, leggy blonde who comes in here and bickers with Moira?”
Eric paused in the act of returning to his post. “Yeah, sure.”
“When she gets here, send somebody to come get me.”
A slow smile stretched Eric’s mouth against his honey colored skin. “I’d like me a piece of that.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“Do I look stupid?” Eric shook his head and wandered off to help a customer, and Will slapped through the swinging door leading to the kitchen.
Work absorbed his attention for the next hour and a half, in between the minor emergencies that always cropped up. Casey popped her head into his office and relayed a message from Eric, who’d forgotten to tell Will they were running short on some of the local microbrews. Wayne, the lead line cook, came in fifteen minutes later and reported that a leak had developed in one of the kitchen’s coolers.
Nothing Will could do about either one on a Saturday night. He jotted notes into his calendar and tucked it into his bag. Calls could be made from home on Monday morning when he woke up. No need to come into work unless Casey couldn’t make it in that day, and she was scheduled to. Will had a feeling if he started giving up his one full day off, it’d be a long time before he’d get a another break.
About an hour after Will settled behind his desk, his cellphone beeped. He thumbed into the text message, read Casey’s warning that Sigrid had entered the bar, and checked the time. 5:23. Hunh. They must be unusually busy out front if nobody could come back and get him.
He shuffled paperwork into piles or folders, then trotted through the backrooms into the bar proper. Sure enough, the tables were steadily filling up. People lined the bar, not so many they were jampacked, but enough to have Eric hopping to fill orders.
Casey scuttled through the nearly full tables, empty tray held high. She passed Will on her way into the kitchen and flashed him a saucy grin. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
He grunted, patted her shoulder as she bounced by, and slid behind the bar, automatically filling the spot on the opposite side from Eric. Sigrid was sitting at a table placed against the far wall near the doors. George Howe sat beside her, nodding solemnly as she spoke. Their heads were, unusually enough, bent together. Will snagged a clean mug and held it under a tap of DuckRabbit stout. Work, probably, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sigrid even acknowledge her assistant in public.
Fifteen minutes later, she rose and eased through the crowd, and settled against the bar near Will, waiting patiently for him to finish with another customer. As soon as he was free, she slid her palm across the bar and gifted him with a rare, soft smile.
“Hello, Will,” she said, pitching her voice above the rumble of conversations and an old Stevie Ray Vaughan tune blasting from the speakers. “I must renege on my promise to dance with you tonight. Young George is in need of my counsel.”
Will braced his palms against the edge of the wooden bar and arched an eyebrow. “Everything ok?”
“It seems he has been abandoned by a Daughter.” Her hand curled into a loose fist against the bar. “You and I will dance another time.”
Her voice lilted upward on the last word, forming a hesitant question. Will studied the placid expression on her face, not much different than the one she usually wore, and the proud set of her shoulders under a deep red, fitted sweater. Was she really asking, or was the inflection an accident?
“Sure,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She shook her head, sending the end of her long, pale blonde braid slithering over her shoulder. “I am committed to a shopping trip on the morrow and expect to be out of town all day.”
“Tuesday, then.”
“Not Monday?”
“I’m off.”
“Ah.” Her eyelids fluttered down, hiding her blue, blue eyes. “Perhaps you could join me for supper on Monday night, if your plans allow.”
His heart picked up an extra beat. Will considered her for a moment, even as he warned his wayward heart to behave. “You’re asking me out?”
She laughed, a breathy rush of air more than sound. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy a homecooked meal.”
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“If you like.”
He nodded slowly. Dinner at Sigrid’s house, just the two of them? Anticipation joined the heat stirring in his gut, and his dick, ever ready for an opportunity, stirred to life behind the fly of his khakis. Sweet Mother, would it always be this way with her?
“Sounds good,” he said.
She smiled at him, patient as a hunter tracking game, and finally he took the hint, leaned across the bar, and pressed a soft kiss to her ripe mouth. Her fingers slid across the back of his hand, caressing him in gentle strokes, a reward for his compliance, and the heady taste of her soared through him, filling him with the hard need to draw her close, to take more, and give everything he had in return.
Her hand tightened on his for one brief moment, then she slid away, breaking the kiss, and wove gracefully through the crowd toward the table she shared with George.
Will rocked back on his heels, satisfied to his core. A second date. How in Ki’s name would he make it until then?
An unfamiliar Daughter slipped into the spot Sigrid had vacated, snaring Will’s attention, and he sprang back to work, busying himself as his mind turned over the upcoming date and the varied possibilities it offered.