Pati Nagle

Evennight Books

Cedar Crest, New Mexico

Eternal

Copyright © 2012 by Pati Nagle

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form.

ISBN: 978-1-61138-169-6

Published by Evennight Books, Cedar Crest, New Mexico, an affiliate of Book View Café

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

for my sister, Carol

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Chris Krohn, Patricia Rice, and Deborah J. Ross for editing help, and to my colleagues in Book View Café for being my safety net.

= 1 =

I never should have let them talk me into giving blood.

Len was my best friend, but since she hooked up with Caeran I’d seen a lot less of her, which pissed me off though I tried not to let it show. Fact was, I felt like a third wheel. Now that the semester was over they were heading up north to visit his family—tonight was supposed to be our farewell fiesta after this bloodletting—and I was looking at a boring, lonely summer.

It was almost eight and the donation center was getting ready to close. Still light outside in late May, and the view of the Sandia Mountains from the picture windows was fantastic. All the couches faced those windows, for which I was thankful as I lay squeezing a little foam bar and contributing my pint.

I hated needles, and I didn’t much care for the sight of blood even if it was in neat little plastic bags. I was mad at myself for letting Len wheedle me into this. Ever since she switched to pre-med, she was nuts on this kind of thing.

She and Caeran had already finished donating and were over in the lounge area with the cookies and punch. So sue me, I bleed slow.

The technician came by and jiggled my little bag of blood. “Almost done,” she said cheerily.

I didn’t answer. I was working up to a first class sulk.

The mountains outside were turning pink in the sunset, earning their name, “watermelon.” Not as picturesque as the Sangre de Cristo mountains east of Santa Fe, named for the same reason but rather more graphically. Those Catholics.

My eye was caught by movement just outside in the parking lot. A man, I thought, though androgynous in just the way I like: tall and slender, high cheekbones, long hair. For an instant I thought it was Caeran, but I could hear his voice behind me and he wasn’t dressed like that—the stranger had on a hooded sweatshirt.

“OK, all done!”

I watched the tech remove the needle from my arm and press a patch of gauze over it. She made me hold my arm in the air for a minute, asked me if I felt dizzy, then wound some hot pink vet wrap around my elbow to secure the gauze and released me to the snacks.

I got up carefully, since I hadn’t done this before. I’d heard of people passing out, but I just felt a little lightheaded, and even energized.

Len looked up and smiled as I made a beeline for the drinks. “Feeling OK?”

Ignoring her, I filled a paper cup with lemonade. It was bad, from a powdered mix. I chugged two cups.

“I’m always thirsty too,” Len said. “I wish they’d have something besides all this sugar.”

I glanced at Caeran, who was munching an apple. Probably he’d brought it along. He was Mr. Healthy Eater, claimed he didn’t like sweets. I could have hated him if only he wasn’t so damned gorgeous. And nice. Disgustingly nice.

OK, I was jealous. Len had scored the best-looking guy on campus. I’d had some dates, but none of them came close to Caeran for all-around wonderfulness. I kept telling myself I’d find the right guy eventually, but it was hard not to wish I’d spotted Caeran first. Or rather, that he’d walked up to my station at the library desk instead of Len’s.

“Movie starts in twenty minutes,” Len said. “We’d better go.”

She and Caeran headed for the door. I hung back to look through the cookies, grabbed the last packet of Oreos and shoved a Moon Pie into my pocket, then hurried after them.

The front parking lot had been full when we arrived, so we’d parked in the lot to the north. Now the center’s lot was empty except for one car at the end of the row. The pavement radiated the day’s heat.

I paused to open the Oreos and stuffed one into my mouth. As I looked up, I glimpsed the guy I’d seen through the window standing by the blood red wall that surrounded the center.

His hair was long like Caeran’s, but it was white even though he looked young. Goth, maybe? His clothes were black. Lean bones. I stood ogling him, then he looked at me and his nostrils flared.

I froze. Cold flooded my stomach.

He was dangerous. Not risky, dangerous.

I play poker. I’m used to sizing people up fast, and I trust my gut.

I looked away from him, as if that would make me invisible. Yeah, I know—acting like a frightened animal, but I had to get out of there. I started after Len and Caeran, head down, walking as fast as I could.

The cookie in my mouth was too dry to swallow. I got ready to spit and scream.

I rounded the corner of the building. A lot of the cars were gone from this lot, too. Caeran and Len were opening the doors of her Subaru.

I lost my cool and ran. When I had the car between me and the stranger, I finally had the nerve to look back.

Either he hadn’t followed me, or he was invisible. I became aware that my mouth was full and started chewing.

“You OK, Manda?” Len said over the car.

I shook my head. Chewed madly and swallowed.

“There was a guy—a scary guy. In the parking lot. Looked a little like you,” I said to Caeran, “except his hair was white.”

Caeran and Len exchanged a wide-eyed glance, then Caeran took off running for the front of the building. I hadn’t expected that.

“Get in the car,” Len said.

I got in back, my usual place. Len got in the driver’s side and locked the doors, then turned in her seat and looked back at me.

“Where did you see him?”

“In the parking lot. I saw him out the window earlier, too. What kind of creep hangs around the blood donor center?”

Len frowned instead of answering, then looked out the windshield. “White hair? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Caeran was coming back. Len unlocked the doors and he got in.

“He was gone. He must have seen me.”

Len gave him a worried look. “You can’t tell…?”

“No.”

They stared at each other for a long while. They do that a lot. I had always chalked it up to mushy stuff, but this was not a romantic moment.

Caeran turned to me. “I am sorry, Manda, but I think we ought to cancel the movie.”

“The theater’s across town. He won’t bother us there, right? So, come on, let’s go.”

Caeran looked at Len, who showed me a smile I didn’t believe. “Hey, you know how you keep bugging us to take you up to Guadalupita?” she said. “How about now?”

“Wh-hat?”

“Let’s go tonight! You can come along—Madera won’t mind, will he, Caeran?”

“I will call and ask.”

They’d been planning to leave in the morning. Guadalupita is way the hell north of Albuquerque, a good four hours plus of driving, or so Len liked to complain. She said it was worth it, but even if we left that minute we wouldn’t reach it until midnight at the earliest.

Caeran had his cell phone to his ear. I heard a buzzy sound that was the answering party.

“It’s Caeran. Would you mind if we came up tonight and brought a friend?”

An inquisitive buzz. Caeran answered in another language. Might have been French—it was all smooth and flowy. Or it could have been Italian. What did I know? I suck at languages.

It wasn’t Spanish, though. Spanish I could recognize. Growing up in New Mexico gives you that.

He talked a little more, then hung up and put the phone away. “Madera says that Manda is welcome.”

“Great!” Len’s smile looked pasted on. “Let’s go pack you a bag, girlfriend!”

“Wait a minute—”

“Oh, did you have plans for the weekend?”

I glared at her. Of course I didn’t, other than wallowing in some ice cream after they were gone. Maybe a poker tournament.

She smiled a real smile now. A worried smile.

“Humor me, OK, Man?”

“What are you not telling me? Other than the usual stuff you don’t tell me.”

“I’ll explain on the road. Let’s get out of town before it gets dark.”

She started the car and drove to my dorm. Len used to live in the neighboring dorm, but she and Caeran were now sharing a house in the student ghetto. My loss; Len had been my best buddy on campus. We still hung out, but not as much as before.

The campus streetlights had come on, casting a warm glow on the adobe-colored stucco of the buildings. They roused a memory from months before.

“Hey, Len—you know maybe it was that guy you saw last fall that had you so freaked out. The one that might have been the campus killer? You said he had white hair, right?”

“It was not him,” Caeran said flatly.

“What if it was?”

“That guy is dead,” Len said.

“How do you know?”

“I just know, OK?”

I slumped back in my seat and crossed my arms. I hated it when they kept secrets from me. They did it a lot, actually. Usually I could ignore it, but my blood sugar was whacked and I was in a bad mood.

I picked up the package of Oreos, which I had dropped on the seat beside me. They were a bit crunched up, and decided I’d had enough sugar. I needed protein, like a big burger or something. With fries.

Len parked behind my dorm, and Caeran announced he wanted to stretch his legs before the drive. The words sounded casual but the way he looked around when he got out of the car was anything but. Not until he gave the nod did Len open her door.

Caeran walked us to the dorm and waited outside while Len came up to my room with me. She sat on my bed and watched me rifle my bureau for clothes to shove into my gym bag.

“Do I need anything dressy?”

“In Guadalupita?” She guffawed. “No. Bring a sweater, it gets cold up there. And bring your cell phone charger.”

Odd recommendation, since ninety percent of the calls and texts I got came from her, but I tossed the charger in my bag and went to fetch my toothbrush and stuff from the bathroom I shared with my neighbor. I considered makeup, but skipped it since Len had said there was no need to be dressy. I usually only wore it on days when I worked at the library.

I came back and dumped my grooming gear into the bag. Added the book I was currently reading. Looked around trying to decide if I needed anything else.

I should have been excited. I’d wanted to visit Guadalupita ever since Len told me how beautiful it was. And I was curious to meet Madera, who was Len’s mentor outside of college. He was a curandero, and I suspected he was the one who had talked her into going into pre-med, since she’d had zero interest in medicine before she’d gone with Caeran to visit him.

But the episode with the guy at the blood center threw a shadow over things. Len wasn’t telling me everything, and that bugged me. I zipped up my bag and looked at her.

“How do you know the guy from last fall is dead?”

She stared at the floor. “I was there, OK?”

I gaped. “You were there? What happened?”

“I didn’t see. I only saw him before, and heard about it after.”

I frowned. “And?”

“And that’s really all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

Hiding my annoyance, I grabbed my favorite sweater and draped it over my shoulder. “I need to hit an ATM.”

“OK,” Len said.

“And a McQuack’s or something. Some place with fries.”

“Blake’s is better.”

“Deal.”

We went downstairs and found Caeran waiting for us in the lobby. He gave me a brief smile, and Len a long glance, then took my bag as we headed out to the car.

“We need to make a couple of stops,” Len said.

Caeran nodded as he stashed my gym bag in the trunk. The first stop was their house, to get their bags. I went in with them, just because I loved their house. It was full of plants and beautiful art and stained glass and crystals in the windows. Len said the art was Caeran’s. The plants must be too, because she’d never been a plant person before.

We grabbed the bags, got some cash from an ATM and then got on the freeway, stopping at a Blake’s on the way out of town. I splurged on a deluxe green chile cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate malt. Len got a grilled cheese sandwich. Caeran drove while we ate.

By then the sky had darkened to the glowing blue of twilight. Venus was hanging bright in the western sky.

“So, Len.” I leaned between the front seats, offering my fries. “You were going to explain why the change in plans?”

“The guy you saw is dangerous,” she said, taking a fry.

Tell me about it.

“Like the guy from last fall?” I said, hoping to pry more details from her. “He was the campus killer, wasn’t he?”

The killer hadn’t been caught, but the killings had stopped. Right after Len had gone up to Guadalupita with Caeran, come to think of it.

Len glanced at Caeran. “Yes.”

“And the guy I saw is like him?”

“Yes,” Caeran said. “He is very dangerous. It was unfortunate that he saw you.”

“You think he might come after me? Is that why we’re leaving town? That’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? I mean he doesn’t know who I am.”

“He is a tracker,” Caeran said. “He could find you if he wanted to.”

“Well, I guess he won’t unless he’s a bloodhound.”

Caeran shifted in his seat but didn’t say anything. I stuffed a couple of fries in my face, remembering the way the guy had looked at me. Yeah, I was glad to be driving away from him.

“What are these guys, some kind of cult? Or a gang?”

No answer.

Len put on some music—guitar, gentle and soothing. “So have you decided what to do this summer?”

OK, they didn’t want to talk about the creepy guy. Fine.

“Not sure. Might play in some poker tournaments. Or take on more hours at the library. Benny and Vic are both leaving, you know. Summer’s pretty quiet and Dave doesn’t want to hire a new person.”

“You’re going to keep your dorm room?”

“Cheaper than an apartment.”

We chatted about summer and school. Len was looking into possible jobs in the medical lab. If she did that, she’d quit the library and I’d see even less of her.

We made a pit stop in Santa Fe, then went east through the pass, then north to Las Vegas, which is a sleepy college town, nothing like its more famous counterpart in Nevada. Took another break there at a convenience store. I bought ice cream just because, then we headed on north toward Mora.

Northern New Mexico is beautiful, but it was dark so I couldn’t admire the landscape. I had to content myself with staring out the window at the stars while I ate my toffee ice cream bar. Albuquerque has too much light pollution; you can only see a few stars in the city. Here the Milky Way poured across the sky in all its glory.

Somewhere along the way I fell asleep. I was muzzily aware of the car’s engine shutting off, then a car door opening and closing woke me up.

I sat up, groggy. It took me a minute to remember why I was in Len’s car. I heard the trunk open and then Len turned to look at me.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

“Mrph.”

“We’re here.”

Len got out and went back to the trunk. I rubbed my face, then undid my seat belt and got out.

We were parked in front of a sprawling adobe house that looked a million years old. All across the front was a shaded wooden portal. A light glowed by the big double doors, casting a broad pool of golden light on the wood. There was no other building in sight, just a dirt driveway and the big, open field surrounding the house.

Caeran handed me my gym bag and led the way to the door. He pulled a cord that set bells jingling somewhere back in the house.

Madera must have been waiting up for us. He came to the door right away and opened it wide into an entryway full of plants. He looked a lot like Caeran—tall and slim, chiseled face—except his hair was black instead of red-brown. He wore it loose over a caftan, and it hung to his waist. He smiled when Len introduced me.

“Welcome, Amanda,” he said in a deep, quiet voice. His gazed fixed on my pink vet wrap, then he looked at Len, whose vet wrap was purple. “What is this?”

“Oh—we gave blood today.” Len started picking at her vet wrap. “We could probably take these off now.”

“Wait a moment,” Madera said, frowning. “Come in here.”

He led us through a doorway to the right and into a big, long great room with a dining table at the far end. Near the table was another door. Madera went through, leaving us alone.

I looked at Len, but before I could make a smart remark, Madera was back with a little bottle of brown glass. “This will help you heal more quickly.”

We undid our wrappings and Madera rubbed a little oil on each of our punctures. It had a faintly green smell, and tingled a little while he rubbed it in. He insisted on doing Caeran’s arm, too, then he corked the bottle.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You are welcome. No doubt you are also tired after your journey. I have rooms ready for you.”

He led us through the far door, which opened onto an interior courtyard. This really was an old-style hacienda, built for defense against marauding Indians or covetous neighbors. Surrounding an inner courtyard was a covered portal enclosed in glass that was obviously a modern addition. A door in each glass wall stood open to the night, which was getting chilly. Len was right, it was cold up here even in early summer. I wished I’d put on my sweater.

As Madera led us along the portal I admired the courtyard through the glass. Plazuela, my brain supplied at random. Thank you, New Mexico history class.

The plazuela was paved in flagstone and had patio furniture and bushes scattered around. I smelled lilacs and heard the trickle of water. I spotted the fountain at the west side just before Madera opened a door on the right and went in. A moment later the room filled with soft light, and he came back to the door, gesturing welcome.

“This room is for you, Amanda. The bathroom is next door.”

Cozy. Bed, nightstand, dresser, all of rustic pine carved in a vaguely Spanish style. A decanter and water glass stood on the dresser. The warm light was coming from from a lamp on the nightstand. There was even a kiva fireplace.

“It’s beautiful. Thanks so much.”

I was too tired to be more eloquent. Madera said goodnight and led Len and Caeran away along the portal. I watched them turn the corner and then closed the door.

So tired. And confused about the creepy guy. Sure, I never wanted to see him again. The solution was simple: stay away from the blood donor center. No problem.

Except my gut had told me in no uncertain terms to flee. And Caeran had said he was a tracker.

I wondered how Caeran knew, but there was no use worrying about it. We were far from Albuquerque now. Might as well enjoy the weekend.

I plugged in my cell phone, then dug out my toothbrush and headed for the bathroom. As I came out of my door I thought I saw movement to my left, but by the time I looked there was nothing. Frowning, I walked all the way to the door into the living room at end of the passage.

I stood listening but all I heard was the fountain and a cricket chirping somewhere. Finally I gave up, went back and found the bathroom, brushed teeth, washed face, then returned to my room to hit the sack.

There was an old-fashioned hook latch on the door. It wouldn’t hold up to a good kick, but I latched it anyway, and felt better.

I got in bed and lay listening to the nothing. It’s really quiet in the country—you don’t realize how noisy the city is until you get away from all the traffic and airport rumble. The silence of rural areas bothers some city people, but I love it. Whether it was the peacefulness or the fact that I’d given blood, I fell asleep immediately.

I woke up thinking I was at Grandma’s, because I smelled fresh baked bread. Sat up, figured out where I was, and hopped into my clothes. The little poke on my arm was almost completely gone—I had to look hard to see it, and it was just slightly tender. I dragged a brush through my hair and went out to find the bread.

When I opened my door, I gasped. The plazuela was filled with color: lilacs, both purple and white, coppery and yellow wild roses, iris in a rainbow of colors. I walked out through the nearest door in the glass wall and stood taking it all in. Floral fragrances blended with the baking smells. I wanted to eat all of it.

Promising myself I’d spend some time out here reading, I followed my nose across the plazuela and into the portal on the far side. I heard voices from down the passage. Continuing that direction, I found an open door into the kitchen.

Four men were sitting at a table by a window that overlooked the plazuela. They were all heavy on the Caeran DNA—same hair color, same green eyes. They were talking in the fluid language I’d heard Caeran use on the phone, but when I came in they clammed up and sat staring at me.

My heart did a little joyful skip. Four Caeran clones! Maybe one of them was unattached. I gave them a hesitant smile.

Madera was standing by the stove. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Good morning, Amanda. Please come in.”

He gestured toward a Mexican tile counter where there was half a loaf of bread, butter and jam, a bowl of sliced strawberries, and a teapot under a cozy. I went straight for the bread, which was still warm. It steamed a little when I whacked off a big slice, and the butter melted into it. I took a bite and my mouth exploded in bliss.

The conversation started up again behind me, in quieter tones. Self-conscious, I stayed by the counter and poured myself a cup of tea.

Madera was watching me. I swallowed the last of my bread. “This is wonderful. Thank you.” I glanced toward the table and added in a whisper, “I didn’t know you had other guests.”

“These are my neighbors. Would you like to meet them?”

Boy, howdy—except that I felt strangely shy. I took another swallow of tea and nodded.

Madera went over to the table and I followed a step behind him. The guys there stopped talking and looked up at us.

“I would like to introduce Amanda,” Madera said. “She is my guest for a while. Amanda, these are Faranin, Lomen, Bironan, and Nathrin.”

Wow, wild names. I would never remember them all.

I smiled. “Hi.”

Three of them just gave me serious nods. The fourth one, Nathrin, actually smiled.

“I am glad to meet you. You are a friend of Lenore?”

“Um, yeah.”

“She is a good soul.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded. He was nice, I decided. His face was a little longer than Caeran’s, but in the dark I couldn’t have told them apart.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Caeran walked in. He had Len’s car keys in his hand.

“Good morning, Manda. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a dead thing.”

He looked confused, then smiled and turned to his four doppelgangers. “Are you ready?”

They got up from the table and collected backpacks from a banco by the fireplace at the far end of the room. I looked at Caeran.

“Going somewhere?”

“My cousins need a ride to Albuquerque. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Five guys squished into Len’s car for that long a drive? Must be something important.

Caeran exchanged a few words of flowy-talk with Madera, then led the other four away. I watched, kind of disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to talk with them more.

I looked toward the stove. Madera was watching me as he stirred a pot.

“Thanks for the welcome,” I said. “It’s really nice of you, especially since you weren’t expecting me.”

“As you can see, I have plenty of room.”

“Well, if I can help with anything—“

“Is there any tea left? Hi, Manda,” said Len as she came in carrying a mug. She took the cozy off the teapot and lifted the lid. “I’m going to kill it. Should we make more?”

“Yes, please,” Madera said. “Amanda, would you fill this kettle?”

“Sure.”

While I was at the sink, Madera opened a pottery jar and scooped out some black leaves, putting them into a little strainer thingie. I was impressed—I’d only ever used teabags. He set the strainer aside, took the kettle from me and put it on the stove, then washed out the teapot and put the strainer into it.

I felt like I was in the way, so I cut another slice of bread and slathered it with butter, put some berries in a bowl as a gesture toward healthy eating, and went over to the table where Caeran’s cousins had been sitting. Len joined me, bringing both our mugs.

“Thanks. Caeran has a big family, eh?”

Len sipped her tea. “Yes and no.”

She didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t going to rise to the bait and ask. “Nice of him to drive them to Albuquerque. Hope he brings your car back with a full tank.”

“He will.”

Of course he would. He was Mr. Wonderful.

I stifled a sigh and watched Madera, who was back at the stove, looking graceful as he stirred his pot. His hair was braided today. His profile made me think of the beautiful people in Maxfield Parrish paintings. I had expected Len’s mentor to be older.

He didn’t really look Spanish—not like most of the locals. He was too tall, too pale. Aristocratic, with that aquiline nose. Maybe Old World Spanish looked like that, but most New Mexican Hispanics had a lot of New World blood mixed in.

Well, he had some Caeran blood, or something close to it. Not as striking a match as the cousins, but clearly the same family.

My thoughts drifted off to my own family back in Portales. My parents were very straight, very conservative, and they’d raised me and my brother strictly. He’d been a super-jock in school and got drafted into a minor league baseball team before graduation. I’d rebelled in high school and escaped to UNM and Albuquerque as soon as possible.

Sometimes I missed home, but whenever I went back to visit I remembered why I’d left. I loved my parents—especially at a distance.

I finished my berries and decided I’d better get away from the bread, so I filled my mug with milk and headed for the plazuela. The morning was pleasantly cool. In Albuquerque things were already summer-hot.

I sat in a chair in the shade and watched a swarm of birds playing in the fountain. The smell of lilacs made me relax. Yeah, I could get used to this.

A wild thought of giving up my dorm room and spending the summer here occurred to me, but I squashed it. For one thing, I had a job. For another, it would be a serious imposition, unless I could make it up to Madera somehow. No, I should forget that.

I had the weekend, since I assumed Len and Caeran would drive me home on Sunday. I told myself I was damn lucky for that.

I heard the kettle whistle in the kitchen and was glad, because it was almost too chilly outside. I finished my milk, then headed for my room to get my book. On the way I decided to make a pit stop at the bathroom. Just as I reached the door it was opened by yet another Caeran clone.

“Oh, sorry!”

I stepped back, taking him in. His hair was a little darker than Caeran’s and his eyes were a softer green. I smiled.

“You must be another guest of Madera’s. Or a neighbor?”

“Guest,” he said in a quiet voice. His eyes were troubled and he looked tired. I didn’t remember ever seeing Caeran look tired.

“I’m Amanda Richards. I’m here with Len and Caeran.”

“Len is here?”

I nodded. “She’s in the kitchen, or she was.”

He glanced toward the kitchen and nodded absently. Didn’t offer his name.

Awkward moment of the day number one. He was between me and the bathroom, I was between him and the door to the plazuela. His gaze had fixed on something—or maybe nothing—out in the garden.

I cleared my throat. “Well, nice meeting you.”

He looked at me in faint surprise. I answered with a smile and glanced toward the bathroom. He seemed to figure it out finally and took a step backward, then turned and headed away down the portal. He went into the last door before the living room.

I had to find a better way of talking to these guys. I mean, I had now met, what, five gorgeous men? And not managed to make one of them take an interest in me.

Well, we’d see about that. I just hadn’t gotten a read on them, that was all. They were different—maybe foreign. Caeran had mentioned Europe a couple of times, come to think of it.

I smiled to myself. I liked a challenge. Len had her dream guy, why couldn’t I have one too?

= 2 =

I got my book and went back outside. My mug was now full of steaming tea. I glanced up toward the kitchen with a smile and said, “Thanks,” as if anyone could hear me. Maybe Madera could see me through the window.

He was a great host. I’d have to write him a thank you note after I went home.

I settled back into my chair in the garden, wondering idly if I should try for Madera. Or maybe the friendly one. The other three I’d met that morning were standoffish, and the guy I’d just bumped into was preoccupied.

Len came out and joined me; she’d found a book somewhere. We both sat there reading until the shade receded, then we moved into the portal where there were more chairs, and sat reading until Madera called us into the kitchen for lunch.

He’d made a wonderful soup with chicken and potatoes and green chile. More of the fresh bread on the side, and iced tea. We sat at the table by the window and Len drove the conversation, telling me things about Madera that I could ask questions about.

“Know what? Madera made all the carved furniture in the house himself.”

He shot a glance at Len. “Not all. Some pieces are from clients.”

“Healing clients?” I said. “You take payment in trade?”

“That is all that many of them can afford.”

I nodded. Rural parts of New Mexico were painfully poor. Portales had ENMU, so it had a stable source of employment, but it was also huge compared to Guadalupita.

Or so I believed. I hadn’t actually seen Guadalupita on the way in, but Len always said it was nothing but a bar and a post office and a couple of houses, and that if it weren’t for Caeran’s cousins, Madera would be lonely.

That reminded me of the mystery clone I had met. I checked the table—no fourth place setting.

“Is your other guest not coming to lunch?”

Len looked up. “Other guest?”

“Savhoran,” said Madera. He looked at me. “I gather you’ve met him.”

“Briefly. He didn’t actually tell me his name.”

“I took him some soup earlier. He is a patient as well as a guest, and spends most of his time in his room.”

“Still?” Len asked softly.

Madera nodded, and looked down at his bowl. I wanted to ask what was wrong with Savhoran, but I chickened out.

“This soup is great,” I said instead.

“Thank you.”

We talked about unimportant things for the rest of the meal. I learned a lot about Madera’s numerous talents, and about how he lived out here in the country. He grew some of his own food, and most of the rest came in trade for healing. He had an extensive herb garden—I made admiring noises and was promised a tour—an orchard, a vineyard, and chickens and goats. I wondered how much land he owned, but that was another nosy question I kept to myself. Despite his friendliness, he came across as a very private person.

After lunch I went back to reading on the portal while Madera took Len off to consult on something or other. He was her mentor; that’s what she was here for. Interesting how she was blending modern medicine with folk medicine. I wondered what her profs thought of it.

The sun shifted to the west, so I moved to the north side of the portal, near my room. There were chairs here too—there were chairs scattered all the way around the portal. Madera could have thrown a pretty big party if he’d wanted.

I kept going back to the kitchen for more iced tea until I finished off the pitcher. Finished my book late in the afternoon. Still no sign of Len. I put my feet up on a hassock and closed my eyes.

I must have dozed off, because when I heard a door closing I looked up and it was late. The sun had set, and the plazuela glowed with soft evening light. I got up and stretched, then noticed fantastic smells on the air. I couldn’t identify them other than that it was dinner and it made my mouth water.

I picked up my empty glass to take back to the kitchen, then noticed I wasn’t alone. Sav—Sav—that Sav guy was standing near the corner, looking out at the garden.

He noticed me. I smiled and gave a little wave.

“Hi.”

Wasn’t sure what else to say. Awkward to ask if he was feeling better.

Come on, Man. Try harder.

I walked over to him. “You’re one of Caeran’s cousins, right?”

He nodded.

“Have you lived in New Mexico long?”

“No.”

Right. OK, if he wasn’t going to help, I wouldn’t pester him.

I almost left right then, but I had this feeling he must be lonely. For sure he was sad. I decided to stay a little longer.

He was looking at the garden again. The birds were gone now, and the fountain’s trickle was peaceful.

“Beautiful place,” I said.

“Yes.”

He nodded, then looked straight at me for the first time. My breath caught in my throat—just like it had when the creep at the blood center had looked at me—but this was a good feeling. He saw me.

“I am Savhoran.”

I smiled. “Amanda. Nice to meet you.”

His manner was kind of formal, but I figured it was just shyness. With almost painful politeness, he asked, “Have you been in New Mexico long?”

“Born and raised. I’m from Portales.”

He nodded. I would have bet money he had no clue where Portales was.

“It’s south and east,” I added. “Out on the plains. Windy and hot. This is much nicer—Madera’s really created an oasis here.”

Savhoran smiled, but still looked sad. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, maybe try to comfort him, but I didn’t. Too nosy on such short acquaintance, and it was obviously some health problem since he was here as a patient.

“Well, dinner smells great,” I said. “Are you headed for the kitchen?”

He hesitated. I didn’t give him a chance to say “no.”

“Come on.”

I nodded toward the plazuela, and stuck my hand out without thinking. He didn’t take it, but he did come with me.

The flagstones were warm with the heat of the day. Savhoran stopped in the middle of the plazuela, looking at the flowers and the fountain as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful. I watched him cup a spray of lilacs in his hand and smell it. The creases in his forehead relaxed.

We went to the kitchen and found Len and Madera busy with supper. The room was lit with the soft glow of oil lamps on the counters and in a chandelier. Candles were burning in a pottery wrath on the table, which was set for three.

Madera looked up from carving a roasted chicken and smiled with delight. “Good evening,” was all he said.

Len glanced at Savhoran as she finished putting rice into a serving bowl. “Hi, there, stranger!”

He acknowledged the tease with a half smile. Len told us to sit down, we were in the way, then she quietly set a fourth place.

I made a halfhearted offer to help, but everything was almost ready. Len brought bowls of rice and spinach to the table, and Madera brought over a platter of sliced chicken. That was what smelled so wonderful.

“Boy, Caeran will be sorry he missed this,” I said. “I thought he’d be back by now.”

Len and Madera traded a glance.

“He called,” Len said. “He’s got some things he wants to do in town, so he’s staying over.”

Trouble in paradise? She didn’t look distressed, but she didn’t look jolly either. It was none of my business, so I kept quiet.

There was wine—red, in an unlabeled bottle. Madera poured and everyone helped themselves to the food. Savhoran took tiny portions, but I didn’t. I was starving even though I’d hardly moved all afternoon.

“I hope you enjoyed the day,” Madera said to me.

I nodded and took a sip of wine. “It was nice—this is good!—nice to just relax.”

“If you need more to read, I have a small library. Not many current titles, I fear, but you are welcome to look at them.”

“Thanks.”

I took a bite of the chicken and almost moaned aloud. It was fall-apart tender, with pepper and garlic and a tang of lemon. Heavenly.

Len and Madera chatted about his garden while we ate. He was just now putting out tomatoes and cucumbers, because it froze late into May this far north. I gathered that he had a greenhouse somewhere.

I admired people who grew their own food. I’d tried, but the climate in Portales is pretty unforgiving and only determined gardeners can get stuff to grow there.

“I’d love to help if there’s anything I can do,” I said. “I’m not much of a gardener, but I can pull weeds.”

“I will take you up on that tomorrow.”

“Great!”

I meant it. If I made myself useful, maybe I’d get invited back.

Madera was watching Savhoran push rice around his plate. He’d eaten some of the spinach, but the tiny slice of chicken was untouched. He sensed Madera’s gaze and looked up, and said something in that flowy language.

“It’s all right,” Madera said softly. “I can heat up some broth if you like.”

Savhoran shook his head and stared unhappily at his food.

It sucks being sick, and it’s sad to watch a beautiful creature suffer. I felt sorry for him and wished there was something I could do. Best thing I could think of was not to make an issue of it, so I pretended it wasn’t important and finished my own supper.

Savhoran left as soon as we were done. I stayed to help with the dishes, figuring he probably wasn’t in the mood for company. Madera didn’t have a dishwasher, so Len washed and I dried while our host put away the leftovers.

“I still think you should get a hot tub,” Len said over her shoulder.

“It would use too much electricity,” said Madera.

“Not if you got one of those soft ones. They’re really efficient.”

“I much prefer hot springs.”

“Yeah, but it’s a mile hike to the closest one! And no bathroom, no shower—”

“Conveniences, but not necessary. Shall we go into the living room?”

Len handed me the last plate to dry. “You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Will you play the guitar?”

She sighed and took the towel from me, drying her hands. “OK, you win.”

Madera’s gaze shifted to me. “Unless you don’t like music.”

“Oh, I love it. I just wish I had talent like Len.”

“We each have our own gifts.”

He led the way into the living room, lit some oil lamps in nichos in the wall, then laid a fire in the kiva fireplace in one corner of the room. Len fetched a guitar case from behind a bookcase, took out the guitar and started tuning it. I sat on a banco and watched Madera build the fire.

He didn’t use any paper, just some smaller sticks as kindling. Must be a traditionalist on fire-building, like he was on other things. He did have electricity and gas or propane for the stove, but he didn’t have a lot of appliances, and he seemed to prefer firelight to electrical.

Len started to strum the guitar and I looked at her, trying to recognize the music. A flare of light from the fireplace made me glance back. Whatever Madera had used, it worked a treat. The fire settled into a cheerful crackle.

Len played some folk songs and I chimed in on the chorus of the ones I knew. My voice isn’t polished like hers, but I can carry a tune. I even filled in a harmony here and there.

She mixed in some more current songs and some old 70’s stuff—James Taylor and some of the Beatles’ mellower songs. Gentle music. Relaxing and peaceful.

She was just winding up “You’ve Got A Friend” when I glanced toward the dining table and saw Savhoran standing there. He must have come in by the far door. I smiled and gestured for him to join us. He hesitated, then came over and sat on the banco on the other side of the fireplace.

Len sang a couple more songs, then handed the guitar to Madera. He played some flamenco-sounding music, then to my surprise began to sing in Spanish.

His voice was even more rich singing than speaking. I watched him, entranced, trying to catch the meaning of the words, though I only recognized a few. The song had a lamenting tone, and I found myself glancing at Savhoran.

He was leaning against the fireplace, eyes closed. I couldn’t help staring at him. So beautiful, so sad. How could I make him feel better?

He opened his eyes. For a second I felt like he’d heard my thoughts, but he didn’t look at me. He stared at the floor, then looked up at Madera, who gave the guitar back to Len and went to join Savhoran on the banco.

They talked too quietly for me to hear, maybe in their language. Len played some soft chords, then launched into a Norah Jones song I didn’t know the words to. I listened, feeling disappointed and not knowing why.

Madera said something to which Savhoran nodded, then got up and left the room. Len watched Madera go with a raised eyebrow, but kept singing. Savhoran listened to her for a while, then his gaze drifted to me.

Oh, man. When he looked at me I felt like a spotlighted deer—in a good way, if that makes any sense. I wanted to do whatever it would take to make him smile.

He smiled.

Weird. Could he really tell what I was thinking?

Len finished the song, and because I felt embarrassed I applauded. Savhoran did, too.

“Your music is beautiful,” he said.

“Oh, thanks,” Len said, flashing a self-conscious smile. “Not my music, actually. I mean I didn’t write it.”

“You play it beautifully.”

“Thanks.” She looked at me. “What next? I’m out of ideas.”

I said the first thing I could think of. “’Across the Sea.’”

She’d learned to play it when Lord of the Rings came out. When we’d met we discovered we both loved the movies, and we sang that song obsessively for about six months our first year at school. It was burned into my brain.

Savhoran listened, watching me as much as he watched Len. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice, but I had goosebumps by the end of the song.

Len went on to play her other favorites from the movies; “May It Be” and a couple of the songs in elvish, which I’d never bothered to learn. Savhoran listened with an amused expression, and applauded politely.

Madera came back with a tray of tea, cups, and a bowl of tiny strawberries. I was yearning for coffee, but this would have to do. Madera must not be a coffee person. I hadn’t seen a coffeemaker in the kitchen.

I didn’t need coffee this late anyway, I told myself, and thanked Madera for the cup he handed me. The tea was light and flowery. I took a couple of the berries and marveled at their sweetness.

Savhoran ate one strawberry, spent a lot of time chewing it, and washed it down with the rest of his tea. Madera refilled his cup without commenting. I held my cup out too, and ate some more of the berries, pretending I hadn’t noticed Savhoran’s trouble.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked Madera.

“Oh, decades.”

He didn’t look old enough for that, but I let it pass. “But you’re not from here, right?”

He set down the teapot. “Not originally.”

I turned my cup in my hands, waiting for it to cool a little. “Spain?”

“I’ve lived in a number of countries.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“The truth is, this has been my home long enough that I don’t think about the other places.”

Fair enough. I sipped my tea.

It was awkward without the music. I wanted to ask all kinds of questions that were probably rude. I looked at Savhoran, saw him watching me, and gave a nervous smile. He smiled back.

Len’s cell phone went off. She stood up, digging it out of her pocket, and glanced at the display.

“It’s Caeran. Excuse me.”

She went out into the entryway. I could hear her voice, muffled, asking questions. Left alone with two gorgeous men, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Dammit.

Madera picked up the guitar and strummed it. I relaxed a little; music was an excuse for not talking. I sipped my tea and tried to think of something intelligent to say the next time there was a lull.

Len came back, looking unhappy. Madera stopped playing and turned expectantly to her. She met his gaze and shook her head.

“It’s taking longer than he thought.”

I frowned. Caeran had planned to be here, not in Albuquerque. This was more than just a trip to the warehouse store, I suspected. Was it the other four guys causing the delay?

Now there was something I could talk about. Grasping at straws, I tried to remember any of the Caeran-clones’ names. Nathan? Nathrin!

I looked at Madera. “So those other guys—Nathrin and them—you said they’re your neighbors?”

He nodded. “They are building a house nearby.”

That only led to more questions I shouldn’t ask—were they building on Madera’s land? What had they needed so much that they could only get it in Albuquerque, and why it had taken all four of them to go after it?

“Have you known them long?”

“Not long at all. I met them last fall.”

I looked at Len. Last fall was when Caeran had first brought her up here. Had he not known Madera, then? But they all looked so alike…

I was thinking too hard. I stood up, leaving my mug on the table.

“Think I need some air. Please excuse me.”

I went out through the entryway and a glass door into the portal around the plazuela. It was chilly but I needed to get away and sort out my thoughts.

Savhoran was ill and I shouldn’t ask nosy questions about it. I found him attractive. Neither of those things should destroy my world.

Len had secrets, but that was nothing new. Madera was in on them. I was a little jealous of that, but I could live with it.

What was Caeran up to?

It really wasn’t any of my business. None of it was. Why did that upset me?

I walked out into the plazuela and looked up at the stars. The smell of lilacs surrounded me. The fountain murmured peacefully.

Truth was, I was an outsider. I didn’t belong here. Len had a reason to be here, but I was just excess baggage. Madera was being very nice—he was the greatest host—but he probably secretly wished I was back in Albuquerque.

I sat in a lounge chair and stared up at the sky. The moon was up, really bright out here in the country. It washed out a lot of the stars. I picked out the big dipper and was proud of myself.

I heard a door close. Maybe the others had decided to turn in. I stayed where I was.

I didn’t know what I wanted, that was the problem. In the grander scheme of things I had no direction.

I’d taken the job at the university library because Len worked there. She was the one who was really into books and history. I liked books, but I liked movies more. Too bad you couldn’t get paid to watch movies. Or play poker—I liked that a lot, but it kind of sucked for career potential. I’d kept track of my winnings and losses since I came to Albuquerque, and I was just slightly short of breaking even.

“Hello.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Looked up at Savhoran standing next to my chair.

“God, you scared me! Make some noise next time!”

“I am sorry—should I go?”

“No! No, it’s fine. I was just startled, that’s all.”

He pulled a chair closer to mine and sat in it. His face was troubled, but still beautiful.

“Have the others gone to bed?” I asked.

Savhoran shook his head. “They are discussing a new treatment for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry you’re not well.”

He looked up at me. “Thank you.”

“Wish I could help.”

“You do help. You do not view me as … damaged.”

“Well, you don’t look damaged.”

He laced his fingers between his knees and frowned at them. “My kindred believe that I am.”

“What do they know?”

He laughed, but the smile faded right away. “I should have healed by now.”

This was really bothering him. I sat up and turned toward him. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it, but in case he did I was listening.

He lifted his head and met my gaze. “I was injured last fall. I was attacked. The wound has healed, mostly, but … there is some chance of infection.”

Oh, man. Poor guy.

“Do not worry. There is no danger to—I mean, it is not something you can catch from me.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

He smiled, but still looked sad. I reached out and touched his hand, something I never would have done if I’d stopped to think about it. He froze, then his hand turned to clasp mine.

My heart started pounding. His eyes locked onto mine; I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to.

“You are the only one who cares for me.”

“That’s not true…”

“Len and Madóran are friends. That is different.”

I blinked, confused. He took my other hand in his.

“My kin are uncomfortable with my infirmity. I do not blame them, but I … used to be welcome among them, and now I am not.”

“That’s pretty unfair.”

“They have good reason. I do not blame them.”

“You can’t help being sick.”

He smiled softly. “No. Nor can I help being lonely. I am used to being surrounded by family. Now I have no one.”

I looked down, feeling the blush crawl up my neck before I even asked. “You don’t have a sweetheart?”

“She has left. She could not bear to watch … my illness.”

I swallowed. “Well, maybe when you’re better…”

He shook his head. “She will not return. We said our farewells.”

I tried really hard not to be glad about that.

Savhoran squeezed my hands and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Thank you for not being afraid.”

His hair was tickling my cheek, and he smelled wonderful. “I could never be afraid of you,” I said in a shaky whisper.

He laughed softly, his breath warm on my neck. A shiver of delight went through me. He put his cheek against mine.

Oh, man. Oh, yes.

I pulled my hands free and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back. We sat that way for a long time, just holding each other. It felt wonderful.

I heard a small sound and opened my eyes. Madera was standing in the front doorway, watching us.

“Savhoran,” he said softly.

We separated, and while I blushed so hot I thought I’d perspire, Savhoran glanced at our host, then turned back to me. He squeezed my hands, dropped a kiss on my forehead, and left.

Damn. Damn, damn.

Through the glass walls I saw Madera lead him along the portal to his room. They went in and closed the door. Consultation, or maybe treatment. I wasn’t invited.

Damn, damn, damn.

I sat there reliving the last few minutes for a while, then I got up and went looking for Len. She must have been helping Madera, because she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room or her room. I chickened out on searching the whole place.

Nothing else to do. I went to bed, and did some more reliving and some elaboration on the theme. I was used to fantasizing myself to sleep, but I usually didn’t have this much fresh material to draw on. I didn’t drift off until after the wedding.

I actually woke up early. Lying cozy in bed, I gradually remembered the previous night.

God!

I sat up. Thought about pulling on yesterday’s clothes, but instead did the civilized thing and dressed in fresh everything and brushed my hair. Headed to the bathroom hoping I might run into Savhoran again, but no such luck. With teeth freshly scrubbed, I went to the kitchen which was again wreathed in tantalizing bread-baking smells, and warmth from the oven and the kiva fireplace.

The only one there was Madera. He smiled, offered me tea, and invited me to take over slicing up oranges. Hiding disappointment, I did as he asked while he went to collect some eggs.

Fresh eggs for breakfast. Seriously fresh. This guy was amazing.

Why had I ended up hugging Savhoran instead of Madera? Possibly because Madera had shown zero interest in me. He was friendly, yes, but he didn’t need anything from me.

Savhoran, on the other hand, was lonely. He’d said it himself.

Damaged. He’d said that too. That ought to make me cautious, but I wasn’t feeling cautious.

I stopped slicing and drifted into a daydream about the previous evening. Just imagining the feel of his arms around me gave me goosebumps.

The sound of footsteps out in the portal made me pick up the knife again. My heart was pounding even though I told myself it was probably Madera, or maybe Len.

“Amanda.”

Savhoran’s voice. I closed my eyes and smiled, then turned.

“Morning,” I said, trying to keep it to a grin.

He came and stood beside me while I reached for the last orange. Just having him near made my arms tingle.

“I am sorry I had to leave last night.”

ME TOO!

“There’s always tomorrow,” I said, trying to sound light.

“Or tonight.”

My hand slipped and the knife nicked my finger. “Shit! Oh, I’m sorry. I mean ‘Darn!’”

Savhoran stepped back, eyes wide as he stared at the blood welling on my finger. I bit back another curse.

Way to gross out your potential boyfriend, Man.

There were no paper towels on the counter, and I didn’t want to bleed on one of Madera’s nice napkins, so I brought my finger to my mouth.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Savhoran was staring like I’d cut off my hand. A swallow moved his throat, then his gaze met mine.

And he ran.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

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