S E V E N T E E N

Archie freaked me out a little. Okay, okay. He freaked me out a lot. Some people give off cryptic bullshit just to keep people on edge. They like the power rush of knowing something no one else knows, especially the bit where you know they know something big but won't tell.

Archie Stutz wasn't like that. Somehow I had the feeling he was almost in the same boat as me and, like me, he wasn't sure he wanted details even though whatever was going down was bound to affect him in a big way. That was scary. Anyone could tell the Bearcat was a true-believing advocate of taking the bull by the horns, the very essence of mano-a-mano. Or in this case maybe, mano-a-freako. If Archie was dodging, then there was something out there worth dodging.

Thought about that climbing back into my grungy clothes. Glanced over at him, sprawled out warm and comfy on the bed. Even down and drained, he didn't look exactly fragile, you know? He made the bed frame look like it was made out of matchsticks. I crossed over, sat down beside him and he looked up at me, drifty but smiling.

"You going to rip my throat out now, Firehair?" he asked.

"Maybe next time."

"Don't let them kick you around. Remember what I told you."

I shrugged. It didn't hurt to move anymore.

"You've got power — I can feel it," he insisted. "Don't be scared to use it. Learn how to use it."

"That's it then? Fight like them. Be like them."

Archie gave me a look made up of equal parts exasperation and fatigue. "That's not what I'm saying. You can keep going the way you're going. Or not. The best anyone can offer you is choice. Doesn't make any difference if you're mortal or Fae, kid, this ain't a perfect world."

"I'm not a kid."

"Don't fool yourself, babe. I don't know how many years you've got on you but you're still a kid. You got a lot of pride, but you don't know how to act. You have no boundaries. Everything that happens is personal to you, you're responsible for everyone and everything."

"I'll bet you have a lot of friends, talking to people like this. Pointing out their quirks, giving advice — whether they want it or not."

"Talk to Abby, Tony. Make her help you."

"It would help if I knew who I was supposed to be looking out for." My voice went loud even though I was trying to keep calm. "Everyone drops hints left and right but no one tells me anything. Okay — I'm stupid. Just spell it out for me. Talk to me, tell me —"

"The answer you seek is in your hands," Madame Absinthe said.

I was sort of prepared for her to show up sudden but even so, she startled me. She glided into the room making less noise than a cat. The door swung shut behind her. Eventually, I croaked out, "What?"

"All you have to do is look," she said.

So I did that — stared down at my hands. Noticed right away that I was still pretty cruddy but couldn't divine anything from that and was about to say so when she snapped out, "Look!"

The only item of significance, of course, was the Gemelo house ring. The garnet blazed back at me like a single, bloody eye. And I got it. Apparently, my darling Tasia was still turning the screws even from afar. Before I could open my mouth, before I could ask for sure, Absinthe broke in.

"The power is in the naming," she warned so I shut up. Closed my yap although the caution was almost unnecessary because I couldn't actually give voice to what I was really thinking.

Madame Absinthe gazed down at Archie. "I should have known you would not be able to keep still," she said.

"Shucks. You caught me."

They were looking at each other all loving and tender and like that. I didn't resent it. I didn't envy it. All I felt was empty again but even so, it was the kind of empty you get just before the mad. Just before the rage and the hurt and craziness comes. If I'd been mortal, I'd have been panting like a dog.

But the next thing I knew, Absinthe's got me by the shoulder in a grip like a steel vice. Cold iron couldn't have been stronger. She was ready to twist my head off in less than a blink.

"You will not loose control here," she snarled. "You will not bring trouble to my house or to my people."

We shared a very iffy moment at that point, the two of us, glaring at each other. Then the Bearcat spoke up, real casual-like, saying, "Don't worry, Abby, he won't lose it. He's not going to hurt anybody."

The second Archie spoke, I knew that was true although I wondered how he could know it before I did. Absinthe remained uncertain. She wasn't taking any chances, she didn't drop her guard and I couldn't blame her. Then, suddenly, very clearly I got the true-drift lurking behind her defense that with me out of the way permanently, many major problems would be solved for her. Maybe for some other folks as well. Her fingers tightened into my shoulder as she picked up on my new awareness. Hip-hip-hooray. We were all finally dealing from the same deck.

Absinthe's eyes kept their blood sheen. Her head twisted to one side a bit and she bared her fangs, hissing. Shock cooled me down. I didn't flinch away from her. Just gazed back and sent it out like it was, <We are one Blood>

It wasn't a plea, a protest or challenge. It was the truth. That I should be the one to bring it up rattled her cage somewhat and she let go. She backed off. The fury disappeared, her expression dropped down to neutral and I found myself facing the Ice Queen again.

"You want we should back out of here, me and Rick?" I asked, wondering how much grace I'd won. "You going to give us a running start?"

"Do not be absurd," she says like I'm the one playing games.

"I don't really understand what's going on or why," I said. "I do know trouble follows me. Death follows me. Your cards aren't wrong, Madame. Leaving is probably best."

"Go or stay — am I to choose?" she asked. "Which would you prefer?"

"Archie says I should ask you to help. To teach and tell me what I should know. Can't do that if I'm not around."

Incredulous, Absinthe looked over at the Bearcat who managed a weary shrug.

"I already know my shoe size is bigger than my brain," he said. "But I also know what a way you have with orphans of the storm."

"It is not raining."

"Not now," he said.

A little tongue of fury blazed up my spine at the "orphan" remark and I scowled at him, too.

Archie looked at me and laughed out loud."Abby, how can you resist that kind of kick-ass charm?" he asked.

"Easily," she concluded, still in a huff. "However, I have offered you the hospitality of the realm and I will not rescind. As for providing any additional assistance, I will have to consider that. Your associate is waiting for you."

Sounded like 'good-bye' to me. So I headed out, knowing more than I had when I went in and feeling a lot more confused.

Rick was sitting alone and alert back where I left him. I was surprised at how relieved — and glad — I was to see him. When he looked my way, I could tell he was thinking similar thoughts, like how thrilled he was that our hosts hadn't turned either of us into cat food. An encouraging experience for both of us, the best we'd had in a while.

"You okay now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Fine. You?"

Rick stood up and headed towards the stairs. "Peachy. Let's get out of here."

"Where?"

"I've got directions," he said.

"I'll bet you do," I told him.

We walked out. White Russian was in the middle of another set. They were great but I had other things to think about. Duncan didn't wish us a "good evening" or anything like that as we went out the door and we didn't speak to him which was all right. I'm not keen on artificial sentiment.

But the dogs were sincerely pleased to see us when we piled into the van and that was fine. Rick got behind the wheel and pointed us toward the beach. We left the yellow streetlight blaze of Phoebus proper for a smattering of pitch-black suburbs that gave way to a shallow forest. We followed the signs to Grand View.

Rick was tired and too full of his own thoughts to supply much chatter. I think I know how he felt. When a body sees so many new and/or different things all at once, it's better to keep still. Rick was probably still sifting data. Me, too.

After a while, I said, "You know a lot about football, don't you?"

He squinted over at me, curious. "Yeah," he said.

"I don't know anything about it. Never wanted to. Always looked like a bunch of guys ripping into each other. Fighting. Like war games or something."

"It would. You have to be strong and big to play pro like Archie. But you have to be smart, too, and fast. There's as much strategy involved as brute force. War games isn't a bad comparison."

I didn't get it. He could tell that looking at me.

"Suppose you have a conflict situation," Rick went on. "A war with a prize."

"The ball?"

"Yeah. You got two teams that want it and are ready to fight for it. If it was a street thing, everyone would line up facing each other and duke it out to the last man. Football's more like a campaign. You don't worry so much about the other guy hitting you, you know that's going to happen. You make plans for what you're going to do when it does. Thing is, the other guys are preparing for your strategy, they're trying to out-guess your move and counter attack."

"Uh-huh."

"You've got to be able to think on your feet while you're advancing towards the goal."

"What happens if one team keeps out-guessing the other?"

"Stalemate. It's not much of a game."

Rick turned down a narrow gravel and sand road leading to a long row of beach houses along the shore. There was a "Private Drive — No Trespassing" sign posted and we stopped in front of a length of chain strung between two rusty posts. I got out to unlatch the chain. Right away, a swarm of night's-breath appeared in a black cloud and I knew we were in the right place. Night's-breath looks like your basic mass of flying insects — gnats, mosquitoes, moths, flies — and make nasty, belligerent and effective little guardians, a gift from the Elven Host to their midnight cousins back when we were on more cordial terms (so I hear tell). They're not much on the road but great guards for stationery dens. Their bite brings on the worst bad-trip flash-hallucinations and paranoia jags guaranteed to drive nosy mortals into retreat. Hard to maintain one's curiosity while swatting away undead "bugs." Should the mortal prove persistent, (i.e. burglars and the like), they'll buzz ahead and sound the alarm. Can you guess what it would be like to break into an apparently empty dwelling and find a Blood who's been dragged awake in the middle of the day waiting for you?

I waited a minute and let them get the feel/scent of me, let them know we were supposed to be there before I unhooked the chain. Decided to explain later about the bugs to Rick — if I needed to. I guessed he'd had about all the new experiences he wanted to deal with for the night. Maybe for the next couple of nights. Rick drove in, I latched the chain again and got back into the van.

It was very quiet driving down Windling Road towards the houses. There was a comfortable sense of Fae presence permeating the touristy, summerhome look of the place. Most of the houses were made of wood — cedar, oak, pine. Some stone. I felt the presence of other powerful friendlies — ash, rowan, birch. The houses were lined up facing the ocean yet each one seemed separate. Private. We looked at the posted names as we moved along, Sea Breeze, Full House, Fey Town, Home Plate, Wild Cards, San Surfse, Little Forever and others before we pulled up at a gray A-frame near the end of the row sporting a plaque that read "Summer's Garden."

You can bet that hit close to home. Naturally, it was lost on Rick and he drove into the attached garage, glad to stop. We closed the garage door and pulled what gear we needed out of the back before heading into the house. Rick groped for the switch inside the door and turned on the lights. We both stumbled to a standstill and stared, open mouthed.

Rick said, "Wow."

And I said, "Yeah."

It was bigger inside than it looked from the outside-front. Deep. Lush. Plush. Like standing inside a Frank Lloyd Wright pyramid. It was part tree house, part renovated, shipwrecked galleon and part pharaoh's castle. There was a free standing, stone fireplace near the center of the room with the living room and kitchen sprawling out around it. Another room and bath near the back that would be Rick's. I guessed I'd find my place upstairs in the apex. The stairway performed double duty providing access to the top floor and the bookshelves that lined the wall from floor to ceiling. Rick and I took most of it in and both started moving at once. He lunged towards the books with the enthusiasm of a man who had been stranded in the desert without food or drink for several days would move towards an All-U-Can-Eat-FREE restaurant. I headed to the other side of the stairs and a massive stereo system and started pawing through the tapes and CDs. Found a bunch of the standard MOR like Manilow, Diamond and BeeGees ... Guy Lombardo — Mel Torme! Choked back a scream. Only snarled a little. Then stumbled into a cache of Billie Holiday, Piaf and the complete works of Miles Davis and started loading them in. Hit the repeat switch so they'd play continuous.

As I recall, Rick and I didn't say a whole lot more to each other that night. There were only a couple of hours left till dawn anyway. I dragged my sleeping bag upstairs but found I needn't have bothered. My bed was already laid out. Could tell that was my earth, a body always can. Just another little way to let me know I'd been expected. I couldn't imagine that Absinthe kept soil samples from around the world waiting for exotic guests to arrive. Didn't think anyone had magicked it in that quickly either. Way I figured it, someone somewhere was hanging around the ether testing the vibes, waiting for me to spazz out again. It probably wasn't the Wicked Witch of the West.

I wasn't too surprised to find Tasia behind my various calamities — which was sad. One of these nights we were going to have to face it down, one on one. Even at this worst I knew there was too much between us to keep us apart forever. Time was against it. Wasn't sure what it would be like when we met up again. I knew what I didn't want it to be.

The music system was terrific. Piaf's cobalt blues filled the house, Fais comme si, mon amour ... forget it, love. Give it up.

Good advice if you can take it.

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