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Authors: Anne C. Petty

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BOOK: Shaman's Blood
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“How was your historical meeting?”

“Very interesting. I’ll tell you after we eat.”

Nik slid into his usual chair at the breakfast nook. Alice noted that he sat quietly, just watching her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“What will we do, you and I, at the end of the year, when I graduate?”

Alice stopped painting mustard on bread slices and turned to face him. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far.” Which was a lie, but one she hoped would fend off a discussion she’d been dreading. Change was always unsettling to her, and this impending shift in their arrangement made her queasy.

“I have,” he said, “and the fact is, the only option that lets me stay here in town is to get funded for a post-doc.”

Alice glued the pieces of bread together with a wide swath of tuna salad. “How likely is that?”

“About zero. Not that the department wouldn’t like to keep me around, but there’s no money available, at least in my field. I might finagle something in Microbiology since it was my undergraduate major, but again, it’s a long shot.”

She put a plate in front of Nik and sat down with one of her own. Suddenly, she didn’t feel much like eating, but took a perfunctory nibble. “I assume you’re sending out query letters. Where to?”

“In the U.S., to Penn State, University of Wisconsin, Oregon State University, Washington State University.”

“All cold places.”

“Well, that wasn’t a criterion for choosing.”

Alice could feel her good mood evaporating. She wanted to share the fascinating lead she’d gotten from Milton and the historical society people about the Tanner family and their connection to the old church, but now it seemed unimportant. “What about places abroad?”

Nik shifted in his chair. “There are strong mycological programs at the University of Tübingen in Germany, the University of Oslo, and the University of Copenhagen’s Botanical Institute. I might also try for the CBS—that’s an important center for mycological research in The Netherlands.”

“What about Sweden?”

“I’ve written to the University of Göteborg, and the Department of Forest Mycology at the Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences in Uppsala. And, of course, the Swedish Museum of Natural History in Stockholm.”

“Your parents would love that.”

He nodded. “So they would.”

“What about you? What would make you happy?”

“I—”

The phone rang, cutting off whatever he might have said. Alice cursed to herself and caught it on the next ring. “Maybe it’s Raine.”

“Hi, Mom.” Margaret’s voice was upbeat.

“Oh, it’s you, Munchkin! How’s camp?” She smiled at Nik and mouthed ‘Margaret’ at him. “Hey, you won’t believe this, Nik found Sesshomaru!”

Margaret whooped through the receiver. “Wow, that’s the bomb!”

“I don’t know the specifics, Nik was still at the vet with him when I got home. I can call you back or e-mail you once I get the details from Raine. It’s the best news I’ve heard all week. So, is everything okay there?”

“Killer. Would you tell Nik that our butterfly project got an Honorable Mention in the camp-wide competition?”

“That’s great, Munch—eh, sorry. I really am trying to break myself of the habit. I know you hate to be called that now. Anyway, I’ll let you tell him yourself. Hang on.” She handed the phone to Nik. “She’s got something cool to tell you.”

Nik took the phone. “Vad?”

“Hej, Nikster! Our neighborhood butterflies catalog got Honorable Mention. Isn’t that great?”

“Ja, det var kul. Very nice.”

“And my roomie Tom got Third Place for her thing on America’s Top Ten Worst Hurricanes. And guess what, Mom’s birthday is on the same day as the Galveston Hurricane of nineteen-hundred—September the eighth. The Galveston hurricane is number one, at the top of the list. It’s the all-time worst.”

“That’s auspicious, in a disturbing sort of way.”

Margaret started laughing. “Yeah, kind of suits her.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Alice cut in.

“Your upcoming birthday coincides with the most devastating hurricane in U.S. history.”

Alice groaned. “Figures.”

“Have you made some good friends, then?” Nik said.

“Oh god, the best. Well, anyhoo, I just wanted to tell you about the science project. Tack så mycket. Did I say that right?”

Nik smiled. “Perfect.”

“Okay, then. Laters. Say bye to Mom for me.”

“Right. Margaret says ‘bye.’” He handed the phone back.

Alice hung up the receiver. “You’re really good with her.”

He shrugged. “She has a lot of potential, you should be proud of her.”

“I am. But …”

“But what?” Nik was looking at her with that passive ice-blue stare she found sometimes intriguing but mostly squirm-inducing.

Alice looked away. “I worry about her. I worry that I may somehow be the cause of that thing that turns her dreams into nightmares. I worry that … forget it. The whole thing just makes my head hurt.”

“What were you going to say?”

“You really want to know?” Alice could feel the blood draining from her face. She’d vowed never to have this conversation again, yet here she was, diving in. “I’m afraid for her safety, and mine, and anybody who’s close to us, like you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me—”

“But I do! Nik, I would die if anything happened to you!” Alice bit her lip and waited. If that didn’t get a reaction, nothing would.

Nik leaned across the table. “I’m not worried for myself. But I don’t want you, or Margaret, to live in fear. Wouldn’t you like to live somewhere different, someplace completely removed from all this history that causes you so much angst? Stockholm is beautiful, winter or summer.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that, if I can get a good position early next year, we should all move together. Just consider the idea, will you?”

“Move together, how?”

“As a married couple with a child.”

“Nikolas Thorens, was that a proposal you just sailed past me?”

Finally, he smiled with his whole face. “Yes, it was.”

Alice licked her lips. “I have a lot of ifs … like, if I didn’t have a kid in school, and if I weren’t well-employed in a job I love, I’d say let’s do it tomorrow. Elope and get the hell out of here. But—”

“Shh. Just give it some thought.”

“I will. I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 22

 

 

 

August 12, Friday—Present Day

 

Alice woke just after dark from a nap she’d only intended to take for ten minutes before confronting the task of making Friday night supper for herself and Nik. Instead, she’d been asleep for nearly an hour, which wasn’t surprising, really. She’d been walking around for days with that numb, sleep-deprived feeling that typically set in when she couldn’t get through the night without waking up every five minutes. It was as if some virus security system in her brain went into action whenever something potentially harmful tried to load itself, blocking the dream and waking her up. Some nights she couldn’t fall asleep at all.

Feeling groggy and out of sorts, she sat up and hung her feet over the side of the bed, trying to get the cobwebs out of her brain. Maybe if she got in the shower, it would wake her up properly. Then she might be more willing to go stand in front of the pantry waiting for inspiration to strike.

She pulled off her shirt and shorts and shuffled out into the hallway, and then noticed the light was on in the bathroom. The door was open, and she saw that Nik stood naked, staring at his face in the mirror over the sink. In one hand, he held his ponytail in a tight wad and in the other he adjusted his grip on a pair of scissors.

Alice bolted down the hall, as it dawned on her what he was about to do. “Stop! What the hell are you doing?”

Nik lowered the scissors, turning toward her voice.

“It’s getting long. I thought maybe I would cut it before getting in the shower.”

Alice crammed herself into the tiny bathroom behind him. “Good God, don’t do that!”

He looked at her sideways. “Why not?”

“Because … long hair on men is sexy, that’s why!” she said, blushing, her secret fetish revealed.

“Ah. If I cut my hair, I lose my sexual prowess, eh? How biblical.” He was almost smiling.

Alice put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his back. “Please don’t cut it.”

“Just for you, then.” He put the scissors back in the medicine cabinet and let his hair fall loose. It brushed across Alice’s face.

“Mmm.” She squeezed him and slid her hands down.

“You want to do that in the shower?” he said, turning around.

“Sure, why not? But I can’t picture how we’re gonna do it standing up.”

Nik traced the line of her collarbone with a fingertip. “I can pick you up.”

“No way.”

“You’re not that heavy,” he said, stepping behind the shower curtain with its cascading ferns and hummingbirds.

Indeed, thought Alice. “Swedish studmuffin,” she said aloud.

“Vad?”

“I said, we can even leave the door open.”

His response was drowned in the sound of rushing water.

Alice dropped her underwear to the floor and stood for a moment, seeing his form through the shower curtain and feeling that momentary flush of excitement she remembered from the first time she’d stayed overnight in his apartment while Margaret visited her grandmother. That was over two years ago. They’d been through a lot since then.

She pulled the curtain aside and got in behind him. Immediately, sprays of water hitting his shoulder glanced off at just the right angle to hit her in the face. Blinded and spluttering, she ducked under his arm. So much for romance.

“You sure about this?” she said, wiping water out of her eyes.

Nik was grinning evilly, something she didn’t see every day. He reached for her with soapy hands.

At that moment, the phone rang. And rang.

“Double damn!”

“Just let it ring,” said Nik. “If they leave a message, you can call back. If they don’t, eh, who cares?”

“You’re right. Hell with ‘em.”

The phone rang a few more times, and then a male voice mumbled something she couldn’t hear.

She also thought she heard a noise out in the hallway, like something bumping against the wall. But then Nik slid his arms around her and she forgot all about noises in the dark.

 

*    *    *

 

It was nearly eight-thirty by the time Alice dressed, dried her hair, and wandered into the kitchen in search of food she could put together without much effort. Only then did she remember that someone had called and left a message. She punched PLAY beside the flashing message light and recognized the voice at once.

“Alice, dear, if you could call me this evening, I’d appreciate it. I need you to sign some papers authorizing you as a guardian for Margaret’s trust that your mother set up. This weekend, if you could. I’d like to get this settled as soon as possible.” There was a pause, and then he added, as a seeming afterthought, “I’ve got a buyer for Dunescape and should be moving out very soon. I feel uneasy here now, without Suzanne, and, well, just please give me a call. Thanks, dear.”

“That sounded like your uncle,” Nik said, opening the fridge and pulling out bread, a block of Jarlsberg, and a mostly used-up jar of spicy brown mustard. Alice watched him, dubious.

“Whatever you’re fixing, I think I’ll pass. And yes, that was Hal. Wants me to drive over tomorrow to sign something to do with Margaret’s trust fund. He’s sold Dunescape and sounds like he’s ready to get the hell out.”

“To where?”

“Back to Miami, where his old friends are. When we were there for Suzanne’s funeral, he said something about finding a place in Coral Gables. I think that would suit him.”

Nik completed his sandwich and sat down at the table. “What about the old dog?”

“Oh, I don’t think Hal could be parted from Carlisle. I assume they’ll move together.”

“That was good of your mother to make a trust fund for Margaret.”

“Yeah, it sure was. I never had a clue she’d done such a thing. You’d think that if somebody set aside that much money for your child they’d tell you, wouldn’t you? Controlling bitch.”

“But—”

“I know, I know. Whatever I think of her personally, I’m glad she did it and I thank her for it. It means Margaret can go to college wherever she wants.”

“When can she draw on the money?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out in a minute when I call Hal back. Want to drive over with me tomorrow?”

Nik shook his head. “I need to work on the dissertation.” Alice watched with horror as he opened a can of sardines to go with the sandwich.

She took a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and reached for the phone. Settling onto the couch, she dialed Hal’s number, and was a little surprised when he answered on the first ring.

“Hi there,” Alice said. “I got your message.”

“Alice.” He sounded relieved. “I hope it won’t inconvenience you to make the drive over.”

“No, no, I’d be happy to. I could finish going through Suzanne’s things, too. I was thinking I could drive over tomorrow afternoon and spend the night, and then come back on Sunday.”

“That would be perfect.” Hal’s voice was breathy.

“Hal, are you feeling okay? You sound a little short-winded.”

 “I think it might be the stress of these past weeks. My heart has been giving me a bit of difficulty, but my doctor didn’t seem overly concerned when I went to see him yesterday. I have new medication, and it’s helping.” He paused. “It’s just so lonely here without her. Carlisle and I commiserate with each other daily.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice said, knowing there wasn’t really anything she could say to make things better. She was thinking about the letters he’d given her, and how hard it must be for him to let Suzanne go.

“Hal,” she said. “I know you didn’t think much of him, my father, but …” There was so much she wanted to ask about that, but wasn’t sure how far she could push without upsetting him.

BOOK: Shaman's Blood
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ads

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