Dirk & Steele 11.5 - Where The Heart Lives by Marjorie M. Liu

Author:Marjorie M. Liu
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Marjorie M. Liu
Published: 2012-08-19T18:30:00+00:00

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Lucy dreamed. Of women and men who turned into crows, and other creatures with burning gold in their eyes; of beings who grew tails like fish, and dragons that breathed fire; dark figures with green shining eyes, and the woman, the queen herself, with a similar gaze, effortlessly regal and unrelenting in her stare.

“Truce,” said the woman, in Lucy’s dream. “Never ask me why, but between us, a truce. For one who loves.”

And Lucy woke up. She was in her bed. Miss Lindsay was seated beside her, as was Barnabus. There were shadows under his eyes, as though he had not slept in days. She wondered, fleetingly, if he might speak to her—if perhaps there were other gifts in her release—but when he picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth with that silent gentle strength, she knew instantly that was not the case.

“Henry?” Lucy breathed. “Mary?”

Miss Lindsay briefly shut her eyes. “Gone. Already gone. Henry wanted to stay to see you wake, but Mary…” She stopped, hesitating. “Mary wanted away from this place, immediately. She said to give you her thanks.”

Miss Lindsay made the words sound flat, cheap. Barnabus looked unhappy. Lucy did not know what to think. She felt an aching loss for Henry. She wanted to see him, but thought of Mary, twenty years trapped, and knew why the woman had run—and that where she went, so would he. No choice. She was his home.

Miss Lindsay seemed to read her mind—she was good at that, Lucy mused wearily—and said, “For both of us, thank you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you, always.”

“It was her, not me,” Lucy pointed out. “She gave us up.”

Miss Lindsay looked sideways at Barnabus. “She does that, sometimes.”

Lucy shifted, uncomfortable. “What is she?”

“I don’t know,” said Miss Lindsay. “She is old, though. Her kind always are. So old, they don’t have children anymore. Not with each other, anyway.”

“She’s lonely.”

“Tell Henry that.”

Lucy held up her hand. “He and Mary have their time now. Time to make their own way.” Time to finish what they had started, if such a thing was possible. To have their honeymoon, their marriage, their life.

Miss Lindsay murmured, “Patience. I told Henry—both of them—to have patience. They’ve been through so much. Neither is the person the other married. Not anymore.” She glanced away, bitterness touching her mouth. “Is it wrong to wonder whether I should be happy for them?”

Lucy closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of Barnabus’s hand. “Did you ever marry?”

Silence, long and deep. Finally, Miss Lindsay said, “A woman like me rarely does.”

Lucy opened her eyes and gave her a questioning look. The woman sighed. “I’ll tell you some other time, perhaps.”

Some other time, Lucy thought. Like how you read minds? Or how sometimes you are a woman, and sometimes a crow?

Miss Lindsay stared at her, startled, and then laughed out loud.

“Yes,” she said, still smiling. “Just like that.”

But she never did. At least, not for a long while. One morning soon after, she

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