Oceans embrace, p.23
Ocean's Embrace, page 23
Bryant looked at Sven, and when he nodded, stepped up to the bedside. Checking Leanne over with gentle fingers, he said, “And you will be again soon, I think.”
After a few questions and a short exam, Bryant left, advising them to take it easy and rest. When the door closed behind him, Leanne leaned into Sven. He stroked her hair, and she slept again.
Sven was restless, watching over Leanne.
His belongings and the entirety of his ship were still in custody, so working was out of the question. He supposed he could unpack all the boxes in his Requiem office, but he worried he would be too far from Leanne, that he would not be there for her when she woke.
When her fever spiked again several hours later, he called for Bryant, but it was Dr. Stepilos that arrived to check on Leanne.
“Oh, just a minor spike. Stop your pacing, pup.” The doctor wiped at the air, like he could wipe away the concern Sven felt building in his chest. “She will be fine. When she wakes, give her these.” Dr. Stepilos handed Sven one long, narrow box, and another shaped like a cube. “I spoke to Horatio, and he thought these might serve. I hope she likes them, but if they don’t suit, we can work out something else.” With that, as was the doctor’s annoyingly breezy way, he left the wing, Rebecca trailing after him.
He was surprised to hear that the doctor was in contact with Horatio. While Sven was irked that yet another individual outside of his inner circle was aware of Leanne, he also knew Horatio’s isolation would prevent spread of that knowledge. The genius was a bit like Remi, in a sense; an eccentric hermit, the male was a crab, and the best inventor and genius of his age. He avoided society most of the time, barring the company of his partner and shellmate, and took on very few projects by request. Whatever Dr. Stepilos had brought in the boxes, it could probably be considered a ground-breaking advancement in technology, if not a national treasure.
Sven opened the narrow box first. Folded inside were thin, reed-shaped strips of hardened material… but when he lifted them out, they flexed and snapped into a position. Replacement braces, he realized, made of lighter material than those Leanne currently used. They were also softer, and would not abrade her skin. When he folded them to put them away, they flowed smoothly back into a smaller shape, supple and pliant where they had been strong just moments before. A note fell out of the lid, marked with Horatio’s crabbed scrawl, describing the braces. The material was shock absorbing, based on the designs he preferred for his own vehicles and hydro-lifts. The note concluded with a dig: Any female of Sven’s is likely to need the padding, in case of rock climbing and tomb raiding.
Chuckling at the good-natured jibe, and the implication that Leanne and Sven would make it long enough to have such adventures, he replaced the lid and picked up the other box. In the cube shaped box, Sven found two small cuffs, carved but simple. They looked to be made of bone… but didn’t sound like it. Smelling them didn’t reveal anything else, as they smelled of the Requiem medical wing, and that chitinous smell that marked all of Horatio’s masterpieces. The designs carved in them were fluid and delicate, pretty, even, but something about the cuffs spoke to Sven of resilience and robusticity.
Sven found no note in the second box, and could not determine the function of the cuffs, other than pretty accessories. Setting aside the box, he pushed his concerns about males giving Leanne jewelry out of his mind. Surely there was a good reason, he just didn’t know it yet.
He climbed back into the bed next to Leanne and watched her breathe. When she had become unconscious, he’d removed her braces and boots, but she still lay in the tights and yellow blouse from the evening before. She would be irritated about that when she awoke—Leanne always complained her skin was too itchy if she didn’t rinse and scrub before retiring.
Sven grazed his finger along the seam of her shirt, down her ribs. She had gained weight since he’d pulled her from the sea, thankfully. Swimming as often as they did made her strong, too. She’d be fine.
She had to be.
Zane sent a message to his com, and five minutes later Sven sat down with him at the kitchen table. He was near enough to know when Leanne stirred, but far enough away that their voices wouldn’t wake her.
“So far, we still have no idea how it could have happened,” Zane began. “Francis seems to think food or drink would be the easiest way to get something into her system, and I agree. My gut says it was something at dinner.”
“But we all had the same things, Zane.”
“Yes, but,” Zane held up a finger to delay Sven’s denial. “We are Cetean. We have a high tolerance for venom, and it doesn’t interact with our systems the same way as it does with Leanne’s.”
“We don’t know how it interacts with Leanne’s system.”
“Exactly.” Zane pointed his finger at Sven and nodded. “Bryant and Stepilos agree that she remains unharmed by… you,” Zane continued carefully. “And they agree that if she hadn’t had some exposure previous, she likely would have been grievously harmed.”
“Instead of being only seriously harmed and in a coma-like sleep for most of a day?”
“See, I knew you’d understand.” Ignoring Sven’s irritation, Zane leaned back in his chair.
“But other than that, we’ve got no idea what was contaminated, what she had that could have delivered the venom into her system. I’d like to take a few samples of the food you’ve got here, but, as I said, I think it was at dinner. As there are no leftovers, we can’t test those samples. No one new in the kitchens, and only Mother and Father, Philip, and Francis—well, and me, of course—had any significant notice that she would be here.
“And,” Zane leaned across the table, lowered his voice and continued in a conspiratorial tone, “dinner went so well, I wonder if it wasn’t the venom making us all feel… happier, let’s say, about the whole situation.”
Sven inhaled deeply, processing.
“Think about it,” Zane said. “It’s perfect. Extra venom to our systems written off as the buzz from the drink, or from the company, and no one the wiser. We all have a great time, and no one notices the human dying. The venom has been processed out of our systems already. Doubtful anyone would expect an autopsy, and then her death could have been a random fluke, blamed on any number of other factors. Even if an autopsy was done, and the venom in her system discovered, no one would think foul play. Puny human just got a scratch.”
Sven’s fingers curled into fists on the table.
“My point in all this, brother, is that your human is alive. But, obviously, someone does not want her to be.”
Sven rubbed his forehead. “Who? She hasn’t been here long enough to make enemies—except for Mother, but that was expected.”
Zane shook his head. “I don’t know. But I think you’re wrong about Mother, too.” At Sven’s narrowed glance, Zane said, “No, really. Father is smitten, and you know he’ll talk Ma into liking Leanne.” Zane habitually kept his face blank, but Sven saw the twitch of his lips that was as close to a smirk as Zane would get. “Besides, I heard she held her own over tea.”
Sven managed a smile at his brother. “Yes, she is feisty, that is true.”
“Any female—Cetean, Khatte, or human—that can go toe-to-toe with Ma has my respect.” Zane stood. “I’ll collect those samples and get out of your fringe. Let you know if I find anything.”
When Sven returned to the bedroom, Leanne was sitting up. Her skin was flushed, but her eyes had no fever glaze, and when he touched her, she felt like her usual temperature.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Okay.” Leanne made to stretch but grimaced instead. “Shower.”
Chuckling, Sven helped her from the bed and got her into the shower.
“Wow, these are so light!” Leanne swung her legs, testing the new braces Dr. Stepilos had delivered for her. Made out of soft, pliable plastic-like strips, she could barely tell they were there. They flexed with her movements, and didn’t press hard into her flesh. Still, when she transitioned between steps, or softened her knees as though with fatigue, they retained a strength and durability at odds with their flexibility. “Amazing. You know, humans could really benefit from this tech.”
Sven nodded as he watched her put the braces through their literal paces.
“But you don’t know what those are?” Leanne gestured to the stylized cuffs, still in their box on the island counter.
He shook his head. “They look like jewelry to me, and the right size for your wrists, but I have my doubts whether the medical staff sent you a gift like that.”
“Hm,” Leanne said, sitting down and examining a cuff. “Maybe a new sensor? Like one of those smart watches, or a fitness band of some kind.” Sven only shrugged.
Leanne looked closer and saw that the cuff was designed to twist apart, flipping into an S shape so that she could slide it around her wrist, with the hinge hidden by the decorative carvings. Resembling aged scrimshaw, the pieces had an ancient sort of look, well-worn and well loved. But they felt cool and steady on her wrists, like something much more modern. She decided to wear them, even though their purpose was as yet unknown.
“So, what shall we do today?” Leanne swiveled in her stool to face Sven, who was putting away breakfast. He’d carefully sniffed everything before putting a plate together for her, and Leanne had to admit his paranoia—however warranted—was funny. Seeing a big toothy male sniffing a pack of strawberries, or the eggs like each hid a bomb, was comical. “Or… do we have someplace to be, as part of the investigation?”
“Nope, we should have this one last day before they need us for interviews. Mother said she was waiting until the university reviewed the footage.” Sven gave her an assessing glance. “You should walk a bit, get your land legs. I can take you out to swim, too, if you’d like.”
“A walk sounds good.” It would give her a chance to break in the new braces, or find flaws so she could return them to Stepilos for adjustment.
“Great, then we’ll do that. I think you’ll like the gardens.”
“What about…” Leanne bit her lip. “Your father said something about a tour. Is that still possible? Not that I don’t want to see the landscape,” she added hurriedly as Sven narrowed his eyes at her. “But can I at least see a little more of the manse? Besides these rooms?”
Sven sighed. “Alright.” A resigned look. “I suppose you’ll want my father along, too.”
Leanne grinned. “Pretty please.” She reached for her crutches, hanging of the back of her chair, as she slid down off the seat. Before she reached them, however, her cuffs snapped out of their own accord and unfolded, lengthening with a soft snapping to touch the floor.
Suddenly, her bracelets had become her new crutches. “Oh, so that’s what they’re for!” She gave Sven an incredulous look. Absolutely genius.
Sven smiled, and said, “I knew there was a reason I like Dr. Stepilos.”
Fairly vibrating out of her skin, Leanne could have bounced herself down the hall if he hadn’t placed a hand on her to calm the energy. Sven was aware of the guards making themselves nearly invisible behind them, but Leanne didn’t acknowledge them, if she noticed at all. Turning the corner to the main wing of the Above House, they were met by Vester stepping around the other corner.
“Leanne!” Charming as ever, his father kissed Leanne on the cheek. “You look better.”
“I feel better,” she replied.
“Want that tour?” At her enthusiastic nod, Vester swept out a hand. “Then let us begin! To think, I get to show the first human visitor around the Requiem!”
Sven wasn’t typically a jealous male, but his father’s interest in Leanne rubbed his scales the wrong way. He appreciated the assumption Vester had made; just like Horatio, his words presupposed that Leanne was going to stick around, long enough to pave the way for other humans to enter society. That future wasn’t certain, and Leanne might yet change her mind. She was curious, but when she learned more about his people and culture… Would that remain true? Sven didn’t want to show her the political art that graced the Requiem, certainly not with his father present. Sven wanted to keep her awe and wonder to himself, for as long as he could.
Vester led Leanne through the manse in the direction of his library, and Sven hung back. He let his father tell the stories of the painting depicting a Recent War battlefield, which Leanne studied for long minutes. He let Vester tell the story of the First People who left Planet Earth when they got to that whimsical representation at the following alcove. He could have taken up the tale when it came to the fragments of the Grecian vase at the next alcove, since that was his area of expertise, but Vester was on a roll.
Then Sven’s consciousness finally understood the bells going off in his mind. Vester’s interest in Leanne, in sharing things with her, seemed almost manufactured. Vester was always genuine, but he could be just as manipulative as the next person. He had been a warrior before peacetime, and he enjoyed sharing his academic love—records of histories, stories, myths, legends, and maintaining the narrative of a people removed from their home. He especially enjoyed sharing art, his own or other’s. But today… He seemed just a little too enthusiastic. Like he was pushing Leanne to be as excited about the things he described as possible. It did not sit well with Sven.
What are you up to, old mako?
Three turns later, Vester pushed open the double doors to his personal library. “And this is my office, my holy ground. And my lounge. And often my napping place.” His jovial eyes twinkled at Leanne as he beckoned her across the threshold. She didn’t get far.
“Holy…” Sven watched as Leanne’s eyes grew enormous, and her mouth formed a perfect O. Her gaze took in the rows and rows of books and scrolls on shelves, of electronic archives and their dimly glowing displays, then traveled up to the partial second floor, then the third-floor balcony below the skylight, all lined with knowledge and art. It was the single largest private collection, beside a wing of the University Library, and Sven knew it was impressive at first glance. He didn’t enjoy being here, but it was clear that Leanne was amazed and delighted.
“These are all yours?” She was turning circles to take in the glass cases of delicate scrolls on either side of the doors.
“Oh yes, this is just my personal reading room.” Vester waved casually—too casually—at the collection. “My public office is three times this size.” Leanne gasped at that. “But that one is half public records, at least. A waste of space, if you ask me.” He was joking, Sven knew. His father took the records and related responsibilities very seriously. But Leanne didn’t notice. She was moving to the next row of shelves.
“This is something out of a fairy tale…” She raised a hand as if to touch the spine of one book, but thought better of it.
“You know, I think you’ll particularly enjoy this section.” Vester led her to the far back of the first floor, the geography section. Sven rolled his eyes internally. Just like Father to stage this for her. On the big table in one corner a few books were spread out, with several scrolls and maps pinned down for her to see the layout of the planet and solar system. All of them were Vester’s own illustrations, Sven would bet. Of course, she was fascinated. Sven saw Vester had even found time to translate a few passages to English for her.
What a con.
Within minutes Leanne was so engrossed, Sven knew she’d miss a tsunami in the hall outside. It was then that Vester stepped up to Sven.
Sven tried to stop himself from going immediately on the defensive. He’d never connected with his father, despite their shared passions for culture, history, and the preservation of both. He knew it was strange to others, as well, but the truth was that he was too much like his father for either of them to enjoy spending time together. Vester missed the excitement of traveling, he’d said before, but his joy in it was soured by too many scouting missions and fighting too many wars.
“Sven.” His father’s voice was pitched low, subvocal. Leanne’s implant would translate, but not if it couldn’t discern their voices.
“Father.” Sven pitched his voice low, too, but kept his eyes on Leanne as she compared two scrolls and the maps drawn upon them.
“I would not like to tell you your own business,” his father began.
“But you will anyway.” Sven finished for him.
Vester shook his head. “No.”
“Then what?” Sven watched as Leanne shifted, and a curtain of her hair fell to one side, revealing a small love mark just peeking out of the collar of the shirt she wore—another one of his, that she’d stolen from his closet. The color was flattering to her skin, and the mark showed vibrant against both. His belly grew hot, remembering how he’d given her that mark…
“You have done well.” Vester’s unexpected comment jerked his attention away from his heated memories and back to his father.
“What?”
Vester nodded at Leanne. “She is incredible. I’m proud of you, for what you have done for her, and your courage bringing her home.”
Sven just stared at his father.
“Your mother and I agree on this,” Vester continued. That was even more of a shock to Sven. His mother never approved of anything he did… “But, I’m afraid, you will have to be very protective of her, while she is here.”
“She is independent.” Sven’s brain was working double time to understand what his father was trying to tell him.
Vester nodded. “Yes, but she will be a target here, as has already been proven. Especially once the interview and investigation process starts. And if it goes to trial…”
“This is about the poisoning.” Sven said. Vester narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think it was me? Bryant and Stepilos both said—”
“No, no,” he shook his head again. “That was not what I meant.”
Sven waited. Vester would tell him eventually. One thing you couldn’t call Vester was laconic.
