“Got it. Sure hope Hastet is still waiting. She expected us last night.”
Tisianne’s unresponsiveness was starting to scare the detective. She just kept staring off into space, her arms clutching her belly.
“If this Tarhiji doesn’t know her duty, she at least knows what’s good for her,” was Roxalana’s cold reply.
Again Jay was seized with a dislike so intense it was almost physical. Then Tisianne let out this horrible grunting sound. In a lot of ways a scream would have been easier. Anxious to do anything, Jay popped Meadows.
“My,” was Roxalana’s terribly well-bred reaction. “What a very useful skill. I have longed for it at particularly dull parties.”
“Unfortunately I can’t do it to myself,” Jay said as he watched the sweep hand on his wristwatch.
“What is the range?”
“I don’t know” And then Jay remembered the hideous parasite Ti Malice, and that place, and wondered how far away nightmares lived. Decided he really didn’t want to know – he was afraid it was no farther than the floor beneath his bed. Just thinking about the place was giving him the cold sweats. Time. Jay teleported Tisianne.
Once she was safely away, he asked, “This is taking a lot longer than I expected. Are we likely to have any little surprise visits from Zabb?”
Roxalana shook her head. “I expect this House to be under attack within the month. That should hold his attention more than tormenting Tis.”
“Why didn’t we involve Taj?”
“Because he would not support our actions. He believes the child should die.”
“So why are you involved? You ladies have always struck me more as the Furies than the Graces.”
The smile was as calculating as the light from your average computer. “Because however flawed and inferior this child might be, she still carries my brother’s blood, and mated to a properly bred Ilkazam, she could produce a valid claimant to the Raiyis’tet. And knowing she lives will make Zabb sleep less easy at night, and may… may keep us alive. I am a mother too, Mr. Ackroyd. I wish to see my children thrive. And now we must see you safely through the doors of the quarter.”
Back in Cillka’s room Jay donned the five layers he’d removed through that interminable night and day. As he stood, swinging his ridiculous hat by its ribbons, the woman suddenly reached up and mussed his hair, pulling a lock down onto his forehead. Her smile was pure mischief.
“If you had really spent this many hours in my bed, you would not look so tidy.”
“If I’d spent thirty hours banging you, I’d need a wheelchair, and you wouldn’t be awake.”
She arranged his hat and tied it in place. “You humans are the most awful braggarts -”
Whatever other insults she was going to offer got lost as she got that poleaxed expression that Jay had learned meant a heavy-duty telepathic message coming in. Whatever she heard it was bad. She pressed her hands against her mouth, yanked them down, and blurted, “My husband!”
“Oh, great!” Jay groused. “My nuts just became sweetbreads.”
“He doesn’t care about toys. The problem is he’ll recognize you.”
“And realize that I’m not a toy!” That aspect of the situation hadn’t struck her. When it did, her reaction was all that he could hope for. Cillka panicked and went screeching about the room like a frenzied hen.
“Look, I majored in ‘hide’ in detective school. You got a closet? Under the bed?”
“He’ll scan. Read your mental signature.”
“Too bad I was sick the day we did ‘invisible to telepaths.’ Okay, get out in the hall, distract him. I’ll -”
“He’s got guards. They’ll have surrounded the suite.” Cillka began to cry.
“What, is a conjugal visit to a Takisian wife like sleeping with a black widow? Hubby’s got to come armed for the fucking?”
“Help!” Cillka suddenly screamed. It didn’t do a thing for Jay’s already raw nerves.
“I’m trying!” Jay shouted back, then he realized that she’d simply voiced a telepathic all-points bulletin.
Roxalana, Melant, and Pandasala answered the call. Several connecting doors opened, and the three women came flying through, shedding clothes like trees losing leaves in an autumn storm. As Roxalana hauled Jay toward the bed, the other two applied themselves to physics of undressing while in motion. By the time they all tumbled onto the bed, the detective was down to a shoe, one sleeve from his breakaway outfit, and his hat.
He heard Cillka coo out a name, then the rest of the conversation went into the private mode, and he had no idea what was happening. Couldn’t see what was happening either, because his face was pressed firmly between a pair of milk-heavy breasts. Jay wondered if he ought to have a Freudian childhood flashback now? Instead he decided to avail himself of what providence had offered. He dropped soft little kisses onto the soft skin, felt one nipple crinkle beneath the application of a tongue tip.
A few moments later, and the bed o’ babes crawled off him. It was Pandasala he’d been kissing. He grinned at her. She slapped him. Stormed out. Jay shrugged. Roxalana held out his pants to him. Raised her eyebrows.
Chapter Thirty-One
There was a crane dismantling Jetboy’s tomb. The Great and Powerful Turtle and the Harlem Hammer were taking exception to this activity and were hammering on the crane – one from the top, one at the bottom. The racket was terrible Jay approved of the sentiment, but then the crane collapsed, and it was heading right for him!
Ackroyd woke with a snort and a cough. Sat up on the couch. Pale light was creeping in the window. Haupi was seated on the sill preening her wings. The racket was still continuing from the direction of the kitchen. It ceased, and Hastet came hurrying through. She checked when she saw that Jay was awake.
“Ice chips,” she said, and tipped the glass so Jay could see. “The poor little thing is so thirsty, and she can’t keep anything down.”
“Still no baby?” Jay asked. He was surprised the words could force their way past the fuzz on his tongue. She shook her head. Jay checked his watch. Seven A.M. “Don’t you love it when a plan turns to shit in your hands?”
Hastet continued for the bedroom. The concern was a big change from the cold courtesy with which she’d treated Tisianne for the first few hours. It had all been your highness this, and your highness that. But somewhere in this endless night, distrust and resentment had turned to sympathy. Maybe it was something all women shared. That this suffering was unique to women drew them together. Except Tisianne wasn’t a woman – not really.
Jay didn’t want to go back into that bedroom. It was all too earthy, too primitive. Why wasn’t there some high-tech way to have babies? A culture as advanced as the Takisians ought to have artificial wombs. Unfortunately Tisianne got knocked up on Earth…
He was stalling. Maybe it was because he just couldn’t stop thinking of Tisianne as Tachyon, and there was something so creepy about a man giving birth. Maybe he just couldn’t stand to see any creature in so much pain. Sucking in a quick breath, he pushed open the door and entered.
Not much had changed in the hour and a half he’d napped. Meadows was still hunched in a chair at the side of the bed, Tisianne’s hand clasped tightly in his. His other hand rested on the mound of her stomach. Her gown had been thrown up, and Jay quickly averted his eyes from that expanse of white flesh, and the wide-open legs. Hastet had lifted the girl’s head from the banked pillows and was slipping ice chips between Tis’s chapped white lips. There was something so gentle, so womanly in Hastet’s pose, in those strong, unmanicured hands. Jay felt an unaccustomed tightness in his chest. Thrusting aside the odd feeling, he moved a few more hesitant steps into the room.