Spinning Fate's Threads

Circe groaned and opened one eye then shut it fairly quickly. “Anybody get the number of that truck that ran over me?”



“Sorry, bebe, we must have missed that,” Skye said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I suppose asking how you’re feeling is a moot point.”



“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Oh, gods! I didn’t miss Abel’s adoption, did I?” she said, sitting bolt upright. “Ow!”



“No. It was postponed until tomorrow,” Gun said. “Glad you’re feeling better, Sis.”



“Me too. At least I didn’t miss it. If anyone thinks for a split second that someone other than me is singing in Abel’s Spirit mother they’re sorely mistaken.”



Abel shot Gun a confused look. “Singing in?”



Gun patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it later.”



“Everyone out now. You’ve seen her, she’s awake and improving. Alle!” Skye said, starting to herd everyone out of the room.



“Mama, I want Abel and Hugue to stay,” Circe said tiredly.



“Of course,” Skye said, taking Reicher by the arm and literally dragging him out. Everyone else followed, saying goodbyes and wishing Circe a speedy recovery as they left.



When the door had closed after Hunt, leaving Circe, Abel and Hugue in the room Abel came and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hugue kept his customary place, looking as though he were trying to hold up the wall.



“Ah, Circe, I’m really sorry,” Abel said.



“Sorry for what?” she asked, looking at him oddly.



“For this,” he said, reaching out and pulling a lock of her hair into her view.



Circe’s eyebrows went up in curiosity and she pulled a handful of her hair over one shoulder into her line of vision. “Well, I always wanted interesting highlights. I don’t suppose it gets much more interesting than silver and gold. Abel, stop angsting. I knew the possible consequences going into this. Didn’t anyone explain how things work around here to you?”



“Not exactly,” Abel said, fidgeting with the comforter.



“Oh, dear gods. Come to me if you have questions then.”



“What did you mean by singing in my Spirit mother?” Abel asked.



“Spirit mothers come into an adoption ceremony on a song to honor them. Usually sang by a member of the family a person is being adopted into. Though Dad just sang it himself because he knew who his Spirit mother was anyway.”



“I thought that only the Council knew who the person’s Spirit mother was until right before the ceremony.”



“That’s the way it usually goes. But Dad’s a precog. Plus it was pretty much obvious who his was because she’d been in his life off and on since the outside of forever.”



“Who is Oracle’s Spirit mother?” Hugue asked from his place by the wall.



Circe smiled a little. “The Voudoun loa Erzulie Dantor.”



“Doesn’t she only claim women?” Hugue asked, now drawn more into the conversation.



“I see you know something of the religion. Usually she does only claim women. But Dad was a child when she claimed him because she protects those who are victims of domestic violence.”



“Ah, I understand now,” Hugue said. “It’s hard to imagine him being a victim of anything though.”



“Anyone can be a victim as a child,” Circe said. “Any other questions, Abel?”



“Not at the moment. I’m sure I’ll think of a thousand and one others after I leave,” he said, standing up. “I’ll come back by later to see how you’re doing.”



“Don’t worry about it. By that time I’ll probably come and find you. Now, go find my brother. You know you want to. Move it. I want to talk to Hugue alone.”



***

Catarina sighed as she made her way down the long hallway to her room. She would have to talk to Takara about keeping a tighter leash on one of her pets because he was driving her insane. It was bad enough that he managed to molest her in all sorts of dark corners she would have never dreamed existed, yet somehow he managed to find them. He took every given opportunity to touch her in some way when no one was paying attention but today was the last straw. The absolute last!



He had been on his knees next to Takara like a good little pet, head down and the whole meek and innocent bit right before the Challenge. He didn’t stay that way. When the fight started he had leaned sideways and very sneakily edged one hand under her long skirts, caressing her ankle with just his fingertips. She’d moved her leg away from his hand a little but she couldn’t move far since everyone was packed into the arena like sardines. She had glared at him only to find his attention turned to the fight and she was looking down at the wealth of glossy black hair he had. She had to admit that he had beautiful hair, which surely must be a high point of vanity for him. She also had to admit, if only to herself, that she wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through that dark mass. He had gotten even bolder as the Challenge went on. He had shifted closer to her and again had one hand underneath her robes but this time the palm of his hand skimmed from her ankle, over her calf and up to her knee. She suppressed the urge to kick at him and thereby possibly distract Circe from the fight as she was right in the front row. That had not been the worst of it though. With everyone so focused on the fight, he used one hand to shift her skirts up enough for him to put his whole head underneath them. Before she could move or protest he had run his tongue along her ankle just above the short boots she was wearing and then nipped the skin there. Not hard enough to draw blood but enough to cause a visible scrape. That was the main thing bothering her because she felt as though she’d been marked in some way.



She was so lost in thought that when she went into her rooms, she didn’t notice someone had slipped in just behind her. She took off her hat and sent it sailing onto the chair in front of the vanity then shrugged out of the heavy outer robes, leaving her in a much more simple day dress. She had unpinned her hair and was just starting to unbutton the front of the dress as she was heading for the bathroom when the sensation of being watched filtered through her distracted mind. She turned to find Isaak leaning against the door to her room.



“Oh, don’t stop undressing on my account, little bird. I’m rather enjoying the show.”



***

Takara and Tres sat down on the sofa in her parent’s sitting room and waited for Watari to explain why he had called them in there after everyone had seen that Circe was okay. Uncharacteristically, Watari was pacing and looking rather stressed about something he apparently had to tell them. Takara finally got tired of waiting and prodded her reluctant parent a little.



“Daddy, what’s this all about?” she asked, looking from him to Tatsumi then Blaze.



Watari sighed and scratched the back of his neck, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s kind of hard to accept to a scientific mind so I’m not sure how to put it forward to an unscientific one.”



“Mom, Dad, any idea what he’s babbling about?”



“He found something . . . interesting when checking on the outer casing samples from Tres,” Tatsumi partially explained.



Takara and Tres both looked at Watari expectantly. “Yeah, well, see . . . the thing is . . . uh, what I found were epithelial cells and you generally don’t find that in androids but in . . .”



“Human skin,” Takara finished. “So, what does that mean, Daddy? We know he bleeds. Which is really friggin’ weird to say the least. What are you theorizing?”



“Hypothetically, with your abilities it’s possible that, since you see Tres’ outer casing as skin in your mind your talent for making inanimate objects real kicked in and made it real skin.”



Takara looked at first her father then at Tres in mild disbelief. Tres simply shrugged.



“You did ask him what his theory was,” Tres pointed out.