“I left one back in Washington. We have an emotional connection, but that’s all so far. I refused to bring her because I didn’t know what I would find here, and I didn’t know whether I could protect her.”
“With our help, you should be able to do that.”
“And I have no home,” I said. “I’ll have to start from nothing. I’ll do that, but with my memory gone, I’ll need a lot of information from you. I don’t really know how to be Ina.”
“You do, I believe, even though you don’t realize that you do. Your manner is very much that of an intelligent, somewhat arrogant, young Ina female. I think you learned long before you lost your memory that you could have things pretty much your own way.” He smiled.
“You see that in my behavior?” I asked surprised.
“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about it. A little selfconfidence may be just what you need right now.”
“I have nothing to be confident about,” I said. “I really do need to learn all I can from you and your family.”
“Of course you do. Ask us any questions you like. Best to ask only the fathers. You won’t torment us quite so much.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry about that. I know my scent bothers you.” “Do you remember?”
“No. Iosif told me.”
“I see. Will you have my symbiont’s son?”
“Of course I will, if it turns out he and I like each other. What’s his name?”
“Joel Harrison. I think you’ll like him, and as I’ve said, he’s seen you and he wants to be with you. And as a bonus, his father saw you last night, too. They were both on guard. He got a look at you and liked the way you stood up for your symbionts. He said you would take care of Joel.”
“As best I can,” I said. “But—”
“You’re with us now. You aren’t alone. And what you said earlier about having nothing . . . that probably isn’t true. Your mothers and your father owned large tracts of land, several apartment buildings in Seattle run by a management company, and interests in several businesses. They had substantial incomes. Daniel was involved in some sort of business venture with one of your brothers. He knows something about their affairs, and we can find out more. Eventually, what they owned will be yours.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I knew they owned the land they lived on, but I didn’t have any idea what else there was or how to find out about it.” I frowned, remembering something I had read about on Wright’s computer. “Would they have left wills?”
He frowned. “Well, yes, but they would never have foreseen being so completely wiped out. We’ll find out. Somewhere along the line, there will be a lawyer or two who’s been bitten and who, as a result, will be very helpful and very honorable about seeing that your rights are respected.”
I nodded and repeated, “Thank you.”
He stood up, and it was as though he suddenly unfolded, tall and lean. “You’re welcome, Shori. Now, I think I’d better introduce you to Joel so that I can get to bed.” He raised his arm and beckoned. A young man emerged from one of the houses across the road. The man was as tall as Wright, but not as heavily muscled. And this man was as dark skinned as I was and had hair like mine. He walked toward me with
a little smile on his face. I got the impression he was excited—both happy and very nervous.
I liked the way he looked—strong and wiry and healthy and brown, striding as though there were springs in his legs.
“You will have to talk to your first,” Preston said. I glanced up at him, startled.
“You don’t want them fighting or competing with one another in ways that make the rest of you miserable. Each must find a way to accept the other. Each must find a way to accept the other’s relationship with you. You must help them do this.”
I sighed.
The young man came up to me, towering over me, smiling down.
“Shori Matthews, this is Joel Harrison,” Preston said. “I believe the two of you will be very good for one another.”
“Thank you,” I said to him. And to Joel, “Welcome.”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Joel said. Slowly, deliberately, he extended his arm, wrist up, clearly not so that we could shake hands.
I laughed, took the hand, kissed his wrist, and said to him, “Later.” “Date,” he said. “Is there room for me over here?”
“There’s room.” “I’ll get my stuff.”
I watched him walk away, then said to Preston, “He smells wonderful.”
Preston crooked his mouth in something less than a smile. “Yes. He’s been told that, I’m afraid. Be good to each other.”
He had started to walk away from me when I stopped him. “Preston, do you know whether I had my own family of symbionts before . . . before the fire?”
He looked back. “Of course you did. You can’t remember them at all?” “Not at all.”
“Good.”
I stared at him.
“Child ... you have no idea how much it hurts when they die. And you’ve lost all of yours. All seven. If you remembered them, the pain would be overwhelming . . . unbearable.”
“But they were mine, and I don’t recall their scents or their tastes or the sounds of their voices or even their names.”
“Good,” Preston repeated softly. “Let them rest in peace, Shori. Actually, that’s all you can do.” He walked slowly away to the house Joel had gone into. I watched him go, wondering how many symbionts he had lost over the years, over the centuries.
The sun was rising now and growing bright enough to be uncomfortable even through the low clouds. I
went back inside and found Celia frying frozen sausages from the refrigerator. “How are you?” I asked.
“I’m good,” she said. “How about you? You didn’t hurt me, but you filled up on me, didn’t you?”
“I did.” I looked at the sausages. “Do you need more food? You can get things from one of the other houses.” That felt right. No one here would wonder why a symbiont needed to eat well.
“Some butter?” she asked. “There are frozen waffles in the refrigerator, and there’s syrup in the cupboard—good maple syrup—but no butter.”
“Go to the house next door and tell whoever answers that you’re with me. If they don’t have what you want, they’ll tell you who does.”
She nodded. “Okay. Don’t let my sausages burn.” And she ran off to the nearest house, introduced herself, and asked not only for butter, but for fresh fruit and milk as well. I listened while turning her sausages. Wright hadn’t managed to teach me to cook, but he had cooked food around me often enough for me to be able to keep pork sausage from burning. The symbiont who answered Celia just said sure, introduced herself as Jill Renner, put the things Celia wanted into a bag, and told her to have a good breakfast. Celia thanked her and brought them back to the guest-house kitchen. Brook came in just then, and she dove right into the bag, took out a banana, and began to peel and eat it.
“A new symbiont will be coming in sometime soon,” I told her. “Offer him breakfast, would you?” “Ooh,” Brook said. “Him?”
“Damn,” Celia said and sighed. “See, now here’s where I don’t envy you guys. You’re going to go upstairs and kick that nice hairy man of yours right in his balls, aren’t you? A new man already! Damn.”