Laura Jo Phillips (3 page)

Berta held up one hand when she saw that Merrick was about to speak again.  “I do not mean to be rude,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice.  Her past life, her current situation, was not their fault.  “You can see by looking at me that my life is nearly at an end.  I know what an Arima is, and what it means to the three of you.  But I cannot be what you want.  I’m sorry.  It is simply not possible.”

Berta turned and walked toward the sofa and sat down.  Standing too long was painful, and from the look on Merrick’s face, this was going to take more time than she’d hoped.

“Miss Simms,” Merrick said after she was seated.  “We understand that your current physical state is no longer that of a young woman, but we think that can be corrected.”

“Corrected?” Berta asked with no hint of curiosity or interest. 

“When an Arima goes through the transformation process and becomes a full Jasani, her body is essentially remade.  There is reason to believe that the signs of aging will be cured.”

Berta lowered her eyes to her hands and studied them absently while she thought about what he’d said.  After a long moment she sighed and shook her head.  “No,” she said.  “I do not want to do that.”

“Why not?” Merrick asked in surprise.

Berta frowned up at him, her eyes narrowing angrily.  “I do not believe I owe you an explanation for my decision.”

“No, you do not owe us an explanation,” Merrick said.  “But we ask for one.”

Berta glanced at Hope, who raised her hands and shrugged.  It was up to her.

“Is there a place where we can talk privately?” Merrick asked Jackson.

“Berta?” Jackson asked, putting the decision in her hands.

Berta looked at Merrick for a long moment, then Torrick and Jerrick.  She’d been very careful to give no outward sign of it, but she clearly sensed all three men, and their emotions.  They were rocked by her appearance, even though Berta was certain they had been forewarned.  They were even more shocked that she’d flatly refused the chance to become young again.  But more than that, they were deeply afraid that she would send them away without giving them a chance. 

The idea of herself with these three handsome young men was ludicrous at best, twisted at worst.  Could they not see that? 

“It’s fine, Jackson,” she said with a sigh.  “I will speak with them alone.  But I will
not
leave the ranch,” she added, turning her gaze on Merrick.  “You must promise me that.”

“Of course,” Merrick agreed.

“The Katres have a house here that is somewhat isolated,” Jackson said to Merrick.  “They have given us leave to loan it out at our discretion during their absence.  I will speed travel Berta over there while Clark gives you directions.”

Berta saw Merrick nod in agreement, and stood up, making heavy use of her cane. 

“Merrick,” Jackson said, his usually calm, easy-going manner replaced by a stern, no-nonsense expression.  “Our ancient law states that no one may interfere between a male-set and their Arima.  Be aware that I will not hesitate to violate that law if I feel it is necessary.  If you object to this, you should leave now and lodge a complaint with the Council.  Until then, Berta Simms is under our protection, and we will act accordingly.”

Merrick gritted his teeth even though he had already guessed as much.  He bowed in acquiescence.  “We understand, Lord Jackson.  We will obey Miss Simm’s every wish while she is in our care, and no harm shall come to her.”

Jackson nodded.  He bent down, gently lifted Berta into his arms, turned slightly and disappeared.  Before Berta had time to take a deep breath Jackson was lowering her to her feet at the Katres’ front door.  He opened the door and flipped on the lights, before guiding Berta inside. 

“Berta, I want you to take this,” Jackson said once Berta was seated in a chair near the fireplace.  He held out his vox and Berta took it.  “If you need anything at all, you just tap it and ask for me, all right?”

“Thank you, Jackson,” Berta said with relief as she took the vox and slipped it into her ear.  “It makes me feel better to know I’m not on my own out here.”

“Never,” Jackson said, gazing into Berta’s eyes until she nodded, understanding how serious he was.  He turned toward the fireplace, saw that the logs were set properly for a fire, and waved his hand.  The logs burst into flame, sending a wave of delicious warmth over Berta.

“The Falcorans fly, Berta,” Jackson said.  “They’ll be here in a moment.  Are you sure you want to do this?  You don’t have to.  I’ll stay here with you if you want.”

Berta was tempted.  She trusted Jackson, and his brothers, Clark and Rob, absolutely.  But she felt as though this was her task to do.  It was not the Falcorans’ fault that she was their Arima any more than it was hers.  She had to refuse them, of course.  But there was no reason that it had to be done publicly.  She had no desire to shame them.

“This will be fine, Jackson, thank you,” she said.  “If I need you, I have the vox.”

Jackson nodded, then turned and headed for the door.  Just as he reached for the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing the Falcorans.  Jackson’s pale blue eyes met Merrick’s violet eyes for a long, telling moment, then he turned and disappeared.

Merrick stepped into the house, Torrick and Jerrick right behind him.  He paused as Jerrick closed the door, trying to decide the best way to approach Berta Simms.  This was a delicate situation, that was certain, and they’d already made too many mistakes in the past twenty-four hours.  First, they’d assumed that the woman staying with the Gryphons was their Arima, and had acted rashly in their excitement.  They’d approached the Gryphon Consuls’ home without following even the most basic rules of propriety.  Then they’d skirted the edges of insult in their behavior toward the women under the Gryphons’ protection. 

Now they were faced with the woman who truly was their Arima, and she clearly had no interest in them, or even the possibility of being young again.  He had no idea how they were supposed to handle this situation, but he knew they had to think first, and step carefully.  Jackson had already made it clear that he would not be as tolerant as the Gryphons had been, and he had no wish to test the Bearens’ resolve.

He had never seen anyone who looked as old as Berta, but that didn’t matter.  She smelled like sun warmed sugar peaches, a scent that he already knew he would never get enough of.  But she also smelled wary, nervous, and a little angry.  The first two he thought he understood, but the anger confused him.  Why should she be angry with them?  They had done nothing to offend her that he could think of. 

He approached the fireplace, bowed, then took the chair opposite her.  He waited while Tor and Jerri found two more chairs in the kitchen and brought them out so that they formed an arc before the fireplace.  Berta sat quietly, waiting, it seemed, for him to start.

“Miss Simms,” he began, “we know very little about you.  We were told that you were kept captive for most of your life, and that you are eighty-two years of age.  Would you mind telling us more?”

Berta tilted her head curiously.  “I don’t really understand why you’d want to know more.  Isn’t my age enough to deter you?”

“Deter us?” Merrick asked in surprise.  She lived with the Bearens, so he’d assumed she understood the true meaning of an Arima, and what finding her meant to them. 

“Yes,” Berta said.  “I’ve got to be at least three times your age.  That’d be fine if you were ten years old, but you’re not.  And please, call me Berta.”

Merrick smiled.  “As you look older than you are, Berta, so do we look younger than we are.  As of our last birthing day, we are one hundred and eighty-three years old.”

Berta was too surprised to hide her reaction.  She’d forgotten that Clan Jasani lived very long lives.  Now that she thought about it, she remembered Hope telling her it was because of their ability to regenerate.  So, they were not younger than she was.  Not that it mattered. 

“You three aren’t human,” she said.  “I am.  We age differently.  The number of years doesn’t matter so much as the result of those years.  I am old.  You are not.”

“Will you tell us why you seem angry with us, Berta?” Merrick asked, deciding to set the matter of age aside for now.

Berta stared at the flames in the fireplace for a long moment as she tried to decide whether to tell them the truth, or not.  She had a basic understanding of what an Arima was, and she suspected it would be very difficult for them when she turned them away.  Because of that, she thought they at least deserved to know her reasons.  She sighed and leaned her head back against the chair, gazing up at the ceiling rather than at their faces.

“Have you ever heard of the Brethren?” she asked.

“Yes, we have,” Merrick replied.  “We were briefed on the events that took place on Earth while the Bearens were there.”

“Then you know that they seek
berezi,
” Berta said.  “Only by mating with
berezi
can they genetically regress, one generation at a time, to their original reptilian state.”

“Yes, we are aware of that,” Merrick replied.  Everyone now knew that the Brethren were descendants of Clan Jasani’s eternal enemies, the Narrasti.

“When I was twenty years old my parents gave me a ground car for my birthday,” Berta said, her voice soft and wistful.  “I was home from college for summer break, so I decided to drive my new ground-car to my grandmother’s home and visit her for a week, then return to college afterward.  I stopped somewhere along the way; a restaurant, rest area, refueling station, I don’t really know where it happened, and I was marked as a
berezi
.  I was abducted and taken to a small compound surrounded by a hundred miles of desert.  I remained there for the next sixty-two years.  For forty of those years I lived in that compound alone.”

Berta lowered her head and met Merrick’s gaze with her own.  “My life was stolen from me because of something I didn’t know anything about, and could not change.  Now, once again, I am wanted because of that very same thing that I can do nothing about, and cannot change.  

“The three of you are certainly nicer about it than the Brethren were.  You have better manners, and you aren’t terrifying to look at.  But in the end, you’re not that different.  It doesn’t matter to you who I am, what I think, how I feel, or what I want.  You don’t even care that I’m an old woman because you think there’s a way to
fix
that so I’ll look younger and be more acceptable to you.”

Berta turned her gaze back to the fire.  “Yes, it makes me angry.  When do I get to live my life the way I want?  When do I get to call my life my own?”

Merrick was so close to a blood-rage from hearing what had been done to her that he hardly dared let himself breathe.  His fists were clenched tightly, his teeth gritted so hard he thought they might crack.  He did not look at Tor or Jerri for fear their struggle would fuel his own.  It was long moments before he trusted himself to speak again, and he was thankful that Berta continued to gaze into the fire, lost in her own thoughts, during that time.

"Berta,” he said when he could trust himself to sound calm, “we are very sorry for the crimes committed against you.  If we could change your past for you, we would.”

Berta turned away from the fire and studied him for a long moment as though trying to decide if he was sincere.  Finally, her lips turned up in a sad smile.  “Thank you, Merrick,” she said.  “But as we all know, the clock does not run backwards.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Merrick agreed.  “We can only go forward.  We ask that you give us the chance to go forward with you.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Berta said.  “Go forward, how?”

“Let us get to know each other,” Merrick said.  “That’s all we ask.”

“To what end?” she asked in confusion.  “I live with the Bearens, and I have seen the Lobos and the Katres with their Arimas.  Their relationships are highly intimate.  You cannot want such a relationship with me, and I certainly have no wish to engage in that type of relationship with you, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Clan Jasani are very close to their animal alter-forms in many ways, Berta,” Merrick said.  “Our sexuality is driven by pheromones.  Our mating fangs descend only when we are exposed to our Arima’s pheromones.  While your body is clearly giving off enough pheromones for us to identify you as our Arima, it does not give off enough to induce the sexual response in us that it would if your body were younger.”

“That’s a relief,” Berta said.  “But it still doesn’t answer my question.  Why do you want to get to know me?”

“Because you are our Arima,” Merrick said.  “The hardships that you have endured in your lifetime should not cost you, or us, the fulfillment of the needs of our souls.  Our souls were made to be together, regardless of the state of our physical bodies.”

Berta was touched by that, and she had to admit that there was some long dead part of her heart that seemed to be stirring in the presence of these men.  But it was hopeless, and she knew it.

“One of the reasons that you seek your Arima is so that you can have children, isn’t that right?” she asked.

“No,” Merrick replied, surprising her.  “It is true that we can have female children only with our true Arima.  But that is not the reason we search for our Arima.  As I said, our Arima is our soul-mate.  We are destined to be together.  We can never be complete otherwise.”