The Mutant Prime (19 page)

“Sure. Come on.” He took her hand and led her out into the corridor. A right turn, then a left, and another right found them in the pink granite hallway that Melanie had first walked down—was it only hours ago? It felt like days. And Yosh’s hand felt warm around hers. When he let go, she was sorry.

“Hmm. The door’s closed,” Yosh said. “That’s strange.” He put his hand against the palmpad. The door irised open with a hiss. But the room was empty. There was nothing in it but late sunlight slanting in through the windows.

“Tavia?”

Melanie stepped in after him. “Looks like Nesse’s gone, too.”

“Who?”

“My colleague.”

“That bald one?” He made a contemptuous face. “I like hair.”

“How do you know what she looks like?”

Yosh shrugged. “I was watching when you arrived.” He turned toward the immense wallscreen. “Wonder where Tavia is. I’ll try calling her.”

He punched in a five-digit code.

The screen stayed blank.

“No answer. That’s really strange.” Yosh tapped in a different code. “Still no answer. I don’t like it.”

“What don’t you like?” a light tenor voice inquired silkily from behind them.

“Ashman!” Yosh spat the name out. “Where’s Tavia?”

The pale man floated across the room to lounge insolently in the bronzed leather chair near the alabaster desk. “I believe she’s resting after a strenuous interview.” He chuckled. “She said she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“The interview is finished?” Melanie said.

“Hours ago.” Ashman turned and seemed to focus on her for the first time. His eyes were glowing silver. Melanie felt as though she were falling into them. Only the touch of Yosh’s hand on her shoulder kept her steady.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. But her heart was pounding in fright.

Ashman stood up and walked toward her, a look of disbelief and apprehension on his thin, pale face. His ivory silk robes whispered as he moved.

“What are
you
doing here?” he whispered.

“What do you mean?” She backed away. Could he tell that she was a mutant? If so, she had to bluff.

His gaze never wavered. “I didn’t expect to see you, or anything like you, in my lifetime.” He smiled coldly. “But it seems our calculations were off. By quite a bit.”

That magnetic, silvery gaze had sent chills coursing through her, but Melanie ignored them and took a bold stance, hands on hips. “What are you babbling about?” she demanded.

Ashman stared a moment longer. Then he blinked. Shrugged. “Nothing, nothing. Mutant business. And you obviously aren’t a mutant. Or are you?”

Before Melanie could respond, she felt the blue lenses covering her eyes lifting away, levitating out and upward like twin sapphires, to hang, sparkling, suspended in the glow of the overhead spotlights, just beyond her grasp.

Beside her, Yosh gasped. She knew he was staring at the mutant gold of her eyes. His look of honified surprise was like a terrible blow. She hated this Ashman, whatever he was.

“A nice trick,” she snapped. “But a telekinetic in any third-rate sideshow can do that.”

Ashman bowed at the intended barb. “So you don’t deny your heritage?”

“Difficult to do now, isn’t it?”

“Then why don’t you reclaim your disguise? Or compel me to return it?”

She gave him a contemptuous look. “If you really were a supermutant, you’d know why. I’m a null. And you’re obviously a fake. Now give me back my lenses, damn you.”

He stared at her in genuine surprise. “A null? I hadn’t considered that.” He nodded. “Yes, of course. It makes sense. Perfect sense.” With a blink, he restored her blue lenses to her eyes.

“What’s he talking about?” Yosh said. He looked confused, pale but determined.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s just playing hocus pocus.”

“Why can’t I reach Tavia?” Yosh demanded. “Where is she?”

“Who knows? I hardly keep tabs on her.” Ashman shook his head. “Once that reporter left, Tavia disappeared. Told me to take charge until she feels better. Touch of the flu, probably.” He gave Yosh a sharp glance. “You don’t look so well yourself, musician. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go and lie down? I’ll be happy to entertain your friend.”

Melanie’s heart beat faster. This Ashman gave her the creeps. She was thankful when Yosh took a step between her and the supermutant.

“I appreciate your concern, Ashman, but Melanie was just leaving. With me.”

Ashman sank back into the chair and began buffing the nails of his right hand. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dear Yosh, that it appears that all the building hydraulics have failed. It happened right after that newswoman left. No idea when they’ll be fixed.” He yawned. “Perhaps you’d both like to have dinner with me. Yosh, you could play the fiddle, or whatever it is you favor.”

Yosh put his arm around Melanie. “Thanks. Maybe later.”

He led her firmly out the door. Behind them, Ashman’s laughter floated mockingly on the air, pursuing them down the corridor.

The room was dark. Quiet. The red coldlight numerals of the bedside clock read 7:45. Still half asleep, Michael reached out for Kelly one more time. His hands closed on air. Beside him, the bed was empty. Where had she gone?

He padded into the bathroom. No sign of her. But he hadn’t dreamt it. The memories of the evening clung to him. Somehow, they’d even managed to find his room, sometime in the middle of the night.

A yellow message light blinked on the wallscreen.

Had to go. On duty at eight. See you tonight?

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He pressed the wall panel. The heavy blue curtains sped apart, admitting filtered February desert sunshine to dance over the deep blue carpet. Another press of the trigger, and the mechmaid rolled out of its wall slot, green lights blinking, eight arms extended. With lightning speed it made up the bed while dusting the wallscreen and windows.

Whistling, Michael peered into the bathroom mirror as he applied depilatory cream. Then he took a sonic shower and dressed in a lightweight gray suit. So what if his life was shattered, he thought. Out of the ashes, he’d found Kelly. Better make a reservation somewhere for dinner, he thought. Champagne. Flowers. Then he hesitated. What the hell. Get room service.

The screen buzzer rang.

“Yes?”

“Dream Haven call for Mr. Ryton.”

Michael froze.

The male nurse stared at him with open disapproval. “We’d expected to see you here,” he said. “Your father’s condition is worsening, Mr. Ryton. The family is advised to hurry.”

“Thanks.” His heart thudded. He had to call his mother right away.

The door buzzed and he hit the release key.

Jena stood on the threshold, eyes glittering. She was wearing an iridescent pink tunic and leggings, which, at first glance, gave her an ethereal appearance, as though she’d just stepped out of a soap bubble.

“Hello, dear.” She pecked him on the cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“You asked me to come. Or did you forget?” She brushed past him into the room, leaving a trail of musky perfume hanging in the air behind her. The mechmaid beeped with alarm and rolled out of her path, racing for the safety of the wall slot. “After all, in such a stressful time, a man should have his family with him. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I thought you had ‘business’ at home. What happened? Get stood up?” He leaned back against the bar, arms crossed in front of him.

Jena’s laughter ended on a high, uncertain note. “What are you talking about? I almost think you aren’t pleased I came all the way out here to give you support.”

“It’s a little late, isn’t it?”

Jena sat on the bed. “All right. Act hurt. I guess I deserve it. I should have dropped everything to come with you. But say you’ll forgive me.” She got up and walked toward him to embrace him. A wave of sensual images came dancing into his mind, projected from her. Michael turned away.

“Save it, Jena. I’m tired. And those adolescent mindshows don’t exactly have the same appeal they did fifteen years ago.”

“Fifteen years ago?” Jena’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. “All right,” she snapped. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?”

“Don’t play games with me, Michael. I saw you on the news last night. And I saw that pathetic normal, Kelly McLeod, too.”

“So that’s why you’re here.”

“What’s so funny?”

Michael’s smile broadened. “I actually was ready to believe you—that you were worried about me.” He rubbed his eyes. “But all you’re doing is protecting your property. Taking inventory. Jena, the good shopkeeper.”

“How dare you talk to me like that!”

He shook his head in admiration. “Jena, you went into the wrong business. You’re too good an actress to waste your life in a boutique, stocking shelves with reedglass.” He reached for his jacket.

“Wait.” There was panic in her voice. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get to my father. He’s been hurt. In critical condition. Not that you care.” He didn’t wait for her reply. The door hissed closed behind him and he was in the street. Time for dealing with her later. With the subcommittee. With everybody.

A pang of remorse hit him as he remembered the call from Dream Haven. What kind of son was he? His father was badly hurt. Possibly dying. And he’d taken time out for a sentimental reunion. His life was crazy. His entire world was crazy. He had to get to Mendocino right away.

He found a payscreen in the shade of the Armstrong Auditorium.

Kelly had told him about Melanie’s reassignment. Maybe she was back in the office by now. “Cable News.”

A receptionist appeared onscreen. Her hair was streaked with a blue and white zebra pattern.

“Melanie Ryton, please.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ryton is currently on assignment.”

“I’m her brother. It’s urgent I reach her.”

The receptionist stared at him—at his eyes—in amazement. Then she turned away, revealing an ear bristling with silver studs, selenium accuprobes, and pressure nodes. “Try code 9758321, area 712.” The image faded.

Sighing, Michael reactivated his credit chip and punched in the code. The screen rang for half a minute before the busy signal cut in. Michael tried the call again. Busy.

He broke the connection, called Cable News, and left Melanie a message to contact Dream Haven.

Better try Jimmy next, he thought.

A minute later, his younger brother stared at him out of the screen.

“Bad news, Jim. Dad took a fall, and he’s in serious condition. How soon can you get up here to Dream Haven?”

His brother’s face paled. He looks so much like Dad, Michael thought. At least the way he used to look: same high forehead and long face.

“I can catch the next B.A.-Austin shuttle,” Jimmy said. “Probably make it to the West Coast in three hours if I’m lucky.” His golden eyes were wide with apprehension. “How bad is he, Michael?”

“I don’t know. They just said come. And hurry.”

Jimmy winced. “That’s bad. Okay, I’ll grab my bag and see you in California.”

Michael stared at the buzzing screen with dread. Time to call his mother.

“Michael I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” Sue Li’s Buddha face was a white mask. Her eyes looked glassy. “I didn’t want to leave without speaking to you first. I’d tried to reach you. I knew you’d call.”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I just talked to Jimmy. He’ll meet us at Dream Haven.”

“Have you found Melanie?”

“Tried. Left her a message.”

“Good. How soon can you come?”

“Right away.”

Sue Li nodded somberly. “I’ll see you there.”

Michael bought the last seat on a quickjet to Mendocino, due to leave in fifteen minutes. He was halfway to Dream Haven before he realized that he’d forgotten to leave a message for Kelly.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing Victor.” Tavia Emory stalked back and forth before the seated mutant, her bronze caftan fluttering like strange wings each time she moved. “You can’t keep Narlydda here indefinitely. Surely you can see that.”

Ashman toyed with a small, green embroidered pillow, humming. She wanted to bat it out of his hands.

“Victor, listen to me!”

“Oh, calm down, Tavia.” He tossed the pillow into the air and left it there, floating lazily in an erratic orbit. “Narlydda will be grateful for the vacation. Besides, I think you’re just jealous.” Twisting like a cat in his seat, Ashman picked an invisible piece of lint from the shoulder of his blue silk tunic.

“Jealous? Are you insane?”

“Now, now.” He shook a reproving finger at her. “No slurs, please. I fail to see why Narlydda should have a problem working here instead of in California. Besides, you want her to change the Moonstation commission, don’t you?”