Anne Bishop - Bridge of Dreams

The dark glasses wiped out the small distinction he could make between light and dark, and he couldn’t have seen her as more than a woman-shaped blob anyway. Still, he wanted to take off the glasses and see her face, her expression, because he was suddenly feeling that triple resonance, and he was certain Zhahar and Zeela were close by—and were trying to stop Sholeh from saying anything.

Too bad they were up against someone who knew how to play the sibling game.

“It’s all right if you don’t remember anything from your studies. We can continue this another d—”

“Tryad,” Sholeh said, sounding scared and defiant.

“And what are the Tryad?” he asked mildly.

“One who is three. Three who are one.”

Lee rocked back on his heels as he absorbed the words. “Three personalities?”

“Three people .”

That explained the three resonances and the three voices he sometimes heard despite only one voice actually speaking. “One body?”

“A common core, but not the same outer body.”

Zeela had that jagged scar on her left arm, but Zhahar didn’t. So the outer body changed but they shared the innards?

He thought about men and women and how their parts went together.

Ooookay. If he was dealing with a Tryad and only wanted to snuggle with one sister, he was going to have to know more about the race before he and Zhahar put their parts together. And since body and heart were pulling him in the same direction, he was highly motivated to find out more.

“Hypothetically, if you and your sisters were a Tryad, how would you be identified? What would your name be?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she stammered.

“If you can’t even discuss something hypothetical, how will you ever meet the actual world?” He said it gently, but he meant it. Yes, he had tricked her into starting this, but he sensed this was a fork-in-the-road moment—the kind of moment that could alter a landscape enough to alter a life.

At first he thought a swarm of bees was in front of his face. Then he realized it was the buzz of voices all trying to speak from the same throat.

“Sholeh Zeela a Zhahar,” Sholeh said abruptly, clearly stung by his question—or frightened by the truth of it.

The buzzing stopped.

Youngest sister to oldest. That age difference probably was counted in minutes, but he had the feeling those minutes were significant in deciding place within the family. That could explain why, before discovering they were a kind of triplet, he’d thought Sholeh was several years younger than Zeela and Zhahar—really the baby of the family.

“All the same gender?” he asked, still willing to pretend this was an academic conversation. “Or could there be two sisters and a brother, for example?”

“Rarely, but it happens. It’s usually three sisters or three brothers.”

“Who have different personalities and different skills.”

“Sisters in a one-face family wouldn’t be expected to be the same,” Sholeh said defensively.

“One-face?” Lee whistled. “Darling, I know an insult when I hear one. Although calling me two-faced…” He stopped, feeling fragile as he remembered a sister who was no longer whole.

Sholeh sucked in her breath. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Why? But she wasn’t the sister he wanted to ask.

“So,” he said. “The Tryad sound like an interesting people. They’d have some symbol to represent their people, don’t you think? Something like a heart inside a triangle?” The tattoo Zeela said she had on her arm.

“I think we should go back now.”

Sholeh sounded afraid. Her lack of experience in dealing with the world probably made it easy to trick her into giving too much information about herself and her people—and left her and her sisters vulnerable to discovery. If there wasn’t a reason to fear discovery, they wouldn’t need to hide what they were.

Something else to discuss with Zhahar.

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Yes. We— I—”

“All right. Answer one last question, and then I’ll tell you about another demon race.” And he was going to let all of them know he wasn’t going to be put off by physical differences unless there was a good reason.

“What’s the question?” Wary now.

“When I kiss Zhahar, are you and Zeela going to be watching us?”

A squeaky sound.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Not that I mind, you understand. I learned a lot about kissing when I visited my cousin, and in the Den, you get used to people watching you kiss—although being critiqued by a relative as he’s walking by isn’t appreciated, so you two put aside the idea of being bratty sisters and keep your comments to yourself.”

More squeaky sounds. A flutter of pages as a book hit the ground and was retrieved.

“However,” Lee continued, smiling, “if your sister and I reach the point of making love, you and Zeela are going to have to leave the room, so to speak. I’m not an incubus. I don’t consider sex a performance art. At least, not one that includes an audience.” He paused. “Shall we go back?”

He felt the shifting of resonances and wondered what it looked like when one sister changed into another. Then he didn’t wonder. He felt friendly toward Sholeh and wary of Zeela. But when he was around Zhahar, he felt a heat spiced with something more than lust.

“Weren’t you listening?” Zhahar said fiercely.

Lee pursed his lips. “Am I talking to Zhahar, or is there a little Zeela in the mix?”

Silence.

“I heard what Sholeh said. Knowing you’re a Tryad makes you a lot less confusing for someone like me.”

“Someone like—” A moment of buzzing. “Sholeh didn’t say we were Tryad.”

“I’m blind, Zhahar, but I’m not stupid. Everything about you and your sisters fits the race Sholeh described. Or do you want to try to float an explanation about how you and Zeela could show up so fast without me hearing anyone approach? There is nothing wrong with my hearing, darling. You weren’t here, and then you were. That’s something we need to talk about. But just so there is no misunderstanding when we get there, what I said about not walking in the moonlight with more than one sister also applies to sex.” When she didn’t respond, he reached out and touched her arm before she stepped back.

“Incubus,” Zhahar said. “You said you aren’t an incubus.”

“I’m not.” Judging by her tone of voice, he figured it was best not to mention—yet—that his cousin Sebastian was. “They were the last demon race I was going to tell Sholeh about today, but it sounds like you, at least, already know about them.”

“I don’t know much.” She sounded upset. “Not enough. I thought they were harmless. When she talked about him, he sounded harmless. What are they?”

Not an idle question if she knew someone who crossed paths with the incubus but didn’t realize what he was. “The incubi are sex demons. They travel through the twilight of waking dreams to be dream lovers for women yearning for romance or sex. The succubi are female sex demons.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“The purebloods are deadly. They can kill with sex—and they can change their appearance to look like anyone. Others see humans as prey, since the incubi and succubi feed on emotions, and sex provides a banquet. And there are others who provide a service of sorts.” He took a step toward her but didn’t try to touch her. “You know someone who tangled with an incubus?” Not one of her sisters. He pitied the incubus dumb enough to tangle with Zeela without an invitation. Sholeh? No, if the little sister had crossed paths with a sex demon, even one who was acting harmless, he figured Zeela would be the one asking him questions now.