Butler, Octavia - Fledgling

“Three, maybe four weeks ago,” I began, “I woke up in a shallow cave a few miles from here. I’m being vague about when and where because I don’t know enough to be exact. During my first days in the cave I was blind and in and out of consciousness. I was in a lot of pain, and I had no memory of anything that had happened before the cave.”

“Amnesia.”

“Yes.” I told her the rest of it, told her about killing Hugh Tang, but not about eating him, told her about hunting deer and eating them. I told her about Wright finding me and taking me in, and about finding my father and brothers. I told her the little I knew about the Ina and about what an Ina community was like. I told her I wasn’t human, and she believed me. She wasn’t even surprised.

“You want me to be part of such a community?” she asked. “I do, but not yet.”

“Not . . . yet?”

“My father is having a house built for me. Come to me when the house is ready. I’ll see to it that there’s

space for your books and other things—a place where you can write your poetry.” “How long?”

“I don’t know. No more than a year.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

I was surprised. I had been careful to let her make up her own mind, and I had believed she would come with me, but not so quickly. “I have nothing to offer you now,” I said. “I’ll be living in rooms in my father’s house. He says you can come, but when I saw what you have here, I thought you’d want to wait until you could have something similar with me.”

“I have no patience,” she said. “I want to be with you now.”

I liked that more than I could have said, and yet I wondered about it. “Why?” I asked her. I had no idea what she would say.

She blinked at me, looked surprised, hurt. “Why do you want me?”

I thought about that, about how to say it in a way she might understand. “You have a particularly good scent,” I said. “I mean, not only do you smell healthy, you smell ... open, wanting, alone. When I came to you the first time, you were afraid at first, then glad and welcoming, excited, but you didn’t smell of other people.”

She frowned. “Do you mean that I smelled lonely?” “I think so, yes, longing, needing . . .”

“I didn’t imagine that loneliness had a scent.” “Why do you want me?” I repeated.

She hugged me against her. “I am lonely,” she said. “Or I was until you came to me that first time. You’ve made me feel more than I have since I was a girl. I hoped you would go on wanting me—or at least that’s what I hoped when I wasn’t worrying that I was losing my mind, imagining things.” She hesitated. “You need me,” she said. “No one else does, but you do.”

“Your family?”

“Not really, no. This is my home, and I’m glad to be able to help my daughter and her husband by having them come live here, but since my husband died, all I’ve really cared about—all I’ve been able to care about—is my poetry.”

“You would be able to bring only some of your things to my father’s house,” I said. “A few boxes of books, some clothing, and I’ll be fine.”

I looked around the room doubtfully. “Wright and I will be moving tomorrow. I’ll need your telephone number so I can reach you. If you don’t change your mind, we’ll come back for you and your things the Friday after next.”

“Promise me.” “I have.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” “For a while. Have you eaten?”

“Eaten?” She looked at me. “I haven’t even thought of eating, although I suppose I’d better. Do you eat regular food at all, ever?”

“No.”

“All right. Come keep me company in the kitchen while I microwave something to eat. I don’t think I

should miss very many meals if I’m going to be with you.”

“Exactly right,” I said, and enjoyed every moment of the flesh-to-flesh contact when she bent and kissed me.

ten

No one came for us on Friday.

When the night was half gone, Wright tried to phone Iosif—tried each of the numbers he had given us. At first, there was no answer, then there was a computerized voice saying that the number he was calling

was out of service. He made several fruitless attempts. “We need to go there,” I said.

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.

I grabbed a blanket from the bed, thinking that we might have to spend part of the coming day in the car. I didn’t want to think about why that might happen, but I wanted to be ready for it. Thoughts of the burned-out ruin that had been my mothers’community jumped into my mind, and I couldn’t ignore them.

Wright was not certain how to reach Iosif ’s community. His maps didn’t show the tiny community, of course. Iosif ’s card contained a sketch of a map that turned out to be hard to follow. We got onto what seemed to be the right side-road, but found no turn off where Wright had expected one. We tried another side road, then another, but still did not find the community.

Finally, I did what I hadn’t wanted to do.

“This is no good,” I said. “We’re in the right general area. Find a place to park, and I’ll go out and find the community. I can find it by scent if not by sight.”

He didn’t want me to go. He wanted to keep driving around or, if necessary, go home and try again during the day.

I shook my head. “Find a safe place and park. I need to go to them and see that they’re all right. And if

... if they’re not all right, if this is anything like what happened to my mothers, you can’t be there. If my father or my brothers are injured, they’ll be dangerous. They might not be able to stop themselves from killing you.”

“And eating me,” he said. He didn’t even make it a question.

I said nothing for a moment, stared at him. Had the human symbionts told him or had he guessed? I hated that he knew but clearly, he did know. “Yes,” I admitted finally. “That’s probably what would happen.

Park and wait for me.”

He parked on the highway at a place where the road’s shoulder was wide. “This will do as well as anywhere,” he said. “If anyone wants to know what I’m up to, I got sleepy and decided to play it safe and catch a nap.”

“If you have to move,” I said, “wait for me somewhere south of here along the road. I’ll find you. If you have to leave the area—”

“I won’t leave you!”

“Wright, hear me. Do this. If you’re in danger from the police, from an Ina, from anyone at all, leave me, go home. I’ll get there when I can. Don’t look for me. Go home.”

He shook his head, but he would do it. After a moment, he said, “You honestly believe you could find your way to my cabin from here?”

“I could,” I said. “If I have to, I will.” I took his hand from where it was still resting on the steering wheel. Such a huge hand. I kissed it then turned to go.

“Shori!” he said.

I had opened the door to get out of the car, but his tone stopped me. “Feed,” he said.

He was right. I was probably going to have to cover a few miles and face I-didn’t-know-what. Best to be at full strength. I shut the door and kneeled on the seat to reach him. He lifted me over onto his lap, kissed me, and waited.

I bit him deeply and felt him spasm and go hard under me. I hadn’t bitten him this way for a week, hadn’t taken a full meal from him. I had hoped we would share this night in our new quarters. I liked to take my time when I truly fed from him, tear sounds from him, exhaust him with pleasure, enjoy his body as well

as his blood. But not now. I took his blood quickly, rocking against him, then stayed for just a few minutes more, licking the wound to begin its healing, comforting him, comforting myself. Finally I hugged him and got out of the car. “Stay safe,” I said.