Butler, Octavia - Fledgling

“Didn’t other Ina visit Iosif?” I asked. “Did you ever meet others?” She nodded. “That was scary sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Because not everyone treats symbionts as people. I didn’t realize that until I’d been with Iosif for a few years, but it’s true. I remember one guest—actually, he came back recently to negotiate with Iosif for an introduction to you and your sisters. You weren’t old enough yet, but he hoped to win all three of you for himself and his brothers when you came of age. That was never going to happen because your father was smart enough to see what he was.”

“There were three of us?” I said, my mind latching on to this new bit of information about my past, about my family. “I didn’t know that. I asked Iosif, but I was asking him so many questions . . . he never got around to answering that one.”

“There were three of you. This was not a man Iosif would ever have introduced to you or your sisters. This man liked to ... amuse himself with other Ina’s symbionts. He was very careful and protective of his own, but he liked sending them among us with instructions to start trouble, raise suspicions and jealousies, start fights. He liked to watch arguments and fights. His symbionts were so good, so subtle

that we didn’t realize what was happening at first. It excited the hell out of him when two of Radu’s symbionts almost killed one another. He got something sexual out of watching. The symbionts would have died if they hadn’t been symbionts—but then, they never would have been endangered if they hadn’t been symbionts.”

“Radu,” I said, remembering that Iosif had mentioned the name.

“Your brothers were Stefan, Vasile, Mihai, and Radu. It was your father’s right to name them, and he named them for the dead—his two brothers and two of his fathers who died in Romania. Your mothers liked plainer, American-sounding names. Your sisters were Barbara and Helen. You were lucky. Your human mother claimed the right to name you.” She smiled. “‘Shori’ is the name of a kind of bird—an East African crested nightingale. It’s a nice name.”

“Oh,” Wright said. We looked at each other, then I reached into my shirt and pulled out the gold chain with the crested bird.

“Was this mine before?” I asked, showing it to her. “Wright found it in the rubble of my mothers’

houses.”

She turned the car’s interior light on and looked at the bird, then looked at me. “Your human mother gave you this. I think she loved you as though she had given birth to you herself. Her name was Jessica Margaret Grant.”

Jessica Margaret Grant. I shut my eyes and tried to find something of this woman in my memory—something. But there was nothing. All of my life had been erased, and I could not bring it back. Each time I was confronted with the reality of this, it was like turning to go into what should have been a familiar, welcoming place and finding absolutely nothing, emptiness, space.

After a moment, I said, “I wouldn’t want to meet the Ina you described. What about others? Who’s visited Iosif or one of my brothers recently?”

Brook frowned. “There was one a few months ago. He and Vasile owned some sort of business together. He was interested in joining with you and your sisters, and Vasile thought it might be a good match. Iosif was willing to be convinced so this man—what was his name? One of the Gordon family . . . Daniel Gordon! He had his brothers come to see us. Their ancestors were English, I think. They immigrated first to Canada, then to the United States. All the symbionts of Iosif ’s community were told

to notice them, notice their behavior, talk to their symbionts, and listen to them. We did, and no one spotted anything bad. They seemed to be good, normal people. Shori, you met them yourself and liked them, even though it was way too soon for you to mate. They had heard about you and they wanted to meet you. Iosif went down, collected you, and brought you to stay with us for a few days.”

“All because of my dark skin?” I said.

“That’s the most obvious reason. You’re not only able to stay completely awake and alert during the day, but you don’t burn.”

“I burn.”

“You didn’t yesterday.”

“I blistered a little. I tried to keep covered up, and it was cloudy yesterday. Did the brothers like me?” “Have you healed?” Wright asked, interrupting. “I meant to buy you some sunscreen, but I forgot.”

“I healed,” I said and wondered what all this talk of my mating was doing to him. I looked at him but couldn’t read anything more than mild concern in his expression as he examined my face—probably for burns.

“The Gordon brothers were delighted with you,” Brook said. “They wished you were a little older, but they were willing to wait. They planned to go down to meet your sisters and your mothers. I don’t know whether or not that had happened, but it would have been necessary. Your mothers would have to meet the whole Gordon family and then give or refuse their consent.”

“Where do the Gordons live?” I asked.

She hesitated, frowned. “Somewhere on the coast of northern California.” “You don’t know exactly where?”

She shook her head. “Their community has a name—Punta Nublada—but it’s not a real town. It’s only the four brothers and their three fathers and a couple of elderfathers who were born in the sixteen hundreds. It’s amazing to meet people like that.”

“You met them?” Wright asked.

“I went with Iosif and one of Shori’s mothers and some other symbionts to visit them. I loved the trip, but I didn’t know where I was most of the time. I know we flew into San Francisco Airport—at night, of course—and a couple of symbionts from Punta Nublada met us in vans and drove us up. It was more than two hours north of San Francisco Airport and on the coast. That’s all I know. They have a lot of land. Inland, away from their community, they own vineyards. They have a wine-making business, which is kind of funny when you think about it.”

Wright laughed. “Yeah. I’ll bet they still don’t drink it.” “What?” I demanded.

“Old joke from a vampire movie,” Wright said. “From the Bela Lugosi version of Dracula . Someone offers the Count a glass, and he says,‘I do not drink . . . wine.’”

I shrugged. Maybe I’d watch the movie someday and see why that was funny. “We’ll go to Punta

Nublada,” I said. “You’ll find it for us, Brook.”

She looked distressed. “I don’t know where it is, I swear.” “Did you sleep while you were being driven?”

“No, but it was dark.”

“You can see in this darkness—here, under the trees. Your night vision is good.” “It is. But most of what I saw was headlights and taillights.”

I nodded. “They can be a problem. But I think you saw more than you realize.” “I didn’t,” she said. “I really didn’t.”

“We need help, Brook,” I said. “Can you think of anyone else—anyone other than the Gordons—who might help us?”

She faced me and shook her head. “But these people may not help us, even if we find them. I don’t know whether there was a confirmed agreement between your family and theirs. And even if there was, they ... I’m sorry, Shori. They might not want you without your sisters. It’s hard for only children to find mates. Iosif said it would have been hard for him, but he was already mated when his brothers were killed. His mates were just smart enough to get out before he did.”

I shrugged. “All right, even if the Gordons don’t still want to mate with me, they should be willing to help find and stop the assassins. That’s what I really need help with, after all. Human gangs wiping out two whole communities of Ina. Any Ina should be willing to do something about that—out of self-preservation if nothing else.”