Butler, Octavia - Fledgling

My symbionts and I moved our things from the cars into the house and relaxed for the rest of the night. There was canned and frozen food, as there had been in the Arlington house, and Wright, Celia, and Brook put together a meal. A short time later we were all asleep.

Just before dawn, though, I left the bed I was sharing with Wright and went to the room Celia had chosen. I was hungry but didn’t want to be in too much of a hurry with her. I slipped into her bed, turned her toward me, and kissed her as she woke. Once the surprise and stiffness had gone out of her, I found the place on her neck where I could feel her pulse most strongly. I licked the dark, salt-and-bitter skin where I would bite her. She didn’t struggle. Her body jerked once when I bit her, then it was still. Afterward, she dozed off easily, resting against me while I licked the wound I had made. Like Brook, she still wasn’t enjoying herself, but at least she was no longer suffering.

When she was asleep, I got up, showered, dressed, and went outside while it was still comfortably dim. I meant to wander around, take a look at the place. But I found Preston sitting on a seat that swung from chains attached to the ceiling on the front porch of the guest house. He looked up at me, smiled, and said, “I hoped you would get up before I got too drowsy. I’m here to speak with you on behalf of the son of one of my symbionts.”

I sat down next to him. “All right,” I said.

He smiled. “We love our mates,” he said. “Their venom never lets us go. We would be lost if it did. But our symbionts . . . they never truly understand how deeply we treasure them. This boy . . . I still miss his mother.”

I waited, very curious. I liked him. That was interesting. I didn’t know him, but I liked him. He smelled good somehow, not in the slightest edible, not even sexually interesting, but good, comfortable to be with.

“One of my symbionts had a son,” he said. “Then about ten years ago, she was killed in a traffic accident in San Francisco. She had gone there to visit her sister. I might have been able to help, but I wasn’t notified until she was dead. Her husband is still alive, still here. He’s one of William’s symbionts. But in this matter ... Well, I promised father and son I would speak to you. The son is twenty-two and just out of college. He’s heard about you and seen your picture. Last night when you arrived, he saw you for the first time. He says he would like to join with you if you’ll have him. He has a degree in business administration, and I think you’ll eventually need someone like him to help you manage the business

affairs of your families.”

I drew a deep breath and smiled sadly. “I don’t know about that, but I think I need more symbionts soon. I don’t believe three is enough, and I’m worried about hurting the ones I have.”

“I wondered whether you were aware of the danger,” he said. “You do need more people quickly. In fact, you need three or four more symbionts.”

“I left one back in Washington. We have an emotional connection, but that’s all so far. I refused to bring her because I didn’t know what I would find here, and I didn’t know whether I could protect her.”

“With our help, you should be able to do that.”

“And I have no home,” I said. “I’ll have to start from nothing. I’ll do that, but with my memory gone, I’ll need a lot of information from you. I don’t really know how to be Ina.”

“You do, I believe, even though you don’t realize that you do. Your manner is very much that of an intelligent, somewhat arrogant, young Ina female. I think you learned long before you lost your memory that you could have things pretty much your own way.” He smiled.

“You see that in my behavior?” I asked surprised.

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about it. A little selfconfidence may be just what you need right now.”

“I have nothing to be confident about,” I said. “I really do need to learn all I can from you and your family.”

“Of course you do. Ask us any questions you like. Best to ask only the fathers. You won’t torment us quite so much.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry about that. I know my scent bothers you.” “Do you remember?”

“No. Iosif told me.”

“I see. Will you have my symbiont’s son?”

“Of course I will, if it turns out he and I like each other. What’s his name?”

“Joel Harrison. I think you’ll like him, and as I’ve said, he’s seen you and he wants to be with you. And as a bonus, his father saw you last night, too. They were both on guard. He got a look at you and liked the way you stood up for your symbionts. He said you would take care of Joel.”

“As best I can,” I said. “But—”

“You’re with us now. You aren’t alone. And what you said earlier about having nothing . . . that probably isn’t true. Your mothers and your father owned large tracts of land, several apartment buildings in Seattle run by a management company, and interests in several businesses. They had substantial incomes. Daniel was involved in some sort of business venture with one of your brothers. He knows something about their affairs, and we can find out more. Eventually, what they owned will be yours.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I knew they owned the land they lived on, but I didn’t have any idea what else there was or how to find out about it.” I frowned, remembering something I had read about on Wright’s computer. “Would they have left wills?”

He frowned. “Well, yes, but they would never have foreseen being so completely wiped out. We’ll find out. Somewhere along the line, there will be a lawyer or two who’s been bitten and who, as a result, will be very helpful and very honorable about seeing that your rights are respected.”

I nodded and repeated, “Thank you.”

He stood up, and it was as though he suddenly unfolded, tall and lean. “You’re welcome, Shori. Now, I think I’d better introduce you to Joel so that I can get to bed.” He raised his arm and beckoned. A young man emerged from one of the houses across the road. The man was as tall as Wright, but not as heavily muscled. And this man was as dark skinned as I was and had hair like mine. He walked toward me with

a little smile on his face. I got the impression he was excited—both happy and very nervous.

I liked the way he looked—strong and wiry and healthy and brown, striding as though there were springs in his legs.

“You will have to talk to your first,” Preston said. I glanced up at him, startled.

“You don’t want them fighting or competing with one another in ways that make the rest of you miserable. Each must find a way to accept the other. Each must find a way to accept the other’s relationship with you. You must help them do this.”

I sighed.

The young man came up to me, towering over me, smiling down.

“Shori Matthews, this is Joel Harrison,” Preston said. “I believe the two of you will be very good for one another.”

“Thank you,” I said to him. And to Joel, “Welcome.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Joel said. Slowly, deliberately, he extended his arm, wrist up, clearly not so that we could shake hands.

I laughed, took the hand, kissed his wrist, and said to him, “Later.” “Date,” he said. “Is there room for me over here?”

“There’s room.” “I’ll get my stuff.”

I watched him walk away, then said to Preston, “He smells wonderful.”

Preston crooked his mouth in something less than a smile. “Yes. He’s been told that, I’m afraid. Be good to each other.”

He had started to walk away from me when I stopped him. “Preston, do you know whether I had my own family of symbionts before . . . before the fire?”