(Under time pressure to get some of the backlog out from under. If you want, I can replace this with my usual rambling Author's notes.)

(Those of you just joining here, start with Callan and Sian 1)



Sian mounted the stairs to the upper deck. She stood at the top step, letting the wind play with the lower folds her bathrobe as some virginal white flag fluttering away. One hand held the railing, the other pulling tight on the belt to keep it fastened, to keep her modest. She stared at him at the wheel, guiding the craft through the night-black waves. As was his attention undivided to her a brief sleep ago, so was his attention now undivided to the mystery course.

She cinched the belt tight against her waist as she remembered how her body sang at his undivided attention, how it yearned for his touch, his caring, gentle caress. She rued it. Hated it. Loathed her body for its disloyalty, for how it received his gentle strokes and ungentle pinches alike. How it welcomed him, responded to him. Encouraged him, and how he encouraged her.

Her conscious mind turned its fury away from her body to her subconscious, weak and supple. Willing, even. How it answered the body's siren call, how it failed to guard against the intruding sensation, even though seductive as it was. She disdained how it let her internal fire race out of control, and despaired how that firestorm in her subconscious ...

Overtook her consciousness, made it complicit in the crime. Her conscious mind apologized for itself failing, falling, floating.

"Where are we going?" She found her outer voice, urged up the first coherent thought to silence the inner voice.

"Hm? Oh! I didn't hear you come up."

"That's probably because the engine is pretty loud."

"Ah, true, that. I thought you were sleeping when I left."

"I probably was. Again, the engine is pretty loud. Where are we going in such a hurry?"

"I... ah... Hm. Why don't you come over and see?"

She acceded and joined him as he pointed at the navigational charts, then guided her through a survey of the array of controls and instruments. She was tense when his other arm glided to landing on her far shoulder, awaiting and dreading the sound of his seduction's voice, the feel of his arousal's touch, the smokiness of his hunger's eyes.

He possessed none of them. Instead, he simply hugged her and spoke with pride and love of all aspects to his yacht, the Kestrel Reign. What it had when he originally purchased it, what he added, what he wanted to still add to it. Paint, gloss, decking, furnishings. The outward sheen. Engine, stores, instrumentation, storage. The inner constructs. The function, not the form. The spirit, not the bottle. Both aspects he loved, on both he lavished attention and care. All of the Kestrel he knew. Every inch, every change, before and after. How it looked, how it felt, how it smelled, even.

It was his heart, and Sian realized he was sharing it all with her. Were she to deal this vessel a grievous harm, it would be mirrored onto Marc. She knew this, as sure as she stood there, his arm around her, his voice in her ear, his smile upon her face. She felt all this, but she didn't feel that bottomless lust from him. It was there, the passion, the longing. It was present, but not ruling him. She felt a peace in him, a contentment and sated warmness in him she only glimpsed at the last moments in their liaisons -- that single heartbeat just as she hurled herself into the abyss of her passion.

She felt all this. She knew all this. She envied the Kestrel. God save her, she wanted this. As he felt toward the Kestrel, the other 'she' in his life, Sian wanted him to feel that way toward her.

===

The Suburban sat motionless next to the roadster on the parking lot, both haloed by the golden electric light. Locke and Ressa sat on the front bench seat, both turned toward the other, arms over the seatback so they faced back. Behind them sat Callan and Ceili, each to one side, so as to leave the view unimpeded to and from Geravances and Lavender on the back seats.

"Well, the Garde will have a hard time finding someone as good at Veiling as you." Geravances offered a note of admiration in his voice.

"I'm quite sure. One of the benefits of learning from the best, you get very good at it. But that still doesn't help me if my name isn't clean. A certain manifestation of my Power tends to make many of the other Awakened already treat me as if I were Outcast."

Ceili kneaded the hem of her blouse. "Lamentine, I owe you an apology. I'm very sorry for what I said before. It was inexcusable."

Lavender laid her hand on the other woman's shoulder. "I forgive you, dear one. To want to have someone to blame when a loved one is gone is natural, understandable. To not, that would be of more a concern to me."

Callan noticed Lavender's pointed glance at him as she spoke, but a quick inventory showed him the only one who did. The look around completed, he did not return to meeting her gaze. Instead, he took opportunity to scan the sea again.

Ressa reached diagonally across to Ceili's other shoulder. "I'd have done the same thing had Locke been taken from me, dear. And I've not known him as long."

Locke laid his hand atop Ressa's. "I've known him longer than you have, Ceili. He's always been a good friend, an honourable person. I know you want to talk about him, to keep his memory alive. I will always welcome it."

They sat in silence for a bit. The warmth and understanding gave way to unease, then mild discomfort. In time, Geravances coughed quietly into his hand. "I've a new car to tend to. Callan, a doddering fool down off this leviathan?"

"I will once I find one. You may be old, but you're never a fool."

"Ha. Shows the little you know. We were all once fools. We hold within us the seeds of foolishness still. Never take wisdom for granted."

By this time, Callan had made the way ready, and Geravances had managed to climb to the door. He stepped down, and again, Callan's grasp saved him from an ignoble exit. "Lad. And the rest of you. You've all a tough time ahead of you. Including you, Lavender. Maybe especially you. The Garde, your good name." He turned to Callan and Ceili. "You both, worry about your missing Others. Yes, I know the term. I may be inner Circle, but I'm not as hidebound as the rest of them. Nor am I deaf." He pointed at Locke and Ressa. "And you two. Don't get complacent in your relationship. Complacency kills."

He turned before they had a chance to respond, opened the convertible's door, started the engine, and caused it glide off into the night.