Now I watched him for a minute, sprawled on his back with his mouth open in a peculiarly vulnerable position, considered snuggling up with him again, and decided he needed rest. Tomorrow would be soon enough for cuddling and maybe more.
Mike Conti was in the office with Judy when I arrived, startling me. It wasn’t like their relationship was a secret, but they were both so discreet I’d never seen him on the premises except in the front room, waiting for an augury. “I didn’t expect to see you,” I said. “Malcolm said everyone at Campbell Security had a rough day yesterday.”
“I’m actually headed in to work again,” Mike said. “Following up on a couple of calls from yesterday.” He turned back to face Judy, who was scowling as she scanned the computer screen. “I still say you’re not safe here.”
“I’m done having this discussion,” Judy said. “Helena, I left the mail-in auguries on the front counter. Mike, shouldn’t you be at work?”
Mike’s lips thinned in disapproval. “Fine. You want to be that way, I won’t argue with you. See you later, Helena.” He strode to the back door and slammed it shut behind him.
“I…sorry I barged in on that,” I said.
Judy blew out her breath and shoved away from the desk. “He won’t listen,” she said. “I’m getting sick of his overprotectiveness.”
“I understand, but you know that’s how he is. Not overprotective—I mean that he cares about what happens to you, and he shows that care by trying to protect you.”
“I know, but he’s taking it too far. He knows this place is safe, and he ought to honor my wishes.” Judy ran her hands through her short black hair, disordering it. “I just—”
“Just what?” I asked when she didn’t finish her sentence immediately.
“I just wish he actually wanted me to move in. Not so he can protect me, but because it’s what he wants.” She sighed. “It’s irrational, I know, because I haven’t told him how I feel, and it’s not fair to him to expect him to read my mind. But if I tell him I want to move in with him, he’ll go for it even if it’s not what he wants—does that make sense? Because I think I’m babbling.”
“It makes sense. You decided you want to live with him?”
“Yeah. I get so cranky on the nights he doesn’t come over because I really miss him. I want him around so I can be cranky over his disgusting habits instead.” Judy laughed. “He’s not at all who I thought I’d end up with.”
“Really?” I perched on the desk. “Who did you think you’d end up with?”
“Oh…someone tall and lanky. Someone into fine dining and art. Probably a Nicollien, given how they’re always in and out of Father’s house. Not a short, stocky Ambrosite whose idea of a fun evening is a sports bar or an MST3K movie.” She laughed again. “I never knew I’d end up liking those things too.”
I didn’t know what MST3K was and didn’t feel like derailing the conversation to ask. “But you went to that art show three weeks ago.”
“Yeah, well, it turns out he likes art, too, and didn’t know it. We’ve both changed.”
“So tell him that, and see what he says. Maybe there’s something else going on behind his desire to protect you.”
Judy shrugged. “Could be. We have to get past this latest fight first. I’ll call him later when we’ve both cooled down.”
“Fair enough,” I said, and headed for the front room.
When the Nicolliens filed in at ten, I’d already done most of the mail-in auguries and was feeling cheerful. One look at my customers dispelled that cheer. I’d never seen a more despondent group. “What’s wrong?” I asked the first woman in line. “Not more attacks I haven’t heard about?”
“It’s trying to fight without our familiars,” the woman said. “You won’t understand because you’re not a front line fighter. No offense,” she added quickly, and sounded sincere. “It’s just not something I can explain to anyone who’s never been bonded to a familiar. You feel like you lose senses you didn’t know you had.”
“I get it.” I accepted her augury slip. “I’m sorry.”
The woman smiled mirthlessly. “You hated them, I know. I doubt you’re all that sorry.”
“Not that they’re gone, no. But I know how close you all were to your familiars, and I’m sorry for that loss. I didn’t rejoice over their deaths.”
“Not the way the Ambrosites did,” came a bitter voice from the middle of the line. “They gloated.”
“Not in here, they didn’t,” I said. “And no more bad-mouthing Ambrosites unless you want me to kick you out.”
The man went silent.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, and made my escape.
The oracle hadn’t paid me any attention all morning, but now the pressure of its regard followed me through the stacks to the woman’s augury. “Is this one important?” I asked. “Or is something else going on?”
The oracle said nothing, just continued to watch me. I’d come to realize that this meant something important was about to happen, something that interested the oracle. “All right, but you have to speak if you want me to understand,” I said. “Though your speaking isn’t a guarantee of me understanding, I guess.” I gathered up the woman’s augury and navigated the little passageways to the store’s front.
“Here—” I began, then was startled into silence. Someone else had entered while I was in the oracle, someone I was never happy to see. William Rasmussen, Nicollien leader for the Pacific Northwest, stood in an empty space near the door as if he were a magnet with an opposing pole pushing all the other people away. He looked like a professor of some obscure academic discipline with his plain dark suit and glasses, but his cold blue eyes revealed that he was a man with power who wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Mr. Rasmussen,” I said. “Welcome to Abernathy’s.”
“I have an augury request,” he said. He nodded at Judy as if she were a colleague instead of his only child and extended a folded piece of paper to me. I bit back a protest that he should wait his turn—I knew from experience the Nicolliens always deferred to him—and without responding went back into the oracle.
This time, the oracle’s attention was almost painful. “What is it?” I demanded. “If there’s something you want me to know—”
They come. Union and division. Last chance.
“I don’t understand.” I unfolded Rasmussen’s augury request. How do we make up for the loss of the familiars? Despite my dislike for Rasmussen, I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. When Malcolm had lost his magic, he and his team had struggled so hard to accommodate his changed abilities. Learning to fight without familiars had to be similar.
He chooses. Tip the balance. The oracle’s attention vanished.
That had been even less comprehensible than usual. Did it mean the choice, whatever it was, would tip the balance, or was it an instruction to me to do so? Since I had no idea what the choice was or what balance had to be tipped, I had to muddle through and hope things would become clear.