Starchild Read online

  Lewis was grinning at me. “I’d no idea I’d bred a frustrated poet! Let’s leave aside the metaphysics and go on to something concrete. Telekinesis.”

  “You don’t have to do anything to make TK work, but I find that most people tend to point at what they want to move, perhaps to focus on it.” I lifted my left hand and made the brandy bottle dance through the air, swooping it in my direction and pouring a splash into my glass before sending it back to its place.

  He laughed, a touch nervously. “Christ, Anna, it’s all very well to talk about psi, but when you actually see it... Now I understand why EI forbids its open use. How large does an object have to be before you can’t move it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tested myself to exhaustion.” I was warming to the game now, pleased that my parlour trick had amused him. I levitated out of my seat, negotiated a neat back flip just short of the ceiling and landed again, accompanied by his delighted laughter. “Usually I confine myself to tripping locks or knocking aside arrows.”

  He tilted his head on one side. “Arrows?”

  “Don’t ask! Let’s finish the list—number four is teleportation, probably the most useful in an espionage situation. Gets you in places you aren’t meant to go and out of places you don’t want to stay, not to mention saving your skin on numerous occasions.”

  “Do I get a demonstration?”

  “Take it from me, you don’t want one. Jumping from here to there is fine if you’re used to it and makes you nauseous if you’re not.” I took a sip of the brandy, more to moisten my tongue than for its sense-damping effects. “That’s covered all of the big league skills. Apart from them there’s only the intuition and the illusion-creating.”

  “Illusions?”

  “Like this face.” I let go of the freckles, red hair and grey eyes, the trappings that went with my cover identity, Rhiannon Lane, returning to my native blonde.

  Lewis gaped at me. “I thought that was a wig and make-up.”

  “Only if I need to fool a camera. This way’s easier.” I ran through a string of changes, snapping my fingers at each turn. My hair colour danced to order through black, brown, yellow and grey, each with eyes and skin tone to match, before going back to my present disguise. “I don’t need anything to base them on either. I can call them out of thin air.”

  A sleek black cat appeared from behind my chair and stalked across the rug, sparing a disdainful look for each of us before it vanished in the hearth in an puff of green smoke. Lewis laughed and I painted another phantasm, a sparrowhawk that spiralled down from the ceiling to land on my father’s wrist. I gave it weight and substance, making its scaled claws warm where they rested against his skin.

  “Almost real!” He scratched at the speckled breast, finding the sham of feathers under his fingers. The hawk glared with fierce eyes and snapped its beak at him before folding itself out of reality. “Damn close! If I didn’t know it was pretend—”

  I’m not sure whether it was pure mischief or cruelty that made me do it—I crafted an image of my mother in the empty chair. I felt Zenni’s misgivings as the shadow took shape; a tiny, thin woman with skin as clear as porcelain, ash-blonde hair cut into a short bob, blue eyes very like my own but with a bigger helping of grey, and what I remembered best about her, slim, delicate hands that might have been carved by an angel as no mortal artist could ever have the skill to copy them. When I was done Jeanne sat there, with a slight smile about her lips, an image as still as a statue, an icon.

  “You don’t remember her very well,” Lewis said, after a while. “You were very young and she died so long ago. Please send the phantom away.”

  I dismissed the illusion. “I’m sorry.”

  My father was silent for the space of a minute, his head bowed. When he lifted it, his eyes were full and shiny. “As a favour to me, Anna, would you please wear your own face?”

  “Certainly.” I dispelled Rhiannon and tried for a winning smile. “I’m really sorry. Am I forgiven?”

  “When you were a child you could wind me around your little finger with that tone of voice.” Lewis sighed. “And it still works, even now I know better. Where were we?”

  “Intuition,” I prompted.

  “How good are you at foreseeing the future?”

  “Lousy, most of the time, but now and again it comes through clear, sharp and accurate. I’ve learnt to pick out the true precognition from the everyday dross.” I decided it was time to uncover whatever he was concealing from me. “It wasn’t a hunch that brought me back tonight, Lewis. I was utterly convinced that you were in danger.”

  “You weren’t wrong.” His smile was twisted. “Your intuition was a little misplaced perhaps, but not exactly wrong.”

  I waited for more and in vain. “Care to give me the bald facts?”

  “Cancer. Primary brain tumour, bone secondaries—a surprise malignancy, not predicted by my natal gene-map.” Lewis paused to observe my reactions. “Why, Anna, you do surprise me! Where’s all the disbelief and denial? What happened to the tears, the tearing of hair and rending of garments, all of your usual theatrical histrionics? I didn’t expect you to accept it without question.”

  “Given the date, this ought to be a joke—a very bad one. It isn’t, although I wish I could disbelieve you,” I said slowly, waiting for Zenni to chip in with a helping of medical expertise and bothered by his silence. “I can see that it’s true.”

  Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Can you ‘see’ the tumour?”

  “There’s an oddness to your aura, a space of dark and cold—that’s only an approximation, a best fit of words. Our language isn’t built to stretch around the concepts that crop up in psionics.” I shook my head. “When did you find out about this?”

  “It was confirmed this afternoon. I’ve had all the requisite tests.”

  I could be direct too—it ran in the genes. “What are the medics planning to do?”

  “Their recommended course of treatment starts with removal of the primary, then a smattering of radiation and a bucketful of chemotherapy to establish a remission. After that, there’s extensive surgery to replace the rotted bone with metal, but then you know all about that.” He detailed the list of tortures dispassionately, as if it held no meaning for him.

  I think he’s in shock. Zenni whispered.

  You don’t know my father. Aloud, I asked the obvious question. “When do you start the treatment?”

  Lewis sighed. “I don’t. I refused it.”

  “You did what?”

  “Forget being angry with me, Anna—it won’t work. I didn’t finish telling you what the medics said. Even if I take all the therapy, there’s barely a ten percent probability of full recovery. The condition has progressed too far and the tumour’s too big. They can’t even guarantee that I’ll come through the initial surgery with all my senses, memory and personality intact. I’ve been a fighter all of my life, but I’m not so blind that I can’t see when it’s better to give in.”

  “Then you’ll die.”

  “Yes.” Lewis lowered his eyes. “I’ll admit that the very idea scares me shitless, although it doesn’t come close to the fear I feel when I consider the treatment. I’ve survived for nigh on seventy years and I’d dearly love to live out twenty more, but that isn’t to be. This time, for once in my life, I intend to give up gracefully. Perhaps the truth of it is that I’m too proud to submit to the manipulation of the medics. I never could bring myself to fully trust a doctor—”

  “You must have had some idea there was something wrong with you.” I accused, my fury coming to a head. “Maybe headaches, visual disturbances or blackouts—did you write them all off as trivial, pretend to yourself they meant nothing?”

  “I’d had some headaches, but they were very minor. There was some tiredness and some pain in my elbows and hips, yet not enough to send me running to the doctors.” Lewis admitted. “The problem was picked up on my annual health check and my physician was as amazed at the diagnosis as I was.
”

  “So you ignored all the warning signs, and didn’t get help until you were certain it was too late to cure?” His excuses did nothing to turn aside my anger. Zenni made an attempt to stop my outburst, but I shushed him and went on. “You don’t want to go on living, do you? That’s the truth of it, isn’t it? All this illness means to you is an easy, blameless way to commit suicide. Cancer robbed you of Jeanne, so why shouldn’t it reunite the pair of you?”

  “How can you be so cruel?” There were tears on my father’s cheeks.

  “Tell me it isn’t true.” I waited, knowing he wouldn’t answer. “You can’t, because it is.”

  “You tell me one thing first—you, with all your wonderful, artificial power—tell me this: is there anything inside a person that survives after death?”

  It was my turn to stare at the floor, while my anger boiled away. When I raised my head, Lewis was back in control again.

  “I’ve watched people die,” I said quietly. “When they do, something leaves them and I can’t touch their minds anymore. Perhaps it’s just a quirk of brain chemistry, the point when life’s batteries run down beyond the reach of telepathy, or perhaps it really is the soul, going through that open door into the next room. I’d like to believe in an afterlife, but I can’t offer you any definitive proof.”

  “Thank you for an honest answer, at least.” Lewis leaned back in the chair and although I saw the next question coming, I had to let him ask it. “How are you in the miracle cure department, Anna? Can your psi-power make me well?”

  On Lysseya an alien woman brought you back from the dead, Zenni reminded. She worked her magic on you. Could she cure your father’s cancer?

  She might, provided Lewis still has some will to live, but I don’t know where Thea is now, or even where to start looking for her. We seldom spoke of EI’s assassination attempt in the furnace-hot black desert, and of the enigmatic woman who had saved me. Even as I thought of seeking her out I knew that the quest would be futile; the certainty of failure rang through me like a dull gong. “I’m not a healer. First-aid is my limit and I’m only mediocre at that. I wish I had another answer for you, but that’s the bottom line.”

  He shrugged, his disappointment interwoven with relief. “It was a hope, albeit a slim one. You understand that I had to ask?”

  “Does Tom know about this?”

  “No. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that, and I’m not sure I should.”

  “He keeps secrets from me.” Lewis smiled mirthlessly. “I know that much, and I respect him enough not to probe too closely. Don’t worry—I think he has a few suspicions concerning my state of health and he won’t lay a full inquisition on you if you pretend ignorance.”

  “I can’t promise to conceal your illness.” The conflict of interest sat uneasily on my shoulders. “If Tom asks me about you, how can I lie to him?”

  “Forget I asked. It wasn’t fair of me.”

  I nodded my thanks and broached the next thorny question. “Without the treatment, how much time do you have?”

  “That was the very question I asked, but when do you ever get a straight answer from a doctor? Their best-guess was less than a year, a lifespan measured out in months. Whatever I’m granted, it will have to be enough.”

  “You seem to be coping remarkably well, given such devastating news.” That one wasn’t all my idea—I gave in to Zenni’s prompting.

  “This is just hysteria, a thin veneer over panic. It’ll take a day or two before the real horror sinks in.”

  “I think you’re being very brave.”

  “Thank you,” he said gravely. “Coming from you, that’s quite a compliment, and I’m sure I don’t deserve it. Courage is the province of the young and beyond the reach of tired, old men. Look at you, a third of my age, and you’ve been close enough to Death to spit in his eye—what is it, twice now?”

  “Three times. One aircar crash, one missile attack and a complicated trap that came damn near to finishing me.”

  “And you continue to work for EI after all that? Aren’t you afraid your luck will run out?”

  “Sometimes. We try to work out every twist of probability and plan around the chaos, but ultimately there comes a point when you have to go for it and pray that fortune doesn’t foul you up.” I thought of the triple suns of Lysseya and my blood spilt in the burning desert. “One day it may be my fate to die on some godforsaken world, doing Earth’s dirty work, but until then, there’s no point in worrying about it.”

  “If you feel that way about EI, why did you join them?”

  “Do you know of another way to keep a Zenith? Joining forces was one of the conditions of my agreement with Chandre.” I omitted the fact that murder had been the other part of that diabolical bargain, and parried any further questions by throwing the conversation into a curve. “Do Stuart and my step-mother know about your illness?”

  “You’re the first. I’m not looking forward to breaking the news to your step-brother and as for Caitlin, I’d rather she were kept in ignorance.” His eyes clouded over and I shared the hot-fat sizzle of his anger. “I lied to you when I said that she was in Europe again; she moved out three months ago and in with a younger man. The divorce becomes final in about a week.”

  I shook my head, lost in the maze of secrets. “Sorry, Lewis. I don’t seem to have been paying attention to my own family life. Did I turn over two pages in the script?”

  “It wasn’t significant enough to bother you with,” he said, with a cruel smile meant for the absent Caitlin. “I’ll have my revenge—she’ll be as mad as hell when she hears about my death, and she’ll curse herself soundly for leaving before I made her a rich widow. I will leave her something, of course, a crumb or two, but nothing like the share she would have got her hands on as my wife.” Lewis paused, looking about the mellow walls and I sensed melancholy within him, a bitter-sweet nostalgia for this house, the place he had bought as a ruin and shaped into a much-loved home. “I’ve already decided how to portion out my estate, giving the pieces to the people who can use them best. Caitlin will get some of the money, but not much—oh, and that ugly art-deco vase Jansen gave us for our anniversary a year or so back. Stuart can have the beach-house—he lives there most of the time anyhow—and a trust fund to give him an adequate income for life, if he curbs the more extravagant excesses of his lifestyle, and as for you, Anna—”

  “Wait a minute—you can’t bequeath anything to the dead.” I cut in. “Rhiannon Lane may be numbered amongst the living, but your daughter isn’t.”

  “I see.” Lewis considered this briefly. “Then we’ll have to resurrect you. It shouldn’t be much of a problem, simply a matter of a full genescan and a whiff of legal wizardry. I plan to leave you all of Jeanne’s jewellery. You have her colouring and it should suit you, especially the sapphires, I think.”

  “Thank you. That’s quite a gift.”

  “There’s more to come.” He fixed me with the famous blue-steel glare. “This house will be yours. I know I can trust you not to throw Tom out on the street, and you’ll get the balance of the estate. I’m also leaving you my share of the Corporation, which will give you automatic control of the Board.”

  “Why me? Why not Stuart?”

  “He’s a good lad—turned out far better than I’d hoped—but for all his surface recklessness, his thinking is stuffy and conventional. If you’d asked me that question three years ago, I’d have preferred him to you.” Lewis grimaced. “You were utterly self-centred, flighty and empty-headed. If you don’t mind me being honest, Anna, I used to despise you as a stupid, selfish little bitch!”

  I grinned at him, not insulted in the least. “Then, that was fair comment.”

  “It took the accident to remind me that I only had one daughter, Jeanne’s only child, and that she’d been precious to me once.” His gaze drifted back to the past and a faraway smile misted his eyes. “You’re so different now, full of tremendous strength
, bright vitality and so much hard-headed courage that I envy you. Add to that your empathy and knowledge of EI’s involvement with our operations, I couldn’t put the leadership in better hands. Stuart would do a fair job if I laid it in his lap, but he’s ordinary and average. You’re special and you’ll take Delany far.”

  “It won’t be easy, convincing everyone I’m the long-lost Anna-Marie.” It wouldn’t make my life at EI any easier either, but I didn’t voice that worry.

  “You’ll have my full backing.” Lewis assured. “Think about it, wouldn’t it give you power over your masters to hold the vote of the Board?”

  It would give us a considerable amount of leverage, Zenni said, with a sharp sliver of unpleasant delight. We could make Collins’ life miserable.

  I laughed. “Lewis Liam Delany, you are the cleverest and most cunning man I’ve ever known!”

  “That’s exactly what your mother used to say. As I recall, my reply was that I ignored all compliments, except those from beautiful women. I see no reason to change that position, even if that woman is my own daughter.”

  All the control in the world didn’t keep the blush from my cheeks. “What will you do if the lawyers can’t bring me back to life? Surely that would ruin all this complex scheming?”

  He rose and refilled our glasses before replying. “Not really. Every problem can be overcome with sufficient planning—you should know that. If you can’t inherit as my daughter, I’ll wait until the decree absolute and marry you. As my wife you can take over the estate and the Corporation unopposed.”

  For a moment I was struck speechless, then the perverted humour of the idea began to appeal to me. Zenni mimed applause at the back of my skull. “You old bastard! You’d do anything to make sure you got your own way, wouldn’t you?”