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The woman behind the desk was smiling up at Barinthus. She had a good smile and had turned it up to about 100 watts, but Barinthus was all business. I'd never seen him be other than business. He never teased or tested the limits of the geas that the queen had placed upon him. He seemed simply to accept.
The woman's hand brushed mine as I took my key. I had a vivid glimpse of what she was thinking: Barinthus lying on white sheets, with all that multihued hair spread around his naked body like a bed of silk.
My fist clenched at not just the image but the strength of her lust. I could feel her body clenched tight as my fist. She watched Barinthus with hungry eyes, and I spoke without thinking, using words to acknowledge and break the co
I leaned in close, and said, "The picture you have in your mind of him nude."
She started to protest, then let her words die, eyes large, licking her lower lip. She finally just nodded.
"You're not doing him justice."
Her eyes got even bigger, and she stared at Barinthus as he stood by the elevators.
I was still picking up her emotions. It happened sometimes, like picking up random bits of television or radio signal. But my bandwidth was narrow: lust images, mostly. Random lust images, and only from humans- I'd never gotten a flash from any other fey. I never understood why. "Want me to ask him to take off his coat so you can see better?"
That made her blush, and the image she'd built up in her mind crumbled under her embarrassment. Her mind was just a series of jumbles now. I was freed from her thoughts, her emotions.
I'd been told by one of the old fertility gods at the Seelie Court that being able to see other people's lust images was a useful tool if you were seeking priests and priestesses for your temple. People with strong lust could be used in ceremonies, the sexual energy harnessed and magnified so that their lust could be imparted to others. It had once been assumed that lust equated fertility. Unfortunately, not.
If lust equaled reproduction, the fey would have populated the world by now, or so the old stories go. The desk clerk would be so disappointed to discover that Barinthus was celibate. If he'd been staying in the hotel, I might have warned him about her. She struck me as the type who just might surprise him in his room after hours. But Barinthus would be back at the mound by nightfall. No worries.
Jenkins was now standing by the elevators, leaning his back against the wall, smiling. He was trying to talk to Barinthus as Galen and I walked up to them. Barinthus was ignoring him as only a deity can: with a total disregard, as if Jenkins's voice was the buzzing of some unimportant insect. It was beyond disdain. It was as if, for Barinthus, the reporter truly did not exist.
This was an ability I lacked, and envied.
"Well, Meredith, fancy meeting you here." Jenkins managed to make his voice both cheerful and cruel.
I tried ignoring him as Barinthus was, but knew that if the elevator didn't come soon, I'd lose.
"Merry Gentry, couldn't you do better than that? The gentry has been a euphemism for the fey for centuries."
Maybe he was still guessing, but I didn't think so. I had an idea. I turned to him, smiling sweetly. "Do you really think I'd use such an obvious pseudonym if I cared a tinker's dam whether someone found out?"
Doubt crossed his face. He straightened, moving within touching distance of me. "You mean you don't care if I print your alias?"
"Barry, I don't care what you print, but I'd say you're less than two feet away from me." I looked at the lobby. "In fact I don't think there's anywhere in this lobby that is more than fifty feet away from me." I turned to Galen. "Can you please have the desk clerk call the police"-I looked at Jenkins-"and tell them I'm being harassed?"
"My pleasure," Galen said. He walked back toward the desk.
Barinthus and I stood there with my luggage.
Jenkins looked from me to Galen. "They won't do anything to me."
"We'll see, won't we?" I said.
Galen was speaking with the same desk clerk who had eyed Barinthus. Was she picturing Galen naked now? It was good to be across the lobby and out of accidental touching range. Maybe being able to sense people's lust at random intervals was useful for picking out priestesses for your temple, but since I didn't have a temple, it was just irritating.
Jenkins was staring at me. "I'm so glad you're home, Meredith, so very, very glad." The words were mild, but the tone was pure venom. His hatred of me was an almost touchable thing.
He and I watched the desk clerk use the phone. Two young men, one with a badge that said "Asst. Manager," the other with a badge that just said his name, walked very purposefully toward us.
"I think, Barry, that you're about to get your walking papers. Enjoy waiting for the police."
"No court order is going to keep me away from you, Meredith. My hands itch when I'm near a story. The bigger the story, the more they itch. I'm just about to scratch my skin off every time I'm near you, Meredith. Something big is coming and it revolves around you."
"Gee, Barry, when did you become a prophet?"
"One afternoon by a quiet country road," he said. He leaned in so close I could smell his aftershave under the odor of cigarettes. "I had what you might call an epiphany, and I've had the gift ever since."
The hotel men were almost upon us. Jenkins leaned in close enough that from a distance it must have looked like a kiss. He whispered, "Those that the gods would destroy they first make mad."
The men grabbed his arms and pulled him away from me. Jenkins didn't struggle. He went quietly.
Galen said, "They'll hold him in the manager's office until the police come. They won't arrest him, Merry, you know that."
"No, Missouri doesn't have stalker laws yet." I had an amusing idea. If I could get Jenkins to follow me out to California, the laws are different. There are very strict stalker laws in L. A. county. If Jenkins made too big a pest of himself, maybe I'd see if he'd follow me somewhere where he could get jail time for what he'd just done. He'd forced a kiss on me in public -or so I could claim -in front of impartial witnesses. Under the right set of laws, that made him a very bad boy.
The elevator doors opened. Great, now that I didn't need the rescue. The elevator doors closed, leaving us alone in a mirrored box. We all watched our own reflections, but Galen spoke.
"Jenkins never learns. You'd think after what you did to him, he'd be afraid of you."
I watched my reflection show surprise, eyes widening. By the time I recovered, it was too late.
"That was a guess," I said.
"But a good one," Galen said.
"What did you do to him, Meredith?" Barinthus said. "You know the rules."
"I know the rules," I said.
I started to step into the hallway, but Galen stopped me, a hand on my shoulder. "We're the bodyguards. Let one of us go first."
"Sorry, I've gotten out of the habit," I said.
Barinthus said, "Get back into the habit, quickly. I don't want you hurt because you didn't hide behind us. It's our job to take the risks and keep you safe." He pressed the "hold door open" button.
"I know that, Barinthus."
"And yet you would have stepped into the hall," he said.
Galen very cautiously peeked out of the elevator, then stepped into the hallway. "Clear." He
swept a low bow. The small braid spilled over his shoulder to touch the floor. I remembered when his hair spilled like a green waterfall to pool onto the floor. There was a part of me that thought that was what a man's hair should look like. Long enough to drag the floor. Long enough to cover my body in a silken sheet when we made love. I'd mourned when he cut it, but it hadn't been any of my business.