Indefinite Renewal Read online

  “So you didn’t get her pregnant deliberately?”

  Daniel shook his head, a mirror of Nick’s own action. “No, that was an accident. But once it happened I knew you’d probably be one of us—our genes tend to breed true from either parent though interestingly we’re only capable of having one child in a generation. Probably for the best, really—keeps any of us from trying to build an army of loyal Renewed children. Regardless, I returned here but kept an eye on you, watching you grow up, waiting until you were old enough.”

  “And then you dragged me into all this,” Nick accused, springing to his feet and pacing around the couch in an effort to work off the energy he found coursing through him. “Admit it—it wasn’t out of some fatherly pride that you did it, but an attempt to gain more power, to satisfy your need for control. You didn’t Awaken me to be your son, but to be your pawn, your underling, your lackey!” He almost added “your lunch,” but stopped himself in time—it wouldn’t do to reveal that he knew about that danger.

  “You Awakened me,” he continued, voice surprisingly even, “and then you sent Amy to me to test it, to see if it had worked.”

  “Now wait a second,” his father demanded, rising to his own feet. “I did Awaken you, yes, but then I heard footsteps and backed off to see what would happen. I had asked the girl for directions to Nichols Hall but I didn’t know she knew you, or that she would head upstairs at that time. I didn’t even know she would offer to show me the way.” His eyes met Nick’s. “You have to believe me on this, Nick. I had no idea it would be her, or that she meant anything to you. Even we can’t read minds.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Nick shook his head to clear it, breaking away from the other man’s gaze, but something in the back of his head was clicking into place. Something important. He wasn’t sure what, but he’d figure it out later. Daniel was still speaking.

  “. . . and as to using you, that’s not fair either. I did hope you would give me your support, but first and foremost I wanted to give you the full benefit of your birthright, to raise you to your full potential as a member of the Renewed. Now that you’re one of us, you do have to make some choices, take sides in the contests that occur, at least for a while.”

  “Oh?” Nick turned back to him. “Why? Michael is sitting it out, and so are a number of others.”

  “Yes, but they are all full members, and have enough status and respect to get away with it,” his father countered. “You are just a child, Nick—you don’t have enough experience to stand on your own yet. You lack the pool of talents, the financial strength, the social contacts, to make your own side. You have to stand with someone, to accept their protection, until you’re strong enough that you don’t need it.” He stepped closer and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I would of course like you at my side, Nick, but I’m asking you openly, not manipulating you into accepting—I want you with me, not as my lackey, but as my friend, my ally, my aide. As my son.”

  Nick looked at the hand resting on his shoulder, then at the face in front of him, inches from his own, and straightened up. “Why? So you can keep an eye on me while I grow, direct me along the path you choose for me”—and he unleashed his secret weapon—“and then absorb me yourself?” Daniel jerked back, and a hurt expression crossed his face, followed by one of concern, but Nick focused on his eyes and saw there another emotion, buried but present all the same—anger.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Nick,” his father replied softly—it was a mark of impressive self-control that he didn’t even ask where Nick had heard about that risk. “You have to trust me on that.”

  Nick shrugged and dislodged the hand on his shoulder, taking a smooth step backward. “You’ll understand if I stay out of arm’s reach though, won’t you?” He grinned slightly. “Just for my own peace of mind.”

  The anger flared again in Daniel’s eyes, a dull glint of rage, but it didn’t reach any further as he shrugged and returned to his seat. “Of course. I don’t want to push you into anything.”

  Nick remained standing. “Thanks—I appreciate that.” He turned and headed for the door, the edge of his last words still hanging in the air. “I’ve got to get back—I just wanted to let you know that you didn’t have to lie about our relationship anymore.”

  Daniel nodded. “Fine. What about my offer?” He sipped at his brandy, once again the picture of perfect composure. “Will you join with me?”

  The double meaning in that question struck Nick forcibly and he wondered if it had been deliberate, but his father’s face betrayed nothing.

  “I have to think about it,” he admitted, hand already on the doorknob, muscles already tightening to twist and pull and step out into air that lacked the imagined stench of machinations and Machiavellian plots. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Of course,” Daniel agreed, watching him go. “Take your time—I’ll be here.” The door cut off anything else he might have said, and Nick stood for a moment, breathing deeply, before he remembered to release the knob. Then he stepped to the stairs and absently headed down them, his mind already broiling.

  That had gone moderately well—at least he had surprised Daniel a few times, which had to be worth something. He still wasn’t sure whether Daniel—it was far too late to start calling him “Dad”—had been lying about Amy, although it had sounded true. Nick was more interested in what he had said after that, about his potential. Bits of old lectures and passages from psychology texts rose in his head, and slowly an idea formed. He was down the stairs and heading toward the front rooms before he even consciously realized he would need to talk to Michael.

  “Nicholas!”

  He turned at the call, and was half-surprised to see Marion standing in a doorway, waving to him. After only a second’s consideration, he slowed his pace and angled across to meet her.

  “Hello, Marion.” He wasn’t sure whether he should trust her or not—her information the other day had been too timely, and too dangerous, to be coincidental—but she was one of the only members to have shown any friendly interest in him, and he appreciated that. Besides, what man didn’t like spending time with a beautiful and intelligent woman? Today she was wearing a soft gray sweater and a pair of dark green slacks, and a green rose-shaped pin pulled her hair back from her face.

  “You look lovely,” he informed her, and the smile she returned was well worth the effort.

  “Why, thank you Nicholas,” she returned, flowing into a small curtsy. “That’s kind of you to say.” She straightened up and eyed him carefully. “Are you in a rush anywhere?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good.” She took his hand in hers, and he was amazed at the warmth of her skin. “Come and sit with me.” She led him back through the doorway, and he let himself be guided to a long couch and seated by her. There were expensive-looking paintings hanging on the wall, and a pot of tea sat on the low coffee table before them.

  “Would you like some?” Marion offered as she picked up her cup. “I could have them bring another cup.” But he shook his head, still not completely relaxed around her. “I didn’t expect to see you here again so soon.”

  That got a laugh out of him. “No, I guess not.” His eyes met hers over the rim of her cup, and his smile faded. “You knew about my father, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t respond for a second, then returned her cup to the table and nodded. “Yes. Actually, it’s hard not to—you do look a lot like him.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Nick grimaced. “I should have noticed it earlier myself, but I’m still trying to catch my balance here.”

  “I know.” Marion laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, but I thought you should know the whole truth and be prepared.”

  “Thanks.” They sat there for a moment without speaking, her hand on his arm, and Nick felt closer to her than he had to anyone else there.

  “So,” she finally volunteered, moving her hand back into her lap, “what have you been doing with yourself lately?”
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  “Not much,” he replied, relieved that they had returned to safer topics. “Just classes, work, dealing with all this. . . .” A thought emerged, and although it was risky the idea appealed to him. “I’ve been doing some reading, too,” he added offhandedly, “and some thinking.” He glanced at her. “What do you know about ESP?”

  Much to his surprise, she laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry,” she managed after a second. “It’s just that I hadn’t heard that one in a while.” She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and he allowed the familiarity, which he found oddly comforting. “I forget that you’re just a novice at this,” she murmured, and he felt for a moment that he had reawakened some maternal instinct in her.

  “What do you mean?”

  Marion shook her head and smiled. “One of the first things any of us think of is absorbing all sorts of abilities, like martial arts and such not, and then we always start thinking about the so-called psychic abilities.” She laughed again but her eyes were far away, and the sound had a hint of nostalgia to it. “I remember when I wondered about the same thing—was ESP real, and if so, how could I find it? Of course, it wasn’t called that then—no, it was witchery, black magic, a sign of the Devil!” She held her arms up in a menacing posture and bared her teeth, and Nick laughed with her.

  “So what happened?” He inquired, a faint hope kindling that she might give him a lead of some kind. But her answer disappointed him.

  “Nothing.” She smiled at him. “I must have spent the next hundred years searching for people with such powers, and watching each one to see if the stories were true. Do you know what I found?” Nick shook his head, and she sighed. “Nothing. Stage magic and con artists, idiot savants and people who were simply ahead of their time, but no real magic.” She laughed again, a little more bitterly, and caught up her teacup again. “I can read you your fortune, if you like, in the dregs of this cup—but it’ll be vague, and I’ve only been right about half the time.” Her fingertips idly caressed the cup’s smooth surface as she studied Nick.

  “We’ve all thought of it, so it’s only natural that you would, too—but none of us have found anything. Oh, Francisco has a way with animals, and Gregors can walk across hot coals without burning himself, and I can read tea leaves and sometimes Tarot cards—several of us have such gifts, but we’ve never found anything substantial, anything more than simple parlor tricks. Either people don’t really have such abilities, or they’re good enough to hide from us throughout the ages.” She smiled at him again. “I hope I haven’t completely discouraged you, though. By all means, look for yourself. Maybe you’ll get lucky and learn how to bend spoons or something.”

  Nick ignored the slight edge in her voice and returned her smile, his mind already turning things over. The phrase “people don’t really have them” stuck in his head, and he found himself wondering about that. What if no one did have them now? And his training answered for him—not all people have wisdom teeth or belly buttons, either. Some don’t even have fingerprints—that doesn’t mean the possibility isn’t there, only that it’s dormant. He stirred and returned his attention to Marion then, realizing he had been spacing for a moment.

  “Sorry.” He remembered her last words. “And no, you haven’t completely discouraged me—I’ll give it a shot.” He grinned and stood up. “If I don’t, I’ll never know whether I might have been the one to find something.”

  “Exactly,” she agreed, her eyes following him as he rose. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  “Yeah, sorry, but I wanted to say hi to Michael if he was here, and I can’t stay too late—I have a lot of reading to do for class tomorrow.” He bowed a little awkwardly. “I’ve enjoyed our talk, though, and I promise I’ll stay longer next time.”

  Marion smiled graciously, and gestured toward her teapot. “Fair enough. I’ll have a second cup ready.”

  “Sounds good.” He could feel her eyes upon him as he walked out, right up until he turned the corner. The time had been well spent, he felt, but he gotten everything he could from her for now. He did want to talk to Michael as well, and he suspected the older man could be hard to find at times. Nick hoped he hadn’t missed him, and increased his pace slightly.

  Fortunately Michael was sitting in the same seat as before, reading yet another book, this one a mammoth tome with black binding and age-yellowed pages. He glanced up as Nick approached, and smiled, setting the book aside and motioning him to the same seat as before. Nick nodded back and sat, feeling an odd sense of deja vu as he searched for the best way to ask what he had in mind without giving too much away.

  His new friend saved him the trouble. “I had a feeling you would be coming by today,” Michael remarked, reaching for a wineglass that sat half-full on the little table beside him.

  “Oh?” Nick leaned forward. “What, you mean like one of your famous predictions?”

  Michael smiled. “Ah, you figured it out, I see.”

  “It wasn’t that hard, once I thought about it.” Nick counted off points on his fingers. “You said you’d lived a full life, and even mentioned sixty-three years specifically. You commented that even you couldn’t ‘divine’ the truth about Lucien. You said you’d been famous in your mortal life. You were reading a book in French when I first met you. You mentioned poetry, suggesting that you had been a poet. And your name—Michael Church. The most famous prophet and seer in history’s real name was Michel de Nostredame, and the most famous Nostredame or Notre Dame is the cathedral in Paris—cathedral, or church. And he wrote all of his prophecies in verse.” He grinned. “How’d I do?”

  “Excellently,” the man once known as Nostradamus assured him. “A fine deduction, and speedily done. I am impressed.”

  Nick shrugged. “You laid out the clues—I just followed them.” He flashed back to what the older man had said as he’d sat down. “So did you really know I would be here today? Or were you just saying that?”

  “Oh, no, I did know,” the old prophet replied, chuckling. “I knew it would be today, though not precisely when, and it only occurred to me last night, not several decades ago like my more well-known prophecies.”

  “How does that work?” Nick asked, already fascinated—this was something he had absolutely no experience with. “I mean, is this something you could always do? Does it only happen occasionally? Do you need to eat something specific or sleep a certain way for it to work?” He stopped then, afraid he was asking too many questions, but Michael just laughed.

  “It is obvious you’re a scientist,” Michael pointed out, but he didn’t seem upset; his eyes glinted with humor, and his lips curved into a smile beneath his mustache. “So many questions! Well, let us see: no, I do nothing special, and yes, I have always had this gift, although it comes and goes. I do not see anything differently than you, nor do I hear strange voices. It is only that from time to time I get glimpses of what might occur, and I am right more often than most.”

  “What do you mean, ‘more often than most’? Are there others who see the future too?”

  “Of course,” the older man replied, fingers absently stroking the spine of his book. “Most people have precognitive dreams every once in a while—you have probably had one or two yourself, no?” He studied Nick intently. “Have you never had a dream about something, and then had it occur exactly that way? A grade on a test, the outcome of a ball game, the end of a fight, nothing like that?”

  Nick thought about it, and slowly old memories resurfaced. “Yeah, actually, I guess I have.” A smile crept across his face. “Once I dreamt about a conversation with a cute girl in my math class, and the next day it happened, down to the exact words.” He laughed. “I had asked her out, and I knew the night before that she’d turn me down, but I asked anyway.” He focused on his companion again. “So that’s the same thing?”

  “It is indeed,” Michael agreed. “Most people have the ability to glimpse the future, it is only that some can tap this gift
better than others. I have an unusually strong talent for it, is all. My dreams can see farther into the future, and can encompass more than just myself—even the whole world at times—but that is only a difference in scope. I have more quantity, and perhaps more quality as well, since mine come true more often.” He patted Nick’s knee jovially. “As you can see—I dreamt that you would come talk to me today, and here you are!”

  “Did you know what I would say?” Nick asked, a sudden chill running through him at the thought that perhaps he wasn’t being as subtle as he’d hoped.

  “No, just that you would be here,” his friend replied, and he relaxed a little. “And also that there would be a particularly good series of shots in Dumas’s pool game with Gregory this afternoon.” He pulled a pocket watch from a front pocket and examined it. “I hope that has not passed yet.”

  Nick tilted his head and listened—he thought he heard the sound of balls ricocheting off one another, and faint cursing, and smiled. “I think they’ve started already,” he commented, standing up and facing the older man. “Let’s take a look.”

  “Absolutely,” Michael agreed, rising to his feet with a smoothness that belied his gray hair, and placing his book in the empty seat. “I should not want to miss this.”

  The game was already in progress when they arrived, and they joined a few other spectators around the table; Nick nodded to Harcourt, standing on the other side of the room, and smiled at Marion, who paused her conversation with a short wiry man to return his smile and wave. Then he focused on the game. The two men he had seen playing the other day executed cushion shots and caroms, banks and jumps and three-ways, but Nick only half paid attention. His mind was playing a game of its own, lining the pieces up until they fell neatly into place, and he smiled as he saw where they led. It would take a lot of research, and a lot of work, but if his hunch was right it would definitely be worth it.

  Nick glanced around again, noticing that Daniel was nowhere to be seen, and then turned back to the game before him. Time enough for that later.