Despite her misgivings, Reg’s stomach rumbled when the waiter set her dinner plate in front of her. She inhaled the fragrant steam and sighed. “This is the best. I don’t think I could ever be vegetarian.”
Corvin eyed her. She knew what he was thinking, but he kept the comment to himself. She didn’t need him to remind her that she was confirming what he had told her before. That it was in his nature to consume the powers of others just as much as it was in her nature to eat the fish that was on the plate in front of her. Changing that about him would have been trying to change what he was. And no one could change what he was. It was built into his genetic code. If genes were how magical nature was passed from father to son.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, each appreciating their meals. Corvin took a drink.
“So what did you learn from Harrison? Did he tell you anything, or was it all just more questions?”
Reg sighed. “He answered some things. But they were things I didn’t want to know. The things that I want to understand, he doesn’t answer or says he doesn’t know, which is stupid, because he’s supposed to be all-knowing and all-powerful, isn’t he?”
Corvin cut a neat bite out of his scallops. “I think you’re confusing immortals with the Christian god. The Greeks and other cultures with a pantheon of gods never claimed that they were all-knowing or all-powerful. Sometimes they were remarkably short-sighted. They just claimed that they couldn’t be killed, or if they could, it was only temporary.”
“So Harrison doesn’t know everything.”
“Obviously not.”
“Just like the Witch Doctor didn’t know where to find Weston.”
Corvin looked up at that. He laid down his fork for a moment. “And who, may I ask, is Weston?”
“You don’t know him?”
“How would I know him?”
“I thought if there were stories about all of these immortals, you would already know who he was. There aren’t any stories about him?”
“I don’t know. They are often known by many different names. They might have different names and different roles in one culture. And then when you add in multiple cultures, there are even more. I would have to know more about his nature and the things he has done. Then I might be able to figure out his other names.”
“I don’t know much about him. I know that he’s… not exactly hiding from the Witch Doctor, but hidden. He broke the rules and so he was bound. Or bound himself. Somehow there was a consequence, and he was hidden from the others.”
“Who wanted to do what to him?”
“He and Harrison are friends, I think. But the Witch Doctor is an enemy, and he hoped to destroy Weston while he was still… in hibernation or whatever kind of state he was in. But the Witch Doctor couldn’t find him, and Weston didn’t manage to get out of this prison he’s in. Harrison and the Witch Doctor thought that he would be near Norma Jean so that she could let him out. But he wasn’t. Or if he was, they couldn’t find him. That’s why… the Witch Doctor killed her. Or why he tortured her, anyway. I think he killed her just because he could.”
Corvin nodded, scratching his whiskered chin. “That’s all very interesting… so he’s been banished or bound… but they expected him to build a back door, or to be able to escape from it by now. Maybe years ago.”
Reg nodded.
“And why were you and Harrison talking about Weston? Why didn’t you want to know about him? Or was it just unimportant information and you wanted something that affected you.”
Reg looked down at her plate and toyed with the next bite of fish, wondering how much she wanted to reveal to Corvin. If he knew enough, he might be willing to help and might have some relevant information. But she didn’t like to share anything about her personal life, and particularly about the immortal who now appeared to be her father.
“It seems like his fate is tied up with mine,” she hedged.
That wasn’t a lie. And if he thought about it, then it was apparent that Weston’s existence had affected Reg and the course of her life. Things would have been very different for her if she had grown up with her biological mother.
“And… what? Do you need to find him? Do you have a mission? Harrison thinks that when Weston comes back, it will affect you somehow?”
“I don’t know. So… can I change the topic? I don’t know much more about Weston, but I had another question.”
“Okay… what is it?”
Reg furrowed her brow, thinking about what she wanted and what he might know. “I have questions about cats. Particularly about Starlight.”
“I don’t know anything about cats.”
“Of course you do. You know about everything. At least some things about everything.”
He smiled tolerantly. “You think that buttering me up will get me to answer your questions?”
“Of course. You have a big ego. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
“Wanna bet?”
Reg looked at him, waiting. She didn’t look away. Eventually, he broke.
“What exactly do you want to know about cats, and Starlight in particular?”
“You said once that maybe Starlight was a reincarnate. That he had been a human in a previous life.”
“I don’t remember that. I was probably joking.”
“Does that mean that cats can’t be reincarnated humans?”
“No. Of course he could be.”
“How would we be able to tell?”
“Sometimes there are clues in a person’s or animal’s behavior as to who they were in a previous life. If that soul was very strong.”
“I’m pretty sure that Starlight was someone Harrison used to know in a past life.”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility. As an immortal, Harrison has likely been around for a very long time.”
Reg’s brain jumped ahead and she discarded her planned question to address that. “How long have immortals been around? Are there… new immortals and old ones? Where do new ones come from?”
“I don’t claim to know much about immortal physiology or reproduction. I imagine they are created in much the same way as humans.”
“I don’t think so. Harrison was pretty ambiguous about… conception.”
Corvin’s eyes twinkled. “You brought it up with him?”
“In Greek mythology, the gods weren’t all conceived and born like humans, were they? Didn’t Athena… spring full-grown from Zeus’s head?”
“Yes. And there were also cases of demigods or creatures being born from the sea or other non-human, non-god parents,” Corvin admitted.
“So maybe it isn’t exactly like with humans. Maybe they can create offspring as they like. Or through various means.”
“Maybe.”
“So their progeny might not have their DNA. Or their powers.”
“I thought we were talking about cats.”
“We—oh yeah. I got sidetracked.” Reg shook her head. If she pursued the subject of children of the immortals, Corvin was bound to start wondering why. “So… cats as reincarnated humans. Do you think Starlight really could have been a human in a previous life?”
“Sure he could. But why does it matter? In this life, he’s a cat.”
“Harrison said that he was a very ancient, wise soul.”
“Great. So you have a very ancient, wise soul in the body of a cat. He still acts like a cat. He still is a cat. What has changed?”
“Well… I don’t know. Do you think he could be Weston?”
“Immortals don’t die, let alone get reincarnated as cats.”
“But if the Witch Doctor could be turned into nine kittens, then why couldn’t Weston be a cat too?”
“Well, that’s not precisely what happened. The Witch Doctor’s power and presence was sent into the draugr kattakyns, and so—”
“So now he’s nine kittens,” Reg said flatly.
“Well, okay. Now he’s nine kittens.”
“So why couldn’t Weston be one cat? Maybe someone turned him into a cat. Maybe he turned himself into a cat or put his soul into a cat.”
“What makes you think that Weston is Starlight?”
“Well… the way that he responded to me at the animal shelter, when he didn’t respond to anyone else. He picked me out more than I picked him. Maybe that’s because I’m his… our fates are intertwined. Maybe he somehow planned this, that I would meet him in his next life as a cat, and then… I don’t know. I have no idea what would happen next.”
“You would pet him and feed him and change his litter box for him.”
Reg wrinkled her nose. “Corvin!”
“He’s a cat. Like I said, if he is Weston, then what changes?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he… can communicate with me. Tell me about what happened in his past life. Why he did what he did.”
“Which was…?”
Reg wasn’t about to reveal any of that. “Break the rules. Become bound. And then… I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask him.”
“Right.” Corvin took a few more bites of his meal. “This is quite a metaphysical discussion for the Port of Call.”
“Would it be better somewhere else?”
“At your cottage,” he said promptly. “You could even involve Starlight in the conversation if you like. You could take him home a piece of fish and tell him that you wouldn’t give it to him until he told you all about his previous life.”
“How would he tell me?”
“I assume… telepathically. Since he can’t hold a pencil or speak.”
“But he doesn’t communicate telepathically. I mean, he communicates psychically sometimes, but not in words and sentences. Just in… feelings… nudges.”
“Then how do you expect him to tell you about his previous life, whether it was as Weston or someone else?”
Reg sighed. “I don’t know. It was just an idea.”
“Harrison is the one who can answer your questions, not Starlight.”
“And he won’t. Or he doesn’t. He pretends that he does, giving me some vague or impossible answer, and then smiles like he just gave me the wisdom of the ages. It’s frustrating.”
“Maybe you and I could put our heads together and come up with something. After all, I do have the powers of an immortal. Maybe I can… compel him.”
“I don’t think they can compel each other to do anything, do you?”
“No,” he admitted, “probably not. But it would still be fun to try.”
“By putting our heads together, do you mean putting all of my power into your head?”
“Now, there is an entrancing idea.”
“No. Forget it. I came out to dinner with you to keep you company, not to give you my powers.”
He motioned to the waiter for another drink. “Don’t you find it… cumbersome? Don’t those powers weigh down on you at times? It is a big responsibility, and using them takes so much energy out of you…”
His words were soothing and persuasive. Reg caught herself thinking about what it would be like to be a normal human without any psychic powers. How nice it would be to have her brain to herself and not have to worry about all of the other voices.
She pushed back against the idea, scowling at Corvin. “I know what it’s like to have them taken away, and it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel freeing or nice at all. It was horrible.”
For a brief moment, his brows pushed down and the corners of his mouth fell as if he too were remembering what it was like to be drained of powers and be left with nothing but hollowness inside. He quickly masked the expression and looked away from Reg. The waiter brought Corvin a refill and he sipped it, looking over at the bar to see how the ladies were faring.
Reg didn’t want to look, but felt compelled. She turned her head and saw that there was a sailor or fisherman with them, his movements drunk and sloppy, leaning on the bar and practically crawling into the siren’s lap. He was drooling slightly, his eyes wide and gaze fixed.
“Uh-oh,” Reg said.
“Looks like they’ve got one on the hook,” Corvin observed. He lifted his chin and caught the eye of the bartender farther down the bar. The bartender nodded that he was aware of the situation. Corvin looked back at Reg.
“I would normally want to linger over coffee. But I think we might want to leave before things get ugly.”
They had both made short work of their meals. And he was right; she didn’t like to rush out, but she also didn’t want to see what happened to the man or to the mermaid and siren. It wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Yeah. I think we should.”
“We can stop in for coffee or a drink somewhere else.”
Reg nodded her agreement. Corvin raised a hand to signal one of the waiters. Things were suddenly very busy, but the waiter came over, eyebrows raised.
“Your bill?” he suggested.
Corvin inclined his head. “Please.”
“Everybody wants to clear out of here all of a sudden,” the young man observed. He glanced over his shoulder toward the bar, sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Why don’t you call the police?” Reg demanded. “Say that they’re being disruptive or acting suspiciously.”
“I’m just a waiter, ma’am, I’m not in charge here.”
“Nothing the police could do,” Corvin advised. “They would come here, see a couple of lovely women, and probably kick the sailor out. They wouldn’t understand what is going on.”
“Why isn’t there a magical police force? This is ridiculous. Everybody knows what’s happening; why do they act like ostriches, sticking their heads in the sand?”
“You know, I don’t think ostriches actually do that.”
Reg glowered at him.
The waiter tapped their order into a hand-held credit card terminal and handed it to Corvin. He glanced at it, punched a few buttons and, in a moment, the waiter was handing him a receipt. They got up and made their way toward the door, along with several other couples who were looking pale and anxious.
“There is no magical police force because it would never work,” Corvin explained, as they hit the cool night air and walked toward the car. “It’s been tried in several different forms. Humans are the most interested in such things, but you can’t have a group of humans administering justice for a dozen different races. It doesn’t work. What you end up with isn’t just racial prejudice, but war. We have treaties that are supposed to give each race the autonomy they need to follow their cultural norms and physical needs. Allow us to live side-by-side without interfering with each other’s rights and freedoms any more than necessary.”
“And that includes letting a sailor be dragged out of a restaurant by a mermaid and a siren? To be killed and eaten?”
“No. I told you, they will take action once the ladies reach that point. They’ll do their best to see to the safety of that man. But until they attempt to take him, they haven’t done anything wrong.”
Reg got into the car when he opened the door for her. She sat with her lips pressed tightly shut, not saying all of the things that she wanted to. They needed to overhaul their entire system. How could there not be a way to stop the mermaid and the siren from doing what they were?
“Look,” Corvin said after he got in and started the engine. “Even if all of the parties involved were human, what would you suggest doing? The police can’t arrest someone they think is a serial killer without some evidence. They can’t just take a call from a little old lady who thinks that her neighbor is up to no good and go out and arrest him. They can investigate, but they need evidence of wrongdoing before they can take any action. You can’t arrest someone because you think they looked at a child the wrong way. You need to wait until he takes some action to kidnap or harm the child. You can’t arrest someone you think is going to drink too much and get into their car until they actually get behind the wheel. We can’t do anything about the mermaid and the siren until they do something that crosses the boundaries. And those boundaries have become very strictly defined over the past centuries.”
“People take matters into their own hands all the time. Vigilantes. Cops who think they know better. Why isn’t there anyone in there who dares to do what is right?”
“They are doing what is right. None of us like it, but you can’t do anything about what people are thinking. You can’t just start killing every mermaid who shows up in a bar, or go out hunting and killing every mermaid within a hundred-mile radius to ensure that they don’t encroach on the land. Those things have been done in the past, and it doesn’t make us safer. It just increases the violence between our societies. More people will get killed in a war with the mermaids than are killed by their hunting.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I didn’t see you walking up to them and challenging them to a battle.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean… telling them to leave. You can tell someone to move on. Homeless people get kicked out of stores and restaurants all the time. Owners have the right to refuse them service.”
“And do you think that a mermaid is just going to agree to leave? They are a bloody race, Reg. A bloody, violent race. Don’t get caught up by all of the Disney sweetness. They make movies about cuddly lions and bears, too. Does that make them good pets for your children?”