the worst nuisance imaginable—some small group of people from outside, who happened upon certain information and chose to believe it. Books, computer disks. Who knows? Perhaps these secrets were even sold to them by servants….”
“Then we must seem like children to them,” said Yuri. “Like monks and nuns, computerizing all our records, our files, gathering old secrets into computer banks.”
“Who was the witch who fathered the Taltos? Who killed him?” demanded Ash suddenly. “You told me you’d tell me if I were to tell things to you. What more can I give you? I’ve been more than forthcoming. Who is this witch that can father a Taltos?”
“Michael Curry is his name,” said Yuri. “And they’ll probably try to kill him too.”
“No, that wouldn’t do for them, would it?” Ash said. “On the contrary, they will strive to strike the match again. The witch Rowan …”
“She can no longer bear,” said Yuri. “But there are others, a family of others, and there is one so powerful that even—”
Yuri’s head felt heavy. He raised his right hand and pressed it to his forehead, disappointed that his hand was so warm. Leaning forward made him feel sick. Slowly he eased back, trying not to pull or flick his shoulder, and then he closed his eyes. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his little wallet and opened it.
He slipped out of hiding the little school picture of Mona, very vividly colored; his darling with her smile, her even white teeth, her heap of coarse and beautiful red hair. Childwitch, beloved witch, but witch without question.
Yuri wiped his eyes again, and his lips. His hand was trembling so badly that Mona’s lovely face was out of focus.
He saw the long, thin fingers of Ash touch the edges of the photograph. The Taltos was standing over him, one long arm behind him, braced against the back of the sofa, while with the other hand he steadied the picture and studied it in silence.
“From the same line as the Mother?” said Ash softly.
Suddenly Yuri pulled in the photograph and crushed it flat to his chest. He pitched forward, sick again, the pain in his shoulder immediately paralyzing him.
Ash politely withdrew and went to the mantel. The fire had gone down somewhat. Ash stood with his hands on the mantel shelf. His back was very straight, his bearing almost military, his full dark hair curling against his collar, completely covering his neck. From this vantage point, Yuri could see no white in his hair, only the deep dark locks, brownish black.
“So they’ll try to get her,” said Ash, with his back turned still, raising his voice as needed. “Or they will try to get her or some other witch in this family.”
“Yes,” said Yuri. He was dazed, yet maddened. How could he have thought that he did not love her? How could she have been so distant from him so suddenly? “They’ll try to get her. Oh, my God, but we’ve given them an advantage,” he said, only just realizing it, and realizing it completely. “Good God, we have played into their hands. Computers! Records! It’s just what happened with the Order!”
He stood up. The shoulder was throbbing. He didn’t care. He was still holding the picture, tight, under the cover of his palm, and pressed to the shirt.
“How so, played into their hands?” asked Ash, turning, the firelight flashing up on his face so that his eyes looked almost as green as Mona’s and his tie looked like a deep stain of blood.
“The genetic testing!” Yuri said. “The whole family is going through the testing, so as never to match again a witch to a witch that might make the Taltos. Don’t you see? There are records being compiled, genetic, genealogical, medical. It will be in these records who is a powerful witch and who is not. Dear God, they will know whom to single out. They’ll know better than the foolish Taltos! They’ll have a weapon in this knowledge he never had. Oh, he tried to mate with so many of them. He killed them. Each died without giving him what he wanted—the female child. But …”
“May I see the picture of the young red-haired witch again?” Ash asked timidly.
“No,” said Yuri. “You may not.”
The blood was throbbing in his face. He felt a wetness on his shoulder. He had torn the wound. He had a fever.