The queen was still talking about “the younger factions,” by which I assumed she meant all the other types of supernatural beings that were not Alfar. I knew she didn’t mean young as in newborn, since basically everyone I’d met since I’d learned about this world had mentioned the fertility problem thing. At the same time, the Compound was very large and seemed relatively crowded. If there were other Compounds like this throughout the country and all over the world, then the supernatural population—especially considering their long lives—must be quite large.
“…coordinated tonight’s entertainment,” Morrigan was saying. “So it should be amusing. She’s very original.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I pursed my lips and gave a considered nod: my how een-teresting pose.
“My, um, lady?” I asked awkwardly, working up my nerve. “How many of you are there? Do you know?”
Morrigan frowned, and for a moment the air around us crackled with that signature of power I couldn’t quite get used to. But then her smooth features settled back into her usual bland expression.
“There are five Territories dividing what humans would call North and Central America. The rest of the world is divided up into similar proportions. Each Territory supports a variety of beings, all of whom are ruled by an Alfar monarchy, which leads from its own Compound. As for population, it depends on the location of the Territory as to how many and what sorts of beings it can support. Some areas are more populated than others and the variety of different factions differ from place to place. Succubae and incubi no longer fare very well in the Middle East, for example, and the ifrit don’t enjoy rain forests. But exact numbers are unknown, not least because our border lands—the areas between Territories—tend to be wild, uncontrolled places that resist Alfar intervention. We do know, however, that our numbers are most assuredly shrinking.”
Morrigan looked at me questioningly, as if to ascertain whether or not I was following her. I nodded, and she continued. “I’m sure you have heard that our birth rates are dropping.” I nodded again. “Procreation has never been easy for us—we cannot breed without intention.” Ryu had said the same thing, the first time we’d made love, and I’d never asked him for details, although I’d understood the gist. But I was more than a little intrigued when Morrigan explained. “We do not have natural cycles the way humans and other animals do. We do not produce an egg or sperm automatically; we have to consciously create the capacity for life within ourselves. It takes months of concentration and large amounts of energy. So it has always been a challenge, but one that could be met.” Here, Morrigan frowned, again. “In the last few hundred years, however, it has become increasingly difficult, at least when both partners are elemental. For some reason, our ability to procreate with humans has been less troubled, although that issue is, in itself, a contentious one.”
What the queen was saying was fascinating on a number of levels, and I had so many questions I wanted to ask. To my horror, however, my libido muscled its way to the front of the queue, demanding answers.
“So,” I heard myself say, “when someone, um, let’s say a baobhan sith, tells you that they can’t get you pregnant or give you any… umm, other gifts, they’re telling the truth?”
For a split second, Morrigan grinned, and it was the first really human response I’d seen from her. But a second later the grin was gone, and her face had settled back into her usual flat expression.
“Yes, child, all of what you have been told is true. Our elemental powers purge us of disease, and we are infertile unless we choose to be otherwise. And that choice is a difficult process to embark upon. So we are safe to breed with humans, even when they are half-breeds.”
Morrigan fell into an awkward silence, as if remembering to whom she was talking. I gave her a benign smile, to tell her that I wasn’t offended.
We’d emerged back into a main hallway of the Compound, and I was beginning to recognize things. I think the queen was taking me back to my rooms.
“But we are not like humans,” Morrigan continued, her smooth features radiating calm once more. “We do not throw teams of, what do you call them? Scientists?” I nodded. “We do not throw teams of scientists to vex nature and solve our problems. We are as long-lived as mountains, and we have faith that our problems will work themselves out. A few hundred years in the life of an Alfar is but a blink of an eye. Soon, we will wake up to a new dawn in which all of our concerns have resolved themselves.”
She smiled beatifically as I worked hard to keep my eyebrows from shaking follicles with my hair line. What is she talking about? I wondered. She acts like the Alfar are all that’s out there. What about the nahuals? Ryu said that Russ was old, at four-hundred-something years. He, for one, doesn’t have the lifespan of mountain ranges to wait around hoping for offspring.
Besides which, even if they do live forever, that just gives them more time to obsess. Look at what short-lived human couples are willing to do to have a baby. And while I get it that the Alfar aren’t exactly brimming with emotion, Ryu, for one, is passionate and Iris is definitely emotional. Even Morrigan betrayed a hint of feeling when she started talking about this subject, before she got all weird and Vulcan about it. Not everybody can be as cool with not having babies as the Alfar make out to be—if they really are themselves.
We’d walked the last few minutes in silence—I had no idea where to begin after what Morrigan had just told me, and she seemed content to be quiet. When we got to my door, she stopped to say good-bye.
“Take care, Jane,” she said, her eyes expressionless. “We will see you at tonight’s feast.”
I attempted another bow, this time with a bit more refinement. “Thank you, Queen, er, Lady,” I finished. I really gotta ask Ryu what to call these folks, I thought. My “royal etiquette” was really not up to snuff.
She smiled, unfazed by my discombobulation, and I slipped into our room.
I shook Ryu like a can of whipping cream but he was out like a light. So—after checking, double-checking, then triple-checking that both our outer door and our bedroom door were locked—I decided to take another shower. I felt gross after my encounter with Jimmu; his eyes had been like clammy hands all over my skin. I shed my swimsuit and started the water.
I had so much to think about that I barely knew where to start. First of all, my run-in with the queen had meant that I hadn’t really processed what had happened beside the pool. And there’d been no way I was going to tell her about it, considering Jimmu was the foster son of the guy who was both her brother-in-law and her own second-in-command. Despite the fact I knew damned well that even if Jimmu hadn’t actually been intending to kill me, he was definitely going to do something unpleasant. But who would believe me besides Ryu?
Jimmu really does hate you, my brain reminded me, unhelpfully. And I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen him before. But it was impossible—how many six-foot-tall men with blue Mohawks and steel tusks had I seen that I failed to notice one more? Unless he glamoured you, I thought, suddenly. But then why would I remember not remembering? My brain ached at that thought—going down that path was like watching one of those shows about time traveling where you knew if you concentrated on the plot for even a second it would rip to shreds. Let’s just say you would remember not remembering, and leave it at that, I thought, clinging to my sanity with an iron grip.
And what the hell is up with the Alfar? The other half of my brain interrupted. They are so powerful, but so complacent. There’s no way everybody else is fine with not procreating. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be so scared of halflings. You only hate what you secretly envy or desire, I thought, with a nod to freshman psych.
If they’re having problems procreating, why not do something about it? I get it that humans “vex” nature and what not—you don’t have to quote Bacon to make me realize we have some fundamental flaws as a species. But not to do anything, and especially when you have such power? I snorted, lathering up a wash cloth to scrub away all vestigial Jimmu eye-traces.
I get it that they cultivate this cool façade, but it’s gotta be pissing off members of their community. Who I bet wouldn’t mind if the Alfar invested their copious resources on some “teams of scientists” of their own.
Teams of scientists, I thought. Teams of scientists…
That’s it, I thought, as my wash cloth dropped with a splat.
Teams of scientists…
I turned off the water, calmly, although I was roiling on the inside.
I wasn’t crazy; I had seen Jimmu before. And now I remembered where.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, I thought at Ryu, trying to bore a hole in his forehead with my brain waves.
I’d tickled him, shaken him, scratched him, pinched him, thrown a glass of water on him, kissed him—I’d even flicked his testicles with a fair amount of force. He hadn’t budged.
So now I was lying with my face right above his, trying to wake him through the power of my focused will. I didn’t think it was working.
