Chapter Thirteen
Rowan was surprised to find herself alone when she woke. She found Roger's note and wondered what was so important that he would be gone before 8 AM. She didn't remember his having any appointments scheduled. Well, no matter...he had his reasons.
Ro stretched luxuriously, then hugged Roger's pillow against herself. His scent lingered on its silken cover. She snuggled her cheek against it and smiled. He was so good to her. Finding love was the last thing she had ever expected. Whatever else the future held, she would always cherish this time. She sighed deeply.
Much as she would have preferred to stay in bed, she also had things to attend to in the city. The printer had finished the last small portion of an old text-book order, but was too short-handed to deliver it. Someone had to do it, and she was the only one available. It was time to get up.
Daestar bustled into the printing house, cheerily greeted everyone and loaded the packages into her car. As she drove off, the harried printer realized he had forgotten to tell her that a strange bearded man had been asking about her a few days earlier. He shrugged to himself. It probably wasn't important. He would tell her next time.
When Ro got to the school, she saw how busy everyone was. She decided to bring everything in herself. Her arms piled high with boxes, Rowan didn't see the female student stick her foot out in front of her. She tripped, but recovered fast enough not to fall or drop anything.
Startled, Ro turned and faced the young woman. "Is there a problem?" asked Rowan cooly, wondering what this was all about. She didn't recall seeing the mousy student before...they seemed to be about the same age. The other woman apologised, saying she didn't see her, but she glared defiantly at Ro with hot blue eyes and had the merest trace of a smile on her face.
Daestar stood there for a moment, studying the drab figure before her. She was well aware that she had been deliberately tripped, byt why? She was positive they had never met before. The woman's name tag read "Angie." The name was not familiar.
There was something troubling about this person, an undercurrent of anger and sadness and carnality hidden beneath the dowdy facade. Ro could see hints of the voluptous body beneath the ill-fitting clothes, noticed the delicate features under the mess of dirty blonde hair. She knew how hard it was to be poor and female; to be pretty as well could could be as much curse as blessing.
Daestar decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She would drop the incident, only commenting, "You might want to be a little more careful." She readjusted her hold on the boxes, turned, and continued down the aisle.
Angie's smile spread as watched the tall black-haired woman walk away from her. The wealthy fool doesn't have a clue, she thought to herself. If she's not willing fight for what she has, then she doesn't deserve it.
Angie busied herself on the periphery of a shorthand class, sneaking glances at Daestar as she conferred with Berg and some of the other department heads. I ought to thank her, Angie snickered to herself, for opening up my eyes.
Blessed with a sharp mind and a quick intelligence, Angie had no trouble following the teacher and daydreaming at the same time.
She mused about why she had started taking classes months ago. Angie had learned of the place's existance through rumor and word-of-mouth. Like so many others, she came out of curiosity and stayed when she realized it was a genuine chance to improve her life. It certainly couldn't be worse thaan her current waitressing job, or the past she wanted to escape.
Things had been very hard for as a child...all she could remember was pain, hunger, and fear. Her first real memories started in her eary teens, when she began to physically blossom. It was as if she had been a ghost in her own life, invisible to the world til puberty revealed her true self.
Boys, and later men, had flocked to her. They offered her food, shelter, clothes, money. To survive, she let them use and abuse her, but part of her still childish mind grew to crave the attention.
With time and experience, Angie's perception of life changed and hardened. She realized she could trust no one but herself. The world was a cruel place...if she didn't look out for herself, no one else would either.
She knew she needed to learn other skills to survive on her own. Her sexuality was a weapon of great power - but if it was her only tool it would eventually trap her. Much better to keep it hidden til needed.
Angie camouflaged herself, wearing baggy clothes, no makeup, messy hair. It worked too well. She hated looking this way. She missed wielding her magic touch over men. Only two things kept her going when she started school. The first was her determination to better herself by learning everything she could. The second was her belief that Dr. Daestar was a loser as a female.
About a month ago Angie's world turned upside down. Up to that point, Angie thought she understood why someone rich and powerful like Daestar would be involved in something as unglamourous as a school. Either the slender brunette was an elitest do-gooder (ie., a chump) or couldn't get a man and so was bored.
The latter made the most sense to her. Dr. Daestar was attractive enough, but didn't seem to know how to dress or act to get male attention. This secret conceit always made Angie smile. She liked pitying the pathetic society woman.
Then one day Roger Smith walked in, elegantly turned out in a perfectly tailored black suit.
Angie could feel his masculine energy as soon as her entered. It was like the air had been electrically charged. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She wanted him.
She had tapped a fellow student on the shoulder, whispering "Who is THAT?"
The other woman's answer had put a knife through her heart: "That's Dr. Daestar's boyfriend, Roger Smith. He seems to be a very nice man."
Angie remembered feeling numb, then furious at the unfairness of the situation. She had picked a book to throw, then glanced at the title...she would never forget that title, how it had opened her eyes.
It was about building generators - and that's when she understood Daestar's secret. Daestar had access to memories. That was why she was rich. That was why she was powerful. That was why she a beautiful man at her beck and call.
Well, two could play at that game...Angie's musings were interrupted by the teacher. He was handing out paper for a pop-quiz.
Angie glanced at the questions on the test...this would be a snap. She would be able to get out of class early today. There would be time to talk again with that bearded reported she'd met at the diner a couple of weeks ago.
Angie smiled to herself, tucking some of her lank blonde hair behind her ear. How easy it had been to manipulate him. She had recognised his name on the press-pass he wore the first time he sat at one of her tables. "Michael Seebach: investigative reporter." She had read his work in the newspaper. He was a relentless hunter, a zealous truth-seeker willing to break all the rules for a story. Neither mercy nor compassion were in his heart, only the desire to know. His greatest passion - perhaps obsession - was the Event of forty years ago.
Angie had flirted outrageously with him. He was no match for her well-honed skills. It didn't take long for her to turn their conversation to the school and its textbooks full of memories.
How his yellow eyes had lit up! He called her his angel, and tipped her generously for the information.
She liked being called "Angel." Perhaps that would be her new name for her new self. The name Roger Smith would call her, once Michael Seebach got rid of Dr. Daestar.
Angie finished the quiz and handed in her paper. She left smiling. It was only a matter of time.
Rowan was surprised to find herself alone when she woke. She found Roger's note and wondered what was so important that he would be gone before 8 AM. She didn't remember his having any appointments scheduled. Well, no matter...he had his reasons.
Ro stretched luxuriously, then hugged Roger's pillow against herself. His scent lingered on its silken cover. She snuggled her cheek against it and smiled. He was so good to her. Finding love was the last thing she had ever expected. Whatever else the future held, she would always cherish this time. She sighed deeply.
Much as she would have preferred to stay in bed, she also had things to attend to in the city. The printer had finished the last small portion of an old text-book order, but was too short-handed to deliver it. Someone had to do it, and she was the only one available. It was time to get up.
Daestar bustled into the printing house, cheerily greeted everyone and loaded the packages into her car. As she drove off, the harried printer realized he had forgotten to tell her that a strange bearded man had been asking about her a few days earlier. He shrugged to himself. It probably wasn't important. He would tell her next time.
When Ro got to the school, she saw how busy everyone was. She decided to bring everything in herself. Her arms piled high with boxes, Rowan didn't see the female student stick her foot out in front of her. She tripped, but recovered fast enough not to fall or drop anything.
Startled, Ro turned and faced the young woman. "Is there a problem?" asked Rowan cooly, wondering what this was all about. She didn't recall seeing the mousy student before...they seemed to be about the same age. The other woman apologised, saying she didn't see her, but she glared defiantly at Ro with hot blue eyes and had the merest trace of a smile on her face.
Daestar stood there for a moment, studying the drab figure before her. She was well aware that she had been deliberately tripped, byt why? She was positive they had never met before. The woman's name tag read "Angie." The name was not familiar.
There was something troubling about this person, an undercurrent of anger and sadness and carnality hidden beneath the dowdy facade. Ro could see hints of the voluptous body beneath the ill-fitting clothes, noticed the delicate features under the mess of dirty blonde hair. She knew how hard it was to be poor and female; to be pretty as well could could be as much curse as blessing.
Daestar decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She would drop the incident, only commenting, "You might want to be a little more careful." She readjusted her hold on the boxes, turned, and continued down the aisle.
Angie's smile spread as watched the tall black-haired woman walk away from her. The wealthy fool doesn't have a clue, she thought to herself. If she's not willing fight for what she has, then she doesn't deserve it.
Angie busied herself on the periphery of a shorthand class, sneaking glances at Daestar as she conferred with Berg and some of the other department heads. I ought to thank her, Angie snickered to herself, for opening up my eyes.
Blessed with a sharp mind and a quick intelligence, Angie had no trouble following the teacher and daydreaming at the same time.
She mused about why she had started taking classes months ago. Angie had learned of the place's existance through rumor and word-of-mouth. Like so many others, she came out of curiosity and stayed when she realized it was a genuine chance to improve her life. It certainly couldn't be worse thaan her current waitressing job, or the past she wanted to escape.
Things had been very hard for as a child...all she could remember was pain, hunger, and fear. Her first real memories started in her eary teens, when she began to physically blossom. It was as if she had been a ghost in her own life, invisible to the world til puberty revealed her true self.
Boys, and later men, had flocked to her. They offered her food, shelter, clothes, money. To survive, she let them use and abuse her, but part of her still childish mind grew to crave the attention.
With time and experience, Angie's perception of life changed and hardened. She realized she could trust no one but herself. The world was a cruel place...if she didn't look out for herself, no one else would either.
She knew she needed to learn other skills to survive on her own. Her sexuality was a weapon of great power - but if it was her only tool it would eventually trap her. Much better to keep it hidden til needed.
Angie camouflaged herself, wearing baggy clothes, no makeup, messy hair. It worked too well. She hated looking this way. She missed wielding her magic touch over men. Only two things kept her going when she started school. The first was her determination to better herself by learning everything she could. The second was her belief that Dr. Daestar was a loser as a female.
About a month ago Angie's world turned upside down. Up to that point, Angie thought she understood why someone rich and powerful like Daestar would be involved in something as unglamourous as a school. Either the slender brunette was an elitest do-gooder (ie., a chump) or couldn't get a man and so was bored.
The latter made the most sense to her. Dr. Daestar was attractive enough, but didn't seem to know how to dress or act to get male attention. This secret conceit always made Angie smile. She liked pitying the pathetic society woman.
Then one day Roger Smith walked in, elegantly turned out in a perfectly tailored black suit.
Angie could feel his masculine energy as soon as her entered. It was like the air had been electrically charged. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She wanted him.
She had tapped a fellow student on the shoulder, whispering "Who is THAT?"
The other woman's answer had put a knife through her heart: "That's Dr. Daestar's boyfriend, Roger Smith. He seems to be a very nice man."
Angie remembered feeling numb, then furious at the unfairness of the situation. She had picked a book to throw, then glanced at the title...she would never forget that title, how it had opened her eyes.
It was about building generators - and that's when she understood Daestar's secret. Daestar had access to memories. That was why she was rich. That was why she was powerful. That was why she a beautiful man at her beck and call.
Well, two could play at that game...Angie's musings were interrupted by the teacher. He was handing out paper for a pop-quiz.
Angie glanced at the questions on the test...this would be a snap. She would be able to get out of class early today. There would be time to talk again with that bearded reported she'd met at the diner a couple of weeks ago.
Angie smiled to herself, tucking some of her lank blonde hair behind her ear. How easy it had been to manipulate him. She had recognised his name on the press-pass he wore the first time he sat at one of her tables. "Michael Seebach: investigative reporter." She had read his work in the newspaper. He was a relentless hunter, a zealous truth-seeker willing to break all the rules for a story. Neither mercy nor compassion were in his heart, only the desire to know. His greatest passion - perhaps obsession - was the Event of forty years ago.
Angie had flirted outrageously with him. He was no match for her well-honed skills. It didn't take long for her to turn their conversation to the school and its textbooks full of memories.
How his yellow eyes had lit up! He called her his angel, and tipped her generously for the information.
She liked being called "Angel." Perhaps that would be her new name for her new self. The name Roger Smith would call her, once Michael Seebach got rid of Dr. Daestar.
Angie finished the quiz and handed in her paper. She left smiling. It was only a matter of time.