To the Power Born: A Tale of the Slayers
Part 20: Rehearsal, Recognition and Responsibility
James Tanner, recipient of multiple Oscars for his movie soundtracks, Grammys for his music both popular and orchestral, two-time performer at White House Command Performances, holder of god only knows how many gold and platinum records, is the only person Aunt Elaine even considered having score Dance the Heavens Home— and he looks as much like a musician as Mi Kyong looks like a grizzly bear.
People tend to think of musicians (especially of those who write music, doubly so for those who write orchestral music) as people who are slender and geeky-looking, or pudgy and geeky-looking— but the geeky-looking qualifier is always in there. They don't look terribly physically active in our minds, they often wear glasses and look… well, soft somehow. Skinny-soft, fat-soft, even just not-in-shape soft. The reality of James was very different from the expectation.
James Tanner stands an even six feet tall, weighs around a hundred and eighty pounds, and looks like he could beat the hell out of that grizzly bear that Mi Kyong looks nothing like. He's got the permanent bronzing of a man who loves the outdoors, long, light brown hair that he wears loose around his shoulders (except in a micro or zero gravity environment, when everyone with long hair wears it pulled back in a ponytail, and, if they're smart, wraps the tail— hair floating around your head can get you killed), and the physique of a serious athlete for whom strength is important. At forty, he still looks thirtyish, and he has a smile that can make a person attracted to a certain type of male fall instantly into desire.
"Okay," he said, strolling into the suite behind Linnea at noon the next day, "first thing; Elaine, it's about goddamn time!
"Second thing; my name is James. All here will call me James. No Mister Tanner, no Jim, and very emphatically no Jimmy. Use of Jimmy will be met with wanton acts of extreme violence.
"Third thing; Elaine, it's about goddamn time!"
Aunt Elaine, laughed, hugged him, and introduced everyone. James got all four new names right in one try (me, Mi Kyong, Colin and Ethan), agreed to autograph Mi Kyong's copy of Dance the Heavens Home (Aunt Elaine had given Mi Kyong her own copy), introduced his own pseudo dragon pal, a sturdy-looking chrome-colored female named Muse (inevitable name, I suppose), and sat down to lunch with us.
After lunch, he and Aunt Elaine went off to a smaller zero-gee chamber above the axis of the Station, him with a large portable synthesizer over his arm, her in dance clothes. I didn't see them again before morning— they worked until after eleven that night.
I spent the day inside, running around and playing tourist with Colin and Mi Kyong, since a spacesuit wasn't a good idea with my still-healing shoulder. Aunt Sh'rin stayed in with the younger kids, since getting into a spacesuit with her arm in a lightweight plastic cast, while feasible, was awkward. Uncle Ballard and the oldest of their kids— Nathaniel, Linnea and Autumn— spent the day checking out and ordering movie cameras that were rated for use in space, then taking an advanced zero-gravity-spacesuit-movement course. The three kids would be the stagehand-types, and Uncle Ballard would be a cameraman, with other cameras being run by professional cameramen who were used to working in space— not so hard, when you realized that Asimov Station had its own film studio for making documentaries and tourist-information films about the station. (In addition, they shot a lot of stuff for science fiction movies and television shows, mostly background shots and such.)
The next morning when he came to join us for breakfast, James looked… glazed. Overloaded, sort of. Aunt Rose took a long look at him, then spoke.
"James, are you okay?" Aunt Rose asked. "You look… stoned."
James looked at Aunt Rose for a moment, then said in a low voice, "It's that good, Rose. What Elaine is going to dance… it's that good."
We all sat and stared for a moment— then Aunt Elaine said, "He exaggerates."
"Demonstration-dancing inside the station, no view of space— and that view can only magnify what you're doing— she had me crying so hard I couldn't see my keyboard," James said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Does that sound like an exaggeration to anyone here?"
We all sat silently for a second, then turned to look at Aunt Elaine, who blushed deeply.
"Well… his music is just as good— and that was very rough ideas, just framing out what he's going to do later," said Aunt Elaine, sounding almost defensive.
"Okay, now I'm triply glad you invited me along," Colin said. "I have to see this! And hear it— and I get to do so live!"
By the next morning, I was all healed up, and I got to go outside some, where I mostly listened to Uncle Ballard talk the kids through the essentials of playing stagehand in space. Mostly, they'd be responsible for the lighted markers that marked the edge of Aunt Elaine's dance space. Well, that and staying out of the way of the cameras.
I did very little of anything constructive over our time on Asimov Station. I didn't talk to my parents or anyone after my freakout— but I did get email from them saying that I was to stress nothing, just to play and enjoy my time up on the Station. They were honest enough to tell me that they were upset— but that it wasn't anger, it was worry. That left me… well, so relieved that I can't properly tell you. I knew I'd been a dumbass, and on top of my other recent stupid moments, I was afraid they'd be angry.
So I played a lot, I learned a lot— I took a Basics of Zero Gravity Combat course, since I'm kind of a martial arts addict, and one case of having to deal with vampires in space meant that there might well be others— and I hopped into bed with Colin at every opportunity. I went on as many spacewalks as I could, I toured the observatory on the "top" of the Station and looked through the god-monster telescope there at Saturn and Jupiter, and at the freaking Andromeda Galaxy!
And most important of all (to me), the day before we went home, I watched Aunt Elaine dance.
From that dance, I can tell you bluntly that tears in a spacesuit are a freaking pain in the ass!
I can't describe this one, any more than I could describe Dance the Heavens Home— but in a little bit, I'll do what I can. Dimmed down, reduced to a filmed image… maybe I'll have better luck, you know?
Before I get to that; after watching a practice run two days before the actual filming (and that in the indoor practice bubble, without the sheer impact that space only added to the thing), Uncle Ballard came back to our suite with his eyes still leaking tears— and a sad, hurt, brilliant, joyful smile on his face. Aunt Elaine and James weren't with him, they were still back at the practice bubble. Uncle Ballard hugged everyone in the suite long and hard, kissed the three of his wives who were present like he meant it, then said, "I need to make some phone calls, people. Then… then I need to make love to my wives— Elaine will be home by then— then I need to sleep.
"Phone calls first. Don't hold dinner for me, I may be a while, and this is important."
We left him to it, curious though we were, and he was on the phone for most of four hours. When he came out, Aunt Elaine had been back for two hours, we'd all eaten, and Uncle Ballard stopped to eat before he'd say a word. Once he'd eaten, Aunt Elaine asked what he'd done.
"Several things, one of which you'll have to wait for— it's a surprise." Uncle Ballard gave us all a grin, then said, "First off… dear, you're going to be fabulously wealthier than you are right now, and soon. All six networks are preparing themselves for an auction— we're going to auction off the rights to broadcast this. Don't you argue with me, dammit!" Aunt Elaine closed her mouth, looking shocked, and Uncle Ballard went on. "We'll still release it as a DVD, and it will still sell like mad, honey— but as many people as possible need to see this! All the world needs to see it, and the best way to expose it to the most numbers is network TV. I've put out a list of rules, and made it plain that these rules are immutable, and then I made plain that this is a one-time event— no re-broadcast rights written in, period, no exceptions. They want that, they can bid again. You hold copyright to the video and the music— I already made a deal with James on that, he'll be very damned wealthy over it, and he said to tell you to, quote 'shut the hell up, because without you, I'd never have written this music,' end quote.
"I'll work out foreign broadcast rights through your agent, too— but that's just money stuff.
"The big thing… folks, I want you all to promise me something. Something big, something important, something… I'm asking a lot, here, but once you see, you'll understand.
"I want everyone here to promise me that you will not discuss this performance with anyone on Earth until they have seen it for themselves. That very much, very emphatically and very especially includes our extended families. All of them. Again, folks, once you see, you'll understand!
"I want our families to see this under controlled conditions, and I've already made arrangements for that. On the afternoon of July the Fifth, we're all going to the Palace theater, where I've paid for every seat in the largest auditorium, with the largest screen and the best sound, three-d capable, of course… and all of our family and friends will see this together, which I think they very much need to do.
"Then on the sixth of July… the world will see it. On the following Tuesday, we sit back and watch the money roll in as the DVD is released.
"But seriously, people… no one talks to our family. Please?"
For a long moment, no one said a thing.
"I promise," Mi Kyong said. "After Dance the Heavens Home… yes. I promise."
"I promise," I said. "I trust you, Uncle Ballard."
That started a flood, which finished when Aunt Elaine said, "Ballard… thank you. You understand, I can tell by what you're asking. I promise."
She kissed him after that, and thirty seconds later, Uncle Ballard and his wives had gone to bed.
Colin and I followed suit.
Two days later, the day before we were scheduled to go home, Aunt Elaine, wearing her thirty million dollar spacesuit with a simple white leotard under it, and compressed air jets on her wrists and calves, danced.
We took a rented shuttle out to a place well beyond the Station's usual orbit, and we found another, military-looking shuttle (Air Force markings were a dead giveaway) parked in the area. Uncle Ballard said it was okay, they were supposed to be there, and would say no more.
Half an hour later, the cameras and carefully gauged and placed lights had been set up, James had put the CD that had his score— recorded on Earth by the London Symphony Orchestra as soon as he'd completed it— into his synthesizer, which he'd be playing real-time for some more modern instrument sounds (guitars and keyboards, mostly), and Uncle Ballard called for radio silence, told us all to set our radios on a rarely used frequency, then to disable our microphones. Just before we did, Mi Kyong, Linnea, Erin and I all chorused "Blow a gasket!" into our mikes— causing Aunt Elaine to chuckle and Uncle Ballard to laugh aloud as we gave her the Star-Dancers' version of "break a leg" from the books that had inspired her to do this.
I saw a lot of people in spacesuits come out of the Air Force shuttle as Aunt Elaine moved to her mark, but ignored them— Uncle Ballard said it was okay, so it was.
Ten second later, the music started— and I saw the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I was shaken to the very core of myself by the time she was done— it felt like I'd been watching Aunt Elaine dance for days, and like it had only been a few seconds. I was glad to get back to the shuttle, because I really needed a fistful of tissues.
When Aunt Elaine got inside, Uncle Ballard grabbed her first, helped her get her helmet off, kissed the ever-loving heck out of her, said in a slightly weepy voice, "That, wife of mine, was a freaking take!"— and passed her to Aunt Rose, who kissed her even more urgently.
After we'd all kissed her and hugged her, Aunt Elaine strapped herself into a seat— and went to sleep for the half hour ride back to Asimov Station, her pseudo dragon Charm curled up in her arms. (The pseudo dragons had watched from the shuttle, along with the pilots— and they were as floored as we humans were.)
When we got back to the Station, we saw that Air Force shuttle parked in the slot next to ours— and when we got off, there was a double line of marines in full dress uniforms standing on either side of the hall to the spacesuit locker room.
Uncle Ballard made us all wait, made Aunt Elaine get off first, and as soon as she stepped on the decks of the station, a marine Major who was standing off to one side said, "Present… arms!"
All twelve of the marines lining the hall drew their sabers, raised them so that the hilts were at the level of their mouths, and held them there as Aunt Elaine looked around in shocked delight.
After a moment, the major called, "Order… arms!" and the marines snapped their hands down to their sides, holding the swords up along their arms, braced against their shoulders. As they did that, a man stepped into view at the end of the hall— and Aunt Elaine, as Aunt Rose would say… "meeped!"
"Ms. Marshall," said Alex Halstead, the President of the United States, standing there with tear tracks on his face and not caring at all who saw them, "it is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you. After what I just saw… both are far more than doubled."
The President made no explanation of his presence, just spoke to Aunt Elaine very graciously for a few moments, told her how incredibly amazing she was, let all of us get introduced, was very nice to all of us, introduced us all to his pseudo dragon friend, a tiny, deep blue male named Thunderbird (the President had been a member of the Air Force's precision flying team, the Thunderbirds, for a while), and spoke to us all kindly.
"I'm afraid I can't stay," the President said, after the introductions and maybe ten minutes of talking about what he'd seen. "I'm due back on Earth soon. Ms. Marshall… thank you. And thank you, Mr. Innes, very much."
With that, he left— and once he was gone, Aunt Elaine rounded on Uncle Ballard, and slapped him playfully on the shoulder.
"How the hell did you pull that off, Ballard Innes!?" Aunt Elaine demanded. "And so help me god, if you try to dodge the question, I will use your birth name in public, mister!"
"I knew the President was up at Armstrong City," Uncle Ballard said, referring to the small city that the United States had established on the moon. "I also knew, from something he said when asked what his favorite piece of art was in an interview once, that he's a big fan— so I called some people, managed to make it known to him that you'd be doing this today. After that, it was all him, love."
She kissed him half to death, then— and we all went to dinner.
The next day, we went home, and I know that I fended off several hundred questions about Aunt Elaine's dance— I said not one word. I fully understood, after seeing it, why Uncle Ballard wanted that kept quiet, wanted no one ready for it in any way.
That evening after we got home, Mom, Dad, Giles, Kelly, Xander, Buffy, Willow and Aunt Dawn asked to speak to me, and I knew it was about my freakout. I went, trying to brace myself for what was coming.
Once we'd all sat down— in the study, and on couches and chairs, making it plain this was informal, which made it a lot easier— Daddy spoke.
"Jocelyn," Dad said, standing up and moving to where everyone could see him, "I think you probably know what this is about."
"Yes, sir," I said. "It's about my refusal to take a team out while we were on Asimov Station."
"Yes," Dad said. He gave me a long, assessing look, then said, "I'm not going to yell about what happened, Jocelyn. None of us are. It's over, it's done, and you know you were wrong. You've admitted it, and you rectified the problem, took the duty, and comported yourself well.
"However… sweetheart, speaking strictly as your father, not as your Watcher, I'm very disappointed that you didn't come to one of us to talk about what was bothering you."
"We're all disappointed, Jocelyn," Mom said softly. "Sweetie, you… you ain't never hid somethin' that was hurtin' you before, an' we don't understand why you did this time. It's a little scary, and a little bit angry-makin'— but we're tryin' to understand. Can you help us?"
"I don't know," I said miserably. "I don't— I don't even know why it started, I j-just… I can't stop thinking about it, and it won't go away, everything Aunt Dawn and Colin and Mi Kyong said about why I'm wrong makes sense, but it won't go away!
"I don't feel like I was supposed to be a Slayer, and I can't… stop… feeling it!"
I was crying by then, and to my surprise, it was Buffy who hugged me first.
"You were meant for this, Jocelyn," Buffy said against my ear. "I know, you don't feel like it right now, and I don't know what we can do about that— but I know, we all know, that you were meant to be a Slayer. We've known you your whole life, and we're all sure."
She let go and Daddy and Mom were there, hugging me, helping me calm down.
When I was okay again, I said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't… I still don't feel right. Could I… do you think Diane could maybe help me?"
"We'll find out," Giles said, letting out a sigh that told me he was hoping I'd been going to ask that. "I'm certain she'll try Jocelyn, and I'll be very surprised if she can't."
"In the meantime," Xander said, "we're going to take you off the roster of team leaders, and for solo missions. Not a punishment, Jocelyn, just trying to take the pressure down a couple of notches."
"Thank you!" I said with total sincerity. "And I want to train more, more and harder, until I get my head on right."
"We'll give you some extra training, but not too much," Aunt Dawn said. I opened my mouth to protest that there was no such thing as too much right now, and she held up a hand to forestall me, then added, "Not up for negotiation, Jocelyn. You still need down time, and working yourself too hard will only make things worse, not better. Some extra training time— but when we say enough, we mean it. No sneaking off to do katas or forms, or to do Capoeira, or read the Watchers' Journals. Down time is mandatory, and will be enforced with a blunt object, if necessary. And before you get any ideas, Buffy will be wielding said blunt object."
"Monday the eighth, you go back into training," Daddy said. "Until then, kata and forms every day, some Capoeira because you love it, and nothing else. Also Monday, you start working with Diane, if she's amenable, and I'm sure she will be."
"Tomorrow is the Fourth of July," Willow said. "We'll be doing the usual picnic and playing around at Miller Park all afternoon and evening. Friday is the day we all get to see what none of you poop-heads who've already seen it will tell us anything about and… and it's Joyce's birthday. Then Saturday, we all watch it again on TV, and Sunday, day off— Monday, you go to work."
"Okay," I said. I hugged Mom and Dad both to me— they were back on either side of me— and said, "I'll do it your way."
"Very well, then the matter is closed," Giles said. He looked at me and added, "Jocelyn… if you need to talk, any of us will listen. You are aware of that, I hope?"
"Yes, Giles," I said. "I know— but it's not… I can't. Not yet."
"All right, then." He stood, said, "I don't suppose I could bribe you into telling us about the dance Elaine did? A Barnes and Noble's gift card for a hundred dollars, shall we say?"
"No way," I said with a laugh. "Aunt Rose and Aunt Elaine will beat me silly if I talk."
"Giles!" Aunt Dawn warned. "No bribing the kids! You'll find out soon enough."
Mom, Dad and I went outside, and I asked if I could go for a walk if I stayed on Giles's property.
"Just got home," I said. "And as much as I loved the Station, I missed the woods. May I?"
"Sure, honey-girl," Daddy said, and hugged me one-armed. "Be inside by nine, please? It's eight, now, and I know, you're fourteen, but… Warren and Catherine."
"By nine," I agreed, hugging him and Mom both. "Promise. And Royal will be with me, so I have a way of yelling for help if something happens."
I went back to the stream at the edge of Giles's property, sat with Royal curled up contentedly on my legs, and I breathed the smell of trees and wildflowers, and relaxed a lot. My family wasn't angry at me, they wanted to help me, and they were trying to let me do things on my terms. I felt much better, despite the tired that came from being back in normal gravity.
I sat and I stroked Royal, and I zoned out— until something started rustling in the bushes across the stream. That made me sit up and stare— little paranoid, sure, but hey, a friend was dead and we had enemies. I started to stand up— and aborted that when a dog came trotting out of the woods on the far side of the stream, tail wagging, mouth hanging open in a doggy grin. He started trotting towards me, and Royal sent, *Jocelyn… I think that's a puppy. Not a dog, a puppy! My god, he's huge!*
I blinked and stared as the animal came across the stream in great big splashy bounds, tail wagging furiously, and tripping over his own paws. That made me think Royal was right— for the second I had before the puppy was standing beside me and shaking himself dry, half-drenching me and Royal both. Then he started licking my face, pausing to bark excitedly a time or two (which was good, it gave me a chance to breathe— puppy breath, ugh!). His barks were big, loud, fairly deep— and still puppyish. Weird, but funny.
Royal climbed up to my shoulder to get a closer look at the puppy— who promptly climbed into my vacated lap. Or, well— he tried. He didn't really fit. Already, his shoulders would come above my knees. I petted him and scratched his ears, ignoring the fact that he was dirty as all heck, and took a good look at him. He had to be a mutt, I decided, but he would probably be pretty when he was clean. Big, like I said, and from his paws, I could see that he would be huge at full growth. Mostly black, with a gray undercoat, and a gray bib and belly. The tips of his ears were gray, too, and the tip of his tail. Despite being dirty and wet, his coat felt very soft, and I could tell that he had a thick ruff on his neck and shoulders like a Husky.
"No collar," I said after checking. "And he's too thin. I think he's a stray.
*He's very happy to see a person,* Royal sent. *He likes people.*
"Oh, jeeze," I said, looking at the puppy. His eyes were an arresting gold color, and I cop— looking into them was a big mistake. I loved dogs in general, and those bright gold eyes sort of caught me. "Well… I think I have to ask Mom and Dad a question."
*I'm shocked,* Royal said in my head, his mental voice desert dry. *No, truly— a teenage girl falling in love with a puppy, who'd ever believe it.
*But… I like him, too, if you think that will help with your parents.*
I got up, moving the puppy's front half off of my legs, and patted my thigh. He followed me as we walked out of the woods, and I saw Mom, Dad, Willow, Lydia and Uncle Ethan sitting on the back porch of our house— huge, sprawling thing, that porch, well shaded by roof and trees, always delightfully cool in the evenings.
"Um, Dad?" I called as we approached. "Mom? Could you guys come down here a second?"
All five of them came, once Mom said, "Good lord, is that a horse beside you, Jocelyn?"
I dropped to one knee beside the puppy as Daddy came down and squatted in front of him and said, "Where'd this moose come from?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was sitting in my usual spot by the stream, and he came out of the woods on the other side and came right to me. Isn't he big?"
"He's big now," Daddy said, picking up one of his paws. "I think he's headed for huge. Or possibly gargantuan, look at these paws!"
"Um, Dad, Mom… could we… well, keep him?" I asked. "I mean— no collar, and look how thin he is, he's obviously got no owner, but he likes people, and he's… well, he's awful cute.
"Oh, and Royal likes him, too!"
"Uh-huh," Daddy said. He looked at me for a minute, then said, "If we keep him, he's your dog, honey. Your responsibility. You train him, you clean up after him until he's housebroken, you feed him. I'll give you the books I bought when I got Abraham, but you do the training. I'll pay for his food— Powers grant that I have the money!— and his vet bills, but he's entirely your responsibility. Understood?"
"Yes, Dad," I said. "Mom, is it okay with you, too?"
"Same conditions as your Dad's, but oh, yeah— he's a cutie," Mom said, grinning at me. "And I'm tellin' you right now, sugar, this one can be a furniture dog as much as Abe is— but if he knocks me on the floor, you pick me up!"
I hugged her, then Daddy, and because I was hugging them, I never saw them look at Willow— and wink. Didn't see her wink back and buff her nails, either. Finks, all of them— and I love them for it.
"I think I'd better start with a bath," I said. "He's in dire need. Can I use the old wading pool?"
"Be a better idea to use the shower in the basement, I think," Mom said. "Looks like he's carryin' a farm's worth of dirt in his coat, you'll be changin' water 'til three in the morning if you use the pool, sugar."
"Daddy?" I asked.
"Your mother's got a point," Daddy said. "Go on, honey-girl."
"Have you decided what you're going to name yonder great beast yet, my dear?" Uncle Ethan asked.
"Actually, yeah, I have, Uncle Ethan," I said, grinning. "I swear, a couple times when he was bounding around, I think I felt the ground shake— so I'm going to call him Richter!"
Everyone laughed as I took my puppy in to give him a much needed bath.
Interlude: Outside the Penobscot house
Once Jocelyn and the puppy had gone inside, Whitey Penobscot looked sharply at Willow Rosenberg and said, "Willow… I thought we agreed you'd summon her a puppy— not a baby elephant!"
"It's not my fault!" Willow said. "I just used the parameters you gave me— a big dog with lots of fur, a good disposition, and one who'd love Jossie as much as she loves him. I can't help it if he's bigger than some cars!"
"Next time we do something like this," Whitey said, shaking his head in amusement, "remind me to specify medium-big."
"You love him already an' you know it," Chantelle said, tickling his ribs.
"True enough," Whitey said. "I love dogs— and Abe… well, the old fellow's getting up there, I'm afraid. This way, we'll still have a dog around after he's gone."
"Oh, stop being a downer," Chantelle said. "Abe's got some good years left in him, still, honey."
"Excuse me," Ethan said, raising a finger. "I don't mean to interrupt, but… 'summon her a puppy?' Could someone explain that, please?"
"Ride with me to Wal-Mart to get him some bowls, a collar and a leash," Whitey said. "I'll explain on the way."
They left and the women went inside to wait for Jocelyn to bring the cleaned up puppy back up with her.
Jocelyn:
I put on a swimsuit and gave Richter a bath. He loved the water, didn't fight me at all, unless you count trying to play while I lathered him up with dog shampoo. Silly puppy!
I got him cleaned and towel-dried while Royal watched from the top of the shower door and kibitzed, and decided to go up and sit on the hearth in the living room to brush him. Didn't surprise me at all to find Mom, Willow, Lydia, Colin, Mi Kyong and all my sibs in there, though Daddy and Ethan weren't there.
I found a brush we used for Abe, sat on the hearth in front of the fireplace— no fire in the heart of summer, of course— and started brushing Richter while my sibs and Colin and Mi Kyong came over to meet him. He loved the attention, seemed to love all the people, and was positively fascinated by the pseudo dragons. While I brushed Richter's back, Royal climbed off of my shoulder and sat in front of him, shoved his head close enough for Richter to smell him easily. Richter snuffled at my best friend for a moment— then gave him an enthusiastic lick that almost sent Royal tumbling backwards.
We all laughed at that, and Royal even chuckled himself— then came and lay on the hearth next to my leg and gave Richter an occasional affectionate head-bump.
When it came time to brush Richter's belly, he lay sprawled on his back, grinning up at me— he liked being brushed as much as Abe did, apparently. Daddy came in with a collar for him, told me he had his own dishes in the kitchen and a leash on the rack next to the door, beside Abe's leash. (Not that Abe spent a lot of time on the leash, but when we went somewhere public, he had to deal with it, did so with good grace even.)
While Daddy was examining Richter's paws again in disbelief, Abe himself wandered in from the kitchen, where a dog-door let him come and go as he pleased. He wandered over, saw me brushing another dog, and came over to sit and watch. He chuffed quietly, sort of a "Who's this?" noise, and Daddy reached over and scratched his ears.
"Abe, this is Richter. He's an apprentice family dog— think you could show him the ropes?" Daddy grinned at his dog— Abe loved all of us, but he was Mom and Dad's dog first— and said, "How about it, bud? I'd like him to learn from a master."
Abe stood, walked the rest of the way over to me and Richter, and pressed his nose to the puppy's, shared breath with him for a moment. After a few seconds of that, Richter licked Abe's chin— and both of them started wagging their tails cheerfully. I breathed a sigh of relief— if they hadn't liked each other, it would have been a disaster— and said, "Thank you, Abe."
I finished brushing Richter while Abe and he sat and grinned at each other, and Royal purred that bubbling-cackling sound of a delighted dragon.
"Friday morning, we'll take him to the vet for his shots and a checkup," Daddy said as Richter rolled to his feet and sat half on my lap. "There's puppy chow in the kitchen with Abe's food— I haven't put any out for him yet. Don't give him more than half a bowl right now, he'll get sick. I did put out water for him, though."
"Thanks, Daddy," I said, still sitting and petting Richter's damp fur. "You know, you're gonna be gorgeous once you're dry, Richter."
"I can help with that," Willow said, and waved a hand while whispering something. A warm breeze seemed to emanate from Richter for a second— and just like that, he was dry. "There— and wow, you called that right."
Clean and dry, Richter really was gorgeous, too thin and all. His fur was actually silky to the touch, though his undercoat was thick and rough. When you stroked him, you could see that undercoat for a moment, a flash of silver-gray under the black— beautiful.
"Thank you, Willow," I said. "Wow— Richter, are you sure you don't have a wooly mammoth somewhere in your family tree? Pup, you're part moose, at least!"
I fed him, gave him water, took him outside on the leash so he could do his business, and found yet another reason to be glad I had Slayer-strength. If I'd been normal, I'm pretty sure he'd have dragged me around. He wasn't that big, no, and he needed more muscle on him— but what he had was powerful.
That night, after Colin and I had made love, Royal moved up to lay on my pillow above my head, Nightfall curled up on Colin's stomach— and Richter hopped up on my bed and went to sleep across the foot.
That's how I met my other best friend.