Elena left Brock with Kerry and Shvaughn, and strode over to the circle of chairs, sitting down without invitation or greeting. One of the mute, shattered sensitives knelt at her feet without ever acknowledging the presence of the Donovan sensitives, even via the subtle non-verbal signals that Van knew most mages never noticed; he looked human, from what could be seen under the loose nondescript clothing, but Van cringed from the thought of how much leeway that still left. Worse, seeing the hunters' sensitives was terrible even for the more experienced sensitives who knew they were safe; what was going through Randi's mind right now, confronted with what could too easily be her fate if Van couldn't protect her?

"It takes a certain amount of nerve, to take that one out in public, after what she did," Elena said.

"Doesn't look to me like she's terribly dangerous," Aiden said critically. "She hasn't moved or made a sound except when Van's sent her to get drinks for us, she keeps her eyes down, when she does speak she's respectful... what more do you want after ten days or so? And, I mean, really, a tiny little thing like that shouldn't be a threat to any mage who has half a clue how to handle a sensitive. She's awfully cute. The kitten look is appropriate, I think."

"Cats," Elena said, in obvious distaste, "are cunning, treacherous, deceitful, arrogant beasts that will, with no remorse, bite the hand that feeds them. They have none of a dog's straightforward loyalty and honesty and obedience."

"Yes, well, everyone has different tastes. I know someone who has a pet snake, which I can't say would be a pet I'd want. Especially the part about feeding it mice. I'm not especially squeamish, I'd say, but I don't believe I'd want to do that on a regular basis. And what on earth would be the point of a pet you can't pet, go for walks with, count on to catch vermin, or use as a guardian? How would one play with a snake?"

"Depending on the size of the snake, very carefully, I'd say," Brennan said dryly.

"Good point."

"I don't believe I know many mages who actually have pets," Elena mused. "Other than sensitives, that is. Of course, the variation one can achieve with only a sensitive can be considerable, depending on the mage."

"I don't think anyone here is unaware of that," Aiden said. "Oblique and Sage are rarely the same from week to week. I'm sure Van will be waxing creative before long, as well."

Elena smiled, and Van flinched inside. No cat was ever as deliberately cruel as she. "I was thinking of the truly creative mages. You come up with some attractive, artistic looks, I'll grant you, and there's a lot to be said for subtlety, but I've never heard of any of you pushing the limits. Not so long ago, I had to find a new sensitive for a mage who decided to experiment with the possibility of turning a sensitive, not into an anthropomorphized bear, but into a living bear rug. No bones, just fur and internal organs." She shrugged. "As it turned out, he made a mistake in trying to adapt the heart and lungs, and found himself less a sensitive. But I find it difficult not to admire the mind that asks such questions. Don't you?"

Only a hunter would say something like that to a trio of Donovans, Van thought, nauseous. Oblique's expression had turned to stone; he couldn't even imagine Miranda's reaction, though she hadn't moved. He'd wanted practice, not an ordeal like this!

"Elena," Brennan said, his voice steady but his eyes gone hard, "I would appreciate it if you would spare us the gory details. I'm looking forward to Grania's burgers, and after much more of that, I'm afraid I won't have any appetite left."

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I'd think that some experiments would interest Van. We're told that we can't influence a sensitive's mind directly, but what happens if you alter the brain structure to that of a lower mammal? Or even a bird or a reptile? What about leaving it human but reshaping it without one part or another, to find out exactly what each does?"

"Elena!" There was an edge of outright anger in Brennan's tone, this time. "You will be granted the respect due a hunter here, but that does not extend to listening to descriptions or speculation about matters you know very well no Donovan would ever consider."

"I've always thought it might be interesting to try some of the more extreme variations myself. If one were very careful, it should be possible to keep a sensitive alive through multiple experiments, or at least learn quite a lot from the exact reason for death." That smile came back, and her gaze flicked to Miranda. "Maybe one day I'll get the chance."

"Elena! No more!" Aiden said flatly. "You're overstepping any possibly bounds of courtesy."

"Not on my sensitive," Van growled, only half aware of both hands clenching into fists, utter rage surging. " Keep away from her. Don't threaten her, don't even fucking look at her."

The smile didn't waver at all. "Until Wednesday. Then we'll see."

Every instinct screamed at him to attack, that she was a danger to Miranda and to him; only Brennan's quick head-shake stopped him. He wasn't sure what he'd have done, anyway. Attacked her physically? Magically?

"Van, take Pride, go sit by the lake, and get your temper under control," Brennan said firmly. "Oblique, go see how dinner's coming along."

Van rose, said curtly, "Pride, come," and strode towards the lake. Miranda ran after him, had to half-jog to keep up. Behind him, he could hear Brennan's voice, low and cold, but couldn't make out the words.

He followed the shoreline until they were out of the direct line of sight, and let go of the barely leashed fury. One fist slammed into a dead tree; telekinesis snapped into play a fraction of an inch before he connected, keeping his hand in one piece, but the tree splintered and cracked. Brennan, even barely out of contact with Miranda, was no real threat; on some level, he always knew that. Elena was something else altogether, and there was nothing he could do.

Miranda looked nervously behind them, and said, very softly, "Van?"

He hugged her, tightly, felt the tension in her body. "She can't have you," he said fiercely. "I won't let her."

"I know." Her voice shook, just a little, but she snuggled close. "She wanted to scare me so I'd do something I shouldn't."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Or so I would. Or just for kicks, knowing her."

"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?"

She looked up, and smiled. "Well, I know exactly where I am on the okay-not-okay scale. Which is somewhere in between but more towards okay. She's awful, but I'm staying with you. Where are you?"

"Closer to okay every minute."

She pulled away, gently. "It would be bad if someone came looking for us. I think we should go back to where they can see us." She took a couple of steps back towards the beach, and paused to wait for him so she could follow a step behind.

Van sank down on the edge of the grass, his feet on sand, and crossed his arms on his raised knees—it was a place he'd spent many hours, both while he lived here and since. Since no one else was close enough to tell whether he'd given her a command or not, he left Miranda to choose where she wanted to be.

That turned out to be curled up at his side, not quite touching, making full use of the more flexible spine that matched her feline markings. Together, they watched the rippling waves, and the loon that lived in a nearby cove. Van heard Miranda whisper, "Oh, that's what she is." The anger and frustration and helplessness faded somewhat, down to manageable levels at least.

He hoped Brennan had kept his head and not said anything to Elena he shouldn't. He was well within his rights to call her down for continuing a subject she'd been told was disturbing, violating hospitality laws she was supposed to enforce. But, knowing Elena, it would only make her more determined to hurt Bren, and if he said the wrong thing, she'd have him up on charges in heartbeats. Much like either hunter would do if any of the sensitives slipped, even once.

"My Lord?"

Van glanced behind him. "Yes, Unity?"

"Lady Grania sent me to tell you that dinner is ready, if you'd like to come join the other Lords and Ladies."

"I suppose I'd better."

"Lady Shvaughn says to remind you that the thirty-days law applies to mage behaviour as well as sensitive behaviour, my Lord." It was delivered in the same perfectly innocent tone, but one crimson eye closed in an unmistakable wink. "And that there are times to react, not think, and that you did the best thing you could."

"Thanks." He stood up, and stretched. "Go with Unity, I'm sure there's something they can use extra hands for." The others would keep themselves between her and the hunters as best they could, he was sure of that.

"Yes, my Lord," Miranda said dutifully, and uncoiled. Behind him, on the way back towards the house, he heard Miranda whisper, "You look like the bird in the lake. It's pretty," and Unity murmured back, "It's a loon, and thank you. I like your stripes, too."

Grania handed him a plate with a burger on it. "Potatoes and salad and all are on the table, and I'm starting the second round of burgers."

"Thanks."

The lawn chairs had been moved closer to the table, as an alternative to trying to fit eight mages along a picnic table with no contact. Donovans, influenced by their sensitives, were considerably less obsessive about it than others, but it was all part of the game—and who'd want to sit next to a hunter? Van sank into a chair between Shvaughn and Brennan, and felt a bit safer, until Brock took the one on Shvaughn's far side in the loose arc. It could easily have been the same sensitive who sat at his feet, with no command from Brock spoken or unspoken, that had been at Elena's earlier: there was no trace of personality or individuality left in either.

"Feeling better?" he asked Van courteously.

"Calmer, yes," Van said shortly, and took a bite of well-dressed burger. It seemed a shame, wasting Grania's cooking on an atmosphere like this.

"Glad to hear it. Elena's a damned good hunter, but she's not exactly subtle, and she takes things much too personally. I got distracted, and the next thing you know, she's making not-very-veiled threats against your sensitive." He shook his head, sighed. "If you stay near me, I can yank her chain if she gets carried away again."

Do you honestly think I can't recognize good cop/bad cop when I see it? Van snarled in his own mind, but Brock's false sympathy was marginally less grating than Elena's overt malice, so it was probably worth playing along. "Thanks. I don't know why I lost my temper like that."

Brock shrugged. "Happens to some mages when they first get a sensitive. It's a possessive thing. That's one reason why we have the thirty-days law, after all." He bit into his burger, and his eyes half-closed in bliss. "Oh, this is good."

"Grania's very talented," Shvaughn said, allowing a touch of pride in her elder daughter to creep into her voice.

"I'll say. Anyway, it doesn't look to me like you're having any trouble keeping... what did you name her?"

"Pride."

Brock was good, there was hardly a flicker of reaction. "Cute name. Keeping Pride under control. If she acts on Wednesday like she has today, there shouldn't be a problem."

The pause simply invited Van to confide any difficulties he was having; he knew the technique, used it himself.

"Good, because she's learning fast and hasn't kicked up a fuss at all."

"Just be careful, okay? You can never completely trust them after they've gone as far as physical assault. Once they've done it once, they're likely to do it again, and what they see as a good reason isn't necessarily one any mage can predict. Or understand. I know Piotr Vladislav, I can imagine what he did that made her break once, but it won't take something that extreme for it to happen again."

Van frowned. "You think so? I suppose I see a variation of it all the time, at work. As soon as someone hits his or her partner the first time, it's much more likely to be repeated, and it usually escalates."

Brock nodded seriously. "They're never completely reliable."

"I guess we'll both have to keep a close eye on her," Brennan said. "I'm at home during the day while Van's at work, so it isn't as though she's ever unsupervised. Usually she either helps me outside or Oblique inside, depending on where she's most useful that day."

Brock's expression grew even more sober. "You might want to keep the two of them from being alone together. If they get to talking about it, she could corrupt yours, as well. Give her the idea that attacking a mage is something a sensitive can get away with."

"Oblique? Nah. She's been with me for, oh, years now, and she hardly ever misbehaves at all. She wouldn't turn renegade."

"Don't be too certain of that. It's happened before." He shrugged. "I don't mean to be depressing, I'd just hate to see anything nasty happen to the two of you at the hands of your own sensitives."

"We'll keep it in mind," Brennan assured him. "Hm, I think I need a drink to go with this."

"Azure, come," Shvaughn said, normal tone; Azure must have been very close, because in a couple of heartbeats, he was there.

Van blinked, took a second look. Slender, mid-height Azure made a stunning... what were they called? Bettas, that was it, fighting fish, the males bred to have long diaphanous fins and brilliant colours. Azure was as scaled as Oblique, but his shaded from intense scarlet at his head through vivid purple to rich blue. Arms and legs trailed long colourful veil-like fins that must weigh virtually nothing, from the way they floated in even the faintest breeze or at the slightest motion; it gave the fascinating impression that he was moving underwater. The golden band around his throat, engraved with his name and Shvaughn's, contrasted beautifully.

"My Lady?"

"What was it you wanted, Bren?"

"More root beer, with ice."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Anyone else?"

Van requested more orange pop, Brock cola, and Shvaughn ginger ale, then she sent him off. There was another fin down his back, too. His own natural grace only added to the illusion of gliding through water.

Conversation stayed light and, at least on the surface, friendly; Van kept an eye out for Miranda, but he didn't see her. He finally stopped Oblique, on her way by, and asked where she was.

"In the kitchen doing dishes and generally being extremely helpful, my Lord. Shall I tell her you want her?"

"No, I was just wondering." That was probably a good place for her, out of sight and hearing, away from both the hunters and the constant reminder embodied in their sensitives—and now that he looked, he still hadn't seen Aiden's Sage, so he doubted she was alone. If Sage was with her, she'd be all right.