VACANCY & ARIEL

A conflict arose between Isha and Ah’raelle, one having to do with trust. Isha, in an attempt to protect her, kept information from her relating to a mission. She believed he was trying to manipulate her and that he had gone over to the Akhitai. Nothing Isha said or did could persuade her that he was loyal. Unable to repair the relationship, he became distraught, distracted, and—eventually—deranged. The love he had felt for Ah’raelle changed to bitterness and hatred, and he became a rogue, traveling across the multiverse, seeking out her analogues in other realities. The reasons for his actions were left unclear—but whether vengeful or trying to establish a relationship with another Ah’raelle, he succeeded in wreaking havoc with the Weave, and Ah’raelle was punished by being sent on to kill Isha.

Thus ended the first volume of the Akashel Trilogy.

My mind thronged by suppositions, I returned to my room and saw the message light blinking on the phone. I had two messages, both from Ariel. The first went as follows:

“This is Ariel…from the party. Sorry to call so late, but I wonder if you’re free for lunch tomorrow. I’ve been reading The Willowy Woman and I have some questions. About the book. Uhm…I…If we miss each other for lunch, I’ll be in the city a few more days. I’m in the hotel, too.” A pause. “Room Five Twenty-Three.” Another, longer pause. “I’ll talk to you later, I hope.”

Then the second message:

“If we don’t connect, I’ll be in the coffee shop tomorrow at noon. Good night.”

I fell asleep the second I hit the bed and waked thinking about Ariel in a less than clinical way. After showering, though it was only eleven, too anxious to sit in the room, I went down to the coffee shop and ordered a diet Pepsi. I had been there nearly three-quarters of an hour when a slight gray-haired man with a hunted look stopped by my booth and said in what seemed an accusatory tone, “Dick Cyrus.” Without bothering to introduce himself, he went on, “Your work is interesting, but I find your use of flashbacks annoying.”

After discarding several more aggressive replies, I said, “Bite me.”

He gave me a bitter stare and scurried off, doubtless seeking someone else to reprimand. Shortly thereafter Ariel entered the restaurant, wearing jeans and a white turtleneck sweater. She slid into the seat across from me and said, “I’m glad you could make it.” She appeared to be as nervous as I was. Ducking her eyes, fidgeting with her silverware. Her fingers were disproportionately long, but there was no extra joint.

A waitress came to hover. Ariel ordered eggs, bacon, and an extra side of bacon. Did her metabolism run higher than the norm?

“That’s eight pieces of bacon, ma’am,” the waitress warned.

Ariel thought it over. “I’d like a stack of pancakes, too.” We made small talk while waiting for the food, telling stories about Jannine, discussing our lives—she rented a cabin in the hills near Arcata in northern California—and holding a post-mortem on the party, a topic upon which we were of one mind. Once we had eaten I asked what questions she had about The Willowy Woman.

“This is going to sound strange,” she said. “But I have dreams about a woman who resembles the one in your book. The jacket notes said you believe the legend is true.”

“I saw her,” I said. “I know it’s true.”

“In West Virginia? Where exactly?”

“Over near Durbin, the northwestern part of the state.”

“Oh,” she said glumly.

“It was a long time ago and she hasn’t been spotted in the area since. She may have moved closer to Moundsville, if that’s what you were thinking.”

She nodded. “I was thinking that.”

I fielded her questions as best I could, hampered in this by not wanting to reveal what I knew. We exhausted the topic and she turned the conversation to my new book. Our mutual agent had given her to understand that our fictive conceptions of the universe were almost identical. I told her about my moment of inspiration, about Rahul, but not about the project.

“I feel almost no connection with most people,” she said after a considerable silence. “I’m not sure why. Maybe a lack of trust due to my memory. But I feel a strong connection with you. Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen you before, but…” She drew a breath, as if summoning strength. “I don’t know what your plans are, but I’m going to be in New York five more days. If you’re agreeable, I’d enjoy spending some time with you.”

I tried not to appear overeager. “I’d like that, too.”

“Why? I mean…I wonder what you’re feeling.”

“I’d characterize it as an attraction,” I said.

A kid in a Fangoria T-shirt chose the moment to approach and ask me for an autograph. Ariel snapped at him, “Wait till we’re done!” The kid slunk away. I looked at her in surprise. Her outburst had embodied an off-handed imperiousness that enlarged my appreciation of her character. This one, I told myself, was accustomed to giving orders.

“I hate being interrupted.” She turned back to me, still in command mode. “Go on.”

“I was finished.”