“So… do you already know why I’m here?”
“I’ve been expecting you. But why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
As she stared into her own soul, Lyric shook her head. “I don’t know why I came.”
Okay, that wasn’t true. She just couldn’t seem to find the words for anything.
“Talk it out.” Lassiter reached to the far side of his chair and brought up a reflective half circle. “It can be helpful to just hear our own voices sometimes.”
Settling the shiny expanse across his bare chest, he eased back in the chair and closed his eyes, as if there were a sun to bathe under.
“G’on, then. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Lyric stared out over the lawn that was so even in color and blade that it was like a carpet. Then she focused on the temple that was all closed up, the one that was just off the white colonnade where she’d heard the birds and the falling water.
“Is that the Temple of the Sequestered Scribes?”
“Yuppers. That’s the one.”
“I’ve heard there’s also a library here, and the books on the shelves contain all the history of the species… every vampire soul and whatever they went through is listed on those pages.”
“You’ve got it right. And the seeing bowls with their water levels are still at the transcribing stations that feed all of those pages.”
“Why haven’t you kept it up? Is it because the Primale freed the Chosen?”
Lassiter shrugged. “It’s just not my style. Plus, there’s another way.”
“What other way?”
“It’s a secret.” With his eyes closed, he made ashhhh!with his forefinger over his mouth. “But that’s my business, as I’m in charge now and each one of us will do things in our own way.”
“Each one… wait, how long do you think you’ll stay here?”
“Until it’s my time to turn this over to someone else.”
A strange alarm struck in the center of her chest. “You’re supposed to be permanent.”
“Come on, girl.” He popped his lids and looked at her. “There’s nothing permanent in the universe, and even immortals have lives that pass. It’s called eras. But you came here to talk about you, not my existential employment.”
“I’m afraid I’m wasting my life,” she blurted. “I was thinking maybe if I had a higher calling, something sacred to do, it might make me feel…”
“Like you matter?” The angel cracked a that’s-cute half smile. “Come on. You have four parents who love you, a brother who would die to keep you safe, and more protective uncles than this place has tulips.”
Okay, the part about Rhamp stung, it really did.
“But I need to do something that matters or all this is a waste.” Shemotioned over herself. “I know I need to make a change, but I just can’t see how to get out of this neutral. I’ve been running in circles having my picture taken, talking to strangers. Meanwhile, everybody else around me is doing something… that matters.”
“So you’ve come up here, thinking I might put you to work in the library shuffling books around? Or maybe taking notes on other people? And you think that will make you feel better?”
“Is there something else I could help with? Mymahmencontributed up here. I could follow in her footsteps.”
Lassiter put aside his under-the-chin tanner and sat up. Now, when he looked at her, he was all business, the jokey-jokey gone, his eyes grave.
“To devote your life in service to this place is a great fantasy, but the reality is you’re here to avoid confronting the things you need to deal with down below. A sacred duty is a calling, not something manufactured to hide behind when shit’s not going your way.”
Images of Dev played across her mind’s eye—especially what he’d looked like as he’d walked out of the apartment. And then she pictured Marcia, barking out orders with phones up to her ears. The chaser? Rhamp down on the street, fighting offlesserswhile she watched from that roof.
Lyric lowered her head. “You’re right. You’re right, I know… you’re right.”
