“I can carry that for you,” he offered. “You’re looking a little pale still.”
Lucy was torn between a quick retort and feeling reassured by his kindness. “I can manage, thanks." She went three steps, then added, “But if you want to get me a diet Dr. Pepper after we toss these things, then — ”
“Glad to,” he said. After they crossed the street and turned for the park, he said, “Do you think you got it this time?”
“What do you think?" she countered, her face serious. “You’re a master gamer — was this enough to knock out that number thing?"
“I don’t know enough about your type of ... formula ... to say for sure, but from what you’ve told me, I think you took a big step toward it, if you didn’t get rid of it all the way." He smiled to take any sting out of his words, but Lucy stopped and stared at him.
“Why do you say that?’
“Only because of what you said about unknown factors,” he answered. “If it was what you thought, then I think you’ve got rid of it. But as you said, if there’s something that you don’t know about, and can’t know about, I’m sure you’ll deal with it if it ever shows up again.”
“Oh,” said Lucy, surprised at how well he expressed her own reservations.
“I know you think one of the Geeks is part of the problem. You didn’t say much about it, but it stands to reason that could be a problem. The question is, if one of the Geeks is doing something to call that number thing, then you need to know who it is to stop it once and for all, don’t you?”
She resumed walking. “It looks that way to me.”
“Any way you can find out?”
Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know how much my opinions might slant the sending, if I end up doing one." She stepped through the gates into the park. “The thing of it is, I don’t know for sure that I could find out even if I tried. Maybe I don’t want to find out.”
The park was fairly busy this early afternoon: families were having picnics, there was a soccer game going on at the far end of the two-block-wide park, and group of grammar school kids were being taken on a nature walk by one of the rangers. Lucy hoped no one would notice what they were doing.
“Because you might be wrong?" Ben suggested as they took the winding path through the small stand of redwoods to the edge of the tennis courts, all three of them busy with energetic games. The sounds of balls being lobbed back and forth mixed with the shouts from the soccer field.
“Yeah. This isn’t the kind of thing I want to be wrong about." Lucy admitted.
“That is a problem,” Ben agreed, looking around for a dumpster.
“Over by the supply shed,” said Lucy. “At the edge of the tennis courts.”
“I see it." He motioned her to move aside as two third-graders came barreling down the path on skateboards.
“They’re not supposed to skateboard in the park,” Lucy said automatically; she had often had to remind the twins to use only the designated playgrounds for their skateboarding.
The two boys hollered as they narrowly avoided caroming into a middle-aged man playing Frisbee with his dog.
“I’ll lift the lid for you,” Ben had already reached the dumpster.
“Thanks,” said Lucy, pulling the tote off her shoulder and opening it. She got rid of the candles first, then their paper plates, then the ribbons, and last, the salt that Ben had swept up.
The lid banged closed, and they turned to go out the northern gate that would lead to the Gamester, four blocks away.
A ranger was coming out of the supply shed; she called out, “Hey, kids, thanks for cleaning up after yourselves,” and looked puzzled when Lucy and Ben began to laugh.
30
As she left her house the next morning, Lucy was followed by the sing-song of her brothers, “Lucy has a brunch date, Lucy has a brunch date, Lucy has a brun — ” She closed the door firmly, certain that she hadn’t heard the last of it from Jacob and Jason. She had dressed in black jeans and a lime-green tank top with a khaki-silk camp shirt open over it. She decided on a small wallet instead of her tote, put on dark sunglasses, and tied her hair back with a magenta scarf. She wondered if Ben realized that she was aware of his liking for her, and if he were, how she would deal with it.
By the time she got to Rosario’s, Ben was waiting for her, also in black jeans, and a spruce-colored polo shirt. He grinned when he saw her, and waved.
“Hi,” said Lucy, coming up to him.
“Hi back,” he said. “You look great.”
“So do you,” she said, and was surprised to discover she meant it.
“There’s a table waiting for us on the patio; they’re filled up inside,” he said, opening the door, where wonderful smells of Mexican cooking rose up around them like an invisible hug.
One of the waiters came up to escort them through the restaurant to their table at the corner of the patio, next to a rosebush and a stand of lavender. There was an umbrella that shaded most of the table beneath it.
“Coffee? Orange juice? Tomato juice?” the waiter asked.
“Orange juice,” said Lucy.
“Me, too,” said Ben. “And guacamole to start with.”
They took the menus the waiter proffered, and got down to the serious business of choosing what they wanted for brunch. By the time the waiter returned, Lucy had chosen the small size breakfast nachos with mango salsa, chicken, and cheese, and Ben had settled on the Mexican omelet. The waiter brought them their drinks and guacamole with chips, took their orders, and disappeared.
“So how did things go last night? You look a lot better today.”
Lucy thought about her answer. “I had some weird dreams, but nothing awful.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah." She sipped her orange juice and gave a slow smile. “It is.”
He put his napkin in his lap. “You ready for the initiation?" He used a chip to scoop out guacamole from the shallow bowl it came in.
“I hope so,” she answered, and did the same.
“You have any idea what it might be like?”
“Not really." She had a bit more orange juice.
“So what do you think about becoming one of the Gothic Geeks?"
“I guess I’m pleased,” she said slowly. “I think it’s cool.”
“Me, too." He moved his chair a little closer to the table, braced his elbows between his place setting, and leaned forward. “They’re going to give us names, you know.”
“So I understand.”
“You have any idea what yours might be? Or mine?”
She could tell he was nervous but doing his best to hide it. “Well, Tom and Curtis are Techwhizards, and Bruce was throwing around some of the others, but I wasn’t paying attention — so who knows what they have in mind for us.”
“That’s what makes me wonder,” Ben said with a hint of a laugh.
“No kidding,” said Lucy.
They both had more orange juice and guacamole, and agreed that the roses and lavender were nice to look at and to smell. The party at the table next to theirs sang Happy Birthday to Logan. They talked a little about their plans for their summer, and what classes they’d be taking in the fall. They had started to talk about TV shows when the waiter brought their food, giving them both an excuse to be quiet as they ate.
When Ben was almost finished with his omelet, he said, “In case you were in doubt, the check’s mine.”
“You don’t have to,’ said Lucy, and crunched on a corn chip laden with cheese, chopped scallions, and sour cream.
“Yes, I do. I invited you." This time when he smiled, he looked almost relaxed.
“Okay,” said Lucy. “Thanks.”
“And maybe we could try this again?" There was so much hope in his face that Lucy was touched.
“Let me think about it,” she said, an unwelcome vision of Nate coming into her mind.
“That’s not a no in a nice disguise, is it?" Ben asked, clearly trying to hold on to so
me optimism.
“No, it’s not a no,” said Lucy, taking a last, crunchy bite of her nachos.
The Foster’s garage was hung with purple and black streamers, and decorated with toy bats and wolfman action figures. A large vat of blood-red punch sat on the central table, as well as a plate of chocolate cookies, and there was a worn, dark-red carpet on the concrete floor.
Tom, in black jeans, black turtleneck, and a black vest, opened the door when Lucy knocked. Behind him stood Curtis, looking like a ninja, Niki in black leggings and a gorgeous black, hand-knit sweater with a big, drapey cowl neck. Behind her was Spencer in very dark camo-gear, then Bruce in black jeans, a red t-shirt under a black duster, and with a black beret set askew on his head. Aaron hadn’t arrived yet.
“Pretty bright for Gothic Geeks,” said Spencer. “But there’s no hard rules about black, or I couldn’t belong.”
“Come on in,” said Niki, giving Tom a gentle shove so that Lucy and Ben could enter.
Bruce edged up to Lucy and turned as if to whisper in her ear. “I’d be willing to try one of your experiments if we could work on it together.”
Lucy went still, then said, “You’re trying to get me out of the Geeks, aren’t you?”
“Hey, no,” said Bruce, wholly unaware of the indignation increasing around him. “I’m thinking me for left brain, you for right. We could make a wonking team, couldn’t we?”
“Leave it alone, Bruce,” said Niki.
Tom moved next to Bruce and laid a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough. If Lucy’s interested, she’ll let you know,”
Bruce bit his lower lip and stepped away from Tom. “If she’s playing hard to get, she’ll be sorry,” he muttered.
“This is going to be off-putting if it keeps on,” said Ben.
Spencer folded his arms. “Can we get on with the initiation?”
“As soon as Aaron gets here,” said Tom calmly.
Bruce chuckled. “You may have to wait a long time. I don’t think he’s coming.”
“He hasn’t told me that,” said Tom.
“Why should he?" Bruce countered, and then made a disgusted face. “He said he’s got better things to do.”
“He told you this?" Curtis asked.
“He did,” said Bruce, sounding smug.
“What about you?" Spencer inquired much too politely. “You got anything better to do?”
“Maybe. We’ll see." He gave Lucy a smarmy wink, and went to the sofa. “So we might as well get started.”
Niki came over to Lucy and moved her toward the far end of the central table. “You stand here.”
Tom pointed to a place opposite Lucy for Ben to stand. “Strategizer?” he said, addressing Spencer.
Spencer brought a kind of cap made out of old CDs, small floppies, and a couple of cables which he placed on Ben’s head. “Welcome, fellow Strategizer,” he intoned, and held out his hand for Ben to shake. “From the beginnings of Geekdom to the limits of virtual reality, be a Gothic Geek.”
“Thanks,” said Ben, energetically shaking Spencer’s hand.
“Here you and I are Strategizers."
“Strategizers,” Tom and Curtis declared. “Welcome." And they, too, shook hands with Ben.
Niki brought out a similar cap for Lucy and placed it on her head. “Since you have expertise that none of the rest of us have, our Nomenclatutrix Cavanaugh, who will be here again in July, declared that your Geek name should be unlike the rest of ours. Therefore, I, Ramificatrix Martinu, welcome you, Arcane Wisdome." She held out her hand and Lucy took it. “From the beginning of Geekdom, to the limits of virtual reality, be a Gothic Geek,”
“Thank you,’ said Lucy, contemplating her Geek name: Arcane. She decided she liked it.
“Arcane Wisdome,” Tom and Curtis chanted, “Welcome." They came around the table to shake her hand.
Lucy smiled. “Arcane Wisdome,” she repeated. “I like it.”
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
A professional writer for more than forty years, Yarbro has sold over eighty books, more than seventy works of short fiction, and more than three dozen essays, introductions, and reviews. She also composes serious music. Her first professional writing – in 1961-2 – was as a playwright for a now long-defunct children’s theater company. By the mid-60s she had switched to writing stories and hasn’t stopped yet.
After leaving college in 1963 and until she became a full-time writer in 1970, she worked as a demographic cartographer, and still often drafts maps for her books, and occasionally for the books of other writers.
She has a large reference library with books on a wide range of subjects, everything from food and fashion to weapons and trade routes to religion and law. She is constantly adding to it as part of her on-going fascination with history and culture; she reads incessantly, searching for interesting people and places that might provide fodder for stories.
In 1997 the Transylvanian Society of Dracula bestowed a literary knighthood on Yarbro, and in 2003 the World Horror Association presented her with a Grand Master award. In 2006 the International Horror Guild enrolled her among their Living Legends, the first woman to be so honored; the Horror Writers Association gave her a Life Achievement Award in 2009.
A skeptical occultist for forty years, she has studied everything from alchemy to zoomancy, and in the late 1970s worked occasionally as a professional tarot card reader and palmist at the Magic Cellar in San Francisco.
She has two domestic accomplishments: she is a good cook and an experienced seamstress. The rest is catch-as-catch-can.
Divorced, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area – with two cats: the irrepressible Butterscotch and Crumpet, the Gang of Two. When not busy writing, she enjoys the symphony or opera.
Bibliography
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Anthologies and collections
APPREHENSIONS AND OTHER DELUSIONS
CAUTIONARY TALES
SIGNS & PORTENTS
TWO VIEWS OF WONDER
THE VAMPIRE STORIES OF CHELSEA QUINN YARBRO
Saint-Germain, Olivia and Madelaine titles in Historical Order
Out of the House of Life (Madelaine)
Blood Games
Roman Dusk
Burning Shadows
Dark of the Sun
A Flame in Byzantium (Olivia)
Come Twilight
Night Blooming
Better in the Dark
Crusader's Torch (Olivia)
Path of the Eclipse
Night Pilgrims
An Embarrassment of Riches
Blood Roses
A Feast in Exile
The Palace
States of Grace
Darker Jewels
A Candle for d'Artagnan (Olivia)
Mansions of Darkness
Communion Blood
A Dangerous Climate
Hotel Transylvania
Commedia della Morte
Borne in Blood
In the Face of Death (Madelaine)
Writ in Blood
Tempting Fate
Midnight Harvest
Sustenance (Not Yet Published)
Novels
AGAINST THE BROTHERHOOD
ARIOSTO:
BAD MEDICINE: see OGILVIE, TALLANT & MOON
A BAROQUE FABLE
BEASTNIGHTS
BETTER IN THE DARK
BLOOD GAMES
BLOOD ROSES
BORNE IN BLOOD
BURNING SHADOWS
A CANDLE FOR D’ARTAGNAN
CAT’S CLAW
CHARITY, COLORADO
COME TWILIGHT
COMMEDIA DELLA MORTE
COMMUNION BLOOD
CROWN OF EMPIRE
CRUSADER’S TORCH
A DANGEROUS CLIMATE
DARKER JEWELS
DARK OF THE SUN
DEATH TO SPIES
DEATH WEARS A CROWN
AN EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES
EMBASSY ROW
FALSE DAWN
A FEAST IN EXILE
FENICE
SOUL OF AN ANGEL
FIRECODE
A FLAME IN BYZANTIUM
FLOATING ILLUSIONS
THE FLYING SCOTSMAN
FOUR HORSES FOR TISHTRY
THE GODFORSAKEN
HYACINTHS
KELENE
THE ANGRY ANGEL:
THE LAW IN CHARITY
LOCADIO’S APPRENTICE:
LOST PRINCE: see THE GODFORSAKEN
THE MAKING OF AUSTRALIA Number 5: THE OUTBACK
MANSIONS OF DARKNESS
MIDNIGHT HARVEST
MONET’S GHOST
A MORTAL GLAMOUR
MUSIC WHEN SWEET VOICES DIE: Reprint: as FALSE NOTES
NAPOLEON MUST DIE
NIGHT BLOOMING
NIGHT PILGRIMS
OGILVIE, TALLANT & MOON: Reprint: as BAD MEDICINE
OUT OF THE HOUSE OF LIFE
THE PALACE: PATH OF THE ECLIPSE
POISON FRUIT
ROMAN DUSK
THE SCOTTISH PLOY
SINS OF OMISSION
STATES OF GRACE
TAJI’S SYNDROME
A TASTE OF WINE
TEMPTING FATE
TIME OF THE FOURTH HORSEMAN
TO THE HIGH REDOUBT
TROUBLE IN THE FOREST vol I: A Cold Summer Night
TROUBLE IN THE FOREST vol II: A Bright Winter Sun: .
WRIT IN BLOOD:
Electronic publication
ALAS, POOR YORICK : a fool’s tale
IN THE FACE OF DEATH
MAGNIFICAT
Non-fiction
CONFRONTATION AT LEPANTO
EMPIRES, WARS, AND BATTLES: The Middle East
MESSAGES FROM MICHAEL
MICHAEL FOR THE MILLENNIUM
MICHAEL’S PEOPLE
MORE MESSAGES FROM MICHAEL