Herta's first reaction was joyful relief. He... She opened her eyes to stare into his strangely somber face, and both emotions faded. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was missing something, obviously.
"How do you do that, Herta?" Turan asked.
"Do what?"
He shook his head, his amazement clear. "Turn your emotions off like that." He smiled slightly. "At first, you seemed pleased, and then..." he shrugged. "Then nothing. You've done it before, several times. How?"
She frowned, not sure how to answer him. An idea tickled the back of her mind and she took it out for examination.
"There. You're doing it again. I felt your confusion, your curiosity and then, nothing."
Herta stared. "You mean it works?"
"Whatever you're doing, yes, it does."
She grinned sheepishly, not wanting to admit to unusual habits. "In high school," she explained, "we had to do a report on the different forms of ESP. My report was on auras, but while I was looking for information, I ran across a self-hypnosis tape that was supposed to help develop psychic abilities." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I listened to it and started using some of the techniques to help me concentrate better."
Turan started. "That's how you resisted me in the cemetery, then."
She nodded. "I'm not sure what you were doing, but the feeling was the same as I got from the tapes. Anyway, part of the instructions were to imagine yourself in a cocoon of light. For protection, they said." She shrugged. "I modified it a bit. My cocoon is more of a cloak and I tend to do it when I'm trying to concentrate on something." She smiled. "A newspaper office isn't the quietest place in the world. I guess it's become automatic any time I don't want distractions."
Turan took her hands in his. "Or when you think people might not approve of your emotions," he ventured. "I would never hurt you, Herta. I couldn't. It would be like hurting myself."
Herta's expression turned cold, withdrawn. "No, you can't hurt me. I won't let you. But I can destroy you." She dropped her eyes for a moment and then met his gaze again. Her expression was sad. "I've done it often enough and I hate the way I feel when that happens."
Turan squeezed her hands reassuringly. He had time. "We shall see. In the meantime?"
Herta tugged her hands free and stood up. "In the meantime, I collect my stuff from Father Edmund, go find a bike and some maps and start my Walperdinger Hunt."
Turan laughed. He'd heard the stories about the supposedly endangered creature. "You're not serious, are you?" The tension between them had eased with Turan's laughter, but it hadn't disappeared. It would have to wait.
She gave him a mischievous grin. "Of course I am. You've got to admit, it's a catchier title than 'Touring Bavaria On A Bike'."
Turan stood up, shaking his head in disbelief. "Then, most certainly, that is what we shall do."
Herta stiffened.
Turan groaned inwardly, but schooled his voice to calm. "Herta, someone tried to kill us yesterday. I would rather you didn't wander off alone." He paused. "And I would like to go on this Walperdinger Hunt with you," he admitted.
Herta looked at him suspiciously. Turan? Shy? She gave up with a chuckle at his expression. "All right, all right. You win. You can come. Just give me a minute." She turned and walked toward the church, muttering about grown men who wheedled into her research time like a kid trying to wheedle cookies. She was glad of his company, though. He made her laugh. She refused to think of any other reason.
Ten minutes later, they were strolling along the outside of the park, the photograph and manila envelope safely stowed in her purse. The book could wait.
"So, where to?" Turan asked.
Herta tipped her head, mentally reviewing the article idea she had. A quick glance at her watch said it was nine-thirty. She should be back home before one. "Some place where I can get some background on the Walperdinger first, I think. And information on its habits and uses."
Turan stifled a grin. She was so serious. "Perhaps there?" He used his chin to point to a place behind her.
She whirled. "Curios?" she translated aloud.
"Why not?"
She grinned. Why not indeed? And if they could help, she wouldn't have to go back to the café and ask the waitress about it. Not today, anyway.
Two hours later, Herta, breathless with laughter, sank down on a bench. Turan sat next to her, his eyes glinting with good humour.
"That poor man," she giggled, referring to the proprietor of their last stop. "I thought he was going to choke when I asked him about Walperdingers." They had spent the morning visiting several of the shops, asking about the creature. Most shopkeepers were quite willing to help her in her search, especially when she explained her purpose. Others were not quite so amused. It happened.
She had been hard pressed to find some intelligent questions to ask, finding only three. What was the range of colours for the average Walperdinger? Was it used for clothing or food? Which was more valued, the male or the female?
Turan grinned. "I much preferred the expression on your face when you asked which gender was most prized. 'The lady is always the most prized of creatures'," he quoted one elderly shopkeeper, bowing to Herta as the man had done.
She hid her face, knowing it was turning red again. "Yes, wellâ..."
Turan chuckled. "So what are your plans for this afternoon? Would you consider having lunch with me?" His voice and manner were casual, but Herta got the impression of tension.
She shook her head. "I'd like to, Turan, but--. No, really I would," she insisted, seeing his disbelief. "But I have a deadline to meet. I've got to have two articles finished and ready to fax by tomorrow night, plus have the photos ready to go. I'm hoping I have enough to get a good start on it before the guy from the phone company arrives. Gebhardt says he may be here this afternoon or tomorrow morning. I need to ask him about an ISP, anyway."
"ISP?"
"Internet Service Provider," Herta explained.
The blank look didn't clear from Turan's face.
Herta chuckled. Talk about the blind leading the blind on this one. She didn't know much more than he did, other than how to use one. "It would take hours for me to explain, Turan. Can I get away with saying it's something I need for work?"
Turan nodded. "For now."
Herta gave him a dirty look and then laughed ruefully. "Okay, okay. When I get a couple of hours, I'll explain computers and the Internet to you."
"Thank you."
There was an awkward pause. "Well," Herta said with forced cheerfulness, "If I sit for much longer, I'll never move again. I haven't had this much exercise in a while."
Turan rose, too. "You are going to walk home?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not on your life! The bike, remember? I think I saw a bike shop down one of the streets we went by. I'll just pop over there now and ride home."
"I will go with you." Turan's voice indicated the subject wasn't open for discussion.
Herta shrugged and turned to leave. She turned back to Turan as a thought occurred to her. "Turan, how have you survived since you got here? If Hans wasn't here to sponsor youâ..."
Turan stiffened, but said nothing.
"Father Edmund," she guessed, but it wasn't a question. She thought quickly. If they went to the bankâ... No, that wouldn't do. Not a direct transfer from her account. Not yet, anyway. But maybe...? "I'll be right back." After a quick pat on Turan's arm, she raced off toward the church.
She returned about twenty minutes later, looking quite pleased with herself. Her steps faltered a bit as she caught sight of Turan's expression, but she decided he was just miffed about not being told beforehand. "Father Edmund says he can help. I gave him a check and he'll--"
"I do not need you to provide for me, Fräulein Tanner. I have a job."
Herta groaned. It was worse that. "Turan, doing odd jobs for Father Edmund is not a job, for crying out loud!"
"No, it is not. But I cannot remain here."
Herta looked stunned. "What do you mean, you can't stay?"
Turan stared down at her. "My job is to lead my people. I only came here to find you. I must return shortly to my own world."
"And us?"
"I must return. With or without you." His voice was hard.
"Oh, Turanâ..." Herta didn't know what else to say. She could feel his pain. Without thinking, she stepped closer and slid her arms around his waist.
Turan stepped back before she could lay her head against him. "No. This cannot be. You must make the choice, Fräulein. Stay or come with me."
Herta threw up her hands in disgust. "And that's it? There's no other way? No other choice? I either dump my entire life and life's work and go with you or stay here and have some lunatic try to kill me?"
"Lower your voice, Fräulein."
Herta's chin came up and her eyes narrowed. "Stuff it in your left ear, buster," she snapped and stormed off.
From inside the church, two faces looked out on the pair, Father Edmund from his office with concern and Mikhail, from the lounge with satisfaction. It would appear, he thought, that Sondra was going to have another second chance. A couple of phone calls and his plans would be back on track.
- 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 -