As s.p.a.ce opened around her, she felt the whispering of motion. Attention turned to her, waiting to see what she would do next.

I myself, spirit in flesh, sing to you.

Thought disappeared from words into being, and she felt her body go limp. Her impulse was to struggle, keep her strength. She resisted the impulse, and let herself fall into being. Attention focused on her more keenly as she fell.

I myself, spirit in flesh, say yes. My people, come to me.

The skin of the night stretched out around her, into the shape of what she had always been, the one she shared soul with. Those eyes, a golden holocaust, met hers, welcoming her home.

The skin of the night took her back to that place she had issued from and she felt her birth with those eyes, that skin around her. Felt her birth in fire and singing. Knew the places she had sailed the air and earth and all the skimming laughter of those journeys. She understood the language of this wordless song.

Knew the origin of her clearest eyes, her abundant voice, her killing hand.

We are here, the Old one said. You have need of this.

Yes, she said. Yes.

Old friend, sending her knowledge wordless and direct. Something so old it had never been named. Speaking in the language of fur rippling along a spine. The language of scent and moon song, telling her things. The oldest friend she had poured through her and she poured through it, into the realm of spirit where she would walk now.

She would know the scent of the moon. The knowledge of trees. The heart of the earth. Grace falling like stars into her and into her and into her. Body brought back to spirit. Spirit in flesh, flesh in spirit, walking in her power. Walking in beauty. Walking in a word that had no translation, but meant beauty and power and they were the same.

You will walk here, the Old one said.

Yes, she replied. Yes. I will.

Wordless agreement seeped into her. The night folded back on itself, returned her to normal s.p.a.ce and time, to normal body and thought, and she lay naked on the bedroom floor, with the light of the moon shining on her face, and the new skin she wore invisible, even to her.

She lay still a moment, feeling the cellular tingling of ecstasy. This art was an ecstatic one. It would give her a joy almost as dangerous as lovea"the kind that made her forget all need for safety or self-protection. But unlike love, it would protect her while she wasnat looking. Still, her body would take a beating from it. Tomorrow she would ache all over.

aHecate,a she murmured, and she sat up. She turned her wrists and ankles, felt at her joints, and pressed her hands against her organs. Everything seemed to be working. And she was Jaguar again. Not hiding. Not holding back. Not needing to. From here on in, shead be led. The chant-shape would stay folded around her, and whenever it was right, she would walk within it. The only trouble was, she didnat necessarily get to decide when that occurred.

This gift was yours only if you relinquished control. That was the paradox of chant-shaping. You let go of the need to do and know, in return for the chance to be.

And how, she wondered, could she do that in this unsacred s.p.a.ce?

This art was reserved for the most contained of ritual settings, and never sustained for more than a few days. It was about a world of spirits, about needing to jump the track from normal to liminal s.p.a.ce and let the spirits take you for a ride. Jaguar took that world for granted as a normal part of life. Once a year at Thirteen Streams, Jaguar a.s.sumed the chant shape and wandered the realm of spirit to gather visions and bring them back to the people of that village. But here at the University, she wouldnat have the safety of the village, or Jake and One Birdas presence to help her if she fell in too far and couldnat find her way back. It was an ecstatic art, but it wasnat an easy one to practice. Shead never done so alone.

In chant-shape, she had to breathe in energies the human body wasnat built to sustain or contain. She would relinquish conscious control for that power, which would be directed only by the deepest workings of the truth. That power could batter the body that carried it. And acting only according to the truth of the heart was a dangerous way to live. Especially here. She had no idea if shead be able to carry on her normal tasks. Could she continue teaching? Would the spirit she shared soul with let her? Or would she start taking bites out of the bloodless legs of the academy, end up arrested or disgraced or dead?

And, she said to herself, what are your options?

She stood, found her legs steady enough, and went to the window, pressed her hand against the cool gla.s.s. No matter what happened in the chant-shape, it would be better than what was happening without it. She would welcome the spirits. Thank them.

They were here to save her life.

She breathed deeply, in and out, making room for what would become. As she felt the hum of energy rising around and within her, she let her voice rise and fall in the twining and spiraling chant of her people.

Her song would wind through the room all night, and it would start with the greeting to grandmother moon, who had somehow heard the whispering questions of her heart, and sent her what she needed.

7.

BRAD SAT IN EMILY RAINERaS OFFICE, AS nervous as he was in first grade when he was called up to the board to do math. Something about this woman reminded him of his first-grade teacher, come to think of it. She smiled nice enough, but her eyes seemed ready to see any mistake almost before it happened.

He cleared his throat. aI was wondering,a he said, aif you could tell me about your course.a aUndergraduate, I a.s.sume?a she asked. aIam teaching two.a aWell,a he said in his most friendly way, awhy donat you tell me about both?a She handed him two pieces of paper. aThese are the syllabi,a she said, and leaned back in her chair, eyeing him like he was a lab specimen. As he read the syllabi, Brad was relieved that this was all for show. All for report. That he didnat really have to take a cla.s.s with her under any circ.u.mstances. Most of the words he read looked like English, but they didnat read like it. English didnat normally have so many hyphens and slashes, and what was a aculturally (de)constructed/rehypothesized norma anyway?

He had come to see her at Steveas advice, who had declared her trustworthy. In Steveas terminology, that meant she was against the empathic arts course. In fact, at the Private Sanctions meeting Brad attended, head handed out a list of faculty names divided according to where each professor stood on the issue, along with a shorter list of faculty who were believed to be practicing empaths. The list was in alphabetical order, which is why, Brad supposed, Jaguaras name was at the top.

Other than that, the meeting was a lot of hooey, Brad thought. Kids trying to act big. Head like to put them on the Planetoid for a week and see if they felt so big after that. Or felt so sure they knew what was right. It was one thing to pump up your ego sending anonymous memos and plastering walls with rude graffiti, and another to really look at the way something worked, where it was working.

But head gotten some useful information out of it. He already had a good report for Alex, and if this meeting went well, head have an excellent one. Head insinuated to Steve that he had a friend who needed help. Someone getting involved in that mind stuff, and where could you go for advice on that. That was when Steve told him to see Emily. She might be able to guide him.

Brad handed her back the syllabi. aThis is very interesting,a he said.

aThree-forty is closed,a she noted, aand besides, thatas for people wh.o.a.re interested in doing some real research. Upper-level students.a Not, her words implied, snot-nosed puppies like him. If this went on, he thought, he could see getting angry about it, even if it was for show. aAnd 240 is a required course for majors. It fills up fast.a She smiled at him in a friendly way.

Okay. She didnat want him nohow. So, move on. He a.s.sumed an expression of proper humility. aThatas too bad,a he said. aI heard it was a great course. Do you keep a waiting list?a She relented under flattery and handed him a pen, pointed toward the wall behind him. aPut your name and ID there. Show up the first day of cla.s.s, and Iall see what I can do.a He stood and did so. aThatas great. I hope I can get in. I mean, Iam new here, but everyone tells me how much they love your course. And thereas another one they keep talking about. Intro to world religions. Dr. Addams teaches it. Do you know her?a Her expression consolidated itself briefly into anger and was quickly recontained.

aI know her,a Professor Rainer said, not friendly, but not unfriendly. Just informational. aSheas temporary. She wonat be here in the spring.a aOh,a Brad said. aUrn, Professor, I have another question, but it doesnat have to do with cla.s.s. Another studenta"Steve Haiguea"he said youad be able to help me out.a Her attention shifted at Steveas name. She put on her listening face. Brad sat back down, put his hands on his knees, and stared at them. aItas about Private Sanction. Steve said if I wanted aa"uma"deeper involvement in the issue, youad be able to steer me right.a aAs a faculty member, Iam not personally involved in student organizations, though Iam aware of the issues surrounding something like Private Sanctions, and do my own work as I see fit.a aSure,a Brad said. aSure.a She breathed in and out deeply. aHow deep an involvement do you want, and of what nature?a she asked.

aItasa"for a friend,a he said.

aA friend?a aThatas right. Iam worried abouta"her. Sheas been doing things. Trying things. With her mind. I think she needs help. Steve said you know someone around here who can help.a Emily looked over her shoulder at his name and ID number, written on her waiting list. aBrad,a she said, athatas a very delicate situation, and it takes a great deal of experience and discretion to deal with it. Youare aware of that?a He swallowed hard and nodded vigorously.

Emily said nothing for a long while while her hard eyes nailed themselves to his face. He held eye contact with her, hoping he looked sincere and stalwart. Then she wheeled her chair away from him.

aIall see what I can find out for you,a she said abruptly. aIf it seems feasible, someone will contact you.a Understanding that head been dismissed, Brad stood up, shook his pant legs down, and left.

Jaguar drew up the collar of her wool coat, and wrapped her purple woolen scarf around her head as she walked down the line of stores and boutiques, carrying a bag that contained both her favorite material and some of her favorite colors. Loose-fitting sage-green pants and top, batiked with dancing salamanders in fiery orange. Tight black jeans, black turtleneck, and a pair of black leather boots. She was as content as a hunter hoisting a twelve-point buck, and didnat even care that the sage green would tag her as an empath.

Halloween had turned the corner into November, with ice that might become snow, might become rain. Icy pellets bit at her face, and she felt them, but they didnat bother her either.

The chant-shape was moving in and around her with a surge of energy. The feeling of it was better than drink. Better than s.e.x. Well, better than any s.e.x shead had so far, at any rate.

She lowered her head and walked on, b.u.mping into a young woman and stopping to apologize.

aClumsy of me,a she said, then looked at the face. aOh. h.e.l.lo, Katia. What brings you out walking on a day like this?a Katiaa smiled nervously and stepped back. aWindow-shopping,a she said. aThereas a really cool pair of boots in the window at that French boutique. I keep hoping the priceall go down.a aThe joys of the student budget.a Jaguar smiled, remembering that herself. Then, on an impulse, aI was just about to get a cup of coffee. Want to join me?a Katia looked around nervously. As if shead like to, but didnat want anyone to see her. aSure,a she said, aI guess. Thereas this little place right up a few stores. They have good waffles, too.a They found seats easily since it was postlunch hour, and after theyad picked from the menu, they sat and sipped at their mugs of steaming coffee.

aYouare a junior, arenat you?a Jaguar asked.

aYes. I graduate next year. My friends from home thought I couldnat do it.a aAre you from around here?a Katia shook her head, dark curly hair bouncing around the frame of her pretty face. aIam from this really small town like right across the Canadian border. Itas likea" well, everyone was really shocked when I said I was going to college. Why not be a data coder? they said. Thereare lots of jobs in that.a She laughed.

aYou know,a Jaguar said, awhat theyare really saying is that theyall miss you if you go. They know that even if you come back, youall be different, and thatas frightening.a Katiaas expression darkened. aI always was different. Thatas why I left in the first place.a Jaguar made her face inquisitive, in a detached and teacherly way. aDifferent?a she asked.

aOh, you know. Couldnat fit in. Justa"I donat know. I had friends, and we did lots of fun stuff together, but what they thoughta"a She broke off. Nervous again.

Jaguar felt the motion of a song inside her, telling her things. Knowledge would come to her that way in the chant-shape, wordless and direct, unexpected. Katia was an unpracticed empath. Young and alone. Afraid of herself, with n.o.body to tell her that her gifts were natural and could be directed. n.o.body to teach her how to use them.

As the information moved through her, she saw that Katia was frowning at her. She took a good breath, and smiled. Try and stay in the world, she told herself. Give it your best shot.

aYou live very close to the Mohawk reservation?a she asked.

aOh yeah,a Katia said, shrugging the moment off. aMy mother was from there. Sheas part Mohawk. She had some relatives there, so we used to spend time, although my mother was kind of funny about it. I guess she couldnat decide where she lived. You know, like in her heart?a aI know,a Jaguar said. aNot sure where you fit in. You must enjoy Professor Peltieras course.a aSure,a Katia said, going underground. aHeas teaching me a lot.a Maybe she wasnat so unpracticed after all. Maybe she had practiced when young, then, as so often happened with girls in adolescence, had given it up. Too much power. Scary. Time to change the subject.

aAnd way up north there,a she asked, adid you ever see the northern lights?a Katia smiled. aArenat they the best? I took Steve out once, and he even liked them.a aNow, that is truly amazing,a Jaguar noted, grinning.

aI guessa"well, Steveas wonderful, but you see how he gets tense.a aIt happens,a she said. aPeople get tense when they donat understand.a aYeah.a Katia sighed, then ducked her head down to her coffee cup, took a sip, looked up at Jaguar with a mixture of apprehension and daring. aI was wondering. Do you have, you know, like, someone youare seeing. I mean, maybe I shouldnat ask, but I wasa"I guess we all wondered about that.a Jaguar, not sure if Katia was referring to a ritual elder or a doctor or a lover, tilted her head quizzically. aItas okay. You can ask, Katia. Only, you have to use a few more nouns.a Katia laughed and leaned back in her chair, keeping her coffee cup held protectively against her chin.

aLike, a man youare seeing,a she tried tentatively.

aNot a woman?a Jaguar asked mischievously.

aWell, we thoughta"I mean, you seema"well, it doesnat matter, either way. Itas just that everyone sees how beautiful you are, and some of the kids think youare here, you know, getting away from someone. Like there was someone up there.a Someone up there, Jaguar thought, forcing her lips to curl back on the smile they were trying to form. Alex appeared unbidden in her thoughts, his dark eyes blazing at her. She shook him away, and saw that Katia was regarding her with sympathy.

aIs he handsome?a she asked.

She opened her mouth to say no. Itas not like that. But the words that fell out when she spoke werenat those at all.

aYes,a she said, aVery handsome. Dark hair with silver in it. Dark eyes. Tall, and broad across the shoulders. His facea"itas one of the oldest Iave ever seen.a aThatas good?a Katia asked uncertainly.

aI mean old as in from another time. From the beginning of time.a Jaguar told herself to stop talking. Shut up, dammit. Just donat say anything if you canat make sense. But when she saw the look of supreme satisfaction on Katiaas face, she felt relief. Shead given them all something else to talk about. Something to take their minds off empaths and Planetoid workers.

aWhat do the other kids think, Katia? The ones who arenat writing romance novels.a Katia returned from her reverie and shrugged off their opinion even before stating it. aDonat worry about them. Theyare just conservatives.a Okay. That was pretty clear. aAnd youare not?a aI think people should just be who they are. As long as youare not hurting anyone, what does it matter, right?a This said with dark intensity. Jaguar waited, hoping silence would encourage her to say more. It did.

aI mean, some people get all over me because I spend time with my professors. Witha"Professor Peltier or Professor Davis. But why shouldnat I?a aI donat know,a Jaguar said. aWhy shouldnat you?a aThereas no reason. Just because they get this thing going about the Gone Girls. Thereas no evidence. Steve and I had this sort of argument about it. He thinksa"a She broke off abruptly, and Jaguar waited for some time before she realized that the girlas words had stopped completely. Katia picked up a packet of sugar and ripped it open, dabbed her finger onto it, and licked.

Jaguar reached across the table and stopped her hand. aRot your teeth, girl,a she said.

And in the touch, she felt the fear. Fear of her own art. Empath anda"something else. Some other energy moving in her. She feared it.

Katia pulled her hand back. aSteve thinks Professor Peltieras a cloaked empath. I told Steve he was wrong,a she said definitively. aBecause he isnat hurting anyone. And empathsa"it hurts, Dr. Addams. They hurt people.a Jaguar marveled at the statement. aWho told you that?a Katia shrugged. aLots of people. And thereas Steveas dada"I guess his dad left. Went off with some guru and said he had to be himself. Said he could see things. Then, he killed himself.a That went a long way to explaining Steve, Jaguar thought. And of course Katia, having her own fears, would be drawn to his, which were at least easily named. aBut that doesnat mean he was an empath, Katia. Maybe he was ill, or just confused.a Katiaas face grew dark, and she leaned back into herself. aHow do you know the difference?a Now, there was a question. Jaguar was so used to seeing the exotic as normal that she forgot what it meant to ask that question. Or maybe she had been taught her art at such an early age by people who knew how to do it so well that she had answered it long since. Katia didnat have that advantage.

aYou know by the feel of it, Katia,a she said. She put a hand to her temple and rubbed. aWhen somethingas wrong, you feel it, and you trust that even if it all looks good. And when somethingas right, you feel that, too, and you trust that even if it all looks a little off.a Katia scanned her, looking hard, eyes glittering. aYou mean you figure it out?a aNo. Itas like I said in cla.s.s. You learn the difference between the smell of truth, and the smell of s.h.i.t.a Katiaas hand twisted around her cup and held it hard. aWhat if you donat know? What if you canat tell? What if youarea"confused?a Jaguar looked at her hard, saw her eyes glittering. She was confused and afraid. Jaguar instinctively reached out to soothe her, reached out with her mind to say itas okay. It takes practice and if you get it wrong youall learn to put it right. Without thinking, she opened.

No. Stay away. Stay back.

Her vision turned double, blurred, went out entirely. She breathed in, pulled into herself. A flock of hands, reaching for her, fluttering around her. Tightness in her neck, around her eyes. Then, the soft feel of night falling into her, around her. Old friend, standing guard.

aDr. Addams?a Katia was saying, and Jaguar saw her. aYou okay?a aFine,a she said quickly, recovering herself. Strong stuff here. Strong stuff in Katia. aI was just thinking about what you asked.a aOh. Oh. Well. I mean, itas nothing really.a aNo,a Jaguar said. aItas an important question. I think if youare confused, the best you can do is wait for the confusion to clear.a aWhat if it doesnat?a Katia asked.

aOh, it will,a Jaguar a.s.sured her. aOne way or another, because everything changes.a aAnd what do you do in the meantime?a aStay alive, and await further instructions.a Katia turned her cup around in her hand, examining the motion of the liquid left in the cup. She wanted something more. Jaguar wished she had something more to offera"to Katia, and to herself. But she didnat.

aIad better get back to campus,a she said. aThereas a general faculty meeting tonight and Iam told I have to be there. You remember weare not meeting in the cla.s.s this Thursday, right?a aOh. Yes. I remember. Weare meeting at Cutters Bar and Grill, at seven.a aThatas right.a She wanted these kids to do some fieldwork. Connect their intellects to the world, starting with what they knew best. aShould be a nice break,a she said.

aItasa"different,a Katia agreed.

aJust another ritual, Katia,a Jaguar said, standing and putting her coat on. aLike faculty meetings, only a little more fun.a And about that, she was right. The meeting was a boring recitation of budget issues and procedural emendations that meant nothing to anyone outside of administration. Jaguar noticed that Emily was conspicuous in her absence. Sheas ill, someone said. The flu.

More like a sudden attack of wisdom, Jaguar thought.

After the meeting, Ethan helped her on with her coat and slipped her wool scarf over her shoulders. aThat was dull,a he said. aCan I make it up to you with a good dinner?a He placed his hands under her hair and lifted it carefully from her coat collar, smoothing it across her shoulders. She kept her back to him and bit down on her lower lip to still the frisson that ran along her spine. Such a lovely gesture. Intimate and courteous at the same time.

He would be a skilled bed partner, she thought, and her body was calling to her. Wanting touch. Wanting the kind of touch he promiseda"intellectual and cool and practiced, with a minimum of emotions that could slip like diamonds to the bottom of a wind-tossed lake.

And why shouldnat she have what she wanted? There was nothing stopping her from that. No prisoners. No Board governors looking over her shoulder like old ladies. No disapproving glances or comments from ex-Supervisors.

aThat is,a Ethan said, aif youare free.a aIam free,a she said. aAs always.a Professor Davisas house was high-ceilinged, old, and filled with wood. That, at least, was Jaguaras first impression. The wood, she thought, made the house seem dark. A fireplace crackled in the living room, causing the soft shadows to leap about the room, but everything else seemed very still, as if it had been still for a long time. She noticed that alongside his shelf of modern disks, there were two shelves filled with books. Everything from Homer to Poe, Parrish and Maclean, Ramjerdi and Davidson for fiction and poetry. Then a large section of the philosophers, next to a wide array of scientific tomes. Grayas Anatomy. Phelpsas Neuroanatomy. Oxford Unabridged Encyclopedia of Neurophysiology.

aAn eclectic library,a she said to him.

aI like to know everything,a he said. aAt least, everything I can know.a He served her a delicate and well-planned dinner of veal Marsala and risotto with asparagus, good bread, and good wine. As they ate, they talked books, and food, and winter weather. Nothing important. Just the most pleasant surface items on the agenda. She was glad of that.

They didnat even talk about school until they got to the after-dinner wine, and were seated in front of the fire.

aHave your students been behaving for you?a he asked.

aBehaving? None of my students behave. I donat encourage it.a He laughed lightly. aI remember you said something about Steve being a pest. Is he still?a aStevena"heas different.a aIf heas a problem, I can talk to him. I have some influence,a he said, pouring more wine into her gla.s.s.

She swirled the wine around, watching the patterns that formed and dispersed along the sides of the iridescent gla.s.s. aAnd heall listen?a she asked. aIt doesnat seem to be his strong point.a Ethan stopped pouring into his own gla.s.s and raised his eyebrows at her. aMy dear, he quotes you so frequently I a.s.sume heas listening much more closely to you than he is to me.a So. They had discussed her. Not much surprise there. aI can imagine what he says.a He finished pouring his wine and joined her on the couch. She found couch conversations uncomfortable, because it was difficult to turn properly to see the full face of the person you were talking to. She had read somewhere that men preferred side-to-side talk, because face-to-face signaled confrontation to them. As she thought about this, she realized that the only man who ever asked for her full face was Alex. But then again, he was an empath.

aSteven,a Ethan was saying, looking ahead rather than at her, so that she could only see his cla.s.sically sculpted profile, awould like to live in a totally rational world, based on a totally rational system of order.a aIam very rational,a Jaguar interposed. aWhat I tell him is absolutely reasonable.a He held a hand out, aNo,a he said. aYouare integrated. Emotionally and intellectually, and I suppose youad call it spiritually, too. Thatas rational, but itas more than rational, too. Steven wants the rational. Thatas all.a aIs that why heas so invested in the antiempath movement?a she asked, keeping her voice neutral.

aProbably.a Ethan turned his face to her and smiled. aEmotions in general terrify him. Thatas one reason why heas so terrified of you.a In the low lighting of the room, the shadows were soft and diffuse, merging with his eyes that had gone deep blue. She saw nothing of the empath in their surface or their depth. He was a very physical man, she thought, but not a man of pa.s.sionate emotion. Always cool and self-possessed. Perhaps thatas why Steven was drawn to him. Perhaps thatas why she was, too.

aIam not sure I understand,a she said.

aYou donat?a She shook her head.

aJaguar, heas got a crush on you. His physical desire terrifies him as much as his emotions. And I must say, for all his problems, Steven has a very good eye.a Jaguar lifted her gla.s.s and took a long sip. Somehow, that hadnat occurred to her.

Ethan chuckled. aI wish you could see yourself right now. I believe itas the first time Iave ever seen you fl.u.s.tered. But now Iave made you aware of it, and youave closed down again. Youare very good at staying closed, arenat you?a Her hand jerked, and wine spilled onto her wrist. Ethan grabbed a napkin from the table and made a swipe at her wrist. She pulled back quickly, spilling more wine. She didnat want him to see the gla.s.s knife. Didnat want him to feel it under her sleeve. Suddenly felt unsafe.

No contact. Stay closed. No contact.

She stood and went over to the fire, wiping the wine from her wrist into it and watching it sizzle in response. Ethan stood and joined her.

aHere,a Ethan said, handing the napkin to her. aPlease. I didnat mean to intrude in any way.a She took it from him and mopped at her sleeve, then smiled apologetically. aSorry,a she said. aItas justa"I didnat know how to take your question. There seems to be so much suspicion about someone whoas from the Planetoids.a Ethan grinned. aWould you be relieved if I told you my interests are merely and only lascivious?a She grinned back. aProbably. If that was the truth.a He lifted a hand to her hair and stroked at it lightly. aI believe youad rather go to bed with me than talk to me,a he murmured. aHow unusual for a woman.a aMaybe,a she said, ayouave been hanging around with the wrong women.a And then his doorbell rang.

An expression very like rage pa.s.sed over his face and was quickly traded in for his usual cool reserve. Talk about your closed books, she thought.

aArenat you going to answer that?a she asked.

He scratched at his head. aTo be honest, I think I know who it is, and Iad rather not.a A face appeared in the living-room window, then disappeared.

The doorbell rang again. Oh well, she thought. Oh well.