A sour twist of loathing constricted his heart and, with it, certainty of all the ways in which he knew he was destined to fail. All the ways he was bound to hurt any innocent souls unlucky enough to be foisted by destiny into his care and keeping. What right did a man like him have in even contemplating such a role? It was a hopeless notion. His own father had taught him nothing but frustration and disappointment and disdain. Did he really fancy himself superior to Alfred P. Grimm? Did he really think he could do any better? Stained by the Dire, stained by the sins of his youth as he was. The very idea was laughable. Pathetic. Terrifying.
But Luna continued to watch him, her dark eyes solemn, her mouth just a few inches above the water into which she had sunk. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, her arms making little waves where she floated.
Then, in a very soft voice, she murmured, “I think you’re more nurturing than you realize.”
Something happened then which, in retrospect, Nigel never could fully explain.
It was as though a veil descended over his vision—a gauzy haze through which the world was suddenly indistinct, and all the sounds came echoing from far away. He heard giggles, manic screams of laughter, and saw the flickering shadows of children running, scampering, splashing.
One voice shrieked so close to his ear, he actually flinched:“Daddy, I found a turtle, and Alfie says he’s gonna et it!”
This was followed by another voice, also sweet and young, but a little deeper than the first.“No, I didn’t! I said maybe a crocodile was gonna et it!”
Nigel turned his head sharply, trying to make sense of this strange reality. He caught a glimpse of the sunbathing platform opposite him, only now there seemed to be a lawn chair there, where there certainly wasn’t one a moment ago. The phantom-like image of a woman lounged in the sunlight. He couldn’t see her clearly—she was more vapor than anything. But he could tell that she cradled a little blonde tot in her arms, and her figure was exquisitely plump and maternal, and her dark curls were pinned up off her neck.
The next moment, a small body struck him in the shoulder. Nigel whipped his head about, but still couldn’t see more than an impression of movement, a pulsating lifeforce, very real, but strangely distant and removed. Something was plunked into his hands, and he thought he felt dampness. And scales.
“Daddy, look at my turtle!”a lisping voice demanded.“What’s her name?”
And Nigel heard a voice which sounded something like his own and which seemed to emerge from his own lips. Only it was so very far away.“I’m not sure, Loni. Mummy’s better at naming things.”
“Oh, go on, Handsome.”The woman on the sunbathing platform tilted her sunglasses, but the glare of unreality blockedher face from his view. He heard her voice clearly enough, however. A voice he knew so very well.“Give it your best shot!”
“All right.”Nigel turned the object in his hands, which he still could not see. But he felt tiny claws pressed against the edge of his palm. And beside him, the radiant force of two, large, trusting eyes filled his awareness.“Is it a boy turtle or a girl turtle?”
“Girl!”the lisping voice answered at once.
“How do you know?”the second, deeper child’s voice protested, and Nigel distinctly heard splashing and felt the approach of another phantom he could not quite see.“Looks like a boy to me.”
“Nu uh!”
“Nu huh!”
“Nu uh!”
“Nu huh!”
“I think your sister’s right, Alfie,”Nigel’s own voice interjected quickly.“It’s definitely a girl. You can tell by the, erm, eyelashes.”
“Where?”Two ghostly presences crowded in. The second voice protested,“I don’t see any eyelashes!”
“I do, Daddy,”the lisping voice declared loyally. He felt the pressure of a little body leaning against his arm.“What’s her name? What’s her name?”
“Well, I don’t think there can be any doubt in the matter. This is the Grand Royal Dutchess, Turtlina Von Turtlesburg.”
“Tur-Turtle-eena?”
“Von Turtlesburg.”
The little phantom face upturned to his. He couldn’t see it, but felt the beaming smile like a blast of sunlight warming his very soul.“Gank you, Daddy! I’m going to call her Turtley for short.”The crawling, scaly thing was removed from his grasp the next moment, and Nigel listened to the sounds of splashing, andthose little voices retreating into the haze.“Come on, Alfie! Let’s play mermaids, and Turtley is our baby!”
“Wait up, Loni!”
Nigel cast a last look across the pool to where the beautiful woman watched him, grinning from behind her sunglasses. The impression of her had already faded to almost nothing. In another blink, she was gone.
Dragging in a sharp breath, Nigel closed his eyes, turned his head to one side, then gave it a firm shake. The sounds and sensations of the vision faded fast, echoing away into some strange, half-glimpsed, parallel reality, which he knew could never possibly come to pass. Not inthisreality. Not in a world where he’d made the choices he’d made, where he’d committed one too many unforgivable sins. It was nothing more than a foolish fancy. And not a very convincing one at that.
But then, he never did have any gift for scrying.
