Нора Робертс - Key of Knowledge

“Big deal.”

“My car.”

The image of his gorgeous, muscular, classic T-Bird flashed into her mind. She had to make a conscious effort not to drool. “You fight dirty.”

He took his keys out of his pocket. And dangled them.

Her internal war lasted about three seconds before she snatched the keys out of his hand. “Let me get a jacket.”

* * *

WHATEVER his flaws, Jordan Hawke knew cars. The Thunderbird climbed the hills like a mountain cat, all sleek grace and muscle. It clung to curves and roared downstraightaways .

Some might think of it as a vehicle, others as a toy. But Dana knew it was a machine . A firstclass one.

Being behind the wheel wasnt just a sexy pleasure. It let Dana shift the situation as smoothly as she shifted gears. She was in charge now. The trip to the Peak might have been Jordans idea, but by God, she was driving.

The evening was brisk, and grew brisker yet as they climbed to higher elevations, but the top was down. She was glad to trade chilly fingers and the bite of the wind for the sheer joy of zipping along the roads in the open air.

The trees were at their peak, the force of colors made only more brilliant by the sheen of gold from the setting sun. Fallen leaves skipped and skittered across the road where light and shadow danced.

It was like driving into a story, she mused, where anything could happen around the next turn.

“Hows it handling for you?” Jordan asked her.

“Shes got style. And muscle.”

“I always thought the same about you.”

She slid her gaze in his direction, balefully, then focused on the road. However much fun she was having, it didnt mean she couldnt take a poke at him.

“I dont see why you need a car like this when you live in an urban environment where mass transit is not only readily available but efficient.”

“Two reasons. First, for those times when Im not in an urban environment, such as now. And second, I lusted after her.”

“Yeah.” She couldnt blame him. “Fifty-seven was the primo year for T-Birds.”

“No question. Ive got a 63 Stingray.”

Her eyes went glassy. “You do not.”

“Four-speed, 327. Fuel injection.”

She felt the long, liquid pull in her belly. “Shut up.”

“I had her up to 120.Shedve given me more, but we were just getting to know each other.” He waited a beat. “Ive got my eye on this very sweet Caddy convertible. Fifty-nine. Singlequadajetcarb .”

“I hate you.”

“Hey, a guys got to have a hobby.”

“The 63 Stingrays my fantasy car. The one Im going to have one day, when all my dreams come true.”

He smiled a little. “What color?”

“Black. Serious business black. Four-speed manualtranny . Doesnt have to be the 327, though thatd be the cream.Gotta be the convertible, though. The coupe just wont do.”

She fell silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the ride.

“Zoementioned youd fixed her car.”

“I stopped over. Timing was off, and thecarb needed a little work. Nothing major.”

She made herself say it. “It was a nice thing to do.”

“I had the time.” He shrugged a shoulder, stretched his legs out a little more. “Just figured she could use a hand with it.”

Suddenly she understood, and felt ashamed for her initial reaction when shed heard hed gone toZoes . The hardworking single mother, raising a young boy.

Just like his mother.

Of course hed gone by to help. “She really appreciated it,” Dana told him, but kept it light. “Especially since you dont make her nervous the way Brad does.”

“I dont? I think Im insulted and will now be honor-bound to work harder to make her nervous.”

“What kind of watch you got there?”

“Watch?” Baffled, he turned his wrist. “I dont know. It tells time.”

She shook her hair back and laughed. “Thats what I thought youd say. Sorry, youre never going to make her nervous.”

She slowed, reluctantly, as they approached the gates. Then she stopped, looking at the house through them as she dug her brush out of her purse. “Some place,” she commented, brushing out the knots and tangles the wind had tied into her hair. “You live in a place like this, you could have that classic Vette. Keep it in a big, heated garage like it deserves. I wonder ifPitte and Rowena drive.”

“Thats some segue.”

“No, really. Think about it. They are what they are, and theyve been around since way before anybody even thought about the combustible engine. They can do what they do, but has either of them ever taken driving lessons, stood in line at the DMV, haggled over insurance?”

She dropped the brush back in her purse, looked over at Jordan. His hair was as windblown as hers had been, yet, she noted, it didnt look unkempt. Just sexy.

“How do they live?” she continued. “We dont really know what they do, when it comes to ordinary things. Human things. Do they watch TV? Play canasta? Do they cruise the mall? What about friends? Do they have any?”

“If they do, thered be a regular turnover. Friends, being human, would have that annoying habit of dying.”

“Thats right.” She said it quietly as she looked back toward the house. “It must be lonely. Painfully lonely. All that power doesnt make them one of us. Living in that great house doesnt make it their home. Its weird, isnt it? Feeling sorry for gods.”

“No. Its intuitive. And just the kind of thing thats going to help you find the key. The more you know and understand them, the closer you come to figuring out your part of the puzzle.”

“Maybe.” Suddenly the iron gates swung open. “I guess thats our invitation.”

She drove, in the twilight, toward the great stone house. The old man shed come to think of as the caretaker hurried up to the car to open her door. “Welcome. Ill see to the car for you, miss.”

“Thanks.” She studied him, trying to get a gauge on his age. Seventy? Eighty? Three thousand and two? “I never got your name,” she said to him.

“Oh, Id beCaddock , miss.”

“Caddock. Is that Scots, Irish?”

“Welsh. Id be from Wales, in the original way of things, miss.”

Like Rowena, she thought. “Have you worked forPitte and Rowena long?”

“Yes, indeed.” His eyes seemed to twinkle at her. “Ive been in their service a number of years now.” He looked past her, nodded his head. “Theres a fine sight, isnt it, then?”

Dana turned, and stared at the huge buck that stood on the verge between lawn and forest. His rump seemed to glimmer white in the soft haze of twilight, and his rack shone silver.

“Traditional symbolism,” Jordan said, though he was no less struck by the bucks magnificence. “The seeker sees a white deer or hare at the start of a quest.”

“Malory saw it,” Dana murmured over the lump in her throat. “The first night we came here. But I didnt,Zoe didnt.” She walked to stand beside Jordan. “Does that mean it was already ordained that Malory would search for the first key? That it had nothing to do with the luck of the draw? That was just show?”

“Or ritual. You still had to choose to reach into the box for a disk. You decide to follow the deer, or turn away from it.”

“But is it real? Is that deer really standing over there, or are we imagining it?”

“Thats something else for you to decide.” He waited until the deer faded back into the shadows before he turned.

Both the old man and the car were gone. After the initial jolt, Jordan slid his hands into his pockets. “Youve got to admit, that is very cool.”

The entrance doors opened. Rowena stood dead center, the foyer lights spilling over her fiery hair, glinting on the long silver dress she wore. “How lovely to see you both.” She held out a hand in welcome. “I was just pining for company.”

PITTE was already in the parlor, wearing a black shirt and trousers that echoed Rowenas casual elegance.

Dana wondered if they sat around looking beautiful all the time. Something else to think about, she supposed. Like did they ever have bad hair days, indigestion, sore feet?

Or were those things too mundane for gods living in the mortal world?

“We were just enjoying the fire, and a glass of wine. Youll join us?” Rowena asked.

“Sure, thanks.” Welcoming the heat, Dana walked toward the snapping fire. “You guys hang like this every evening?

In the process of pouring wine,Pitte stopped, frowned at her. “Hang?”

“Hang out. You know, sit around in great clothes, drinking fine wine out of, what is that, Baccarat?”

“I believe it is.”Pitte finished pouring, offered the glass to Dana. “We often take an hour or so to relax together at the end of the day.”

“What about the rest of the time? Do you just putter around this place?”

“Ah. You wonder what we do to entertain ourselves.” Rowena sat, patted the cushion beside her. “I paint, as you know.Pitte spends time on our finances. He enjoys the game of money. We read. Ive enjoyed your books, Jordan.”

“Thanks.”

“Pitteenjoys films,” Rowena added with a glance of affection toward her lover. “Particularly ones where a great many things blow up in impressive explosions.”

“So you go to the movies?” Dana prompted.

“Ordinarily no. We prefer settling in at home and watching at our leisure.”

“Multiplexes,”Pitte muttered. “They call them this. Like little boxes stacked end by end. Its a pity the grand theaters have gone out of fashion.”

“Thats something youd both be up on. The changes in fashion. Thered have been a lot of that in a couple of millennia.”