Mr. D shook his head at the bartender when he was asked if he wanted something. Damn shame he couldn’t drink no more. He’d liked his SoCo. Could have used the hamburger, too. He’d loved his burgers, he really had.

“You got anything for me, Sam-dog?”

Mr. D glanced over. A big guy with a jackass smile and a dump-truck worth of ego had draped himself over the bar and was looking at the bartender. Under his black leather jacket, which had a terrific eagle embroidered on the back, he was dressed in jeans that were three sizes too big and construction boots. Around his neck were some diamond chains, and he had a flashy watch on.

Mr. D weren’t into the jewelry, but he did jones the guy’s class ring. It was yellow gold, unlike the rest of his stuff, and had a pale blue stone in the middle.

Mr. D would have liked to be graduated from high school.

The bartender came over. “I got some, yeah.” He nodded at the group of guys what had pissed off the son a little bit ago. “Told them who to look for.”

“Nice.” Big Guy took something out of his pocket and the two shook hands.

Cash, Mr. D thought.

Big Guy grinned and straightened his leather jacket, that class ring flashing bright blue. He approached the guys from the side, then turned as if he was showing them the back of his coat.

There was a hoot and holler and then a lot of hands went in pockets and palms were shook and there was some more with the pockets.

Not smooth. Other people were looking over, and it was pretty obvious that they wasn’t exchanging no business cards.

He weren’t going to last long in the business, Mr. D thought.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” the bartender asked Mr. D.

Mr. D glanced toward the bathroom Lash had taken the blonde into. “Nah, thanks. I’m just waitin’ on my friend.”

The bartender grinned. “Betcha he’s going to be a while. She looks like she gives a nice ride, that one.”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Cormia packed up everything… which wasn’t much.

Staring at the small pile of robes, prayer books, and incense burners that she’d gathered together, she realized with a curse that she’d left her rose in the office. Then again, she wouldn’t have been able to take it with her to the Sanctuary. The only things from this side that were allowed in were those of historical importance.

In the larger sense, of course.

She glanced over at her latest-her last-construction of toothpicks and peas.

She was such a hypocrite, criticizing the Primale for seeking strength in separation, when what was she doing? Leaving this world that challenged her so, with the intention of seeking a seclusion that was even deeper than the one she’d had before as a Chosen.

Tears came into her eyes-

The knock on her door was soft.

“One moment!” she called out, trying to calm herself. When she finally went over and answered the door, her eyes widened and she pulled the lapels of her robe together, hiding the bite mark on her neck. “My sister?”

The Chosen Layla was on the other side, looking as lovely as ever. “Greetings.”

“Greetings, indeed.”

They exchanged lingering deep bows, which was as close to hugging as Chosen were permitted.

“Whither thou come?” Cormia asked as they straightened. “Are you to be of blood service to the Brothers Rhage and Vishous?”

Funny, the formality of her words seemed odd to her now. She’d grown used to more informal discourse. More comfortable with it.

“Indeed, I am to see the Brother Rhage.” There was a pause. “And as well I sought to inquire after you. May I come in?”

“But of course. Please avail yourself of my quarters.”

Layla entered and brought with her an awkward silence.

Ah, so the news had made it to the Sanctuary, Cormia thought. All the Chosen knew she had been passed over as First Mate.

“What is this?” Layla asked, pointing to the latticework in the corner of the room.

“Oh, it’s just a hobby.”

“Hobby?”

“When I have time on my hands, I…” Well, that was an admission of guilt, wasn’t it. She should have been praying if she had nothing else to do. “Anyway…”

Layla didn’t cast condemnation in expression or words on the revelation. And yet her presence alone was enough to make Cormia feel bad.

“So, my sister,” Cormia said with sudden impatience, “I am guessing it is known that another shall be elevated to First Mate?”

Layla went over to the toothpicks and the peas and ran a delicate finger down one of the sections. “Do you recall when you found me hidden by the Reflecting Pool? It was after I had seen John Matthew through his transition.”

Cormia nodded, remembering how the Chosen had been crying softly. “You were quite upset.”

“And you were so kind to me. I sent you away, but I was so grateful, and it is in that spirit that I… I have come here to return the gentleness you proffered unto me. The burdens we carry as Chosen are weighty and not always understood by others who are not one among us. I want you to know that, having felt as you do now, I am your sister in the heart at this moment.”

Cormia bowed low. “I am… touched.”

She was a lot of other things too. Amazed, for one thing, that they were speaking of this at all. The candor was unusual.

Layla looked back to the construction. “You do not wish to return unto the fold, do you.”

After weighing her options, Cormia decided to trust the Chosen with a truth she could barely admit to herself. “You read me well.”

“There are others of us who have sought another way. Who have come to pass their lives on this side. There is no shame.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Cormia said dryly. “Shame is like the robes we wear. Always with us, ever clothing us.”

“But if you shed the robe, you are free of the burdens and the choice is yours.”

“Are you sending me a message, Layla?”

“Nay. Verily, if you return to the fold, so shall you be welcomed back with full hearts by your sisters. The Directrix made it plain of sight that there is naught of impropriety in the change of First Mates. The Primale holds you in his highest esteem. She said so.”

Cormia started pacing. “That is the official stance, of course. But honestly… you must know what the others think in their quiet moments. There are but two explanations. Either I was found wanting by the Primale or I denied him. Both are unacceptable and equally egregious.”

The silence that followed told her she’d drawn the correct conclusion.

She paused by the window and looked out over the pool. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to leave her sisters, she thought. Moreover, where would she go?

As she thought of the Sanctuary, she told herself that there had been enjoyable days there. Times when she had felt a sense of purpose and been nourished by being part of a greater good. And if she became a sequestered scribe, as she intended to be, she could avoid contact with the others for whole cycles at a time.

Privacy struck her as a grand thing.

“Is it true you care naught for the Primale?” Layla asked.

No. “Yes.” Cormia shook her head. “I mean, I care for him as I should. In the same manner you do. I shall be joyous for whomever shall become the next First Mate.”

Apparently, Layla didn’t have a bullshit meter like Bella’s, because the lie floated out into the air and the Chosen didn’t question a syllable of it-she just bowed in acknowledgment.

“May I inquire after something then?” Layla asked as she straightened.

“Of course, sister.”

“Has he treated you well?”

“The Primale? Yes. He has been very solicitous.”

Layla went over to the bed and picked up one of the prayer books. “I read in his biography that he is a great warrior and that he saved his twin from a horrible fate.”

“He is a great warrior.” Cormia looked down at the rose garden. She imagined that all the Chosen had read his volumes in the Brotherhood’s special section of the library by now-and she wished she had done the same before he’d brought her here.