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Vata Kılímí ran the bathroom sink faucet, splashing cold water on her face with both hands. It was quarter till five o’clock, earlier than she typically arose. She usually had more than an hour’s sleep, as well, but Pí‘oro’s emotions had awoken her. He had said he would sleep in the front room, since the guest bed wasn’t large enough for both of them, but apparently he had woken up.
She dried her face and hands with a fluffy pink towel.
Pí‘oro’s emotions had changed abruptly from agitation to excitement. Something was happening that Vata couldn’t sleep through. He still had antagonism bubbling inside him, but it was deeper within than before.
She exited the bathroom, turning off the lights, and shuffled down the dark hallway. Vata smiled contentedly. The carpet was smooth and clean under her slippers.
What had excited Pí‘oro? The only things he got excited about these days were panelball games on the television and horseback riding. Vata pursed her lips. And being the center of attention while he complains about anything and everything. The house was too quiet for that, though.
As she crossed the front room toward the kitchen, she heard soft voices and movement from ahead.
“Dear?” she quietly called, announcing her presence.
Pí‘oro’s bulk filled the doorway, silhouetted by dim light coming from outside the windows. The sky was beginning to lighten, although true dawn was still most of an hour away.
“Good morning, darling,” greeted Pí‘oro with a chipper whisper.
Before Vata could ask a question, her husband held up his index finger and continued in a low voice, “I know you said to stay here, but I can’t. The police will get in here no matter what Ríko promised you. They still have this kitchen to examine and my body to collect.” He snorted a laugh. “And I can’t let Fírí die by herself in the desert, can I?”
You’re helping Fírí? For once, Pí‘oro seemed genuinely desirous of helping others, rather than grumpily doing what he knew was right.
Without Pí‘oro, though, Vata didn’t know if she’d be able to handle the chaos that would erupt. He was her ally, her support, her rock.
He was probably correct about the police, though. Ríko would have to let the lawmen inside if they pushed him. If they did a thorough search, perhaps they’d even find the chapel. No one could hide in there. Nothing incriminating could be left in there.
“What about Zhíno?” Vata asked.
“We’ll take him with us.”
“What?” hissed Fírí.
Pí‘oro turned toward the blonde girl, who was out of sight over by the refrigerator.
“I can’t abandon him--not after what we’ve been through.” His voice caught, as if he were going to say something further, but thought better of it.
He’s keeping Névazhíno and the afterlife from her.
Once Vata had made the decision to aid Zhíno, she couldn’t throw him to the police now, when he was in his most vulnerable state. It was odd, however, that Pí‘oro had joined the young man’s cause so fervently. He always backed Vata’s decisions, but that didn’t usually mean carrying them a step or four further. Pí‘oro’s experience in the afterlife with Névazhíno had obviously altered him, but it seemed as if he was altered in only one manner, that being his loyalty to Zhíno. It was almost as if part of Zhíno’s spirit had intertwined with Pí‘oro’s, as if the essence of the young man was somehow controlling part of her husband. But that’s crazy.
Vata stepped close behind her husband, so she could see Fírí. To them both, she said, “Yes, you should take Zhíno with you.”
Fírí opened her mouth to speak, but just shook her head slightly, large eyes wide.
“Please, dear.” Vata held out a calming hand toward the girl. “Zhíno may have attacked you, threatened you, killed a Colonial Enforcer, and shot at that poor foreign kid, but that’s all in the past. He has since seen the Love of the Universe. Névazhíno changes people.”
Pí‘oro nodded and softly growled, “Zhíno is a new man. Trust us.”
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