The closest she'd come was a special evening showing at the IMAX theater. The huge screen had filled her vision. She'd tried to filter out the film's narration, and the chilled air, and the people around her, and she'd come close. Those meditation techniques that Acacia thought were so hilarious helped a little. But it still wasn't the same.

She dressed slowly. Even though there wasn't a crack downstairs that might let in a sliver of daylight, all sisters tended to be cautious. Acacia, who was eldest and should have known better, still had a white blur of scar tissue across the back of her left thigh from where she had been careless about checking a door to be sure that it sealed properly in its frame. Unlike the other many wounds that the girls had received over the decades, this one wasn't going to go away. It was a part of their mental pathology that neither Naresha nor Milda saw such a scar on their own flesh, though it was there. After all, it was the same body.

Milda's long, coppery wig had come slightly askew during her day-long sleep, and she paused a moment, looking in the mirror, to straighten it. The girls had never been able to explain why they had reflections when no other vampire did. They had assumed that the other Kindred didn't mention it out of politeness, or jealousy. It never occurred to them that they didn't simply because they didn't SEE the girls' reflections. The times Nana would stand behind one or the other of them as they sat at their vanity, she would see only herself in the mirror, but she never mentioned it, either. If the girls wanted to have reflections, that was perfectly all right with her.

Milda opened her armoire and considered her wardrobe. The standing closet was stuffed almost to bursting. She really didn't need so many clothes, but she just couldn't say no when Naresha or Acacia offered her something. And they DID know her tastes, though Acacia was always trying to tease her into shorter skirts.

*Well, there's one way to avoid that argument.* She put on her most comfortable pair of bell-bottom jeans and a baggy tie-dyed T-shirt. Just a simple one: she'd used bleach on a pumpkin orange shirt, and it had turned out very nicely. She decided to just go barefoot, forgoing the sandals. It was almost the full moon. They no longer automatically went through the change under the full moon, but the feline tendencies were closer to the surface. Since she was the most even-tempered of the sisters she didn't have as much trouble with it as Naresha and Acacia, but it happened, and it was annoying, sprouting those dagger toenails when you got distracted.

Nana came out of her room as Milda came into the kitchen, and gave the girl a kiss. "Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

Milda grinned at her. "If I was Naresha, I'd tell you I slept like the dead. No, it was pretty peaceful." All of the girls still had nightmares, but Milda was troubled by them less than the others. She seemed to be the concentration of all the serenity and emotional evenness of the three sisters.

She was the repository of the Akuji gentleness, and had never been as ruthless as her sisters. She never had to--Acacia and Naresha had been very efficient buffers, and she had been shielded from first hand experience with the nastier aspects of life. Nana wondered how deep the Akuji animal nature ran in this sweet girl. She had a suspicion that if it ever came down to it, a dark vein would be exposed. Nana hoped that never happened. It would hurt Milda so terribly to know that she had that in her.

"What will you be doing today, dear?"

When Milda held up the teapot questioningly, Nana nodded, and the girl began to fix two cups of tea. "I'll do camomile, to help you sleep." She put a kettle of water on the stove and started rummaging in the cabinet. "I'll be on the box again. I want to hack into the Army data base again and check to see if there might be a fingerprint match." She sighed. "Of course, if he did his service pre-Vietnam I probably won't find anything, but it's worth a try, I suppose. I'll have to try another route. They closed up the last gap I slipped through." She spooned tea into a silver ball, then twisted it closed and set it on the counter.

"What about Congresswoman O'Neill?"

Milda frowned. "Yes, I could use her passwords, but I don't want to do that too often. It would be abusing the privilege she's entrusted to us, and someone will eventually catch on if I do it too often. Then they'll question her about the unusual material she's been accessing. She can only use that 'working on a committee investigation' so many times."

There was a thin whistle as the kettle came to a boil. Milda rinsed the pot and set the tea to steep, then got out two pretty china cup and saucer sets. The girls had offered several times to buy Nana a complete set of any pattern that she chose. But Nana had been collecting cup and saucer sets since she was a little girl, and she preferred to use them rather than put them on display. Naresha had said, with only a slight exaggeration, that one could have tea twice a day for a solid year and never use the same cup and saucer combination twice.

This time, since she was feeling particularly girlish for some reason, Milda chose two demitasse sets. One was a square cup and saucer decorated with maroon stripes, and gold and white accents. The other was a fragile, wide bottomed cup in fine, black bone chine with a flower-and-dragon design in raised, muted greys and greens, with matching saucer. She poured the tea while Nana went to the cookie jar.

When Nana set the plate of cookies before Milda, the girl gave her a quizzical look. "The last batch I baked was Tollhouse, and these look like oatmeal." Nana smiled, and Milda returned it. "Nana, you baked! Thank you."

"Try one, dear. I used one of your recipes."

Milda picked up one of the cookies and took a healthy bite. "Oo, you got the texture just perfect! They're crisp at the edges and on the outside, but chewy. And they taste..." She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully above her glasses. Finally she laughed delightedly, and Nana smiled with pleasure. "You used my secret ingredient!"

Nana nodded. "I was worried that there wouldn't be enough dry ingredients if I didn't, and I just didn't feel like substituting coconut." She took a cookie and nibbled.

Milda laughed. "Nana, I thought you didn't like my, um, fortified baked goods."

"I have absolutely nothing against the taste, dear. Nor the effects, truth be told. It's just that I want all my faculties in the mornings. However, since I'm going to bed in a few minutes I see no reason why I shouldn't indulge a little."

The doorbell rang, and Nana glanced toward the front. "Oh, dear." She was wearing her robe, and she instinctively pulled it a little tighter. "I'm not dressed for company."

Milda got up. "The sun's well down now, Nana. I'll get it." She trotted up to the front and peered up at the security monitor. "Oh."

The single syllable was surprised. "Who is it?"

"No one I recognize." She glanced back at Nana. "It's a man." The tone of voice might have been the same as anyone else announcing that there was a giraffe at the door.

"Really?" Nana came to the front as the bell pealed once again. "Mm, this is becoming familiar." The bell rang a third time as she arrived at the door and looked at the monitor. "Just as I thought."

"You know him?" Milda studied the chestnut haired man who was in the process of leaning on the bell. "He looks like one of Naresha's friends."

"He's one of your sister's 'followers'."

Milda looked at him more closely. "He must be very new, I haven't seen him... Oh, is that Goth Cop?"

"I believe so. His name is Randal Turner, and he was here earlier today. I was going to tell you about his visit in a minute or two. He's a pushy young man, coming back so soon," the bell was now ringing continuously, "and he's very persistent. Can you disconnect that?"

"I could, but why don't you just go on back to your room, Nana, and I'll let him in."

Nana frowned. "Should you do that, Milda? You don't know him."

"I don't know most of the people who come to the door. Besides," she studied the image on the screen carefully, "he doesn't feel dangerous. Not in the significant way."

She meant that she got no unnatural vibes from him. He wasn't Kindred if he had visited here during daylight hours, and she didn't get a sense of him being a lycanthrope. Neither was there the odd, disturbing aura that usually hung around practitioners of the magical arts. No, his aura was a pleasant sage green, with pink tints near the rim. He was curious.

"He's the one who gave us the initial information. Maybe he can be of some use. Why don't you go on to bed, Nana?"

"Milda, are you sure about this?"

"Nana, please. You're treating me like a baby again. I know I'm the youngest, but I'm not all that foolish, am I?"

"No, dear. Just a darn sight more trusting than you should be. All right, but just be ready to deal with Acacia if she's upset about this. You know how she feels about men in the house."

"They pollute the atmosphere, yes, I know." As Nana started back down the corridor she pushed the intercom button and said, "You can stop leaning on the bell, Mr. Turner. I'll open the door in a moment."

Randal removed his finger from the bell, glancing curiously at the camera overhead. That voice... He was noticing that there were a great many similarities between the Akuji sisters. The voices were rather similar. The biggest difference seemed to be the cadence, though the timbre was also a little distinctive. Naresha spoke in a drawl that seemed sometimes southern, sometimes English. Acacia had the accentless-accent that reminded him of the mid-west, with a hint of nasality. This voice... Just a little husky, and with a touch of Valley girl 'fer shure' in it.

There was the sound of locks disengaging, accompanied by the faint electronic sounds that indicated a sophisticated security system was being disarmed. The door opened, and a shadowy figure stepped back to allow him entrance. All he could make out in the dim hallway was the glimmer of light on a long sheaf of hair, and the glint that indicated glasses.

He stepped inside, and the woman shut the door, beginning to tap in a code on the number pad. Randal saw a light switch beside the door, and flipped it. The passageway was flooded with light. He was startled when the woman at the door suddenly hunched over with a pained hiss, hands clutched

over her eyes. "Hey, you all right?" he asked anxiously, putting his hand on her shoulder.

He was startled by the feel of tensed, wiry muscles under the neon orange material. "Bright!" the woman gasped. "Please..." She reached for the switch, fingers crooked stiffly, but missed it. He heard her nails scratch against the wall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realized." He quickly turned off the lights, plunging the hall into gloom once again. The woman lowered her hands, looking at him, and Randal blinked as he saw a flicker of red. A moment later he was telling himself that it was an optical illusion, caused by the sudden change from dark, to light, to dark again.

"It's all right. It's just that our eyes are a little sensitive sometimes. I had adjusted to the darkness, and all that light was a little too sudden. There's no harm done. Would you like to come into the kitchen?"

"That would be fine." He followed her down the hall into the familiar kitchen. Inside, she turned to smile at him, and he couldn't help smiling in return. He gave her a quick once over, and said, "Bellbottoms?"

"I'm so glad they've come back into style. All my old pairs... Well, you want to wash them till they're broken in, but they were about to reach the point of disintegration. Would you like some tea?"

He sat at the table. "I'm not sure I should. I'm still buzzing from that espresso I had here earlier."

"You had some of Naresha's blend? I'm surprised you aren't hanging from the ceiling. I just made some camomile. Let's see, I think you look like a mug type person." She peered into a cabinet. "What sign are you?"

"Aries."

She nodded, as if this was what she had expected. "The Ram." She took down a black mug with a gold symbol etched on the side: a line that split at the top to curve down on either side. It was indeed a fair symbolic representation of a ram seen head-on: the bar being the face and the curls the horns. As she filled the mug she said, "Aggressive and self-assertive, with a fiery and highly active personality. Can be accomplishing and very self-confident when positively influenced by the planets."

He grinned accepting the mug. "Sounds like me, all right."

She smiled, sitting and pushing the sugar bowl toward him. "When negatively influenced, can be selfish and impulsive, leaping into situations headfirst, without proper preparation."

He gave a mock wince. "Like coming here without an invitation?"

"Possibly, but by no means assured. I'm Milda."

"I thought you might be." Randal looked at her. At first glance she was rather plain, especially compared to the exotic Naresha and the vibrant Acacia. But further study revealed an appealing serenity in the slightly tilted blue eyes that was absent in her sisters'. Her face looked less angular, perhaps due to the gentle good-nature of her expression. She was obviously younger than the other two, by several years. Randal wondered if she was out of her teens yet. He hoped she was. It made him feel a little odd when he found teenagers attractive.

He considered figuring out a subtle, convoluted way to ask her, then looked again at her open expression. *Fuck it.* "How old are you, Milda?"

She blinked, but the smile stayed in place. "Dear, dear. That sounded like a policeman's question."

"I'm glad you didn't say 'pig'."

"I very seldom make lump judgements. Naresha's interest in you says that you're not one of the common law enforcement herd."

"This isn't for official reasons. It's personal curiosity."

"Ah, curiosity I can relate to." She seemed to think for a moment. "I guess I'm about... twenty."

"You guess?"

"My DOB is a little fuzzy, as it is with all of us." The smile showed teeth: small, white, and a little pointed. "The progenitors weren't very good about things like that."

"You're parents didn't keep track? What were you--gypsies?"

He'd meant it as a joke, but she was nodding her head. "For a good portion of our lives, that would be a fairly accurate term. I don't think we can claim actual blood with the Rom, but I'm personally very fond of them, except that they do have a dreadful tendency to lie."

That surprised him. "That isn't a very nice thing to say."

She cocked her head. "Well, perhaps not with other clans, but they're quite proud of their deceptive nature. Calling a Rom a bit of a liar is considered merely an accurate description. Why are you here, Randal? You've done all that Naresha has asked of you so far."

He considered his answer. If he said he was here just for the company he knew that Naresha would laugh and Acacia would snort. How would Milda react? "Like I said, curiosity. I've met your two sisters, I thought I'd like to meet you." She seemed pleased, but there was a light in her eyes... He couldn't really call it skeptical--it wasn't cynical enough. "And I want to know why you need the information I gave you. Naresha made some rather intriguing noises about justice, righting wrongs, and protecting the innocent. I am a policeman," he waggled his hand, "of a sort."

"You know, Randal, you could be very useful to us. We run a small operation, and I'm always urging the others to let us branch out where we can. It can be done without too much risk. I'd like to tell you a little more, but I'm afraid it isn't solely my decision. I'll have to ask my sisters, and they're not in right now."

Randal made a humming sound, sipping his tea. He'd been watching the place since just before sunset, and no one had entered or exited. Nana had been pretty clear about the girls not running around during the day. Had they just not come home, or was little Milda lying?

He looked at her again. There didn't seem to be a scrap of dissimilation. *But then, I've heard that a true sociopath or a pathological liar can pass a polygraph.* "Ask them for me, would you?"

"Sure."

He stood up, and reached for the plate of cookies. "Mind if I...?"

He was startled when she caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "No, I don't think so. You're driving." He tried to puzzle that one out while she went and dug through the cookie jar. "Here we go." She handed him two home made chocolate chip cookies.

He shrugged, and ate both of them on the short walk to the hall. "Did you bake those?"

"Yes."

"They're terrific! You should market them."

"We do. Those are a home prepared batch of our Premium Blocksters. We use chopped block chocolate instead of chips. Would you mind turning your back, please?"

Randal obliged, and as she punched in the security code he thought, *So, you're a little more savvy than your hippie image would suggest, but it's a little too late, princess.*

She opened the door and stepped aside again to allow him out. Randal paused. He found Naresha exciting, and Acacia interesting, but Milda was... appealing. He reached out and lifted a handful of the heavy copper hair from her shoulder, letting it sift through his fingers. Again he found his wrist taken in a firm grip, and he started to apologize. But she didn't protest, and her smile never faltered. She lifted his hand, turning it, and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. The skin was cool and smooth. She said softly. "Not the hair, Randal. Not till I know you better." She released him, he stepped the rest of the way out, and she shut the door.

He stood there for a moment, thinking. Somehow he wouldn't have expected her to be the type to be fussy about her hair. And come to think of it, there hadn't been the usual whiny, vain 'oh my God, don't mess it up' tone most women used when issuing that edict.

He shook his head. Well, the alternative offered had been very nice. As he was turning to leave, her voice crackled from the intercom. "Randal?"

He turned back. "Yes, Milda?"

There was amusement, but genuine concern in her tone. "You do know enough not to ever try that with Acacia, don't you?"