However, within those shapes, Rhianne discovered amazing choices. Fabric from thin stretchy material like that of the tunic she wore—Ben called it a T-shirt—to tissue-thin lamé to pliable soft leather to silky fabric that shimmered. All kinds of patterns seemed to be possible: flowers, stripes, abstract shapes with soft outlines. Humans had clothes in every color imaginable.
Rhianne found the leggings she already wore very comfortable, but Ben said she needed something fancier. He told her that the comfortable leggings and jacket were called sweats, because in theory, humans sweated in the clothing when they went running.
“Running from what?” Rhianne asked him.
Ben had laughed and waved her to the closet.
Lady Aisling sometimes brought home human clothes from her trips to Paris or Milan. She and Rhianne had fun trying them on and sometimes Lady Aisling would wear them to fancy-dress parties. The experiments helped Rhianne now to choose an outfit.
The ladies who stored their clothes in this large closet had diverse tastes. Ben had pointed out who owned what. The woman called Jasmine wore colorful shirts and subdued skirts that must fit her closely. The Shifter Jaycee liked black leather, leopard prints, and anything glittery.
Rhianne took her time and put together an ensemble she liked. She started with a flowing, silky tunic in a rich blue that skimmed over a tiny satin white camisole beneath it. On bottom she’d chosen leggings of blackest leather whose outside seams were trimmed with a bright pink satin stripe studded with glinting stones.
Ben had showed her stockings and the array of shoes Jaycee and Jasmine had collected. Rhianne decided on a flat pair of slippers from Jasmine’s side—they fit the best, though a trifle small.
She moved to the bathroom to comb out and re-braid her hair. Peering at herself in the mirror, she supposed she didn’t look too awful. The bath had helped, though she thought she’d never wash away the grime from Walther’s horrible cell. At least her wrists had healed, only faint pink marks remaining.
Rhianne left the bathroom and found Ben in a room down the hall that had deep chairs for lounging and a large, upright box with moving pictures on it. Right now, the pictures were of men with very long legs in colorful clothing bouncing a ball or running, their shoes squeaking on the polished wooden floor.
Ben rose from a chair when he saw her, clicking something in his hand. The box went dark.
“Just catching up on highlights of last season. I missed a lot in Faerie. Oh …” He stopped, looking Rhianne up and down, then he nodded, a slow smile on his hard face. “Nice.”
Rhianne warmed with pleasure, spreading her arms. “You like it? These raiments are strange but quite pleasing.”
“Raiments?” Ben’s smile broadened. “Aren’t you sweet?”
“The slippers pinch a bit. Even the soft ones I had before did.”
“No problem. We’ll take you shopping for shoes.” Ben started. “Wow, did I just say that?”
“One shops for shoes? Are there that many cobblers to choose from?”
Ben shook his head. “Cobblers are still around, but mostly you walk into a store full of shoes and pick out a pair. Or two. Or, if you’re Jaycee, five.”
“Oh.” Rhianne’s interest grew. “May we see these stores?”
“Sure thing, love. Like I said, I’m taking you on the town. A day and a night.”
The next amazing experience Ben introduced Rhianne to was the noisy two-wheeled vehicle of the type the Shifters had ridden.
“Motorcycle,” Ben explained while Rhianne gazed at it in apprehension. “Cycle for wheels that go around, motor for, well, the motor. Bike for short. From the word bicycle, which is not at all the same thing … er, never mind.” Ben swung his leg over, steadied the vehicle, then patted the seat behind him. “Hop on.”
“Hop?” Rhianne’s brow puckered. “Do I have to jump?”
“Figure of speech. Climb up however you can, rest your feet on those footholds there, and hang on to me.”
Rhianne was dubious, but she placed her hands on Ben’s shoulders and tried to swing her leg over the seat as he had. She didn’t quite make it and then couldn’t catch her balance to land on her feet again. Clinging to Ben’s back, she slid and slithered until she straddled the seat, propping her feet on the bars he’d indicated.
A very intimate position, she realized as she settled in. Ben sat between her legs, his body even closer when she wrapped her arms around him as instructed.
Not such a bad thing. Ben was solid and warm. She felt his heart beating beneath her hands and against her chest.
Ben twisted around to give her a round thing with a hard, shiny surface. “Put that on. Just in case. Shifters can survive a crash, but not sure about Tuil Erdannan.”
Ben had to show Rhianne which way was up, but soon she had the helmet, as he called it, on, a face shield in place. She must look like a strange kind of bug, she mused, with her legs akimbo and the large black bubble on her head.
Ben turned a key then pushed buttons or pulled levers—she couldn’t see exactly—and the motorcycle let out a roar. Rhianne had been expecting it after hearing the Shifters ignite their machines, but she squeaked and held Ben a bit tighter.
The motorcycle throbbed beneath her, its vibrations strange yet exciting. “Hold on!” Ben yelled.
Rhianne was already clutching him tightly, but she increased her embrace as the world moved. No, it was the bike that moved, speeding in a long curve around the house and onto the front drive.
They were going so fast! Rhianne regularly rode horses and liked nothing better than a hard gallop, but this motorcycle surpassed even the fleetest steed in her mother’s stable.
Ben guided the bike down the tree-lined lane, leaving the house behind. Rhianne glanced back at it. The rose vines on the house danced in the wind, almost as though they were waving. Rhianne waved back.
The bike slowed, disappointingly, but only because Ben had paused at a roadway. An impossibly large thing thundered at them, a vehicle of some kind, menacing and huge. It would strike them surely.
Ben waited without fear while the many-wheeled thing tore past them. A human, sitting in the small room at the front of this monstrosity, lifted a hand to Ben, and Ben returned the gesture.
After the thing had passed, splashing mud and stirring an unpleasant wind, the roadway was relatively empty. Ben moved the motorcycle forward, accelerating as they turned.
If she’d thought they’d moved swiftly before, their subsequent speed took Rhianne’s breath away. Ben leaned forward, pulling her with him, and the motorcycle raced along. The trees to either side of the road were a blur, as were the giant buildings that smelled of metal, oil, and decay.
More vehicles came straight at them. Rhianne cringed against Ben, but the other conveyances whipped past them, the wind of their passing sharp. Rhianne realized that the continuously paved road had a stripe down its middle. The drivers kept their vehicles going one way on one side and the opposite direction on the other.
Still, only a painted stripe separated them from the gargantuan conveyances, which could easily come over the line and scatter her and Ben across the meadow beyond. The purpose of the helmet became clear.
They sped by open fields, some green, some fallow. Dampness and mud lay everywhere. The road wound over gullies and washes and passed lanes reaching from the fields, sometimes with vehicles in these lanes waiting to join them on the road.