werewolf—human and wolf combined. In here…’
‘You’re what?’
‘Myself.’ She sank into one of the armchairs and lifted her feet up onto a footstool. ‘Ah, that’s good. You have no idea how sore your feet get when you’re pregnant. At least I’m nowhere near as big this time. Have you ever been pregnant?’
‘Me? No. No kids.’
‘Planning to?’
Neil and I hadn’t discussed it. Michael and I had, but in a vague ‘someday our kids will laugh at this’ way. Our children would have inherited the modification from both their parents. Our children would have been…what? Our own genius squared? The same but with our experience to guide them? Or something totally different, in the way I suspect children often are.
Not that it mattered. Our modification was recessive. If either of us had children with someone else they’d be Truenorms.
‘Who knows?’ I said.
‘It’s a good thing having children.’ The hint of the instructress now, the management consultant taking over from the hostess. ‘Motherhood makes you more efficient. You learn to prioritise. Multitask.’ She smiled. ‘My heavens, do you multitask. More than that…’ she hesitated, watching me out of those strangely placed eyes.
‘What?’
‘Having children makes you determined to succeed. Especially if you’re a woman.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s simple. Why does anyone want to succeed?’
‘I don’t know. For the pleasure of doing whatever it is, I suppose.’
She shook her head. ‘No. Doing things well—that’s a pleasure in itself. But succeeding, being better than others, forcing yourself to be the best—that’s something else. Males do it naturally. Aggression is a male’s hormonal heritage. Be bigger, be stronger and you’ll catch your mate and beat off the opposition while you do it.
‘But for us? For women? No, we want to succeed for our children. To keep them safe, to win them the best possible world as they grow up…’
She smiled. The thin dark lips pulled back over her teeth. Long teeth, by human standards, and just a little too wide. ‘The old wars were mostly fought by men. But when women had to fight we were more ruthless. Men kill anyone who is temporarily their enemy. Women kill only in desperation, but when we do…’ the narrow eyes were still watching me closely,’…we are efficient.’
‘So,’ I said slowly. ‘You’d expect this murderer to be male?’
‘Of course. The murders were too bloody. Messy. Male.’ She had been leaning forward. Now she leant back again, seemingly relaxed. I wasn’t taken in. Even relaxed Eleanor was still in charge. All it needed was someone to threaten her domain then…
‘Bam wham powee!’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘That’s the way men kill. In anger. Messily. Theperson who murdered those men did it messily. Ergo, the murderer is almost certainly a man.’
Eleanor rubbed her feet for a moment. ‘Women kill in two ways. Either in self-defence, in which case it’s unpremeditated, or secretly, carefully. They used to call poison the woman’s weapon. Now…well, I’d imagine a women could be even more discreet.’
‘How would you kill someone?’
‘Me? You know, I’ve never thought about it—apart from occasionally wanting to strangle my husband. No, don’t get me wrong. I love Rusty dearly and I’m certainly not confessing to homicidal leanings. But men—well, they can be exasperating.’ She smiled at me, as though expecting me to cosily agree. I said nothing.
Eleanor shut her eyes momentarily. ‘How would I kill someone then? Virtual feedback,’ she decided, opening her eyes and meeting my gaze full on. ‘Give someone a basic Virtual scenario—werewolves feeding by moonlight perhaps.’ The thin dark lips grinned at me. ‘Then give it unlimited feedback so they feed on their own terror. Result: heart attack. No sign of violence. No proof of murder. Tidy. A woman’s weapon.’
‘Someone tried to kill a
‘You’re what?’
‘Myself.’ She sank into one of the armchairs and lifted her feet up onto a footstool. ‘Ah, that’s good. You have no idea how sore your feet get when you’re pregnant. At least I’m nowhere near as big this time. Have you ever been pregnant?’
‘Me? No. No kids.’
‘Planning to?’
Neil and I hadn’t discussed it. Michael and I had, but in a vague ‘someday our kids will laugh at this’ way. Our children would have inherited the modification from both their parents. Our children would have been…what? Our own genius squared? The same but with our experience to guide them? Or something totally different, in the way I suspect children often are.
Not that it mattered. Our modification was recessive. If either of us had children with someone else they’d be Truenorms.
‘Who knows?’ I said.
‘It’s a good thing having children.’ The hint of the instructress now, the management consultant taking over from the hostess. ‘Motherhood makes you more efficient. You learn to prioritise. Multitask.’ She smiled. ‘My heavens, do you multitask. More than that…’ she hesitated, watching me out of those strangely placed eyes.
‘What?’
‘Having children makes you determined to succeed. Especially if you’re a woman.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s simple. Why does anyone want to succeed?’
‘I don’t know. For the pleasure of doing whatever it is, I suppose.’
She shook her head. ‘No. Doing things well—that’s a pleasure in itself. But succeeding, being better than others, forcing yourself to be the best—that’s something else. Males do it naturally. Aggression is a male’s hormonal heritage. Be bigger, be stronger and you’ll catch your mate and beat off the opposition while you do it.
‘But for us? For women? No, we want to succeed for our children. To keep them safe, to win them the best possible world as they grow up…’
She smiled. The thin dark lips pulled back over her teeth. Long teeth, by human standards, and just a little too wide. ‘The old wars were mostly fought by men. But when women had to fight we were more ruthless. Men kill anyone who is temporarily their enemy. Women kill only in desperation, but when we do…’ the narrow eyes were still watching me closely,’…we are efficient.’
‘So,’ I said slowly. ‘You’d expect this murderer to be male?’
‘Of course. The murders were too bloody. Messy. Male.’ She had been leaning forward. Now she leant back again, seemingly relaxed. I wasn’t taken in. Even relaxed Eleanor was still in charge. All it needed was someone to threaten her domain then…
‘Bam wham powee!’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘That’s the way men kill. In anger. Messily. Theperson who murdered those men did it messily. Ergo, the murderer is almost certainly a man.’
Eleanor rubbed her feet for a moment. ‘Women kill in two ways. Either in self-defence, in which case it’s unpremeditated, or secretly, carefully. They used to call poison the woman’s weapon. Now…well, I’d imagine a women could be even more discreet.’
‘How would you kill someone?’
‘Me? You know, I’ve never thought about it—apart from occasionally wanting to strangle my husband. No, don’t get me wrong. I love Rusty dearly and I’m certainly not confessing to homicidal leanings. But men—well, they can be exasperating.’ She smiled at me, as though expecting me to cosily agree. I said nothing.
Eleanor shut her eyes momentarily. ‘How would I kill someone then? Virtual feedback,’ she decided, opening her eyes and meeting my gaze full on. ‘Give someone a basic Virtual scenario—werewolves feeding by moonlight perhaps.’ The thin dark lips grinned at me. ‘Then give it unlimited feedback so they feed on their own terror. Result: heart attack. No sign of violence. No proof of murder. Tidy. A woman’s weapon.’
‘Someone tried to kill a
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