A weird sadness descended on him. Yes, they were scary, and probably dangerous, but Ellie Mae worked hard. And really, with the kids she had, what the hell was she supposed to do?
“Hey, Riley?” He motioned to one of the interns who was acting as a gofer.
“Yes milord?” Riley bowed, then handed Bruce a replacement suit coat. It didn’t match his pants, but at least it would do for the general meetings, and he still had his formal dress with him.
“You know any out-of-work brownies around here?”
Riley blinked. “I might, milord. Why?”
Bruce laughed and leaned back, sipping the pint of ale. “I might have a job for one of them. Make sure it’s a guy—I would never send a woman into this situation. Make certain he’s cute, with a hearty appetite, and that he’s smart enough to keep from getting caught if he likes to play chance with the ladies.”
And with that, Bruce dismissed him. As he settled down for a long-overdue sleep, he made the decision that this would be the last Meet he would attend. If his mother wanted a family member to represent them so badly, she could send one of his brothers. And, he also decided, he would never, ever watch the movie Deliverance again.
Family Ties
Morio’s family isn’t quite as accepting as he’s let on. This story takes place shortly after Panther Prowling.
“ARE YOU SURE you won’t come? She wants to meet you.” Morio was frustrated. Once again he was in an argument with his mother, and he knew he wouldn’t win, but he had to try. That summed up their relationship: he did something she didn’t like. He tried to convince her to cave. She guilt-tripped him into an apology.
A glance at the clock told him it was near dinner time. He made one more attempt. “I’ve told her that you accept her and our marriage. I told her that while you aren’t thrilled about me marrying someone outside our people, you want me to be happy.”
His mother’s voice soared, and not in a pleasant way. “You know our position. That you would lie to your wife, to the woman you married without our permission…this just shows me how far from the family honor you have fallen. You have no sense of decency anymore.”
“I respect and love my family, Mother. I also respect and love my wife.”
“Why you married her in the first place confounds us. Don’t even start at me with your excuses. We know Grandmother Coyote ordered you to protect the girl. We accept that you must be involved with Camille and her sisters. But you were not required to involve yourself in her emotional life. You weren’t forced to marry her. I can’t even talk to my friends about this. I’d be a laughingstock. An unfit mother for letting her son stray so far from our traditions. Morio, you shame me—shameful, shameful son—”
And she was off again, ranting away. Morio let her whine without interrupting. He took the blame like he always did. If he had tried to defend himself, her tirade would have been worse, so might as well let her wind herself down. He was an old hand at wrangling his family.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, his mother changed the subject, and a few minutes later, she was ready to wrap things up.
“Your father and I are headed to dinner with the neighbors. They are going to introduce us to their granddaughter—she was just born. Their son is your age…” Yep, slip one last guilt-trip in for the road, and she was done. “You know we love you and just want what’s best for you and the family.” And then…silence.
Morio slowly replaced the receiver. His mother always used a landline and never called cell phones. She insisted that if you were too busy to sit down and talk to her, she would just wait till you weren’t distracted.
His grandfather was worse, detesting anything to do with technology or the humans who created it. Morio’s father was silent on the subject, caught between his father’s teachings, and a desire to understand his son.
Trouble was, Morio had fudged the truth to Camille. She thought they were okay with the marriage, but the truth was anything but that. His parents disliked and distrusted humans and Fae alike. When they found out he had married outside the clan, they had gone ballistic, threatening to come put an end to the union. It had taken every ounce of diplomacy he had to smooth things out so they weren’t banging on the door with annulment papers. But he didn’t want Camille to know that. It would hurt her feelings, terribly so. And the fact that his family lived in Japan made it much easier to put off the truth for now.
With a sigh, he headed for the kitchen. His monthly obligation was over till next time. Once more, he would lie and make up a bunch of general niceties to tell Camille and the others, while he just kept hoping that his parents would change their minds. Preferably sooner than later.
But an inner voice whispered, “Fat chance…” when he mused over the possibility.
A FEW DAYS later, the doorbell rang while he was playing a game of chess with Trillian. Morio was good, but the dark Fae—or dark elf, to be more precise—was a brilliant strategist. Morio had been practicing with him to better his skill.
Smoky answered. The girls were in the kitchen helping Hanna. Vanzir and Roz were at it with some video game again. A moment later, the dragon returned, a quizzical look on his face.
“Fox-boy, you better step outside for a minute.”
“Oh?” Morio arched his eyebrows. By now what had begun as an insult was simply a nickname. “What’s going on?”
“I advise doing so before Camille comes in asking who was at the door.” Smoky’s questioning look turned gloomy as he gave a warning shake of the head.
Frowning, Morio stood. A sudden sense of gloom swept past. Maybe it was because of the look on the dragon’s face, or maybe it was an actual premonition, but a queasy wash hit the pit of his stomach. He cautiously headed toward the door, with Smoky behind him.
The wind was picking up as he stepped out onto the porch. Spring was around the corner, but it was still a ways off. The clouds were thick and black overhead. A thin sprinkle of rain started to spit down as Morio turned to see a spare figure standing next to the porch swing.
Crap. He knew that face, though it had been several years since he had seen the man.
“Hayoto. What are you doing here?”
While his cousin spoke perfect English, Morio switched over to Japanese just in case Hayoto said something that Morio didn’t want the others to understand. Smoky might know the language, but there was a good chance nobody else in the household did. And the few rudimentary phrases he had taught Camille on her insistence were limited to ordering coffee, asking where the restroom was, and searching for the nearest magic shop.
Hayoto was dressed in dark jeans and a close-fit tailored shirt. He was the same age as Morio, but they had grown up wary, always on the outskirts of one another.
They competed in a way that neither could entirely understand, or even verbalize. Morio had always been a rebel. Hayoto had been the good son, much more judgmental. Both were intelligent, and neither welcomed interference in their lives. But when it came to family honor, Hayoto toed the line.
“Your mother asked me to check in on you.” Hayoto’s voice was cool. He neither hugged Morio, nor offered his hand.
Oh, lovely. His worst fears come to haunt him.
Morio frowned. “I didn’t even realize you were in the country. When did you get here?”
“Two years ago. I moved to New York, but had to make a business trip to Seattle this week. My mother told your mother about the trip and so, here I am.” He looked vaguely disapproving. “Your mother said you were messed up in the head.”
That was about right. His mother would phrase it just like that. “There’s no need. Really. My mother doesn’t approve of my choices and she’s pissed at me. This is no affair of yours.”
“Anything to do with the family is my business. We have a responsibility to the clan.” Hayoto scowled at him. “I’m getting married in a month, and she’s a proper youkai. Whatever happened to your family loyalty?”
“I don�
�t know what your problem is—I can’t understand a word you two are saying, but I advise you to lower the volume right now.” Smoky warned.
Seconds later, Camille popped her head out onto the porch. “What’s going on? I heard voices—who’s this?” She glanced at Hayoto, a curious look on her face.
Morio grimaced. He had hoped to get rid of Hayoto before he had to explain his presence, but now that idea was shot to hell.
“Meet Hayoto, my cousin.” He turned to Hayoto. “My wife, Camille. And this is Smoky, he’s part of our quartet. Camille is married to Smoky, me, and a dark Fae named Trillian.”
“I knew you had crossed lines but I hadn’t realized just how far you’ve fallen from honor. You break the boundaries and expect us to accept you and your…consort…with open arms?” Hayoto spoke in Japanese, but then turned to Camille and, in English, said, “So you are the cause of all the commotion.”
“Commotion? What are you talking about?” Camille asked, a puzzled tone in her voice.
Morio winced. He would rather be anywhere else but here right now, at this moment. Even fighting demons seemed more pleasant. “I think I mentioned that not all of my family stands behind our marriage…”
Hayoto’s cool smile turned to realization. “She doesn’t know? Oh, this is rich. You turn your back on the family, then you lie to the woman you claim to love?”
Before Morio could stop him, Hayoto turned to Camille. “Morio’s mother asked me to check in on him. He has disgraced our family by marrying you. He has broken tradition, refused to listen to reason, and has shattered his mother’s heart.”
Morio bristled. “How dare you talk to my wife that way—”
Camille let out a sharp cry, but before she could speak, Hayoto snorted and shook his head.
“The family will never recognize your marriage. I was also asked to deliver a message. Either you give up this charade and return home, or you will no longer be recognized by the Kuroyama clan.” Hayoto folded his arms across his chest. “It’s your true family, or this…whore.”
Camille flew at him, but Smoky managed to catch her before she could do damage. He carried her inside and firmly shut the door. But Morio saw the hurt in her eyes. His heart thudded in his chest and though he wanted to wipe Hayoto’s condescending smile off his face, he waited until the door closed to speak.
“If you think I will give up the woman I love, or the cause given to me by Grandmother Coyote, you’ve lost your mind. Also, know this: if you ever show up on my doorstep again, if you ever speak to my wife again, I will beat the living crap out of you. Then, I’ll sic Smoky on you. And he happens to be a dragon. Now get out of here. You can tell my mother her plan backfired. Apparently, I’m no longer a member of the Kuroyama clan.”
With one final contemptuous look, he turned his back on his cousin and hurried inside, slamming the door behind him.
THREE DAYS LATER, Camille still wasn’t speaking to him. Morio had tried everything to get her to talk, but whenever he approached, she just gave him a hard stare and turned away.
Trillian finally cornered him after dinner. “Let me take you out for a drink. I think it would do her good to have an evening without you trying to patch things up. Right now, she just needs to work through her anger.” He motioned to the door. “Come on.”
Morio shrugged. “Might as well. The chill is biting around here, and I’m not talking about temperature. I don’t blame her, though. I was such an idiot.” He slipped on his leather jacket. “You want to drive?”
Trillian nodded. He’d recently got his license and was taking every opportunity to practice. “Let’s head to the Shark Pit. If we go to the Wayfarer, Menolly will just run tales back to Camille.” But he grinned as he said it.
Morio snorted. “Guess that’s just the the pitfall of having a sister-in-law who owns the best bar around. Every other place feels like a dive.”
They headed to the Shark Pit, a dive run by Kek, a demon passing as Fae. Neither Morio nor Trillian knew exactly what kind of demon Kek was—Vanzir didn’t even know and it wasn’t good form to ask. But he was a good sort. He had fled the Sub-Realms when things started to go bad, and his joint served the low life of the Supe world. But he always made sure true troublemakers were kept out, and he wouldn’t put up with anybody roughing up his customers.
The Shark Pit bore no resemblance to its name, having nothing to do with sharks, chum, or the water. It was a hole in the wall. A dimly lit tavern with a bar, four tables, one pool table, and a couple of video games. Food was simple: peanuts, pretzels and chips, and not the best quality on any of them.
Morio and Trillian managed to snag one of the tables. The customers came in to drink, not socialize, and for the most part, the regulars sat at the counter.
Kek meandered over, took one look at them and said, “Brandy?”
Trillian nodded. “Elfin, if you have it.”
“Only for a price. We’re down to our last bottle. It’s dear now, given the destruction of Elqaneve. Going to be extremely pricey in a few months, so if you have any, I advise you to keep hold of it for investment purposes. I recommend you try Dream Weavers…made in Ceredream and pretty tasty. Even that will be dear, soon, given the fact that the City of the East has been trounced.”
“At least they didn’t get hit as bad as Elqaneve,” Trillian said, pulling out his wallet. He tossed a twenty on the table. “Whatever that will buy.”
“Four shots, and I’m being generous.”
“That will do for a start.” Trillian waved him off. He turned to Morio. “So, have you heard from your cousin again?”
Morio shook his head. “No, and I’m beginning to think I won’t.”
“You gave him an ultimatum, so you might not. Are you prepared for that?”
Morio had been asking himself that very thing. “What I hope for and what I’m likely to get are two different things. I should have just told Camille the truth in the first place, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. With my family in Japan, I figured that I’d have time to bring them around to my side before they met.”
He paused, gauging Trillian’s reaction. The Svartan had similar problems when it came to in-laws. Camille’s father had hated Trillian, and Trillian’s family had written him off after he got involved with Camille. A real Romeo-Juliet sort of thing, only without so much death.
“How did you deal with your family? I know it didn’t go well.”
Trillian considered the question. He shrugged. “I never fit in anyway. I guess, for me, it was a matter of how much crap I was willing to take. I knew they would never accept Camille, and that left me with two choices: either stop seeing her, or walk away from my family. I figured that if they wouldn’t accept the woman I loved, they could do without me. So I left.” His eyes were a shot of ice blue against the onyx of his skin and silver of his hair. He let out a snort. “Considering the only thing they held in hope for me was money, I decided I could do without their backing. Money’s not that hard to come by.”
“My family is so focused on honor and tradition. Our people—the youkai—are bound by all these rules and expectations passed down through the millennia. It’s hard to turn my back on all of that. Kimiko, the nature spirit-goddess, personally looks after our family. I would be turning my back on her, too.” But even as he said it, Morio knew his mind was already made up.
“You would be turning your back on Grandmother Coyote if you let them sway you, and she’s one of the Hags of Fate. HoF beats Nature Spirit any day.” Trillian leaned back in his chair, eyeing the room. Weres lined the bar—it looked like some sort of bachelor party. “Face it, this life? It hasn’t gone the way any of us expected it to. I wonder if it really ever does.”
“Does what?”
“Does anybody ever reach the end of their life and think, Wow…that went the way I thought it would—no detours, no abrupt turns, no forks in the road?”
Morio grinned at him, finishing the second brandy. �
�Deep thoughts, bro. Deep thoughts.”
“Always,” Trillian countered, grinning. “I’ll make a champion chess player of you, yet.”
BY THE TIME they stumbled back to the car, Morio was mildly drunk. Trillian had stopped at drink number three, making certain he was good to drive. They sped through the silent streets. The nightlife in Seattle tended to congregate in buildings and stadiums, rather than in the middle of the streets. The ever present chill and rain that clouded the city most of the year saw to that.
As they pulled into the driveway, Morio frowned. The lights were blazing in the house—every light seemed to be on. The front door was open.
“What the hell?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” Trillian parked and they jogged over to where Vanzir was standing by the porch, scanning the yard.
“What’s going on?” Morio barely got the words out before Vanzir jerked his head toward the door.
“You’d better get inside. Emergency.”
“What the hell—” Morio lurched up the stairs. The warm buzz in his head began to fade as worry took over. Trillian followed him, punch sober.
The living room was a whirl. Nerissa was there, looking frantic, and Shade, who was frantically flipping through some sort of journal. Hanna was carrying a tea tray in, filled with tea and sandwiches. Roz was slipping on his duster—or rather, his portable armory.
“Where’s Camille? Smoky?” Morio glanced around.
“Smoky’s out at his barrow.” Roz directed the two of them to the sofa. “Your cousin showed up tonight after you left.”
Uh oh. That can’t be good, Morio thought. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to talk to Camille. He was browbeating her, trying to convince her to let you go.”
Morio growled. “I’ll beat the living hell out of him.”
Otherworld Tales Volume 1 Page 15
