by ReGi McClain
She wilted under this direct accusation, unable to argue with the logic.
Seraph looked back and forth between the check and Zeeb, her expression pained. “But ”
“No.”
Seraph’s shoulders sank. “Sorry.”
Harsha couldn’t tell if the apology was directed at herself or the check.
Zeeb stalked toward the back room with Seraph shuffling behind.
“Wait!” Harsha rallied her defenses. If they turned her down, she needed to know she put up a fight. “I’m sorry my brother left out some details, but I’m paying for this tour and I’m offering you double if you find me what I want.”
Seraph straightened, her eyes wide, pleading with Zeeb.
He shook his head. “Double isn’t enough. If you die out there…”
“I won’t die. At least, probably not. In fact, my doctor sent me to you because he thought a faerie hunt would be good for me.”
Zeeb twitched one side of his nose in an expression of incredulity. An adorable expression of incredulity, Harsha thought. It almost made him attractive. “Your doctor sent you on a tour of the Alaskan bush? Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. Brown.” Not like such a generic name helps . She pulled out her wallet to retrieve his business card.
“Brown?” both tour guides asked in unison.
“As in, Tom Brown?” Zeeb asked.
Harsha checked the first name on the card and held it out to them. “Yes. He gave me your web address.”
Zeeb ignored the card and swiveled to look at Melanie. “Get ahold of Tom for me. You”—he turned back to Harsha, his expression curious—“might want to go get a cup of coffee. I don’t know how long this will take. There’s a Kaladi Brothers not too far from here, on Fifth. North.”
Harsha took his advice and found the coffee house without trouble. A twenty-something man with half-inch holes in his earlobes took her order. With her drink warming her chilly hands, she wandered into an alcove off the main room where a reproduction of Provost’s Madonna Nursing the Infant Christ caught her eye. As she took her seat under it, she realized the baby in this painting drank from an espresso cup instead of his mother’s breast.
Sniggering at the joke, she rested her mug on the table and wrapped her fingers around it to let the warmth radiate into her hands. The heat prickled into her skin, stabbing at the stiffness caused by the cold and reminding her of childhood days spent huddled inside to stay out of the Chicago winters. Breathing deeply, she lifted her drink. She paused with the rim of the mug kissing her bottom lip. The light, sugary scent of white chocolate mingled with rich, sensuous coffee, filling her head with promises of delight unbounded. Tilting it, she let a few drops of the hot liquid slide onto her tongue. It burnt her, robbing her of the flavor for a moment.
Setting the cup down to cool, she wondered about Jason. He was probably playing video games. She checked the urge to call him, in case she slipped into scolding or trying to mother him from afar. She pulled out the small book of math puzzles she kept in her purse and started working a difficult one. She scribbled out calculations, interrupted by the moments of exquisite pleasure afforded by her breve, until someone put a hand on the other chair at her table.
“Hey, sorry to bug you, but can we use this chair if you’re not waiting for anyone?”
Realizing her puzzle had caused her to lose track of time, Harsha grabbed her purse and smiled. “I’m on my way out.”
She walked back to the tour shop to find Melanie locking up. Harsha tapped her on the shoulder.
The girl jumped and whirled. Hand on her heart, she let out a breath. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you might be my ex.”
Harsha didn’t ask for further explanation. She didn’t want to know.
“Zeeb and Seraph headed home for the night, but we got hold of Dr. Brown. He vouched for you. Big time. They decided to take you.”
Harsha wondered how much Dr. Brown had told them, but didn’t ask about that, either.
“Know where you’re staying tonight?” Melanie asked.
“No. I was under the impression the tour started as soon as I arrived.”
“Usually, yeah, but the whole medical thing…you know.”
Harsha nodded. “Do you know any good places to stay?”
“The Ramada’s close and in an okay area. Or you can crash on my dad and mom’s couch if you want.”
Harsha smiled, both touched and amused by the girl’s vicarious generosity. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll head for the Ramada.”
“Need a ride?”
“Thanks.”
Along the way, Melanie chattered about school and how Zeeb’s Tours was the best job ever. She studied physics while working for the tour company to keep herself in school. She said Seraph and Zeeb worked hard and spent all their spare time together, though the nature of their relationship eluded her.
“I don’t know if they’re like cousins or something. They sure aren’t romantic, but, if they’re not related, maybe they have benefits, you know? I don’t know. Anyway, they’re great to work for.”
Melanie fit more details about herself and her employers into the five-minute drive than the majority of documentaries squeezed into an hour. When she dropped Harsha at the Ramada, she leaned over and gave her a short hug. “Bon voyage!”
Zeeb waited near the lobby door while Harsha paid. It took a few tries to count out the bills. After she’d checked into her room the night before, she realized she left her bags at the tour office. Several purchases from the courtesy desk assured she smelled fine, but she slept poorly without her snuggly jammies.
When she approached Zeeb, he spread his lips in a flat smile and stuck out his hand. “Tom tells me you’ll do all right if we pace ourselves, so I guess I can’t refuse you on medical grounds, but I’m not happy about the omission.”
Harsha shook his hand, wrestling to keep the smug grin off her face. She should be ashamed of herself, after all, for letting Jason deceive someone on her behalf, not glad she got what she wanted anyway. Still, a little triumphant glee never hurt anyone. “I understand.”
Zeeb held open the door for her and led the way to an old Durango. “Anything else I need to know before we leave?”
An unpleasant feeling trailed across her shoulders, sending a nervous flutter down to her belly. Standard privacy laws kept most doctors from divulging their patients’ secrets, but then, standard doctors prescribed medicine, not faerie hunts. “How much did Dr. Brown tell you?”
“He said your life expectancy is low and you’d be my most interesting client.”
She caught herself before she let out an audible sigh of relief. “I think you know what you need to know.”
He nodded, his stony expression hinting he disliked the answer but accepted it.
Harsha decided to change the subject. “Are my things loaded?”
Zeeb shifted and looked uncomfortable. “Erm, yes. Melanie pulled out what you’ll need, and she’ll look after the rest.”
“But ”
“We’re backpacking in the middle of nowhere.” He checked his mirrors and pulled into traffic, his eyes smiling. “You can’t carry so much stuff for three months.” After a pause, during which Harsha searched for a compromise between professional and outraged to express her thoughts on someone rummaging through her things without permission, he added, “Seraph and I prefer our clients to be present when we cull extra luggage, but Melanie worried we’d change our minds and started before we got off the phone with Dr. Brown.”
Harsha let her ire fizzle. Getting the trip she wanted made it worth the breach of privacy, especially since she liked Melanie. She watched Zeeb drive for a while, weighing the pros and cons of trying to strike up a conversation. His eyes gave the impression of a friendly, welcoming man who enjoyed human interaction. The straight-ahead gaze told otherwise.
Not worth the effort.
She took in the sights that zipped past her window instead and snapped pictures when they stopp
ed for red lights. Zeeb drove to an airfield sporting dozens of small planes, some of which floated on a lake.
Seraph met them by a green six-seater. Her lips spread into a smile without parting, much like Zeeb’s, reminding Harsha of Melanie’s theory about the two being cousins.
“Good morning! I hope you slept well. Have you ever flown in a little plane like this before?”
Harsha returned the smile. “Not this small.”
“You’re not scared, are you? Do loud noises bother you? Or heights?”
Widening her smile in genuine amusement over her tour guide’s solicitude, Harsha shook her head.
“That’s good and bad. I’d better tell you what to be scared of.”
While she launched into a list of potential dangers and how to handle them, she helped Harsha settle into the backseat of the plane. Zeeb slid into the pilot’s seat and started up the engines. The engine roared in the small space and drowned out any further conversation, though Seraph turned often to smile at Harsha.
Harsha watched the ground flutter by under her, the hills and valleys giving it a mobility of its own. They flew to a town called Minto, north of Fairbanks, where they settled into the Minto Lake View Lodge for the night. Harsha went to bed early, snuggling into her fluffy jammies and taking advantage of her last night sleeping on a soft mattress for a while.
The next morning, bright and far too early for her taste, a friend of Zeeb’s drove them to a trailhead and dropped them off.
Her backpack boasted the most padding of the bunch, with thick foam over her shoulders, across her back, around her waist where it buckled, and a light but sturdy frame designed to support much of the weight. Nevertheless, she staggered under it. She forced her spine to stay straight against the downward pressure, fearful of compounding the expense of the trip by following it up with weekly chiropractic visits for the rest of her life.
After Seraph, who was wearing a skirt, much to Harsha’s bewilderment, checked the pack for proper positioning and rearranged items to distribute the weight across Harsha’s shoulders, they started north along a well-kept trail. It struck Harsha as an unlikely choice for hunting elusive mythical creatures, but she decided to ask about it later. Complaining now might set the tone for the whole trip.
Seraph made small talk, asking Harsha about Hawaii and her work at Ho’ola. She answered questions with little breath to spare. Her back began aching within the first thirty minutes, her feet following suit soon after. She lagged behind on a regular basis, her guides not noticing until one of their queries went unanswered because she missed it. Then Seraph would fall back, take Harsha’s elbow, and half-encourage, half-drag her along, prattling about the first day being rough. Whenever it happened, Zeeb watched without speaking while the women caught up, his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed. Harsha avoided his eyes, sure he tagged her for a liar and a weakling.
She decided she wanted to stop for lunch when her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her pack. She felt her resolve to keep from complaining slipping away, but she needed to say something. Not a complaint. Something else. A fallen log looked promising.
“It sure is pretty here. Oh, look! A fallen log. It’d make a great bench to sit on while we eat lunch.”
Zeeb turned to her with a baffled expression. “Lunch? It’s eight-thirty in the morning. We just ate breakfast.”
“Wow. I think you beat the record,” Seraph added. “The guy who held it before you weighed two-seventy-five. He made it to ten o’clock.”
Harsha shuffled to the log. “How about a snack, then?” Without waiting for approval, she slipped off her backpack.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Zeeb caught the handle of the pack and tried to hoist it back onto her.
She shrugged out from under it, indignant at his unprofessional behavior. “Why on earth not?”
“It’ll feel all the worse when you have to put it back on.”
That’s hard to believe . She ignored the advice. Her shoulders rejoiced to be free of the pack. Now, to take the weight off her legs. She patted the fallen log, looking for the driest spot.
“Uh, Ms. Mooreland, it’s not a good idea to ”
She sank onto the log. Her backside touched base and kept going, right on through. “Blaaah!”
Seraph slapped her forehead. “To sit on a log before testing it for stability.”
Zeeb grasped Harsha’s hand, his grip strong but not rough, and yanked her out of the muck. Her forward momentum, caused by the strength of his pull, halted in obeisance to his ice-blue eyes, their habitual smile dampened by a look of mixed concern and frustration.
“Be careful.” His hand slid out of hers and he walked on, stepping over the crushed log and into the forest, off the marked path.
Seraph brushed Harsha off. “There. I think I got most of the wee beasties.”
Harsha shuddered. Jason is going to laugh himself silly when he hears about this. At the moment, however, the thought of unseen bugs crawling up her back made a poor joke. She grimaced and shuddered again.
“Oh, don’t worry. There are no poisonous bugs in Alaska, and I have some cream in my pack if you get an uncomfortable bite. Come on.” Seraph smiled while she spoke. “I think Zeeb’ll find a place to camp in about an hour. We’ll work you up slowly. Good thing you paid for the whole summer.”
Harsha looked the way Zeeb went. “Isn’t it dangerous to hike alone? Because of bears?”
“Don’t worry about Zeeb.”
Easier done than said.
Harsha lacked the energy to worry about anyone. She hauled her pack onto her back. Zeeb was right. As hard as it had been to keep the pack on her shoulders, the brief respite had convinced her muscles they were done for the day. To make matters worse, the log she fell through hid abundant moisture, which covered the entire back half of her body, sticking little bits of bark and other things she refused to contemplate to her shirt and skin. The pack ground the wetness and grime into her back. She groaned, all pride and dignity squashed along with any bugs unlucky enough to be under her backpack.
Seraph walked on, following Zeeb’s invisible trail. Harsha trudged behind, shoulders sunken and feet dragging. She kept her eyes on Seraph, mimicking each step, until she lost interest in all but the sight of her guide going ever forward. Unlike the times she fell into hyper-focus at work when she forgot all other necessities, she remained aware of every miserable sensation. None of them mattered. Nothing mattered but the pair of feet leading ever onward. Some irksome part of her mind not occupied with putting one foot in front of the other wondered if she had died when she fell through the log and wandered into hell.
Chapter 7
The camp came out of nowhere. One moment, Harsha was trailing after Seraph’s feet, and the next she tripped over the corner of a pup tent. Without so much as a word to her guides or an eye to her needs, she dropped her pack, crawled into the tent, and fell asleep.
In much too short a time, cold, hunger, and the unrelenting call of nature roused her. She grunted as she pulled herself onto hands and knees.
“Sounds like our sleeping beauty is awake,” Seraph said. “I’ll show her where to attend to necessities before it gets any darker. You cook her fish.”
Before Harsha could muster enough gumption to move, Seraph poked her head into the tent. “You look about as alive as a spawned-out salmon.”
Harsha, clueless as to the meaning of the expression and not caring to learn it, groaned in response.
“Here, let me help.” Seraph squatted, hooked her elbows under Harsha’s armpits, and hauled.
The pain was horrific. The detached part of Harsha’s brain pointed out the sounds her mouth emitted were not at all ladylike and she ought to be ashamed for making them in front of people she’d hired. The rest of her mind shouted profanities at the reasonable part of her consciousness and whatever else it found to abhor including, but not limited to, the universe and all contained therein.
Seraph guided Harsha behind a
tree and deposited her there to figure out how to pee in the woods without making a mess of herself. When Harsha had accomplished that, Seraph helped her to a stream further away. Without breaking pace, she trudged into it, taking Harsha with her, until the water reached their waists. The frigid glacial water shocked Harsha into full awareness.
“Can you swim in a current? Will you be all right if I step away?” Seraph asked as she pressed soap and a washcloth into Harsha’s hands.
Current? I live in Hawaii. I can swim in a rip tide. “Y-y-y-y.” Her teeth chattered. She settled for nodding her head.
“Good. I’ll go get a towel and some fresh clothes for you.”
Harsha pulled off her mucky, wet clothes and threw them onto the shore. She considered slicking the soap over herself as fast as possible to reduce her time in the cold water. Recalling her fall through the log, she opted for a good scrub. She rallied enough moxie to wash her hair and dunked her entire body under the water several times.
Seraph waited on the shore wearing a peach-colored chemise and orange corset and holding a towel and pajamas for Harsha.
Seraph wrapped the towel around Harsha when she emerged from the water. “I warmed it for you.”
Harsha chose not to comment on the odd choice of clothing. Maybe Seraph hoped to encourage the fantastical mood. The girl in glitter was due to show up soon, or something like that.
Careful to keep surprise and curiosity off her face, Harsha snuggled into the comfortable towel. It took the edge off the surface chill, but the cold in her bones persisted. She nodded her thanks rather than fighting her chattering teeth.
“Zeeb set up the tent you and I will share for the rest of the trip. He usually sleeps in his tent alone.”
Harsha grimaced. She hadn’t thought about whose tent she might be crawling into. She’d just crawled in.
“For tonight, he’ll sleep with us. Your clothes were still damp and grimy when you crawled in, so his tent needs to air.”
Great. I not only crawled into the wrong tent, I made a mess of it. Now Zeeb thinks I’m a lying, wimpy, intrusive slob. “S-s-s-sorry.”
