by ReGi McClain
Seraph came up beside her. “You deserved that,” she whispered. “The way you looked at him before wasn’t very nice.”
Eyes on the ground, Harsha nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. He just… I don’t know. Sometimes all I can see is the blood from SoPHE.”
“Well, you need to get over that. Those people practically asked for it and he’d never hurt you. He has pants on now, by the way. Not that it should matter, given the two of you have a kid together.”
Harsha quirked her lips and arched her brow in an incredulous expression. “An adopted teenager who’s only going to live with one of us at a time.”
Seraph lifted her shoulders. “That could change.”
“Here you are, dearie.” Nanny, in human form, emerged and gave four miniscule jars to Zeeb. “Instructions on the label. We better get going. This way to the farmer’s car.”
Harsha dimmed her tablet’s screen to keep her game of minesweeper from bothering her seatmates. The flight, yet another standby that scattered Harsha’s little group, seemed to be going well thanks to Nanny’s concoction keeping Seraph unconscious, but she found herself reluctant to go to sleep in case something went wrong. She tapped squares and worked minor calculations to discover the hidden bombs on her screen.
A hand settled on her aisle-side arm. She looked up to see Zeeb and smiled at him. He checked the aisle for traffic before kneeling beside her. “Hey. I wanted to…” He paused to look behind her.
Harsha turned to see one of her seatmates, a girl in her late teens, smiling at Zeeb. She wore heavy, black eye-liner, violet eye shadow and matching lipstick, and sported two-and-a-half inch, red spikes behind her thick, purple, side-swept bangs. Her cheap, flimsy t-shirt clung to show off a slight frame and stopped short to reveal a belly-button piercing. She lowered her chin and tucked one side of her lip under her teeth. Behind the girl, a graying man who looked better equipped to cause serious legal trouble than to follow through on a physical threat glowered at Zeeb.
Harsha pursed her lips to catch the laugh wanting to bubble out and turned back to Zeeb.
Zeeb cleared his throat, shifted, and leaned closer to her. “I wanted to ask if ”
The girl leaned over Harsha. “You can have my number? Sure.”
Zeeb’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Erm, I left my phone… somewhere.”
A snort escaped Harsha. She covered her mouth and pretended to cough. “Here.” Swallowing another laugh with great difficulty, she pulled a pen and a slip of notepaper out of her purse and handed them to the girl.
“Thanks. You know…” The girl wrote her number in large, swirling characters. “You two could switch seats.” She held the paper out to Zeeb and winked.
Zeeb stared at the paper, eyebrows hovering high.
Harsha accepted it for him. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t lose it by mistake. And that’s not a bad idea. I think his seat is closer to our other friends.”
Zeeb’s eyes bulged at her.
“Cool.” The girl bit her lower lip and wiggled her shoulders.
Harsha stood and eased around Zeeb. He shot to his feet and snagged her elbow. “Uh. Do you, um…” He glanced at the girl before leaning close to whisper, “Will you meet me in the lavatory, please?”
Harsha wrinkled her nose at him. “Why?”
“I have a question.”
“It can’t wait until we land?”
“Things will be crazy, then.”
Harsha rolled her eyes. “Fine. You go first. I’ll grab my purse for the switch.”
Zeeb opened his mouth, paused, snapped it shut, and walked down the aisle.
It took all her willpower to keep from laughing. She smiled at the smug-looking teenager and irate-looking man. “He’ll be back. Don’t worry, sir. He’s not the flirtatious type.”
The red ebbed from the man’s face, but the girl’s lip curled.
Harsha rushed to the lavatories to keep ahead of her chuckles, wondering what in the world induced Zeeb to arrange a clandestine meeting in a toilet closet. Aside from the flirtatious teenager, of course. A flight attendant quirked an eyebrow, but went about his business when Zeeb opened the door for her. Blushing, she stepped into the stall and leaned to her left to let him lock the door behind her.
The tiny room gave them no space to move. The inch left between them filled with their body heat. In a romantic setting, the close proximity might encourage further closeness. In a lavatory, it added to Harsha’s embarrassment.
“So, what do you want to ask?”
“How serious are you about finding merfolk?”
“Serious enough to pay for it. Why?”
“You’re sure you don’t need time? You kinda freaked out when we booked this trip.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and looked toward her toes. She saw more of Zeeb’s feet than her own. “Sorry about that. I think I’ll be okay. Even if I’m not, it can’t be worse than...” Her words trailed off as she pictured herself sitting in a nursing home, too sick to work, too decrepit for Kel to visit, and dependent on hired caregivers who saw her as just another paycheck. “To be honest, I’d rather get myself killed trying to find merfolk than wait around to die.”
Zeeb closed the miniscule space between them to wrap her in a hug. “If you’re sure.”
Harsha left her arms at her side, but rested her cheek against his chest to accept the comfort he offered. “I’m sure.”
“Then I think you should come to my place. I have a few old books with information that isn’t on the internet. Yet. Besides….” His heart rate quickened. “My parents want to meet you.”
“Me?” She leaned away to look up at him. “Why?”
“It would increase the likelihood of finding a way to treat you if they examined you personally. Your records are…” He shrugged. “Not as helpful as you’d think, given their volume, but you’re fascinating. Genetically, I mean. Not that you aren’t fascinating in other respects!” His cheeks turned pink. “You are, but that’s not why they want to meet you. I mean, they do want to meet you because you’re fascinating, just not genetically.”
She quirked a brow at him. “Do you need time to rehearse?”
He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I want you to meet them .”
Her turn to feel shy and awkward. She saw merit in Zeeb’s suggestion, the part about finding a treatment made sense, but the last part sounded like taking a girlfriend home for the parent test. Maybe she misinterpreted it, though. She considered Zeeb a close friend and close friends usually met each other’s families, and her unusual genealogy gave his parents an objective reason for wanting to meet her. As for herself, putting off facing Jason and Kel’s empty rooms sounded appealing. “Okay. I’ll see if we can change flights from Honolulu to Anchorage when we get to Denver.”
“Great!”
“Cool.”
Zeeb wrinkled his nose. “We should get out of here.”
“Agreed.”
“Thanks for meeting me.”
“No problem. Oh! Wait.” She pulled the piece of paper with the teenager’s number on it out of her purse. “Before I forget.” She tucked the number into his shirt pocket.
He plucked it out, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash. “Uh, yeah. Tell her it’s nothing personal.”
“Tell her yourself.”
“What?” He gave her a blank expression, as if her words had gone over his head.
“We’re switching seats, remember? I told her dad you’re a gentleman, so try to keep your hands to yourself.”
“We’re not switching seats.”
“But you promised that sweet girl.”
“You promised her. Not me.”
“Oh, come on. She’s cute.”
“Harsha, if you make me switch seats, I’ll be forced to exact vengeance.”
“’Forced to exact vengeance?’” She laughed, but a shiver ran up her spine. She felt guilty for thinking it, but if he ever decided to hurt her, he could make her beg for death.
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“Oh, don’t worry. You’d survive.”
His words failed to comfort either her guilt or her sudden fear of him. She giggled and hoped she sounded playful. “Well, since you threatened me, I will make you change seats.”
Zeeb shrugged and gave her the most wolfish grin she had ever seen. “If you insist.” He put his hand on the latch.
Turbulence pitched her into him. He sat with a thud on the miniature toilet, banging his head on the wall on the way down, arms and legs splayed. She face-planted into his shoulder, backside against the door. Mortified, she scrambled off him only to tumble backwards when the turbulence tilted the other direction and then toward him as the plane jolted. She stretched out a hand to catch herself, calculated its trajectory, and decided to take the hit on her face instead. She slammed into his chest. His rock-hard chest, as it turned out. Her nose ached and she anticipated numerous purple splotches on her face, but at least she remained ignorant of certain intimate anatomical details.
Zeeb braced himself by widening his stance so the outer sides of both his feet pressed into the walls. He caught Harsha on her next stumble and pulled her down to sit on his lap. For several minutes that rivaled being caught naked on a hilltop on Harsha’s embarrassment scale of slightly awkward to kill me now , they rode out the bumping and jolting of the airplane.
When it leveled, she jumped off his lap and exited the lavatory posthaste. He let her get through the door, but caught her arm as he stepped out with her. He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “Remember when you thanked me for adopting Maura?”
The memory brought a little warmth to her cheeks. She wondered why he brought it up. “Yes.”
Zeeb smirked, pecked her on the cheek, and said, “You’re welcome,” loud enough for everyone in the immediate area to hear him.
The flight attendant who’d watched them go in grinned and held up a fist. Zeeb bumped the flight attendant’s fist and high-fived a guy in the back row as he went by. Harsha’s whole face burned. Enormously thankful most of the passengers were asleep, she slunk to Zeeb’s seat, slid in, and tried to melt into the upholstery.
Chapter 25
Thanks to Nanny’s jar, Seraph completed the trip back to New York without incident, to Harsha’s immeasurable relief. Changing the last flight from Honolulu to Anchorage took gobs of money and much schmoozing of customer service agents, but they made it. Coming face to face with the chilly dark of winter in Alaska, however, sent Harsha skittering back to the ticket desk, offering her kingdom for the next flight home. Seraph dragged her away.
After a night in a hotel, they loaded themselves into a small plane with skis for landing gear, one of three planes Zeeb owned, she learned, and took off for his family’s property near a community called Glenallen. She stared out the window, contemplating the change in the scenery since her last visit. Instead of shades of emerald and jade, dark spruce mingled with the browns and grays of naked deciduous trees. Snow laced between the trees like threads woven into a haphazard web, steely dark lakes squatting on the gossamers like spiders feeling for their prey. White glaciers, touched by pale blue at their edges, separated one web from another. Where the sun shone, the snow cast back the light to dazzle Harsha. Where the clouds reigned, the dark wash of gloom tainted everything.
They landed on a frozen lake. A man and woman, surrounded by dogs, waited within the tree line. Except for a longer beard, a shorter haircut, and extra wrinkles, the man could be Zeeb’s twin. Harsha recognized the perpetual smile loitering around his eyes from a distance.
Zeeb’s mother held a bundle in her arms. She moved with grace, her figure soft but healthy. She wore her auburn hair in a tyrannical bun that left her hazel eyes free of wispy strands. Like Zeeb, she wore a set of dog license tags, but on a crystal-studded collar serving as a choker rather than a spiked one. Her smile lit her entire face, crinkling the corners of her eyes with an elegant combination of joy and wisdom.
Zeeb held out a hand to help Maura and Harsha hop out. The frigid air assaulted Harsha, sucking life out of her lungs, making freeze-dried jerky of her skin, and piercing her bones.
Zeeb’s father sauntered over to clap his son on the back.
“Dad, Mom, this is ”
“Maura.” The bearded man folded Maura into a hug. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. My boy, Zeeb, will take good care of you or he’ll answer to me.” With an extra squeeze and a wink, he released her.
Maura, eyes humungous, offered a lopsided twitch of her lips in lieu of spoken greeting.
“And this is Harsha.”
Zeeb’s father embraced Harsha with startling affection, like a long lost uncle or distant grandfather. Her first impulse was to pull away, but his big, hairy arms and bushy beard gave her a nice respite from the cold.
Zeeb cleared his throat. “Harsha, this is my dad, Ralph, and my mom, Ylva.” He waved toward his mom.
Ylva draped a blanket over Harsha’s shoulders. “Welcome, Harsha. I hear you have a fondness for herbal teas.” She glanced at Zeeb, her eyes gleaming. “Would you like some Pineapple Weed tea? I picked and dried it myself.”
“Thanks.” Harsha snuggled into the blanket while Ylva wrapped Maura in another one.
Seraph hoisted luggage out of the plane. “You go in. The cold doesn’t bother us.”
“This way.” Ylva beckoned.
With Maura’s hand wrapped around hers, Harsha followed Ylva up a small footpath into the wood. Dogs bounced and trotted alongside her, yipping in welcome. Behind her, she heard Zeeb ask, “Got all the bags, Seraph?”
“Got them.”
Harsha turned back to see Zeeb and Ralph lift the small plane over their heads and carry it to a shed. She watched Zeeb until a furry body worked its way between her legs, causing her to trip. Maura’s grip kept her from falling onto the hapless dog. Hoping no one had noticed her staring, she faced forward and concentrated on the extreme cold to keep her mind off the memory of Zeeb rolling kinks out of his muscular back after a long morning of dragon-saddle building.
The stroll to the house took about five minutes, during which Harsha huddled close to Maura, who seemed unbothered by the weather. Dogs both small and large wove in and out of their legs as they walked, slowing their progress. The trees provided good wind cover, but the bitter cold gnawed Harsha’s exposed skin like ants devouring her one nip at a time. When she saw the tall house, she picked up the pace, eager to get inside. The dogs yipped and jumped with increased excitement, as if they believed her faster pace to be an invitation to play tag.
Warmth rushed out to embrace her when the door opened. She hurried in to let the heat envelop her. A rubber mat for shoes and a coat hook stood ready to the right of the door to receive her things. Rather than walls or partitions, groupings of furniture marked the functions of each part of the bottom floor.
Harsha doffed her coat and boots without surrendering the blanket and made a beeline for the large, inviting fireplace in one corner of the room. She took a seat on the floor a few inches from the hearth, blanket wrapped around her. Maura followed, but settled with her back to a couch several feet from the fire.
A plump young dark-skinned woman with glasses and bobbed hair bounced out of one of the rooms beyond the central spiral staircase, headed for the kitchen. “Hey, Harsha! Hey, Maura!”
“Umm. Hello.” Harsha looked over the young woman, racking her brains for a hint of recognition.
“We haven’t met. Zeeb talks about you a lot.” The woman grabbed a bowl that looked like an oversized version of one of Harsha’s crystal candy dishes and flounced over to the couch. “I’m Margarita. Jerky?” She pulled a piece of jerky from the bowl and chomped into it before holding the bowl out to Harsha. “Ylva makes it herself. I hated it before I got bitten, but I love it, now.”
‘Bitten.’ So she’s one of their werewolf patients. Why is Zeeb talking about me to a patient? Harsha huddled into the blanket. Shivers trilled up and down her spine in spite of the painful heat of the fire. She want
ed to move closer to it, but feared singeing the blanket or herself. “No, thank you.”
“What about you, Maura?”
Maura shrank away from the friendly werewolf and shook her head.
Harsha pulled her blanket tighter around herself. She found Margarita’s easy familiarity intimidating. Ralph and Ylva’s automatic welcome made some sense, in light of their intimate knowledge of her medical history and her friendship with Zeeb, but no one had told her about Margarita. She supposed mentioning patients to her violated patient privacy acts, if the Lowells followed such laws in their unusual practice, but if so, it seemed to her she should be treated with the same respect. Of course, Zeeb may have mentioned her as a friend. Margarita said he talked about her, not that his parents spoke of her. Still, she felt blindsided and under-informed.
Ylva placed a mug of tea on a coffee table near Harsha. Harsha picked up the mug and transferred to the corner of the couch furthest from Margarita. Relishing the tingly heat radiating into her hands, she brought the mug close to her lips. Hot steam rolled into her lungs, clearing her head and scenting the air with a fruity, chamomile-like fragrance. The tea, sweetened with a touch of honey, flowed over her tongue and drizzled down her throat in a stream of liquid warmth she felt all the way down.
Margarita, now occupied with enough jerky for four people, asked no more questions, relieving Harsha of the burden of conversation. Maura swirled a mug of tea with her nose wrinkled and one brow raised.
Ylva set a bowl of tuna in front of her. “Better?”
Nodding, Maura dug into the fish.
A tsunami of cold air rushed over Harsha as the back door opened to admit Seraph, Zeeb, and Ralph. The three of them laughed and stamped snow off their feet. Harsha heard the proceedings but watched the hypnotic dance of the fire rather than turning to look at the people coming in.
A moment later, Zeeb walked into the living area holding a mug of steamy liquid and crowded by five or six dogs. Harsha smiled in greeting. His smile seemed wider than usual and his eyes shone brighter. He made to sit on the couch between her and Margarita, but Margarita hopped into the middle of the couch, leaving no room for Zeeb next to Harsha.
