by Jen Crane
“It’s true,” Timbra squeaked from behind me, then cleared her throat and stated with more force, “It’s true. I’m seeing Boone Adder. I like him very much, Father. I think I might love him.”
Instead of espousing more rage at her admission, his face crumpled like sodden parchment. He turned his head, closed his eyes, and wheezed with suppressed emotion.
That was my cue to leave. I squeezed Timbra’s hand to convey my solidarity and headed for Sabre Hall.
* * *
As I trudged up the wide stone steps, Pia alerted me to a note waiting at the front desk. Oh hell, I thought. Gresham. I snatched the note from my little mail slot behind the counter and opened the crisp white envelope with dread. But it wasn’t from Gresham at all. I glanced ahead to the last line, which only held a scribbled “SD.”
I’ll be at the cafe on Ulmo Street today from 12:30 to 2:00.
Would enjoy seeing you again.
Dad and Granny say hello.
SD
SD, I thought. Dad and Granny? Then I got it. Stryde Drakontos. What the hell was he doing in town? During the day. And at a cafe, no less. I checked Pia for the time. It was 1:30 and I had another class at 2:00. I’d have to hurry.
Chapter 16
Thankful for tracing in a time crunch, I went as far as I’d been downtown and used PiaMaps the rest of the way. Though it was mid-day, the street was so lined with old trees that it was shaded and cool. Several small tables lined the street ahead. It was impossible to be too cautious, so I peeked through the window of Cafe Bjorn. There were only a few patrons, but a booth at the back of the restaurant was conspicuously occupied. He wore a hat over his dark hair and sat low in the booth, but it was unmistakably Stryde.
Three little bells chimed as I entered, attracting the attention of a husky woman behind the bar. She nodded but never moved her concentration from the tasks behind the counter. Stryde saw me and started to rise, but I waved him back down and looked around nervously. The whole situation had me on edge.
I slid into the booth and wasted no time to whisper, “What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”
“No one will recognize me, Stella. I was young when I,” he paused ever-so-slightly, “left, and I’m not so well known as Dad and Granny. Besides, I wore a disguise.”
“The hat? Yeah, not fooling anyone. I knew you right away.”
His lips turned up in what was meant to be a smile. It was the first time I’d seen him attempt one, to my recollection, and it was off. Like he’d borrowed it from someone and it didn’t fit right. Maybe with some alterations or if he could fill it out better. In its current state, though, the gesture was disarming.
“Oh, here comes the waitress,” I said. “She won’t recognize you, will she?”
“Of course she will. I’ve known her since I was a child. Stella,” he said as she approached, “this is Deandra Bjorn, an old friend of my family. Deandra, Stella—my cousin.”
“It’s true, then,” she breathed. “You’re Edina’s. I didn’t believe it.”
I shrugged and mumbled “Nice to meet you” as she studied my features. She reminded me of the women I used to see back home—the ones you knew just by looking at them came from a long line of farming families. Strong-backed, barrel-chested women with biceps and quads that would put weight lifters to shame. Women who could give birth to a strapping son one day and be back on the tractor the next.
“So this is one of the people who’s helping you?” I asked, once Deandra left for my water.
“Yes, Deandra’s family and my family—your family—have been close for many years.”
“How do you know that you can trust them?”
“Magical families like ours have always stuck together. We have to.”
“What do you mean, ‘magical families’?” I asked.
“Well, our family isn’t your typically-evolved squirrel or salamander. We’re descended of dragons, a mighty, magical creature. As is your father’s omni blood,” he mused. “So you have magical forbearers on both sides.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying ‘magical creatures’ like unicorns and merpeople? Is that what you’re talking about?”
Stryde lifted a sleek black brow. “Merpeople are just regular people with aquatic ancestors. It’s likely someone in your world caught a glimpse of one of us, and thus a myth was born.”
“Uh-huh. And unicorns? You gonna tell me they’re real, too?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Stryde shook his head as if I’d lost my mind.
“Me? You think I’m being ridiculous?”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. The implication of course was that’s exactly what he thought.
“Deandra’s family are great bears,” Stryde went on after clearing his throat. “Besides their powerful natural animal forms, they’re also magical skinchangers. They can inhabit the minds of animals. Or people. And because people fear being inhabited, throughout history Deandra’s family has faced prejudice. Not to the extreme we dragons face now, but prejudice as a result of fear, nonetheless.”
Stryde’s green eyes clouded over as his thoughts took him far away. “Several hundred years ago a woman murdered her own husband, her entire family. When they caught her she claimed she’d been possessed. Fear spread like wildfire of the Bjorns and others like them. Everyone known to be a skinchanger was rounded up by mobs and accused of awful, evil things. People who the week before patronized the Bjorn’s general store—who hired Deandra to babysit their children—they lost their minds to fear of the unknown, the unusual. They accused the neighbors they’d known their entire lives of intending to mind-rape them.”
“My god. That’s awful.” I’d not heard the story, though it was similar to so many throughout history. Fear of the unknown, prejudice, and violence against those that were different. It was a tragic story that repeated itself time and again. “What happened? To the woman. To the Bjorns.”
“The woman was discovered to be schizophrenic and had hurt her family in a psychotic episode. The Bjorns and others like them were innocent, though they faced continued prejudice. They do still, but refuse to back down. They opened this cafe. They continue to serve and help their neighbors in spite of everything.”
“Exceptional people,” I said.
“They are. They’ve been instrumental in our survival since escaping Brandubh.”
I nodded and took another look at Deandra, this time with much more appreciation for her people, her history, her heart.
I came back to the present after a quick glance at the time. “Stryde, I’m sorry. I only had half an hour until my next class. I have to run. Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“Oh,” he said and blinked several times in short succession. “No.” His disappointment was evident in his stiffened shoulders. “I only wanted to get to know you better.”
The admission was a departure from the bizarre and detached demeanor I’d encountered before. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time for that,” I said and waved away his seriousness.
I left the cafe admiring Stryde’s bravery for overcoming his crippling fear and myriad issues in order to get to know me, his estranged cousin, better.
Chapter 17
Timbra never took the seat I saved her at our two o’clock Metamorphosis class. She didn’t show for lab, either.
“Where’s Timbra?” Boone asked during lab. “It’s not like her to miss class. I sent a text earlier, but she hasn’t answered.”
“Ah, her dad’s in town,” I evaded. Not my story to tell. “Last I saw, the two of them were talking outside Sabre.”
“Oh. Okay,” he said, but the wrinkle between his brow remained.
I really hoped Timbra and her dad could work through the issue. Boone was a great guy, and it was obvious that he and Timbra were crazy about each another.
They complimented one another like coffee and cream. Boone was funny and sarcastic without being insincere. He was personable in an almost forceful way—h
e made you like him, whether you intended to or not. Timbra, though, was an introvert and nearly froze with fear in social situations. She was as good as gold and had a whip-smart wit, but only a few close friends knew it. Boone and Timbra were one of those couples that were halves alone, but together made an exceptional whole. She tempered his outrageousness and he soothed her timidity.
* * *
Something was wrong. I knew it the moment I stepped foot in my room. I heard Timbra’s sniffling, but I felt her despair. A fog of sadness so dense I nearly swiped the air around me permeated our adjoining suites. I tossed my books and Pia onto my chair and rushed through our shared bathroom before knocking on her door.
“Timbra? Can I come in?”
A hiccuped sob was the only answer. A hairline fracture started at the top corner and ran the length of my heart.
“Sweetie, I know you’re there. And I know you’re upset. Can I come in?”
I didn’t wait for her answer, but pushed open the door. She lay face down in her bed, drowning in covers. All that was exposed were her tawny ears, and even those drooped. Her willowy form shook beneath the blankets as her body wracked with sobs.
My fractured heart cracked open completely upon witnessing the manifestation of her pain. Tears sprung to my own eyes, and I rushed to her side. I was at a loss what to do once I got there. All I could think to do was to lay my hand on her back. Maybe my presence was of some comfort.
After a while the shaking stopped, and so did her choked sobs. I sat motionless, afraid to breathe, and waited for her next move.
“Stella?” Timbra’s voice was muffled beneath the blankets.
“Yes,” I said just above a whisper.
“Will you get me a tissue? I’m covered in snot.”
The statement caught me off guard and I chuckled in response. “Sure thing.”
She extended one lithe hand from beneath the covers and I stuffed it with tissues.
A few moments later she emerged from her cocoon and sat up in bed. Her lovely face was a splotchy mess. She tried to rally, but was so downtrodden that her posture slumped, her eyes drooped in sorrow, and her lips threatened to quiver at any moment. She was on the verge of breaking down again.
“I never thought I’d say this, Timbra Redfern, but you look like hell.”
She sniffed and wiped beneath her bloodshot eyes. When she found the nerve to swing them in my direction my breath left in a rush. Her eyes revealed such pain. I didn’t have to ask to know that her father didn’t change his mind about Boone.
“Wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head in an emphatic ‘no.’
“Okay. Wanna get drunk?”
She nodded her head in an emphatic ‘yes.’
“Perfect. I’ve got us covered.”
I left to snag two wine glasses and a bottle of pinot noir from my little buffet. I turned to go back into her room, but heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a deep voice. The wine glasses were the least of my worries, and I started for her room when I realized who was talking.
“Timbra?” Boone pleaded, his voice pinched with concern. “My gods, Timbra, what’s wrong? I’ve been trying to find you all afternoon.”
She burst into tears again, and the bed creaked beneath Boone’s weight as he rushed to her side. I returned the wine and glasses, and left my room to give the two some privacy.
It was dinner time, but I didn’t much feel like dining alone. When I traced just outside Layla’s door to invite her along I heard noises coming from her room, too. But these were on another plane than Timbra and Boone’s emotionally charged situation. Moans and gasps seeped beneath the door, as did hushed words.
“Wow. Okay,” I thought. “Guess Mari has the night off.” I traced down to Sabre Bar, where I knew at least one friendly face would be.
Knox added clear alcohol to a tall glass, raising the bottle high while he poured in a dramatic flourish. He looked up and nodded when he saw me, mouthing “Hello Jeenjah,” yet didn’t spill a drop. I shook my head on a grin, and continued to watch as he snagged a long, thin cucumber slice and twisted it down into the glass.
“Hey, Stella,” a woman’s friendly voice rang from behind me. I squinted in confusion before comprehension dawned. Dread and disapproval weighed heavily in my stomach.
“Hi,” I croaked before clearing my throat. “Hi, Mari. Looks busy tonight.”
“Yes, for a Wednesday. You doin’ okay? You look a bit pale.”
“A long day,” I evaded. Damn Layla. I adored Mari. I’d thought the two of them were happy together. Of course, I didn’t know the details of their relationship. Maybe they weren’t exclusive. Best not to get into their business, I thought. “See ya, Mari. I’m going to Cafe Row for a little dinner.”
“All right, girl. Have a good one.”
I closed my eyes and threw my head back at having one more thing to worry about. What a freakin’ day.
I traced to the lovely collection of small restaurants that lined the cliff overlooking the Basel river as it meandered by the Radix campus. It had become one of my most treasured spots, and I relaxed a little as I approached my favorite purveyor of wood-fired pizza.
“Evening, Nick,” I said and took a stool along the high bar that opened to the walk.
“Stella,” he acknowledged. “The usual?”
My lips twisted despite my somber mood at the thought that I had a ‘usual.’ The small glass of wine he procured from thin air was heaven-sent.
“Your pizza will be right out.”
I spun in my stool from the wood-fire oven to face the breathtaking view of the river and the fertile fields beyond. My neck held so much tension from the day—from the last several days—that it was tight and sore. I rolled my shoulders and stretched my neck from side to side, my eyes falling closed in reflex.
“I can help with that,” a smooth male voice offered.
With my eyes still closed I took a deep breath and wished with every fiber of my being that it wasn’t happening. But it was.
I peeked open an eye and found Rowan Gresham standing before me in all his masculine glory.
“Oh, god, help me,” I said beneath my breath and scrubbed my eyes.
“No one can get you out of this conversation,” he said with a smile that would melt a glacier. “Not even god.”
“All right, Gresham,” I said and steeled my nerves. “Let’s do this.”
He approached where I sat on the stool and sidled between my legs like he owned me. Warm hands gripped the back of my neck, and strong fingers massaged the base of my skull. He had such skill, such confidence, that it all happened before I remembered he was a lying bastard, I couldn’t trust him, and we were through.
“No, Gresham,” I whined. Then more firmly, “No. You wanna talk? Fine. But that’s it.”
He pulled his hands from my neck, making a point to run his fingers across my tender collar bone, but he remained between my legs. “It’s not what you think, Stella,” he said as he grasped the outside of my thighs, caging me between the counter and his body.
“Oh, that’s a new one.” It was obvious he had no intention of moving away from me. The pace of my heart picked up. I began to feel threatened. Frightened. I pushed hard at his stomach until he extricated himself from me, but he backed up only far enough that we weren’t touching.
I sat up straighter and aimed for brave. “You’ve deceived me and withheld the truth at every opportunity. You say you care about me, but still you can’t come clean—about things that directly involve me! I don’t trust you for one second, Rowan Gresham, and this,” I pointed between the two of us, “is over.”
“Oh, it is not over, Stella,” he growled and loomed over me. “I promise you that. I’ll never let you go so easily. You think I got where I am by letting what I want escape my grasp?” He shook his head with a menace that made my blood run cold. “Think again.” He’d stepped so close to me his hips pressed against my knees.
I had to look up at h
im, but I didn’t back down.
“You don’t want me, you arrogant asshole. You want to monitor and dissect me. To control me. And I strongly suspect you want to discover how you could use my rare forms to your advantage.”
“Yes, Stella, your lineage is exceptional,” he admitted. “Possibly unmatched in its potential. Do you think in my position as protector of Thayer I can let something like you just walk away? Something with the potential to protect or decimate entire populations? No. I will never do that. But rather than treat you like something to fear, I found you irresistible. Find you irresistible. I want you still, both for who you are and what you are.”
He reached to caress my cheek but I flinched. Something. He’d said something rather than someone. He thought of me as a threat to be handled. A potential weapon like my mother’s people. He wanted to harness me, and was using the oldest trick in the book to do it: seduction.
I was in a tight spot, out of which I couldn’t see a clear path. My mind raced in search of options. If I ran now, Gresham would surely chase me. And he might realize there was no longer a way to catch me with honey. He’d go straight to vinegar, and although I hadn’t yet seen that side of him, I had no doubt that Rowan Gresham could be bitter and foul. It was necessary I stay on his good side and find another way.
The beginnings of a plan began to form in the back of my mind. It was a long shot, and I wasn’t sure how I’d do it, but it was a start; it was something.
“Stella, your pizza is read—” Nick cut off when he rounded the corner and comprehended the tension between Gresham and I. “Is everything all right, Stella?”
“Yes, Nick,” I said and heaved a breath in relief. “Mr. Gresham was just leaving.”
Gresham opened his mouth to protest, but when I said, “Can you take me to meet Gaspare Shaw tomorrow?” his body jerked with shock.
