by Mikea Howard
“Javier, meet Dottie.”
“Pleasure. Any friend of Tim’s . . .” Tilting his head, Javier said, “Have we met before?”
“I doan’ think so. This is my first time outside of a city.”
“Hmmm.” Javier pursed his lips, furrowing his brow slightly. “Well, enjoy your spectacular meal. I put a surprise in there for you, Tim.”
Sitting across from Dottie at a table in the village center, he savored the moment. They weren’t rushed, or hiding from danger. The two of them simply enjoyed a meal together. Never dropping his gaze, he ate his meal as they traded casual conversation.
He took a big bite as Dottie described the trees draped with Spanish moss she’d grown up with. Eyes watering, Tim dropped his focus to discover the cook had hidden a whole pepper on his plate, making the final piece of meat extra hot. He glared up to Javier through his tears.
The Spaniard laughed and stepped back.
A flash of red hair caught Tim’s attention. The woman it belonged to waved one arm at him, holding a bundle in the other. Hopping to his feet, he brushed Dottie’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. I have someone for you to meet.”
Quick steps ate up the distance between him and his friend. “I’m sorry I missed the birth, Molly. I got a little hung up.”
She smiled and he knew she’d already forgiven him. Molly held a little squirming body, wrapped in a pink blanket, cradled close to her. A cap covered what likely was a shock of red curls, like her mother’s. Round, rosy cheeks highlighted the baby’s moss green eyes, already more alert than normal. Of course, with an owl mom and wolf dad the little girl was already special. He searched behind Molly, expecting to find said wolf.
With a tired smile, one he’d understood most mothers held–full of joy but tinged with a lack of sleep–she said, “He took baby duty last night, and Nettie decided it was time ta play . . . and fuss. I know you woulda’ been here if you coulda’.”
“Nettie?”
“Yes, well it’s a nickname for Garnett.” Leaning over to stare past him, she gasped. “Here.” She handed the baby off, assuring he had a good hold, and ran over to the table he’d just stepped away from.
Following behind Molly, Tim’s heart skipped a beat when the infant curled its tiny digits around his index finger. Gazing at her, his breath caught in his throat as the power of her old soul hit him like a freight train. Bumping his shins against the bench, he drew his attention up to the women seated before him.
Slicking her frizzed hair back, Molly said, “Of course, I look like a brush ape when I meet Dottie DeVeaux.” She grinned. “I can’t believe yer actually here. I thought Sadie was pullin’ my chain.”
“Oh, I–” Dottie covered her mouth, chewing her bite of dinner, and blinked up at Tim.
Shifting his weight from side to side, rocking the baby, he performed the introductions. “I was journeying to visit Molly and this little one when I found you.”
Swallowing, his songbird reached out to take Molly’s hand. “Please accept my apologies for his late arrival. I didn’t mean ta keep him from you.”
Waving a hand, the owl laughed. “Please. I’m aware the AG is startin’ some trouble again, and I’m sure you needed him by yer side more than I did. I have my mate.”
Tim sat down beside the woman who owned his heart. He tilted enough to allow Dottie a glimpse of the baby. “Meet Garnett.”
“Di Mi, those cheeks.” Addressing Molly, she asked, “Is it all right if I hold her?”
“Of course. My little wowl loves ta be held.”
Dottie chuckled, settling Nettie close. “Wowl?”
“It’s somethin’ my mate, Edo made up. He’s a wolf and I’m an owl. You’ll meet him soon. Little Miss and I stepped out for a walk when we ran inta Sadie. Doan’ tell my man I didn’t even consider grabbin’ him when I heard you were here.”
Their laughter startled the baby, causing her to wail out.
Molly jumped up, ready to take her back, but stopped with Dottie’s next action.
Hushing the baby softly, Tim’s starlet waved her body side to side, and began to sing. Quiet at first, her voice grew as she took in Nettie’s response.
The little girl cooed, kicking her legs with obvious enjoyment. Her bright eyes fixed on the woman serenading her.
Molly sat back down, resting her chin in her hands, as though taking in the beauty of the voice singing to her child. She and Garnett were as bewitched by Dottie DeVeaux as he was.
As Dottie continued to belt out her song, Tim became aware she’d drawn the attention of most of the pack in the common area. They’d formed a circle around the table, enjoying her impromptu concert.
When his woman ended the tune, giving a quick tickle to Nettie’s belly, she shifted her gaze up to him, smiling brightly. With a gasp, she glanced around at everyone else pulled in close, blushing a deep crimson. Her eyes grew wide, as though worried she’d done something wrong, but then the applause started.
Behaving like a trained showgirl, Dottie regained her composure immediately. Dipping her head at the crowd, she passed little Garnett over to her mother.
Molly hugged Dottie, speaking quietly in her ear. Tim caught wisps of it, but tried not to eavesdrop. If Molly shared sight with her, she meant it for Dottie. She would tell him what she wished, but it had to be her choice.
As an owl, even though she couldn’t shift, Molly happened to be one of the most powerful seers in the Americas. She’d recently been a target of the AG, therefore would be an apt confidant and friend for Dottie.
“I knew I recognized you,” Javier called out, moving in closer. “When I first arrived on this continent I saw you. You’d just made your debut, well before I settled in here. You sing more beautiful now, without even trying.” Sighing deeply, he added, “And I’d sworn you couldn’t be topped then.” Turning, he clapped Tim on his shoulder. “You know the way to my cabin. Once there, you can make yourselves at home.”
Chapter 15
Sitting on their host’s small couch, Dottie jammed her fingers through her hair, frustrated by the lack of progress they’d made in the last two days.
For endless hours, she and Tim studied an ancient map of North America, with all the post-Diesel War military sectors hand-drawn on it. They only taught her generation the numbers in school, but she’d taken it upon herself to know the old state names also. She knew she’d grown up in the old state of South Carolina, which they now called Sector Two. Her hometown, along with everything south of it, had changed names after the officials signed the boundary treaties.
Pointing to the salt shaker Tim placed over New York, she insisted, “He may have had accounts in Sector One, but it’s further away than Six.” She stabbed her finger into the small soft cookie set over Los Angeles. Bringing it up, she popped it into her mouth.
“I know we’re tight on time, Na-qui-si, but you have to take into consideration they spent the last of their lives in the North and Southeast. Therefore, it strikes me as most likely they’d hold bank accounts in Sectors One or Two.”
She swallowed her snack. “But my grandparents’ deadly wreck happened here.” Dottie slid a crumb to Kansas City, in Sector Four. “Which means they might have been headin’ back home from the west.”
Guilt, for not making it to their funeral, washed over her. Missing it would be a weight she’d carry until she joined them in the afterlife. Then apologizing to them would be second on her list; the first being an enormous hug.
Dottie nearly jumped out of her skin when a Spanish accent spoke within inches of her ear. Whipping her head in his direction, she found herself nose to nose with Javier. He squinted at the map laid out before them.
The Spaniard’s hand, resting on the sofa, tightened while his forearm flexed. As though he weighed nothing, Javier leapt over their heads and
the furniture, landing with his hips nestled between them.
“She speaks a valid point, my friend. My travels across the North American lands have taken me to all of these. The eastern area of Sector One is heavily populated. Too many bodies live on a small island where large crowds fill the streets, even at night. They’re a paranoid people, too. I believe endless noise and pollution in the condensed area tears at the minds of dieselheads in the same way it does for Weres everywhere else.
The Animal Gang will be on high alert in Sector Two, expecting Dottie to return to her southern roots, and her grandparents’ final home. Thanks to the dense copse of trees, sneaking about would be possible at night, but considering how it will take you multiple days to fly there, searching closer options first would be a better decision. As the AG tires of waiting for you at the further locations, they will thin out their spies by sending them elsewhere to search.”
Sighing, Tim looked past Javier to Dottie. “This may be like finding a needle in a haystack which happens to be guarded by large men with guns.”
Javier laughed, slapping Tim on the back. “Have faith, my feathered friend. Your horned god will be watching over you, ensuring your success.” He tapped on the space the eaten cookie used to occupy. “Besides, this is the largest city in Sector Six and is easier to move about undetected. As the land of movie stars and performers, its denizens wander about determined to be seen, not the other way around.”
Dottie let out a little squeal. Regardless of the serious task before them, she couldn’t contain her excitement at the prospect of being in Old Hollywood. “Could we walk the Boulevard unnoticed?” She prayed they could stride down the same streets her idols had. Most importantly, Dottie might get an eyeful of the Fonda Theater where Grandma Dorothea headlined many times.
Gripping her hand, Tim frowned. “It’s not worth risking your life.”
Swallowing her disappointment, she nodded in agreement. “I know.”
Javier slid his finger to the crumb in the center of the map. “However, if your grandfather knew the AG hunted his fortune, he could have gone against all the obvious locations.”
Dottie threw her hands in the air. “Applesauce. Then it could be anywhere. All of our research is pointless.”
Swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, tears leaked from her eyes. Jerking to her feet, she stormed into Javier’s kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her obvious attempt at controlling her emotions wouldn’t fool Tim.
Coming up behind her, his pat on her shoulder caused waterworks to escape.
Spinning her around, he pulled her into his embrace. “I know how frustrating this is, but we will figure it out.”
Between sniffles she let out, “It’s somethin’ else. Molly told me I jus’ had to ask ‘em . . . my Gramps and Grams. But I’ve tried. When you met with Marek today, I asked ‘em for help, out loud . . . but no one answered.”
Tim squeezed her tighter, resting his cheek on her head. “There’s only one way to make sure they hear you, Na-qui-si.”
Dottie peeled away from his hold, focusing her attention on him. “What?”
“We go to them.”
~ ~ ~
Tim had spent the past two days hoping he wouldn’t have to pull his bright light of joy back into the in-between. He never told her how the little corner she’d inhabited greatly differed from the rest of the realm.
The tree obviously affected the other world, considering the bright colors, but moreover, the tree’s magic shielded its inhabitants from everything else.
One could only arrive there through a physical connection, either from the tree or an individual within its boundaries. He could never thank the spirit beneath the bark enough . . . because it was something very special. It brought them together, and kept his songbird protected.
The harshness of the in-between catered to either sending a person back to their life, or beyond to death. No one would wait around there . . . under normal circumstances. Voices echoed, calling out to join them on either side.
As an eagle in his youth, the draw to the lower side didn’t threaten him. When the horned god, with his resplendent antlers came to him, he’d felt certain. He never believed he’d be seduced to the side opposite of life.
The solitude of necromancy, calling and sending the dead, set heavier on his soul than he anticipated. He didn’t know how much longer he could’ve held out . . . at least until he met the song to his soul. He didn’t sense the other side’s lure anymore. Tim could never be pulled to death as long as his woman lived.
With a deep sigh, he said, “It’s possible to go to the in-between and try to call your grandparents.” He emphasized ‘try’ because it wasn’t a guarantee.
“Do you think they’d come?” As intuitive as always, Dottie caught his concern.
Despite his protective urges, he told her the truth. “I do. Every clue we have indicates they loved you more than you know. They left you their inheritance. They want you to have everything . . . as I do. It suggests they’ll do anything, including crossing the barrier to give it to you.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “But please, love, know where we’re going isn’t the in-between we lived and loved in during your coma.”
“How bad is it?” she asked, bottom lip quivering.
He trailed his fingers down her cheek, cupping the side of her neck. “I’ll be with you.”
Tim pulled her into his chest, wrapping his other arm around. Holding her close he whispered, “I’ll never allow anyone to hurt or harm you. However, you must know, the safety you felt by our tree will not be there anymore. I’m unable to offer any block in this situation . . . We’re accessing the realm of the dead.”
She breathed deep. “I’ll be okay, ‘cause with you I’m stronger.”
Tim never had a doubt, but he still despised exposing her to the bleakness. The consuming sorrow the realm could present, made him worry.
She pulled back and framed his face with her hands, looking into his eyes. “We’re not ‘bout to follow an off the track idea, right?”
“It’s our best option. I know.” But I abhor putting you in any danger. “Are you ready now?”
Nodding, Dottie stood tall. “Yes. Let’s go find my grandparents.”
Javier cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do?”
Having forgotten the other man still sat on the couch, Tim chuckled, glancing toward him. “If you could keep anyone from disturbing us, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure, my friend. Is there any point or length of time at which I should be concerned about you being gone?”
“We won’t be there long enough to cause you worry.”
Grasping Dottie’s hand, Tim guided her to the bedroom in the back of Javier’s cabin. The small room, while cozy, lacked any decoration. He knew the Spaniard wasn’t mated and considered how different the spare room might be if he was. Would it be much the same, or would it be splashed with color the way Dottie brightened his life? He mused about what their home would be like, once all the dust settled, and where she would decide to live.
Sitting himself on the bed, he patted the space beside him. “Come lie with me.”
She grinned, sauntering over to crawl onto the mattress. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she moved in, eyes closed.
Tim wrapped her in his arms, humming in the low chant allowing their souls to pass into the in-between. She melded with him, following him easily. The storm gray surrounded them, the realm leached of all color.
“Di mi, this is different.” Glancing around, she sighed. “I miss our tree already.”
“I do too, love.” He loosened his hold on her, running one hand down to hold hers.
Opening his senses, he caught a wisp of the pull to Dottie. The edge of the veil where people who loved her pressed from the other side. He had to take c
are, splitting the rift, for those who already passed through could be dangerous. He didn’t sense any malevolence, but sometimes those with ties resisted separating in the end. As an eagle, their strength couldn’t match his in this place, unless they convinced the living to join them.
He’d traveled here for what seemed like forever, and he knew the sorrowful pleas to stay. He held faith that with him in her life, the souls of the dead couldn’t seduce Dottie away.
They hadn’t done a ceremonial mating yet, an official choice to bond their lives. But when they committed to it, one couldn’t survive without the other. Tim, certain he could never live in a world without her, struggled to tamp down his shifter’s drive to complete it until Dottie felt ready.
As a human, the concept might be foreign. Dieselheads often boasted their independence, their ability to move on, to survive and love again. No easy feat, even for them. He only hoped Dottie recognized, as soul mates who found one another, the loss of one would tear them in half. Without the ceremony, the other would live, but never be whole again. Even still, she had to consent to connect their mortality with an open heart. He couldn’t force her.
Glancing down to the woman who filled him with joy, he prayed to the horned god to keep her safe. “Focus your thoughts on your grandmother and grandfather, imagine a string of love connecting your glowing soul to theirs.” He waited a moment until the strand materialized, his mirrored eyes able to perceive it. “Now, pull gently on the line.”
At her nod, he sent a low chant, ancient words taught to him by the god, along the thin beam of light from her chest to the veil. They called to the spirits to speak, to cross into the in-between again. The times he had asked to commune before, he always sensed some hesitation. A wariness of what something distant might want. When Dottie’s grandparents readily accepted his invitation, he paused, scanning them. Tasting the essence of their souls, he picked up only love.
