Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  Finally, Ash muttered, “You know what it means … if I’m Mr. Black.”

  Joe said, “You’re not human. Maybe you’re like Kip?”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “When I was little, I had friends because Tami made them. But you were my friend.” Joe mumbled, “Thank you for being my friend.”

  Ash exhaled a funny, fluttering breath, just the way Mr. Black used to, then dredged up a small smile. “Guess I need a friend right now, and my usual cohort is having a long nap. Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?”

  He took Joe’s hand and pressed his knuckles into it. Slowly, he opened his fingers, and Joe could feel the smooth backs of long claws against his skin. He glanced down, but Ash’s fingers looked normal.

  “Close your eyes,” Ash directed.

  Joe did, and that was less disorienting. He explored the truth with his fingertips and accepted it. Eyes still firmly shut, he offered his palms. “Are you a squirrel like Kip?”

  “No.” Warm hands covered his. “I’m different. I’ll show you later. After your sister, okay?”

  He nodded. Belatedly, he opened his eyes again.

  Ash said, “I’m going to accept your invitation, Joe. Is there someplace private. Someplace the wolves won’t be?”

  “Umm … sure. I know a good spot.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Close Your Eyes

  Complaining would be silly. Tami had every reason to be amazed, delighted, and grateful. There were Amaranthine in Fletching, and they had welcomed her as a friend. She had their support, both as a principal and on a personal level. Inclusion in an enclave. Plans for the community.

  She’d been building toward a brighter future without realizing she’d be part of it. Possibilities multiplied by years. She could truly see this through. Make a difference. Change lives. Promote understanding, peace, and cooperation.

  Her smile only lasted until Cyril escorted her back to his car. Because the dizzy swirl of good news kept circling back to one horrible, terrible truth.

  “What about Joe?” she whispered. “I can’t leave Joe.”

  Cyril made no move to put the key in the ignition. Eyes fixed on the hands loosely folded in his lap, he asked, “You and he are close?”

  “Twins.”

  He measured his words before answering. “You’ll always be there for your brother. That doesn’t change.”

  Tami knew what people thought, that Joe needed her. But it was really the other way around. Always had been. Always would be. And that scared her. “I need Joe. That doesn’t change.”

  Cyril didn’t contradict her, didn’t offer platitudes. He simply asked, “Will he be at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shall I take you there?”

  “Please?”

  “My pleasure.”

  Tami hardly noticed the passing of familiar landmarks as Cyril played chauffeur. But just outside of Fletching, her wheeling thoughts hit a fresh snag. She’d outlive everyone she loved, and that included Ash.

  The only fair thing to do was break it off. And she couldn’t even explain why.

  “Here, my dear.” Cyril pressed a silken square into her hand.

  When had she begun crying?

  Joe was still mumbling reassurances when his head came up, his attention gone. His priorities shifted, and he made for the ladder. Halfway down, he blurted, “Gotta go. Tami needs me.”

  Ash’s face appeared above him, tense with concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “Something’s wrong.” Joe’s boots hit the barn floor.

  “Should I get out of here?”

  Hurrying for the door, he ordered, “Stay!”

  He didn’t have time to explain something that had always defied explanation. Maybe it was a twin thing. Maybe being reavers was a part of it. Joe didn’t really care about the whys and wherefores. All that mattered was getting to Tami.

  A sleek black car had parked in front of the gift shop, and a stranger was helping Tami out of it. She’d been crying. Joe’s wariness evaporated. Striding forward, he inserted himself between the strange man and his sister, and Tami collapsed into him with a sob.

  “I’m here,” Joe whispered.

  Her arms tightened around him.

  “You would be Joe?” inquired the man politely.

  Paying attention now, since this guy might somehow be responsible for Tami’s distress, Joe gave him a quick once-over. City boy. Probably rich and important. But radiating compassion. “Who are you?”

  “Perhaps your sister has mentioned me. Dr. Bellamy of Bellwether College. You may call me Cyril.” With a lazy wave toward the orchard, he asked, “Mind if I take a stroll?”

  “We’re closed.”

  “To the public, certainly.” The man’s eyes were bright with anticipation, his smile coy. “These are exceptional days, and I really would like to catch Doon-wen in the midst of a proper romp. Trust me when I say it would be a rare sight.”

  He knew about the wolves.

  “Dr. Bellamy is part of the enclave.” Tami pulled back, dabbing at her face. “I’m going to freshen up. Thank you for the ride, Cyril.”

  “Shall I arrange for the retrieval of your car?”

  Tami wavered, nodded, and hurried up the porch steps.

  Once she was inside, Joe tried to think what to say. Then an uneasy notion came to him, since he had been advised to wash. “Are you a wolf, sir?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I’m not half so rangy or rugged.” He cocked his head to one side. “You know, for a twin, you are very unlike your sister.”

  Joe guessed that meant Kip’s sigils were working. He shrugged and muttered, “We’re fraternal.”

  Cyril laughed lightly, then changed the subject again. “Is there any truth to the rumors of a corn maze on the property?”

  He gestured to the sign propped against the barn. “We have one every year. It opens this weekend.”

  “The squirrels will want to play havoc with your customers.” Easing into conspiratorial closeness, Cyril added, “They’re one of the trickster clans, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Illusory expertise. Games and mischief. Harmless fun, to be sure. Always coaxing for a laugh, but trustworthy and true of heart.”

  Joe was uncomfortably certain that this person knew about Kip.

  As if reading his thoughts, Cyril said, “He’s a good boy. Pick of the litter in more ways than one.”

  Joe dropped his gaze in time to watch a slender hand pluck a long, red hair from his sleeve. Busted. “Don’t tell. He … he doesn’t want my sister to find out … before … just before.”

  “You may trust my discretion.” Cyril beckoned with both hands. “Once all is revealed, you’ll understand my part in this delicious muddle. But we should begin at the beginning.”

  Joe took the cue and shyly offered his palms. “Sir, can I ask about your … umm … your clan.”

  “You may.” Radiating delight, he announced, “Lord Cyril Sunfletch, a pheasant by clan, a scholar by trade, a founder by choice, and an aficionado of fashion by destiny. Your sister and I met some months ago when she approached me with regards to the Twineshaft Initiative.”

  “Because you’re Rivven?”

  “Funny little coincidence, that.” Cyril’s hands slipped under Joe’s, supporting them from beneath. “I revealed myself earlier. Tami’s had a good day and a bad day, all bundled into one.”

  “Why?”

  He pursed his lips, then sighed. “Some blessings seem a burden. Comfort her as best you can.”

  Joe stole upstairs and tapped on his sister’s door.

  “Come in.” Her subdued reply was better than more crying.

  Tami’s room was a cheery accumulation of mismatched furniture that only made sense together if you knew her. Because she loved everything in there. Like the tall, carved cabinet from their grandparents’ house in Kyoto and the old rolltop desk that used to sit in the front hall. Back in the
day, it had been where the Reaverson family kept track of all the orchard’s accounts. Then there were the vintage apple crates that served as her bookcases. And the antique bedstead that was as old as the farm. That’s where Tami sat, in a spot that meant she’d left room for him.

  Clad in flannel pajama pants and a hoodie that was technically his, even though she wore it more than he did, Tami looked more comfortable … and in need of comforting.

  The featherbed sank with his added weight, pushing them together. Same as always. Joe wrapped his arm around her shoulders and waited.

  Tami took a deep breath and blurted, “I don’t want to spend forever without you.”

  He mulled that over for a few moments, then nodded his agreement.

  “Nobody told me. Probably an oversight.” Tami looked him in the eye and said, “Biddie changed my life.”

  Joe had to smile. “No kidding?”

  But Tami’s eyes were brimming again. “She changed how long I’ll live.”

  As she regaled him with this new twist in tragic tones, he listened with increasing amazement. Because this was huge and happy. Only she didn’t know it yet. And he didn’t want to be the one to spoil the surprise.

  Handing her a tissue, Joe risked saying, “Plenty of women wish they could be twenty-nine forever.”

  She gaped at him, then shoved his arm. “I don’t want to spend forever without you.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “How?” she asked, less skeptical than he expected. Tami always had believed him capable of anything—in a good way.

  “Not sure yet, but I think you’re focusing on the wrong twin. Biddie needs you.” He smiled at her surprise. “Isn’t that why you’re bound together? Because she’ll need your love and protection for her whole life?”

  Tami’s attention wasn’t on her losses anymore. He could see her mind working.

  Joe gave her a little squeeze. “You’ll have a sister to look out for, and you’ll have wolves and squirrels and pheasants and … oh. Hey, I almost forget. Ash came by earlier.”

  Her whole body tensed. “He did?”

  “And he’s still here.”

  “He is not.” Tami’s expression begged him to be teasing.

  “Sure, he is. I stashed him in our third best hiding place.”

  Tami’s expression wavered a while, then settled on bewilderment. “You put the man I love in the haymow?”

  “He went along with it.” Joe shrugged. “He wanted someplace private to talk. I promised to bring you there once you got home.”

  Predictably, Tami’s hands flew to her face, her hair. “I’m a mess!”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

  “He … he’s.” Tami’s fluster mounted. “I can’t be with him.”

  Joe frowned. “You love him. You told me so.”

  “But everything’s different!” she protested. “What kind of guy wants a wife who’s going to be twenty-nine forever?”

  His frown deepened. “Is that a trick question?”

  That earned him a flurry of small thumps. “Don’t be mean.”

  “He’s here, and he’s waiting.” Joe eased off the bed and made for the door. “Just do me a favor. When it’s time to talk, let him go first.”

  Tami was already pulling things out of her closet, but she hesitated. “That would be mean. What if he wants to propose or something? It might be kinder if I ….”

  “No,” Joe interrupted, more sternly than necessary. “Let Ash go first. Promise me?”

  His sister held his gaze and gave in. “I promise.”

  Tami slowly ascended the weathered rungs of two-by-fours nailed into the old barn’s exposed studs. This building wasn’t used for much more than storage anymore, but it had once been home to horses and cows. The lower part was divided into stalls, and Grandad still used the upper section for stockpiling the bales they used for seating, displays, and hayrides. She and Joe had often played up here, where pigeons cooed and swallows nested and mama cats hid their litters.

  Near the top, she softly called, “Ash?”

  “Here.”

  He sat among the bales, looking worried enough to worry her. Tami tried to smooth over any awkwardness. “This is a surprise. I didn’t realize you even knew where I lived.”

  “Kip mentioned it.” Ash stood and shuffled his feet. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. I can give you the tour sometime.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Tami usually didn’t leave conversations to flounder. It was so much easier to take charge. But Joe had made her promise to let Ash go first, so she chose a seat and held her peace.

  He came closer, crouched before her, searching her face. “I need to apologize.”

  She hadn’t expected that. “What for?”

  “I haven’t been entirely honest.” Ash grimaced. “I never lied, exactly. But there are vows I can’t break, people I need to protect, secrets that aren’t easy to talk about.”

  Tami’s heart sank. “Are you trying to tell me you’re already married?”

  “No! Not those kinds of vows.” Ash quietly added, “This is harder to explain without Kip.”

  Now she was really confused.

  “I can’t undo the illusion on my own.”

  A broad hint. As good as a confession. She knew then—at least in part—but she had to wonder how Joe had known. “You’re Amaranthine?”

  “Half.” He lowered himself to his knees and held out a hand. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

  Tami placed her hand in his. “Half?”

  “My father was Amaranthine.” Ash curled his hand into a loose fist and pressed into her palm, much as Cyril had done earlier.

  “You have claws.”

  “Yeah. I have to be careful.” He eased a little closer. “It’s easiest if I keep my distance.”

  Taking his hand in both of hers, she tested each digit. Even though her eyes were telling her that his hands were as human as could be, her fingers traced the tapered points of the truth. “An illusion?”

  “More than one, actually. I wouldn’t pass for human otherwise.”

  Tami reached for his face, and he held still while she pushed his hair behind his ear. “No points?”

  Some of the tension left his posture, and he cracked a smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “You’re a crosser.”

  “That’s the truth.” Ash edged closer and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

  As soon as she did, something rustled around her, brushing against her shoulders, her hair. An enveloping warmth carried a familiar scent, bringing to mind nesting boxes and roosting hens. “You have feathers?”

  “I do.” Ash caught her wrist and guided her hand upward.

  What she found amazed her. “You have wings.”

  She trailed her hand across fanning feathers, then followed the upper edge to the place where they joined Ash’s back. Her fingers found a nest of down there. And bare skin, where Ash’s shirt had been altered to accommodate his wings. He shivered and flexed.

  Her explorations left her pressed close, and he slid his arms around her waist. “You’re not … disturbed?”

  Far from it. She kissed his cheek and murmured, “What color are your feathers?”

  “Black.” Ash’s nose trailed along her jaw. “Crow clan.”

  “Oh. Like your name.”

  He chuckled. “Snooping in files?”

  “A little. I was curious.” Tami paused. “Wait … you mentioned Kip. Him, too?”

  “We grew up together. He’s good with illusions.” Ash touched her hair. “I think he outed himself to Joe.”

  Recalling the red hair and passing resemblance to one of the founders she’d met earlier, she asked, “Is he related to Linden Woodacre, by any chance?”

  Ash kissed her, and all thoughts of squirrels fled.

  She was breathless when he drew back and cleared his throat. “I heard from … from someone connected to the enclave that you’re tree-k
in. Is that true?”

  “Yes.” Explanations tumbled out, mostly coherent, though Ash’s constant nuzzling and petting were a distraction.

  “I was fully prepared to pledge everything, even knowing it would only be for a short time.” Ash’s voice was low with emotion. “I’m glad it will be longer.”

  Tami was embarrassed it had taken this long for her to realize. “Your lifespan.”

  “Our lifespans.” He kissed her softly. “My years are yours if you’ll have them.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Freezing Rain

  Kip woke to the sound of rain rattling against glass. Stretching and scratching, he sat up and studied his surroundings. Long sleeps always left him sluggish. Where …? Not home, but safe. He could feel the reassuring strength of his own wards. Then he spotted Jiro, curled up under a quilt on the floor. And the stockpiled snacks crammed against the wall.

  What a trooper.

  A quick scamper to the bathroom. A few extra sigils for the door and floor. Then Kip scooped up Jiro and tucked him into his own bed, crawling right in after him. The man squinted groggily, but he couldn’t have been seeing much in the dark. Rubbing at cold arms, Kip muttered, “I’m the worst houseguest ever. Total bed hog. And you’re freezing.”

  “Kip?”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Three days.” Jiro turned, and his forehead bumped Kip’s chin. “Umm … tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “Could be worse. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Temperatures dropping. Threat of freezing rain. Been picking like crazy since yesterday morning,” he reported in a sleepy voice. “Late apples are all in. Kinda worried about the maze, though.”

  Kip couldn’t help smiling. “You’re a farmer for sure. Crops and weather. Work with me here! What did I miss?”

  “Ash was here.”

  He stopped chaffing. “Was he?”

  Jiro’s hand found Kip’s chest, but he didn’t push him away. “He came looking for you.”

  “When was this?”

  “Friday. After work.” He was more awake now. And struggling to know where to put his other hand. “He knew you were here. I guess I smelled like squirrel.”