by Forthright
No windows to speak of, since this was an interior room—hushed and secure. Clear, white light filled the space, emanating from a series of crystals suspended at regular intervals. It was bright enough to read by and didn’t suggest a sleeping chamber. Which brought Melissa back to her purpose.
Where was Jiminy?
Putting her training to good use, she tracked him to his lair. His den included an inner room, which wasn’t obvious since it could only be accessed by a crawl-through hidden behind his desk. Melissa pushed past draping furs, softly calling, “Jiminy?”
He was here. She could hear his slow breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the faint light given off by constellations of tiny crystals embedded in the ceiling, she matched his breathing to calm her jitters. This was a private place. She felt like an intruder.
Fur surrounded her, a deep plush that gave off the same wild scent as a wolf. There were no furnishings, only cushions and folded furs. Clearly, the inner room was intended for sleep, and in true wolf fashion, it was large enough to accommodate a group. Jiminy’s lone lump in the far corner looked small.
Strange that Doon-wen and Rook lived in a very human apartment, but Jiminy lived in a wolf’s den. Each embracing the ways of another.
What should she do? Interrupting felt wrong. She should go.
But Melissa twisted her fingers into the fur and waited just a little longer. Her head ached, and her eyelids grew heavy. This would be a good place to dream of wolves. Just a little longer.
Her guard slipped, her body slumped, and she buried her face in fur. Hardly any time passed when she felt a blanket settle around her shoulders, and she jerked upright, grappling her attacker to the floor and pinning him.
“Melissa?” Jiminy spread his hands in surrender. “Please, don’t kill me in your sleep.”
She rolled off him, taking the blanket with her. It was perfect for hiding under. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Boundaries.”
He chuckled. “Who sent you?”
“A matchmaker and a mischief-maker,” she grumbled. “Would you just let me sleep? I haven’t had a full night in three days.”
“Yes. But not alone. Or alone together. Otherwise, the pack will think we’re trysting. Doon-wen could insist I take responsibility which always leads to a general cry for proof of ardor.” His hand gently shook her shoulder. “Who should I invite?”
“Does it matter?”
“It can, but it doesn’t have to.” Jiminy patiently explained, “Any wolf would consider it an honor to be asked.”
“Doon-wen?”
“I can certainly ask, but he’s been extra growly lately. Apparently, the paperwork for registering an enclave is exceptionally tedious. Anyone else?”
She didn’t really know that many Nightspangles. “What about the wolves in the photos in your office?”
“Them? Those three pretty much raised me, but they’re away for a while.”
Melissa was about to steal his blanket and go bed down with True when another wolf came suddenly to mind. She asked, “Are the Elderboughs still in town?”
All she’d wanted was to borrow a quiet corner in order to catch up on sleep, forgetting—for obvious reasons—that Jiminy considered himself a wolf. Of course he’d make a production out of a nap. Within the packs, sleep was almost as sacred as the phases of the moon. Asking for temporary quarters had probably invoked some kind of wolvish standard of courtesy, generosity, and hospitality.
Melissa would have been furious with herself if she hadn’t been too tired to make an effort. And if she hadn’t been looking forward to something she’d only ever experienced once before. With her father and his Kith companion. Sleeping pack-style.
She’d dozed off again by the time Jiminy returned with reinforcements.
Torloo-dex Elderbough knelt at her side, tugging at her hand. “Did you really ask for me? Nobody’s ever asked for me before!”
“I will always ask for you, then.” She offered her hand. “You are my favorite Elderbough.”
His hands were smaller than hers, but not by much. And Melissa could feel his strength, his potential, and his pleasure in being included.
Jiminy crawled into the room, Risk and Dare close behind.
“Did you really almost kill Jiminy when he found you?” asked Torloo.
“Incapacitated,” she clarified. “I left my blade in its sheath.”
“Progress,” came Doon-wen’s deep voice. Being on hands and knees did little to diminish the pack leader’s air of importance. He prowled to the center of the room, nose high, tail switching.
Torloo looked between her and Jiminy and bluntly asked, “Are you courting?”
“No.” She sat up and waved at Jiminy as if shooing a fly. “I’m not here for regard or for revenge. I only wanted to rest.”
Scooting closer, Torloo whispered, “It would be a good match.”
Him, too? Melissa asked, “Why do you think so?”
“Because,” the boy answered solemnly. “He is a wolf.”
“So are you,” she pointed out.
Torloo’s gaze slid to the side. “I am many years from reaching my attainment.”
Melissa hadn’t meant to embarrass him, so she kept her tone light. “Time will tell. Maybe my granddaughter or great-granddaughter will love you.”
His eyes widened, and he showed a dimple. Casting aside all formality, he flung his arms around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I will be waiting.”
“Melissa.” Doon-wen sat with legs crossed, fingers drumming his thigh. “My brother is outside. He is prepared to grovel.”
She glanced Jiminy’s way in time to see him press a palm toward the ceiling. The crystals brightened at his command. Catching her look, he said, “I may have had a few words with him. Entrapment was never his intention. Apparently, it never occurred to Rook that you’d willingly enter my den, let alone willingly remain.”
His words bit. Was he angry with Rook?
Doon-wen growled softly, and Jiminy averted his face.
What could she say? Melissa knew Doon-wen and Torloo could read her mood, but Jiminy needed words. She kept it short. “Rook would never willingly hurt the people he loves. He only underestimated my weariness … and this den’s appeal.”
Jiminy covered his eyes with his hand and called, “Get in here, Rook. We can’t do this without you.”
He crawled through, tail tucked, and he kept right on crawling until he reached Melissa. Pulling Jiminy down beside her, Rook mournfully kissed both their foreheads.
“She likes my den,” said Jiminy.
Rook’s shoulders relaxed. “I know no finer compliment. A den and its founder are likened to a heart and its beat.”
Melissa threaded her fingers into the fur that covered the floor and yawned.
Doon-wen immediately took charge, gesturing to the others and saying, “Thank you for inviting us to guard your rest.”
Her battler instincts reared up. “Stand guard? Against what?”
Rook and Torloo pulled furs into a central pile, leaving Doon-wen to answer. “Against solitude and its coldness. Against fear and its doubts. Against time and its passing.”
“You can stop time?”
“I can diminish its importance,” Doon-wen asserted. “All time spent here is ours. It belongs to no other, just as we belong to each other. Now … enough words.”
With that, he transformed into a large, black wolf. Melissa wondered how much power he kept in check in order to fit the available space.
“Sleep sweet,” urged Rook, who also took truest form.
The brothers arranged themselves along either side of the room, their muzzles—and formidable jaws—nearest the door. Intruders beware.
Torloo simply kissed his fingertips, held them out to her, and vanished into his own swirl of light, becoming a lean, leggy wolf, no bigger than his two Kith companions. He, Risk, and Dare curled up between Doon-wen’s and Rook’s forepaws, leaving a narrow patch for her and Jiminy.
M
elissa pulled at the blankets and wriggled down among them.
A few moments later, Jiminy stretched out next to her. He said nothing. Only watched her with a seriousness that she was too tired to deal with.
“Can you turn down the stars?” she asked.
He flashed a quick smile, tapped his nose, and pointed to the ceiling. The crystals slowly dimmed. But Melissa could tell he was showing off, because every so often, individual stars would twinkle. It was pretty.
Jiminy asked, “Will you let me hold your hand?”
For an answer, she poked one out of the blanket, letting it flop limply between them.
He fitted his under hers. With both palms turned upward, it was as if he was offering his support.
And that was all. No banter. No flirting. Just an increasingly sleepy watchfulness. Maybe as host, he was supposed to let her go to sleep first?
When she rolled onto her side—as she usually did when she was about to drift off—she turned her hand, and palms met. Fingers found their fit. And Melissa gave in to the inevitable.
A scuffle and sudden emptiness woke Melissa, and she was up and armed before she was truly awake.
“Peace.” Torloo’s hands closed around her wrist, holding back her weapon with a force that belied his slender frame. “There is no battle here.”
“Where is it?” she mumbled.
The young Elderbough giggled.
A protesting groan sounded from the fur-covered floor. Jiminy was trying to bury his head under a cushion.
Melissa sheathed her blade with a sigh. “How long was I asleep?”
“Six hours. Perhaps seven.” Torloo’s tail wagged. “Are you rested?”
“Yes, thank you.” Both Doon-wen and Rook were missing. She had the impression that it was their sudden absence that had disturbed her nap. “Did they have to go?”
“Yes. You should go, as well.” Torloo crawled to Jiminy and shook his shoulder. “Your pack sings.”
Jiminy’s head popped up. A moment later, he scrambled out of the den, muttering about the wards and fair warnings.
“Come.” Torloo beckoned for Melissa to follow him out. “True wants you. So does Doon-wen. Come, and attend the birth of their cubs.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Avian Style
Tami hadn’t realized the day was so far gone until Mrs. Dabrowski leaned through her office door and shook her car keys. “There are limits, my dear. Whatever it is you’re still working on, leave it for tomorrow.”
“Arrangements for the town meeting.” She pointed from one pile to the next. “Proposed prize lists for Bingo Night. Our next Bowshot column. And press releases.”
Flootie wrinkled her nose. “Let me and Harrison help with the above-and-beyond stuff. You can’t do it all.”
“Maybe I should have requested an Amaranthine assistant for us.” Tami leaned back in her chair. “I’ve heard certain clans specialize in paperwork.”
“Which clans would those be?”
“Moth, I think.”
Her secretary asked, “Is it too late to apply for a moth?”
“Another application.” Tami wearily scanned the mess on her desk. “I’m sure I have the right form somewhere.”
“Leave it,” insisted Flootie. “Moths can be first on your agenda tomorrow. And we’ll pitch in until you get extra help. Now, go home!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tami dredged up a smile and added, “Thanks.”
After Flootie went, Tami sat for a while, resting her eyes and running through the remaining phases of Hisoka Twineshaft’s plans for their schools. If she was struggling, the others must be, as well. She’d have to ask Cyril about adding someone to their team, someone detail-oriented and diplomatic.
“Hey.”
“Ash.” She quickly corrected her posture and tried to hide her weariness. “Busy day?”
“Better, now that Kip’s back. The kids missed him.”
Although there’d been no time to explore anything that had been said the night before, Tami hadn’t forgotten the detail Ash let slip. That he couldn’t undo his illusion without his friend’s help. “Is he still here?”
“He needed to go home for something.” Ash eased further into the room. “It’s just us.”
“Kip left without you? Don’t you live together?”
“I meant he went to … to where his family lives.”
“The enclave?”
Ash simply nodded.
She stood and came out from behind her desk. “Do you need a ride?”
“Thanks, but … I don’t fit in most cars.” He looked away and looked back, clearly flustered. “I wanted to ask if we can meet sometimes.”
“Away from work?” she ventured. “Like a date?”
“Yes. No. It’s an Amaranthine thing, I think. Or an avian instinct.” Ash was having difficulty meeting her gaze. “I’m not entirely sure. Sometimes I feel compelled to do things that don’t make sense, even to me. It’s … embarrassing.”
“If it’s important to you, I don’t see a problem.”
His gaze lifted to hers. “Really?”
Tami smiled. “Have you seen some of the things Kimiko Miyabe has to do in order to court Eloquence Starmark? They don’t make any sense until the commentators explain the history behind each gesture or tradition. Of course, he’s canine and you’re avian, so there are bound to be differences. But exploring them will help us get to know each other.”
Ash whispered something.
She missed it, so she stepped closer. “Pardon?”
He reached for her, tugged her into his arms, and repeated, “I love you.”
“Even though it may lead to embarrassment?”
“You really don’t mind?”
Tami lifted her face. “I’m looking forward to being courted by the one I love. Where did you want to meet?”
“The loft in your barn would work.”
Certainly convenient, at least for her. “How often would you be dropping by?”
“Every evening.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “That often?”
“If you’ll permit it.” Ash sighed. “My father swears it’s necessary, and I don’t think he was teasing. This time.”
“Your father, as in your Amaranthine parent?”
“Not my biological father. My adoptive parent is also avian, but from a different clan. He’s been helping me sort through my urges.” Ash’s fingers sifted through her hair. “Courting and building and nurturing a mating bond. He’s very excited, since he likes you so much.”
“I know your father?”
“Cyril Sunfletch.”
Tami laughed. “Dr. Bellamy is going to be my father-in-law?”
“You sound glad.” Ash was smiling more naturally now. “And it’s nice to hear you refer to my proposed bond as if it’s a foregone conclusion.”
“Should I have kept you in suspense?”
“No.” Ash’s lips brushed hers. “Otherwise, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to try.”
“You’re welcome to try. Every evening. In the loft. Or in the kitchen. Or the sitting room.” Tami asked, “We don’t have to hide, do we? My family will want to meet you.”
Ash hesitated. “I would be pleased to present myself to your family as your suitor. But I don’t want an audience for the courting gifts. Their presentation is too personal … and potentially embarrassing. Cyril described his mating dances in great detail.”
“Privacy, then.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “Avian clans use gifts for courting?”
“Many do. There are countless variations, but I chose something simple. We can begin tonight, if you’ll meet me in the loft.” He glanced around the brightly lit office. “I like the atmosphere there better. It’s more like a nest.”
“When?”
“Eight o’clock?”
Tami accepted that with a smile. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”
“I’ll be there, without fail.” The hint of a smi
rk appeared on his lips. “Your farm isn’t so far, as the crow flies.”
Kip had no trouble slipping into the enclave unnoticed. He’d been sneaking around the place since he was old enough to crack nuts, and he’d had more practice than most with illusions. His plan was admittedly reckless, and it depended heavily on good luck, but it wasn’t exactly risky.
This was home. Or, it used to be. His family expected a certain level of tricky business. They came by their reputation as mischief-makers honestly … and dishonestly. But no red squirrel liked to be caught red-handed. Yeah, he could make up excuses. Awkwardness and apologies—no problem. He’d play the fool and laugh off his mistake if he made one. But Kip really hoped this would work.
Back halls and crawlspaces. Air ducts and acrobatics. With a bit of a scamper and nary a hiccup, he made his way to the entrance to the enclave’s inner sanctum—Jiminy’s den. Which was heavily warded.
He stood for a while, simply deciphering Jiminy’s sigilcraft. Their little phenom was all about personal touches. To his amusement, Kip found wards that promised a world of hurt to a couple of young Woodacre pranksters, should they be foolish enough to try an infiltration. Tuned crystals suggested that other individuals were welcome.
Kip doubted he was shortlisted for entry. He and Jiminy weren’t that close.
And then one of the sigils began to change shape. Letters formed a simple question—WHY?
No way.
Fascinated, he stepped up to the door. Its anchoring crystals seemed to hum a question. It was almost as if Jiminy had coaxed the stones into divining the intentions of an unexpected guest. State your business. Give me your reasons.
Kip had known going in how little chance he had of cracking Jiminy’s wards. So instead of wheedling his way past them, Kip tried honesty. He held the urgency of his mission in the forefront of his mind and reached for the door handle.
A clear note seemed to signal approval, and the sigils scattered, leaving the door bare.
The handle turned. He was in.
For a breathless moment, he listened.
