Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  Claws.

  Tami cataloged his Amaranthine features, relieved to find that fangs did nothing to diminish the friendliness of his smile. Slit pupils and pointed ears were minor details. Kip was still Kip. But Joe seemed displeased.

  He asked, “Aren’t you going to show her?”

  Kip tucked his chin to his chest. “Tonight’s about Ash. He’s the one she wants to see.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re just as important as he is.”

  Tami was a little surprised at her brother. Joe wasn’t one to push, yet he was sitting in the straw, attacking Kip’s bootlaces.

  Ash spoke up. “Like Joe said, it’s just us.”

  “Aww, geez. Give me half a sec,” grumbled Kip. “It’s not exactly easy to reach the catch.”

  “Where?” asked Joe.

  To Tami’s increasing amazement, Kip shimmied partway out of his pants, revealing plaid boxers. He twisted his body around, reaching, and Joe seemed to be pushing at something. Averting her eyes, she met Ash’s amused gaze.

  He sat on the edge of their straw nest, Biddie perched on his knee. “Don’t be embarrassed. He can’t actually be immodest, even without clothes on.”

  Joe asked, “Really?”

  “Guys,” Kip sighed. “That is so totally not the big reveal I had in mind. Tami’s into feathers, not fur.”

  She asked, “You have fur?”

  “Fraid so,” muttered Kip. “I warded myself for our dinner. Kind of a hassle. Easier to hide everything under my work clothes.”

  Tami couldn’t picture it. And then she didn’t have to, because Joe found the elusive catch. Suddenly, her brother was draped in a luxuriant fur stole. His gaze sought hers, full of messages that didn’t need words. Didn’t I tell you? Can you believe it? Isn’t he amazing?

  And he had. And she did. And he was.

  FORTY

  Hers and His and Theirs

  For a long while now, Ash only had eyes for Tamiko. But something in Kip’s manner snagged his attention. He was mostly himself, mostly happy, but Ash could sense a crosscurrent flirting just past his wingtips, a turbulence that wasn’t like Kip at all.

  Ash would have gone to him, except Joe was right there, a bulwark of quiet and calm. The drape of Kip’s tail suggested an intimacy that was only confusing because of its suddenness. Something good must have happened for Joe to take to Kip so quickly. They would have become friends eventually. That’s just the way it was. “Everybody loves Kip,” he murmured.

  “Even you?” asked Biddie, her head tilted back to search his face.

  Ash brushed a knuckle over her cheek, awed by the subtle patterning there, like fine wood sanded to silk. “He’s my best friend.”

  Biddie leaned into his touch and said, “My Tami loves you.”

  “You think?” He couldn’t help smiling.

  She sweetly declared, “Ash loves my Tami.”

  “You can tell?” Not that he was very good at hiding things. Not on his own.

  “Some.” Her brow puckered. “Too many fences. Too many walls.”

  Ash supposed she was picking up on the overlapping wards and illusions that made it possible for him to stay ordinary. “Kip can trick your eyes, but the truth is right here. Can you see my claws?”

  “No. None.” But her fingers were already searching. She asked, “What else?”

  This was supposed to be his big moment, revealing himself to Tamiko. But maybe a little test run would help his nerves. “I don’t have pretty ears like yours. Mine are human.”

  She patted and pulled, verifying his claim.

  “No fangs,” he admitted. “Not all avians have them, but my sort usually does. So it’s another way I’m like my mother.”

  Biddie poked a finger into his mouth, and he gently trapped it with blunt teeth. Not shy, this kid. Given what little lore he knew of trees, she was going to be all kinds of trouble when she grew up.

  “Eyes?” she asked.

  “Classic crow. Or so I’m told.”

  His attention drifted back to Kip, who’d offered his palms in the Amaranthine way. Getting the honest meeting Ash was still waiting for. Tami went on tiptoe as she searched Kip’s eyes, which were tearing up. What a softie. This kind of thing would mean the world to Kip, and Ash was every kind of grateful that there was still something they could share.

  Ash murmured, “I guess it makes some kind of sense, nests and trees go together.”

  “Hers and his and ours,” said Biddie, in what he assumed was agreement.

  Greetings dropped the formalities when Kip opened his arms, and Tami slid in for a hug. Ash might have been a tiny bit jealous, but Kip met his gaze over the top of her head and mouthed two words. You next.

  The accompanying smirk almost made it a threat.

  What did the everlasting prank-monster have up his sleeve?

  Kip kissed the top of Tami’s head, turned her around, and gave a little flourish of one hand. In a voice low with emotion, Kip asked, “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  Her eyes widened and tracked upward.

  Ash knew he’d been exposed and wished he’d had a little more warning. He’d figured Kip would go for a bigger build-up, prolong the moment, and shout, “Ta da!” But he was just standing there, holding Tami by the shoulders, hiding behind her like he didn’t want anyone to figure out he was losing it.

  “You okay?” Ash asked in an undertone.

  Kip waved a hand. But Ash wasn’t sure if he was answering, because Kip’s crystals swung into orbit. This part of the plan was a little embarrassing, but necessary. Black wings weren’t easy to see in the dark. And Ash did want to be seen. When an involuntary quiver twanged through tense muscles, he remembered to move. Flexing, stretching, and finally extending, he displayed like the courting male he was.

  She gasped and gawked, but definitely in a good way.

  Biddie slid from his lap and hurried to Tami, took her hand, and pulled her nearer. Also good.

  Ash hurried to his feet, wings stirring up dust and straw, hands reaching until he remembered he wasn’t going to rush her. But she plowed right into him, hiding her face against his shirt like she didn’t want anyone to realize she was losing it.

  He shot Kip a bewildered look, but his best friend was rubbing furiously at his cheeks with a red handkerchief that Joe must have produced.

  Joe offered a little half-smile. “You look like an angel.”

  “You think?” Ash wasn’t used to compliments. Most Amaranthine looked on him with pity. He was cobbled together, stranded between forms.

  “Those wings are damned sexy,” Kip accused, not quite making eye contact. “She never stood a chance.”

  Arms wound around Ash’s waist, which also added up to good. So he nuzzled her hair and whispered, “You’re okay with the wings, then?”

  A bubble of laughter. A hint of embarrassment. A long look that was really more of an ogle.

  “Tamiko,” he coaxed.

  She asked, “Are you for real?”

  Ash’s ego was preening. “To quote Kip, ‘Fraid so.’”

  “He’s right, you know. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

  He could have argued the point. There were plenty of avians between here and the city, all of whom had glorious plumage—pheasants, doves, peacocks. Even the pigeon clans had more to strut about. But if Tamiko thought him beautiful, he wouldn’t compare or complain. “I love you.”

  She shook her head, but not to refuse or rebuff him. Amaranthine instincts and senses assured him that his attentions were welcome and any further advances would be favorably met.

  A throat cleared.

  He remembered their audience.

  Joe said, “We’ll just walk Biddie back to the oak glen.”

  Ash ducked his head guiltily and would have signaled to Kip, begging for more time. But only Joe was there, his feet already on the ladder.

  “Kip will be with me.” Joe stepped down. “He needs to see the corn maze. We’ll go to my room after. Hang ou
t.”

  That odd crosscurrent nagged at Ash, and he hesitated. “Is Kip okay?”

  Joe’s expression softened. “Yep. He’ll be with me.”

  Kip might hide certain details behind impressions and illusions, but he’d always tried to be himself. Humans were always saying that looks weren’t everything. That the hidden person of the heart was what matters most. That a beautiful soul will always shine through.

  Nice ideas. True stuff.

  Over and again, he’d been accepted for himself, but always by people who never saw past a careful barrier of misinformation. So Kip couldn’t shake the nagging conviction that stripped of his illusions, he’d lose everyone’s trust and respect and camaraderie.

  Real possibilities. Worst nightmare.

  Which might be why Kip had also harbored a perverse longing for exposure.

  There was a reason Jiminy had called him in when it was time to ward the Reaverson place. He was the best Woodacre for the job. His sigilcraft was stellar. His illusions might have gained him acclaim … except that nobody ever realized they’d been duped.

  Until Jiro.

  Kip still couldn’t decide if it was a blow to his ego or an answer to some kind of unspoken prayer. Either way, Jiro was very good at keeping him humble. The guy was there at the right times, in the right ways. Propping him up. Wiping his nose. Holding his hand.

  “Where are we going?” Kip asked.

  Tami’s acceptance had half-wrecked his composure. She was so sweet about the whole thing, no trace of hurt or hesitation. But Ash’s happiness had become Kip’s total wreckage. And Jiro’s quick thinking, his salvation.

  Not many people would be so glad to have been shoved from the second story.

  Kip’s fingers twined more tightly with Jiro’s. “Why are we in a cornfield?”

  “It’s a puzzle.” He glanced over his shoulder, for the path—such as it was—forced them to walk single file. “Didn’t you say squirrels like games?”

  “Gotcha. This is your corn maze.” Kip forced his attention outward, senses straining. There weren’t any wolves nearby. Still, he triggered a couple of readymade sigils to give them some cover. “How far are we from the entrance?”

  “I didn’t bring you in the usual way.” Jiro walked on, towing Kip like a sluggish barge. “It’s harder if you have to start from the middle.”

  “Where’s Biddie?”

  “We left her at her tree.”

  Kip winced. “How long have I been out of it?”

  “A while.” Jiro stopped and studied him in the scant moonshine. “The lights and everything. Tami loved it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You did good,” he said, sounding proud.

  Kip swallowed hard. “Did my best.”

  “I know.”

  The fact that he really did … sorta helped.

  A little farther, and the path opened into a wide circle of hard-packed earth. Jiro marched straight to the center and made Kip spin in place, like for a game of Blind Man’s Bluff. Ten different openings led into the area where they stood. Each as likely as the next.

  “How many acres does this maze cover?” Kip asked.

  “Twelve—give or take.”

  “How long does it take most people to find their way through?”

  “First-timers in daylight, without the aid of a compass, usually take ninety minutes.”

  Kip frowned. “That’s specific.”

  He waved a hand vaguely, not giving away any particular direction. “We have a few towers set up in case anyone runs into trouble. First aid, water, a guide out.”

  “Lifeguards in a sea of corn.”

  “That’s the idea.” Jiro slid his hands into his pockets. “Whoever’s on duty has a line of stopwatches. We time the groups for Grandad. He wants to know if the maze is too easy or too hard. It helps us plan the next year’s design.”

  “You do it all from scratch?”

  Jiro nodded. “It’s different after dark. Disorienting. It can take people twice as long.”

  “After hours?”

  “It’s how we close out the year. The last weekend in October, we do a Halloween special. People come in costume, and even if they’ve solved the maze before, it’s different. We add tricks and traps and obstacles. And people in costume, like a haunted house. We keep it tame for the kiddies for the first few of hours, but after eight, it can get pretty scary out here.”

  Kip had never heard Jiro say so much in one go. “You enjoy it?”

  “It’s pretty fun.”

  “Still looking for volunteers?”

  “Sure.” Jiro casually asked, “Think you’ll need ninety minutes?”

  “What’s my goal?”

  “We have flagpoles at the entrance that teams carry through. It’s how they signal for help.” He suggested, “Get out, grab one, and get back.”

  Kip grinned. “Start counting.”

  Jiro blinked once, then quietly obeyed. “One … two … three ….”

  With a flick of his tail, Kip scarpered.

  He jogged along, creating a small racket as he brushed past dry stalks. Some lanes widened. He found other open spaces, shapes within the larger design. Suspicions grew into certainty that the maze created some kind of picture.

  “… eighty-six … eighty-seven … eighty-eight … “

  Kip poured on as much speed as he dared, not wanting to damage the maze as he hit dead ends and doubled back. He flashed back through Jiro’s circle more than once, and each time, the steady rhythm of his voice would warm.

  “… three hundred thirty-two … three hundred thirty-three … three hundred thirty-four …”

  Jiro was smiling. And that meant they were each—in their own way—enjoying this.

  When Kip darted back into the circle, toting the proof of his success, he may have gotten a little carried away.

  Joe yelped when Kip tackled him and immediately lost count. Which was a shame, since the redhead had undoubtedly set a new record. But Joe was caught in a dizzy tumble that never quite turfed them. It went on and on, gradually slowing until all he could hear was Kip’s breathless laughter and the soft rattle of the cornfield coming from somewhere below.

  That made no sense. If they were on the ground, the stalks should be around and above them.

  Opening his eyes, he tried to untangle himself from Kip, who was under him, keeping him out of the dirt and grinning up at the stars.

  “It’s a cornucopia, isn’t it?” Kip angled his head enough to catch Joe’s eye. “The maze. If I look down, that’s what it’ll be.”

  Look down? Joe tried to ease off Kip, but his foot swung into air.

  Arms tightened, and a leg casually swept under his, lifting it back in line. Kip was supporting the full length of his body, and Joe was almost afraid to understand why. But he needed to confirm his suspicion. He looked down.

  They were suspended in midair, somehow caught between the moon and the maze.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” pressed Kip. “The basket-weave section is brutal. Slowed me way down.”

  Joe managed a nod.

  “Hey,” he said gently. “You bad with heights?”

  “No. Just … umm … wasn’t ready for ….” Joe faltered, and his hands locked around Kip’s ribcage. “Did you jump?”

  “More of a glide.” Kip propped a hand behind his head. “Defying gravity is one of the less-publicized Amaranthine superpowers. Easy does it. I’ve got you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “My nose says otherwise.”

  Joe focused on Kip’s face, which was better than looking down.

  “Senses vary by clan, but ours are keener than yours. My sense of smell might not be at wolf levels, but I know when someone’s not having fun anymore.” Kip’s smile was apologetic. “Almost there.”

  And they were. The whole time Kip had been explaining, he’d been slowly sinking from the sky. Joe took a few deep breaths, cautiously adjusted his grip, and mumbled, “A little to the left.�
��

  They came to rest on bare dirt, inside the rib of a pumpkin.

  Joe just lay there, not ready to let go, not wanting to spoil things.

  “Sorry, Jiro,” said Kip. “Ash loves it when I carry him up and away. He can’t fly, but he can’t help wanting to feel the wind in his wings. It was thoughtless of me to haul you so far out of your comfort zone.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Kip didn’t argue the point. Just patted Joe’s back. Like this was natural. Like it was nothing.

  Joe mumbled, “I must be heavy.”

  “Eh. I’m stronger than I look.”

  A confusing answer, since Kip was pretty built. Joe asked, “How strong are you?”

  With a rueful smile, he said, “Scary strong.”

  Joe had heard of people who didn’t know their own strength. Was this the opposite? “You scare yourself?”

  “No. But I’m scared of scaring people.” Kip’s hand left off patting, just rested where it was. “And I don’t want to betray your trust.”

  “I trust you.”

  Kip’s brow furrowed. Like he didn’t believe it.

  Joe immediately felt bad. Was it because he’d smelled afraid? Did that translate to a lack of trust? “Can we try again?”

  “The maze? I could probably run it backward and blindfolded, now that I’ve figured it out.”

  “Didn’t you want a look?” Joe pointed up. “I want another chance.”

  His nostrils were quivering.

  Joe didn’t like being second-guessed. He pinched Kip’s nose shut and insisted, “You didn’t scare me, you surprised me. I want a do-over.”

  “Okay, sure.” Kip gently freed his nose. “I’d like a do-over myself. Let’s rearrange.”

  Joe eased off, and Kip rolled into a low crouch, one knee touching the ground.

  “Up you get,” he invited.

  Was he kidding? “I’m too big for piggyback rides.”

  “You’re only too big if nobody can lift you. And I just happen to be scary strong.” Kip’s eyes were bright. “I give piggyback rides to kids on the playground all day long. Never lost one yet.”