by Tanya Huff
“I think it’s a plane.”
“Shit!”
“It’s okay.” He sounded amused so hopefully she hadn’t done anything irreparable. “It’s landing at the airport.”
“You can tell that from here?”
“Yeah, but I’ll go check on it if you like.”
Charlie reached for him as he stood, but only managed to grab the end of his tail. “We will never speak of this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jack folded his neck nearly in half, lifted a wing, and grinned down at her over his gleaming curve of shoulder. “I’m never going to let you forget it.”
CHARLIE SLIPPED OUT FROM UNDER ALLIE’S ARM, froze as Graham shifted on her other side, and slid out of bed as he settled. Groping the floor beside the bed, she found a T-shirt and the pair of pajama pants she’d discarded the night before. Bare feet making no sound against the painted floor, clothes in one hand, she shuffled forward until her fingers touched familiar curtains, then she let herself out the French doors and into the apartment.
With early morning light pouring in through the tall windows on either side of the room, she could see well enough to cross toward the kitchen without either night-sight charms or needing to turn on a lamp. So she should’ve been able to see Jack sitting at the kitchen table, eating something from a mixing bowl that sounded like cold cereal, but with Jack, it was never wise to make assumptions. Should have been able to see him. Hadn’t. Not until she was almost beside him and he blinked sleepily up at her. If he asked, she intended to say she’d been absorbed in plans to save the world. And that she’d meant to trip backward over the arm of the sofa, arms and legs flailing.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Rolling off the sofa onto her knees, she stood, pulled on the pajama pants and T-shirt and walked into the kitchen.
“It’s just you kind of spazzed out and it looked like it might have hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, prying the lid off the coffee canister and spraying grounds all over the counter.
“So I can laugh.” When she flipped him off, he snickered and waved his spoon at the mess. “I could clean that up for you.”
“I don’t . . .”
“During my last growth spurt, the one where I got taller than you . . .”
“Shut up.”
“. . . . I spilled stuff all over the place. I got good at cleaning up and coffee grounds go everywhere. Let me help.”
“No, it’s all right, I can . . .” Charlie glanced toward him as she spoke and caught the quick flicker of gold in his eyes. “What?”
“It was only an offer to help you clean up,” he muttered. “Not to roll around naked with you until you smell like me instead of Allie and Graham.”
She lifted her arm to her nose. “I don’t . . .”
“Dragon.”
“Right.” Leaning against the counter, weight on one hip, Charlie yawned and ran both hands through the tangled mass of her hair. “Does it bother you?”
“A little.”
“I’m not . . .”
“Did I ask you to? It’s just . . .” There was suddenly a lot more scale and a lot less skin. “. . . I’m fighting instincts when you smell like them.”
“I didn’t know.” And Charlie’d thought the whole misaligned attraction between them couldn’t get any worse. Jack fighting instincts that might have even a remote chance of being dangerous to her babies would put Allie in full protection mode. The whole city would go into lockdown. “I’ll go shower.”
“Coffee first,” he snorted, tossing his twisted spoon into the empty bowl, mostly skin again. “It’s under control, and I worry about you drowning when you’re less than caffeinated.”
“Cute.”
“Thanks.”
Coffee sounded like a terrific idea.
“Does it affect the flavor?” she asked as a tiny whirlwind lifted the pile of spilled grounds back into the canister.
“Graham says it doesn’t.” The corners of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, but wasn’t sure he should. “Allie says it makes it harder to charm.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“Yeah. That’s what Graham says.” The smile broke free and Charlie had to stop herself from taking a step back. Or forward. He didn’t look seventeen when he smiled; there was too much dragon in the teeth and a hint of danger in the curve.
These were not feelings she could deal with before coffee, and she barely resisted dropping the fourth spoonful into her mouth after the first three went into the French press.
“Charlie?”
And now he sounded . . . young. Which he was.
“Yeah, Jack.”
“You need to take me back four years so I can be trained.”
Charlie spilled the coffee again. “What part of the family doesn’t deal with the Fey did you miss?”
“This isn’t dealing with the Fey, this is me keeping you and probably Katie alive.”
The coffee was taking too damned long. “What?”
“Before the ritual . . .”
“The one the aunties want you and me to join.” That ritual.
“Yeah, before that happens, you have to take me back in time. We’ll go out to the badlands where there’s room to maneuver and aim for the day my mother came through. I bet that made a mark.”
“Jack . . .”
“Then we drive back to town and I use the imprint of the old gate at the Fort to drop into the UnderRealm. I mean we know I’m not in there, right? I’m in the park. And my uncles collectively got their asses kicked home, so it could be years before they even notice I’m with the Courts. And since we know they haven’t shown up to screw things up here, they won’t show up to screw things up here.” He danced the second spill back into the canister and up into a second whirlwind; a dark roast tornado about a foot high. “I’ll be back the day I left, trained. Able to control myself. Maybe able to stop the asteroid. You won’t even have noticed that I was gone. And I’ll be twenty-one. I know,” he held up a hand before she could speak, “it’s still nine years, but . . .”
“Jack! It’s still thirteen years, I’ll be thirty-four.”
The whirlwind collapsed. “What?”
Sagging against the counter, Charlie rubbed both hands over her face. “If I take you four years into the past, I have to live those years. Avoiding myself. Waiting for the day we left.”
“Why? Just go back through the Wood.”
“Go forward?”
“Sure, why not? You’re in the past, right? You know the future happened. Go back to where we came in when we went back.”
She’d never thought about going forward, but from the past, she was going into the present, not the future and the present was obviously reachable because they were standing in it. “That might work.”
“Thanks for sounding so surprised.” He took the kettle from her hand and poured the hot water into the press. “I’m going to blame it on the lack of caffeine. You go back to where we came in, only at a different place so you don’t end up with yourself, and I’ll come back through a gate the next day.”
Leaning forward, inhaling the coffee-scented steam, Charlie went over the idea and couldn’t find a flaw. “Okay, smart guy, we can probably bullshit this past the aunties—safety, heritage, why no, I didn’t notice anything different about Jack—but what about the Court’s price?”
“Four years without you.”
She straightened. “What?”
Jack slid the coffee canister to the back of the counter, eyes locked on his hands. “Four years exiled from the one who completes me. Four years longing. Four years alone. And no happily ever after once we’re back together because you’ll still be nine years older than me. They’ll eat that kind of thing up with a spoon. A Dragon Prince caught in the one rule the Gales won’t
break.”
“You’ll pay them to teach you to be a sorcerer with emotional pain?” It was hard to hear her own voice over the roaring in her ears.
He shrugged. “That’s the thing about the Courts; basically, they’re dicks.”
“No.”
“They really are.”
“No, you aren’t giving them . . . that.”
“You don’t get to make that decision.” He turned to look at her then and, if not for the slide of scales up and down his arms, he’d have looked unaffected by what they were discussing. “That’s the price to keep the world from ending.”
“Jack . . .”
“We can’t let the world end for everyone who isn’t family without doing everything we can to stop it. Right?”
Charlie palmed the top of the press and forced it down. It hadn’t been four minutes. She didn’t care. At this point, she was willing to Walk back eight minutes, beat herself out of the bedroom, and make the coffee sooner. That Jack would offer so much of himself for those outside the family, well, the outside the family was part of the freedom of being Wild, but his total lack of awareness of how astounding it was, of how astounding he was, that was all Jack. The Gale motto was family first. Actually, it was Omnes Sumus nos Postulo, “We are all We Need”; Auntie Ruby had embroidered it on a pillow, but family first was close enough.
“Charlie?”
She took a deep breath and met his eyes, letting everything she felt show in hers. “I have to think about it.”
“You’ve got nine days.”
And that, that didn’t sound young at all. Gods, he was complicated. And amazing. “Oh, yay. Another deadline. You know, if I didn’t already like you too much . . .”
His smile twisted as he cut her off. “Good thing you do. If it was me feeling stuff all alone, well, plain old unrequited liking too much wouldn’t be twisty enough for the Courts. But being kept from someone who completes me . . .”
“Completes you?”
“Totally.”
“Fuck, Jack.” Not the best choice of profanity, she realized.
The cloud of smoke came a heartbeat behind the sound of the apartment door opening. Charlie tried not to think of squids and ink. It was possible she watched a little too much Discovery Channel.
“Honestly, Jack . . .” Auntie Gwen’s indignation led the way. “. . . if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. You can’t smoke around the babies.”
Barely able to see Jack, Charlie stepped back, a hundred thousand performances keeping her hands from shaking as she poured her coffee.
“But they’re in their room.” The smoke moved toward the windows. “With the door closed.”
“That’s them. We’re talking about you.”
“Sorry.”
Auntie Gwen closed the window as the smoke dispersed, invisible in the steady rain. “Don’t be sorry, stop doing it. Is that coffee?”
“It is.” Charlie took a long swallow, then asked, “Would you like some?” She was a little impressed by how normal she sounded.
“No, I was inquiring for interest’s sake. Of course I’d like some.”
Jack passed over a World’s Greatest Auntie mug, and Charlie resisted the urge to hum a charm in as she filled it.
“Are Alysha and Graham still in bed?” Mug in one hand, Auntie Gwen checked her watch. “It’s almost nine and we need to start finding houses for sale around the park. If enough of the family is moving west, we’ll need charms in place early to keep the situation under control and out of the papers.”
“I thought Auntie Jane wanted us to wait until after the ritual?”
“The ritual . . .” Aunt Gwen frowned at the rain on the window for a moment. “While I agree that we need to make every attempt to ensure the family’s survival, I have no idea what Jane thinks the ritual will do.”
“Beyond what the ritual always does?” Charlie asked flippantly.
The look Auntie Gwen shot her almost made her regret her tone. “Yes, Charlotte. Beyond what ritual always does. However, and regardless of what Jane chooses to believe, this is no longer a world where we can do as we like, removing inconveniences after the fact.” The edge on her voice made it clear she’d neither forgiven nor forgotten Auntie Jane slapping her down and there would be consequences in due time. “If we want to move a significant portion of the family to Calgary for safety, we need to deal with the Calgary real estate market and that requires Alysha’s input.”
As Charlie understood it, the Calgary real estate market could give an extinction event a run for its money in the holy fucking hell stress department. Four aunties weren’t nearly enough to control it. “I’ll go wake Allie.”
“And Graham. He has a useful outsider’s perspective.” Auntie Gwen took a swallow of coffee and blinked. “Did you make this, Jack?”
“No, Charlie did.”
“Really? Because it tastes like the sort of coffee people who breathe fire would drink.”
Halfway to the bedroom, Charlie turned and walked backward. “I like it strong, Auntie Gwen.”
“There’s a difference between strong and abusive, sweetie.”
About to suggest she pour it back into the carafe if it was so terrible, Charlie’s back bounced off a firm barrier. Strong hands grabbed her arms and steadied her.
“Gwen.” Graham sounded more resigned than thrilled to find an auntie in his kitchen on a Monday morning.
“Graham.” Auntie Gwen on the other hand sounded positively perky. And she was smiling. Charlie felt Graham shudder.
“Allie’ll be right out.” He moved Charlie away from his chest. “I’m going to go check on the boys. Jack . . .”
“More coffee. On it.”
Graham moved away and Jack got the bigger coffeepot off the top of the refrigerator. Charlie watched Auntie Gwen drink coffee she didn’t like, brows drawn in, both hands wrapped around the mug, dark eyes shadowed, and had a terrible feeling she had real estate listings in her future. As though an asteroid and the whole mess with Jack wasn’t enough.
By noon they’d been contacted by three second circle couples and Auntie Mary had emailed the names of four more third circle boys and their lists.
“Fortunately, there’s a fair bit of overlap on the lists,” Allie noted, deftly removing one of Charlie’s capos from Evan’s mouth. “And the eleven still in school can transfer to programs here . . .” Evan squeaked as her hold tightened. “Although I guess it’s not really worth it for twenty-two months. And after that we’ll have other things to worry about, won’t we?”
“Mama! Squish!”
“Sorry, darling.”
The twins, Charlie noted, were not on the lists. The odds were high the twins were prepping for a trip to Australia, thrilled to be heading for a continent where most of the fauna and a good chunk of the flora could kill them.
“Cha Cha?” Small hands clutched at her jeans.
“What can I do for you, Edward?”
“Up!”
We can save him, Charlie thought as she lifted the toddler onto her lap. And Evan and all five of the brothers to be named later. In spite of Auntie Jane, they were working on that now. We can save, if not all the family—because Uncle Arthur and the oldest of the aunties wouldn’t be able to leave Ontario—most of the family. An enclave here. An enclave somewhere else. Joined this time only by her ability to Walk the Wood. Hers and Auntie Catherine’s if Auntie Catherine could be convinced to help. Charlie wasn’t one hundred percent positive that Auntie Catherine would bother to come home.
“Want!”
“Too bad, kidlet.” She set the sharpie far enough away he couldn’t reach it, although he tried. Alive was better, she wasn’t arguing with that, but what kind of world would Edward and his brothers grow up in? The Gales could slide back to a more primitive existence without much difficulty, back
to the land was pretty close to a religious statement, but they’d be robbed of so much.
“No, I think we should concentrate on the north side.” Allie slid her tablet across the table to Auntie Gwen. “Get everything on Macewan that actually touches the park.”
“That’ll attract too much attention, Alysha.”
“We can keep a lid on it for twenty-two months. And then it won’t matter.”
How, Charlie wondered, could she look any of Allie’s children in the eye if she hadn’t done everything possible to ensure they could grow up playing the bagpipes on their phone?
“I have to go.” Leaping to her feet with Edward on her lap, probably not the best idea, but she caught him before he hit the floor, swung him into the air, shrieking with laughter, and handed him to Auntie Gwen. “I have to . . .” So easy to lie. Screw it. “. . . talk to Jack.”
“You’re only making it harder on both of you, Charlotte.”
A little exasperation, but that was standard for Auntie Gwen. The pity in her voice, that was new. Charlie stopped at the door, and turned around. “You told her we talked about it?”
Color high on her cheeks, Allie shook her head. “Charlie, she already knew.”
“Not that we’d talked about it. Not that it was suddenly all right to talk to me about it. It’s no one’s business but mine and Jack’s, and now it’s open season, isn’t it? Fucking wonderful.”
“Fucking!” Edward shouted as she slammed the door.
Ron Sexsmith’s “Doomed” played all the way down the stairs. Charlie let it run.
* * *
Joe glanced up from the invoice books as she came into the Emporium, raised one ginger brow, and pointed his pencil toward the far end of the store. Charlie opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again. If Auntie Gwen knew, Joe knew.
Jack held up a hand as she approached. “. . . twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine. Joe! Twenty-nine!”
“Got it!”
“Skate guards,” Jack told her before she could ask.
“For when hell freezes over?” Charlie reached past him and picked up a piece of hot-pink plastic, sized to fit a child’s skate. “Donated to charity sale by Jack Frost? Jutunn sandals?”
