by Molly Harper
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there is no wildlife in the area, because the rift chases them away,” Dani said again, in her “talking to people who refuse to understand airport security procedures” voice. “Now, get back to the human line, before you get hurt.”
The woman scoffed in a manner that was really beginning to piss Dani off. “There’s no reason. I’m fine, you see. Just like you. It’s always nice to meet another of my kind. I’m a dynakinetic, like you. Well, not like you. I’m sure I’ve been at it much longer.”
Dani tilted her head and stared at her. “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”
“Maureen Sherman, independent contractor with the ILIC. The League sent me to supplement your work on la faille. I’ve been doing my own research on rifts for a few years now. I’m currently writing the definitive book on the subject. And it takes many hands to accomplish great work.”
Dani’s brows knit together. “No one told me about this.”
Maureen tilted her head in a gesture Dani had come to recognize as “oh, bless your heart” in the South. “Well, I’m sure they didn’t want to undermine your confidence, dear. Besides the League hardly keeps us contractors updated on all of their maneuvering, do they?”
If this woman called Dani, “dear” one more time, Dani was going to punch her in the boob.
“That much is true, I guess. Does Jillian know about this?”
Maureen smiled blithely. “As of this morning, yes.”
“So, I guess you got assigned office space in Building Eleven, too, huh?”
“Oh, who could work in Building Eleven with that awful stain on the carpet and the smell of stale coffee wafting about the hallways?” Maureen exclaimed. “I went back to Dr. Ramsay’s office and demanded space in Building Three, which is much more commensurate with my position, nearest the key researchers. Lara, that rather high-strung girl behind the front desk? She was very accommodating, once she realized with whom she was dealing.”
Dani frowned. Right, because she was a much more high-profile employee than Dani. Normally, Dani didn’t worry about jockeying for position with the League. But something about Maureen’s demeanor, like Dani’d had the job swiped out from under her, was sticking in Dani’s craw. And the fact that Maureen was writing her own book on rifts? Well, that was just the cherry on the crap sundae of her morning.
“Well, you look like you’re just getting started. I barely detected secondary pulses or reverberatory waves. Have you done any repairs at all?”
Dani had been working in this field for five years, and she’d never heard any of the words that were coming out of Maureen Sherman’s mouth. Was Dani really so badly educated or was Sherman being a pretentious twit?
“No, I didn’t want to rush and make any mistakes. A job done without preparation is dangerous and half-done,” Dani said.
“And a job done with too much preparation is rarely done at all,” Maureen told her.
Seriously, this woman was courting a double boob punch.
“I don’t mean to get in your way, certainly. I’ve been out here most of the morning, so I’ll just pop back to town and leave you to it.”
“All right then,” said Dani.
“It was nice to meet you, dear.”
Dani hummed, but didn’t returned the sentiment. Even with the politeness her Gramma had tried to drill into her bones, Dani didn’t regret for one second that it was anything but nice to meet Maureen Sherman.
Dani turned her back on the woman, listening for signs she was sneaking up behind Dani again. But Sherman shuffled through the high grass, away from her. And no matter how hard Dani tried to concentrate over the next hour, she couldn’t focus on the work in front of her. Dani wasn’t prone to letting distraction derail her work, but with her grandfather’s farm hanging in the balance, she couldn’t help but feel anxiety creep up her throat like icy fingers. Maureen Sherman’s presence nagged at her until she had to pack up her things, stomp back through the over-blown flowers and drive back to town in her newly rented car.
She knew that hiring Miss Sherman wasn’t meant to be personal. It was the League’s dime to spend however they wanted, as long as Maureen’s work didn’t interfere with hers. She thought that Jillian accepted her thoughtful approach to the rift problem. She thought Jillian appreciated her work. There was no reason for the League to send in backup. It felt like having a teacher she no longer needed double-checking her classwork.
She was going to have to be careful how she handled this. She didn’t want to go to Jillian and complain because then she might come across as someone who couldn’t manage conflict with her coworkers. But at the same time, she wanted to make sure her contract fee wasn’t going to be split with someone whose hiring she had no control over. How was she supposed to pay off her father’s debts with half of her fee? If that was the way Jillian was going to run things, Dani was going to have to set out on another assignment. Whether her next assignment was with the League or not depended on Jillian’s response.
Dani blew out a long, labored breath at one of the few stop signs between the rift and Main Street. She really hoped that she didn’t have to leave Mystic Bayou. She really liked it here. She liked her strange house on the water. She liked her friendship with Jillian and the connections she was making with residents of the Bayou. It had been a long time since she’d had a friend that wasn’t Trudy. And she’d liked what she’d started with Zed . . . until it got weird.
She was going to have to think on how to bring that back into non-weird territory. But first things first, her job.
Dani climbed the steps to Jillian’s office building, taking deep steadying breaths. She reminded herself that she was not approaching Jillian as her friend, but as her boss. She’d done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t making any unreasonable requests. She had to remain calm, but firm. And she could not accept any bullshit from Lara, the cranky secretary, who was lurking at her desk like a watchful vulture.
Dani didn’t even pause as she passed by. “Is Jillian free?”
“Almost never.” Lara sprang up from her desk, following Dani to Jillian’s door. “You can’t just walk into her office, she’s the head liaison! Do you have any idea what that means?”
“I really respect that you’re about to throw yourself across me like I’m some sort of incendiary device, but I need to talk to my boss. And I happen to know she is taking a morning pie break at this time of day, so I don’t feel like I’m interrupting any secret matters of the supernatural state.”
Jillian opened the door, her glasses propped on top of her head. “What’s all this noise? Dani, is everything okay?”
Lara jumped in. “I tried to tell her, Dr. Ramsay, but she—”
“I ignored her completely,” said Dani. “She did her best to keep me out.”
“Lara, it’s okay, really,” said Jillian. “You don’t have to give me the full Buckingham guard detail. Why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee or something? Decaf?”
“Well, who will watch your door if I do that?”
Jillian assured her, “I think I can survive a few minutes on my own.”
“I don’t like it,” said Lara.
“I’ll be sure to note that on your next employee evaluation.”
“Thank you.” Lara grabbed her purse and a camera bag from under her desk and walked out of the waiting room, locking the door behind her.
“She is going to have an ulcer before she’s thirty,” said Dani.
“Sorry. I know it’s a hassle every time you need to talk to me,” said Jillian. “Maybe we can set up some sort of cup and string system between our offices. Or, you know, email, like normal people.”
“This felt like a conversation that needed to happen face-to-face.”
“Is it about the thing with Zed the other day?” Jillian asked.
Dani gasped. “He told you about that?”
Jillian snickered. “No, but you’ve both been acting like a couple of scalded hens around each other
. So I figure it had to be something sexual or Zed caught you in some sort of blood-letting ritual.”
“Sometimes hanging around someone who is trained in the art of observing people is a real pain in the ass,” Dani sighed.
Jillian blushed prettily. “Every once in a while, I need to practice my skills. So, as much as I appreciate the anthropological workout and you stirring up my already high-strung receptionist, what brings you by?”
Dani realized she’d already lost the plot in terms of approaching Jillian in a professional manner, considering she’d all but admitted to boning the mayor, potentially creating a tense situation between League and parish officials. So she did her best to recover some dignity by using her calmest voice to ask, “I just wanted to double check. The terms of my contract. They’re not changing, correct?”
Jillian frowned, her shoulders straightening. “No, one thing the League takes very serious is contracts. Once we sign them, they’re iron-clad as long as you fulfill the terms of your service. Why do you ask?”
Dani opened her mouth to lodge a detailed complaint about Maureen Sherman and her condescending invasion, but somehow just couldn’t make words come out of her mouth. Suddenly, she felt like she’d overreacted, shoving her way into Jillian’s office, upsetting Lara. Not to mention the slip-up revealing her . . . Zed issue. This had been an overreaction, based in panic. And now she felt like a colossal idiot.
Jillian groaned. “Is this about the other contractor horning in on your space? The redhead?”
Dani’s mouth opened and closed, a bit like a giant fish. Maybe she wasn’t a colossal idiot after all. “Yeah, it is.”
Jillian sighed. “I know, it’s annoying. I’m so sorry, Dani. I requested the exact people that I want working for me, carefully chosen from extensive lists, and then the League just makes these hiring decisions and don’t even consult with me.”
All of the tension that had been gathering in Dani’s belly loosened, and she sagged against the chair. Jillian didn’t think so little of her that she was about to be replaced. Her job was secure. She didn’t have to worry about securing Grandad’s debts. “Oh, well, that does make me feel better.”
“It couldn’t be helped. But I know that you’re going to rise above it and get the job done.”
Dani nodded. “I will. This job is really important to me, Jillian. I’m not going to do anything to mess it up.”
“Of course you won’t. Trust me, I know you’re determined to do well, come hell or high-water. Like minds recognize each other,” Jillian said.
“Thanks, that means a lot.”
“I’m just sorry you had to brave Lara’s angry dragon routine to talk to me about an uncomfortable working situation that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.”
Dani waved her concerns off. “It’s fine. Is there anything you want to ask me about, from my reports?”
“Nope, they’ve all been clear and concise. Anything you care to share about the other day with Zed?”
Dani shook her head while pressing her lips together. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“Yeah, I should probably stop the teasing before harassment paperwork becomes involved. Then again, I’m the one who signs off on the complaints . . . so, yeah, this will never stop being funny.”
8
Zed
After they’d made what Zed considered pretty epic love in the faille clearing, Dani had been quiet the whole drive back to her house and had barely offered a kiss or a handshake or ‘Embrasse moi tchew’ before telling him, “Thanks!” and hopping out of the truck.
Zed couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened. He’d never had a woman thank him for sex, put on her clothes, and walk away. And now Zed seemed incapable of having a conversation with Dani without coming off like a complete couillion. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where to look now that he’d seen what she had going on under the llamas. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He spent their rare interactions just trying to figure out where to put his hands.
And so Zed sat in Bathtilda’s Pie Shop on a Thursday morning, trying to drown his sorrows in pastry and figure out what had happened to his dignity.
The pie shop was a pre-Civil War wood structure that had been pressed into service when Bathtilda decided to open her sweet shop. Its pressed tin roof and walls were painted white and emerald green. But of course, a dragon couldn’t have a space without gold. All of the art on the walls featured gold foil in some way, whether it was a landscape, a painting of a gray kitten, an old icon of a Russian orthodox saint, or a landscape of the Las Vegas skyline. The mismatched paintings added a sort of weird kitchiness to the classic diner arrangement, with the polished maple lunch counter and weathered green vinyl booths.
A dozen mismatched pie stands stood along the long maple counter, their clear homes displaying all of Siobhan’s pie creations from lemon meringue to the apple-pear crumble. The house specialty, chocolate-rhubarb, had a special place on the back counter behind Siobhan, near a mirror veined with gold. Zed had never had a taste for it. It was just a bit too sour for him and he’d never liked the combination of chocolate and fruit. His favorite had always been blueberry. It was a taste of summer, of rolling in high grass, and fattening up for winter.
Bathtilda was smart enough to know that while she had a head for business, she was no baker. Decades before, she’d gone into partnership with Siobhan, who worked magic in the kitchen, and in the dining room. Bathtilda managed the inventory and the books while Siobhan determined what sort of pie the customers needed, and served it to them on Bathtilda’s gold-rimmed plates.
But there was no blueberry goodness on Zed’s plate this morning. So far, all he’d eaten was a big slice of humble pie, served by Bael Boone. Bael was sitting in the booth across from Zed, smirking into his coffee.
Bastard.
“And then what happened?”
“She said ‘thanks’ and hopped out of my truck! Thanks! Like I’d changed a flat tire for her. I’m telling you, man, I felt used and cheap.” Zed frowned, looking every inch the pouty bear.
“What’s your deal with her?” Bael asked. “I’ve never seen you so twisted up over a girl before. Usually you like a girl, and if she likes you back, awesome. And if not, you move along to somebody else. But you’re spinning on Dani like a hamster wheel.”
“I don’t know,” Zed admitted. “I’ve never met anybody like her. She doesn’t make anything easy for me. She’s not immune from my charms, exactly. But she leaves it at that. I’m throwing out my best woo and she just smiles and moves on in the conversation. I have no idea what she’s thinking any time, ever. I mean, Pam was crazy, but she was predictable. If you talked during Gray’s Anatomy, she broke your stuff. If she sees that her number is saved under ‘Crazy Pam’ on your phone, she throws a TV through your bathroom window. There were patterns. This girl, I just never know. The things that would make most girls go nuts? Not even a blip on her radar. But imply that I might like to take her out on a date, it’s apparently the greatest insult to womanhood since strip aerobics.”
“So, she’s not falling all over herself to crawl into your love cave. Boo freaking hoo.”
“Well, that’s not the sympathetic response I was hoping for,” Zed said.
“Oh, because for once, you’re having to work to keep a lady’s attention? That’s called being a grown-ass man, being interested in a grown-ass woman. Because grown-ass women require more of you. You think it’s easy trying to hold a conversation with a woman who has a Ph-damned-D? All of the words she uses have more than three syllables. You know what she talks about in her sleep? VENN DIAGRAMS. Because of her, I went out and bought a damn book on poverty and how it affects American communities. But it’s worth it. Because grown-ass women are worth it. Yeah, these girls from the outside world are wily and unpredictable—Ow.” He paused as Jillian slid into the booth and lightly punched his bicep.
“I am not wily or unpredictable,” Jillian said, pointing a finge
r in his face. “I am a delicate fucking flower of guilelessness.”
“You’re right, elskling, You’re practically made of spun sugar.” Bael pushed part of his pecan pie over toward Jillian’s plate and she seemed slightly mollified.
Zed laughed. “Tell me again how it’s all worth it.”
“You make whipping sounds and I’ll take you outside and beat your ass,” said Bael.
Jillian shrugged and scooped pie into her mouth.
“I went through something similar with Jillian after we first got together, remember? I showed her my horde, which is as close to ‘Will you go steady with me, check yes or no?’ as dragons get. And she thought it was a research opportunity?” Bael reminded him. “We had weeks of miscommunication because she didn’t get my culture. And that was with a woman who desperately wanted to understand and accommodate that culture.”
“I said I was sorry about that,” said Jillian. “There is literally no book about how to date a dragon.”
Bael kissed her forehead. “I know, sweetheart.”
“So, I have questions,” said Jillian.
The men at the table chorused, “Of course, you do.”
Jillian ignored them. “Don’t bears tend to have a lot of partners? Bael said you dated around plenty before I got here.”
“When we find the right woman, we give her the mating bite—after proposing—and that prepares her body to carry our young. Werewolves do something similar.”
“But you don’t mate for life?” Jillian asked.
Zed grinned. “Yes, unlike real bears, we mate for life. And we reach sexual maturity very early.”
She lifted a brow. “Great, when will you reach emotional maturity?”
Zed waggled his hand back and forth. “Meh.”
“So, here’s my advice,” Bael cut in. “Man-bear up and tell her that you’d like to date her and take her out for pie and spend a Sunday with your mama. But if she doesn’t want that right now, that’s fine. If she’s who you want, you’ll accept what she’s willing to give, until she’s willing to give more.”
