by Zoe Chant
Neither Pete nor Tirzah replied.
“Think about it,” Gorlois said. “I can remove you both from your filthy little crawl space any time I like. But if you make me do it rather than coming out of your own accord, I will show no mercy.”
There was a long silence, and then the footsteps retreated.
Wincing, Pete tried to pull himself up. She supported him until he’d managed to sit leaning back against her chest. Tirzah followed his gaze as he scanned the attic. “You made a barricade. Good work. That… that pterodactyl-thing…”
“Pteranodon,” Tirzah said absent-mindedly. “They’re like pterodactyls, but way bigger.”
Pete managed a smile. “Trust you to know. Well, it’ll have a hell of a time trying to get in, once he gets bored with waiting for us to surrender.”
“Yeah, but it’s just buying time.”
“That’s all we need. If I can just rest an hour or so, my shifter healing will kick in and I’ll be able to fight again.”
“Really?” Tirzah wasn’t sure if he knew something she didn’t or if that was just Pete being Pete.
“Well—hopefully.”
So, just Pete being Pete. “Oh.”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t give up now. We made it this far.”
“Who said anything about giving up? If they break in and you can’t fight, I’ll throw old Christmas tree ornaments at them. If I time it just right, maybe I can toss one right down their gullet and choke them.”
“You do that.” He smiled, but she could hear the pain and exhaustion in his voice. Before she could say anything more, his eyes closed, and his body relaxed as he sank into sleep.
She eased him back down with his head in her lap, and pulled the quilt back over him. He didn’t stir.
Tirzah too was exhausted, but she didn’t dare sleep. It wasn’t as if she could fight off their enemies, but she felt like she had to guard him. She forced her burning eyes to stay open and her aching body to stay upright as she sat stroking his hair and holding his hand, and listening to their enemies screeching outside.
CHAPTER 27
“Discussion topic!” Caro announced as Merlin began setting takeout hamburgers around the table in the boardroom. She pointed to his Harry Potter shirt. “Do you all agree that the velociraptor patronus is blue?”
“Yes,” said Roland, beginning to smile.
“Blue as a blueberry,” said Merlin.
Ransom, who looked like he’d been forced to the table at gunpoint, gave a cautious nod.
“Are we all seeing the same color?” Caro asked. “Or are we all seeing different colors, but calling them all ‘blue?’ Support your reasoning.”
“Yes, of course we’re all seeing the same color,” said Roland. “If we weren’t, we wouldn’t all call it by the same name.”
For the first time, Ransom looked interested. “The ancient Greeks wrote about the ‘wine-dark sea.’ What did they see? No wine is the color of the ocean.”
Merlin chimed in, “And in Japanese, ‘ao’ means ‘blue or green.’ So if someone says a coat is ‘ao,’ you don’t know if they mean blue or green or blue-green.”
“But they’re still seeing the same color, regardless of what they call it,” Roland said.
“Not necessarily,” said Ransom. “They might be colorblind.”
“Or they might see more colors than normal!” Merlin said. “Like when I—”
Ransom reached for the fries. His elbow hit Merlin’s soda and overturned it into his lap. Merlin leaped up with a yelp.
“Oops,” Ransom said, not sounding particularly sorry.
“Don’t worry about it,” Merlin said, mopping his chair and clothes with a wad of paper towels.
“Caro?” Roland asked. “Are we all seeing the same blue, or not?”
Since Merlin and Ransom had staked out the “no” position, Caro sided with Roland. “Yes, we are. How can we know that some people are colorblind? Because in fact, we can determine that they’re not seeing the same colors as the rest of us! Therefore, unless we’re colorblind, we’re all seeing the same colors.”
“You didn’t specify that you’re leaving colorblind people out,” Merlin said.
“What if everyone else in the world is seeing the color you see as red, but they’re calling it blue?” Ransom asked.
As Caro responded to those valid points, she heaved an inward sigh of relief. Finally, she’d managed to get Ransom and Roland to talk to her like she was a person, rather than a representative of that alien race of non-adults (Ransom) or someone who had to be protected like she was made of glass (Roland). That made the dinner about 1000% less awkward.
Though she did wish she knew what Merlin had been about to say before Ransom had interrupted him by deliberately knocking over his soda. However nice they were all being, they were obviously hiding something. Even Merlin, who seemed forthcoming, would distract her with stories about ponies or circuses or circus ponies whenever she asked about anything he didn’t want to talk about it. He was as cagey as the rest of them, just better at hiding it.
As soon as dinner was finished, Caro stood up. “Thanks. I think I’ll go read and then go to bed. Good night! Have sweet dreams of blue, which as we now know is definitely the same color for all of us. Unless you’re colorblind.”
They all wished her good night.
“Call if you need anything,” Roland said. “Any time.”
“I’ll be fine,” Caro said. “I’m thirteen, not seven.”
“Even thirty-year-olds sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and want a drink of water or a snack or some company,” Merlin pointed out. “Anyway, we’ll be around.”
Caro went to her rooms, bolted the door, and immediately headed for the bathroom, where she had left Moonbow after releasing him from the jewelry box she’d hurriedly repurposed as a tiny flying pony carrier. She’d felt bad about punching holes in it, but not that bad. What was an inanimate object, however much sentimental value it had, compared to her living winged stallion?
She opened the door and smiled to see him peacefully munching on the grass clippings she’d left in the bathtub. He looked up at her and nickered softly, and she scratched behind his ears until he returned to grazing.
Restless, she wandered back into the bedroom. Despite the assurances she’d given Dad’s teammates, it was strange being in this room by herself (well, except for Moonbow). It felt kind of like being alone in a hotel, though of course she’d never done that either. Caro flopped down on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. She’d wanted so much to know more about Dad and his work, but now that she’d met his teammates and his client and was even staying at his office, she felt like she knew less than before, not more.
Secrets! She felt suffocated by secrets.
Moonbow flew out, his opalescent tail and mane streaming, and landed on her bed. Stroking him, she murmured, “Except for you. I love you.”
Though she didn’t love having to keep him secret. She’d almost had a heart attack when Dad had tried to hustle her out the door without Moonbow.
She wished she hadn’t yelled at Dad when he’d left. He was going to do something dangerous, obviously, and she hadn’t even said good-bye.
At least he’d hugged her that one time in the garage without stiffening up like he wanted to get away from her. That had been more like her old Dad…
…the Dad from when she’d been a little kid. From when she’d been Lina.
If she’d been younger, it would have made sense for Dad to treat her like a kid who needed to be protected from everything, even knowledge. If she’d been older, maybe he’d trust her judgment more.
“Thirteen is the worst age,” she sighed to Moonbow.
Moonbow’s ears pricked forward, and he trotted to the edge of the bed. His elegant neck stretched out as he looked up at the big window, then he glanced back at her. The moon had risen, and hung in the night sky like a pearl.
Caro smiled ruefully. “You can go flying if you like. B
ut I can’t come with you. If I get stuck outside when the moon sets, there’s no way I’d ever be able to explain it.”
She got up and went to the window. Turning back, she called to Moonbow, “Well? Want to go?”
Moonbow gave an eager whinny. Smiling, Caro turned to open the window.
Some flying thing smacked into the screen.
Caro leaped back with a strangled gasp, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Her heart was hammering so loudly that she could hear nothing else.
The thing clinging to her window flapped its wings and pressed its whiskered face into the screen. It wasn’t a thing, it was a kitten. A tiny, adorable kitten with wings, clutching a silver necklace in its mouth.
Caro’s adrenaline rush subsided so fast it left her dizzy. She felt her lips part in a half-disbelieving, half-delighted smile. A flying kitten! Was it a friend of Moonbow who had come to visit him? Or had she somehow become known as a rescuer of lost magical creatures?
Moonbow flew up and tapped on the glass with one hoof. It rang sharply, like a wind chime.
Caro opened the window, and the kitten flew inside. Once it was in the light, she could see that it was pure black and very fluffy, wings included. It landed on her shoulder. She reached up to pet it, and it released the necklace it held in its mouth. Cold metal fell into Caro’s outstretched palm with an oddly familiar jingle. She lifted the chain, letting the pendants dangle before her eyes.
They were her father’s dog tags.
CHAPTER 28
P ete slept without dreams, as deeply and heavily as if his own shifter healing was grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and yanking him in every time he closed his eyes. He woke several times, always when their enemies scraped or banged against the trap door or attic. But they always failed to get in, then retreated, presumably to figure out a new approach.
Every time he woke, Tirzah was holding him. It felt to him as if he was being healed less by rest and his own power than by the touch of her skin and the force of her love. She looked exhausted, with black smudges under her bloodshot eyes, but she always refused his suggestion that she get some sleep herself.
He’d stood guard over wounded Marines, and now she was standing guard over him, unarmed yet undaunted. His heart felt like it would burst with love for her.
Next time I wake up, he thought as he slid back into sleep. Next time, I’ll be able to protect her…
He was shocked out of sleep by the sound of shattering glass. Pete sat bolt upright, instinctively reaching for a weapon he didn’t have. The snapping beak of the flying dinosaur, sharp as a razor and long as a baseball bat, had stabbed through the window and into the attic itself.
Tirzah screamed. Pete grabbed her and they both scrambled backwards, though they were already out of reach of the beak. They fetched up against the opposite wall.
Spike, who had been curled up next to him, took to the air with a yowl and shot a fusillade of cactus spines at the beak. They all bounced off. The beak opened menacingly, displaying a gaping red maw, then clacked together with a sound like a gunshot.
Then it withdrew. Pete saw the pteranodon flying away, its immense wings beating heavily. Cold air blew in through the shattered window. The glass on the floor glinted in the moonlight. Outside the window, Pete could see the full moon, and the black silhouettes of the pteranodon and the gargoyle as they flew across it, screeching.
“I should block that.” He stood up, ducking to not hit his head on the ceiling, and took a step toward an old dresser.
Dizziness swept over him. His knees hit the floor hard enough to make his teeth click together. He would have fallen over entirely if Tirzah hadn’t grabbed him.
“Goddammit.” He felt weak and cold, and involuntary shivers shook his body. His chest hurt so badly that it was hard to catch his breath. But the worst part was the frustration of being unable to protect Tirzah when she needed him.
“Take it easy,” she said. “It can’t get in.”
The window was suddenly filled with a giant reptilian eye, yellow and cold. Both Pete and Tirzah jumped.
Pete nudged Spike. The cactus kitten puffed up, but the eye vanished just as he fired his spines. It was replaced by a set of huge claws gripping the windowsill. The spines also bounced off the thick scaly skin of the flying dinosaur’s foot.
Tirzah’s curly hair brushed Pete’s face as she put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “What do you think he’s doing?”
Pete started to shrug when a tremendous bang and impact rocked the attic. Tirzah jumped, and Pete held her tight. Another bang and impact. And another.
The tip of the pteranodon’s beak broke into the thick log walls of the attic. Like some monstrous woodpecker, it was using the window to perch and was pecking its way in.
Pete’s nerves went ice-cold with fear and anger.
Kill it, his cave bear roared. Protect our mate!
Bang! An entire log fell away, pecked through at both ends and pried out of the wall by those huge claws.
Tirzah tugged at his arm, pointing to the trap door: should we go down?
Pete forced himself to stop and think before leaping into action. If they went back down, he could fend off the pteranodon as a cave bear, as it was too big to evade him within the house. But Gorlois could easily turn back into a man and shoot him—or worse, shoot Tirzah. But if they stayed in the attic…
Another log fell out of the wall. Five more minutes, and the entire attic would be open to the sky.
Pete turned to Tirzah and shook his head. Putting his mouth up against her ear, he whispered, “Wait. Once he breaks a big enough hole in the attic and sticks his head in, I’ll become a bear and break his skinny neck.”
It was a terrifying gamble to take. He’d have just one shot to evade the pteranodon’s beak, and he already knew the creature was faster than he was—and that was before he’d been wounded.
Another log fell away.
Pete jerked his thumb at the corner of the attic, the farthest from where the pteranodon was steadily pecking through the wall. Tirzah pressed a kiss on his mouth, then scooted into the corner and huddled there, where she’d be out of the way of the bear.
The heat of her lips lingered on his, long after she was gone. She didn’t know it, but it was almost certainly the last kiss they’d ever share.
The systematic way Gorlois was going about breaking through the wall made Pete certain that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to just stick his head in. No, he’d wait till enough of the wall was gone that he could get his whole body in. Then he could use both beak and claws, or sweep them out with his great wings. And Pete wasn’t strong enough yet for a real fight. He could make one move, and then he’d collapse. So he had to make that one move count.
His sole advantage was the cave bear’s massive weight. If he leaped at the pteranodon, his momentum would knock them both right through the hole in the wall. If Pete grabbed the beast and hung on, they’d crash into the ground together. The fall would most likely kill them both. But at the very least, it would break the pteranodon’s wings. And then Tirzah would have a chance to escape.
The hole in the wall was now big enough for him to see his monstrous enemy crouching in it, blocking almost all of the night sky. One more log, and Gorlois would make his move; one more log, and Pete would too.
The last log fell away. Pete readied himself to shift.
A voice he’d thought he’d never hear again broke the tense silence. “Get away from my dad, you thing!”
“Caro!?” Pete called incredulously.
He was answered with, of all unlikely sounds, a fierce neigh. And then the flapping of wings, and a sharp thud like a baseball bat whacking a slab of meat.
The pteranodon screeched and jerked like it had been goosed. Then, hissing, it launched itself backward out of the huge hole in the wall.
Through the hole, which was more like a missing wall, he saw the star-spangled night sky and a full moon. Between the moon and stars, he could
see almost as easily as if it was day.
His daughter Caro was in the sky, riding a white horse with feathered wings. Batcat clung to her shoulder for dear life. Her long black hair streamed behind her as the flying horse swooped and dove, harrying the pteranodon with fierce kicks and bites. It was far smaller than the dinosaur, but also far, far faster, easily evading its beak and claws. Its hooves struck the beast again and again, making it screech in pain and rage.
The gargoyle circled around the fight, apparently too nervous of getting within range of the hooves to do anything.
Pete could do nothing but sit and stare, torn between astonishment, fear for his daughter, and pride in her. He had no idea how she’d found him or where the winged horse had come from, but she was clearly in her element, fearlessly riding her flying steed to his defense.
Tirzah came up beside him. “What the…?”
Pete shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
He again looked around the attic for some weapon, and again found none. But there was no need. Urged on by Caro, the flying horse arrowed in and kicked the pteranodon right in the side of its hideous face. With an anguished shriek, the flying monster turned and fled, its leathery wings flapping with all its might. The gargoyle followed after. A moment later, both had vanished from view.
Batcat left Caro’s shoulder and flew to Tirzah’s. She pushed her face into Tirzah’s neck and purred loudly. The horse flew up to the attic and hovered. Pete and Tirzah scrambled aside to give it room. It landed with a sharp click of its hooves against the floor.
Caro slid off its back and threw herself into Pete’s arms. He held her as tight as he ever had in his life. She was the infant he’d held in his hands and couldn’t give up, the toddler he’d swung over his head while she’d laughed with glee, the child he’d read to at bedtime, and the tempestuous, brave, stubborn, whip-smart teenager she was now. She was all of them at once in his eyes, the daughter he loved more than life itself.
