With his sandy-blond hair, chiseled features and a lot of neck and shoulders, a perma-grin and a husky voice that seemed to let the words out at a leisurely pace, Luca reminded me of jolly warrior. I pictured their relationship, their happy family, and I could see why Ginelle had fallen in love with Luca; they made such a perfect couple.
Vyn called out while he strolled from the foyer area in his lab coat, “Well, it looks like we’re ready—” He stopped when he noticed the full living room, and stood under the entrance archway, wiping his hands on a rag he was holding.
“Ready for what, Vyn?” Dad questioned, looking over the couch-back.
“Yeah, we’re ready for testing the cells. I injected a sample into a mouse and it—”
“You did what!” I yelped.
“Let him talk, Ellie,” said Dad.
“I didn’t hurt him,” Vyn responded to me.
“You better not have,” Ginelle chimed in.
After a moment of silence, Dad asked, “Vyn, have you met Ginelle and Luca?”
“You mean the crazy cheerleader.”
“Vyn!” said Mom.
“No, no,” Luca spoke up, “he’s right, he must’ve met her.” Eyes on Ginelle. “You did your introduction thing, didn’t you?”
Ginelle flashed Vyn a little grin, and winked. “Gotcha, didn’t I?”
Vyn’s lip curled up into some sort of smirk.
“Sorry about that, Vyn,” Luca said. “So, what were you saying, your experiments?”
“Yeah, the mouse. As I said, I injected a sample, and the strangest thing happened. I waited a while, observing, and it seemed to grow what appeared to be wings, but not solid wings. More transparent, almost like a hummingbird, or faerie. They began to glow with light, and, well, the mouse lifted off the table and hovered a few inches above. It didn’t last but a few minutes before the injection wore off and the wings disappeared. I examined the mouse afterward, no harm done. Yet, it wouldn’t eat its food anymore, until I injected a berry. It couldn’t get enough of those.”
“So, flying mice,” Dad said. “No offense, Vyn, but, what’s this got to do with us?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting something to grow wings. That’s not what I had in mind. The bioluminescence worked, though. But, until I figure out how to bind it into a regenerative state, it will be a temporary flight. In other words, we’ll have to carry backup syringes on us. With a full dose, based on the body weight of the individual angel, I’m guessing about an hour flight time before a second injection will be needed.”
Dad scooched to the edge of the couch, Luca to the edge of his chair, and Jaydenn began to bob a pursed-lip nod in the loveseat, his arm still around Angie.
“But it works, though,” Dad said, energy building. “That’s what you’re saying.”
Vyn began to wipe his hand on the towel again, more out of habit, watchful eyes observing him. “Yes, it does. It works.” A smile tugged at the corners of Vyn’s mouth, cute little Vyn dimples that just tickled me. Smile lines around his eyes. He was proud, and so was I.
But I could not stop thinking of the flying mouse.
Vyn added, “I know the mouse doesn’t mean much to you, but, here’s the thing. He won’t eat anything but those berries anymore. The mouse developed an addiction. Do you realize what that means?”
Everyone searched inside for a clue …
Dad rose from the couch, marched over to Vyn, and dropped a hand on Vyn’s shoulder. “You, son, are an absolute genius.” He spun around to view the room. “This is what he’s getting at, if I’m not mistaken. Don’t you see, the mouse is now addicted to those berries. Dreks and hunters are carnivores, they—”
Luca pushed sharply from his chair and his football voice boomed, “It’s a flappin biological weapon!”
They’re not going to start chanting again are they?
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Vyn said. “There are too many variables and it could be temporary. I’m still monitoring, but, yes, that’s what it looks like as of right now. I don’t know what it would do to a hunter, and I don’t think we should take the chance of shooting them with it just yet. We don’t want them flying around in the daytime. And the dreks, well, they’re not biological forms so I assume injecting them would be impossible, can’t inject a spirit. Like I said, I don’t have any idea how that would work. All I do know is … We can fly at night.”
Jaydenn shook his head and chuckled. “You mean to tell me, it’s possible that a vegetarian flying mouse might save the world. Un-flappin believable.”
Steffunnie called out in her little voice, “I wanna see the flying mouse!” She hopped up and skipped across the room to Ginelle. “Can I see the flying mouse, Mommy?”
Ginelle swiveled eyes to Vyn … Vyn gave her a smile. “I’ll be doing another experiment tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning, okay?” Ginelle said to Steff.
“Yay!” Steff began to hop, clapping her hands together. “A flying mouse, a flying mouse.” She stopped, held excited eyes on Ginelle. “Is it gonna be morning soon?”
“Be patient, Steff.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Go read your book, okay, sweetie.”
“Okay.” Steff skipped back to the chaise, hopped up and spun around with a book on her lap. She began to read, “Once there was a flying mouse, and his name was, um”—a little head tilt—“Tinkle.” Sitting on his haunches before the chaise, Bub let out a little wuff of agreement.
It seemed whenever Steff talked, she became the center of attention. Everyone fell silent, entranced, just watched her. I had never seen anything so cute in my entire life, so magnetic and polite. And Ginelle was such a good mother. Someday, maybe I would be so lucky.
Mom smiled at me from the couch. She knew what I was thinking; or she was thinking about grandchildren, one in the same, I guessed, as I obliged her with a mutual-thought smile.
Dad sat back with Mom. The discussions went around for a while. I waited for a lull before I asked, “Dad, me and Angie are going out there Monday, right?”
“You think you’re ready?”
“Yeah. I wanna get started.”
“Angie?” Dad questioned.
“Yeah, she’s right. I think it’s time.”
“Okay girls, but here’s the deal. I want you to practice different angles. Shoot from the balcony. Shoot from the porch deck and top of the barn. Shoot while you’re flying, from every angle, even crouched on your knees. You should probably wear those new jeans you have for more protection. And remember, the first shot you take will be hard. We call it the fever. Your mind will want to shoot but your hand won’t let go. You might start shaking. Don’t worry about aiming when you get your first shot, just let go and get your second arrow ready.”
The reality of the situation started to become clear. We were really going to do this. It would be a busy weekend.
“And one more thing girls,” Dad added. “I don’t want you hunting back behind the house. We’ve seen dreks back there in the forest, but we’ll take care of them.”
“But, aren’t we—” Angie started to say, Dad cut her off.
“No hunting behind the house, that’s final.” His tone drove the point into us.
With a couple of nods, Angie and I both agreed to the terms. Mom was smiling for some unknown reason. Didn’t she realize we were about to go out there, in the wild? Parents are so confusing. Mom seemed happy. I had no idea what the flap she was thinking. Whatever.
CHAPTER 22
“Look, Elle!” Steff’s voice came from below. Angie and I were taking a break from shooting off the balcony. “This is Tinkle, isn’t he cute?”
A tiny mouse with humming bird wings buzzed up and hovered over the balcony.
“What the—?” I said.
Angie and I exchanged looks, then at, Tinkle, I assumed.
“It is kinda cute, isn’t it, Ang?”
“Yeah, it sure is.”
“Tinkle,” Steff
called out, “come down here now.”
Tinkle looked around, twitching its whiskers, and floated back down to Steff.
“It listens to her?” I asked Angie.
“I guess. Look at Steff, though. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, good point.”
“Steff,” I called down to her, “don’t go too far now, okay.”
“I know. Mommy’s right here.”
As I leaned over the balcony, Ginelle was looking up at me from the ground as she said, “Vyn made it so the mouse could fly permanently.” She crinkled her face up. “Looks like we have a new pet.”
“How’d he do that?” I asked.
“He injected the food, blueberries.”
“Yeah.” Steff lifted a little plastic bag. “See, Elle, Tinkle likes blueberries.”
“Well that’s nice, Steff.”
Steff eyed the bag. “I like blueberries too, but I can’t eat any of these.”
“No, don’t do that,” I said.
“Okay, Steff,” said Ginelle. “Let the girls practice now.”
“K, see you later, Elle. Bye, Angie.”
“Bye-bye, Steff,” I replied.
“Bye, Steff,” Angie included.
The house door tapped closed.
“I have to get me one of those.”
Angie cocked an eyebrow. “A flying mouse, really?”
“No, a Steff.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”
“You can have one before I can.”
“Well, Jaydenn and I have been talking. Maybe when this is over.”
“That’s great, Ang. You’d make an awesome mother, and I’d be Aunt Ellie. I’d spoil the flap outta her. You know that, right?”
“How do you know it would be a her?”
A sharp gasp, then my reply, “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
Angie grinned. “We’ll, I guess we’ll just have to see then.”
We’d been out on the balcony for about an hour or so. The honeyed smell of Mom’s flowers from the flower boxes on the side railings lingered on the air. Earlier this morning, Angie and I were up and ready with the sun, dressed in our jeans and long-sleeved cotton T’s to keep the chilly air out. Our shooting was improving, most of the arrows hitting the bales, not exactly perfect, but whatever.
Just after the donut truck arrived and made its way back to the boys, male sounds filled the distant forest, whooping laughter and bellows. So much excitement, over pastry? Dad had once called it “the warriors’ breakfast.” Okay, I guess, males are so weird. It’s not like it’s wedding cake, then I could understand.
“How ya doin’ out here, girls?” Mom said from behind us, drawing our attention as she stepped through the french doorway in her blue-flowered dress. She swayed over to us with a plate of pastries. “I thought you might need a snack. That nice donut guy gave us some raspberry danishes.”
Oh, yummy. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, taking the plate from her. As Angie thanked Mom also, I leaned my bow against the railing, and picked out a treasure.
Mom was eyeing my bow as the heavenly pastry melted on my tongue. “That sure is a pretty bow, huh. Mind if I try?” She crouched down, stood up with the bow in her hand. “How do you do this?”
Angie let out a little snicker as she took the plate from me. She picked out a pastry and bit into it, said while chewing, “Well, Mom, you take the arrow, put it on the string, pull back, aim and let go.”
“Hmm”—Mom tilted her head—“that sounds easy enough.”
Yeah, okay Mom. This could be interesting. I hoped the squirrels and chipmunks were ready. Mom, the swaying angel goddess, shooting a bow … I stepped back.
Mom picked up the quiver. “This goes over my shoulder, right?”
“Yep,” I replied, took another bite.
Angie did a little eye roll; I wasn’t sure whether it was for the pastry, or Mom.
After slipping the quiver over her shoulder, Mom eyed down off the balcony. “That’s the thing we have to hit, right? Those bales down there?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed and nodded with a mouthful of raspberry.
Mom raked some hair behind her ear, then lifted the bow and nocked an arrow. With her fingers on the string, she breathed in, pulled back and let it fly. Almost instantly, her arm began to zip back rapid-fire, pulling arrows out of the quiver so fast I couldn’t keep up while her long hair flipped with the motions … The flurry of energy finally subsided, only because the quiver was empty … I swallowed, and looked down at the target.
The flappin drek had arrow eyes and a feathered smile!
“Oh, would you look at that,” said Mom, leaning over the balcony with a squint. She tucked some hair behind her ear and added, “The drek’s happy.”
When I looked at Angie, she seemed frozen in mid-chew, wide eyes, pastry flakes and jelly all around her mouth. Her tongue slipped out and hooked some in.
Mom spun around, graceful and calm. She set the quiver down. Handed me the bow, picked the pastry out of my hand and took a dainty nibble off a corner. Then said with a sly little grin, “It’s all in the eyes, dear.” Pause. “Close your mouth, Ellie, I can see your danish.” After giving back my pastry, Mom lifted a delicate hand, looked at her fingers and clicked her tongue. “Oh, shoot. I broke a nail. Well, I guess I should go fix it. I wanted to try out that new raspberry color anyway.” Two long-legged steps to the door before she stopped, and stood looking through the thin lace drapes into her bedroom as she said over her shoulder, “Well, have fun, girls.” Giggle. She parted the drapes, stepped into the bedroom.
“Um, Angie, what just happened?”
“Well, I guess we just got schooled. Guess we shouldn’t mess with Mom, huh?”
“Yeah, no kidding. I feel, so, so …”
“Yeah, me too. We should get back to practice.”
****
With a knee down on the straw-covered ground, I eased another arrow out of the smiley face. A squirrel hopped onto a pine branch above, looked at us, and chirped some kind of sound while flipping its furry tail, chiek chiek. I could’ve sworn it scolded us. “That’s not nice,” I said to it … It chirped again, scurried across the branch and up the tree.
Male bellows were echoing through the forest, birds darting through the pines. It sounded like the males were playing football or something. Playing! That’s not fair. Then the sounds turned to metal against metal clanging; wood against wood clapping; and males grunting and growling through the woods. They must be practicing. That’s better.
Most of the day was gone. Sore arms, tired minds, we stepped off the dirt up onto the porch deck. Must’ve been two hours before dusk, I guessed, five thirty maybe. After hanging my bow on the bow rack Dad had mounted on the log house wall, I flopped flat down into a deck chair, rested back on my wings and slid into a slouch, then stretched my jeaned legs out before me. Angie did the same. The thought of Mom and the previous lesson up on the balcony came to mind. It was motivation, and it was sneaky. But it worked. She knew how to motivate us, and our target practice was honing razor sharp.
I filled my cheeks with air, blew it out. “That was quite a day, huh, Ang?”
“Sheesh, I guess, yeah. I need a drink. And not one of those iced teas either. I need to get into Dad’s stash.”
“You don’t drink that stuff, do you? It’s nasty, and that beer tastes like pine needles.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Males must have different taste buds or something.”
At the sound of the door opening, I swiveled my head to see Mom holding two tall glasses of tea, lemon slices floating in ice. Was she psychic or something? She pranced over, handed one to each of us. Angie and I sat up and drank, and drank, and drank. After a gasp, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks, Mom. I really needed that.”
“Yeah, thanks, Mom.”
“I know you did, girls, you’re welcome. You girls had a hard day. Just relax now.”
“That’s what I’m planning,” I s
aid.
“You should take a bubble bath tonight, Ellie, and you too, Ang. I picked up this lovely cherry bubble bath from Angel’s Closet.”
“Yeah, I think I will,” I said.
That idea vaulted to the top of my list of evening self-pampering chores. Thoughts of the tub came to mind; deep and roomy white porcelain. I could almost swim in the thing. Yes, a damp rag over my eyes while I put the day behind, such a yummy plan.
“Okay, I’ll leave you girls alone. Don’t be out here too late, please.”
“We won’t. Thanks, Mom,” I said, and settled back into my chair again as Mom went into the house. “That bath sounded nice, huh, sis?”
“Yeah, if I have to I’ll fight you for it.” She flattened out on the chair again, folded her hands on her belly, and tilted chin to chest while her eyes slid shut.
My vision floated around. I sighed. The wooden wind chimes hung still and silent. A fresh scent of flowers lingered on the air. Mom must’ve watered the hanging flower baskets—little blue flower petals and hanging vines with beads of moisture, a drip to the porch deck now and then. An occasional bird would send a few musical notes through the forest. Burly team members were lifting off and flying away over the trees, off the mountain toward the city.
“We’re gonna have to replace that bale tomorrow,” I said. “It’s pretty tore up.”
Angie moaned in reply.
A sparrow winged from the forest and landed on the edge of the barn roof.
“Dad was right about wearing jeans, huh?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
She was nodding off so I kept to myself. Long thoughts pulled me into relaxation as I picked out shapes in the clouds: A deer. A butterfly. My vision eventually wandered toward the back forest … Something moved in the shadows of the tree line.
“Ang?” I turned to look at her.
“Hmm.”
“I’m going to the backyard. You wanna go with me?”
She groaned. “I’m not shooting again until tomorrow.”
Wings of Boden Page 17
