by Jody Klaire
It was? I looked at the door and back to her.
Huh?
Her brow dropped into its usual scowl. “Now move ’cause I got customers to feed.”
I relaxed. I knew that tone. I understood that tone. I picked up the box and hurried out. “Somebody explain before I walk on back to Serenity.”
Renee chuckled, slowing me with her free hand. “Lilia told everyone you were in the FBI.”
I nodded. “But CIG ain’t technically—”
“FBI.” She glared up at me.
I sighed. “Right. Well . . . how’d that make her . . . nice?”
Renee shook her head like I was being dumb but I knew Mrs. Stein and she was no smiler . . . ever.
“You saved the town from Sam. You’re a hero and Lilia is back home.” She smiled. “Mrs. Stein adores her.”
“Who doesn’t?” My tone was as tight as I felt. I’d been released and come back home, what did I get? A twister, hostility, and a serial killer. My mother strolled on in and everybody was all smiles. “Guess the FBI does mail runs?”
Renee stopped me in the middle of the road. “It’s all of you, your family, together you’ve helped Oppidum to get back on its feet.”
I weren’t buying it. Mrs. Stein had been as sour after Sam had been arrested. I held open the door to Darcy’s. Funny, ’cause I hadn’t officially ever been allowed in. Back when it was Mrs. Casey’s, she’d come out sometimes but I never got to walk right on in before.
It was a lot smaller than I’d expected. Neat and tidy with a large section for Welsh produce. Welsh cakes that had come from Mrs. Stein, lamb delicacies, lots of long names with no vowels and . . . I smiled, beaming down at one pack, an old favorite of Nan’s, Bara Brith. Renee picked it up, seeing my expression, and placed it on the counter.
She spotted something off to the side and her aura fired a lightshow. “They have phrasebooks.” She picked up a shiny covered one. The bouquet Mrs. Stein had given her nested in the crook of her arm. “I might get one.”
“Because you never know when we’ll need to interrogate rogue Welsh speakers, huh?” I shook my head. I was pretty sure there were only a few in Oppidum. I wasn’t sure if they were speaking real Welsh or just making stuff up.
“I’m a linguist. I enjoy a challenge.” She flicked through the pages. “I find connections between languages I can already speak and it highlights how the language was formed and developed and the migration of people . . .” She met my eyes and sighed. “And . . . I’m a nerd.”
I cocked my head, too busy enjoying the way her aura crackled and sparked and fizzed with her enthusiasm.
“Modern Welsh is mainly Northern, I think.” I shrugged when she stared at me. “It was made illegal for folks there to speak it a while back and it got lost a bit.”
“Because of the riots.” Her eyes twinkled with delight. “You know about that?”
“From school.” I shrugged, not knowing if I should look at her or attempt to hide the blush burning up my cheeks. “We had to do Welsh and American history before we went to high school.” I eyed the book. I remembered how one of the older teachers had been a fierce looking woman. She’d only ever speak in Welsh. I learned fast what words meant I was in trouble . . . again.
“You did?” She wandered over to the counter and placed the book down, smiling at Mr. Toughton as he came out from the back. He’d been in a wheelchair the last time I’d seen him but, although he was walking with a careful step, he looked a lot better.
“Mrs. Stein got me delivering her goods,” I said, trying not to let the wryness show in my voice too much. “Guess she trusts me not to steal them.”
Mr. Toughton chuckled. “She’s a lot different these days.” He leaned in. “Some folks are saying it’s Mr. Jenkins, deputy Jenkins’s father.” He perched on the edge of a stool and laughed, his smile wrinkled up his face. “Nothing like love to get you smiling.”
I didn’t ever want to think about Mrs. Stein in love. Oh no. She was mean and miserable and . . . mean. I shuddered. Why was everyone so laid back about her changing anyhow? Maybe she was having side-effects to her medication or she needed more medication, or maybe therapy or—
Renee lowered my arm so I placed the box on the counter. “I think it’s freaked her out.”
Mr. Toughton laughed again. “Guess for us it’s been kinda gradual.” He tapped the box. “It’s also great that she makes his favorite jam.” He shook his head, lifting out a pot of jelly. “Can you believe it, it’s called jam over there.”
“If you asked for jelly, you’d get a shock,” Renee said with a smile, placing her money on the counter. “Jell-O.”
I scrunched up my face. “So jelly sandwiches?”
“Are jam sandwiches.” She blew out a long breath. “You don’t make that mistake twice.”
Mr. Toughton bellowed out his laughter. Renee chuckled with him. I glanced at the Welsh cakes on the stand. They said jam. Mrs. Stein had always sold Jell-O ones. I smiled at that. Although Jell-O sandwiches didn’t sound all that bad. At least it wasn’t Marmite. Iris, my first stepmother, had loved Marmite. Didn’t know where she picked that up. She’d never been further than Kentucky.
“Did you learn any Welsh in school?” Renee asked as we left Mr. Toughton chuckling and headed toward the fish and chip shop.
“Nothin’ polite.” I took the bag with our goodies from Darcy’s off her and she fished out the book. “For some reason the only words that stuck were cuss words and yelling.”
She thumbed through the pages, the flowers listed like they’d drop. “You were a child. It’s part of the development.” I took the flowers off her as her focus zoned in on the book. “I can imagine a baby you saying Prynhawn da.”
Said “Prin-hown dah,” she’d got the accent, the intonation, and pronunciation right first time. I held her elbow to steer her around the pretty lampposts.
“How’d you get all that from the book?” I had memories of saying it as a class after lunch. Why we had to say good afternoon to a teacher I didn’t get. They were always sour faced so what was good about spending time with them? “Next you’ll be asking me sut wyt ti heddiw.”
The book fell limp in her hands as she peered up at me. I was pretty sure she was planning an ambush bear hug. “Da iawn, diolch.” She grinned a lop-sided grin. “You have the accent.”
I held my finger up. “Not if the teachers in school were right. They were always tellin’ me I got it wrong.”
“You have a southern accent and speech according to this,” she said, holding up some table full of words that made no sense. “Northern is more guttural.”
“How’d you get that from . . .?” I waved my hand at the pages, making the flowers rustle and the bag smack my thigh. “That?”
“It sounded perfect to me.” She sniffed at the flowers, ignoring me wrinkling up my nose. “Your mother will love these.”
Whatever they were, they stunk. “How come Mrs. Stein is buying her flowers?”
“Maybe it’s her birthday?” Renee bit her lip. “She never talked a lot about personal things.”
She still knew my mother a lot more than I did. “Am I supposed to get her somethin’?” I didn’t know what she liked. I eyed the rose bushes on the corner by the oak tree but Renee bumped my hip.
“I’m sure your father is covering it.”
“Right.” What did she need anything from me anyhow? Wasn’t like I knew her. “Dwi’n hoffi pysgod.”
Said like “dween hoff-ee puss cod.” You had to sound real sing-song when you said it or it just sounded crazy.
Renee’s eyebrows shot up.
“I said I like fish.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “At least I think I did.” I shrugged. “I know bwrw glaw too.”
That was a fun one to say. You had to pucker out your lips for it. “Boo-roo gla-ow.” I chuckled. It always tickled me. She stared at me like I’d performed complex equations.
“It means raining . . . I forget the first bit.”
Renee held open the door to the shop and I chuckled at the awe in her eyes.
“If you’re that easily impressed, wait ’til I tell you about the Mabinogion.” It was a book of folk tales about Wales but it sounded kinda fancy.
Her focus stayed with me even as the food aroma tickled my nostrils. “You call me mysterious.”
“I grew up here. It ain’t mysterious.” I smiled at Jolene who watched Renee’s admiration with a grin on her face. “Don’t suppose my mother and sisters got favorites to go too?”
She grinned wider. “I’ll get right on it. Chief Lorelei’s special too?”
I nodded and Renee bumped my hip. “Goof.”
“You recommend anything for me?” I stared up at the lists of food on the board above, my stomach wanted me to try all of it.
“Can we have the Prop Forward special for this one?” She chuckled as she said it. Jolene eyed me and nodded with enthusiasm. “You’ll love it.”
“Good thing you know me better than anybody else, huh?”
Renee stroked her thumb over my forearm and placed her book on the countertop. “You don’t think anyone else does?”
I leaned on the counter, getting a blast of the smelly flowers. “No paying, my turn.” I sighed, trying to figure out how to get my wallet out without the flowers getting deep fried. “For a start, I wouldn’t know what I was allowed to say anymore.”
Renee rummaged around in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. “The wonder of working with the team.”
I smiled down at her. “Worth it for you.”
She met my eyes in shock, then they softened and she bumped my hip, placing the extra she knew I’d put in the charity box down. “Dimwit.” She put my wallet away and leaned her head against my shoulder, letting out a long wistful sigh.
No doubt it was for the cartons of food heading our way. Guess it was some cuisine.
Chapter 6
BAM.
Next to point blank.
Rust. Damp. Dripping water.
No time to hide her now.
“Run!” Got to stop them catching her.
Bam.
Close. Too close.
Bam.
Flash.
Bam.
Flash.
Recoil.
“I don’t want to—”
Bam. Bam.
Window. Cracked. Air. Jagged glass. “Jessie, go. Run.”
Bam.
Ping.
Dust. No. It’ll get in her lungs.
“I’m not leaving—”
Smack.
I snapped open my eyes, not caring that I’d head butted the floor. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but lie there. Dark. I couldn’t see.
“Aeron?” Renee whispered from the bed, her voice groggy with sleep. Not surprised, we’d eaten enough to feed half of Wales. My parents and sisters had been thrilled. My mother had been delighted with the flowers too even though I didn’t know what they were for.
Maybe the happy drowsy glow had made it hard to feel my legs? I tried to move. My body fizzed like bees had used me for target practice. My breaths were harsh and sharp in my ears. Just a dream? A nightmare? I hoped so.
“Aeron?” Renee’s footfalls were soft as she hurried over. “What are you . . . are you okay?”
She rolled me over. I felt a whoosh of relief as she broke the hold the flash had on me.
“Frei.” I threw myself upward, stumbling, knocking her off balance as I staggered for the bedroom door.
No moon.
It was dark because there was no moon out tonight.
At least I—she, Frei—could see.
“Aeron, what’s happened? What did you see?” Her panic filled her whisper as she guided me through the doorway. I heard her intake of breath at the lingering pain from my flash. Her panic rippled from her. She still didn’t believe what she was feeling was real.
She’d wake Louise at the very least. Louise, the youngest at six years going on sixty, could sense. Not like my mother or I but she would still feel the panic. After Sam, I didn’t want them being scared.
I stopped and turned to Renee. “I need to speak to Lilia. Frei and Jessie . . . they’re in trouble. Some kind of trouble.”
She frowned at me. “Aeron, that’s impossible. Jessie wouldn’t be anywhere but the CIG base. Maybe it’s just a dream?”
If only, I took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “Do you dream in German?”
“At times, yes.” She dragged me back toward my room. “Let’s go back to sleep. We can ask in the morning.”
I tugged her with me down the two flights of stairs to the third floor. “You’re different. You can speak a load of languages. I can just about ask where the bank is.”
Renee padded along behind my louder footsteps. I hoped I didn’t wake my sisters up. I couldn’t sneak for Jell-O.
“You’re learning German?” was all Renee could come up with. I could hear a load of other questions buzzing around her and that had been the least emotionally charged. I guessed it was her way of keeping calm.
“I thought it’d be nice to throw a witty retort back at Frei in her own language.” I was trying to hold onto what I’d seen. Memorize the detail. Frei in trouble. Who would have both her and Jessie? What were they doing outside the CIG base?
I shrugged at the glow of pride creeping up from Renee’s touch. My cheeks were burning again. I focused on creeping, loudly, across the landing.
A shaft of light split across the second floor below us. My mother came out of her room in her dressing gown and looked up at us.
“She’s seen it too,” I whispered.
“I was worried you’d say that,” Renee muttered from behind me.
My mother nodded to me as we headed down the steps to her. “Your father sleeps through most things but the girls hear everything. We’ll head to the kitchen.”
“Won’t they hear us?” Renee asked, peering back up the stairs.
My mother shook her head. “They are used to me puttering in the kitchen at night.” She smiled at me. “You’re lucky that you’re like your father.”
I heard the snoring from their room and Renee sniggered behind me. “A lot like him.”
“Hey.”
Before I could poke Renee, my mother led us downstairs and into the kitchen. She flicked on the lamp instead of the overhead light. She turned and examined Renee for a moment. “You’ll need something.”
Renee shook her head, pulling down her favorite football jersey. I didn’t know why, the thing was twice her size. In fact, I was pretty sure it would have fitted me.
“Whiskey,” my mother said and walked over to my father’s liquor cabinet. She opened it up and dropped ice cubes in a glass.
Renee slumped down onto one of the chairs at the breakfast table. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No.” My mother’s bluntness didn’t help my nerves much either. She turned to me, her eyes focused and intense. “What did you get?”
I shivered. I tried to keep it straight in my mind. “Cold, damp, rust . . . There was gunfire or something. Frei said or thought or . . .” I rubbed the back of my neck. My clammy hands were nothing to the damp perspiration dribbling from my hairline. “Jessie was there. She told her to run but Jessie wouldn’t leave.” I shook my head. Dumb kid. Typical of the hero she was. “There was a smashed window, I think, then more gunfire and I couldn’t move.”
My mother smiled a soft smile. “You look like your father when you frown.”
She was trying to distract me and we both knew it. “Spill it.”
Renee tensed at my tone. I glanced a smile at her. “She may be your boss but she’s my delinquent mother.”
Delinquent, absent, neglectful, meddling and she wasn’t wriggling out of this one. I fixed her with my best glare. “No twisting, no leaving stuff out. I want the truth.”
My mother smiled at me again.
“And quit saying I look like dad or I’ll just touch you and find out for myse
lf.”
She sighed. “Now that’s more like me.” She stared down at her manicured nails. “They were sneaking in. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Jessie slipped. Something clattered to the ground below. There was gunfire. A window and Ursula was Tasered.”
Explained the not moving.
“She hurt?” Renee asked, hugging herself.
My mother shook her head. “I don’t think so but I can’t be sure. I couldn’t tell if she was shooting back either.”
“Any idea where she was?” Renee looked at my mother then me. We both shook our heads. “What about the window, what did it look like?”
I shrugged. “Smashed.”
Renee frowned. “Wooden, metal, or plastic framed?”
“Wooden,” my mother said, wrapping her dressing gown around her tighter. “There were some splintered parts.”
“Frosted?” Renee asked.
I rubbed my shaking hand over my chin. “It was dirty. Some kind of weird light was shining beyond it.” I bit my lip, trying and failing to find my way back to what I’d seen. I couldn’t concentrate.
“It changed color. Green . . . perhaps yellow.” My mother went to the kettle and drew some hot chocolate in two mugs.
“The floor?” Renee didn’t touch her whiskey. She was hunched over the table. I half expected her to start drawing a map.
“Wet. Puddles of something that smelled funny. Dripping water?” I couldn’t figure out what the smell was.
“I can’t identify the stench either but it was strong.” My mother came over and placed a mug in front of me.
“River water.”
Both looked at me but I nodded. “A port of some kind was in the distance. I could hear the river.”
“How can you be sure it’s a river?” Renee asked. She was all agent. The intensity in her eyes gave me goosebumps.
“I feel . . . different . . . around rivers.” I shrugged. “They make me feel . . . restored.”
My mother leaned on her fist with a dreamy smile.
“What? Dad the same?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just nice to hear you talk about your feelings.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. I tried ignoring the warm fuzzy feeling it provoked. Lilia sucked. She sucked. She made everybody happy.
