Practice throwing up the sash with speed and facility. Deliberation might allow them to grab the soul from you.
Jocelyn Wynn
With Juliet weighing heavily on my mind, I was unable to walk calmly down the path toward Dunklebarger; I kept breaking into a jog. The birds seemed to sense my urgency because they took up the call. Ahead of and behind me in the woods, there were calls and chatter, from Canada geese honking to woodpeckers knocking staccato rhythms on tree trunks. The sun sank low behind the trees and the tilted, crazy feeling crawling in my stomach thrashed my insides.
Suddenly, Minerva pounced from behind a log, into the middle of my path, startling me to a stop. “Crap!” I leaned over, winded, to catch my breath. “Uh, sorry? I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Last thing I needed to do was piss off a creature connected to the Creators. The way things were going I didn’t think getting struck by lightning for swearing was out of the question.
Minerva narrowed her golden eyes at me, almost willing me into a game of chicken. She twitched her tail in a dance that screamed volumes of displeasure. Then she meowed demandingly and stalked toward me.
I held my ground. Not because I felt the need to win chicken with a cat, but because I wasn’t sure how best to approach the situation. She was a Fenestra creature, but I still didn’t know if that meant she liked me or took exception to my oxygen consumption. I leaned toward the latter. Cats unnerved me with their lack of facial expression.
Standing at my feet, Minerva took a long, detailed look up my frame. Placed one set of front claws on my shin, then the second, inverting her spine and stretching in a yoga pose. The tug in my jeans was enough to tell me that, intended or not, she could very well shred my legs. She began purring like an engine revving and again meowed up at me, as if asking for … I had no idea what.
I reached down slowly, feeling as if I were about to pet a cobra. I ran my fingers lightly against the downy fluff along her cheeks. I’d once held a chinchilla that was our fifth-grade mascot. Petting Minerva’s fur was like petting that animal. Only Minerva didn’t fall over dead. I waited for a download like Tens had received while touching her. Nothing.
“Juliet’s mom. That’s who’s been trying to talk to me with Auntie. She loved her. Was she a Fenestra too? Can you tell me?” I scratched under the cat’s chin and the volume of her purring increased, but I didn’t get the freeze like Tens did. No knowledge from on high came surging at me. “How come it worked for him and not me?” I asked.
The cat turned away from me, flicked her tail in invitation. She ran in a comical gait, a hybrid of a bunny hop and a horse’s trot, before stopping and calling back to me in that overpowering meow. I swore I saw her nod in the direction of Dunklebarger as if to tell me we were late. I am so losing my mind.
“Lead the way.” I followed, this time staying in the woods, parallel to the path.
As we neared the last bend, I tripped, sprawling into the leaves and mud behind a fallen tree. “What the—” I broke off, spitting out hair as Minerva seemed to deliberately stuff her whole tail in my mouth.
That was when I heard the voices. I quieted as the cat stood on my chest and pointedly stared at me until I nodded. We were hiding. The low rumble of a man speaking and the clipped tones of a woman giving orders drifted over to us. My first thought was Tens and Juliet were meeting in secret, but that was jealousy listening, not my brain.
The woman harangued, “I knew I’d find you skulking about here. What if she sees you? It’s not time yet.”
“I wanted to see her, how she’s changed, before …,” a young man answered in a petulant whine.
“I didn’t authorize this. It makes no difference whether you still want her, Kirian.”
“Can’t we just tell her the truth?” He sounded like Sammy when he was told to take a bath and go to bed. Not an attractive voice for any age.
I held my breath, listening, trying to make sense of who these two people were. My little arm-hair warning system was on high alert. Nocti, maybe?
A stinging slap echoed. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion. When I want it, I’ll tell you what it is. Clear?” The woman’s tone was icy and completely in command.
“Yes, ma’am.” He sounded defeated.
“Good. Now, you must convince her to leave with you. That you’ll be together, visit Paris in April. Take her flowers. Seduce her. Be her Romeo.” He must have nodded, because the woman continued. “Good boy. I knew you’d be my perfect boy.”
My inner alarm shrieked at me. Fight or flight kicked into high gear. I’d only felt this once before, with Perimo. Nocti?
I heard the sounds of kissing. The suck and smooch, gasping breath, moans of pleasure. I angled my head to peer under a curve of the tree, between the earth and the wood. Only a slit, really, but if I found the right angle I might be able to see them. Bingo. The woman was in steep stiletto heels, a tight pencil skirt, and yellow leather jacket, with black hair twisted in an elegant, complicated updo. She was a foot shorter than the boy, but she still somehow managed to tower over him. He might have been cute, but the red lipstick smeared on his lips matched a bright handprint on his cheek. Sandy blond hair, all-American-quarterback look, like someone in an Abercrombie ad. I was too far away to get a look at his eyes, but his face was blank, crushed.
“Now, you do this little thing for me and we can run away together. Just like I promised.” She smoothed his hair and petted his cheek.
He nodded.
“When I drop you back at the apartment you must stay put. It’s not time yet. We have to set the stage with the Feast. So to speak. It’ll be fun.” She cackled. “Come.” They cut through the woods in front of me. I held perfectly still and watched. She towed him with a white-knuckled clamp on his arm. While he went with her willingly enough, he dragged his feet and didn’t help her maneuver in those heels over the broken, pitted path.
I lay there in the leaves, staring up at the sky and the clouds rushing past, until I was sure they wouldn’t see me. Nocti? Was it her? Him? Both? I wished I’d seen their eyes. If they were Nocti, I’d see the black in the sockets where eyeballs should have been. I wondered if, when Nocti looked at mine, they saw light glowing. I hoped I was never again in such close proximity to have that question answered. “Nocti?” I asked Minerva as she hopped over the log and back toward the path.
The cat yowled.
“I’ll take that as a yes. But who are they? And was the Romeo comment in regard to Juliet? Do I warn her?”
I slowed my steps when the fence started, but took my cue from her. She didn’t slow down, so I assumed we were safe for the moment.
“Merry, merry Christmas!” a little, excited voice called out to me.
“Bodie?” I started, looking up into the trees to locate him. He shimmied down. “I’m sorry, you’re a monkey. I thought you were a boy. Have you seen a boy named Bodie?”
“It’s me!” He hugged my legs.
“No!” I pretended not to believe him.
“Yes, it is.” He giggled.
I tickled him until we were both laughing so hard we collapsed against the grass, huffing. My stomach hurt from using laugh muscles; they’d atrophied. “How’s it going?” I asked, rolling up on my elbow.
Minerva sat on the top of the hill, facing Dunklebarger and twitching her tail, like a lookout sentry.
Bodie’s face clouded. “Juliet is really tired. She’s leaving. I want to go with her.”
“Leaving?”
He nodded. “Everybody leaves. It’s her birthday, then she leaves.”
“To where?” I asked.
“I dunno.”
“Do you think you could get her to talk to me?”
“I can find Nico. But Juliet is working. Mistress hates her.”
“Do you think, maybe—” I broke off. I felt like an idiot asking a six-year-old to deliver what might be the most important message ever.
“What? I can. I’m strong. Brave. Smart,” he announced, puffing out his chest a little more with each word.
“Can you give Juliet a message for me? And get it perfect? It’s really important.”
“Don’t none-deresti-ate me. It’s insulting.” Bodie wagged his finger in my face and I again thought of Sammy. He’d say the same thing and sound exactly like an adult doing it too.
“Okay. Tell her …” What to say, exactly? “Tell her that Meridian met her mom. Juliet’s mom loves her and she’s protecting her.”
“Why doesn’t she come, then?” he asked.
“I can’t explain right now, but can you tell her that?”
“You saw her mom. Mom loves her and is protecting her.”
“Yes, and I can tell her more. She has to come find me.”
“Come find you. Got it.”
“Bodie, be careful, okay? Don’t tell her in front of any adults.”
“I won’t. We never talk about ’portant stuff in front of them.” He smiled. “Bring me candy next time? Nicole has butterscotch, but I like grape Hubba Bubba.”
I nodded. Easy request. “Okay.” At least this time he wasn’t asking me to adopt him.
“Promise?”
“Sure, I promise. Grape gum.”
He disappeared over the berm and Minerva swatted at my head.
“I’m going. I’m going.” I crept back into the woods and ran all the way back to the truck. I needed to call Sammy. And hug Tens.
* * *
Tens still wasn’t back when I pulled into the parking lot. The tearoom was closed and empty.
I let myself into the cottage and turned on every light. I shivered. I looked at the phone.
“You can do this. You heard Bodie. Don’t underestimate kids.”
I grabbed the receiver and quickly dialed the number before I lost my nerve again.
I listened to it ring. I wanted it to go to voice mail and I wanted a real voice equally. Torn much?
My dad’s voice said, “Hello.”
“Dad?”
“Please leave a message and we’ll call you back.”
Voice mail.
I opened my mouth at the beep but couldn’t force sound out. I hung up and stared at the phone as tears fell down my cheeks.
“Supergirl?” Tens opened the front door, crossed the room in double time, and wrapped me in his arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I let him hold me and chase away my fear with his warmth and his strength. I mumbled, “Nothing,” into his neck.
He let me cry it out, holding me with that perfect strength, not overwhelming or overpowering.
He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe my face, but then he put it to my nose and commanded, “Blow.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Love meant sacrificing a sleeve to the snot monster.
“What?” His expression was perplexed. “You’re phlegmy. I can’t reach the Kleenex.”
The way he said phlegmy just made me laugh harder. Finally he started smiling and chuckling too. We dissolved into the kind of laughter that goes around and around with each glance and giggle.
I cradled into his body, smiling, refreshed.
He brushed his thumb across my cheek, my lips. His expression turned serious. “Why were we fighting?”
“I don’t remember.” I didn’t. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “That’s why I asked. I came in here all prepared to stay angry and then I saw you and I can’t remember why.”
I traced his eyebrows, slashes of raven’s wing bracketing his coal-black gaze. “I saw Fenestra graves and an old lady died, so I saw Auntie again and Juliet’s mom was there and then Minerva tripped me and there’s a Nocti with a boy toy and Bodie came—”
“Slow down and start at the beginning.” He shifted, toed his sneakers off, lifted his feet up onto the coffee table, and hugged me closer.
So I started the story back at when Rumi and I left the Feast.