Part 15 (1/2)
I smiled into the darkness. It felt good. ”We win.”
Fifteen.
”I ain't sorry. You got that? I have never regretted a single minute of my life, and I ain't sorry.”
-Frances Brown Back in the Meatpacking District (still nicer than it sounds), in an increasingly full converted warehouse IT TOOK US almost two hours to get back to the Nest, thanks to Uncle Mike's evasive driving techniques, which included a trip through the Lincoln Tunnel. I spent most of the drive watching the mirrors for signs of pursuit. They never came.
Sunil and Rochak goggled shamelessly as we entered the Nest. Each of them had a suitcase, and Rochak was dragging a cooler filled with gingerbread, cookies, and jars of a.s.sorted types of sugar in both liquid and granular forms. I'd never realized there were so many kinds of natural sweetener. Watching a Madhura pack his kitchen was definitely an education.
Istas was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, carefully st.i.tching lace around the edge of one of her seemingly endless supply of parasols. She looked up as we approached, a.s.sessing us to see whether we presented any threat. The way her posture tensed told me she didn't know what Sunil and Rochak were. I started walking just a little faster, putting myself between Istas and the others.
”Istas, this is Sunil and Rochak,” I said, indicating them each in turn. ”They're Madhura.”
Her expression-a mixture of wariness and blank incomprehension-didn't change.
I tried again: ”They're cryptids, they're harmless, and they brought cookies.”
”Why did you fail to open with the word 'cookies'?” Istas set her sewing supplies aside and stood in a single fluid gesture. The smile she turned toward Sunil and Rochak contained a few too many teeth. ”Baked goods are one of the primary accomplishments of civilization.”
”Along with . . . ?” prompted Uncle Mike. I couldn't blame him. I'd been tempted to do the same thing.
”Waterproof mascara, conditioner, and bleach,” said Istas. She c.o.c.ked her head to the side, still studying the two Madhura. ”My name is Istas. I am a waheela. Do you know what a waheela is?”
”No,” said Sunil. He hesitated before adding, ”Ma'am.” Always play nicely with the predators of the world-and whether or not he knew what Istas was, she was clearly a predator. Nothing else could hold so still while staring so intently.
”I am a therianthrope from the upper reaches of this continent,” Istas said, with perfect calm. ”My people come from the ice and the snow and the tundra without end. I live here because I am considered a 'human-lover,' too soft and fond of people to be an effective hunter. Do you think I am soft?”
There was absolutely no good answer to that question. Sunil and Rochak shot me matching panicked looks. I sighed. ”Istas, please play nicely. Sunil and Rochak are going to be staying with us while the Covenant is in town.”
”We bake,” said Sunil. ”Constantly. And we share.”
”Hm.” Istas considered them. ”I will extend my protection to you in exchange for cookies.”
”Deal,” said Rochak.
I rubbed my forehead with one hand. Between Istas and the mice, it was probably a good thing we were importing our own dedicated bakers. Probably. ”Okay, guys. Any open office is available for you to use as a bedroom, and we're going to get more inflatable mattresses. You've met Uncle Mike, and Ryan is-Istas, where's Ryan?”
”He has gone to the Freakshow to collect some things, and to confirm that Kitty does not require our services.” Istas bent and picked up her parasol. Then she paused, sniffing the air. ”I smell gingerbread.”
”Like I said, they brought cookies.” I gave Rochak a meaningful look.
I like smart people. He opened the cooler, grabbing one of the medium-sized bags of gingersnaps and tossing it to Istas. She caught it one-handed. It took her less than five seconds to open the bag, s.n.a.t.c.h out three cookies, and cram them into her mouth.
”Okay, that's Istas taken care of, and you can meet Ryan when you get back. I should probably introduce you to the mice. That'll go better if you're willing to give up some more gingersnaps. That just leaves one more person. Hang on a second.” I c.o.c.ked my head, ”listening” for the telepathic static of Sarah's presence. As soon as I started looking for it, I found it, lingering at the back of my mind like so much white noise. Sarah? I thought, as loudly as I could. Can you come to the main room for a minute? There's someone I need you to meet.
I'll be right there, she replied. I just need to get off the phone.
If she was on the phone, that meant she'd managed to reach Artie. That was a good thing. She'd be calmer after talking to him, and I didn't want to introduce her to her new roommates while she was still all worked up about losing her hotel room. Sarah was funny about privacy. That telepath thing again. She liked putting s.p.a.ce between herself and other minds, the more, the better. I made a mental note to tell Sunil and Rochak not to take the office directly next to hers.
They were frowning at me, looking confused, while Istas did her best to eat her way through the entire bag of cookies without pausing for air. I offered an apologetic smile. ”Sorry,” I said. ”My cousin is coming down to meet you. Her name's Sarah. She's a telepath, but she's a very polite one, and she won't poke around in your head without permission.”
Somehow, they didn't look particularly rea.s.sured. Rochak put down his suitcase and coughed into his hand before indicating the cooler, and asking, ”Is there someplace we can put all this? A cooler isn't exactly ideal for long-term storage.”
”There's a kitchen,” said Uncle Mike. ”Come on, I'll show you. There's even some masking tape so we can label the stuff you don't want anybody else touching.”
”Thank you,” said Rochak. He glanced to Sunil. ”Will you be all right here with Verity?”
”If she were going to kill us, we'd be splattered all over the inside of the cafe by now, not standing in this G.o.dforsaken excuse for a refuge,” said Sunil. He sounded tired. ”Go on. Make sure everything is put away. I'll get us a room.”
”All right,” said Rochak, and followed Mike out of the room. Istas glanced between us and the cooler, and then went after the cooler, choosing the potential for more cookies over company. I couldn't exactly say that I was surprised.
”So,” said Sunil.
”So,” I agreed. I spread a hand, indicating the slaughterhouse around us. ”This is home for the duration. The dragons lived here for centuries without getting caught. It should work for us for a few weeks.”
”You really think this will be over in a few weeks?” asked Sunil dubiously.
”If it's not, I think it's unlikely to be my problem anymore, because I'll be dead,” I said, and shrugged. ”It's a hazard of the job. When you decide to be the immovable object standing in front of the unstoppable force, you'd better pray that you're right about being immovable, and they're wrong about being unstoppable.”
”Otherwise, you'll wind up like a bug on a winds.h.i.+eld,” said Sarah. She sounded exhausted. I turned to see her coming down the stairs from the second floor walkway. Her hair was loose, and her feet were bare, but apart from that, she was dressed exactly as she'd been when I left to get the boys from Gingerbread Pudding. ”I don't want to be the one explaining that to your mother, you know.”
”So hopefully, you won't be. Sarah, this is Sunil. Sunil, this is Sarah.”
”h.e.l.lo,” said Sunil. His eyes were a little wide. Not unusual in men meeting my cousin for the first time-or in anyone meeting her for the first time. It's not that she's pretty, although she is. It's that her cuckoo mojo goes to work with word one, trying to find a way into their heads. If Sarah wasn't careful, she'd have him thinking that they'd been friends since childhood. Or that they were dating, or married, or who knows what else.
”Sarah . . .” I began.
She flinched a little. ”Sorry. I relaxed while I was on the phone, and I just . . . sorry.” Her eyes flashed white as she clamped her s.h.i.+elds down tighter. The telepathic static increased in volume at the same time, like keeping herself from changing the minds of people around her meant that it was harder for her to stay out of ”sight.” That was good to know.
Sunil blinked and shook his head, like he was trying to clear away cobwebs. His expression changed, going from bedazzled curiosity to fear as he took a large step backward. Then he bowed deeply toward Sarah.
”What the h.e.l.l?” I asked.
”I don't know,” said Sarah. Louder, she asked, ”Um, sir? Do you think you could stand up, maybe, and stop being weird?”
”My lady Johrlac, if you allow me to take my brother and depart your hive, I swear, we will never darken your door again.” Sunil was talking almost too fast for me to understand him. It didn't help that he was facing the floor. ”I did not know. I am sorry. I did not realize.”
”What are you talking about, Sunil?” I asked. ”Sarah's my cousin. This isn't her 'hive,' it's our hiding place. If it belongs to anyone, it's mine, since I'm the one renting the place from the dragons.”
He lifted his head enough to shoot me a deeply apologetic look. ”I can't save you. I'm so sorry.”
Right. ”Okay, I think I see what's going on here. You called her 'lady Johrlac.' That means you know what Sarah is, doesn't it?” The Covenant of St. George never figured out that the cuckoos existed. That didn't mean the other cryptids weren't aware-and ”Johrlac” was the proper name for her species.
Sunil's apologetic look turned panicked. ”You mean you know?”
”Johrlac,” said Sarah, sounding not only tired, but suddenly depressed. Discussion of her actual species tended to have that effect on her. ”No one knows where we come from, no one knows how to send us back there, and most people don't know how to kill us. Everybody calls us 'cuckoos,' because a thing can be less scary when you have an easy name to hang on it. We steal lives, and then we end them. Is that what you think I am?”