CAUTION: This story contains implied sexual activity between minors, violence, and profanity. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Assam Chai
by IndigoNeko
Chapter 7
Tuesday, June 14th, 2016
Alex leaned back in the leather lounge chair, watching hir baby siblings awkwardly pounce on each other, rolling around the nursery room floor. At least they were pouncing on each other, rather than on hir... for now. They growled at each other occasionally, along with the other noises they made that were starting to sound surprisingly vocal. Except that it wasn’t any language Alex recognized.
“You two really need to learn how to speak English,” shi muttered. “So I can understand you two goofballs.”
A moment later Kate pounced on Nick and bit him, hard enough that he hissed like a broken steam valve. Alex sighed and stood up, grabbing Kate and depositing her back in the smaller play pen. Nick went quiet, so he must not have been injured, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
The kitten sat back on his haunches, his diaper crinkling, content to just look around. In the past week and a half of babysitting hir siblings, Alex had come to realize the two had vastly different personalities. Kate was an explorer and Nick was an observer. Shi had a feeling that Kate was going to be trouble as she grew up.
Alex sat back down on the lounge chair in the corner and picked up the string and feather toy, wondering if he’d play with it. Kate always would, for sure. Shi dangled the feather behind him, then swung it around where he would see it. His head jerked to follow the feather dancing through the air, watching it for several seconds.
Just before Alex was about to give up, thinking it was a wasted effort, Nick crouched down on his forearms in a classic pouncing pose. His tail twitched a few times, and his hips shifted. Knowing he was about to pounce, Alex let the feather slow and fall towards the ground two feet away from him. Shi already knew that if he didn’t succeed at something he wasn’t likely to try it again.
The moment the feather hit the floor, the kitten jumped for it, landing atop the bright red toy with both paws. Shi smiled as he pawed at it for a moment. “Good job!” shi exclaimed, rolling off the chair and dropping next to him. “Good work, Nick!”
Alex ruffled the fur on his back as he looked back at hir, mouth open, ears forward, and tail twitching in the feline equivalent of a smile. He rolled over as shi continued to rub his back, then pawed at hir hand. Shi played with him for a moment, then pulled back, knowing he was easily overstimulated. He relaxed and sat upright again, following hir with his bright golden eyes. Then he looked off into the distance.
Alex tilted hir head, wondering what he was looking at and glanced over hir shoulder at the wall. When shi looked back, he continued staring for a moment, then his expression changed to one of relaxed contentment. Alex sighed and picked him up, carrying him over to the baby changing station. Shi knew exactly what that expression meant.
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Wednesday, June 15th, 2016
Ginnie dragged her feet as she stumbled into the dining room, then stared in confusion at the dining table. “Why is the table covered with newspaper?” she asked, curiously.
“It’s for lunch. You haven’t tried any of the really good cajun food,” Hank asked as Gwen stepped into the kitchen as well, standing behind their daughter.
The young thrush narrowed her eyes at her dad. That explained the strange fishy smell. She watched as he picked up the stockpot sitting on the stove. Ginnie opened her beak, then thought better of it, and sighed. She was too exhausted right now to argue, especially with her featherbrained dad.
“Don’t be ungracious,” Gwen said, pushing her daughter towards the table. “Hank put some effort into this dinner.”
Ginnie clamped her beak shut with a clack, then stepped over to the table, practically collapsing into the chair across from her mother while Hank brought the stockpot over to the table, then quickly flipped the entire thing upside down. She gasped as water began to seep out around the lid that was now upside down, expecting five gallons of water to start gushing out. But it didn’t.
Hank quickly lifted the stockpot up, and dozens of bright-red bugs, halfway between shrimp and lobsters, spilled out across the table along with red potatoes, corn on the cob, carrots, and lemon slices. “Voilà!”
Steam rose from the pile of boiled bugs in the center of the table, along with the scent of unfamiliar spices. “Uhhh... What are these?” Ginnie asked. “Baby lobsters?”
“Baby lobsters! Ha, that’s a good one!” Hank exclaimed, setting the stockpot down. Then he looked over at his daughter and saw the expression of complete confusion. “You don’t recognize crawfish?”
Ginnie ever-so-slowly turned her head from left to right and back while holding her father’s gaze.
Hank’s beak dropped open. “Seriously? You’ve never had a crawfish boil? I swear I’ve fixed this for you before.”
“Well, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve had crawfish,” Gwen said, picking up one of the bugs on the table and twisting it into two parts. She stuck the yellow meat between her beak and pulled it out of the shell.
“Well... Huh. I guess it might have been a while,” Hank admitted as he sat down at the table as well and picked up one of the bright red bugs. He twisted it apart and held half of it in front of his beak, then stuck his tongue out, licking the inside. “The juices in the head are the best part.”
Ginnie felt faintly sick to her stomach as she watched her dad, then reached out and picked up one of the crayfish. They were bugs, just like grasshoppers or locusts... and she ate plenty of those. But something about these ‘crawfish’ was just... odd. She cautiously reached out and picked one of them up.
Steam drifted up from the red shell as she held it up to look at it. Tiny, lifeless black eyes stared back at her. She’d never looked a bug in the eye before. Not like this. The smell wafting up from the pile of bugs in the center of the table suddenly turned her stomach. She dropped the bug in her hand and raced for the hallway bathroom, desperately clamping her beak shut and trying not to puke.
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“Ravi, look at where your fingers are,” Dafydd called out. “When you block with the shaft of the spear you must grip it such that no part of your hand is on the ‘front’, facing your opponent's weapon. If you don't learn this now, eventually in sparring you will meet the most unforgiving teacher of all. His name is pain, and he delivers his lessons by having you sit out several classes while your shattered fingers heal.”
The panther watched the two tiger cubs practice the newest moves he’d shown, calling out slight corrections to their forms. Ravi wasn’t half bad, and the panther suspected the older tiger cub might make a competent swordsman if he kept up with it, years from now. But Alex was in another league altogether. Even using the brand-new spear haft that he’d given hir half an hour ago (to replace the lighter bo staff shi had been using), hir technique was flawless.
The younger tigress wasn’t just going through the motions; shi was putting effort into every single move. Alex also practiced what he’d taught hir literally every single day before hir Karate classes. Best of all, the cub actually listened to everything he said, absorbing that knowledge like a sponge absorbed water. He never had to correct hir twice.
Halfway through the lesson, Dafydd finally reached a decision on whether to allow them to start sparring. He and Ravi were the only two white belts in Raenne’s karate class that were allowed full-contact sparring. The only reason Ravi was allowed was because he had been recruited to help Alex train for a karate tournament, basically as a living punching bag. The boy didn’t do too badly, to be honest. Either way, both of the two tiger cubs were used to full-contact sparring.
More importantly, with Alex as a sparring partner it was unlikely that Ravi would accidentally injure hir now matter how badly he fucked up. Alex knew how to block safely and dodge quickly, whether Ravi performed a given strike correctly or not. Shi also knew how to pull hir blows if he did something wrong in order to keep from injuring him. Shi was also tough as nails.
Dafydd waited after they finished the last set before having them stand at attention. “You two have progressed quickly in two weeks. Normally, I wouldn’t have new students start sparring for at least two months. But you’re both dedicated and practice what you’ve learned on your own. So... in addition to the strike and counter drills, we’re going to add open kumite for the last ten minutes. You may only perform strikes or counters that you have learned thus far, and you are to move at half speed so that your opponent has time to recognize the strike and use the correct counter.
“These are not padded. Nor are you. Get hit with these and it will hurt. It can do damage. Your partner is trusting your control and you are trusting theirs. If your partner stops a strike short that would have hit you, acknowledge it. If your partner lacks control and hits you, you also concede the point but in the next pass you are allowed to hit them back if you believe it proper, but no harder than they hit you. Maintain your discipline and control. If you and your partner both fail in that regard and begin to escalate, I will step in and you will face me. I will not be merciful for such a breach.”
“Hai, sensei!” the tiger cubs shouted in unison. The walls of the dojo echoed them.
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Thursday, June 16th, 2016
Kayson stood at the side of the hospital bed, looking over his father. Unlike the first night they’d seen him, Dad had casts that covered most of his body now. Apparently the CT scan had shown far worse injuries than just the stab wound in his chest. He had no idea how the hospital had missed the numerous broken bones. Mom had been furious that the nurses had simply ignored the splints and bandages they’d found when cleaning him up after the first surgery.
He hadn’t been at the hospital when they’d performed the second surgery, but apparently it had been several hours to fix the bones that had started healing wrong. They’d even talked about putting Dad into a medically-induced coma because he’d been given drugs that he shouldn’t have or something. Mom had been just as furious at that; putting someone in a coma was even more dangerous than letting him suffer.
The sound of the beeping changed and Kayson looked over at the monitors. He had no idea what all the squiggly lines meant, except for the heart beat monitor. It had just gone from sixty to eighty beats a minute. Dad must be awake, finally... and in pain. He reached down and took his dad’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Hey Dad.”
Henry couldn’t move his head with the traction collar, but he still opened his eyes, blinking a few times before meeting Kayson’s gaze. “Hey, Son,” the older lizard whispered, his mouth barely moving.
“Mom’s taken Maddy and Emmy to the restroom, but they’ll be back soon,” Kayson said. “We missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Henry whispered. “I was thinking about you all... the whole time.”
Kayson didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to ask where Dad had been, but Mom had told him not to. He held his Dad’s hand, dry scaly skin rough against his own. He made a note to bring a tube of scale cream with him next time they came to the hospital.
“How’d your game go?”
Kayson looked back up and smiled. “We won. I hit a home run. Actually, I’ve hit two now; I got another home run during last Friday’s game too.”
“Good job, Son,” Dad whispered, squeezing Kayson’s hand. “I’m proud of you.”
The slap of sandals and the click of bare claws against tile preceded Emily and Madison as they entered the hospital room. “Daddy!” they both cried, seeing that he was finally awake. Both of them darted over to the side of the bed, and Kayson stepped back to make room for them. He bent and picked his youngest sister up, holding her by the waist so that she could see over the railing easier. His mother, Isabel, walked up to the side of the bed as well.
“Oh, my girls,” Heinrich said quietly, a tear running down his cheek. “I missed you all so much.”
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Friday, June 17th, 2016
Ginnie stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what the hell was wrong... why she was so damned tired. She was getting more sleep each night than she had for years, eating more than she had in years, and getting more exercise than she had in... well, maybe half a year. And yet she was utterly, completely exhausted.
Worse, she was putting on weight... a lot of it. Her belly was visibly swollen despite being constantly hungry. How the hell did someone who was practically starving get fat?
Maybe... maybe she had a tapeworm or something. That would explain it. Except that people only got tapeworms from eating raw and undercooked meat. Maybe it was one of the fried locusts from last week? A few of them had been a bit gooey in the center.
She shuddered. Tapeworms in the gut could lay eggs that would penetrate the lining of the intestine, spreading throughout the rest of the body, including the muscles and even the brain. If one of them hatched in the brain, they could cause permanent brain-damage. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about it... just like she had yesterday and the day before.
Just the memory of puking was enough of a trigger. The bird lunged for the toilet and lifted the lid, then promptly puked up the shake she’d had an hour earlier. She stared into the pink and brown mess, wondering if maybe she’d see a tapeworm in it. There had been a video in science class that showed one in a glass of water, writhing around.
But nothing moved in the stinking mess in the toilet, and after a moment she pulled the handle, flushing it down the toilet. Her stomach growled. How the hell could she be both nauseous and hungry at the same time? The young thrush lurched back to her feet and stumbled out of the bathroom and down the hallway, looking for her dad.
Ginnie found him in the garage, standing at one of the workbenches... the electrical one this time. She waited to make sure he wasn’t using something dangerous, like a soldering iron, then walked up next to him. Apparently he was tinkering with a... radio? It was bigger than her computer. She watched as he touched some of the electronics with a pair of wire leads connected to a small yellow box with a big knob on it and lots of funny symbols under an LED display.
She observed quietly for several seconds, trying to figure out what he was doing as he continued to move the metal leads around before giving up. “What’s that?”
Hank jumped away from her, flinging his arms up. “Jesus!” he screamed, every feather fluffed as he stood there, staring at her. After a second he started panting. “Gosh dangit, chiclet! Give me some warning next time!”
Ginnie ran her tongue along the edge of her beak. “Sorry,” she apologized, feeling bad for startling her dad. “I uh... I think something’s wrong. With me, I mean.”
The older thrush ran one dark-skinned hand over his red head-feathers, smoothing them back down. He took a deep breath. “Well? What’s wrong with you? Other than being a pain in the tail-feathers.”
Ginnie took a deep breath and began listing off the symptoms. “I’ve been sleeping a lot, but I’m totally exhausted. And I’ve been eating constantly and I’m still hungry-”
“You’re a growing chick. That’s normal,” Hank interrupted, waving his hand.
“Dad, I’ve been sleeping twelve hours a day, eating four or five smoothies instead of my normal two, and I’ve puked three times in the past three days,” Ginnie insisted. “Something’s wrong.”
Hank stared at his chick, narrowing his eyes. She was right; that wasn’t normal. Air whistled through his nares as he sighed. “Okay. Give me ten minutes to finish working on this and I’ll go call the medical helpline again.”
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“Okay, spill it,” Jared said, getting Kayson’s attention.
The mangrove monitor turned away from the window and looked across the back seat of the sedan at his friend. “What?”
“You heard me. You’ve been grinning like a fool all day, even after we lost the game,” the coal skink said irritably. “What’s got you so happy?”
“Oh, uh, just... thinking about Dad,” Kayson said, turning to look back out the window again. “Glad he’s alive.”
“Glad he’s alive?” Jared’s mother asked, looking back at them in the rear-view mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean? Was he injured?”
Kayson looked up at the mirror, meeting Mrs. Munsee’s gaze. He’d assumed that Mom had told everyone what had happened. “He went missing three weeks ago. The police finally found him on Monday. He’s still in the hospital, though.”
Other than the quiet hum of the engine, the car was silent for a second, then both of the two skinks started talking, asking what had happened. After a second, Miriam hushed her son, then asked “Do you know where he was? How badly was he hurt?”
“Mom thinks he was, uh, abducted,” Kayson said, using the unfamiliar word that his Mom had used. “She was able to find out where his car was with some guy’s help. Then she called the police, and they went and rescued him. He’d been stabbed in the chest and had like... I dunno how many broken bones. A lot.”
“What?!” Jared and Miriam both exclaimed.
“Yeah. He’s got casts all over now, and a thing on his neck to keep him from turning his head. His jaw’s wired shut too. He can talk, but he’s really quiet.”
“Oh my God,” Miriam whispered, then raised her voice again. “I had no idea; Isabel didn’t say anything about it. I’m so sorry. I’m glad he’s alive too.”
“Shit, man,” Jared said, reaching across the back seat and resting his hand on Kayson’s. “Me too. I had no idea.”
“Thanks. I didn’t tell you about it, cause, well... you know,” Kayson said, skirting the subject.
“Dude... you don’t have to tiptoe around it. It’s not your fault that my dad’s a sack of shit,” Jared said. “Actually, it’s kinda my fault he ran out on us-”
“Jared, it’s not your fault,” Miriam interrupted. “Your father’s a racist, sexist bigot. If I’d known what kind of man he was, I’d never have married him.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be here,” the coal skink retorted. “And it’s still my fault, because I’m gay! He left because I’m a ‘God damned faggot’!”
“Jared! Language!” Miriam choked out. “Say that again and I’ll turn this car around and take Kayson back home!”
“But that’s what he called me!” Jared shouted.
“Jared, please! Don’t swear,” Kayson begged, taking Jared’s hand. “And stop shouting! Please...”
The car was quiet for a moment before Jared apologized. “Sorry, mom.”
“Accepted.”
Several seconds passed in silence. Kayson didn’t let go, enjoying the warmth of Jared’s palm against his own. After a moment he sighed. “I’m afraid to tell mine... I dunno what Dad’s gonna say. Mom’s gonna flip, though, for sure.”
Jared squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Miriam glanced in the rear-view mirror at them, then physically turned around, spotting their clasped hands. She stared at them for a split second before turning back around to watch the road. “Oh God, not you too...” she whispered.
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“I’m serious, Kayson. If things go south, you can always come stay with us,” Miriam said. “But I still think you should tell your parents. They know Jared’s gay and still let him stay at your house. Your mom may flip at first; she’s kind of excitable. But I think after they’ve had time to think it over, they’ll accept it.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Munsee,” Kayson said, glancing up from where he was sitting on Jared’s bed. “I’ll tell them. Not until after Dad gets out of the hospital, though.”
The coal skink smiled at them. “I guess that’s reasonable. Don’t stay up too late, you two. Goodnight.”
“We won’t,” Jared said, waving at his mom from the cheap IKEA chair he was sitting in as his mom closed the bedroom door.
Kayson sighed. “I’m still nervous about it.”
“Don’t be,” Jared said, waving one hand dismissively. “Mom’s serious, just like she said. If your parents kick you out, you can come stay with us.” The coal skink unpaused the video game he was playing and ran his quarterback a few yards before tapping the button to throw. He quickly cycled through a few of the other players before releasing the button.
They both watched the TV as the football sailed across the field and was deftly caught. A moment later the player ran across the end line, threw the ball down and started doing a dance. The camera panned around to show the cheering fans in the background before announcing the final game score.
“Nice,” Kayson said, flopping over sideways on Jared’s bed. It didn’t have the same springiness that his own had, but it had much nicer blankets. The thick, soft fleece had angular Native American designs in black and teal, red and brown... colors that complemented Jared’s brightly-colored hide. Kayson ran his hand across the soft fabric and sighed. “We should probably fill up the air mattress.”
“It’s got a leak in it, remember?” Jared said, turning off his gaming console and the TV.
“Oh, shoot. I forgot,” Kayson muttered. That had been his fault; he’d forgotten to file his claws down last month. They’d patched the hole with duct tape, but it still didn’t hold air for very long anymore. “Uh, do you have extra blankets? I can just sleep on the floor-”
“Dude,” Jared interrupted, standing up and staring at him. “You really think I’m going to let you sleep on the floor? No way. You’re sleeping with me.”
“But-”
“Dude,” Jared interrupted again. “You’re cold-blooded. I am not letting you sleep on the floor. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “I liked sleeping with you last week. You kept me from overheating and you don’t move around at night at all.”
Kayson blinked. “O-kay.”
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Saturday, June 18th, 2016
“Look, I’m just saying what your physician said was possible, chiclet,” Hank said, holding his clawed hands out in front of himself, staring at his wife and daughter across the kitchen table. “I got you an appointment on Wednesday so that we can go see her and find out what’s wrong.”
“There’s no way in hell that I’m pregnant!” Ginnie screeched.
Both her parents covered the sides of their heads, flinching. “Don’t shoot the messenger, chiclet, I’m just telling you what she told me-”
“Genevieve, if you yell like that again, I’m sending you to your room,” Gwen said. “Calm down. If you’re pregnant, then we’ll just deal with it. Did you have sex with anyone at school before summer break?”
“No!” Ginnie protested, feeling sick to her stomach at the mere idea of having sex with any of the losers she went to school with. There were only two other birds of the same species at school and they were both red-backed thrushes, not red-and-black thrushes, and only one of them was male. “I certainly didn’t have sex with Bradley Morison. Ugh. Gross,” she said, greatly exaggerating her distaste for the boy. Honestly, if he wasn’t such a nerd, he’d have been cute.
“Oh, come now, he’s not that bad...” Gwen chided.
“He plucks his feathers!” Ginnie blurted, trying to distract her parents. She didn’t really want to betray such an intensely private problem, but it was true. “He’s got patches all over his upper arms. I saw them a few months ago, in PE. You can see his skin,” she said, hoping they would buy that excuse. She really hadn’t had sex with anyone! Why couldn’t they just accept that she wasn’t pregnant?
“Oh,” Hank said, recoiling a bit. Now he understood why she’d said ‘gross’. “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it... Many birds go through a phase like that when they’re stressed, especially in high school or college...”
“Look, I’m just saying I didn’t have sex with him. Or anyone else. I’m am not pregnant!” Ginnie stated heatedly.
“There’s no shame in it if you are,” Gwen persisted. “We can put the chick up for adoption. There’s lots of families who would care for-”
“MOM!” Ginnie shrieked, then went silent at the sound of glass breaking. All three of the birds turned to look at the kitchen window, which had cracks radiating out from one corner. As they watched, a sizable chunk of glass fell inwards and hit the floor, shattering into razor-sharp splinters that glinted in the afternoon sun.
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Alex rolled over, taking care not to accidentally squish either Nick or Kate, and carefully stood up. Nick fell backwards, tumbling head-over-heels, but Kate held on doggedly. The older tigress grabbed the back of Kate’s onesie and pulled her off. The younger kitten’s claws snagged in Alex’s shirt, but eventually came loose.
“Jeeze, you two don’t pull any punches, do you?” Alex muttered, looking down at the tiny divot in hir favorite shirt. Shi sighed, and set Kate down in the play pen again before pulling out the bottom of hir shirt to see how bad the damage was. Yet another tiny hole. It was definitely time to get out the emery boards again. Shi moved hir tail out of the way as Nick tried pouncing at it again, then went looking for the claw care supplies.
It took a minute, but eventually shi found them hidden in the side of the boxy black bag with all the diapers and other supplies. By the time shi turned back around, Nick had crawled back over to the play pen and was standing up next to it, trying to climb the walls in an effort to reach his sister. The slippery nylon taffeta walls didn’t give enough traction for his hind feet, but that didn’t stop him from trying as he dug his claws into the foam padding over the bar near the top of the play pen and scrambled frantically to get over the top.
Alex watched for a moment, wondering if he’d manage to climb over. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d surprised hir. Kate might have made it over through sheer upper-body strength. Luckily the play pen was constructed in such a way that it was much harder to climb out of than it was to climb in.
Nick finally gave up and put his feet back on the ground, looking around the play pen. He let go of the top bar and started moving wobbly along with one hand against the nylon wall, clearly looking for a place where he might have better luck. Alex sucked in a breath; it was the first time shi had seen either of them walking upright. “Holy shit,” shi muttered, then turned and bellowed. “Mom! Nick’s walking!”
The kitten turned and looked at hir, clearly wondering what all the noise was about as their mom double-timed it into the nursery. He stared at the two much bigger tigers for a moment, then turned and continued walking with unsteady legs along the edge of the play pen, holding onto the foam-wrapped bar near the top. Both kittens were babbling nonsense to each other, having a conversation in baby-speak while Nick looked for a way inside.
“Huh. I wasn’t expecting either of them to start walking for a few more months,” Raenne murmured, taking out her phone and starting a video recording.
When Nick paused at the corner of the playpen, Alex raised an eyebrow, watching as he looked at the two diagonal support bars. He toddled around the corner of the play pen and looked at the supports on the other side too. “Is he actually thinking?” shi asked. “Like, puzzling out how to get into the play pen?”
“He is,” Raenne confirmed with a broad smile. “What a bright boy! Not only walking but actively thinking too, and barely six months old. You didn’t start until you were nine months old.”
“Think he’ll figure out how to climb in?” Alex asked, watching as he wrapped a paw around the upper support beam and put his foot on the lower one.
“Oh, he’s already figured it out,” Raenne said. “I just don’t know if he’s got the strength for it. Kate does, but she wouldn’t have figured it out.”
“You’d think it’d be the other way around. Boys are usually stronger than girls,” Alex muttered.
“Testosterone’s what allows for serious muscle growth, and boys have that in spades... but only after puberty starts,” Raenne explained. “Before that, they’re both roughly equal. Kate’s more active than Nick is, so she’s stronger.”
Alex frowned. “Wait... is that why I’m not getting stronger as fast as Dad seems to think I should be?”
“Well, duh,” Raenne confirmed, like it should be blatantly obvious. “You’re on Spironolactone. It’s a testosterone blocker.”
“Seriously?” Alex frowned then heaved a sigh of frustration. “Dad was giving me shit about not being able to curl those twenty-five pounders.”
Raenne snorted. “Like he’s one to talk; he could barely curl twenty-five pounders when we started dating, and he was a grown-ass man. Seriously though, he’s probably forgotten that you’re on meds. After you finish them at the end of summer you’ll start putting on muscle...” the older tigress said, then gasped excitedly. “Oh look, he’s done it!”
Both of them watched as Nick finally worked out which paws to use on the diagonal supports, hooked his claws into the foam around the bar around the top, then pulled himself up. For a moment he perched on the top of the play pen before falling atop his sister with a thump. Kate let out an angry snarl and promptly bit her brother.
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Sunday, June 19th, 2016
Graffiti covered the shredded wallpaper, interspersed with gaping holes in the drywall. The ceiling had several large brown spots from water damage that had never been repaired, and was tinted orange with nicotine stains. An ancient television with tin-foil wrapped antennas was playing some sort of broadcast station, but the picture had so much snow that it was hard to say what was on. The audio had so much static that it was basically white noise... probably why the junkies sitting on the 80’s era couch were listening to it.
One of them was snorting cocaine directly off the glass-topped coffee table while the other was taking a long drag from a thick blunt. The rank smell of pot permeated the hazy air of the room, barely masking the smell of stale urine and beer... some of which was emanating from the stained mattress that Ivan was lying on.
His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He was pretty sure that he had an infection in the wound on his thigh where he’d been shot while diving off the roof. The only saving grace was that the bullet had gone straight through rather than getting lodged in his hamstring. He desperately needed stitches, but was making do with duct tape and tampons... literally. It was all that the junkies here had on hand. He wasn’t looking forward to cutting the tape off his leg later. Maybe he could find some clippers so he wouldn’t yank all his damn fur out in the process.
Motes of dust danced through the air, illuminated by thin rays of sunlight that managed to slip past the bent venetian blinds over the living-room window. If he’d been standing, he’d have been able to see his warehouse through the filthy glass; it was only a few hundred feet away. The flophouse he was in was one he’d set up years ago. He hadn’t been back in it for at least a couple years, and honestly it was a miracle that he’d remembered about it when stumbling away from the warehouse with a sprained wrist and gunshot in his leg.
Ivan still couldn’t believe that either the SWAT or FBI hadn’t come looking for him. Then again, he’d managed, barely, to clear the brick wall separating the warehouse loading bay from the neighboring parking lot, and they might not have seen him. The snipers who’d taken pot-shots at him on the roof must not have told the guys on the ground that he’d escaped. Or maybe they thought he was dead; he’d definitely been shot and the thirty foot fall onto that old car had been brutal. The fact that he hadn’t broken any bones was unbelievable.
The tiger took a swig from the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, only to realize that the bottle was empty, and it was the very last of the hard liquor they had on hand. He sighed and threw the bottle across the room, where it hit one of the exposed studs behind the damaged drywall and shattered. Both the junkies looked up, wondering what had happened, then stared at him with fear in their eyes. Good.
It was going to be weeks before Ivan would be healed enough to walk... and the first thing he was going to do was drive to Colorado and murder his fucking sister. He knew without a doubt that she had something to do with the pigs and feds showing up at his door. He just didn’t know how. He made a note to ask her before he stuck a knife in her guts.
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Monday, June 20th, 2016
Alex hoisted hir baby brother in his carry-sling, then walked across the make-shift parking lot in the field nearest to the grove entrance. It was still dark out, as they’d decided to attend the sunrise ceremony. Raenne cautiously followed along a few feet behind Alex, with Kate in her carry sling. Ahead of them, tiny spots of light danced in the darkness like fireflies; other celebrants carrying candles.
“I still can’t believe you conned me into getting up at five in the morning for this,” Raenne muttered, then yawned.
“I reminded you at dinner to go to bed early,” Alex pointed out. “I certainly did. Did you?”
“I tried, but your dad kept me up,” Raenne said, carefully watching where she put her feet while walking across the field.
Alex turned hir head and looked back over hir shoulder. “Does that mean I’ll have more baby siblings?” shi asked with a smirk.
Raenne snorted. “I certainly hope not. We’ve both got IUDs, remember?”
“Oh. Right,” Alex said, sighing with a hint of regret.
“What? You forgot?” Raenne asked incredulously. “I know what you, Ravi, and Aruna were doing on Saturday. I’m pretty sure you and Aruna would both be octo-moms right now without your IUDs.”
Alex’s ears blushed fiery red in embarrassment, but didn’t reply. Together they walked in relative silence towards the grove. Sounds faded as they entered the trees, walking through the broad trails that were lined with small vending stalls. Nothing had been laid out yet, but it was only a matter of time. Today was the ‘official’ day of the Litha festival, but Alex was certain that the stalls had been up and open all weekend. Not everyone could take time off from work for a pagan festival.
That was why they were here for the morning ritual instead of the evening one that most people attended; Raenne taught karate classes in the evening and wouldn’t be able to drive Alex all the way out to the grove, which was well outside the town limits. That was fine though. Or would be if Nick and Kate would stay quiet. Katherine was growling at being out-of-reach of her twin brother. Nicholas was making quiet whimpers as well.
Behind the stalls, portable wood-fired ovens radiated gentle warmth in contrast to the slight morning chill. Bakers were painting sun-shaped bread rolls, round and scored with radial lines, with honeyed butter. The smell of fresh baking mingled with that of fresh fruit: bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries. Steam rose from mugs of herbal teas including lemon balm, mint, and chamomile. Each scent lent itself to the early-morning air, somehow distinct yet harmonious.
Eventually they reached the end of the lane of vendor stalls, following the dancing lights of other festival-goers with candles... and a moment later stepped into the heart of the grove with the massive oak tree in the center, surrounded by standing stones. A large bonfire had been laid just outside the ring, but had not yet been lit.
The young tigress stepped to one side, joining the various other people that lined the outer edge of the grove. Many of them were wearing brightly colored robes in green and browns, or hues of red and orange. Alex had such a robe sitting in hir closet at home, but in the rush to arrive before dawn it had slipped hir mind. As Raenne fell into line next to Alex, Nicholas whined, reaching out with one tiny paw. Katherine grasped it and finally fell silent, to Alex’s relief.
The sky above was a pale indigo, stars thinning with the promise of sunrise. Cool mist hung low to the ground, beading on blades of grass. The great oak, standing in silent majesty, had been draped with garlands of meadow flowers woven in the quiet hours by devoted hands. Small lanterns glowed among the standing stones, illuminating their surroundings with amber light. Long wooden tables had been placed near the edges of the trees where Alex and hir family now stood and several robed individuals sat at the tables weaving floral wreaths with daisies, clover, lavender, and sprigs of rosemary and thyme.
At the foot of the great oak, a young couple stood barefoot in the damp grass with wreaths upon their heads and joined hands. A priestess in pale green and white robes, embroidered with gold thread like the first light on leaves, spoke quietly, her words meant more for the two in front of her more than those who had been gathered. “...you stand here, with the rising of the sun,” the priestess was saying. The priestess laid a sprig of flowering elder into the couple’s hands, blessing them. Friends and family scattered berries and petals at the couple’s feet, offerings of sweet and plenty. The couple turned to the east, waiting for the first light to break upon the horizon.
Dawn arrived slowly, as if reluctant to break the spell of night. Around the grove, people stood in a wide circle. The high priestess, Sharleen, stood at the eastern arc of the circle, tall and composed, her bold black and russet stripes softened by the pale light of early morning. She wore flowing robes of ivory and gold, embroidered with symbols of the sun. A wreath of marigold and rose lay upon her head, and in her hands was a shallow bowl filled with berries, grain, and petals—offerings of the season’s bounty.
Opposite her, at the western arc, stood Star Dreamer, broad-shouldered and serene. His robes were deep blue fading to pale silver, and stitched with constellations that seemed to dim as the sun rose. In his hands stood a staff carved with spirals and stars, with a crystal tip that seemed to catch the last twinkling light of the stars in the sky above.
The grove fell silent as Sharleen lifted her gaze to the horizon. “Children of the turning year,” she intoned, her voice resonant, “We who toil in the light of day, greet the rising sun. For without light, there grow no crops upon which to feed.” She stepped forward, scattering berries and grain upon the earth.
Star Dreamer raised his staff in response, voice calm and distant. “We who rest in the shadow of night, greet the rising sun. For without light, there is no shade in which to lay.” A hush follows, deep and reverent.
Together, they moved toward the center. Sharleen knelt and brushed ash aside, revealing glowing coals beneath the new-laid firewood. Star Dreamer lowered his staff, its crystal hovering above the embers. At the exact moment the sun’s first full ray crests the hill and pours through the oak’s branches, Sharleen spread a handful of wood shavings atop the glowing embers. The shavings caught fire, and a soft gasp rippled through the circle as the bonfire began to bloom. Golden light spilled across fur and leaves alike, and the grove seemed to come alive.
Sharleen rose, her face illuminated by flame and sunrise both. “Behold the sun reborn once again,” she declared. “May its warmth strengthen our bodies, its light steady our spirits, and its generosity remind us to give as freely as it shines.”
Star Dreamer stepped forward, tracing a slow spiral in the air with his staff. “Carry this light within you,” he said, “through the days of harvest and the turning of the leaves. When the world grows cold again, remember this morning.”
At this signal, attendants passed forward baskets of sun-shaped bread. The loaves were broken and shared, steam rising as the honeyed crusts yielded beneath careful claws and paws. Herbal teas followed, mugs passed from hand to hand.
Sharleen lifted her bowl once more, tipping the last offerings into the fire. “As the sun stands high, so may our lives stand full,” she finished. “The rite is complete. Litha is upon us.”
The circle of people broke apart. Music began, quiet at first but slowly growing louder to rise above the noisy crowd. The sun climbed steadily in the eastern sky, generous and eternal.
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It took Alex a solid fifteen minutes to find Star Dreamer again after the morning ceremony, leaving hir baby brother in hir mother's arms while shi searched the grove. The polar bear had somehow vanished into thin air after the ceremony despite standing in the center of the grove next to the bonfire. Shi had a question to ask him that could not be put off, something that had been in the back of hir mind since the Beltane festival.
When Alex finally caught up with him, he was now dressed in a simple blue robe and without the ceremonial staff, sitting at one of the tables and sipping on a mug of tea. “Hello, Star Dreamer,” shi said, sitting down at the bench across the table from him.
“Hello, little one,” the polar bear said, nodding at the young tigress. “How are your siblings doing? Have they started speaking yet?”
“Uh... not necessarily to us,” Alex said, frowning, “but I think they’re speaking to each other. It sounds like they’re talking, but it’s definitely not English.”
The polar bear hummed, a sound so deep that Alex felt it more than heard it. “Your parents may need to separate them for a time. Twins have a special bond, you see, and sometimes it grows so strong that they focus on it to the exclusion of the world around them. Separating them will weaken that bond, allowing them to become more aware of their surroundings.”
“They don’t like that,” Alex said, shaking hir head. “They whine and cry and even scream if they’re separated.”
“I’m sure they do,” Star Dreamer replied with a sigh. “But leaving them to their own devices could be more harmful to them in the long run.”
“I’ll let Mom and Dad know...” Alex said, nodding, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Star Dreamer raised an eyebrow, looking at the tiger cub through the steam wafting from his mug of tea. “And pray-tell, what do you wish to discuss, little one?”
“The Cait-sìth,” the tigress said, quietly. “Did you manage to free those poor fawns?”
The polar bear lowered the mug to the table, then spoke equally quietly. “Alex... After you told me of it, I spoke to several people to learn what I could... some from as far away as Scotland and Ireland. None of them knew any way to free the souls devoured by the Cat Sí, if such a thing is even possible. But on their advice, the cabin was purified in a ceremony of ringing bells and cleansing fire, and the ashes were spread with salt and rowan. The site of its power is no more.”
Alex was silent for a moment before asking “...but you never found it?”
Star Dreamer shook his head from side to side. “No, little one. We never found it.”
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By the time Monday rolled around, Ginnie was thoroughly sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. The constant weakness wasn’t too bad, but the occasional bouts of nausea were terrible. It was ten in the morning when she rolled out of bed, lurching to the bathroom to do her business before heading to the kitchen to fix herself a breakfast shake. As expected, neither of her parents were anywhere to be found... though at least her mom had the excuse of having to go to work. Her father had no such excuse, but frequently went shopping in the mornings.
After breakfast, a shower, and several minutes spent fixing her feathers, the young thrush decided to head back into her room and sing some karaoke. There wasn’t much else to do with her computer, phone, and television privileges having been revoked for the week. It sucked, but if she were being honest with herself, she deserved it for shattering the kitchen window. It certainly wasn’t the first window she’d shattered, and she doubted it would be the last.
Having a syrinx was both a blessing and a curse, like many heritage traits. Having perfect pitch and an excellent echoic memory as well meant she could repeat almost anything she heard. The downside was she could accidentally hit volumes of over 140 decibels, enough to rupture eardrums or even shatter glass if she hit the wrong frequency... which happened far too frequently.
She’d asked on Reddit a few times, but apparently she was the only one who had such terrible luck when it came to shattering glass; most other birds with a syrinx heritage trait, like her father, had to really work at getting the right frequency to shatter glass. It was basically a parlor trick... not something they did by accident.
After two hours of karaoke, cycling through hip hop, pop, rock, and classical (to practice her instrumentals), Ginnie picked up her MP3 player and cycled through her playlists until she reached ‘Symphonic Shutdown’, put in her earbuds, and climbed into bed, wincing as her uncomfortably large, swollen belly made itself painfully obvious.
She lay back in her bed and hit the randomize button, then winced as Charles Ive’s ‘Symphony No. 4’ started playing. It was absolute garbage, as far as music went, but the sheer chaos and atonality of it made it perfect for calming the part of her brain that wanted to mimic anything and everything she heard after an hour of karaoke practice.
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Ginnie awoke with a start, every feather quivering with fear, from the same nightmare she’d had for well over a year now. The look of hatred in the cane corso’s eyes as he stared at her from across the courtroom, followed by running the edge of his finger across his throat... that was something she’d never forget, and would probably have nightmares about for the rest of her life. The fact that she’d only repeated his own words apparently didn’t matter.
No, it was her fault for repeating what he’d said, exactly as she’d heard it. It was her fault that they couldn’t use the names they’d been born with, her fault that her father was no longer the lead musician in the Boston Philharmonic, her fault that they were living in this shithole of a town in the mountains, her fault that her family was in witness protection.
It was her fault that she would never be able to use the gifts she’d been given, to use the musical talent she had, to rise to stardom as she so rightfully deserved... because if she did, she would eventually be identified by the people they were hiding from. Stardom wasn’t worth dying for.
The thrush lay in her bed, still shaking in fear for several seconds before she started the breathing and meditation exercises her therapist back in Boston had prescribed to help with the nightmares. It took a few minutes before her heart rate had returned to something close to normal. She rolled over to look at the clock... Just after three in the afternoon.
She lay there, staring at the clock for a moment when suddenly something in her guts seemed to shift slightly. Ginnie immediately doubled over in pain as the worst pain she’d ever experienced seemed to radiate from somewhere behind her navel. Sharp, concentrated, and unexpected. Almost as soon, it ended. Then it happened again. She wanted to scream for help but could do nothing but gasp for breath.
Between cramps, she somehow managed to roll off the side of the bed, hitting the floor, then tried to use her hands to get upright. The pain vanished, though the strange intermittent tensing in her guts didn’t. She took a few cautious breaths, afraid to move, then straightened again. The rhythmic clenching continued for a few more seconds before it seemed to stop.
Unsure just what the hell had happened, Ginnie got to her feet. Whatever it was, there were two things she was absolutely certain of: that she wasn’t going to karate practice tonight and that she was going to stay very close to the bathroom.
