Trinity Broken

by Jamie Craig

  Josh set aside his computer and watched Cam and Sara. He didn’t regret it. Much. It didn’t seem like a brilliant idea to throw out eight years of education, three years of low paying—or no paying—internships, and two years of kowtowing to every asshole with money just so he could write and publish his own research. But he never felt he had a choice.

  Sometimes he wondered if Cam and Sara knew what it cost him. But then, what did it matter if they did know? It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d make the same decision again, and again, and again. Even if maybe it was the wrong one. But that seemed to matter even less than the cost.

  Josh made a show of turning off the laptop and getting ready for bed, hoping to satisfy Cam. It seemed to, but Josh couldn’t see in the dark, so he had no way of knowing for sure. While their small, furry bodies vibrated and clicked beside him, like tiny cars with powerful engines, Josh thought about scientists, and doctors, and clipboards full of the very scribbling that could make, or break, a researcher. The very scribbling that had changed his life irrevocably.

  * * * *

  The bar was a good, neutral place to meet—well, as neutral as they were likely to find anyway. It was obvious Cameron and Sara were more comfortable meeting him there than anywhere else, and he respected that. He was relieved they agreed to meet with him at all. They could have told him to fuck off, like most of the population of Delta, Utah, but they didn’t. That was worth the price of a few beers.

  His notebook was sitting near his hand, but he ignored it as they made small talk about the weather and traveling and movies over the first round of drinks. By the time the waitress brought another round, Josh felt like it was time to push forward with his actual purpose.

  “I thought you might feel more comfortable if I just took notes, rather than recording the conversation,” Josh explained as he pulled the pen from his pocket.

  Cameron and Sara exchanged a glance, and Josh got the distinct impression they shared more than merely a moment of attention. “Does this mean we should’ve brought our own notebook?” Sara said with a small smile.

  Josh returned her smile. “Only if you intend to publish a paper about me.”

  Leaning back, Cam rested an arm across the back of the seat. The stretch of his legs beneath the booth’s table brought them in closer proximity to Josh’s, though he didn’t move them away even after Josh met his gaze. “I think our intentions are a little more personal than that. This is the way this is going to work. You want to know about us? We think it’s only fair we get to know about you. So every time you get to ask a question, we get one, too.”

  Sara’s smile broadened. “You get two answers for the price of one. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.”

  Josh hesitated, surprised by the deal they were offering. For one thing, it would prolong their meeting—though he wasn’t sure if that was a problem. There were worse ways to spend an evening than in Cameron and Sara’s company. For another thing, he couldn’t imagine why they would want to ask him anything. But he inclined his head. “That does sound like a pretty good deal.”

  “Good. We go first. We’ll even start with an easy one. Favorite food.”

  Josh frowned thoughtfully. “That’s not such an easy question. What does favorite mean? Is it the food I could eat every day for the rest of my life? Or maybe the food I always spend exorbitant amounts of money on whenever I go out to eat?” He sipped his beer. “Doesn’t matter, I suppose, since the answer to both questions is the same. Fajitas.”

  Sara laughed. “Looks like this one likes to think too much.” She elbowed Cameron playfully. “Someone’s giving you a run for your money.”

  “Food is a very serious matter,” Josh said, only a little defensively. He looked at the blank paper and wished he had thought to write down the questions that had been his obsession for the past three years. Now they refused to come. “I’m afraid my questions are a bit more difficult. When did you first realize your abilities, or have you always known?”

  “Always known,” Sara answered without pause.

  At her side, Cameron nodded in agreement. “It’s not something that needs pointing out to us. Think of it like…breathing. Not an autonomic response, but a part of you that just…is.”

  Josh leaned forward, the pen flying across the smooth paper, recording every word they said. “Like breathing? So you have the ability as infants as well?”

  Sara mirrored his position, her slim hand reaching across the table to stop his writing. “Someone’s cheating already,” she teased. “That was two questions in a row for you. It’s my turn now.” She didn’t wait for him to agree. “When you were a little kid, what did you dream about being when you grew up?”

  It was difficult to shift modes and actually become a participant in the discussion. What did it matter what he wanted to be when he grew up? He was doing something nobody had even attempted to do in decades. “I…uh…well, I wanted to play the drums. In the symphony. I could keep a beat pretty well, and I liked to dress up, so it seemed like a good gig.”

  “Cam plays piano,” Sara volunteered. “If you get him drunk enough, you can even get him to sing along.”

  Cameron snorted and reached for his beer. “Don’t get me started on the shit you pull when you’re drunk. I don’t think Mr. Ames is looking to bag the Playboy crowd with this paper of his.”

  Josh cleared his throat. “No, no. Not yet, anyway. But I’ll exhaust all avenues when it comes to publication. So, then, can you…shift as infants?” He frowned. “I hope this doesn’t count as cheating, but I have a follow-up question. Is shifting the proper term?”

  Sara looked to Cameron, obviously expecting him to answer. Sipping at his beer, he took a moment, his eyes growing thoughtful as he pondered the question.

  “Babies can,” he said. “They just usually don’t. You can’t take a form you don’t know exists, so most of us don’t do it until we become more cognizant of our surroundings.”

  “I was two the first time I shifted,” Sara said.

  “Which is early,” Cameron clarified.

  “We had a cat named Tofu, and my parents wouldn’t let me play with her because they were afraid of me getting hurt. According to them, Tofu jumped up on the window ledge to get away from me when I tried to pull her tail. My mom went into the kitchen to get something, and when she came out, there were two Tofus on the ledge.” She laughed. “It took them forever to figure out which one was me.”

  Josh laughed slightly, nervously. It was clearly a funny anecdote, but the thought of a little girl mimicking, shifting, becoming a cat made his stomach twist. He wrote swiftly, focusing on the words so they couldn’t see his eyes. After a moment, the discomfort passed, and he lifted his head again. “It sounds like you were a precocious girl.”

  “Were?” Cameron only smiled when Sara jabbed at him in mock annoyance, reaching to grab her waist and pull her into his side. “Don’t judge anything by her standard,” he directed to Josh. “Sara’s one of a kind.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” Josh promised, but he didn’t need to be told she was one of a kind. She was the sort of woman who demanded a second look, and then a third, and a fourth, and not just because of her remarkable beauty, or even her strange ability to change her form.

  There was no missing the devotion in her eyes when she looked to Cameron. “Your turn to ask a question.”

  He smiled. “I think Mr. Ames is going to be wishing for another favorite food question after this one.” Draining the rest of his beer, he set down his mug and pushed it to the edge of the table for the waitress to refill. “Why us? You’ve been pretty persistent since hitting town which means this is important to you. I’m curious as to why.”

  It felt like two questions to Josh. Why he was sitting in a bar with the two of them was a very different answer than why he was being persistent—or maybe, like the food question, it was all the same.

  “This is very important to me. I know I don’t have to tell you how little is known in
the scientific community about you. There are several reasons for this, I suppose, but none of them really matter. Nobody else is doing this work. Nobody else even wants to. And that’s not right. They’re scientists and that should be enough to…” Josh realized he was getting a little loud and stopped suddenly. He didn’t want them to think he just saw them as subjects of scientific perusal anyway.

  And he couldn’t tell them why, out of everybody, he chose them. I just like to look at you was honest, but not necessarily appropriate.

  His answer seemed to sober Sara, and while her gaze was still warm, there was something penetrating about it that testified to her intelligence, far more than her joking manner did. “You’re a romantic in a scientist’s clothing,” she mused.

  “I think all scientists should be romantics,” Josh said softly. “But they’ve all turned into politicians and board members and stockholders.”

  Cameron’s eyes never wavered. “And yet, these are the very same people you’re hoping to impress. You’re either tenacious or blind. I haven’t decided which.”

  “Who said I’m trying to impress them? Sure, if I don’t impress them a little, I won’t have a job anymore. But that’s not…that’s not what I’m about.”

  “Then that makes this personal,” Sara intervened. “Which means you didn’t really answer Cam’s question.” Her mouth twitched, but her smile didn’t return. “Does that mean I get another one?”

  “Maybe it’s a little personal,” Josh acknowledged. “Fire away.”

  The waitress appeared with three more beers, giving Sara a few extra seconds to contemplate her choice before they were alone again. “The last time you went out on a date…where did you go?”

  “Oh, um…this was about three years ago, I guess. We went out to watch the whales. She always said we lived so close to the beach, and we never even saw a whale. So that’s what we did.” He met Cam’s eyes. “What was your first…form change?”

  “A bird when I was four.”

  Sara grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He was trying to run away.”

  “I don’t think he cares about that, sweetheart.”

  “Of course, he does. It’s a cute story.”

  Cameron scowled, though Josh got the impression it was more put-on than anything else. “Cute or not, he’s not going to hear it. Because if you tell it, I’ll tell him the story when you fell off the—”

  “You’re right. He doesn’t need to hear it.” When she lifted her mug to her mouth, however, she winked at Josh right before taking a long swallow of her beer.

  “I think as the researcher here, it’s my job to decide what I need to hear. Every little detail could be necessary.”

  “Let’s save something for next time, shall we?”

  “You’ll see me again?” He blurted the question, both out of surprise and gratitude. He didn’t want to take the situation for granted, though he had hoped they would agree to a second, and even third, meeting. He frowned. “Wait, that was a question. Are you going to try to get two from me again?”

  This time, it was Cameron who smiled. “Only if you want me to answer that one.”

  “Please do,” Josh said, slightly mesmerized by the other man’s smile.

  Cameron left streaks in the condensation as he absently stroked the side of his mug. “The way I see it, I think you’re going to write your paper, regardless of what happens here. The more we help you, the better the odds of your research actually being accurate. So really, it’s in our best interest to help you as much as we can, don’t you think?” Something indefinable sparkled in his eyes. “And yes, that was my next question, so you can have another if you like.”

  “I agree, it’s in everybody’s best interest.” Josh reached for his beer to soothe his suddenly dry tongue and throat. He didn’t know if his sudden attack of nerves was due to professional excitement over future meetings, or something more personal. “How long have you two been together?” As soon as he spoke, Josh realized that wasn’t the question he intended to ask.

  “Three years.” The answer came from Sara, but instead of moving closer to Cameron, she leaned forward, her dark eyes intent on his. “That’s how long it’s been since your last date, you said. So why haven’t you dated anybody since then?”

  “My work. Turns out it’s impossible to sustain a relationship on about three hours a month, so I decided to stop trying.” Josh was impressed with his ability to sum up such a difficult decision in a single sentence. He straightened, thinking of a way to force his earlier question into his research. “Part of what I’m looking into is the similarities between our…cultures, despite the relative isolation. Is there a marriage ceremony?”

  “There can be,” Cameron answered. “But it’s not nearly as common as you might think. Our relationships tend to be a little more…” The word failed to come to him, and after a moment, he looked to Sara for help.

  “Fluid,” she finished.

  Josh arched his eyebrow. “What do you mean by fluid?”

  “We don’t have the same…restrictions most cultures have on sexuality,” Cameron said. “So we have a higher ratio of same-sex relationships than you’re probably used to.”

  Sara nodded. “And committed threesomes. I’ve even seen a foursome work.”

  “Oh.” A hundred questions sprang to mind, and he hoped he sounded merely intellectually curious. “Have you two ever been in a committed threesome?”

  “Committed? No.” On the heel of her reply, something skimmed across Josh’s ankle, and he didn’t need to see the welcoming glint in her eye to know that it had been Sara. “But that’s only because we’re picky.”

  Josh finished his beer before responding—partly because his throat had gone dry again and partly because he needed to buy some time. “I…I think I owe you three questions now.”

  “Have you ever been in a threesome?”

  It was a question he would’ve expected from Sara. Hearing it come from Cameron’s mouth had Josh twisting to find the waitress.

  Josh asked for another beer, and after a moment of consideration, included a shot of whiskey to his order. He didn’t know why they wanted to ask him a series of personal questions, but he figured if he expected perfect honesty from them, they deserved the same from him.

  “Yes,” Josh answered as the waitress walked away.

  “Two girls or two guys?”

  Josh didn’t shy away from meeting Sara’s eyes. “Both.”

  “My turn.” In a swift movement he barely saw, Cameron plucked the notebook out of Josh’s hand and began thumbing through the pages. “What happens after you get the information you want? What is it you’re hoping to accomplish?”

  Josh straightened, finding this much easier to answer, though having the notebook out of reach left him uneasy. “Once I finish gathering the information, I have to publish all my findings. The article itself might take several months to write, depending on my notes. Once it’s submitted for publication, I’ll go through a rigorous peer review, and once it’s published I’ll probably spend the next five years of my life defending every single word and punctuation mark. When the dust settles, I hope that I’ll have answers to some questions that everybody wants to ask and nobody has yet.” Josh leaned forward. “You two, your lives, your culture, your abilities…It’s just about the closest thing to magic left in this world. One of the last, best mysteries. So I guess ultimately I’m doing this because I want to know.”

  They regarded him intently, Sara’s dark eyes as steady as Cameron’s blue ones. “And then so will everybody else,” she said softly. “Delta won’t be as quiet then, I don’t think.”

  “I don’t think any of our lives will be the same again,” Cameron agreed.

  “I know,” Josh said, deflating a little. It was so easy to forget himself when his excitement overtook him. “There are several communities that I considered before coming here. My current location is actually classified. That was one of the stipulations of the grant. Identify
ing information will also be changed in the final report.”

  “Was that your idea?” Sara asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been preparing for this for the past several years. I know how dangerous exposure can be for everybody here.”

  Cameron tossed the notebook back onto the table and it slid across the surface to come to a rest in front of Josh again. “Sara jumped the gun,” he said. “We owe you two questions.”

  Josh nodded. “Right. How often do you shift?”

  He almost spilled his drink when Sara countered with, “Do you want to see it for yourself?”

  “Yes. If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Cameron’s hand on her arm stopped Sara from sliding out of the booth right then. “And again, Sara’s jumping the gun,” he said. “You’ve obviously made an impression on her.”

  If that was the case, the feeling was definitely mutual. “Jumping the gun how?”

  “I already told you we’d be meeting again. How else was I going to entice you back to our place?”

  Josh could think of at least two ways to entice him back to their place. Neither one of them involved luring him with promises of shapeshifting. “Well, I would like to see a demonstration tonight, if possible. But I’m sure one wouldn’t be sufficient.”

  Gently, Cameron nudged Sara out of the booth. Though her brows were drawn together in confusion, she did as she was told, hovering at the side of the table as he joined her.

  “Next time,” he said. “Sara’s got to get up and teach in the morning, and I’ve got a feeling that if you come over tonight, nobody’s going to get any sleep.” Picking up Josh’s pen, he leaned over and scribbled something down in his notebook. He stood so close, Josh smelled the faint scent of his aftershave. “Think of what questions you want to ask.” His smile was sly as he straightened and took Sara’s hand. “We’ll have ours all ready.”

  Josh stood as well, suppressing the urge to ask them to stay and extending his hand to grip Cameron’s. Cam’s fingers were strong and a little rough, and Josh swore the other man held his hand for a beat or two too long. Something electric frizzled along the surface of his skin, and he knew without a doubt that Cameron had been right. If Josh went home with them, there wouldn’t be a great deal of talking. “I’m already looking forward to it.”