Denied--A Novel of the Sazi

by Cathy Clamp

  Anica wanted to crawl underneath a log and not come back out. “Are spiders size of people?”

  Amber nodded her head, her arms tightly wrapped around her body. “My husband, Charles, has told me stories about hunting down the spiders with two other men. They’d eaten all of the Sazi where they lived in what is now South America, and had started to move out into the bigger world. Charles and his friends tried reason first—they are part human, like us. But their minds work so very differently. The human half was their sin, their shame. They didn’t want to live with us, among us. They wanted to hunt us, even after they knew that hunting us to extinction would mean their own death.”

  Anica wanted to take her mind off the thought of a spider the size of people, so she tried to shake it off by getting back to Paula’s death. The pretty waitress had always been nice to her. She didn’t know why Rachel didn’t like her, but Paula had never done anything to make Anica think badly of her. In fact, she’d always greeted her with a smile and even asked what sort of foods she used to like back home. After Papa made Mama leave, she had the cook make a passable musaka sa krompirom, a baked beef and potato supper that made America feel a little less frightening. “Then why use something to bring attention to Paula’s death? Does this person want to be catched?”

  “Caught,” Tristan corrected, almost automatically, but he was nodding, moving closer to her, and squatting down to stare into her eyes. “That is a very good question, Anica. Why indeed?”

  Then he slid inside her mind, his eyes still locked with hers, making her brain fuzzy and the people around them fade into the background. Something is causing you pain. What is it?

  Telling him seemed so easy, like whispering with Bojan behind the house at night after everyone had gone to bed. Paula was good woman. Her killer should not escape. I must help find him.

  He’s a dangerous man. That doesn’t frighten you?

  A snort burst out of her nose. “Life is dangerous, often frightening. It does not change what needs be done.” It was something that needed to be said out loud, not hidden inside her mind like a shameful thought.

  “Interesting non sequitur.” Dalvin let out a little chuckle. “But true. So what now?” He wasn’t asking her. When she glanced up, he was looking at the snake policeman, deferring to him. If that was to be, and he was honest, she would try to trust. But she would watch for deceit. Snakes could not be trusted. Tristan’s face took on a small frown, as though he heard her. But he was bear, so he should understand. He stood up and stepped a few paces back, to give her room to stand up.

  “Now,” Anica said, and stood back to all four feet. “We track him. He makes one mistake. Maybe more mistakes inside. We must go look and smell, find who he is so he can be punished.”

  Papa let out a low growl. “Not you. Anica will go back to town. What is inside is nothing a child should see. Or smell.”

  “I am not a child, Papa!” She was growing ever frustrated with this insistence that she couldn’t stand on her own, think for herself.

  Amber let out a little noise that was part embarrassed cough and part hiss. “While I dislike his opinion, I have to agree that Anica isn’t a trained investigator, or part of Wolven. I don’t know that her presence is more than a distraction. Probably she should go back to town with Rachel and Tristan.”

  “But—!” How could the doctor say such a thing? “Why should you stay then?” The cat turned to her with a look close to anger. Very well. If the doctor wished to strike her down, then so be it. “There is nothing left for you to heal. My nose can find killer. I have to help!”

  Amber ground her teeth, her magic rising but not stinging like it normally did. She looked to Bobby and Dalvin. Dalvin shrugged, leaving the decision up to the snake shifter. Her heart sank. Why would the snake help her?

  Tristan was tapping one finger on the windshield of the motorcart thoughtfully. He tapped loud enough, slowly at first, but increasing in frequency and intensity every time that the snake opened his mouth to speak, but would have to yell over the noise, that the snake let out a loud sigh and turned to stare at him. “What?”

  He shrugged, fluid, elegant. “You said her nose needed training. Her father said she shouldn’t see the scene. The killer does need to be caught. How about this? We cover her eyes and Bobby leads her through the scene. She doesn’t see, she does smell, and she gets training from one of the best. The rest of us go back and just the two of them stay.”

  Papa frowned, his whole body voicing his disapproval before he ever spoke. His voice was even deeper than normal. “I do not like this. Alone in woods. I do not know him. No. Doctor will stay to watch.”

  The doctor let out a laugh at nearly the same time as the snake, but it was the snake who spoke. He gave a small bow to her papa. “Alpha Petrovic, I do understand your customs. But I am happily mated with six children and my wife is a Komodo Dragon shifter. I assure you I am not willing to risk the wrath of the very dangerous woman inside my head right now.”

  Her papa’s eyes nearly showed the amusement his scent gave away, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he held his ground. “Then would it not be better to give her no reason to fear? Let the doctor guide her while you teach.”

  The doctor let out an annoyed sound that was like a housecat hiss. “Zarko, while I appreciate your concerns, I simply don’t have time to babysit your daughter. There are still people back in town who need healing. The fire hasn’t suddenly disappeared, and more people will be coming after the next shift.”

  Rachel lifted her arm. “I’ll do it. I’ve seen plenty of blood and guts. I can do it one more time, I guess.” She lowered her voice a bit, and hot metal frustration made her continue. It was one of the things she liked best about Rachel. She didn’t fear speaking her mind. “But Zarko, if you don’t think Anica has already seen enough horrors to last a lifetime, then you’re deluding yourself. This is one dead woman. Yeah, there’ll be blood, but the pain is at least gone. You saw the cave in Serbia, what the children looked like. You know the things she saw.”

  His eyes flicked away. They’d never talked about her time there. Never. Even Mama couldn’t ask her of the things she’d experienced. A sharp, bitter scent came from his pores, over a dusty smell that she’d learned was shame. Why would he feel shame? “She escaped. My little girl escaped.”

  She stepped toward him and bumped his hip with her head. She didn’t want to open that tightly bound box deep inside her now, not in front of all of these people. But she had to at least admit the box was there. She had been a little girl then. So little and afraid. The things she saw, smelled—“Yes. I escaped … after eight months.” Eight long months, filled with days and nights of screams, blood. Fear was the first scent she was able to put a name to, even before she became an animal. He looked down at her then and there was a look she’d never seen on his face before. A pain, a haunted look of anguish. He reached down and touched her ear, her fur. She wanted to lean into his touch, accept the comfort of her father, but to do that would admit she was still what he claimed. “I haven’t been a little girl for a very long time, Papa.”

  He coughed, then held his head up and pushed past to bury his emotion, yet still unwilling to let go, even a little. “Rachel will stay and guard.”

  Now the frustration scent was her own. Anica’s friend rolled her eyes. “Goody.” She reached in her pocket and removed a key ring, holding it out to her fiancé. “Dalvin, do me a favor and run back to my place and get something out of my closet that blood won’t ruin. I think there’s some old sweats in the back.” He nodded and took the keys, tucking them in his front pocket. Then Rachel snapped her fingers. “Oh, and get something for Anica to wear too, when you shift her back.” Yes, she would need clothing. Rachel paused and looked down, meeting her eyes. “Wait. Can you hold her in animal form if you leave?”

  Oh! She should not change and be naked in the forest with strange people. That would be very uncomfortable. Especially if Tristan was still here. Why that would be worse s
he didn’t know. But Dalvin only shrugged, his scent betraying no alarm. “I’m not holding her now. I presumed it was Bojan who shifted her.”

  But her brother shook his head, his scent confused and surprised. “No. I am not good at shifting another, even with the moon.” He looked at her then. “How did you shift?”

  The sensation of shock that raced through her made her head fuzzy. “I … I do not know. I thought Dalvin—” She tried to feel for a presence of magic, like the last time Dalvin changed her. Even though it had been smooth, she could feel the sensation, like being in a harness with a taut rope, pulling. But she couldn’t remember the moment when the change happened. She didn’t feel anyone’s magic holding her. There was no tension of her animal wanting to slumber inside her, even though the moon was not close. She was a bear and it felt like she had no rope around her at all.

  Amber pushed out her own magic, touching gently. “As far as I can tell, nobody is holding her now.”

  Papa stared at her with an odd expression. “You change yourself? But you have never—”

  “No. I have no magic to make change. Dalvin must have. He was there, in the soda shop with me. Just me and Bojan, and Scott, and Rachel.”

  Amber didn’t seem to think it was interesting enough to be concerned with. “One of you must have, and Zarko is probably holding her without realizing it. She’s his sloth and could be drawing on that unconsciously.”

  “Truly, Doctor—” She had to speak up, because something important was happening, and she didn’t understand it. “I feel no tie. I do not think of it until now, but there is no pull to keep animal out.”

  That made the doctor rear back a little, and then her face grew thoughtful. “Okay, new theory. There’s a lot of powerful magic in a very small forest. Maybe it’s like a Council meeting, where weird stuff happens. Too much magic in the area can have odd effects on weather and lesser Sazi. Usually, they sting or burn, but I suppose it’s possible there’s enough loose magic that she’s able to draw on it to hold herself.”

  It made sense. Ozone filled the air like just after a lightning storm as the others agreed. The snake nodded. “Been there, seen that. I do recall at a couple of Council meetings that there were spontaneous shifts. At least two of you guys could qualify for the Council if there weren’t already-filled spots.” He didn’t say who, but she knew Papa was likely one of them. He was a very powerful bear … equal in magic to the one who held the title now. She was always proud of that one thing to come from her attack: Papa had grown more powerful and more respected.

  The snake looked at her, and the look was almost kind, which startled her. “Anica, when everyone leaves, all that magic will go away and you’ll likely change back, suddenly and probably painfully. Do you want me to hold you in form so you can stay as a bear and have your best nose while we go through the house?”

  If the doctor was right, then … but he was a snake. She was torn. Rachel had little magic too, so she couldn’t help. She looked at the house. No. She must be strong. Paula deserved better. She was not a little girl to fear help, even if she didn’t trust. “Yes. I will allow.” She was going to stop there, but Mama’s chiding came to her mind—Manners, Anica! Do not be rude. She dipped her head in his direction. “Thank you.”

  He dipped his head in reply as the others squeezed into the ATV. Papa changed Bojan back to human and let him appear to wear clothing for his dignity. As he started the engine, Papa took a deep breath, still uneasy, as the snake’s magic flowed over the top of her with a sensation of stinging. It was not painful, exactly, but it was like running her hand over a nettle bush. She didn’t feel any different than she had. The bear inside seemed not to mind where the magic came from, which still seemed strange. Papa watched her for any sense of discomfort, but there was none, so he said, “I will be back soon. We will seal area like before hunt so nobody comes to interrupt.”

  The snake nodded. “Thank you. That’ll help me concentrate and not waste my own magic.”

  Once they were gone, the snake spoke. “Okay, look. Bullshit aside. Are you guys really okay with going into a crime scene? ’Cause it won’t be pretty in there. I can smell the amount of blood and there’s a lot.”

  Anica already knew that. Her head nodded before she even thought about it. “There is much blood smell. But I have seen arms and legs ripped off, watched bears feeding on people who did not survive. They are not things I try to remember, but the pictures come in my mind at night. I often wake after.”

  Rachel let out a small shudder but agreed. “Yeah, I’ve seen bad shit too and still get nightmares. All I smell is blood here. Like Anica said, no pain, no fear, or sweat. It’s the pain that’s the worst. This is pretty clean, as smells go.”

  The snake turned without digging into those memories. “Great.” He walked to the porch of the little cabin, expecting they would follow. “So, let’s get to teaching. First, a little about me. Like I said, I’m a python. I have a great tongue for scents. But I’m also a trained chemist. I hold a doctorate in organic chemistry from an Ivy League university. The reason I went to college is because while I could smell things with my tongue, I didn’t know what the smells were. I had no names for the smells.”

  “Yes!” Anica couldn’t help but shout it, and it made Rachel laugh. “I have this same trouble. I smell emotions, but don’t have names. I smell plants and have no names. It makes my head crazy!”

  The snake, Bobby, let out a chuckle. “I have a friend who was also an attack victim. I knew him before, as a human, and he dealt with smells afterward differently than I’d ever encountered. I was born a Sazi, so I’ve just always known certain smells, like emotions, because my parents explained them as they happened. But for Tony, he had no frame of reference other than matching food and things around him with the smells. He started matching emotions to things he already knew, and the more I thought about his comparisons, the more I realized they played out.”

  Rachel was leaning against one of the porch pillars, not really unwilling to go inside, but clearly in no hurry to either. “Such as?”

  “You mentioned pain and fear. He always said that fear smelled like hot and sour soup from a Chinese restaurant, and pain was like Worcestershire sauce—the scents made the back of his jaw tighten and his mouth would drool. He discovered he’d started eating his steaks with extra Worcestershire sauce after the change. That bugged him a little at first, after he put two and two together.”

  Anica found herself liking this snake, despite her best effort. “Yes, I see. Is like when people laugh. I smell oranges. Mama says I am silly. But I know I smell oranges from their mouths, no matter what they have eaten.”

  “Hey, yeah,” Rachel agreed. “And I can spot right away when people are lying to me. It smells just like a pepper grinder. The bigger the lie, the stronger the smell. When they’re telling a real whopper, I start sneezing.”

  “It is true!” Anica found herself finally telling someone what she’d been thinking for years, without embarrassment. “Back in Serbia, when Mama and Papa were sitting in yard, I could smell cakes and cookies. There was cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg, and I knew they were happy, in love. But after they fought and Papa sent Mama away, he smelled cold and wet but peppery … not like lies, but like Mexican spices, and I knew he was sad and angry with her.”

  “Well…” Rachel tried to figure out how to say something, and Anica knew she was trying to be tactful. “Your mom did sort of betray you all and nearly got you killed.”

  It was true, but—“I want to believe she did not know Larissa’s intention. I can’t believe Mama planned for me to die.”

  Rachel didn’t comment, just tipped her head and shrugged. There was a long moment with no sound, and then Bobby cleared his throat. “So, anyway. Scents. The more you can expose yourself to names of things, the better. The leaves I had you smell were from a Black Hawthorn, also known as a Douglas Hawthorn. You’ve lived here for a month. You should have known that. Buy field guides to plants. Go on na
ture walks everywhere you travel. It’s not only okay around humans; it’s actually encouraged to smell things. Start opening food and smelling it. Stand in the produce section and sniff the vegetables. Again, perfectly natural and nobody looks at you strange. Same with the meat department and seafood. Then smell fresh versus frozen, then various stages of rot. Bananas are great for that. They go overripe fast. Make soup from scratch and smell each spice as it enters the pot and the quantity. Smell the final product and remember the quantities that created the whole. Then compare it to pre-canned. You’ll smell the chemicals they add right away—the artificial flavors and preservatives that aren’t natural. But without knowing what each chemical smells like, it doesn’t help.”

  He opened the door, and the powerful scent of blood, which had been more muted with the home sealed, burst into Anica’s nose. Her animal wanted her to snuffle in the scent, wanting it to be food. It made her cringe. “How do I stop wanting to roll around in smell? It is not … right to want this. It offends my heart.”

  “Yeah, smells get the best of me too,” Rachel admitted. “When I used to smell a dead mouse in the wall as a kid, I’d wrinkle my nose and leave the room. Now when I smell it, my arms shake like my wings would flutter in my owl form, and I want to rip into the wall to find it … to eat it, and it makes me sort of sick.”

  “That’s another tough one,” Bobby agreed. “Same with my friend. He had a bad spell once, and wanted to chase down a jogger. He’s a wolf, and chasing down prey is natural. He had to fight for control, which is critical as a three-day. I don’t have any easy answers for that one. Control is your friend. Avoid first, and when you can’t, have a buddy system. Let other people keep you away from the temptation. We’re humans first, and we get to control how we react. That’s why murder is illegal, even with our kind. We not only have the ability but the duty to control ourselves.”