Denied--A Novel of the Sazi

by Cathy Clamp

  He shrugged. “Of course. I’ve known plenty of them. Including your assassin friend.”

  “Then you know they don’t heal for shit. About the same as humans, when it comes down to it. They have no control over their shifting. They have very little magic and, other than Tony, who is a rare exception, have no gifts at all.”

  Tristan nodded. Nothing he didn’t already know.

  “Then what are the odds, Ris that a three-day bear would survive putting a dent in a solid pine log?” A sick feeling started in the pit of Tristan’s stomach. “What are the odds a three-day would be able to have a mental link to anyone other than their Alpha without their brain exploding … in very a literal sense?” The sick feeling rose to become acid that stung his chest and throat. “And finally, what are the odds you would just happen to be so physically attracted to that particular barely legal three-day that you don’t seem to care that her father will likely track you down and kill you before Lagash has the chance?”

  The bile flew into his mouth so quickly that he barely had time to turn and drop to his knees in the mud before it spewed out of his mouth, along with the meal of rabbit and crackers he’d had before he got caught in the forest fire. Bobby patted his shoulder, adding insult to the injury. “For what it’s worth, I feel your pain. I threw up a couple of times too when I found out I was mated. So did Tony.”

  Tristan wiped his mouth with the bottom of his shirt before pushing the other man’s hand away. His throat felt raw and wounded from the acid. “I’ve had women mated to me before, Bobby. I’m an alpha. Have been for centuries. Dozens, if not hundreds, of women have been mated to me.”

  “Sure. Me too. But she’s not still alive because she’s mated to you, and your stomach knows it.” He raised his forefinger. “She shifted on her own when she never had before and survived a blow strong enough to leave you with pain, meaning she’s pulling enough power from you that you can’t heal your own wounds.” His middle finger rose to join the first in the air. “She can talk into your head with such ease that it felt normal to you.” His ring finger rose to reveal the golden band of his own mating. “You even shared a memory with a three-day, which just isn’t possible.” Just having Bobby say it out loud caused his stomach to revolt a second time, littering the water with foamy yellow bile. “Face facts. The only way she’s still alive is that you’re mated to her.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Anica reached her foot out of the water to turn on the hot tap again. She sank in the hot foamy water up to her neck and let out a slow breath. The pain had nearly subsided to tolerable levels and the minty bath bubbles had relaxed her head. She had to find a way to let go of the things she’d seen today, because the more she thought about the events of the day, the more terrified she became. She couldn’t decide what had been worse: Paula’s death, the bomb that had nearly killed them all, the madman in the horrible memory Tristan had shared with her, or Tristan himself.

  The front door suddenly opened and then slammed shut hard enough to vibrate the pictures of salmon jumping out of a crystal blue stream that were scattered on the walls. Her heart began to race. Had Lagash come to find her? She turned off the tap and ducked down below the water level, leaving only her nose up, like a tiny periscope, and sniffed deeply. Her muscles had tightened so quickly that the sudden release actually hurt when she realized the person in the next room was Bojan. But his scent was accompanied by anger. He was furious, but there were many other scents muddled with the anger. He was conflicted about something. She called out to him, “Bojan? Da li si dobro?” Asking if he was okay in Serbian might ease his anger a little.

  “Speak English, Anica. We are not in Serbia anymore.” His voice was a sharp rebuke, for no good reason.

  “Don’t be angry with me, Brother. I’ve had a bad enough day. What is wrong?” She brushed the bubbles off her skin and hair and got out of the bath, grabbing a towel to dry herself.

  Bojan stopped outside the bathroom door. “I’m sorry. I should not yell at you. It’s Scott I’m angry with.”

  That made her sad. He’d been so happy earlier in the day. She wrapped one fluffy blue towel around her body and wrapped her hair in another and opened the door. “I’m sorry, Bojan.” A quick sniff made her look down at his hands. His right hand was swollen and red, with the knuckles scraped and dotted with blood. “Were you in a fight?” She picked up his hand and he winced. “You should clean that.” She pulled him forward into the bathroom and turned on the sink. She backed up so he could step in front of her. “Use soap so it doesn’t get infection.”

  He stared at the water but put his hands on each side of the sink instead, flexing his fingers on the white porcelain until they were nearly the same color. “I punched him … and should have done worse.” He turned his head. “He kissed me, Anica. On the mouth!” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and then spit in the sink.

  Oh. Oh! “He thought you are—” Scott thought Bojan liked men. In that moment, her nose unwound the muddied scents from him. The confusion of scents made more sense now. He was angry, yes. But under the top layer were other things, including cookie spices and the same oily, musky scent she’d smelled from Tristan earlier. The scent of passion. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered. “Are you?”

  His head turned with such speed and anger that she nearly backed up, but she didn’t—knowing that would be his reaction. “No!” He stared at her as though she’d suddenly shifted into a Psoglav, the demon with horse legs and a dog head. He slammed his injured fist down on the cabinet around the sink, causing a smear of red across the surface. “How could you even ask that?”

  Calm and quiet was the best response to his outburst. “Because Mama always had to force you to choose a date for school events.”

  He rolled his eyes, his face an exaggeration of outrage. “The girls in school were more interested in finding a rich husband than dating a real man.”

  She couldn’t deny that. All of her friends were looking for older men, rich business owners who would take care of them. But she countered his statement anyway. “Because when Samit would watch girls in the marketplace with his friends, you never found any of them pretty.”

  A shrug was his response. “They weren’t.”

  “And yet,” she pointed out with a gentle finger on his nose, “you couldn’t name a single girl or woman you did think was pretty when Papa asked.”

  He turned off the water without putting his hand under and turned to face her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Papa was trying to start an argument … again, and I wasn’t interested in sparring with him.” He let out a snarl of frustration, something the gentle, sweet Bojan didn’t used to be capable of. “Don’t you think I would know if I was a buljaš?” He used the Serbian slur, which made Anica let out a growl.

  “There is no reason to use a bad word. Just say ‘gay.’” She closed the lid and sat down on the toilet, giving him a little room. “And no, I don’t think you would know. All your friends were anti-gay and so was Samit. Just learning to cook caused so many bad, horrible words from Samit that I heard, and heaven knows how many you heard alone with him, that even if you had such a feeling, you would bury it so deep down it would never see light of daytime.”

  He blinked. Then blinked again and his whole body sort of collapsed. He leaned back against the sink cabinet. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Is it bad thing to say that I don’t miss Samit at all?”

  Anica knew there was no love lost between the brothers. Samit was much like Papa. Bojan like Mama. It was a wonder that Papa and Mama had ever found love. “Perhaps. But he was hard on you. I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped you more when you would fight.” She did miss Samit and was sorry he had gone rogue and died. But she could understand why Bojan wouldn’t miss the taunting.

  He sighed and his brown eyes were sad when they met hers. His long black lashes had always been the butt of Samit’s jokes, including” ‘joke” gifts of mascara each holiday and some
times lipstick. “You couldn’t have done anything even if Mama hadn’t shooed you out of the room every time. I just wish Papa would have stood up for me. Just once. Samit would have listened to him.”

  She couldn’t help but shrug, reaching to catch the oversized towel before it fell down. “I don’t think Papa believed there was real hatred in Samit. Papa actually doesn’t think badly of gays. His friend Petero … did you know he became open just after you left for cooking school?”

  Bojan’s eyes widened and the shock of surprise floated over the minty steam in the room. “No! Really? I had no idea. They hunted together many times and they met in town for drinks.”

  She nodded. “Exactly, even after he announced. He did not talk much of it, but Mama patted his cheeks after one hunt, telling him she was proud of him for spending time with Petero. So many of his friends had faded away. But not Papa.”

  That interested Bojan. “What did he say about it when Mama said that?”

  “Only little. He just shrug and say, ‘He’s still Petero. He still hunts. He still drinks. What has changed?’”

  Bojan put his hands on the cabinet and hopped up to sit on it. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. She spoke to fill the void. “Perhaps I should not say this, but Scott is a nice man. He is honest and kind and makes you happy.” Her brother raised his head and stared at her with an emotion in his face she couldn’t quite name, so she pressed on, wanting to get her point out before he left in a huff. “You were happier today at ice cream store than I’ve seen you since you are accepted at cooking school. I have watch you cook together and laugh and walk together and smile. If he kisses you, maybe it because he sees that same happy and thinks he is reason.” She paused as his brows lowered and his expression took on a small amount of anger. But then she forged on, ready in case he reached out to slap her for saying it. “And maybe he is. You do dress better lately and comb your hair more. Your scent makes your words a lie. You liked the kiss, Bojan.”

  She could hear his heart pounding in the quiet room, louder than the popping of bubbles in the tub. When he spoke, it was to change the subject. “I don’t know how you can smell anything over the mint in the room. Don’t accuse me of having a boyfriend when you’re hiding one too under all these bubbles. Afraid Papa will find out who he is and scare him away like all the others?”

  She had to smile. Bojan was the one person she could talk to about her boyfriends. Papa had no idea she’d had men in her life, and her bed, since she was fifteen, but Bojan knew them all. He was wonderful at listening and giving advice when she was sad or happy or in pain. “He already tried. This one does not scare easily.”

  Now her brother’s face had a shocked look. “Is it the dark-skinned snake? Or the blond bear? They are the only ones I can think wouldn’t be afraid of Papa. But they are both old, Anica. Even for Sazis.”

  She gave him a little shrug and a half smile. “He has many mysteries. That is only one of them. I like mysteries. He showed me a past time, from his own mind, where torches lit rooms made of stone.” And among his many mysteries was his appearance. What she saw with her eyes wasn’t how he saw himself in his mind. Which was true? “He is also not blond and I am not positive he is bear.”

  Bojan laughed, both at having guessed right about Tristan and also for the thought of hiding his animal. “That’s not a thing you can hide, Anica. You are bear or not bear.”

  “And we used to think ‘you are human or animal.’ Sazi didn’t exist. Both human and animal wasn’t possible. But we learn, Bojan. As things change and become truth, maybe nothing is what we believe now.” So many things she thought she knew had changed in such a short time. “Maybe we only begin to know what is true.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, his scent matching the look at last. “Maybe.”

  The front door opened, making them both look toward the living room. Papa had come in, his scent and bearing weary under the layer of smoke and soot. He walked to the bathroom door, his face confused, but his scent filled with smoke and worry. “Anica? Bojan? Why are you both in bathroom?” He sniffed the air in the room and wrinkled his nose. “Mint again? I thought you had stopped using that soap. It always made Mama sneeze.”

  Anica got to her feet and pulled the drain plug in the tub before he could come in and possibly smell other things that neither she nor Bojan wanted him to smell. The scent of mint increased even stronger as the water began to swirl and spin down the drain. “It make the smoke smell go away. I thought since Mama wasn’t here—” She didn’t finish, not wanting to remind him of that. But she heard Papa sigh and his scent grow sad again.

  She looked up, opened her mouth to ask how he was doing, but he waved her out of the room. “Go, go. I need to shower. And why do I not smell food cooking?”

  Bojan slid out the door past the big man, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I’ll start the fish. Anica, could you make a salad?”

  She nodded but risked a look at Papa’s face. He was alternating staring after Bojan and then at her. Worry was leaking out of him like air from a balloon. “Papa? What is it?”

  He took a step and touched the side of her face, his face full of warmth and love. “It is nothing, jagnje. Go dress and we will have dinner.”

  Now she was even more worried. He hadn’t called her baby lamb since she was a small child. She still remembered the white knitted hood with fluffs of wool she used to wear that everyone said made her look like a tiny sheep. She would hide among the animals in the barn on their farm and nobody could find her for hours.

  Dinner was nearly silent. Only the clinking of forks against the plates could be heard, and discomfort filled Anica’s nose even more than the excellent-tasting fish Bojan had cooked. It wasn’t until she was picking up the dishes to take in to clean that Papa spoke. “I talked to Mama today. She called the office.”

  Anica was halfway to the kitchen and nearly dropped the handful in her rush to turn. “How is she? Is she happy? How are the new bears?”

  Bojan joined in, his questions rolling over the top of hers. “Has she been able to make it back to the farm? Are the horses well?”

  Papa raised his hand, his face solemn. But his scent was conflicted. Happy but sad and angry, all balled into one. “She is well, still in hiding outside of Belgrade. The new bears take up much of her time. Their families rejected them. When the first family was told, they were horrified. Word spread and the children were told not to come home.”

  Anica’s stomach grew sick. That could easily have been her own story. “Thank you, Papa. I haven’t said that enough. You took me back and kept loving me.”

  He looked at her, his face stricken. But then he coughed and cleared his throat. “You are my daughter. Of course I did not turn you away. Nor would Mama. But that means she must care for the other children, train them. She is trying to teach them farming so they can eventually go back to our home. But the children … they are not farmers and they have much sadness. Two already have jumped in the river, from the big bridge.”

  Anica couldn’t help but cover her mouth and let out a small cry. Killing themselves wasn’t the answer. There was a life as a Sazi. It wasn’t a bad life, even as a weak bear. “Oh, Papa. I’m so sorry.”

  He cleared his throat again, his fingers tapping on the table. “So you will both go back to Serbia and help Mama. That is all. Pack your things.”

  Wait. What? She put the dishes on the counter. Bojan was likewise stunned. He leaned over the table, hand flat on the polished surface, staring at their father. “We have barely become settled here. You said Mama would eventually come back here to live. I have interviews at restaurants in Spokane, and Anica has been applying to colleges there so we can live together and visit you and Mama on weekends.”

  When Anica inhaled deeply to calm her fast-beating heart, she was surprised to discover … black pepper deceit, just as Rachel had said. “You’re lying, Papa. Why?”

  Bojan turned to stare at her then sniffed the air himself. “You are. What is th
e truth?”

  Slamming his palms down on the table, Papa swore in several languages. “I hate your nose, Anica. It is too sensitive. Who could possibly lie with you in the room? Fine. Mama is struggling. That is truth.” Both she and Bojan sniffed to confirm it. “And it is truth you must go back.”

  Again, truth. But if not to help Mama … “Why?”

  He half-stood from his chair and fished in his front pocket. He pulled out two folded-up envelopes and tossed them across the table. Anica reached for one and her suddenly shaking hands revealed an official government seal in the corner. “Your visa applications were denied. You and Bojan are being deported.”

  Her stomach sank. It had never occurred to her that they would not be accepted in this country.

  “What about you?” Bojan’s voice was outraged, but Anica couldn’t tell why his reaction was so much stronger now than before.

  Now Papa’s scent and words were sad. “Mine was accepted. I have no answer why. Perhaps more mayors are needed in America than cooks or students.” Just by the way he said it, Anica knew he would not be going with them. Was it because of Mama, or something more? Was the thought of a large pack of unstable bears just too much to consider leading? Was a town of an unstable other kind of animal somehow better?

  Everything in the room looked normal. The table was still fine polished wood, the carpeting thick and rich, just like when they moved in. But like that first day, the world had tipped on its side. Everything was askew and disconcerting. Just a few months ago, Anica was standing in a raspberry field in Serbia, helping collect fresh berries with Mama and Samit to make jam.

  America wasn’t even in her mind. Rachel and Dalvin, Claire and Alek, Denis … even Skew, weren’t even considerations. And now she’d found Tristan and liked him. She couldn’t imagine life without all of them—could barely remember her life a year ago. She tried to imagine a life where she was back in the raspberry fields with no hope of friends, of travel, warring with the neighbors over a field of bushes. But couldn’t. Even Luna Lake, so quiet and peaceful, felt like home now. “I don’t want to go. Who can take appeals? What about mediator who helped us? She was not just Sazi official, but U.S. government person, yes?”