by Eve Langlais
She eyed the blanket he’d lain over her when the flight attendant handed them out. Loose enough to hide anything.
She closed her eyes. What was she thinking? She was thinking she wouldn’t mind sticking her hand on his thigh and seeing what happened.
He might have sucked at handiwork, but his fingers never failed to please. She squirmed and pressed her thighs together. Looked out her window but saw nothing. They were flying at night, meaning the dim lighting cast her reflection on the glass against the darkness outside. She could see one of the humans in the next row glancing her way then pretending to watch their mini television again.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable. They were less than two hours into a twenty-one-hour flight. She really should sleep.
Jakob sighed.
Loudly.
“You awake?” he whisper-shouted.
She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even.
“Maze?”
She groaned and rolled her head over to glare at him. “What?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Of course, you can. You’re part panda now. They sleep like twenty-three hours a day.”
“I know, I should be napping, and I’m tired, but…” The reply trailed off.
“But what? Close your eyes and try.”
“I don’t like closing them.”
“Why?” she asked softly. “What happens when you close your eyes?”
It took a moment for her to hear his faint reply. “I panic that I’ll wake up months later again with no idea of what happened. Feeling the same and different at once. Waking up as someone else.”
“You’re still Jakob Jones.”
“Am I?”
He glanced down at the hands he was wringing in his lap. His vulnerability poked at her.
“If you’re not Jakob, then you are a kick-ass imitation. You look the same. Sound the same.”
“I don’t smell the same, though,” he reminded.
“And?”
“And I’m a bear,” he grumbled in a low tone.
“A cute one according to Peach.”
“Not helping.”
“Aren’t I? Let me ask, am I treating you differently than you expected?”
“Actually, you are being nicer than I could have hoped for. A part of me was convinced you’d slam the door in my face or use your magic to give me the permanent runs.”
“I still might.”
He snorted. “You would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.” She’d had a few incidences that made her revise her stance on doing harm. She realized she wasn’t willing to be hurt or see those she loved hurt either.
“Someone tried to hurt you.” He growled softly, his agitation clear as he showed a perception that read between the words.
“An addict. And a cryptid, too. When I wouldn’t give him narcotics, he attacked me.”
Jakob trembled. “Tell me you killed him.”
“No. I put him to sleep and drove him to town. Left him by a hostel.”
“And he came back.”
“He did,” she murmured. “It was a few days after I got Peach.”
Her little girl had tried to warn her, pointing a finger at the door and saying, “Bah. Bah.” Turned out she meant bad. But Maisy hadn’t known, and that addict had come in, eyes wild, brandishing a knife.
He’d threatened little fuzz.
A mama bear had nothing on a panther mom who lost her shit.
After that incident, she learned to protect herself. And when Peach spoke, she listened.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that yourself.”
“Why apologize? It had nothing to do with you.”
“Didn’t it, though? If I’d stayed, I’d have been there to handle it, and you would have never had to deal with that ugly side of the world.”
She snorted. “The patriarchy is alive and well.”
“How about chivalry isn’t dead?” was his hot retort. “Or is it really that shameful that I’d want to protect someone I care about?” He spoke in the present tense as if he still did.
“But you didn’t protect me. I did. And I will continue to defend myself and Peach.”
“I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t.”
She sighed. “I know.” Yet she wanted to pick a fight. It was the only way to resist his allure. “You need to rest.”
“I want to. I just can’t seem to manage it.”
“Is there anything that would help?”
“Cuddle me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Snuggle me. Hold me. I used to have the best sleep wrapped around you.”
The reminder of their naked limbs entwined had her hotly exclaiming, “Is this a ploy for sex?”
“Sex would make me feel better.”
“Jakob!” she squeaked.
“What? Just saying it would,” he protested.
“Not the time or place,” she said pertly, hoping he didn’t see her blush because she’d been thinking about the same thing a moment ago.
“We never did join the mile-high club.”
“And we aren’t going to start today. Go to sleep.”
He closed his eyes and held himself rigid.
She’d never thought to see him scared. She reached over and grabbed his hand. “I’m here.” Maybe not the reassurance he wanted, but apparently enough to put him to sleep.
She, on the other hand, remained awake. And when the cabin grew quiet, she slipped past Jakob to use the washroom. When she exited the tiny cubicle, she noticed the stewardess preparing her trolley with water, coffee, tea, and snacks.
A single pair of eyes from the human sitting in the row in front of hers flicked to her quickly, almost furtively, then back down again. Everyone else seemed to be studiously pretending she wasn’t there.
It tickled her paranoia.
She leaned into the galley. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Yes?” The older stewardess had her gray-streaked blonde hair pulled back, the severe style at odds with the smile.
“I don’t suppose you have an apple?”
“Of course. Give me a moment.”
Maisy braced herself on the cart while the woman turned her back. It took a moment of rummaging before Maisy was handed the apple and returned to her seat.
As the stewardess rolled down the aisle with her offerings, Jakob roused and perked up at the sight of food.
Maisy leaned close. “You don’t want anything.”
“But I’m hungry and thirsty.”
“Trust me. You don’t want anything on that cart.” She bent down and pulled free two water bottles and some bamboo shoots from her knapsack.
His eyes widened in delight. He leaned back and tried to be discreet about the fact he was chewing on bamboo, observing the stewardess as she served everyone, waving her on when she reached them.
Within half an hour, there was a lineup to the bathroom and a smell even her pathetic nose couldn’t miss.
Jakob had the bottom half of his face tucked into his shirt. “I’ve heard of bad airline food, but this is crazy.”
“It was necessary.”
“What did you do?” he muttered.
“I’m pretty sure those last-minute passengers are human-smelling cryptids. I needed them preoccupied.”
“So you gave them all the shits?”
“I’m sorry, was I supposed to kill them on a plane full of witnesses?”
“What makes you think they’re bad guys?” Jakob adopted Peach’s terminology. Or was it just that mentally he was closer to Peach’s age than her own?
“Call it a hunch.” Or the fact that they smelled too human, and too alike. As if they all wore the same human essence cologne.
No one was watching them by the time the plane landed, and those that were sick were immediately placed in quarantine. Maisy managed to avoid it by claiming they’d not partaken of any food or snacks provided on board and flashing her medical
credentials.
They made it through customs quicker than expected and soon were on the outside curb, looking for their ride.
“Over there.” Jakob pointed to a sign labelled “Jones.”
As she headed for the man wearing a chauffeur’s cap, she took note of other people on the sidewalk. A family holding tight to some wailing children. Business types in suits, faces glued to their phones, somehow managing to walk and tap at the same time. A grizzly-faced fellow with a distinct furry vibe, wearing a plaid shirt, sauntering slowly along.
She turned back as the man with the sign said, “Are you Jakob Jones?”
“Yup.”
“If you’ll follow me.” The driver, who smelled very strongly of a cologne that stifled the senses, didn’t offer to grab their bags as he led them from the busy pick-up area to the parking garage.
They went to the top deck, where only a few vehicles sat parked. There was not another living soul in sight. The driver aimed for a sedan with tinted windows. He held out the key fob, the lights flashed and the trunk popped open.
“Put your stuff in the back,” their chauffeur ordered.
Maisy, while not a weak damsel, was surprised at the lack of an offer to help. From the corner of her eye, she saw a door opening on one of the other cars.
Jakob swung his duffel into the trunk, but when he went to grab Maisy’s, his eyes widened. “Behind—”
She ducked before he finished his warning, avoiding the needle coming her way. But that was only half of the problem. Jakob dove at their chauffeur, who’d pulled another needle, and they hit the ground, wrestling.
Dashing past the newcomer with his jabbing weapon, she scrounged in her pockets, not having been able to bring much on board, not with the new flight safety rules. The only reason she had a diuretic to rub on that serving trolley was because she always kept a dose of it inside her medallion.
At this point in time, though, she had nothing but her wits. She flipped to walk backwards as the newcomer pulled a gun and stalked her. “Come with us quietly and no one gets hurt.”
One of the first things Maisy had taught Peach when she went on her self-defense kick was to never go with anyone without fighting. Best to be as loud and feisty as possible.
With that in mind, she ran for the thug, baring teeth and popping some claws. He might have a gun, but she was counting on the fact he wouldn’t use it.
As expected, the gun lifted, and he braced for impact as she barreled for him. At the last moment, he stepped to the side, and she stumbled past, tripping over the foot he extended. She hit the ground on the heels of her palms and growled. She’d let panic overcome her lessons. She rolled in time to avoid the descending needle. Before he could recover from his jab, she swiped claws across his thigh.
He yelled and dropped his needle to put his hand on the wound, but he also fired his gun.
Pop!
The tranquilizing bullet hit the ground and shattered, but the syringe remained intact. She scrabbled for it and wrapped her fingers around it and then swung it like a weapon.
She didn’t miss, and yet the needle bent as it hit hardened skin.
The thug, with his shifting features, smiled with layers of crocodile teeth. “That tickled.”
“Does this?” She kicked him in the balls, and he gasped, bending over double. She chopped at his head and brought up her knee at the same time. Winced at the crunch of cartilage and hoped he wouldn’t bleed too badly over her clothes.
“Bitch!”
“Compare me to a dog will you.” She didn’t feel bad as she raked her claws over his shoulder, not quite shredding flesh, but instinct had him pulling away.
Before she could lunge in and incapacitate him, someone grabbed her in a bear hug that crushed her ribs and made it hard to breathe.
Crocodile man stood, his face a bleeding mess, and smiled again. Whatever that smirk meant, he never got to accomplish it because he suddenly hit the ground and jiggled. She noticed a wire stringing from him to the man in plaid from downstairs, who held a taser.
“Let her go,” the new stranger said slowly.
“Don’t come near or she gets it,” threatened her hugging thug, giving her ribcage a squeeze.
“You heard the guy. Let Maze go!” Jakob snarled a second before the grip on her slackened.
She turned to see Jakob holding her assailant in a head lock. Which was perfect for the man in plaid, who took his time sauntering over to shove one of the needles into the thug. In seconds, Hug-a-thug slumped. Their fake chauffeur groaned on the ground, so they jabbed him too.
“We shouldn’t leave these here,” the man in plaid said.
Understanding what he needed, they jumped to help. Within a minute, all three bodies were stowed in the boot of the car.
The grizzly guy slammed the sedan’s trunk shut and smiled. “Welcome to Canada, eh.”
10
After that excitement, they didn’t argue when their real chauffeur, the plaid-wearing Tom, suggested they grab some Timmies. For the non-Canadian, that meant grabbing a coffee and a maple-flavored donut from a drive-thru that had a stream of cars when they entered and a stream once they left.
During this time, Tom made slow conversation. Very slow, which was normal given his sloth nature.
“How was the flight?”
“Explosive?” Jakob joked from his spot in the front seat. Maisy sat in the back, checking mail and messages from her father and daughter.
“Someone is after you,” Tom observed.
“And obviously knew we were coming here. The Academy might not be safe.”
Tom uttered a noise. “Nowhere safer.”
“And they’re aware we’re coming in hot,” Maisy advised from the back seat. “Don’t worry about the Academy. It is one of the most protected places in the world.”
“Got the best of the best working there,” Tom added.
“Are you a FUC agent?” Jakob asked the man.
“Not quite. Used to be a gumshoe with my pal, Everett. Did some odd jobs for FUC every so often. But once my pal met Dawn, and after that fiasco with Joey, we thought it was time for a change in career. Something that would afford more nap time.” Tom’s half-shut eyes made Jakob wonder if the man was currently missing his.
Maze leaned forward. “I’ve read about Dawn. Dr. Manners sent her file to ask my opinion on her condition, and I met her on my last visit.”
That drew Jakob’s attention. “Is something wrong with this Dawn person?”
“Mastermind.” A one-word answer from Tom that explained a lot.
But Maisy added to it. “The serum causes behavioral and physical changes. In Dawn’s case, a violent bloodlust that she can’t always control. Given she’s a gentle minded, doe, the change has caused issues.”
“Were you able to help her?”
Maze shook her head. “What Mastermind managed to do to Dawn happened at a cellular level. Walking it back would involve much uncertainty and danger.”
“Meaning I’m screwed,” he said in a low tone.
“Depends on your point of view,” was Tom’s sage offering. “Dawn might have some issues to deal with, but she’s still found happiness.”
It took Tom so long to say this that Jakob had a chance to wonder what the worst thing was that could happen if he remained a bear.
Mockery by his family. But that happened no matter what anyhow.
A loss of ability because of the different body, but at the same time, he’d gain new skills.
He tried to think of some more bad points. He was kind of coming up dry.
As they went from the airport to the Academy, Tom predictably drove under the speed limit and made no attempt to beat the GPS-projected trip time. Never played that game? It was simple. Enter a destination, make note of the trip finder’s arrival time, and then drive—sometimes a bit above the speed limit—and see by how many minutes you could beat it.
Currently his Uncle Klaus held the record. A three-hour trip in under one.
Da claimed the fact Klaus avoided the bridge and went across the river using a barge negated the record-setting time shave. But really Da was just mad because it knocked him out of first place.
Tom slowed even more so they almost crawled as they reached an electronic gate with possibly more security than the White House. Not all of the surveillance was visible. There were the expected cameras bolted at the top of the gate on either side, alternating their rotation, while a third sat in the middle and didn’t move at all.
A row of spikes lay flat across the opening, ready to spring and impale any unauthorized vehicles.
There was a guardhouse set off to the side, manned by a fellow with bulging eyes and a prominent Adam’s apple. Dressed in emerald green trimmed in black, he sat in the booth, appearing benign and unarmed, yet Jakob would wager he wasn’t defenseless. A place like the Academy with shifters of all castes learning to be the best animal they could be needed stiff protection. Especially now, given his mom had spilled the beans and told the world about their existence.
The only lucky thing was no one took her seriously. The media found all kinds of experts to debunk everything she’d said and what was seen. He’d wager the Council had helped with that. It behooved them to put the shifter back in its hidden cage. Imagine a world where they tried to coexist with humans.
He knew their history. It never ended well for anyone. Jakob could only hope the furor died down and things went back to normal. However, he highly doubted his mother would give up so easily. Not to mention there was a possibility the media provided cover while the government dug deeper into the shifter secret.
If they were on to the existence of cryptids… What would the governments do with that information?
Culling came to mind. Others believed they’d be forced to register. Maybe even pay extra taxes to counter their environmental footprint. Because if they got classified as animals, then it wasn’t farfetched to imagine that there could be a fee imposed on their poop. After all, they’d done it to the farmers who actually fed the humans.
Why did his mother have to threaten their existence? Why couldn’t the woman have a normal midlife crisis like everyone else?