by Forthright
“As you wish, Hisoka-sensei.”
Hisoka Twineshaft was the same as Michael remembered, an unassuming person of middling height and mild manner. As always, he favored clothes in a shadowy range of grays. Unremarkable. Only Hisoka-sensei’s cloak was out of the ordinary, and only on closer inspection. Michael knew from past experience that if you happened to catch an errant flutter, you’d glimpse a lavish floral pattern that was undeniably—and unaccountably—feminine.
Hisoka’s cloak lining was an official school mystery. Many stories were whispered in the halls of Ingress Academy, but no one knew why the otherwise sedate teacher kept an extravagance of flowers close to his heart. Michael had asked once. He’d been eight at the time, and Hisoka-sensei had praised him for his courage and forthrightness. Even so, the cat hadn’t explained himself. He never did.
The orchestrator of the Emergence accepted his host’s offer of peace with all due formality, then pulled him into a fond embrace. “Congratulations on your coming child, Michael. How is Sansa?”
“Moody. She cries over every little thing these days.” Michael rested his cheek against Hisoka’s and smiled at the faint rumble that vibrated between them. “Your visit will lighten the weight of her waiting. How long can you stay?”
“If my presence is no inconvenience, I’d welcome the chance to linger.”
“Please do.”
Hisoka leaned back, his distinctively flared eyebrows lifting somewhat. “Can you speak for your employer?”
“She’s away. More importantly, she’s like kin to us. I know she’d insist you make yourself at home.”
“Speaking of kin, allow me to introduce my nephew.” Hisoka beckoned to an Amaranthine with ruddy hair who stood with the three powerful horses who’d undoubtedly carried them at least part of the way. “Deece is one of my sister’s sons. He has recently come into his own, and she entrusted his future to me.”
Deece slipped to his uncle’s side, and Michael offered his palms. Aside from a fleeting glimpse of orange eyes and a similar shape to their brows, he bore little resemblance to Hisoka. A full head taller, Deece stood silent, eyes downcast, fists clenched at his sides.
“Go ahead, kit,” Hisoka said gently. “You can trust these people.”
Michael went through the formalities again, hoping to set this guest at ease. “I am Michael Ward, formerly of Ingress Academy, where I learned from your uncle. Currently of Stately House, where I was raised and where all of my children have been born. This is a place of peace, and you are welcome.”
The palms that touched Michael’s were large and callused. “Deece Evernhold.”
“May I ask about your name?”
“Thank you,” he mumbled, casting a pleading look in Hisoka’s direction.
His uncle slipped an arm around his nephew’s back, perhaps to keep him from retreating. “I thought you would pick up on that, since my sister bequeathed a traditional name. Deece is her tenth child.”
Michael knew what that meant, but only in the most academic of terms. Although things were different once, the Amaranthine clans were no longer prolific. In this generation, a tenth child was rare, and according to hints and whispers that weren’t considered the business of reavers, they were set apart. Sacred.
“You are the tribute of Evernhold House,” Michael said. “I’m honored.”
Deece further ducked his head.
Either he was very shy or much younger than his build suggested. Possibly both. Or … ah.
Leave it to Hisoka-sensei to thrust them into a delicate situation without warning. Clearing his throat, Michael said, “Deece, you aren’t accustomed to reavers. Are you?”
“He is not.” Hisoka warmly added, “I would trust him to no other.”
“Again, I am honored.”
THIRTY EIGHT
Unreported Incidents
Michael truly appreciated the simplicity of his wife’s wisdom. For the remainder of the day, Sansa took charge of Deece. She had him shoveling paths, peeling vegetables, currying horses, and learning her patrol route. And with each new task, Deece relaxed a little more.
“She is part of the reason I brought him to you,” Hisoka remarked from behind a newspaper.
“Sansa?” asked Michael.
“As you know, feline clans are a matriarchy. Deece is more comfortable when there’s a lady in charge.”
Michael slouched in his usual place at the kitchen table, watching the ladies work. Two of the horses were Kith like Minx, sentient members of the Withershanks clan. But the third had transformed and introduced herself as Vynn Alpenglow, Rilka’s current apprentice.
Hisoka folded away the most recent reaver communique, and Michael asked, “Learn anything new?”
“One usually does if they take the time to consider matters from another’s perspective.”
Michael toyed with his empty teacup. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“No.” Hisoka ran a hand over short pewter hair, roughing it up. “My mother might allow me to speak for our clans, but only if I don’t neglect familial obligations. Deece needed me, so I slipped away. The international community won’t miss me for a week or two.”
“You’ve been overseas.”
“Oh?” Hisoka’s attitude subtly shifted. “Where did you hear that?”
“A passing reference in another report.” Michael eased back his chair and waved for Hisoka to follow. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”
Once they were safely behind wards, Michael riffled through papers. “This is a quiet place, so I have plenty of time to read. I’ve been keeping up with events.”
“And reading between the lines?”
“As you used to say, Sensei, distance offers perspective.”
“You always were studious.” Hisoka accepted a seat. “May I relay some incidents that will not be in the reports? Your perspective will undoubtedly inform mine.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.”
Hisoka began slowly, adopting the same casual pace that made his classroom lectures feel like informative chats. “The Emergence only worked because the general populace doesn’t see the Rivven as a threat. Due in large part to the continued role of reavers as guardians of the human race.”
Michael nodded. “The media likes to imply that average citizens are safe because we’re keeping you under our thumb.”
“Peaceful cohabitation cannot progress toward wholehearted cooperation without the perception that we are harmless.”
“A useful misconception.”
Hisoka chuckled. “We downplay those differences that humans might fear, and we showcase all manner of novelties and quirks in the interest of cultural exchange. The emphasis is always on what humanity can gain from our alliance—medical advances, environmental renewal, comparative histories, and an endlessly popular glut of cryptid documentaries.”
“Feed the fascination, not the fear.”
“Exactly.”
“But?”
“But if we betray this tentative trust, the backlash could mean war.”
“Belgium.”
Hisoka hissed softly. “The reaver rumor mill is frighteningly efficient. How much do you know?”
Michael pulled the very same report he’d shared with Argent. “This came by hand, for reavers’ eyes only, and the sigils are strong enough to make my head ache. It mentions a summit to allay fears after a rash of attacks in northern Europe. In three such cases, survivors were found to be pregnant. All evidence points to an Amaranthine perpetrator.”
“These were seemingly unrelated crimes scattered across multiple jurisdictions. But with the Emergence, investigators realized that many of the unsolved cases on file—the ones that defied any human explanation—might have inhuman ones.” Hisoka rubbed at the side of his face. “Within a week of my installment, I had a contingent from every intern
ational law enforcement agency in my office.”
“What’s been done so far?”
“Full cooperation,” said Hisoka. “Reavers partnered by Kith have been placed in law offices around the world, and ambassadorial Amaranthine in positions at the national level. As for the incidents causing the current uproar, the Elderbough clan has been sniffing around.”
“Adoona-soh’s pack?” Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “There are none better.”
“Agreed. But even their noses cannot pick up trails as old as these.” Hisoka paused, then nodded to himself. “The files are in my pack. I’d appreciate your taking a look later.”
“If you think it will help.”
“I’m sure you will be able to shed light on matters. It’s another reason why I dropped by.”
The sudden intensity in Hisoka’s gaze didn’t match his casual tone. Michael stilled like a student caught out of bounds. “Sensei?”
“I’ve been abroad since September—Canada’s interior, Africa’s northern coast, portions of Catalonia, and the upper reaches of the British Isles. Everywhere we go, it is the same, and now that the Elderboughs know what they’re looking for, hunters are quicker to uncover additional sites.” Hisoka leaned forward. “One case in particular caught my attention. A team of university interns, amateur historians, and conspiracy enthusiasts came together under the leadership of a wealthy Englishman. Most laughed at Cedric Smythe’s expedition as a fool’s errand.”
Michael’s stomach plunged. “What was his goal?”
“He set out to prove the existence of dragons.”
“What happened?”
Hisoka sat back and sighed. “Perhaps he found one.”
THIRTY NINE
Brindled Mahogany
Michael barely tasted dinner, but he put on a brave face and played the genial host until the ladies retired with Sansa for the night. Reassured by his wife’s soft smile, Michael turned to Hisoka and Deece with a matching offer. Because hospitality toward the Amaranthine was every reaver’s duty and delight.
“Gentle cats, Stately House’s hearth is wide. We have our pick of rooms.” Michael spread his arms. “Let us set aside cares in favor of companionship. Trade with me, tales for tending.”
Deece edged toward the door, but Hisoka collared his nephew. “The words are traditional, and acceptance is optional.”
“Relax, Deece. Take tonight to get used to my scent, my voice, my heartbeat.” Michael offered his palms anew. “Trust is at the very foundation of tending. Report any reaver who says otherwise.”
“Thank you.” Deece fumbled for a moment, then simply repeated, “Thank you.”
On their way to one of the more spacious guestrooms, Hisoka asked, “Do you truly want a traditional tale? Or would you rather hear the rest of the one we began earlier? I can bring the file.”
“I don’t want to be rude.”
“I can see you are worried.” Hisoka generously offered, “Have it and be done. Only then can we move forward.”
And so Michael made his bed on the floor and lit two candles to read by, for his guests favored firelight and moonlight to harsher conventions. He sprawled on his stomach, chin propped on a fist as he worked his way through a thick dossier. The hour grew late, then early, and the only sounds in the room were the dance of twin flames, the slow turn of pages, and the stealthy approach of a rust-colored cat roughly the size of their sedan.
Finally.
Whether driven by instinct or by resolve, Deece curled against Michael’s hip. Silent vibrations suggested that the young male had found some small measure of trust. A good start. And a welcome distraction from the disturbing story unfolding through crisp reaver reports, rambling victim testimonies, an excess of medical jargon, and glossy photographs of crime scenes that spanned three continents.
At some point toward dawn, Hisoka slipped out, presumably to prowl the perimeter. Head aching, heart sick, Michael snuffed the guttering candles and dropped into an exhausted doze.
. . .
Michael woke to fur. Lots and lots of fur. But not the encompassing wall of pewter he remembered from his school days. This was brindled mahogany, and his predicament was akin to those nights when Minx decided she wanted to share the bed with him and Sansa.
To sleep this deeply, Deece must have pushed himself to exhaustion’s edge, worrying over coming into intimate contact with a reaver. Yet he’d changed. Overnight. Then again, felines were notorious for running hot or cold in their attitudes. Hisoka was the only cat Michael had ever met who could pull off warm.
Working an arm free, he stroked the sleeping feline, earning a basso purr that cut short the moment Deece woke. Michael quietly said, “It’s only me.”
Deece’s head lifted, and orange eyes considered the man he’d been using as a pillow.
Michael said, “You seem more comfortable in this form.”
The cat tensed, poised to spring away.
“I won’t harm you,” he promised. “And I understand your reservations. Most Amaranthine I’ve known can’t explain why they crave a reaver’s tending. Are you afraid I’ll hold some power over you? That you’ll regret giving in to curiosity?”
Deece’s gaze slipped sideways.
“Your clan must have high hopes for you.”
Nothing.
“And your uncle must cherish you.”
An ear twitched.
Michael went back to threading his fingers through thick fur. “He left so many responsibilities behind, yet he isn’t rushing you. And if you’ll pardon the self-adulation, he brought you to me.”
Deece’s gaze was back on him.
“Your uncle knows I have excellent control. I can hold back all but the barest whiff of power. There’s no chance you’ll be overwhelmed.” Michael offered a small smile. “We could try a little now, while it’s just the two of us. Not a proper tending, of course. It would be more like … catching the scent of distant flowers. Barely there, yet discernable.”
The cat’s tail flicked in Michael’s periphery.
“I should warn you. As a ward, I’m used to weaving the essence of my soul into barriers to hold others at bay. But tending gives me the chance to hold someone close.” Michael quietly confessed, “I get terribly attached.”
Deece shifted over him, planting paws on either side of Michael’s chest. Posturing.
Michael let his arms fall to either side, calm despite the naïve bid for dominance. He probably shouldn’t mention that he was the highest ranked ward to come out of Ingress in centuries. Deece was skittish enough. Yet here was more proof of how much Hisoka-sensei doted on this boy. He was providing his nephew the edge that only came from mingling with potent souls.
Lowering his head, Deece touched his tongue to Michael’s forehead. Permission.
Michael responded slowly and with great care. Like the scattering sparks that rise over stirred embers, there and gone in the same instant. Like dropping granules of salt one by one until they tip the balance. Just enough to hint at the shape, sense, and scent of Deece’s unwarranted fear.
Deece’s head canted to one side, whiskers aquiver.
“Did you feel that?” Michael murmured.
The cat nosed at his chest as if searching for something lost.
“Not bad?”
He licked his lips.
“A little more, then.” Michael allowed another glimmer past his guard.
Deece’s fur stood on end, and his nosing switched to an impatient butting.
Michael cheerfully suggested, “Transform, and you could use actual words.”
Moments later, the young male knelt over him, his face alight with wonderment. “Again?” he whispered.
“Happily.”
At first, Michael thought that he’d overdone it, for tears sprang to Deece’s eyes.
“What’s all this
?” Michael asked, gently brushing them away with his thumbs.
With a low whine, Deece hid his face against the reaver’s chest.
Poor kid. This was exactly why Michael had waited until they were alone. Tending was a highly personal matter, and it dredged up all manner of emotions. Especially the first time.
“You’re fine. Brilliant, even. Don’t fall apart on me.” Michael smoothed Deece’s hair. “This is all normal. Deep breaths.”
The first kiss grazed Michael’s throat. More quickly followed, climbing to the underside of his jaw. Apologies and pleas.
“There, that’s enough. You don’t need to beg.” He pushed at Deece’s shoulder and pulled him against his side. “Come on. Get comfortable, and we can talk.”
Deece seemed confused about where to put his hands.
Michael couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve lived among Amaranthine all my life, and I’m a father four times over. Nearly five. I know how to nestle.”
When Deece stopped squirming, he lay with his ear over Michael’s heart.
“Better?” he inquired solicitously.
Deece slipped an arm around his waist and asked, “Again?”
“Gladly.” Michael added, “Never be afraid to ask. The answer will always be yes.”
Fingers tightened in the fabric of Michael’s night clothes, and Deece nodded once. He was also holding his breath, so Michael allowed him another tiny burst.
Deece went limp.
“Let’s make a few things clear.” Michael smoothed his hand repeatedly over Deece’s hair. “Yesterday, you wanted nothing to do with me, and yet today, you are all want and willingness. But do not think for a moment that I’ve tamed you. Every Amaranthine is free to choose or refuse a reaver’s tending. I’ll never addle your mind, nor would I lure you into addiction. But you will crave my company.”
“I do.” Raising his head, Deece frowned. “I want more.”
“Naturally. I’ve barely allowed you a taste. Not until your first tending will you take your fill.” Michael said, “Work with me for a week or two, and the novelty will wear off. The urge will mellow. You’ll find your balance.”