by Tempe O'Kun
Her gaze traveled around the room. A familiar space, now that she’s spent the last few months colonizing it. She glanced to the posters on her wall—then paused. No matter how she squinted at the letters, she couldn’t force them into words. Biting her lower lip, she stared at the blank ceiling. Clearly, the language part of her brain was still asleep. That made sense, right?
She closed her eyes super tight, breathed in and out a few times, then dared a look back up at the posters. Majestica & the Defenders of Pegastar: eight-year-old Kylie’s favorite thing in the world. At least she could read again. Had it just been her imagination? Was her imagination going crazy? No, that was a crazy thought…like something a crazy person would think.
After holding out for a heroic several minutes, she scrambled out of bed and peered out the bedroom door. No obvious intruders to be seen, so she chanced a dash to safety. Padding into the hallway, she creaked down the stairs and the shaky railing. She avoided looking out any windows in case a killer was posing outside them, or in case she didn’t recognize her refection. That had to be an irrational fear, but so was the fear of losing the ability to read.
The cold doorknob rattled at her touch, the door groaned open. The big fluffy form of a husky lay atop the bed. A look of complete canine contentment hung undignified from his muzzle.
She leaned in the door. “Maxie?”
He grunted.
Of course he wouldn’t wake up. “Max!”
He grumbled, grunted, and looked up at her. “Huh?”
She trotted in and shut the door behind her, so nothing could attack her from behind. “Is it okay if I sleep here?”
The dog answered only with a mumble, but scooted back. One paw lifted the sheet.
Scampering to the bed, she hopped in and curled up against him. At this point in a movie, the character would usually need a fortifying shot of whiskey. Did they even have whiskey? Would artisan seaweed beer do the trick?
Powerful arms enveloped her.
She rubbed her paws together, safe, but still unsure. Part of her wanted to make him talk more, just to make sure she could still understand him. But how would she explain that? Just checking that I can still understand speech. You know, no big deal.
His thick muzzle pressed to hear ear, affection carried on gentle breath. “Night, rudderbutt.”
— Chapter 15 —
Skitters
Max stirred from sleep to find an otter tucked in beside him. Her breath rose and fell in her chest against him. His paw eased down her sleek curves. She nuzzled deeper into his fluff.
He lay a gentle kiss on the bridge of her muzzle. “Hey.”
Opening her eyes just a little, she smiled up at him. “Hey.”
“So, not that I’m complaining…” He patted the base of her ample tail. “…but why are you sleeping with me?”
“Lots of reasons, um.” She squirmed, tapping her little claws together. “I mean, because I like you. And I’ve liked you for a really long time. And I like who I am when I’m with you. And you’re built like a marble statue covered in shag carpet, and—”
He rested a paw on her breastbone, putting an end to her evasions. He resisted the urge to slip his hand lower. “No, I mean literally. You just sort of popped in here last night.”
“Oh.” She sunk down, drawing the covers up to her nose. “I had a bad dream.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “But I slept fine cuddled up with you.”
“You don’t have to wait until you have a nightmare.” He drew her close, nose to nose. “You can sleep with me anytime. As long as your mom won’t be upset.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a big deal.”
“You think she approves of me?” His tail thumped once under the sheets.
“She wouldn’t have taken you under her wing if she didn’t approve.” She wiggled her whiskers at the walls. “Or let you in the guest bedroom.”
He considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
“Like Mom’s never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.”
“It’s a loyalty thing.” He shrugged. “She wrote my favorite TV show, then let me act on it, then let me date her amazing daughter.”
“Hey!” She punched lightly him in the fluff. “I’m the one who ‘let’ you do that.”
“You know what I mean, though.”
“I do.” Her wide lutrine nose brushed his. “I should probably head to the shower before my mom notices I’m in here. Wouldn’t want to scandalize her.”
“Especially when we haven’t even done anything scandalous.” He groped her tail.
She squeaked and play-bit his shoulder, then bounced out of bed. “Plenty of time for that once she leaves.”
Birds chirped and sun shone through the first-floor windows. The dog wagged into the kitchen and distracted Laura by helping make breakfast. After greeting Kylie coming down the stairs as if for the first time that morning, he’d watched as the two otters descended upon the lemon-salsa salmon, sliced melon, and toast.
After a second helping, Max licked his chops. Not all dogs liked fish, but Laura sure knew how to prepare it; grilled salmon in particular. He made himself useful, disposing of the napkins and wrapping up the leftovers.
“You kids sure you don’t want to come with me to ChimeraCon?” Plates clattered as Laura cleared the table. “You still have time to pack.”
“Thanks to Strangeville, I’ve been to enough sci-fi cons for a few decades.” Kylie slid past Max’s front with a swaying otter gait that drew his gaze like gravity. “Besides, we’ve got more exploring to do, right Maxie?”
Max stared, the last piece of toast forgotten in his teeth.
The younger lutrine smirked at the reaction, then eeled out the door to load her mother’s bags in the car.
Laura, stack of dishes in her paws, cocked a wry eyebrow.
He continued munching on toast and hoped his ears weren’t as pink as they felt as he bagged up the garbage and moved to haul it outside.
A throat being cleared caught his attention. “Max, dear?”
He perked his ears to the middle-aged otter.
Resting the dishes in the sink, she flashed a gentle smile. “Story exercise: frazzled single mother is leaving her daughter with a handsome single guy in a big empty house. And even though this kid is solid and pretty much part of the family, she still feels the need to take him aside and have a conversation. How does it go?”
The husky blinked. Laura was leaning over the counter, cradling the dregs of a cup of coffee with a smile of perfect serenity, and he was suddenly reminded of the time in fourth grade when he sat across the table from his parents, trying to justify a bad report card. His girlfriend’s mother arched an eyebrow in expectation and he realized she actually expected an answer. He cleared his throat and thought for a moment, then straightened and met her gaze. “Um, how ‘bout: ‘Kiddo, you know you’re welcome as long as you like. I trust you and I know how happy my daughter is that you’ve started dating. That said, if you ever hurt her, so help me you’ll be naked, shaved, and on the train back to Montana so fast your head will spin.’”
The older otter smirked, an expression of mischief so like her daughter’s it unnerved him. “Ooh, good threat. I like the added touch of humiliation.” She drained the last drops of coffee and eyed the bottom of the mug like there might be some she’d missed. “Feels like it needs a prop, though.”
Max considered, then smirked in return. “She gives him a cup of cocoa before she starts talking, to lull him into a false sense of security. When she’s done she leaves and he sniffs it like he’s afraid it has saltpeter in it.”
That got a laugh as Laura rose from the countertop and plopped the dirty mug into the dishwasher for Kylie run later. She patted Max on the shoulder as she made her way to the door. “There might be hope for you yet, kid.”
Max couldn’t help but smile at the praise from his sort-of mentor. Still, the convers
ation had shaken him a bit. “Um…” He began in a tentative squeak, and felt his ears flatten as Laura turned in the doorway to face him. “I’m not sure what the poor guy might say after that, to reassure her.”
This time there was no irony in Laura’s smile. She looked amused, and a little proud. “He wouldn’t need to say anything, Max.” She hefted her suitcase, waiting in the front hall. “I’m heading out. You two have a nice weekend.”
He nodded and smiled, ears and tail drooped in deference. He waited until the door had closed behind her to slump back in his chair. That had been an…interesting conversation. Still lost in thought, he polished off his hot chocolate, collected the overfull garbage and made his way to the door.
Outside, the air was hot and still. He had stopped halfway to the garbage cans to listen to a cicada in the distance when Kylie ambushed him with a grope and a giggle. “I can’t believe she’s leaving us alone in the house.” The lutrine gripped his arm and followed him along.
The dog smiled. “She trusts us.”
“Poor old fool.” She shook her head at the family hatchback as it puttered away down the long driveway. She hopped up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, pulling at his arm. “C’mon, let’s go celebrate that trust by making out on the living room sofa.”
Max lifted his ears and tried to organize a tangle of feelings into words. Failing, he deposited the trash bag, then snapped the bin’s lock in place.
Her little clamshell ears quirked, head tilted his way. “You’re locking them?”
A nod dipped his muzzle. “Yeah. I think something was getting in there.”
“Like what?”
“Actually, it was weird.” His brow furrowed as he glanced into the forest. “Might be my memory playing tricks on me, but it didn’t seem like any animal I’ve ever seen.”
“Was it Karl?” Kylie groaned. “Did he finally cross the line from ‘faintly amusing’ to ‘time for a restraining order?’”
He let the bad joke slide and shook his head. “Smaller than Karl.”
The lutrine twitched her whiskers. “Well, that narrows it down.”
He shrugged. “Smaller than a breadbox.”
“A breadbox? What is this, the 50s?”
“Fine, the size of a footstool. Really fast too.” Max scratched the fluff under his chin. “I assumed it was a feral raccoon, but—”
A branch snapped in the woods.
On instinct, they both snapped their attention toward the tree line. Max finished, subdued, “But knowing what we know now…”
Kylie inclined her head to the house. She cracked the door open with her heel and eeled backward through it.
He followed her inside and clicked the lock behind him. Between glances outside, his eyes caught hers and he raised his ears.
The otter crossed her arms. “Skitters?”
Max’s eyes widened. “Hey, there’s an idea. I guess I didn’t recognize them without the half-assed CG.”
Her tail swayed, eyes gleaming. “Have you seen one lately?”
“No. I guess they can’t get in the bins.”
She flowed around him to peer out the window, then cast a smirk back. “What if we invited them back?”
The rest of the day consisted of heading to town and purchasing monster-catching gear and snacks. Kylie arrived home drained from just running around. Weariness clung to her eyes as she stretched toward the entryway ceiling. “I think I need a nap.”
“Okay.” The husky plunked down on the sofa and grabbed his laptop from the magazine stand. “I’ll poke at some writing.”
She trudged upstairs and flopped face-first into bed. Limp as a jellyfish, her motion came entirely from the resulting waves on the waterbed. Sleep. Nightmares and the fear of them had robbed her of it for the last several days. She should be safe sleeping now. Who ever had a nightmare on a sunny afternoon?
Unconsciousness cloaked her mind, unbidden but welcome.
The otter drifted into soothing emptiness. Tendrils of stress gripped her mind. Stars, always stars, slid against the oily backdrop of the night sky. No matter what space her dreams entered, it always folded in on itself and turned inside out. Familiar faces muttered and yelled in unknown languages.
Her sore eyes opened on a cheery afternoon. She worked her stiff jaw, feeling like it’d been gnawing on clamshells.
The journal they’d gotten from Tartle lay open to an especially inscrutable page. The script degenerated as it went, denser and smaller and stranger, breaking from the lines of the paper to spiral and intertwine. The last pages of the journal, where Leister would have realized he was running out of room, ran almost black with ink.
A scrape of text caught her eye: “using a hidden entrance.”
She snatched up the journal. The scrawls and scribbles all made sense. She tried not to notice that none of the English did. Instead, she bounded downstairs, clutching the journal to her chest. “Max! Max!”
The big husky jumped to his feet, tiny netbook bouncing to the sofa cushions. His ears pinned back, hackles up, ready for a fight.
She waved the journal in his face. “I can read it now!”
His massive shoulders relaxed a little, though his muzzle stayed aligned on her.
Having used her fingertip as a bookmark, she popped the book open and started reading again. “‘The monster dwells underground.’” She paused, paw on her hip. “That could mean all sorts of things, with all these mines around…”
He nodded at the text. “Keep going.”
“Right!” In a giddy haze, she babbled onward. “‘It’s using a hidden entrance. I grabbed the disk and bolted down a tunnel. To my surprise, walls spring open before me, aiding my escape. I must keep track of the disk, hide it here. Whispers are getting loud.’” She turned the page, but found eldritch scrawl too dense to read. “Seriously? It’s too messy to read!”
His ears popped straight up. “Which word was disk?”
She flipped a page back and jabbed a claw at the page, onto a scrawl that looked like a drunken spider’s path through a drop of ink. “This one.”
His eyebrows rose. “Incredible.”
Nerves caught up with her. Maybe she’d deluded herself into thinking she’d finally decoded the journal. “Or crazy.”
“Probably not…” He traced down the line she’d just read. “That same word appears here.”
“So?” Worry whispered from the back of her mind, as a familiar, awful lump settled in the pit of her stomach. She had thought, after seeing the monster in the woods, she wouldn’t have to worry anymore, that her family had been vindicated. Even the ramblings in all the old journals hadn’t been enough to douse her relief. But now that was slipping away. She was doomed after all. She should have known better than hoping—
Heavy white paws thumped on her shoulders as Max stooped to look her in the eyes, concern and admonishment written across his face. “Hey, stop that.”
Kylie blinked. “What?”
“You’re freaking out. I can see your wheels spinning from here. You’re not going crazy.” He picked up the journal and bopped her on the nose with it. “Last time I checked, losing your mind didn’t teach you new languages. Something else is going on here.”
“Oh.” Her gaze fell to the battered leather book. Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s weird.”
He grabbed his computer. “Can you read it again, so I can record it?”
“Ummm…” She nosed closer, then back up from the text, frustrated by the impenetrable jumble. “Apparently not?”
Max grunted, not looking up from his typing.
“Ugh!” The English words clicked back into clarity with an unpleasant lurch. She pinched the bridge of her nose to chase off the vertigo. “It’s gone. And we barely got anything. Assuming you’re right and I’m not just losing it.”
He raised a digit. “We got that the creature is living underground.”
“Somewhere…” She flung her hands out to either side. “But how’d I sudde
nly start reading code? And why’d I snap out of it?”
“Not sure.” Max took the book from her and paged through it. “Maybe it’ll happen again.”
She scratched sheepishly at her arm. “It happened last night, too. Or at least, I stopped reading normal words for a few seconds.”
He stroked his whiskers with a slow nod. “Okay, so it happens when you sleep.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that why you’ve been sneaking in with me?”
“‘Sleep” would be a generous way of describing what I’ve been getting the last couple nights.” She rubbed her tired eyes. Her lithe body slipped onto the sofa beside him. Her blunt muzzle nuzzled into his chest. “In my own bed, at least. Looks like you’re the cure.”
Concern tinged his voice. He curled and arm around her. “To the insomnia?”
“Insomnia, insanity, whichever.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You help.”
His ears dipped in concern. “You still look really tired. Want me to let you sleep for a bit?”
She was way ahead of him. Lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and his free paw on the keyboard, she faded into a snooze. For the first time in days, dreams allowed her peace.
Starting at dusk, they had a stake out watching the trash bins they’d left open in the yard. They read and re-read the journal entries on the skitters, but those held limited info. Laura called after nightfall. And if she noticed how tired they sounded over the phone, Kylie especially, she didn’t say. Max suspected she thought he’d been keeping her daughter up doing something scandalous. He wished she were right. Spending their investigation time in the bedroom instead of the backyard would have been just as productive, and a lot more rewarding. But taking a photo of these critters was important to Kylie, so it was more important than his libido. If only she didn’t smell so amazing, or insist on nuzzling along his neck as they watched the trash cans. How was he supposed to be vigilant if she kept turning him on so much?