Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  “Kip, I presume?”

  Upside down and mute, he lifted a paw to wave.

  “I will thank you to not bring attention to my presence so near a den of wolves.” Argent’s eyes narrowed, but he also righted Kip so that the blood was no longer rushing to his ear tufts. “This is not the time for games, Woodacre.”

  Kip tucked so fast, Argent received a faceful of tail. The stupid was multiplying.

  But the fox’s only retaliation was a soft cluck of his tongue. He set Kip on the roof of a nearby convenience store and arched a brow.

  Transforming, Kip squared his shoulders, prepared to withstand anything if it meant keeping Joe’s secret safe. But while the better part of his brain was churning through tactics, his mouth joined in on the stupid. “Wow. You look taller on television.”

  Argent Mettlebright sighed.

  If Kip’s tail hadn’t been wrapped three times around his torso, he would have tucked again. He settled for a sheepish smile. “Sorry. You probably get that a lot.”

  The fox merely extended his hand. A slender rod of crystal rested on his palm. Kip bit his tongue, clasped hands, and waited for the ward to take effect.

  Argent didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Lapis confided in me. I am here to assess your beacon.”

  “He’s mine.” Kip’s grip tightened. “I won’t let you take him.”

  Without any change in expression, Argent tapped Kip’s nose, then touched his own. “I will say it again. I am here to assess your beacon.”

  “You’re going to help us?”

  “I am certainly in a position to do so.”

  Which wasn’t any kind of promise, even if it was true.

  Kip had no leverage. What’s more, keeping Jiro’s secret meant he was on his own, with no support from either his clan or the enclave. Contacting Lapis had been a risk. This was all Kip’s fault. “My friend … he asked me to hide him. He’s afraid of what the reavers might demand. He doesn’t want to leave his home or learn any of the arts or be bred in captivity.”

  Argent’s growl took Kip aback. It was the same kind Rook used to chase away bad dreams. A comforting rumble, pitched to soothe. “I will not lead your friend into captivity.”

  “He … he’s beautiful.” He swallowed hard. “Anyone would want him.”

  “I do not.” Argent’s lips quirked. “You may recall that I am also in possession of an unregistered beacon. Tsumiko also expressed considerable wariness with regards to the reaver way of life. I protect her much as you wish to protect your friend.”

  “You really will help us?” Kip desperately wanted assurances.

  Argent sighed. “I am here to help him.”

  Kip felt the color drain from his face. “I’m not keeping him against his will or anything.”

  “Then you have nothing to fear.”

  “Really.”

  “Too many beautiful souls have been snatched and shattered. Too many lives have been caged by avarice and vice.” Argent reached up to place a hand against Kip’s cheek. “Lapis believed you both earnest and honest, and I am inclined to agree. But an ignorant promise is an empty promise. Have patience, and you may yet have my pledge.”

  Kip bowed his head.

  Argent kissed his brow.

  “Can you wait for tonight?” asked Kip. “I have work.”

  “When?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “So be it.” Argent left the crystal in Kip’s hand, saying, “That is tuned. Keep it with you. I will find you.”

  Joe slumped against the side of his bed, knees pulled to his chest. He nodded to himself, then nodded again. “It’s probably fine.”

  “You’re sure?” Kip slouched beside him, the very picture of dejection. “Because I still have vast stores of guilt and a recurring desire to grovel.”

  “Pretty sure.” Joe patted Kip’s shoulder. “I mean, he already promised to be Ash and Tami’s go-between, didn’t he?”

  “Oh.”

  Joe tried to read the redhead’s expression, but they were both rattled. “Does he know it’s me?”

  “It’s too big a secret. I didn’t name names.” Kip ventured, “Did you tell Tami about this part—the beacon part?”

  “Only that I’m a reaver.” Joe winced. “I didn’t want to get her hopes up. In case.”

  “Yeah.”

  Joe’s gaze strayed to the clock. “He’s late.”

  “That’s probably my fault.” Kip held up a rod of crystal. “I might have laid a few false trails, created a couple of echoes. Added an illusion or two.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Same reason you took me into the corn maze. I figured a fox would enjoy the challenge.”

  “There are wards all over the farm and thirty-odd wolves on the property.” Joe couldn’t believe Kip was mucking with one of the Five. “Aren’t those obstacles enough?”

  Kip resumed his groveling position.

  Someone rapped on the bedroom door.

  Joe’s heart lurched, and Kip lunged for the knob. A peeved Argent Mettlebright stood in the hall. When Kip fumbled for an apology, Argent silenced him with a look, stepped inside, and stiffly inquired, “May I add to your wards?”

  “Yeah, sure. Go for it.” Then Kip crept back to Joe’s side and curled his tail around them.

  While he worked, Argent said, “You might have mentioned that your friend is a Reaverson.”

  “Slipped my mind,” Kip admitted. “Does it change anything?”

  The fox waved a hand. “In many ways, it simplifies things. Our acquaintance can be attributed to my role in Tami’s courtship. Future involvement will go unquestioned.”

  Joe was almost ready for it when Argent turned to face him.

  He was so much more than what the television showed.

  Should he stand to greet him? That was probably proper, but Joe didn’t think his legs would support him at the moment. So he tangled his fingers deep in the puff of Kip’s tail and hoped he wasn’t pulling too hard.

  Spokesperson Mettlebright sat, right there on his bedroom floor, and offered his palms. “My name is Argent. I am here to confirm your status as a beacon and to ensure that your personhood and rights are being respected. May I know your name?”

  “I’m … umm … Joe.” He didn’t want to let go of Kip, so he didn’t. “Joe Reaverson.”

  Argent graciously inclined his head. “And your relationship to Tami?”

  “I’m her twin.” No matter what, Joe would always be pleased and proud of that fact. With a little more strength, he added, “She’s my twin.”

  Withdrawing his hands, Argent settled himself more fully, elbows on knees, fingers loosely nested. “I am in desperate need of basic information, so I am going to begin asking questions. Of both of you. If I cross into territory that is too personal, simply decline to answer.”

  Joe mumbled an affirmative.

  Mostly, Argent wanted to know ordinary, expected things—family history, childhood memories, educational background, property holdings, hours of operation. Some questions were decidedly odd, though.

  “Do you associate the Amaranthine you’ve encountered with colors?”

  He didn’t.

  “Are you able to divine an Amaranthine’s clan while they are in speaking form? For instance, would you be able to tell a red fox from a red squirrel?”

  He couldn’t.

  “Have you ever seen foxes anywhere on the property?”

  Not recently. Unless Argent meant his mother.

  Argent cracked a humorless smile.

  More than once, Kip wouldn’t answer Argent. He refused to speak for Ash or to give details about Bellwether Enclave, its founders, or their plans. But he spoke freely and knowledgably about human politics, reaver placement, police protection, citizen patrols, and the attitude of administrators in their county’s Office of Ingress.

  The fox asked, “How close was the rogue?”

  Joe didn’t think the question was as offhand as Argent ma
de it seem.

  But Kip answered without a fuss. “One county over. Naroo-soh is in Fletching if you want a firsthand report.”

  Argent’s hum may have been displeasure. But then he said, “Your hand, please.”

  It took a moment for Joe to figure out that the fox meant him … and another few for him to unsnarl his fingers from Kip. He’d probably been rude to withhold his greeting earlier. At least he felt a little readier now.

  Lord Mettlebright offered his hand in the human manner, and his clasp was firm, like a good handshake was supposed to be, except he didn’t do the whole shaking part. Neither did he let go. In fact, he went right on talking as if they weren’t holding hands.

  “How are the people of Archer responding to the prospect of Amaranthine in their town?”

  “Positively. I’d even say we’re proud. And that’s mostly thanks to Tami’s tireless advocacy.” Kip ticked off his fingers. “Local paper gave her a column. She and Flootie—that’s her secretary—write it together. And she has the PTA and the Office of Ingress working together to offer weekly courses at the community center. But hands-down, the thing everyone shows up for is Bingo Night. Harrison Peck—he’s our school’s attendance clerk—runs the Rivven trivia portion of the program. It’s made him a local celebrity.”

  “Most of the town shows up,” offered Joe.

  “Stick around until Saturday, and you, too, could win fabulous prizes.”

  Argent huffed. “I will have to alert Twineshaft to the unforeseen—and therefore untapped—potential of … bingo.”

  Kip sobered somewhat. “We’ll get a better idea of what’s in store when Dr. Bellamy has his say-so. They timed everything so Hisoka Twineshaft and his entourage will be on hand for the last day of classes before winter break. At that time, Dr. Cyril Bellamy, beloved president and Amaranthine in hiding, will come out as a Sunfletch to Bellwether’s staff and students.”

  “Trust can inspire trust,” said Argent.

  Joe was sure the fox gave his hand a small squeeze. And come to think of it, wasn’t he closer than before? Had he been inching nearer under the cover provided by Joe’s lapful of squirrel tail?

  But then Argent shared a little about his bondmate. Tsumiko had been similarly ignorant, not only of her status as a beacon but of the existence of Amaranthine. Wrapped up in her studies, she’d entirely missed the Emergence. “Like yourself, she was moderately isolated and well-warded.”

  “They didn’t bother her?” Joe dared to ask.

  “Who? Reavers?”

  “The wards.” He looked to Kip for support. “I didn’t like them at first.”

  Kip shrugged. “Fine-tuning fixed it.”

  Argent’s brows slowly ascended. “Perhaps we should discuss aptitude. Woodacre, what is your assessment?”

  “Jiro’s gotta be a beacon,” said Kip.

  With a flat look, Argent began listing classifications. “Ward. Pinion. Kilter. Battler. Candor. Reach.”

  “Not sure. I only had the smallest peek. It was enough to know I’m out of my league.”

  “You have not … indulged?”

  Kip reddened. “I’m not an idiot.”

  Argent’s hum hit a skeptical note. Turning his full attention on Joe, he inquired, “May I?”

  Joe’s gaze dropped with his stomach. “There are wards.”

  “I am aware.” When the silence grew awkward, Argent sighed. “It may interest you to know that you have been safe. Even at this proximity, even with hands joined, I detect nothing unusual about you. You have been effectively … stashed.”

  “But there’s no way in …?”

  Argent’s gaze slanted toward Kip. He mildly said, “There is a way.”

  “Isn’t there another way?” asked Joe.

  “Certainly, but that would require more preparation.” Argent smiled thinly. “I understand your discomfort and will not linger any longer than necessary.”

  Joe mumbled, “If you think it’s best.”

  “May I?” he repeated.

  “Yes.”

  A hand cupped his cheek, then caressed it. If it was meant to calm Joe down, it wasn’t working. Kip made that soft chirring noise—sympathy and support.

  Argent rolled his eyes and said, “Say, ah.”

  Joe missed a beat. What came out was really more of a “Huh?”

  With that, Argent eased his forefinger into Joe’s mouth, carefully pushing past teeth. Which was weird, but also a relief. Joe closed around the intrusion, felt the tip of a claw against his tongue, and held very, very still.

  Kip slapped his forehead and swore under his breath. “I didn’t think of that!”

  “No?” asked Argent. “I do wonder why not.”

  FORTY-SIX

  Disclosures

  Argent hadn’t expected to find anything more than an unusually potent soul and immediately regretted his cavalier attitude. Salvaging the situation required all his poise.

  “Trust for trust, Joe,” he murmured, as if he had any choice in flashing tails.

  Let them think it a diplomatic gesture.

  Now that Argent was past the squirrel’s wily net of sigilcraft, three things became abundantly clear. The first he could readily admit—Joe Reaverson was certainly owed a beacon’s rank. By the ninth tail, he outranked them. Shuttering such a soul might require his full flourish.

  This alone was reason enough for Argent to wish Twineshaft was here. The cat’s discreet support would have left him feeling less harrowed. Because Argent’s second realization might be nothing more than coincidence. But what were the chances? He knew this bloodline, was bound to it still, though by choice rather than compulsion.

  Joe was a Hajime.

  Uncovering descendants in America might have been incidental, even innocuous, if not for the third matter. This young man had been branded by the same style of seal that had once shackled Argent to the Hajime line.

  While not exact, each small difference could be accounted for in any number of ways—adaptation, refinement, intent. But the basic structure was so sickeningly familiar, Argent felt threatened. Cautiously, he probed the pattern, which could easily have been a trap.

  Another two tails thrashed into the open.

  He gently withdrew his finger from Joe’s mouth. Resisting his first impulse, which was to taste, Argent hesitated over his second, which was to wipe it on his pantleg. Giving in to a mildly fiendish impulse, he thrust the finger into Kip’s mouth.

  The squirrel’s eyes crossed.

  Oh, yes. Teasing him was vastly better than dealing with the repercussions of this discovery.

  “Two perfect gentlemen, fraught with maidenly qualms,” drawled Argent. “I commend your decision to wait.”

  Kip leaned away, pulling free. “I was right, wasn’t I? He’s a beacon.”

  “Without a doubt.” Argent dried his finger on the hem of his tunic. “In my capacity as a member of the Amaranthine Council, I have personally met sixteen of the world’s beacons.”

  “How many are there?” asked Joe.

  “Officially? Twenty.” Argent inspected his claws, though he was actually focused on calming his tails. They felt as puffed as a squirrel’s. Far from dignified. “By longstanding tradition, only the twenty brightest souls alive can attain the title. However, Glint Starmark recently redefined and expanded the classification to account for perennial members … and to respectfully retire reavers who have reached the limit of their legacy.”

  Kip leaned forward. “Perennial members?”

  “More than half of the beacons alive today are either tree-kin like Joe’s sister or bound to an Amaranthine partner.” Argent smiled thinly. “The former still do their part, if sporadically, but the latter muddle Glint’s precious pedigrees by mingling species. He has opened the rank to new blood, provided they are adding to their legacy.”

  “Umm … legacy?” asked Joe.

  “Kids,” said Kip. “Let’s hope the venerable Glint Starmark never finds out that Ash and I are on the verge
of wrecking the Reaverson family’s progeny projections.”

  Argent was inclined to agree. “You would not be the first unofficial beacon. My own bondmate is unregistered, yet she has been acknowledged as both beacon and bastion.”

  He arranged his tails, and Joe’s gaze followed. Argent would have caught the young man’s straying hand, but Kip was quicker.

  Catching Joe’s wrist, he offered a mild rebuke. “No touching, Jiro. Tails are personal.”

  Joe was all contrition, but also confused. “You never said.”

  Kip flushed guiltily. “I’ve never minded.”

  “You should have said,” grumbled Joe, who turned to Argent next. “I don’t feed him anymore. He told me about that.”

  “Then you know more than you did. And you will learn more as you go.” Argent wondered how far this boy’s ignorance extended. “You know that tending will be required to sustain your life?”

  “Yes, Kip told me.”

  “How much did he tell you?”

  Joe shrugged. “Something about sharing a part of my soul.”

  Argent favored Kip with a hard look.

  The Kith-kin offered pleading palms. “I could hardly go into more detail when he doesn’t have the grounding and I don’t have the know-how. It’s why we needed help. It’s why we’re confiding in you.”

  Having been in close quarters with them for nearly two hours, Argent had formed his opinions, mostly based on scent and guesswork. The simmering tension between them was an endearingly innocent blend of want and willingness. What made the whole mess interesting was Joe’s confidence. His decision was more than made.

  In contrast, Kip reminded Argent of some of the children they brought into Stately House. Frightened by the pull of instincts they hadn’t learned to trust. Desperate to belong anywhere, to matter to anyone. Awed by their good fortune. Sure there must be some mistake. Cautious to give in. Helpless to resist.

  Argent enjoyed secrets and strategies, especially when they netted a prize. In large part, it’s why he’d taken on Tami and Ash. The Reaverson-Sunfletch courtship had the potential to redefine public opinion in America and—of greater personal importance—add strength to his ongoing campaign to protect crossers. All he had to do was maximize on an established relationship.