by Sonja Bair
“Hey, girl. Guess what? Mom finally couldn’t take it anymore so she broke down and bought a plane ticket out here. She arrives this afternoon.”
Mom had lasted much longer than I thought she would. But actually, I was glad she was coming; I was getting sick of juggling the crisis. “Good. We need her help. I’m going to work on schoolwork today. Can you, Drew, Alrik, and the Yus handle the search for Jia today? And yes, I’m taking Philip as a werewolf bodyguard with me.”
“I think we can handle it. It’s probably a good idea to have you out of the search today. You have been targeted a few too many times for my liking.”
Next, I multitasked by putting on clothes and calling my mother. She was already at the airport waiting for the Chicago-to-Phoenix plane, the first of two she would need to take to get here. I updated her on my take about Jia and the interactions with Meng and Wen. Business calls completed, I walked into the living room. Alrik was on his own business call, talking to someone in Swedish about the rising stock futures. I jotted a quick explanation of where I was going and left it on the kitchen counter for him to find.
The smell of bacon greeted me at David’s house, somehow managing to permeate the Eagle’s windows before I even left the car. Mouth watering and stomach rumbling, I headed inside. David was busy in the kitchen, letting the bacon sizzle on an electric griddle while he whipped up some fancy omelet-looking things. Philip was washing some dirty dishes. Classic rock kept the scene lively.
“That’s how I like my men. Barefoot, in the kitchen, and making me breakfast,” I said with a smile.
“We live to serve,” Philip said with a flourish. David saluted a hello with his spatula.
Pedro rounded the corner. Unlike Philip and David, my presence didn’t seem to generate an instant smile. “Or we serve to live,” he said with a raised eyebrow. The tone was sardonic, but the truth underlying it was serious. I refused to let him to set a sour tone to the morning.
“Or you could live to surf,” I replied in a sweet voice. “Since you have moved to California.”
David and Philip both groaned in mock pain. Pedro didn’t say anything, just grabbed some orange juice out of the fridge. It appeared my sense of humor and Pedro hadn’t come to an understanding yet. Plus, I was getting the vibe that he wasn’t as accepting of my intrusion in the pack as the others. That’s okay. I wasn’t accepting it either.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“Set the table. The silverware is in the second drawer down.”
We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, letting the Rolling Stones make the noise. Even if I was going to bow out of the pack as soon as possible, it was a nice feeling to be mostly surrounded by supportive people. I hadn’t had that experience since moving to San Luis Obispo. Relationships take time, but somehow, being part of a pack jumpstarted that process. That thought made me want to know more about Pedro, since we hadn’t gotten off to the best start.
“Pedro, I know some of David and Philip’s background, but I don’t know much about you. What did you do in Santa Fe?” I asked.
Pedro didn’t say anything for a moment. He straightened an already straight plate on the table. “I worked at a juvenile detention center for boys,” he said after a moment. “I was a behavioral therapist.”
“Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that,” I said.
“I got in some trouble as a kid. Luckily, the pack was able to pull me through the bad times. I wanted to help kids in tough spots who didn’t have a safety net like mine.”
“Pedro is being modest,” David said. “What he should actual say is that he survived growing up in one of the rottenest werewolf families I’ve ever known. Frankly, when his dad finally died, the whole pack rejoiced, including me.”
Pedro shrugged. “But that didn’t excuse my choices to get into drugs or the gang. I hurt a lot of people including myself from those bad decisions. The pack hauled me back from the brink of self-destruction.” He looked straight at me. “The Santa Fe pack isn’t all bad. Robert and Maria have always been hard-asses, but they also provided order. Werewolves can easily get out of control if there isn’t good top-down leadership. They just went too far. Plus, the pack is more than the Alphas. The other werewolves were soul of the pack and overall, most of them were good people.”
I don’t think Pedro knew how much sadness rolled off him when he was speaking.
David clapped a hand on Pedro’s shoulder. “The pack isn’t dead yet, Pedro. Robert and Maria went too far. So they must be stopped, but the pack will reemerge stronger after they are dead.”
Pedro said nothing. The silence stretched long.
“So what are some of your techniques when dealing with teens? I’m always looking for good ideas for my classroom,” I asked. After finding common ground, Pedro and I had an easier time connecting. It turned out that Pedro was well-spoken and considerate, once I got past his cool reserve. I started to pick his brain on how to make a connection with someone who’s not interested. He had some great stories of helping some very troubled youth, especially those who had been in gangs, to find a different purpose in life. I tucked some of his stories into my brain, always on the lookout for sage advice for uncooperative people, be it students or supernaturals.
We determined who was doing dishes based on the coin toss tournament. It was my idea, but I ended up losing. My dad was wrong and, the advice tails never fails only works about fifty percent of the time. David volunteered to help me.
“Tell me about your job at the USN,” said David as he manned the sink. I was still bringing dishes from the dining room into the kitchen.
“Why? What brought that up?”
“I could see your wheels turning when you were talking with Pedro. You were substituting juvenile delinquents with supernatural delinquents and playing out USN scenarios in your head.”
“Yeah, I was. Good read.”
“So tell me about it.”
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“What were your duties? What kind of supernaturals did you deal with?”
I paused a moment, thinking back. “I basically created my own job. I had been working with the USN since high school. I started by doing secretarial work, filing, organizing, and answering phones. Soon, people started to pass phone calls from irate supernaturals to me. I could usually work past their anger and get to the real issues why they called. It was easy, really,” I said with a shrug. “Listen to them, find some way to be supportive, and mix humor in. Be flexible, but stick to your guns on the big issues. Anyway, I started to move from answering phones to helping other USN employees broker deals and handle uncooperative supernaturals. By the time I graduated college, I was traveling around the country, and sometimes internationally. The USN started a push to get more buy-in from different groups of supernaturals. We were aware of many groups who were hanging around the periphery but weren’t active in the Union. I signed up to lead an initiative to get these Associate members more involved. It was fun. I traveled around the world and met some great people. For the most part, supernaturals were receptive to the idea; they just needed to be convinced that we weren’t out to strip them of their powers.”
“Tell me about some of these supernaturals. I don’t have a good education about what other supernaturals lurk out there in the wide world,”
I huffed in annoyance. “Well, first of all, most of them aren’t lurking. You make it sound like there’s a bunch of swamp monsters out there.” I laughed. “Okay, bad example. There actually is a group of swamp monsters in the Amazon basin. They are a fairly nasty group. But a better example would be the Apuseni of the Western Carpathian mountains. They can see perfectly in the dark and live quite comfortably in caves. They had been persecuted for centuries by naturals living in the area, out of fear more than anything. Their group was barely surviving and only on the fringes of society. I was able to get in touch with their leaders and convince them to join the USN. They in turn received help from the
USN about how to mitigate fear and misunderstanding about their powers. The Apuseni now live in relative peace with their neighbors and have started to actually feel some pride in their abilities.”
“And what sort of interaction did werewolves have with the USN?” David handed me a freshly washed pan to dry.
“Limited. The contacts for the werewolves would be in Colorado, right?” I looked to him for confirmation and he nodded. “We were in communication via email and phone calls. They weren’t interested in joining the USN, but they were on my list of to be convinced.”
“Good luck with that one. Werewolves aren’t known to be party people.”
“And you haven’t seen me do my job. They would be mere putty in my hands,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder with over-the-top confidence.
He laughed and flicked some soapy water at me. “Of anyone, I would place my money on you.”
By this time, I was drying the dishes in the dish rack, so I was appropriately armed for retaliation. The crack of the damp towel against his bare legs was highly satisfying—at least to me.
David winced in a really bad imitation of pain. “Ouch! That was uncalled for. While this...” and he reached over and scooped up a handful of bubbles, “...is completely called for.”
I dodged most of the bubbles, but some landed, of all places, in my ear. Why are wet objects in ears one of the most disgusting feelings ever? I let out a squeak of disgust, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and tried to mop up the dishwater leaking out of my ear. By then, David was laughing so hard, he was holding his side.
Pedro wandered into the kitchen for a coffee refill. “Ahh. Young love,” he said in a mocking tone. And the playful mood was effectively killed. For that jerk move, I rearmed and towel-smacked Pedro across the butt. Hard.
Chapter 21
Philip and I entered my classroom. The room was stuffy and hot, so the first thing I did was open all the windows and prop open the door to get the cross breeze. The wind felt good. I still had an experiment set up on the lab benches since I had run out of time before leaving on Friday, so I set Philip cleaning the glassware and storing equipment. While working, he started reminiscing about his time in high school. As a kid, he had always been slightly overweight and teased relentlessly for it. I listened in sympathy, but this was why I had a passion for being a high school teacher—love it or hate it, high school is a pivotal part of life. And because of stories like Philip’s, I try hard to make my classroom a safe and enjoyable place for students.
I made a list of things I had to accomplish and organized them from most dreaded to least dreaded and started working at the top of the list, which was grading lab reports. Life would be much rosier when those time-sucking assignments were completed. I took a deep breath and zoned into grading world. Only after finishing two of the three classes did I allow myself to reemerge. Philip was done cleaning the room and was reading a nursing publication at a student desk.
“So if you were Jia,” I said abruptly, “what would you do?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, tossing the journal onto the desk and leaning back in his chair.
“So it seems as if she has gone crazy and is using Dante’s Inferno to direct her actions. She currently is either at the level in Hell of violence or fraud. What would you do if you were a psychopathic Chinese woman looking to commit either an act of violence or fraud?” I asked.
“Well, seeing as I often think along the lines of a psychopathic Chinese woman, let me consider what I would do…” He paused and looked up at the ceiling as if he could discern the answer in the dots on the tiles. “If she is about to do violence, it could be anything. Pick something and hurt it somehow. I don’t think we could guess what she would do there. On the other hand, if it she were at the fraud level, it might be easier to track her.”
“Should we hang around the retirement homes and see who gets an e-mail about a Nigerian prince with inheritance problems?” I asked.
“No,” said Philip, continuing to stare at the ceiling tiles. “That isn’t a good idea. How do you define fraud anyway?”
I attempted a definition, but I couldn’t get specific enough, so I turned to the Internet and looked it up. “Wrongful or criminal deception intended to result in financial or personal gain. Hmm. That’s something that takes time to commit. It’s not as easy as burning down a church.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds, both thinking. Philip spoke up first. “How about if she herself doesn’t commit fraud, but she punishes those that do? Would that fit the description of how she would act?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. And if so, who would she attack?”
Philip returned my shrug. “Dirty politicians? Shady evangelists? False advertisers? Another point to consider is that these last few attacks have focused around you. Have you been committing any fraud lately?”
I balked. “I have many flaws, but I really don’t think I commit much fraud.”
At that very moment, one of the fluorescent tubes lighting the classroom flickered and hissed. The bulb emitted a loud pop, flashed, and went dark.
I jumped in my seat and looked at Philip in confusion. “Was that supposed to be some sort of sign?”
“You’re the school teacher. You know more about foreshadowing than I do.”
“If that was foreshadowing, the meaning was lost on me.” I said. “But maybe it means I should get this last batch of lab reports graded.” I pulled the final class’s papers toward me and grabbed my grading pen. Philip gave a half-smile and returned to reading his professional journal.
About an hour later, I had enough work done to be prepared for the week ahead. I stretched my arms above my head, enjoying the cracking sensation down my back. When I stuck my head out of the classroom to check on him, Philip nodded in my direction and handed me the phone.
“Hey, David. How’s it going?” I asked.
“We seem to be playing a game of hide-and-seek with Maria and Robert. We keep picking up their trail, and then it disappears. They are definitely still around, but they are doing a good job of evading us. Luckily, they seem to be staying on the opposite side of town from you, but still, keep Philip close. He’s a good person to have at your back during a fight. Any news about Jia?”
“No. Philip and I were talking about it, though. One new path we might explore is to figure out what would constitute fraud for her and try to beat her to the punch. Do you have any ideas of fraudulence around San Luis?”
“Fraudulence. Hmm, nothing offhand, but I’ll keep thinking on it,” he said.
“I got a text that my mother landed at the airport a few minutes ago. I’m meeting her and then driving with her out to my sister’s place tonight. Do you want to come?” I asked.
“Thanks, but no. I need to keep after Robert and Maria. Stay safe.”
“You too.” I said and handed the phone back to Philip.
***
Elin got the height from my dad, but we both got our super fair coloring from my mother. Ambassador Alma took pride in never having to dye her hair to hide any grey. Elin and I refrain from telling her that most people assumed her hair had turned white with age. She may be short like I am, but somehow she can move through a crowd without bumping into anyone; people just part in front of her. That sense of presence has helped her through many tight spots when she faced down supernaturals twice as big. In the middle of a brawl, she can merely stand up and raise an eyebrow, and people start behaving. At least that is what happened when Elin and I would get in brawls when we were kids, and I had always imagined her doing the same in the heated sessions she attends at the USN. At the airport, she had charmed and bullied her way into getting a rental car even though the kid behind the desk originally told her they were sold out. I have a kind of fascinated horror and respect at the extent of her chutzpa.
Even though I had offered to drive her and drop her off at Elin’s, she preferred to have her own means of transportation. She told me plainly that she wasn’t going to be s
itting around, waiting for someone to tote her from place to place. Jia didn’t stand a chance against the persistence of my mother.
When we got to the ranch, Elin, my mom, and I had an emotional reunion. It had been far too long since we had all been together. Even though my mother might be tough and driven on the outside, she always made her love for her daughters well known. From her, I have learned that strong leadership and tenderness do not have to be mutually exclusive.
After the hugs and happy tears, we all sat down at Elin’s dining room table with glasses of iced tea, and my mother switched into the role of Ambassador Alma. She grilled us on all the details of the Jia saga. No detail was too small to miss her attention. She filled Elin and me in on some of the details from the Sun/Moon tribe that we had not heard. Meng and Wen were not only teachers to Qiang and Jia, but were tribe leaders. Qiang and Jia were being trained to take over the position next. In the past, Sun/Moon couples had taken leadership roles in the Chinese government and were known for their wisdom and guidance. In the last hundred years since Communism took over, the tribe was exiled and persecuted. It grew smaller and smaller almost to the point of extinction. With the relaxation of some of the communist controls, their numbers and influence were, bit by bit, starting to grow again. Many of the tribal hopes for the future were pinned on Jia and Qiang, and his death was a major blow to the tribe in many ways. My mother shook her head, a look of sadness in her eyes. Any loss to the supernatural world affected my mother deeply. She saw it as decrease in the wonderful human diversity, much like the loss of a native species of bird was a strike against the diversity of nature. Of course, not all supernaturals were as peaceful and wise as the Sun/Moon tribe. Some supernaturals could be cutthroat and nasty. Would the world be a safer and more pleasant place without them? It was a moral question I hadn’t answered for myself yet.
My mother switched from talking about the Sun/Moon tribe into Alva politics. One of the Flock Elders had died a few months ago and was yet to be replaced. Betting odds were on my Aunt Tuva, but some Alva were upset by what they perceived as too much power concentrating in our family because my great-uncle was also a Flock Elder. My mother thought it was nonsense. The power was headed to the smartest, most capable Alva, so of course it would go to our family, she said. I snorted quietly into my iced tea. Elin caught my eye and gave a very teenage eye roll.