Cold Flame

by Susan Copperfield

  “I have a cage from the exterminator.”

  “Maybe I should come to the vet and pick them up. I bet I could convince those royals to pick up my babies from the vet, then I can pay for them myself, and you can be hidden better and do whatever it is panicking people like you do when shit hits the fan.”

  “I’m not concerned.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I’m only concerned your lusty prince might attempt to take you home with him if his empathy talent flares and he doesn’t know how to handle his overprotective instincts.”

  “You’re assuming a lot.”

  “He thinks you’re pretty. He remembers you at a somewhat healthy weight. You completely disappeared on him. You show up at least twenty pounds underweight and exhausted. I expect he’ll flare and become overprotective.”

  “I still think you’re assuming a lot and have your head in the clouds. We both need therapy. You’re suffering from delusions of grandeur while I’m concerned I’ll go along with any relocation plans willingly because he’s wearing jeans.”

  “Please try to limit your desperation for positive attention until I have a chance to evaluate the situation.”

  “Where are my babies? I can’t indulge in any such schemes until my babies are safe in my custody. I’ll make them take me to the vet. I really will. Who is my new vet, does he like rats? So help me, if he is mean to my babies…”

  “She. She does like rats, she’s pleased the babies aren’t being senselessly killed, and she was, admittedly, baffled I refused to have the adult females euthanized. Then I explained you were sensitive about rats. Her name is Dr. Tomastani, and she’s been tending to them for an hour. I’ll let her know about the flu vaccine.”

  “And make sure they’re treated for parasites and any potential infections. I’d rather not get a disease. And flea treatments. Don’t forget the flea treatments. The last thing I need is to pick up a contagious disease from my new pets.”

  “That’s already been taken care of. I’ll text you with the vet’s office address. It’s a bit of a drive because I wanted someone who was used to working with rats. Before she became a vet, Dr. Tomastani worked in medical research with lab rats. Your wild rats are a different species, but she did confirm your babies are less prone to cancers, just as you want for your pets.”

  While my day had already gone to hell, parts of it were turning around. “Okay. Thank you. I told them you were my rat guy,” I admitted.

  “I can work with being your rat guy, and I’m dressed the part. I wasn’t wearing one of my suits to an abandoned building for a rat extermination job.”

  I giggled at the mental image of professional Terry skittering around an abandoned building catching rats for me to keep as pets. “You deserve a raise. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please text me with the address.” I checked on the royals to discover they both watched me, and they’d already finished with their phone calls. “I need to go.”

  Hanging up, I returned my phone to my pocket and walked over to them. “That was my rat guy, and my babies are at a vet ready to be picked up, but I need to get cages for them. There’s more of them than I expected. They caught two adult females, and the mother is a high risk of eating the babies, so I have to keep the females separated from the babies. I won’t euthanize the two older rats because it’s not their fault they’re wild animals.” I bit my lip and debated on openly challenging the royals or begging for help getting my new babies everything they needed.

  “Well, I wanted to see some rats, so I guess I’m going to see what’s needed to keep pet rats. You up for a trip to a pet store, Hadrian?”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one. Sure. I cleared out five hours from my schedule with the possibility of needing the whole day to handle this matter. How’s your schedule?”

  “I had already cleared it for the day to handle matters here, so I’m good. Do you need to go anywhere else, Rachel?”

  “Anywhere that sells soy-based baby formula. Rats are biologically closer to humans than cats or dogs, so formulas meant for other animals don’t work as well with them. The pet store will have everything else. I have extra treats for the adults at my apartment, and when I run out, I’ll get more for them at the grocery store.”

  The royals exchanged glances, and I wondered what they were thinking. Ethan hesitated, but then he asked, “What treats do you give to rats?”

  “Cooked liver, carrots, walnuts in their shells, almonds in their shells, and things like that. I can show you when I get back to my apartment. Snookums and Flamingo would love to meet you while I’m making space for their new sisters. Snookums and Flamingo are pocket trained, so they’ll ride around in your jacket until you give them a piece of carrot. If you keep them in your pocket for longer than an hour, they get a better treat, but the type of treat is dependent on when they last had a walnut. Their diet has to be carefully managed so they don’t become unhealthy, and Snookums and Flamingo are getting old.”

  The royals stared at me, and with growing dismay, I realized I’d blabbered about my rats to an obsessive degree.

  Shit. At the rate I was going, Terry wouldn’t have anything to worry about. I’d scare off His Royal Highness of California by the end of the day.

  “And your rat guy…?” Ethan asked.

  “He helps with the rats,” I replied, grateful it wasn’t a lie. “If I can’t check in on them, he’ll take care of my babies.”

  Since I’d already made a mess of things, I challenged the prince with a glare.

  Ethan’s uncle considered me through narrowed eyes. “Will your work schedule need to be adapted around your rats?”

  “The babies will live in plastic eggs in my pocket for the first little while, and every three to four hours, I will have to take a break to feed them. They’ll get a nice, cozy nest when I’m home. Once they’re a little older, they’ll be able to stay at home and fend for themselves.”

  “You’re going to put your baby rats in plastic eggs, and you’re going to keep them in your pocket? You were serious about that?”

  I nodded. “They’re my responsibility, and they need to be kept warm. Close to me in my pocket is the best place for them, and the eggs have air holes for them and bedding so they’re comfortable while they’re hanging out with me. They’re really small at birth. At two weeks old, their eyes will be open, and they’ll be more active. I’ll start weaning them at four weeks, and they should be fully weaned within a week. They’re completely self-sufficient at six weeks old. But after two weeks old, they can stay at home, and I will be able to skip home during my lunch break to take care of them.”

  “What type of rats do you have?”

  “I don’t know what type my rat guy got for me, but Snookums and Flamingo are Norway rats. They’re small for their breed, but they’re really friendly because I handle them every day. I expect the ones I’m getting today will be roof rats; they’re smaller, and they’re often found in abandoned buildings. If I’m lucky, they’ll be Norway rats. I didn’t ask. I’m taking what I can get because they’re wild-caught rats.” I bounced on my toes, retrieved my phone, and checked for the text for the address, which had arrived safe and sound. “My vet’s name is Dr. Tomastani.”

  Ethan laughed. “That simplifies things. I know Dr. Tomastani. She’s the royal vet, but she does take public clients since we don’t have very many animals. She’s a good person to go to for any animal. Have your rats been vetted recently?”

  “I take them in every few months. My rat guy took the babies to Dr. Tomastani, so I guess I’ll be using her for Snookums and Flamingo.”

  “We can swing by your apartment for Snookums and Flamingo if you’d like her to do a quick check; her talent lets her do the basics without invasive equipment.”

  Terry would not be happy when he realized I’d gone into doting mother mode with my rats. Again. “That would be nice, thank you.”

  “Flip a coin for making arrangements, Hadrian?”

  My
boss rolled his eyes. “I’ll take care of it this time. My SUV is larger, and I have a feeling it’s going to be loaded with supplies and animals before we’re done today.”

  “And possibly luggage. Actually, I’ll have my agents tail you; we might need both vehicles. If the apartment is anywhere near as bad as I suspect, it’s not habitable,” Ethan announced.

  Why did everyone hate my apartment? Damn it. My poor, battered pride couldn’t handle much more of a beating. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s that bad,” my boss corrected. “I’ve seen the units they think are habitable. And according to your record, you’ve been staying in the furnished apartments, which means you have a dresser that is your current rat habitat, you probably have their supplies in half of its capacity, and your clothes likely are stored under your bed.”

  Well, shit. My boss had actually done his homework. “My rat guy does not like my apartment, either.”

  “Your rat guy is smart. Does he have a name?”

  I loved how my New Yorker nature gave me the skills to be the ultimate asshole—and dodge anything that might identify Terry as an RPS agent. “Yeah. The rat guy.”

  “What’s his name in your phone?” Ethan asked.

  I pulled out my phone, pulled up the contact list, and showed him the entry, unable to stop from grinning. “T. It’s short for the rat guy.”

  “You don’t know his name, do you?”

  I shrugged. “The rat guy works. And he came through. I have babies to retrieve.”

  My boss sighed. “Honestly, I’m wondering why you wanted to adopt rats right after moving here into a very small apartment.”

  To my delight, I had a truthful answer for him. “They are an excuse to move somewhere bigger, and without that excuse, I’d keep the forty-minute walk to work.”

  “They placed you forty minutes from here?” Ethan snapped.

  I recoiled at his sharp tone, sucking in a breath.

  “Ethan,” my boss warned.

  “Sorry. That’s an unreasonable distance. I want to see the original hiring arrangement.”

  “They were going to give her to me for three days a week. When I was notified there was a good candidate available for the work, I wasn’t told what her second job would be.”

  “There isn’t a second job,” I murmured, redirecting my gaze to the safety of the floor.

  “I’d guessed that much when you didn’t hesitate to tell me what realistic hours you’d have to put in to do the research project. Knowing what the pay scale is, what they want to charge for that apartment you’re in, and how the system is currently set up, I’m of the opinion they were hoping this job would be the one to break you. I’ll go get the SUVs coordinated and make sure the RPS agents don’t have a meltdown from unexpected shopping trips today. Ethan, you may as well get on the phone with your physician and find out what to feed Rachel. Assume the worst, because I’ve seen enough people in this stage of the refugee process roll through my door to accept that’s what we’re probably dealing with. Try not to get her sick.”

  Ethan sighed. “What do you usually have for breakfast, Rachel?”

  I usually had breakfast? I refused to meet his gaze, instead opting to examine the entry to the archive, pondering how best to escape.

  “She probably only has dinner, and something filling but unhealthy, and drinks water to compensate. No coffee, because coffee is expensive. My bet is, if she has anything that’s not water, it’s tea because it can be bought in bulk for cheap,” my boss said before getting on his phone and wandering off, issuing orders to someone in a curt tone.

  “Is he right?” Ethan asked.

  “Macaroni and cheese is my usual staple, and should you say anything about my choice of neon-colored food, I will light your hair on fire.”

  “That would be a tragedy, so I’ll refrain from comment.” Ethan dug out his phone, and when I glanced in his direction, he glowered at his screen. Finally, he dialed a number. “Hey, Martin. Can you put me through to a royal physician in North Dakota? I have a dietary question.”

  North Dakota? Was North Dakota the expert on dealing with walking disasters? Terry had seemed to think so.

  After a few minutes, Ethan said, “Hello. I’m Ethan from California. There’s a woman in an unfortunate dietary situation, and I need advice on what to feed her until I can get someone in to handle it personally.” He listened, and his mouth twitched. “Worse, unfortunately. There was no beef stew to provide variance. Her pet rats seem to eat better than she does, and from my understanding of the situation, they are treated like rodent royalty. If I were to guess, she has been cutting into her budget to make sure they’re healthy. No, I do not recommend telling that to her, ma’am. She may light you on fire for daring to question her rat parenting choices. She’s adopting newborn rats today, and I’ve determined that anyone who comes between her and her rats will not be happy with the result. I’ve met my fair share of obsessive pet caretakers, and she has all the benchmarks of being the kind to use excessive force in regards to those in her care.”

  Well, Ethan of California had functional eyes in his skull and knew how to use them. I wasn’t sure if I appreciated his phrasing of the situation, but he wasn’t wrong, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Give me a moment, I’ll ask. Rachel, when was the last time you had any form of vegetable?”

  “I add peas to my macaroni and cheese, if you must know. Not every night, but often enough.”

  “Peas, added to her macaroni and cheese,” Ethan relayed. “Butter? Milk?”

  “Both.” The costs of butter and milk hurt, but I hated macaroni and cheese without them, so I viewed it as a necessary expenditure.

  “She says both. I’m not sure I want to ask that question. I have a feeling we both won’t like the answer.”

  “I’ll save you from having to ask, then.” Then, because I could be a bitch and had my fair share of New York pride, I raised my voice enough the person on the other end of the line might be able to hear me. “Outside of milk and butter, I’m essentially a vegetarian. It’s been a while since I’ve had any meat products. It’s too expensive. I drink tea. No coffee. It’s too expensive. I’m fully aware I have a poor diet, and I’m careful to manage my general exertion levels because my caloric intake is generally insufficient. My nutrient intake is definitely insufficient, but I’m a part of the refugee program. I only have access to emergency medical care, and the system is rigged against us. I refuse to apologize for that. My rats make me happy, and I choose to feed them better, but even if I didn’t have rats, I wouldn’t have enough money to buy anything better anyway. So why shouldn’t I have my pets? They make me happy. Better food isn’t going to make me happy.”

  “Did you catch that? Good. She’d probably light my hair on fire if I relayed any part of that inaccurately. So, what can I feed her without making her ill? Hmm. All right. I’ll talk to my father.” Ethan blinked. “You want to talk to my father? I mean, if you want to, that’s fine. Her name is Rachel Modesto. She lives in San Francisco. I’ll be with her for the rest of the day, so she’ll be easy to find. She’s part of an important research team, so I need her healthy and functional. While I’d like to take her somewhere for a good breakfast, if I did that, all I’d do is make her miserable.”

  His Royal Highness of California was a wise man. Considerate, too.

  I’d have to reevaluate his status as the ruler of my personal hell, although my situation still remained rather hellish.

  The lusty prince wasn’t supposed to be in the picture. I was supposed to think about checking the internet to find out who he was every now and then, content with my ignorance. Then, since I didn’t know who he was, I could’ve kept teasing Terry about kidnapping a Californian prince.

  Then again, my kidnapping threats had likely driven my RPS agent crazy, as he’d known the identity of the lusty prince.

  I needed to stop thinking of Ethan as the lusty prince. It wasn’t good for my health.

  “All r
ight. Thank you, ma’am.” Ethan hung up, and he raised a brow, looking me over. “That was the first time in my life I’ve had a royal physician scream at me on the phone, threatening to take my head if I even thought about adjusting your diet—or doing anything—until she could personally come visit and take care of the situation herself.”

  That didn’t bode well for me—or for him. “But why?”

  “I’m the heir. When I ask for dietary information—or anything—for someone else, it’s treated as a personal request from me. I don’t ask often, and North Dakota has unfortunately become accustomed to handling issues of this nature. Now that problems like this have been better identified, they’re addressed promptly. Well, poor diets aren’t really an issue usually. I am concerned about the refugee program. The intent was to make a challenge for applicants, not to destroy their general health and wellbeing. That’s unacceptable. So, I’m making it my responsibility to fix the problem, and I’m starting with you. Hey, Hadrian?”

  Ethan’s uncle strolled over, his phone still pressed to his ear. “What is it?”

  Something about Ethan’s eyes changed, leaving me with the impression he played some sort of game and needed to be at his sharpest. Intrigued, I waited for him to finish his mental preparations.

  He glanced at me before asking, “How’d she score? Is her score why she’s been treated like this?”

  I filed his behavior away as unusual and a little strange. Why had he hesitated before asking? I doubted I’d ever understand men.

  “She aced the entrance exam.”

  Blinking and with his mouth hanging open, Ethan lifted his hand, scratched his cheek, and then pointed at me. “Her?”

  Hmph. Jerk of a lusty prince. I wanted to snap my fingers in his face to make it clear I had everything he needed in a woman with a brain except looks. My lack of refinement in looks didn’t bother me quite as much when I understood he appreciated intellect.