by Laura Taylor
Heron seemed confused. But there was also another expression on her face, one that Tansy couldn’t quite place. “Won’t your parents be worried about you?” she asked awkwardly.
“My mum’s dead,” Tansy said, the world seeming suddenly surreal. “But my father… I’m not going home.”
“Why not?” There was that strange expression again. Tansy thought perhaps it was an odd combination of hope and fear.
She wasn’t supposed to answer the question. It was against the rules. It would be such a disappointment to her father, and people would think she was a terrible daughter, not raised to be a proper young lady, and he would take her computer away, and… “My father’s having friends over tonight,” Tansy said, feeling dizzy. She felt like she’d come to the edge of a great cliff, and for the first time, instead of being afraid to fall, she was inclined to jump, and see if perhaps she had wings after all.
“I can’t keep being nice to them,” she said, feeling cold and empty inside. Completely unexpectedly, tears burst from her eyes, a sudden flood that ran down her face, heedless of her commands that they stop. “I always have to be nice to his friends, and I can’t do it any more. I just can’t…” The very idea of it brought a fresh wave of terror. Tansy didn’t have the faintest idea where she would go. Or where she would find something to eat. She just knew she couldn’t go back. She glanced up at Heron.
The look of rage on Heron’s face stopped her cold. She must think Tansy was being horribly rude, saying bad things about her father’s friends, and behaving not at all like the proper young woman she’d been taught to be. But an instant later the look was gone, and Heron cleared her throat. “Well… perhaps you could come home with me, instead,” she said slowly.
The idea was at once tantalising and terrifying. Tansy remembered the weekends she’d spent at her aunt’s house, big, tasty dinners and her own bed to sleep in and long walks through the woods… but what if there were other people who lived with Heron?
“Do you have a husband? Or children?” While Tansy didn’t fancy the idea of a man in the house, living with other children would be fun. Someone she could make friends with.
“No, I don’t, but I live in a very big house with some very good people. Some of them are about your age. We’re not truly related, but we see each other as family.”
Family? Tansy shook her head. She knew all about what ‘family’ did to each other… “No. I don’t want to live with men.”
Heron seemed at a loss for words, and Tansy wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Sweetie… not all men are like your father’s friends,” Heron said gently. “No one in our house would do anything bad to you. Ever. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
Tansy considered that. “Okay…” she agreed reluctantly. “But what about my computer!” she remembered suddenly. “I have to go back and get it.”
“We have lots of computers in our house,” Heron said quickly. “Or we could buy you a new one, if you like. And clothes, and anything else you need.”
“I can cook,” Tansy said suddenly. “I don’t have much money, so I can’t pay rent, but I can cook. And do laundry. And-”
“Whoa, hold on. You don’t have to do anything like that. You’re still in school, so the only thing you should be worried about is doing your school work.”
“But… I have to do something to help around the house. Otherwise they’ll want…” Perhaps they would want some other form of payment for their kindness. Tansy shuddered at the thought.
“Well…” Heron said, seeming to think the idea over. “You’ve said you’re very good with computers. And we always need help with computer related things. You could help to maintain our network and install new programs, and that sort of thing. How does that sound?”
“But my father isn’t well,” Tansy said, feeling suddenly forlorn as she realised this crazy plan could never work. “I have to stay and help him. He can’t look after the house by himself, and I have to… He needs me. I can’t just leave…”
“Tansy,” Heron said, her voice suddenly firm, and Tansy noted a touch of anger in her tone. “You listen to me. You do not owe him anything. Parents are supposed to look after their children, not the other way around.”
Tansy stopped, and looked at Heron, eyes narrowed, suddenly seeing her in a new light. “Who are you?” she asked carefully. “Why are you here? Because you seem like magic. Like in the story books. You just appear out of nowhere and take me away, and make everything better. Are you magic?”
That odd look came over Heron’s face again, hope, and fear, and a strange determination that Tansy didn’t understand. “We have a certain kind of magic, yes,” Heron replied.
“And if I go with you, I’ll never have to come back here?”
“You’ll never have to come back,” Heron confirmed. And that made up Tansy’s mind.
“Then yes. I’ll go with you.”
Heron’s mind was racing as she led Tansy to her car, a small blue sedan that the Den used for ‘civilian’ purposes. This first meeting was supposed to be a simple get-to-know-you, a brief assessment to determine whether it was worth spending more time and energy on this young woman. Taking her home with her, all but kidnapping her, for all that Tansy was coming willingly, was a gross breach of Den protocol and an outrageous risk to security.
Baron was going to kill her.
But what other option did she have? She could hardly just leave the girl here, not when she had nowhere to go tonight. And after her admission that there was a handful of men waiting at home to do unspeakable things to her, the idea of talking her into going home in order to buy the Den more time was out of the question.
No, Heron admitted to herself, as she started the engine and pulled away from the curb. This was the best option, perhaps the only option that would allow Heron to finish the day with her conscience intact. And for all that he would object to the impromptu change in plans, Heron was sure that once she’d explained herself to Baron, he’d see that she was right.
CHAPTER FOUR
Heron pulled into the carpark at a supermarket on the way back to the estate. Tansy had been asking a thousand questions about her new home, who else Heron lived with, how big the house was, how she would go to school, and Heron had done her best to answer each one. She’d explained that she intended to home school Tansy for the rest of her education, as she had done for Kwan and Aaron, the two boys who were just a year or two older than Tansy. She’d described the estate and the manor, the huge stone house that had stood for hundreds of years, the wide lawn and thick forest, and told her a little about the people who lived there.
Now, she led Tansy into the supermarket, the flood of questions thankfully at a pause while they turned their attention to more urgent matters. Clothes were the first order of business. Underwear, socks, pyjamas, a pair of trainers, Tansy having scowled at the selection of more feminine footwear on offer, and then Heron asked her to pick out a few sets of clothes, jeans or skirts, tops, a jumper. In a day or two, Heron told her, they would go online and order a full new wardrobe for her, but for now, she would need some things to get her through the next few days.
But that was where the excursion ground to a sudden and puzzling halt. She led Tansy to the women’s section, and waited… and waited… “Is anything wrong?” she asked gently, as Tansy stood and stared at the racks of clothes.
“What sort of clothes do you want me to wear?” Tansy asked, sounding both annoyed and defeated.
“This isn’t about what I want. You can choose the things that you like.”
Tansy seemed confused by that. “But I don’t… I can’t…” She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face. “I don’t want to be rude.”
“You’re not being rude, sweetheart,” Heron said, trying to be supportive, and feeling rather out of her depth. Though she’d done a little reading on the effects of childhood abuse over the past few days, she’d expected
to have a lot more time to wrap her head around Tansy’s experiences than she’d had so far. “Please, tell me what the problem is, and I can help you solve it.”
Tansy peered up at the racks of clothing again. “I don’t like any of this,” she said, and from the distress in her voice, it seemed she was genuinely upset about the clothes, rather than just being fussy.
“Okay, well… what sort of clothes do you like?” Heron asked, not sure what to suggest.
“Not dresses. Or skirts,” Tansy said, turning away from the nearest racks.
“Okay, what about trousers? Jeans?”
Tansy pulled out a pair of trousers, an elegant cut in beige. “No.”
Heron held up a pair of jeans. “What about these?”
“I’m not allowed to wear jeans.”
Ah. One of her father’s decrees, no doubt. And while Heron wanted to contradict the strict rules, she didn’t want to badmouth Tansy’s father, not when the girl probably still felt a strong sense of loyalty towards him. “Well… lots of people in our house wear jeans. And I think it would be perfectly okay if you wanted to try it.”
Tansy didn’t look entirely convinced, but she glanced at the pair Heron was holding, nonetheless. “No,” she said finally. “These are boring. I want…” She wandered over to the next rack. “I don’t know. Something nice.”
Heron looked over the racks, and picked up a pair of grey trousers in a stylish cut. “These are nice.”
She watched as Tansy forced a smile onto her face. It came out looking more like a grimace. “Okay.”
Nope, apparently not. “You don’t like them, do you?” Heron asked gently.
Tansy shrugged. Heron put the trousers back on the rack. “Um… okay, what about leggings?” she offered.
Tansy cringed. “No.”
“What sort of clothes did you wear at home?”
“My father chooses all my clothes. He makes me wear dresses, in really boring colours.”
“What sort of colours would you like?”
Tansy folded her arms, glaring at the clothing racks. “I don’t know…”
Heron looked around, not sure what she was looking for, but the few clues Tansy had given her were a starting point, at least. She found a jumper in yellow, bright and cheerful, but not overly feminine. “How about this?”
Tansy looked the jumper over. “Not bad,” she said hesitantly. “It’s not as boring as the others, but it’s still not…” She peered at the rack over Heron’s shoulder, and a look of glee lit her face. She darted around her and snatched up a jumper, bright pink with a sparkly flower embroidered on the front. “This!” she said emphatically, holding it up in front of her. “Is this okay?” she asked suddenly, her enthusiasm fading to be replaced with a nervous uncertainty.
“That’s a fine choice,” Heron said firmly, and Tansy’s smile returned. The jumper seemed like a good fit, so Heron was surprised when she put it back and pulled out a larger size… and then rejected that one as well, settling on one that was two sizes too large. “This one,” she confirmed, clutching the jumper tightly.
“Are you sure you need it in that size?” Heron asked. “I think it’s going to be too big.”
Tansy shook her head solemnly. “Nope. It’s perfect.”
Heron opened her mouth to argue… and then thought better of it. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in Tansy’s mind, but given her background, it wasn’t a surprise that she might have some issues surrounding her body image. So if she wanted clothes that were too large, Heron didn’t see the need to make an issue out of it. “Okay, well, let’s pick a few other things as well.” Based on Tansy’s first choice, she bypassed the ‘ladies’ section and headed for the ‘girls’ clothes. She picked up a pair of jeans with colourful flowers embroidered down the sides. “What about these?”
“Nice,” Tansy agreed, once more swapping the clothes out for a bigger size. “And this,” she added, pulling out a bright aqua t-shirt with a dolphin on it. She added it to the trolley, then stood back, a look of satisfaction on her face.
“Okay,” Heron prompted her. “What’s next?”
Tansy’s cheerful look vanished. “Um… I don’t know. We go home?”
Heron laughed. “No, sweetie, I meant what other clothes do you want.”
“But I have a full set of clothes now,” Tansy said, pointing to the trolley, looking nervous all over again. “I don’t need more. And I have pyjamas and shoes and… It would be too much. And I don’t have any money to pay for it, and…”
It wasn’t the first time she’d brought up the issue of payment, and Heron shuddered to think what she might be expecting to have to give in exchange for the clothes. But for all her compassion with Tansy’s situation, Heron had little experience with the kind of psychological issues she was dealing with, and didn’t know how best to handle the situation.
“Um… well, how about you pick out one more outfit,” she encouraged her. “Because when this one gets washed, you’ll need another one to wear.” That would get them through a few days, at least, and then they could order more clothes online once they all had more of a handle on what was going on.
As Tansy hesitantly picked out more clothes, Heron tried to make sense of her choice of clothing. If her father had made her wear dresses, then it was a fair call for her to want to avoid them. And if she’d been restricted to drab navies or greys, then the desire for a little colour was understandable. But Tansy’s choices were all in bright, almost garish colours, and bore childish pictures of flowers or cute animals. They were the sort of clothes an eight year old with a princess fixation might choose, a far cry from the preferences of a normal, fashion-conscious sixteen-year-old.
But then she thought back to Tansy’s offer to do laundry for the house, or to cook, and she had to wonder for how long she’d been forced into the role of mature adult, dressing as a woman, not a teenage girl, doing the housework, taking care of her father. Was this simple rebellion from the status quo, Heron wondered, as she smiled and nodded at Tansy’s latest choice of a pink t-shirt with little unicorns embroidered into the fabric. Or was it a symptom of a deeper problem? After being forced to mature far quicker than she should have, could Tansy be trying to make up for a lost childhood, reclaiming a girlish innocence that had been stolen from her far too early?
After she’d chosen a second outfit, Tansy decided she needed to use the toilet. While Heron was waiting, she pulled out her phone and sent a brief text message to Baron. They tried to keep such things short and lacking detail, knowing that phones could be tapped and information had a way of going astray, so the message simply contained three words: Incoming. ETA 8:30pm. He would understand the message, and take appropriate precautions to prepare for their arrival.
When Tansy came back, they headed for the toiletries section, choosing a toothbrush, comb, shampoo and then Tansy glanced at the makeup section. Heron was surprised she’d be interested in that sort of thing… but then Tansy reached out and picked up a large, plastic bracelet from below the makeup display. It was gaudy, bright pink, thick as Heron’s thumb; the sort of thing that would be the treasured possession of a five year old child. But Tansy loved it, so, after a nervous, hopeful glance at Heron, who responded with a bright smile and a nod, it went into the trolley, along with a necklace of bright plastic ‘gems’ and two more bracelets in various colours.
Heron was heading for the checkout with the trolley when she suddenly realised she’d lost Tansy. She glanced back and found the girl staring at the toy display they’d just passed.
Tentatively, Tansy reached out and picked up a toy; a polar bear, pure white, with a wide grin on its face. She glanced at Heron, and put the bear back. Chewed her lip. Stared longingly at the bear on the shelf. Then turned and followed Heron, leaving the bear where it was.
Fighting back a sudden urge to cry, Heron went back and picked up the bear, adding it to the trolley of purchases without a word. And then, with a lump in her throat, she led the way towar
ds the checkout.
Baron stared at his phone, utterly flabbergasted. ‘Incoming. ETA 8:30pm.’ It was the ‘incoming’ that was the problem, the Den’s universal code for when a non-shifter was coming onto the estate. The entire place went into lockdown, every secret door shut, every sensitive file hidden, and absolutely every single shifter in human form, no exceptions whatsoever. If they had enough time, they went so far as to hide the dog beds and dishes and vacuum up the fur… but half an hour wasn’t nearly enough time to sanitise the manor. What the fuck was Heron thinking?
With a shake of his head, Baron raced out to the upstairs landing and hit the button marked ‘Fire Alarm’. Immediately, the large clock mounted on the front of the manor began to chime, playing the ‘quarter to the hour’ melody, though it was already 7:53pm. If any outsider asked, they simply told them that the clock was broken and sometimes went off at the wrong time… but in reality, it was a signal to the entire Den to get in human form NOW. It could be heard in the furthest corners of the estate, and was the quickest, most reliable way to effect a lockdown, when at times, seconds mattered.
“CAROLINE!” Baron bellowed from the top of the stairs, needing swift answers as to what the fuck was going on. After having Silas tail Tansy for the past two weeks, Baron had finally given Caroline permission to arrange a face-to-face meeting with the girl, allowing her to run the operation for the most part, and the last he’d heard, Heron had gone off this afternoon to meet the girl in a park near her house. How they’d gone from a simple meet and greet to a full scale lockdown was beyond him.
Caroline came bolting out of the library, no doubt more due to the clock chiming than from Baron’s yell, but she hurried up the stairs anyway, ready to kill whatever it was that was causing them trouble.