WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

  “I didn’t steal you,” she argued. “I like to think I rescued you.”

  “And I like to think I’m rescuing you,” Clark approached his wife with deliberate steps.

  “No,” Sher backed away.

  Clark nodded sadly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you strong.”

  Sher was stopped by Woodford’s bed. She caught herself before she fell on him. Woodford raised his head.

  Clark wrapped one arm around his trapped wife. “A hug every day from all of us! You’ll be the most powerful witch in Foothills!”

  “Damn Gamma Subject.”

  “I’m Theta,” Clark corrected, squeezing tightly and holding Laylea up to lick the mom’s face.

  “Yeah. But it was Gamma who suggested I remind you about movies.”

  “Oh yeah.” Laylea licked at the smile that filled the dad’s face. “That bastard.”

  Chapter Five

  Laylea’s vaccinations took ten weeks. She made the most of every minute she got to spend with the Hillens.

  She raced around the main floor of the house with Woodford and Bailey. If the boys took their games upstairs she needed help. The first time they’d abandoned her, she dropped her butt to the ground and bayed in her little singing voice, trying to howl like Woodford. Sher had burst out of the kitchen. As soon as she picked Laylea up, the puppy clamped down on her crying. After establishing there was no physical injury to the dog, Sher returned her to the floor. Laylea tripped over to the step and pawed at it, looking up at the mom with little hope.

  “If you address the problem you won’t have time to stress over it. Have you even tried to get up the stairs on your own?”

  Laylea stretched up, her belly against the step, and pulled with all the strength in her little front paws while her back legs scrabbled at the wood. She got one rear paw up before tumbling back to the floor.

  “Good job.” Sher bent and gave her a rare belly scratch. “Bailiff!”

  Bailey dashed back down the stairs and grabbed Laylea up. They went off and played and had fun. But a small part of Laylea wished she’d gotten just a few more seconds of love from the mom.

  Laylea discovered the best place to nap was right beside Woodford. Though he didn’t sleep as much, he would find himself a nice sunny spot with a view of the drunken trees or the other neighbors in their cul-de-sac. Sometimes the Rucker boys would come over to play with them and sometimes they’d invite the dogs and Bailey over to run around in their grandmother’s yard if they were very careful to avoid the roses. Laylea didn’t want to avoid the roses. Their scent intoxicated her. It changed constantly and they smelled differently from the front porch than when she snuck over and buried her head in the bushes. She just sniffed the flowers. Woodford dug in the dirt beneath them.

  Laylea learned quickly. Some rules seemed to come naturally to her and some she picked up with only one or two reinforcements. She tumbled down the stairs several times before they were declared off limits. But she only peed inside the house once more after the first day and that was on the carpet remnant inside the front door. Bailey showed her the bells on the door. He showed her the bells on all the doors. If she rang a bell, one of the humans would open the door. It seemed everyone in the house was conditioned to respond to the bells. Every window had bells too. Whenever the security of the house was breached, Woodford, Laylea, and any humans in the house who weren’t in a shower would report to the jingling.

  Five days a week Sher left the house to work at her clinic. Woodford got to go with her when she rode the tricycle with the rear basket. Bailey went to school five days a week. But Clark never went away. Laylea followed him everywhere. Most times he took her with him in his bicycle basket as he rode around town and beyond. They’d visit other people’s houses and fix things. She got to wear a collar like Woodford whenever they left the neighborhood.

  She wasn’t allowed to help fix things at the Rick’s house across the street just because she chased their cat up the porch, over the roof, and into a tree three times. She did get to go with him to help a nice old lady in a mansion right on the edge of town. Her house was filled with blankets and books and clocks and the lady fed Laylea sausages while Clark rebuilt her bathrooms to be wheelchair accessible. That was a wondrous week.

  Many of their jaunts involved shopping. One trip took so long Laylea curled up in her blue baby towel and fell asleep to the bounce of the tricycle and the low hum of Clark’s singing. They made four stops and by the time they were pedaling home the dad struggled against the weight of an overstuffed backpack, filled trike trunk, plus Bailey’s old trailer topped up with odds and ends. Laylea even had to share her handlebar basket with a shopping bag of feminine supplies.

  After each shopping trip, Clark would park the bike or trike on the right side of the garage and unload most of his supplies into the small Chevy pickup that rusted against the far wall. The day of the long excursion, Clark scooped sleeping Laylea from her basket and set her atop a quartet of giant flour sacks in the truck bed. He’d closed the motor operated barn doors leading to the driveway and turned on the ancient yellow lamp overhead.

  Laylea yawned and pawed at her eyes. She looked around at the crates and stacks of supplies around her. A misshapen burlap sack leaned against the flour sacks at the tail of the truck nearly hiding the two bags of apples beneath it. Behind the flour, a bag filled with various sized jeans sat on a box filled with small camping gear like a water filter and all-weather matches. Most of the bed was taken up by a grid of crates which rose nearly high enough to block the back window of the cab. Each of these was wrapped in plastic and labeled with a number. Most of the crates held one or two books and a baggie of soaps and toiletries. The feminine products were distributed among some of these. One dusty blue crate contained rolls of thread and a giant cloth bag of mismatched buttons donated by the sausage lady. Two bolts of fabric stuck out of the top of this crate. Clark covered them with a potato sack and bungeed it tightly around the material.

  He talked to Laylea as he worked.

  “We’re going to the mountains, Lee.” He hauled a bag of seed corn off the shelves. “I don’t really have a lot of marketable skills beyond my freakish perfect recall and since we can only retrieve the details under hypnosis and that’s not really something we want to advertise, I can’t get a regular job.” He tucked the bag down into the space between the crates and wheel well. “I help people out around town when I can. But my most important jobs are for my clients up in the mountains. I take them supplies they can’t produce themselves. I deliver mail. And I provide an opportunity for socializing.” He stopped to run a hand over her fur. “You know how we make sure you get to sniff other dogs when we see them? That’s socializing. It’s healthy. These folk don’t get much of it. That’s kind of why Sher calls them hermits.”

  He worked quietly for a while, rearranging the items in the truck bed to fit snugly. Laylea turned around a couple of times, lost her footing, and slipped off the flour sacks. She clambered up the camping gear box and pushed off the sack of jeans to scramble back up. Keeping an eye on the edges, she turned three times and dropped into a curl.

  A shadow cut off the light from the old bulbs. She looked up to see Clark standing over her, shaking his head. She lifted her front leg, hopeful of a chest rub, but the dad slipped his whole hand under her belly and flew her over to a stack of tarps by the kitchen steps. He pulled one of the sheets of blue plastic off the top and set her down on the remaining pile. She gave him the puppy eyes and rolled on her side, opening her whole belly to him. Laughing, he knelt to scritch her.

  “I guess we’re hermits too. But these people are even more wary of civilization than us. Some of them are still healing from being rescued.” Clark kissed her head and turned away. He shook the tarp open over the truck bed. “I suppose I’m still healing from—”

  Sher stuck her head out the kitchen door. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “I’ll just be another minute.” Clark bent his
head down as he tied a corner of the tarp to the truck.

  Sher leaned on the door. “Are you okay?”

  The dad looked up, a bright smile on his face. “I’m always okay.”

  Laylea tilted her head. She could smell his fear. She thought Sher could smell it too because the mom came down the steps and peered in the cab of the truck.

  “Bailey’s still pouting,” she said. “But he’s on the stairs now.”

  “Why don’t you just give him the book you got for him?”

  Laylea shrunk into her stack of tarps at Sher’s tone when she replied, “Because I don’t reward that kind of behavior. We cannot keep the dog. He has to understand that. This family is big enough already. What would we do with two dogs if we have to run?”

  Clark moved down to the next set of ropes on the tarp. “We’re not taking commercial transportation anywhere. My false ID wouldn’t pass that kind of inspection. So why can’t we just take them with us?”

  “You know it'll be too dangerous.”

  “So we leave them both at the clinic.” He cinched the knot tight. “They’ll find homes.”

  “And break his heart even more?”

  Clark took a breath. He pulled a bungee cord out of the bed. “A broken heart just proves you have one.”

  “You’re saying I’m heartless?”

  “I’m saying you could be less logical. You could think with your heart now and then.”

  Laylea looked from one to the other as the air in the garage thickened. She wanted one of them to say something before they all suffocated. Clark stretched the elastic cord in his hands. In a rush he blurted, “Come with me.”

  Sher took a step back as if she’d been pushed and had to catch herself from falling. She inhaled a breath filled with thoughts but all that came out was, “No.”

  There was no arguing with that declaration. There was no arguing with Sher. The mom turned and before the echo of the word had died in the stale air the kitchen door fell shut behind her.

  Laylea watched Clark. He closed the tailgate and secured the second side of the tarp. He worked with his back to the kitchen door but Laylea could see he was more than aware of the emptiness that stood there now. She slid and tumbled off of the cold stack of blue plastic to totter over to his feet. She shadowed him as he moved along the side of the truck, chanting as he worked. He laced the ropes and tied them off in a rhythm that matched his words. “I will not kill another soul today. I will not kill another soul today.”

  He repeated this phrase until the last knot was pulled taut. As he smoothed the tarp around the upright bolts of fabric, his words changed. “Her life is in my hands and I will not throw it away.”

  Laylea felt a calm descend over him.

  “I guess that’s it.” He spoke to himself and then raised his voice for her. “I tried, little girl.” He woke from his trance and adjusted the bolts of fabric so the tarp lay more evenly. “If some evil guy is really after you then you’ll be safer in the mountains with one of the other CF soldiers. I suppose you might be a match with a regular old hermit but I hope you’ll be a salve for one of us. You’ve been a salve for me. Whoa!” He hopped to avoid stepping on the puppy. Laylea yelped softly.

  “I’m sorry.” He knelt and scooped her into his lap. “You came over to comfort me didn’t you?” He held her up and tapped his forehead to hers. " I’m gonna miss you."

  She swatted his mouth with her paws and licked every part of him she could reach.

  “You are sweet and silly and cuddly in ways Woodford will never be.” Clark held her in front of him, suddenly serious. “Don’t get me wrong. I adore Woodford. Have ever since Sher brought him home. She rescued him from a ditch on the side of a busy road. He was filthy and underfed and scared of humans and dogs alike. Do not repeat this, Laylea, but Woodford was even scared of cats.” Clark bent his knees to support her little legs. He sighed. She looked up, not licking now, trying to listen closely. “She rescued me because she was the one who turned me into a Conditioned Force soldier. She rescued Woodford because knowing there are other horrible people in the world made her feel a little less awful. Now he’s our reliable, even-tempered guard hound and I’m her reliable, even-tempered baby daddy.”

  He looked down and saw her watching him. He kissed her nose. She kissed his back.

  “You and Bailey though. You are love. You’re filled with affection and cuddles. Wherever you end up, don’t you let that go, Laylea. These CF have all been broken, just like me. Just like Sher. We’re all trying, the best we can to be happy again. To be like you and Bailey.”

  The kitchen door opened. Clark’s warm smell iced over with fear and he stood brushing specks of debris from his khakis.

  “Dad?”

  Laylea had been watching Clark. Clark had been examining the tie-downs. When Bailey spoke he swiveled and smiled. Laylea's tail flicked of its own volition in the joy of seeing the kid. She heard Woodford's tail thump against a kitchen counter in counterpoint to the rain of kibble into plastic bowls. Her own tail sped up under the dad’s arm.

  “Dinner?” Clark asked.

  Laylea chirped a happy bark, thinking he was asking if she wanted some.

  She pasted her ears back when Bailey answered, “Yeah.”

  But Clark flew her into Bailey’s arms, unaware of her embarrassment. “Dinner for everyone, then.”

  Sher stayed distant through dinner. She joined them for night walk but didn’t chatter with the boys. Before the sun rose in the morning, she rousted Bailey and Laylea from bed and took the puppy outside for an abbreviated morning walk. Nobody said much or sat much during the quick breakfast of kibble and oatmeal. Bailey carried Laylea with him as he helped his dad pack a few last items into the truck.

  Sher emerged from her tinker room with a small round pillow half again as big as Laylea. She attached several straps to loops on the pillow and set the whole contraption on the passenger seat of the truck.

  Bailey kissed Laylea a billion times before he handed her to his mother who held the puppy up and kissed her forehead. Laylea was so surprised she barely had time to dart her head out and lick Sher’s nose before she was set in the middle of the little pillow. She stood as the pillow settled around her, revealing it was actually a bed of cushiony fabric surrounded by a firm bolster. The blue was the same shade her baby towel might once have been and complimented it nicely when Sher tucked the old thing in beside her.

  Clark and Bailey pushed open the single right-hand panel of the carriage doors. Then Clark slid into the driver’s seat and Bailey reached in the passenger side window to pet the puppy one last time.

  Sher came running from the kitchen when Clark started the engine. “Hold on. Two more things.”

  She reached through the window with a green book about the size of a package of hot dogs. “This is for the new guy. He needs it.”

  Clark reached to take the book but Sher didn’t let it go.

  She repeated, “He needs it.”

  “Got it.” Clark set the book on the dashboard.

  “And here.” The mom tucked a patchwork stuffed lizard no bigger than her hand into the crook of Laylea’s belly. “Something for her to cuddle while you’re flying.”

  Her husband laughed. “A lizard?”

  “She doesn’t seem like a teddy bear kind of dog, right?” She looked to Bailey who nodded enthusiastically. “So why not a teddy lizard?”

  Laylea smelled warm joy wash over the tension that had ruled Clark’s morning. “I love it when you surprise me, Sheriff.”

  Sher smelled to Laylea like a mix of burnt popcorn washed with rain. She stood up on the armrest, but Sher turned away. And Clark’s joy faded. He put the truck in gear and they rolled away from the mom and the kid. Laylea pawed at the door. She couldn’t keep a small cry from escaping.

  And when Bailey broke from his mother and ran to the window for one more kiss, Sher caught Clark’s eyes.

  He stopped the truck.

  Laylea lapped at the tears pouri
ng down Bailey’s face. She wanted him to pick her up out of her new bed. She wanted Clark to leap from the truck [LS1]and spin Sher in his arms. She wanted to stay.

  But the mom wrapped her arms around Bailey and pulled him one step back from the truck. She waited until Clark had pulled Laylea from the door and settled her again in the new blue bed. Then she bent awkwardly to catch his eyes.

  “Fair winds.”

  Clark breathed. “I love you.”

  The truck rolled out of the garage and Laylea stared out of the window at the mom and the boy until she couldn’t see them anymore. She shut her eyes before they reached the entrance to the cul-de-sac with its drunken trees and painful sign. But in her mind she could still see her second family waving goodbye.

  Chapter Six

  Clark let Laylea sit in the pilot’s seat of his single engine Cessna Cardinal while he loaded the cargo. She watched as he unloaded the truck and packed everything into the plane. Once the supplies were stowed, the dad backed the Cessna out of the dusty shed and hopped out to park the empty truck where the plane had been. Laylea raced back and forth in the cockpit, hopping from one blue seat to the other and back to find some view out the windows where she could see him. When he returned to the plane, she calmed. He set her in the new blue bed and attached the straps Sher had rigged up to allow the bed to be buckled in. He buckled himself in the left seat, finished his checklist, and keyed the radio.

  “I’m about to take the runway.”

  Laylea watched him work the controls, confident and trusting. Until they started rushing down the runway.

  Squeezed against the back of the bed she dropped her lower jaw to bark but found she couldn’t. For terrifying minutes the world rushed by and then everything slowed down. All she could see was sky in every direction. She stood on the side door, trying to find the earth she knew but it wasn’t there. The whole world was blue. Her tummy gurgled. She twisted around to snap at it. Something inside wanted out. Terrified of making a mess on her brand new lizard, she half-leapt half-tumbled out of the bed. A bag of clothes on the floor of the cockpit cushioned her fall. And after she threw up, her tummy felt much better. She couldn’t figure out how to get back up to her bed without stepping in the sick so she wandered over to Clark’s feet to curl up. He scooped her into his lap.