Wildcat Fireflies (2 page)

“P
ulloverpulloverpullover!” I screeched as we approached the outskirts of another small town.

One more bump, one more pothole sitting in this beater truck, and I was going to lose my mind. Tens and I were just past three weeks from leaving the wreckage of Revelation, Colorado, on our Divine-tasked quest to find other Fenestra. More people, girls, like me. More Protectors like Tens. Supposedly, there was one, somewhere in the state of Indiana, who needed our help.

“Pleasepleaseplease!” Now at the tail end of January, it had been nearly a month since Jasper’s granddaughter brought us the newspaper article about a cat who predicted deaths and a girl called the Grim Reaper.

It was impossible to think in the bouncing, flouncing truck. I refused to inhale any more hay dust, mud particles, and springs of decades past, not for another second. I heard my brain rolling in circles around the inside of my skull like a Super Ball. “We’ve been driving for lifetimes, Tens. Pull over!” I shouted.

Unflappable as always, Tens didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Meridian, we’re almost there. It hasn’t been that long today. You’re exagger—”

I cut him off. “Long enough. I need to stretch. Just for a minute. Here’s good.” I reached for the door handle as we passed a sign proclaiming
WELCOME TO CARMEL, INDIANA
.

“Here?” He slowed, but didn’t stop the truck.

I needed
out
.

Right
.

Now
.

“Here.” I leapt out. As Tens parked the truck along the curb, I breathed in warm pre-spring air, huffing and puffing like I’d been running instead of sitting.

Custos sprang out of the truck bed, disappearing into the shadows. If I glanced around, I knew I’d see her. But knowing she was watching from the periphery was enough for the moment. I hadn’t truly figured out whether she was more than dog, more than wolf. But I suspected.

Tens unfolded and walked around to the front of the cab, waiting for me like one of the Queen’s guards. I knew that expression. All patience, calm, and deliberation. He used it with wild animals in traps.

I closed my eyes against the irritation with him I felt bubbling up. “I have a feeling about this place.” I knew it as truth, as soon as the words left my mouth.

Tens brushed the area with his glance, taking in every detail, assessing our safety in a blink. “Good or bad?”

Frustrated, I blew out a snort and rubbed my palms on my thighs. Our third day on the road, the newspaper article had mysteriously gone blank, the ink disappearing. Now all we had left was flimsy newsprint and our memories to guide us. I kept expecting another sign. Something I recognized, something that told me we were on the right path. Only nothing presented itself. Each day flowed into the next and failure frayed my edges.

Where was she? This mysterious girl like me, hunted by the Nocti, needed by the good, by everything that was light, clean and pure. What was she thinking? Was she wishing someone would fall from the sky and tell her she wasn’t a freak? Or did she understand her destiny and feel confident in herself?

“Meridian? Good or bad feeling?” Tens loped toward me, carefully keeping his distance. I didn’t bite, but I’d been cranky enough lately that I understood his reticence.

“I don’t know yet.” I turned away, trying to puzzle out the gut feeling twisting me up. “Why don’t you sense it, too? Why can’t you sense her? What good is your gift if we
can’t count on it? What if we don’t find her? Are we supposed to drive every road in the state, and the next state, and then … what? Canada? Mexico? I can’t believe we’re supposed to drive around for the rest of our lives eating burgers and sleeping in crappy motels.” We had plenty of money, thanks to Auntie. What we didn’t want to do was grab the interest of authorities—the last thing we needed was a Good Samaritan wanting to rescue a minor from life on the road. Although sixteen and old enough to drop out of high school, I still resembled a barely pubescent girl. I didn’t look a day over fourteen, and Tens’s intimidating nature screamed criminal. Not a good combination for keeping a low profile.

“You’re tired.” He said this like it explained everything, including my volatile attitude.

Pissed, I hissed up at him, “Don’t patronize me.” Of course I was tired. We never ceased driving, not for more than a few hours at a time. We’d been to every retirement and nursing home from the southern Indiana border to the middle of the state. I walked in circles, kicking the truck’s tires.

I craved a bit of balance, stillness for my soul. Direction wasn’t enough on this quest; I wanted a clear purpose. What was the point of sending us out in blind ignorance? Not for the first time I wished for a conversation with the Creators—the rule makers. I wanted one of those comment cards. Fenestras shouldn’t have to operate alone and vastly outmatched by the community of Nocti, who had each other and leaders and clear mandates to destroy and bring suffering. Me—my team? We simply had
journeys and lessons and growth.
Yee-haw for the good guys
.

Tens sighed and leaned over the hood of the truck. “Fine, you’re not tired. You’re thinking clearly and you’re not wailing like a toddler who didn’t get the lollipop. Tantrum much?” He rested his face in his hand, huffed a breath, and straightened toward me.

My mouth gaped. Then I choked back an utterly bitchy retort. He was right. He was always right. “Wow. Harsh.”

“Yeah, sorry. No excuse.” He softly brushed hair off my neck and kneaded the muscles knotted in my shoulders, successfully turning my claws into purrs. “I’m hungry. You have to be hungry. Let’s go in there.” He kissed the top of my head and turned me gently toward the restaurant behind us. He patted my butt flirtatiously, shocking a giggle from my throat.

A golden sun unfurled its rays on a sign that beckoned us to come inside Helios Tea Room. It seemed like the shop was a once-working farmhouse, now swallowed by the town around it. It sat back from the road and up a set of lopsided concrete steps, with a sloping green lawn dotted with winterized flower beds, metal benches, every type of garden art imaginable. The friendly banana-yellow paint, with glossy white trim, was accented with wind chimes and floral and holiday flags. Garden statuary guarded each step, and ribbons wound around the columns and trees flickered in the breeze.

I grinned and my irritation vanished. I thought of Auntie; she would have adored this place. I fell in love
with the kitschy, easy delight that radiated life. “Auntie loved tea.” My smile grew as I teased Tens. “I bet you’ll enjoy scones. A little cucumber sandwich, perhaps?” I did my best worst British accent and the remaining tension between us melted away like a sugar cube in hot tea.

Tens tugged my hand. “Come on.”

I pointed at the calligraphed sign in the window. “Look, they’re hiring. You’d be a cute waiter.”

Tens snorted and held the door for me. “You know I’d drop stuff.”

That was me, not him. He had the grace of a leaf floating on a warm breeze.
I
was the klutz. Unfortunately, my newfound powers to shepherd souls to their happy place didn’t extend to coordination. Alas, any dreams I had of being a prima ballerina were done for. The Swan in
Swan Lake
would probably stay dead with me in the production.

Bells of all sizes, from tiny jingle to massive cow, chimed our entrance from hooks on the back of the door. The first thing that enveloped me was the combination of scents: vanilla and cinnamon and warm chocolate with hints of lemon and cherry. As we moved from the front door down a hallway, I walked through pockets of aroma, each one a comforting embrace of all that was good in this upside-down world.

My eyes couldn’t take in all the details, and the foyer became a blur of color and textures. Dried hydrangea-and-rose arrangements sat next to tiny teasets, and candles of all sizes teetered on antique hatboxes draped with cotton hobo bags and pearl necklaces. Flour-sack towels hung
over the arms of concrete garden statuary. Stuffed rabbits, the size of small children and anthropomorphized in bonnets and frills, sat at their own little tea tables of plastic delicacies and toys. All of that was artfully crammed between the main door and what I think might once have been a living room but which now served as the cashier’s station.

Tens clutched my hand like he was afraid men weren’t only unwelcome here but were served up on the chintzware with parsley garnish.

“Welcome, welcome to Helios. Is this your first time?” A bubbly sixtysomething not much taller than me smiled warmly. She had deep grooves beside her eyes that acted as exclamation points to her welcome. Her face was darkly tanned, as if she spent more time outside than in, and her chestnut hair, naturally highlighted, curled under at the chin. She didn’t falter at seeing Tens tower over us.
Maybe men of all ages are conscripted into coming frequently?

“Are you here for lunch, or tea, or both?” She led us into and through a second heavily merchandised room, to a covered porch full of light, with floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Lunch. Lots of lunch,” I answered with a grin of my own as I sat down, my back to the entry. Tens insisted on having his back to a wall and his face to the door. Not like he was armed.
I think
.

The hallway and converted porch were decorated with artwork: prints and canvases, gilt-framed photographs, raffia bows, and candle sconces. Piles of skillfully arranged candlesticks with tapers, lacy guest-bathroom fingertip towels, metallic gift bags, and fussy wrap were organized
by color or occasion. Strangely overgrown, and overfull, the place looked like a dessert buffet of rich delights. For the first time in days, I felt myself easing into a charmed relaxation.
Nothing evil lurks in a place so full of joy
.

Hanging from the porch’s ceiling were round glass ornaments in every color and combination. Deep ambers, butterscotch-pie yellows, fresh grass greens and cherry-blossom pinks, ocean blues and teals. All of the balls were about the size of a softball or a cantaloupe. Each cradled a pattern—a bare tree in winter—that seemed captured in the middle of the globe.

We both sat for a moment trying to piece together the details of this enchanted world around us. I knew Tens well enough to know he’d want to get a shovel and start clearing space—he couldn’t think in a place he considered cluttered. He’d told me that one of the hardest parts of living with Auntie was being among all the generations’ leavings, lovingly collected and kept. But this felt like a vacation spot to me. Foreign and exquisitely exotic, in a homey, lacy way.

Tens rolled his eyes at me discreetly.

“It reminds me of Auntie’s,” I said, goading him.

“Why do you think I spent so much time in those caves?” he asked me in a whisper, and winked. He’d prefer a diner, or the Steak & Shake we’d eaten at last night. In that moment, I decided we’d spend hours exploring this place because I didn’t believe him. He was fully and utterly devoted to Auntie; he’d kept her house exactly like she wanted it. Even at the end. Of course, time spent here
also meant we weren’t back on the road feeding his incessant need to drive for hours without stopping.

“Wow, look at that. They’re glowing.” Our college-age server pointed above our heads, drawing our gazes back to the glass globes. Sure enough, it seemed as if the ornaments were giving off an internal light. “Must be the sun hitting them just right.” She shrugged dismissively and placed our menus on the table. “What can I get you?”

Tens and I purposely didn’t glance at each other. I tried not to stare up, instead flattening my gaze to the menu. The sky was gray and overcast, with snow clouds; there was no way sun was causing that light. But what was?
Me? Him? Someone—or
some
thing—
else entirely?

Tens cleared his throat, tapped the menu with one finger, and asked, “Do you have any recommendations?”

I smiled, letting myself get distracted. I knew what was happening. I’d witnessed it often enough over the past month.

She contemplated his question with the utmost care, answering as if she came to work every day wishing someone would actually ask for her recommendation. “Sure. The salad combo is a hit among the heartier appetites; the Italian wedding soup is great. Hmm … so is the bisque on special today, but definitely save room for Derby Pie, or one of the special desserts like the cream éclairs. And the shortbread is delish. I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.” She moved a step away.

“Actually”—Tens stopped her—“I’ll take one of each.”

“Everything?” She looked like he’d asked politely to
rob the place, but she covered quickly, turning to me. “And you?”

I grinned. “The wedding soup and Derby Pie, please?” I’d never heard of either, but could I go wrong with anything wedding or pie? I didn’t think so.

“Spiced iced tea to drink?” When we nodded, she moved toward the swinging kitchen door, scribbling madly. “Coming right up.”

I choked back a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Tens shrugged. “Hungry.” As if that answered everything.

“You’re always hungry.” I giggled. In the short time since I’d known him, he’d grown another inch or two, and his ropy, lanky form had a bit more punch to the muscles. He was still crazy skinny, but the angles had smoothed and the dips shallowed, his edges more rounded.

“What’s with the—?” He pointed up.

I shrugged, baffled. “Should we try to figure it out?”

“You browse. Let’s see if they dim?”

“Shop?” God, something so mundane and normal sounded alien. And utterly delightful. “With pleasure.”

My glee must have snapped Tens back to reality, because he warned, “We don’t have much room in the truck.”

“Pooper.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He leaned back against the wall and turned his attention out the window with calculated nonchalance, but I knew he studied every person in the room checking for clues, answers, unspoken things that might be useful to us.

I saw Custos lying at the edge of the trees. Even at close to two hundred pounds, she was oh-so-good at
disappearing in the middle of spaces. People didn’t see her unless they wanted to see, and no one knew to look. Her butterscotch coat was tinged with amber and gold. Her face was masked black, and a stripe of black ran down her spine, from her head to the tip of her tail. She was frosted with black guard hairs and her eyes were like gold glitter.