Oilcan had forgotten to ask Tinker about the true motive behind the whiskers. By Cattail’s tone, the concept of “one people” obviously puzzled her, despite having benefitted from it. Sooner or later, he needed to talk to the kids about being sponsored by the Wind Clan or going on alone as Stone Clan. Not now, though; not in the middle of the night when they were both dead on their feet.
“We saved this for you.” Cattail held up the basket that smelled of something warm and savory.
“Thank you.” He accepted it with guilt twisting in his stomach. He should have been the one making sure that the kids had food, not the other way around.
“Do you need help righting your room?” Cattail asked.
“No, go to bed. I’m going to eat and then go to sleep. We can do it tomorrow.”
He thought about the day as he cleared space for his mattress. The kids had amazed him with their strength. Just hours after being rescued from horrible torture, they had knitted themselves into a family, taking care of each other and working toward a better future. He knew it was in part, though, because they thought they had found a safe haven.
He could remember after his mother had died. It was months before his grandfather knew what happened and could come get him. He was shuffled between foster homes, not knowing what was going to happen to him. By the time he reached Pittsburgh, he was a fearful mess. Only after Tinker had convinced him that she wouldn’t let anyone take him away could he get through the night without crying. Whatever courage he had during the day drained away with the light.
The kids wouldn’t be doing so well if they realized how tentative their situation really was. He flipped down his mattress and sprawled onto it. The biggest problem was that he knew how tentative it was. It wasn’t even that he was human, but that he was only one person. He was anchor rider for Team Tinker, and both he and Tinker had been lucky not to be hurt in the smashups that occurred at the races. The city was at war, and the oni could attack any place, any time. One stray bullet and where would the kids be?
A hand on his shoulder woke him.
Oilcan opened his eyes to darkness, unsure of where he was. Moonlight streamed through too large a window. The bed felt too low but definitely wasn’t one of his friends’ couches.
“You left all the doors unlocked.” Thorne Scratch’s rough voice came out of the dark.
“Um, okay.” He sat up in bed, remembering then he’d moved into the school down the street from the enclaves. Worried about the kids, he hadn’t thought about locking down for the night. “I’ll lock them.”
“I already have.” She sat on his couch to pull off her boots. He was still sleep clouded enough that he didn’t realize what she intended until she stood and slid down her leather pants.
She was staying the night.
That afternoon, when he pulled to a stop in front of the school, she had walked away without saying good-bye or if she would be back. He’d figured last night had been a thing born of alcohol and too much pain to bear alone. A momentary lapse of reason not to be repeated.
Perhaps from her perspective, one afternoon apart wasn’t enough time separated to warrant a good-bye. Last night, in his apartment, seemed a lifetime ago for him. Since she was hundreds of years old, though, maybe the day had passed in the blink of an eye.
Which made this — what? A continuation of last night? Or was this more than a one-night stand on an epic scale? Could it ever be more than that since he was just human? Did it matter? Honestly, he wanted her there in his arms, strong and fierce and painfully vulnerable.
The sex had all the slow glide of lovemaking, and afterward she pressed a tear-damp cheek to his shoulder as they lay wrapped together.
“He never understood,” she whispered mysteriously. “But you do.”
He was afraid that if he asked what she meant, she’d realize that she was mistaken.
18: REPERCUSSIONS
Esme walked into Lain’s without ringing the ancient hand-cranked doorbell. Tinker stood on Lain’s porch, shocked. She’d been taught to ring and wait for Lain to come to the door. Only uncivilized heathens simply barged into people’s homes.
“Lain!” Esme’s voice drifted back as she went down the hallway.
Then again, Lain usually dead-bolted her front door, which required ringing the bell to get in. It was odd that it was open in the middle of the night — although all her astronomer neighbors would be awake.
Tinker glanced to Pony. He nodded, his face mirroring her concern. She cocked her fingers into the summoning, and they followed Esme through the dark house.
Lain was all the way back in her dimly lit lab, a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of sugar cookies waiting beside her microscope. “I don’t know why I thought that the two of you together could do anything in a timely fashion. God forbid you hurry because someone is waiting.”
“Things got complicated,” Tinker said in their defense. She signaled to her Hand to stand down.
“Did you tell her?” Lain asked.
Esme laughed at the confusion on Tinker’s face as she tried to connect the question to the last six hours of dealing with illegal DNA collection and the cremation of dead children. “Yes, she told me.” Esme caught her older sister in a hug. “God, you sound like Mother. You look like her, too.”
Lain laughed bitterly. “Mother wouldn’t be caught dead without makeup.”
“That’s true, but you shouldn’t be so old.”
“I’m lucky to be old,” Lain said. “It means I’m still alive.”
Which made Esme hug Lain harder.
“Oh, stop that. I’m still angry with you for going off and nearly getting yourself killed.”
“I only wanted you safe and happy, Lain.”
“Like I could be happy knowing you’d sacrificed yourself for me.” Still, Lain relented and hugged Esme back. Tinker felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. Lain kept everyone but Tinker at arm’s length. It was surprisingly hard to know that someone else would be receiving her affection. “You’re still on my shit list for any number of things.”
Esme laughed. “Now you sound like Nana.”
“Stop making me older than I am!” Lain studied the whiskers on her face. “Do I want to know?”
“I had to practice my technique for getting DNA unnoticed before trying it out on the unsuspecting.” Tinker unpacked the messenger bag of the swabs.
Lain eyed the growing pile with uneasiness. “How many samples did you get?”
“How many swabs did you give me?”
Lain shook her head. “I should have known you wouldn’t do it small. Good thing I only gave you a hundred. You do know who you tagged?”
Tinker nodded. “I kept a list.” She found the list of names connected to the swab numbers. Between the elves’ long names and the need to quickly scribble down the information, she had used a code instead of writing out the full names. “It’s kind of cryptic at the moment.”
“Cryptic is good.” Lain looked torn between glee and worry. “Are you sure you’re not going to get into trouble for this? I studied the treaty. If we destroy these without testing, we’re in the clear.”
Esme laughed. “Oh, none of them seemed to know what hit them.”
Tinker scowled at Esme. “The treaty is the least of my worries, and no, don’t destroy them. No one seemed to be the wiser.” Riki seemed suspicious; he knew better than anyone how much she could pull off in front of witnesses. She doubted, though, that he would talk to the Wyverns about anything he suspected. The tengu needed her safe and sound and protecting them.