Second Nature (27 page)

CHAPTER 12

"
S
O TELL ME A little about yourself," Helen said as she poured syrup over her first pancake.

"What do you want to know? My life is an open book."
A fictitious book, of course.
Griffin spread her arms wide, indicating her openness and almost knocking over the saltshaker on the table next to them. Her natural grace normally saved her from embarrassment, but this time, she had forgotten that the small café hadn't been built with the size of a Wrasa in mind.

The people at the other tables looked at them and started to whisper.

Helen just smiled, unconcerned with the attention Griffin's almost accident with the saltshaker was getting them. She was not at all how Griffin had expected her to be. After all that Jorie had said and implied, she had expected a rigid woman who cared about appearances and tried to enforce her high expectations on her daughter.

"Jorie said you have a degree in zoology?" Helen asked.

It spoke volumes to Griffin that her degree was what Jorie had mentioned to her mother. Clearly, Jorie had thought it would impress her mother more than anything else she could tell her about Griffin. "Yes. I got my PhD in zoology from the University of New Hampshire a few years ago."

"New Hampshire? Does your family live there?" Helen asked.

"No. I have a big family, and they live all over. My father," Griffin swallowed the plural, "lives just a few miles from here."

"Oh, how nice! So you're here to visit him?"

"I'm here because of Jorie," Griffin answered truthfully, knowing it would appeal to Helen's maternal instinct to have someone be there for her daughter. There was no way for her to guess the true meaning of those words.

Helen let go of her fork and covered Griffin's hand with her own.

The slender fingers looked like those of a child on her larger hand. Griffin forced herself not to pull away from the sudden invasion of her "territory."

"That's so sweet of you." Helen's electric blue eyes looked directly into Griffin's, making her uncomfortable. "I'm so glad Jorie has finally found a friend."

A strange mix of guilt and triumph swirled through Griffin. Part of her was proud of her skills that had allowed her to sneak into Jorie's life. Another part was already dreading where it would all lead. She shoved the thought away and focused on the conversation.
She makes it sound as if Jorie never had a friend before, not even one.
"She doesn't make friends easily," Griffin said. "Has she always been like this?"

"From the very first moment we brought her home," Helen said. A worried frown and an affectionate smile wrestled for dominance on her face. "She was just three, and we hoped she would soon learn how to fit in with the other kids, but it never happened."

"And she's an only child, right?" It was an educated guess, and Helen's nod confirmed it.

"Yes, and since neither Robert, my late husband, nor I have any siblings, she has no cousins either. She always spent a lot of time playing by herself. But she brought home every stray animal she could find... dogs, birds, and especially cats." Helen chuckled. "One time, she even rescued a turtle. Rob and I always thought she would end up as a vet or a zoologist."

A thought hit Griffin: Helen's husband had died, and she had no siblings and no children but Jorie.
Oh, great. Here I am, having breakfast with her like an old friend, and I might have to kill the only thing she has left in the world.
The pancakes stopped tasting so good.

For a second, she saw Helen stand next to an open grave, with only a priest reading from his Bible at her side. Griffin had been at two funerals, both of them of humans she had been forced to kill because they'd been about to reveal their existence. Unlike most of her colleagues, she had forced herself to attend, hidden behind the very last row of mourners. It had been almost unbearable to take in the scent of the widows' grief, listen to the sobbing of small kids, and watch the pain on the wrinkled faces of parents who had outlived their children. Still, it was the least she could do to pay respect to the two people she'd had to kill in the name of duty. She didn't want to go through it again anytime soon.

"Were your parents happy when you chose zoology as your field of expertise?" Helen asked.

Griffin swallowed another bite of suddenly too dry pancake. Normal Wrasa parents would have been quite happy with her choice of careers. It was important to get as many shape-shifters as possible into jobs where they could help to keep their existence hidden. So Wrasa children were encouraged to become doctors, biologists, teachers, police officers, nurses, or reporters. Not Griffin. Her fathers' side of the family had wanted grandkids who went into politics, as most Eldridges had before. Her mother's side of the family had hoped that Nella's children would continue the line of dream seers, who had protected their people since the beginning of time.

But that special gift ran only in full-blooded Puwar, so dream seeing had died with her grandfather. Far beyond being only religious figures, the maharsi had guided the Wrasa in all aspects of their lives. Their precognitive dreams had helped to decide political disputes, personal careers, marriages, and alliances between families. Even the High Council valued their advice. Most importantly, the maharsi had kept them safe from being discovered by humans for a lot of generations. Losing the last dream seer had been a profound loss for all Wrasa. Without their guidance, they had to rely on the Saru and their strict laws to keep themselves undetected and safe.

"My family had other dreams for me, but they are all right with what I do for a living now," Griffin finally answered. It was another half-truth. "What about you? Were you surprised when Jorie became a writer?"

"Truthfully, yes. But looking back, it shouldn't have surprised me at all. When she was a little girl, she used to have imaginary friends." Helen smoothed a fingertip over one of her eyebrows, a gesture that Griffin had seen Jorie use too. "God, that child had an incredible imagination. She made up names, habits, likes, and dislikes for each and every one of them, and they seemed quite real to her. I should have known that a girl with that kind of imagination would grow up to be a writer."

Griffin chuckled. "What did you think she would grow up to be?"

"I'm not sure." Helen finished her second pancake and laid down her cutlery. "I gave up the hope that she would go to college and get a degree a long time ago. Jorie never did well in school."

That was a surprise. "She didn't? But she's so intelligent and so thorough and organized in her writing."

A smile of pride that Griffin had never seen on her own mother flashed across Helen's face. "It wasn't a lack of intelligence, but she hated school and didn't fit in at all, so she finally stopped trying."

Griffin could empathize. As many Wrasa did, she had struggled all through school and college. She had never dealt well with authority figures and her fellow students, especially not human students.

"She even hated math. I tried to tutor her, but it made things worse." Helen chuckled ruefully. "She always used to joke that not all Asians are good at math."

But Jorie is,
Griffin thought.
She has to be, or she wouldn't have lasted long as a poker player. Why would she make that joke, then?
The answer slowly came to her: Jorie had done it to avoid being put in a box. She hated to be seen as the adopted kid or the Asian American. For the same reason, she had written romance novels, historical fiction, fantasy, and mysteries. She didn't want to be pigeonholed as a writer in just one of these genres.

"We let her skip a year because we thought the problem was that she was bored with the lessons, but I think it just made everything worse. Now she was a year, almost two, younger than the other kids... and on top of that, she was the only adopted kid in her class." Helen rubbed at the furrows of regret on her forehead.

Had her own mother ever agonized like this over how she had treated Griffin and Kylin? Griffin doubted it. Giving herself a mental kick, she reached out to squeeze Helen's hand as Helen had done before. "Hey, don't worry so much about Jorie. She's fine. She has a job she loves and that she's very good at. She has a bunch of adoring fans, a good home in a nice little town, and I hear the local doctor keeps asking her out."

She told herself that she was just saying it to get into Helen's good graces and worm herself further into Jorie's life, but part of her wondered whether she was assuaging her growing feelings of guilt.

A skeptical smile inched across Helen's face. "Really?"

Griffin pulled her hand back as quickly as good manners allowed. She nodded.

"And he's a good man?" Helen asked.

"Seems pretty nice," Griffin answered, mentally adding,
For a human.

Now visibly cheered, Helen waved to the waitress and paid for their breakfast.

"Thank you," Griffin said.

"No, thank you. You made me feel so much better about Jorie living here all alone. I'm glad she has someone looking out for her." Helen's blue eyes gave her another intense gaze. "You have to join us for dinner at the house again tonight."

"Under two conditions," Griffin said as Helen had before.

Helen laughed. "Let's hear them."

"First, you have to let me bring wine and dessert again. And second, you don't tell Jorie that I told you about the doctor." If Helen started badgering Jorie about going out with Dr. Saxton, Griffin would be in trouble. She didn't want Jorie to think she couldn't trust her with her secrets.

"Don't worry." Helen patted her arm, much more comfortable with casual touching than her daughter was. "You can be my secret informant."

Great. And I thought spying for the Saru was complicated enough.
With the way things were going, she would have a longer report for Helen than for her tas. Her investigation was going nowhere, and no matter how much she learned about Jorie, it didn't get her any closer to figuring out what and how Jorie knew about the Wrasa. She was starting to run out of ideas.
I think I have a saru's version of writer's block — and no helpful muse in sight.

*  *  *

"Come on in." Helen's warm smile greeted her. "Jorie is in the shower, and I'm still cooking, so go ahead and make yourself at home."

Griffin took off her jacket and handed Helen the things she had brought. "Can I help with anything?"

"Thank you." Helen nodded at the cheese platter and the wine. "And no, you're not allowed to lift a finger. Tonight, you're getting spoiled."

Mmm.
The appealing thought triggered an automatic smile. Her cat side liked getting spoiled. "Okay." Reacquainting herself with the scent of the house, Griffin made her way toward the living room. Jorie's home smelled different now that her mother was there, but the fragrance of coconut and spring was still strong.

"Um... Griffin?" Helen called.

"Yes?" Griffin turned back around. "Did you change your mind about letting me help?"

"No, but there's something you could do if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Griffin said without hesitation.

Helen chuckled. "You haven't even heard what it is yet."

Griffin's answering smile wasn't an act. She liked Helen.
Not good. You're not here to make friends with humans, no matter how nice they are.
"I don't mind," she said again.

"I accidentally let one of the cats into the living room, and it seems to be scared of me," Helen said. "Now it's hiding under the couch, and..." She sneezed. "...and it seems my allergies are back. Do you think you could try to get it out from under there before Jorie thinks I'm torturing her feline roommates?"

"Which cat is it?" Griffin asked. If it was Emily or Agatha, she stood no chance of getting her to come out of her hiding place. As soon as she entered the living room, the cat would hide even deeper under the couch.

"The red one."

"Ah, Will." A confident grin spread across her face. "No problem. I'll get him out in no time. He's a friend of mine." Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, she strolled into the living room and knelt in front of the couch. Her human throat labored to produce a soft, calling sound, something very close to what Will's mother had used when he was a kitten and she wanted him to follow her.

When Will didn't move, she reached out her hand. Trying to take a look under the couch was a bad idea. It would bring her eye to eye with the scared cat and make him feel even more threatened. She didn't feel around or try to grab the cat; she just held her hand out, palm up, and waited.

A minute went by. Then a second one.

Holding out her hand without moving was starting to become difficult, but Griffin waited with the patience of a predator stalking its prey.

After a few more seconds, a moist, cool nose touched the warm skin of her hand.

Griffin held still and let the cat take in her scent. A rough tongue came out and licked her finger. Griffin chuckled. She withdrew her hand and made the kitten-calling sound again.

Very slowly, paw after paw, Will emerged from under the couch. His ears were lying flat against his skull and only flicked forward when he realized Helen wasn't in the room.

He really dislikes humans — except for Jorie. She gained his trust.
Griffin softly stroked a few cobwebs away from his ears and whiskers. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you back to the bedroom, where it's warm and safe." She picked him up, careful not to hurt him in the process, and carried him into the bedroom. Jumping up on just three legs would be hard for him, so she set him onto the bed.

Will crouched down into a sphinxlike position, not yet relaxed enough to curl up and go to sleep.

When she settled down on the edge of the bed next to him, her gaze fell on the laptop that was sitting in the middle of the bed. The lid was open, and a low humming told Griffin that Jorie hadn't turned it off. She tilted her head and listened.