Wildcat Fireflies (35 page)

He nodded. “That’s what I see.”

“Did you put
these
here?”

“No, I picked out plain granite stones. My parents weren’t fussy and would have gasped at the cost for death, so I kept it simple, thinking they’d want frugality over froufrou.”

These were anything but simple gravestones.

“I don’t know who did it.” Rumi sat cross-legged in the grass. “I came the day they were supposed to be installed.
I was on time for the appointment, but they were already finished. They weren’t the right ones, but the names and dates were right.”

“Did you ask?”

“Of course. I called the stonemason and he said they’d delivered rectangular stones just like I’d ordered. He even came out here to see them because he didn’t believe me.”

“And?”

“And he couldn’t explain it. I thought maybe my sister ordered them instead, to match the other family ones, perhaps? She wouldn’t admit it, but she’s not the type who would. Nothing sentimental in that one. The mason would have redone them for me, but I left ’em. I liked ’em. Like I said, I accept the inexplicable quite well.”

“Is your mom’s like any others?”

“No, I guess I always came out here to talk to them and saw them, not the graves themselves, you know. Over the years I’ve accepted the headstones as there, but now?”

“Now we have to wonder who put them there.”

“And why,” he said.

* * *

Rumi and I had gotten no further trying to understand the grave markers when he dropped me back at the cottage. Tens’s truck was in the driveway, so I assumed he was inside. Arguments aside, I needed to tell him this new piece of the puzzle. We could argue later.

I threw open the cottage door. “Tens?”

There was no answer.

I tried again, my pulse accelerating, a million bad things going through my mind. “Tens? Where are you? Are you here?”

No Tens, no note, no Custos
.

“Meridian?” Joi called from the path. “Are you okay?”

“Have you seen Tens?” I called to her.

“He and the wolf left here about an hour ago on foot. Running?”

“Oh.” In the past, he’d have left me a note. He wouldn’t have wanted me to worry.

Joi motioned me toward her. “Can you come inside? I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

“Sure.” I blew out a frustrated sigh and headed toward the tearoom.

Joi waited until I got to the kitchen to say more. “Miss Howard is turning one hundred and one today. She’s a spitfire. You’ll love her; she reminds me of you.”

The dining area was decorated with pink and purple balloon bouquets, and streamers dangled between picture frames and wreaths. Lilies and lilacs in huge arrangements filled the room with the scent of spring. A large hand-lettered sign that said
Happy Birthday, Judith!
graced the far windows.

“Everyone, this is Meridian.” Joi introduced me to the group but led me closer to a shrunken lady in a wheelchair at the far end.

By far the youngest one in the room, I felt every set of eyes smile at me.

“Oh, isn’t she pretty?” Miss Howard reached out toward me.

Joi made introductions. “Miss Howard, this is my new friend Meridian.”

She squinted at me and motioned with her hand. “Come closer, dear, I can’t see you with the light in my eyes.”

Another woman announced it was time for cake and the singing of the birthday song.

The hair on my neck raised and my alarm system went off as I touched Miss Howard’s hand. “Oh—”

We stood at the window, side by side. She no longer needed her wheelchair and her gnarled, arthritic fingers were straight and strong as her spine.

“You are pretty, aren’t you?” She paused, tall and vital next to me, still holding my hand. “Do you have a beau?”

“Um, yes.”
I think. Maybe. Can soul mates break up? Or is it like an arranged marriage where you’re stuck regardless?

“Oh, there are my boys.” She turned from me and watched out the window. “What a lovely birthday surprise. There’s my husband—he served in three wars, you know. And my sons, Teddy, Billy, and Ike, they served as infantrymen too. But they’re gone now. Is this a movie, dear?”

I watched the men stride forward and begin to unroll a bright scroll of paper. “No, this isn’t a movie.” I didn’t know how else to say it.

“Well then, oh, look at that.” She giggled and pointed. “It says
Welcome home, we’ve missed you
. I always held up
signs at the airport for them. Every time they got leave and came to visit me, a new sign. But why does it say that?”

She turned to me, puzzled. I’d never had a soul so unaware of what she was supposed to do. Maybe it wasn’t always instinctive.

“Miss Howard, you’re dead. I’m sorry.” I swallowed.

“I am? Are you sure?” She blinked with surprise.

I nodded.

“Forty years I’ve waited for this. Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. What do you mean you’ve waited?”

“I lost Teddy to Korea, Billy to Vietnam, Ike to a drunk driver, and my husband to cancer all before I was sixty. It was hard enough burying my husband, but seeing each of my children in the ground before me, that just isn’t right. I kept thinking I was an old lady and I’d die soon. But that never happened. And here it’s been another lifetime.”

I teared up. It was impossible not to react to the emotion in her voice. Her joy, relief, and sense of release were immeasurable.

“What do I do? Do I fly?”

“You go to them. Through the window.”

“I haven’t walked that far in ages.” She looked at me skeptically, then down at her feet.

“I don’t know exactly how it works, but you’ll be able to.”

“This is real?”

“Yes.”

She squeezed my hand and then let go. Carefully, with
mincing steps, she made her way to the window. She picked up one leg, slung it over the window frame, and then did the same with the other. She steadied herself with both hands against the frame, but she didn’t need to. The more she moved, the better she got, until she was running toward the figures across the farmed land, spritely and fit as a twentysomething. The boys waved to me.

Colorful scarves caught my eye and I glanced to the side, away from the reunion.

“Meridian!” Auntie waved to get my attention. Beside her was the young woman. She was still terribly disfigured, but her appearance was less transparent, more opaque, almost solid.

She held a sign.

I felt the real world tugging at me. I had to read the sign. I gripped the curtains resisting the pull.

The sign said
JULIET’S MOTHER LOVES HER. DIED & TRIED TO PROTECT
.

I blinked and saw Joi staring down at me. My face was cold and wet.

“You fainted,” she said.

Sirens stopped nearby and I heard the scurry of feet.

“Just lie still,” Joi instructed. I heard wailing and sniffles around me.

“They’re in here.”

I heard voices I couldn’t identify talking loudly. I sat up. “I’m fine. It just happens sometimes.”

Joi tried to push me back to the floor. “You shouldn’t get up.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I moved out of the way as paramedics carrying a backboard walked in.

“That’s her. She’s not breathing.” Joi moved the EMTs toward Ms. Howard’s remains in the wheelchair.

I snuck out in all the chaos. Auntie had more for me. It made sense to me now. The side of the woman’s face that was undamaged looked just like a thirtysomething Juliet. I didn’t know why I hadn’t seen it before.

Tens still wasn’t back at the cottage, but the truck keys were on the kitchen table. I grabbed them before I could talk myself out of going to Dunklebarger.

W
ith Juliet weighing heavily on my mind, I was unable to walk calmly down the path toward Dunklebarger; I kept breaking into a jog. The birds seemed to sense my urgency because they took up the call. Ahead of and behind me in the woods, there were calls and chatter, from Canada geese honking to woodpeckers knocking staccato rhythms on tree trunks. The sun sank low behind the trees and the tilted, crazy feeling crawling in my stomach thrashed my insides.

Suddenly, Minerva pounced from behind a log, into
the middle of my path, startling me to a stop. “Crap!” I leaned over, winded, to catch my breath. “Uh, sorry? I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Last thing I needed to do was piss off a creature connected to the Creators. The way things were going I didn’t think getting struck by lightning for swearing was out of the question.

Minerva narrowed her golden eyes at me, almost willing me into a game of chicken. She twitched her tail in a dance that screamed volumes of displeasure. Then she meowed demandingly and stalked toward me.

I held my ground. Not because I felt the need to win chicken with a cat, but because I wasn’t sure how best to approach the situation. She was a Fenestra creature, but I still didn’t know if that meant she liked me or took exception to my oxygen consumption. I leaned toward the latter. Cats unnerved me with their lack of facial expression.

Standing at my feet, Minerva took a long, detailed look up my frame. Placed one set of front claws on my shin, then the second, inverting her spine and stretching in a yoga pose. The tug in my jeans was enough to tell me that, intended or not, she could very well shred my legs. She began purring like an engine revving and again meowed up at me, as if asking for … I had no idea what.

I reached down slowly, feeling as if I were about to pet a cobra. I ran my fingers lightly against the downy fluff along her cheeks. I’d once held a chinchilla that was our fifth-grade mascot. Petting Minerva’s fur was like petting that animal. Only Minerva didn’t fall over dead. I waited for a download like Tens had received while touching her. Nothing.

“Juliet’s mom. That’s who’s been trying to talk to me with Auntie. She loved her. Was she a Fenestra too? Can you tell me?” I scratched under the cat’s chin and the volume of her purring increased, but I didn’t get the freeze like Tens did. No knowledge from on high came surging at me. “How come it worked for him and not me?” I asked.

The cat turned away from me, flicked her tail in invitation. She ran in a comical gait, a hybrid of a bunny hop and a horse’s trot, before stopping and calling back to me in that overpowering meow. I swore I saw her nod in the direction of Dunklebarger as if to tell me we were late.
I am so losing my mind
.

“Lead the way.” I followed, this time staying in the woods, parallel to the path.

As we neared the last bend, I tripped, sprawling into the leaves and mud behind a fallen tree. “What the—” I broke off, spitting out hair as Minerva seemed to deliberately stuff her whole tail in my mouth.

That was when I heard the voices. I quieted as the cat stood on my chest and pointedly stared at me until I nodded. We were
hiding
. The low rumble of a man speaking and the clipped tones of a woman giving orders drifted over to us. My first thought was Tens and Juliet were meeting in secret, but that was jealousy listening, not my brain.

The woman harangued, “I knew I’d find you skulking about here. What if she sees you? It’s not time yet.”

“I wanted to see her, how she’s changed, before …,” a young man answered in a petulant whine.

“I didn’t authorize this. It makes no difference whether you still want her, Kirian.”

“Can’t we just tell her the truth?” He sounded like Sammy when he was told to take a bath and go to bed. Not an attractive voice for any age.

I held my breath, listening, trying to make sense of who these two people were. My little arm-hair warning system was on high alert. Nocti, maybe?

A stinging slap echoed. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion. When I want it, I’ll tell you what it is. Clear?” The woman’s tone was icy and completely in command.

“Yes, ma’am.” He sounded defeated.

“Good. Now, you must convince her to leave with you. That you’ll be together, visit Paris in April. Take her flowers. Seduce her. Be her Romeo.” He must have nodded, because the woman continued. “Good boy. I knew you’d be my perfect boy.”

My inner alarm shrieked at me. Fight or flight kicked into high gear. I’d only felt this once before, with Perimo.
Nocti?

I heard the sounds of kissing. The suck and smooch, gasping breath, moans of pleasure. I angled my head to peer under a curve of the tree, between the earth and the wood. Only a slit, really, but if I found the right angle I might be able to see them. Bingo. The woman was in steep stiletto heels, a tight pencil skirt, and yellow leather jacket, with black hair twisted in an elegant, complicated updo. She was a foot shorter than the boy, but she still somehow managed to tower over him. He might have been
cute, but the red lipstick smeared on his lips matched a bright handprint on his cheek. Sandy blond hair, all-American-quarterback look, like someone in an Abercrombie ad. I was too far away to get a look at his eyes, but his face was blank, crushed.

“Now, you do this little thing for me and we can run away together. Just like I promised.” She smoothed his hair and petted his cheek.

He nodded.

“When I drop you back at the apartment you must stay put. It’s not time yet. We have to set the stage with the Feast. So to speak. It’ll be fun.” She cackled. “Come.” They cut through the woods in front of me. I held perfectly still and watched. She towed him with a white-knuckled clamp on his arm. While he went with her willingly enough, he dragged his feet and didn’t help her maneuver in those heels over the broken, pitted path.

I lay there in the leaves, staring up at the sky and the clouds rushing past, until I was sure they wouldn’t see me. Nocti? Was it her? Him? Both? I wished I’d seen their eyes. If they were Nocti, I’d see the black in the sockets where eyeballs should have been. I wondered if, when Nocti looked at mine, they saw light glowing. I hoped I was never again in such close proximity to have that question answered. “Nocti?” I asked Minerva as she hopped over the log and back toward the path.