Chapter Thirty-seven
~
The five of us were still loungin’ around the cracklin’ fireplace in the den. All evenin’, Mama and Papa had been as smooth as a troll’s favorite eel over Beky’s presence. I shouldn’ta been surprised. But it made me happy.
I got almost simultaneous texts a bit after ten. Papa gave me the eye, for allowin’ family time to be interrupted. I offered him a shrug. Yeah. I shoulda left my phone in my room. But to be fair, Alder, uh, Alex said he’d text me.
My eyes fell first on the message from Cordiz. “Naid’s suggestin’ the business could use a continental security presence. Me. Take over all the regional stuff—centralized. Sounds kinda cool. Bigger salary. Even more travel though. Whataya think?
I texted her back that I would call her in the mornin’, and pulled up Alder’s—Alex’s. He’d just stinkin’ landed! No warnin’, the twerp?
“Alder’s here?” Hale asked.
“Who’s Alder?” Mama asked.
“Post-pubescent wannabe from up North,” Papa said.
Made my jaw drop. Papa was coppin’ an attitude? Not that he’s a socially adept ogre, but not usually ballisticly hostile. I shot him a glare, then read the humor rollin’ from Hale—humor. From my autistic sibling. I split my glare up to smack him in the head. His humor turned a bit—best emotion I could put to it was, vindication.
“Here, what?” Mama asked. “Airport?”
I nodded, tryin’ to ignore the negative vibes comin’ from both Papa and Hale.
“Then ya better pick him up,” Papa said. “Don’t be out too late.”
That was a first. Don’t be out too late? After Hale and me bein’ self-monitorin’ since we were thirteen, didn’t expect that from him. I opted to take it—in a positive light.
“Ya don’t mind?” I asked.
“Rude of him not to give ya an earlier heads up. But—” He shrugged. “No sense makin’ a friend take a taxi.”
Mama was dartin’ him with a glare, which she turned to me as I was answerin’ Alex’s text. “This that human boy?”
That human boy. Ouch. Sure glad Beky didn’t get this hostility.
Beky asked if I’d like ’em to go with me. I told her that was nice, but declined. Hale burbled with an emotion I couldn’t translate. We shared a short bit of eye contact before I stood and excused myself. I was pretty sure Hale didn’t have any issue with Alex. At times he just finds somethin’ to tease me about, and this was an easy one. Did he know I was completely confused, myself, about Alex showin’ up here? Prolly.
The numerous round-abouts to reach East Slope were busier than I would have expected for a late Wednesday evenin’. At a particularly long backup, I texted Alex to warn him about the traffic. He texted back a smily-heart emoji.
At the airport, he stood alone, at the end of the movin’ sidewalk, shoulders hunched, as though he was tryin’ to keep his ears warm, hands in his pockets. Fool must not have texted me just after his plane landed. Prolly worked through Customs first; had to have been standin’ there a bit. Should have gone back into the terminal. Fool.
He jerked as I pulled up, as though asleep standin’ up. His eyes saucers, stared at the dark windows of Mama’s SUV. Duh. Ya gonna get in? I rolled down the passenger window, and he raised his chin to look in.
“Bele?” Okay, he stood in the bright light and I sat inside a dark vehicle, but who else could I be?
“Ya expectin’ someone else?” I asked.
Fool finally moved, and struggled to climb up into the cab. I tend to forget how little humans are. The thought almost made me laugh out loud. Hale—and a little orc. Me—with a little human. But I’m no way with a human.
He got his carry-on bag stuffed between the seats and in the back with my help, and grumbled, “I had no idea it was going to be so cold up here.”
I laughed. Maybe I shouldn’ta. But the poor human. Maybe he got as big a smile out of Hale and me dyin’ from the heat up North.
Pullin’ into the empty pull-forward lane, I said, “We’ll get ya a nice leather jacket in the mornin’.”
His embarrassment hit me pretty strongly. Yeah, I’ve always gleaned emotions from most everyone, but lately the—skill—has been in overdrive. His airfare here had put a dent in his discretionary spendin’. No wonder he didn’t argue about gettin’ put up in Papa’s cabin. So he wasn’t up to expandin’ his wardrobe, especially for somethin’ he’d never need up North.
He was rubbin’ his hands together. Even with the faint streetlight makin’ it through Mama’s dark tint, his face appeared pale as sleet. I checked the dash. Had the AC on low. So I turned from cool to warm. I could endure it. Turned it up a speed settin’.
“Thanks,” he said.
Hm. He was feelin’ stupid for bein’ here. I’m feelin’ stupid for him bein’ here. Would he be ticked if he knew I read him so easily? Should I tell him? If he finds out later, it could really blow up. But who says he has to ever find out? Heh. My stupid sibling, that is how.
He asked about Hale. Told him he had an appointment with a specialist in two days to get all the stitches out. Though I knew Hale had another reason to see Healer Tie. Alex started to explain how bad he felt about it again, and I shut him down quickly. That embarrassed him. Why?
“Dark up here,” he said.
I explained that moonlight didn’t sneak down inside the valleys. Told him studyin’ the stars from the peaks is to die for though. He nodded as though I spoke of miraculous thin’s. I remembered how silvery the city sky was up North at night.
The young man was about to burst with self doubt. I asked him what his parents thought about him comin’ down here. And his chest neared an explodin’ state. They didn’t know. And if they knew he was meetin’ an ogre-troll, they’d go nuts. Hm. In one way that was funny. In another. Pathetic. Mealy humans have no clue how great we giants are. Prolly best to avoid that conversation.
“If ya’re up to it,” I said, “Hale’s settin’ up a special adventure for us.” I looked down at his feet. He wore what humans call tennies. Even I would put on hikers to go up to the North Ridge, and it takes a lot to get an ogre or a troll in any kind of footwear.
He gave me a doe in headlights look. I told him a bit about the North Ridge.
“I should probably skip—it,” he said.
I shook my head. How’d I explain to him, that would be like skippin’ a chance to kneel before the gods and seek their wisdom? Even dwarves hold the memory of Ike and Taiz’lin with deference.
I had to be honest with him. “Ya pass this up, ya’re an idjit.”
He jerked a hard look my way. His hands, still gettin’ massaged in the flow of heat from the vents, stilled.
“I’ll pick ya up for breakfast early,” I said. “Then we’ll hit my favorite sporting goods store, get ya into the right gear. And ya don’t have to worry about the cost. I’m yar host,” I guess. “Not like it’ll put a dent in my budget.”
“You’re in med school. That has to be pretty expensive,” he said.
Oh, my gods! He didn’t know. How could he not know? I studied the dark outline of his face. No way he was sendin’ me false emotions. Should I tell him? Would that scare him away? Maybe that’s a good thin’.
Instead, I said, “I get a huge discount there, and have a wad of credit, for some stuff I’ve done.” The gods’ll be ticked at me. Nothin’ will go right for me for years. Might come down with the pox, or somethin’. There’s a reason we ogres don’t lie. It bites later, twice as hard.
“I can’t—”
“Shut up,” I half-screamed. Dragon pooh.
He jerked hard in his seat. I know I almost scared the dragon pooh right out of him. Poor humans. We scare them so much.
“Look,” I said. “I’ve already lied. Don’t make me make up more lies. We ogres don’t—we can’t—we’re pretty proud of never lyin’.”
Confusion washed about the poor human youngling. Man. He literally knows nothin’ about us. He needed this little trip, to expand his cultural knowledge. The fool.
“We just don’t lie, okay?” I hissed.
After a good pause, he asked, “What did you lie about?”
The nerve. I shook my head. Maybe I could stir a story about how close we are with our gods. That isn’t exactly a lie. But as Papa has said, “Avoidin’ the truth is as evil as stabbin’ an enemy in the back because ya don’t have the tusks to be honest.”
~
Hale
~
I knocked and counted toward five. But got permission to enter before I got to barge in on my own. I knew she was awake. I heard Bele’s tablet bleep at her, and sensed the grogginess of her mind twenty minutes ago. Dang weezit. I’m a witch.
Bele was still in bed, readin’ on her tablet still, or givin’ it a dirty glare for wakin’ her. I asked her what she was doin’.
“Readin’ my ogre Psalms,” she said.
Hm. “Ya lied, huh?”
She told me to shut up.
“Mama hung around in the den last night until she heard the garage door rise,” I said.
“I wasn’t late,” Bele said.
“Well. Forty-five minutes to the airport. Forty-five minutes to the cabin. Forty minutes to get home. Ya were pretty late.”
“I didn’t even show him around the cabin. Figgered even a stupid human can figger how to turn lights on and off, how a bathroom spigot works.”
“Stupid human, huh?” I mumbled.
She warned me not to make her mad. I considered my options. She could raise lots of embarrassin’ topics in front of Beky. Wasn’t my fault I was slow gettin’ out of diapers.
“What are ya embarrassed about?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away. “The fool doesn’t know Papa, the family, could be the banker for the stinkin’ gods.”
“Oh. Better read a couple more Psalms.”
“I don’t need this.” She plopped her tablet down hard on the coverlet and crawled out of bed. She wore troll-style, modest, mostly white pajamas covered with colorful little fish.
“Gift from my roommate,” she hissed.
I knew that. She asked if we wanted to join her and Alder, though she called him Alex, for breakfast. I knew she intended to take him to the Inn. Mama’s cookin’ expanded upon the place’s fame, so we could get the same fare here as there. But there’s somethin’ special about sittin’ among the ancient timbers of the Inn’s dining room.
There are a thousand thin’s that make the place special.
“So that’s a yes,” Bele said. “Stop botherin’ me and go wake up Beky.”
I explained she was already up and sharin’ a coffee with Papa. That surprised her. Not easy to surprise her about anythin’ goin’ on in our home.
~
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