Page 40 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
“Well, now,” murmured Rook. “That’s not something we seeevery day.”
“Been a fair few centuries for me,” agreed Cyril.
Jiminy, who’d stolen up behind Rook, offered a soft whistle.“I thought there was a strict ban on photographing … her sort.”
Rook huffed. “My office. And ward it.”
He herded them to the back, and Cyril cheerfully crowded inwith them. Melissa explained what little she knew, and the two Amaranthineshared another long look, plus a few fleeting gestures.
Decision reached, Rook said, “Go quickly, and take Jiminy.”
“Want it warded?” he asked.
“Swiftly.”
Cyril asked, “How many acres?”
Melissa wasn’t sure of the exact number. “A little over twohundred, I think.”
“That’ll take some time. And an anchor.” Rook rubbed at theside of his face. “Stopgap measures for now. Take crystals from the stores. Ifyou need back-up … well, take your pick of the Woodacres.”
Jiminy rubbed his hands together. “It’s been a while since Ihad a challenge on this scale. I’d really like Kip, if you don’t mind mybringing him in. He’dlovethis!”
SEVENTEEN
Truth Be Told
The wheels of a large, black rolling case droned alongthe sidewalk. How long had it been since Jiminy left the scope of his own wards?As he puzzled through the past several weeks, which had passed in ordinaryways, he eased closer to Melissa until their shoulders bumped.
“Too close.” She warned him off with an elbow. “Are youtrying to run me off the road?”
“Not at all. Unless you want to take this cross-country.” Thecommuter lot was on the other side of a wide expanse of green lawn. “I’m alwaysup for a bit of a romp. All wolves are.”
Melissa frowned. “You’re not a wolf.”
“Raised by,” Jiminy countered. “It’s practically the samething.”
“It can’t be,” she argued. “You’re human.”
“I’m a person of reaver descent who’s been fostered by awolf pack since birth.” Jiminy really couldn’t remember any other life. “Rooksays I understand wolves better than humans, which makes me an excellentliaison for my pack … but an iffy barista at best.”
Her steps slowed. “You don’t have parents?”
His first impulse was to stick stubbornly to his usual rote—Iam a son of the Nightspangle pack. But Melissa wasn’t asking about who hadraised him. “All the reavers in the enclave where I was born have especiallystrong pedigrees. Thanks to certain resources and the support of theirAmaranthine partners, they’ve earned a reputation for producing children withpotent souls.”
Melissa stopped walking. “I’ve never heard of such a place.”
“You wouldn’t have.” Jiminy studied his feet. “Reavers inthat place are encouraged to halve the usual wait between pregnancies, but theyonly keep every other child. Even numbered children are fostered out; oddnumbered children remain with the enclave.”
“You were an even-numbered child?”
Jiminy nodded. “Clans with the right connections can applyfor a child, but they never really know what might come their way—gender,rating, aptitudes. The Nightspangle pack needed a ward. They took a chance andended up with me.”
“That’s quite a risk. What if you’d been a battler?”
“Both of my biological parents are wards, so the chanceswere better than fair.” Jiminy took a few steps to get her walking again. Shefollowed, but she was focused on him.
“Have you ever met your family?”
