Page 62 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
“Yes,” she whispered in wonderment. “How many cubs?”
“Three.”
Swallowing against a wistful wanting, Melissa said, “Congratulations.To both of you.”
“Thank you.” With his gaze firmly averted, Doon-wen asked,“May I see your assessment folio?”
Such a request coming from an Amaranthine was considered acompliment. A higher one than she’d offered. Stroking through True’s thick fur,Melissa said, “On one condition.”
Doon-wen flicked his hand, inviting negotiation.
“Will you tell me about your name?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Nesting Instincts
Ash was beginning to wish he’dcalled in sick. As much as he loved his job, Kip’s absence cast a pall on the schoolday. No surprise. It wasn’t as if he took his best friend for granted. Ash knewbetter than anyone how much Kip took on. No, the source of his malaise wasn’tthe change-up in their usual routine—even though same-old, same-old was hispreferred order of business—but in Kip’s destination.
Red Gate Farm.
Jiminy had asked for help warding Tami’s home. Which couldmean anything or nothing, if not for the family’s telltale surname. Especiallyif you reckoned in the family jewels. That necklace. Kip figured that Tami hadbeen heavily warded from a very young age. An unregistered reaver. Which couldmean anything or nothing.
Or everything.
Ash ran a rag over his squeegee and hung it from the hook onhis belt, moving along to the next set of windows. Wasthatthe reasonfor Tami’s appeal? Had his Amaranthine half been subconsciously picking up onsome quality of soul, stirring his appetite?
No. At least, Ash seriously doubted it.
He’d been around more than his fair share of reavers—maleand female—and none of them appealed to any kind of baser instinct. Ash didn’tgo in for tending, didn’t crave it the way Kip did. So Tami interested him forsimpler reasons. She was his choice.
And he’d never felt more vulnerable in his life.
Maybe it was time to listen to Kip, to call in Cyril, totalk to Rook.
Shaking out his rag, he swiped at a lingering streak and staredunseeing at the brilliant blue showing through patchy clouds. He needed to tellTami. Soon. Before his secret came out another way. Before the reavers madeother plans for Tami, ones that didn’t involve the confused pinings of anunacknowledged crosser.
Once Tami was back, they’d talk.
Even though his pledge would likely shatter him. The handfulof decades would pass, and her human life would fade, and he would be alonewith his grief.
If he survived the sorrow, it would probably be thanks toKip.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
She might reject him as a monstrosity. The reavers mightfind out and make him a test subject … or a celebrity. The clans could object. Questionsof parentage might arise. And even if, by some miracle, Tami embraced the wholeof him, his desires might doom her. A child of mixed heritage—surely even onewith quarter blood—often ended their mother’s life when making their way intothe world.
Ash’s hand wavered and fell to his side. It was like he’dtold her last night. “I shouldn’t.”
He’d been afraid to tell her why.
Still was.
“I shouldn’t,” he repeated. Returning his squeegee to itsplace, he touched the blue paperclip at his collar and whispered, “But I still wantto.”
He plodded through empty halls toward the security of thejanitorial closet to stow his supplies, trying to figure out the best way tosteer a conversation along the perilous courses he would need to navigate.
Like not officially existing.
