Page 13 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Colt’s laugh was a friendly sort of nicker. As he passed by, balancing cases, he said, “Celibate is the usual term.” He gave it in Japanese, too. “There are no females in the heights, so Sinder isn’t used to these small attentions.”
Zuzu promised, “I will be gentle.”
Sinder wriggled free and dove back into the water, surfacing at a safe distance.
Akira called, “That’s perfect! Hey Sinder, Fumiko wanted to see your dragon form.”
He ducked under, pulling down a swirl of fanning hair. A moment later, the water swelled, and sparkling scales breeched the surface before vanishing again.
Several yards out, a dragon burst from the water, flipping in midair before diving under again.
“Quite the sight, isn’t he?” remarked Colt, who’d returned for more luggage.
Fumiko nodded, then shook her head.
“Is something troubling you?”
There certainly was. This was all so strange. “They really only ever send humans. They certainly never send celibates.”
“Well …? I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Colt ventured uncertainly. “And look. Here’s my good friend. Come along, Hallow. Greet our hostess.”
The fifth guest swept up, his cloak rippling just above the weathered boards of the dock. He was easily as pale as Sinder, but his hair was black, and when he bowed over Fumiko’s hand, the eyes that lifted to hers were large, thick-lashed, and deeply, darkly red.
“How do you do? My name is Hallow Brunwinger.” His aristocratic air was accompanied by a British accent. “Thank you for giving shelter to our little group.”
His ears came to points, as did his teeth and nails. All typical of the Amaranthine. But his touch was puzzling. Fumiko remarked, “You feel different.”
“I would, I suppose.” He passed a long, slender case to Colt, who shouldered it. “Let’s have it done, then.”
In one smooth motion, he flicked back his cloak and lifted his arms. A grand gesture that momentarily distracted from the velvety drape of … something. Fumiko dropped to a crouch, her arms around her knees as she tried to understand what she was looking at.
“Wings,” he offered blandly. “Or a close approximation. I belong to one of the bat clans, but my father was a reaver. I’m half human.”
“I know about crossers,” said Zuzu, hand reaching. “Ash Sunfletch is a crosser. He visited us.”
“Ah, ah!” Hallow caught her wrist, smiled, and said, “I am very ticklish.”
Rather than be offput, Zuzu shimmied in delight. “He’s good, too, Sister! How will we choose?”
But the matter of choosing was shelved like a book in the Jacaranda Free Library thanks to the arrival of its founder. Fumiko hastily straightened and smoothed at her skirt. Diva wasn’t smiling, and that was rare. What had put thunder in her soul?
“Kindred,” she called, her deep voice rolling across the water. “If you would gather in, our ward needs to resettle our safeguards.”
At that moment, the dragon executed another capering leap.
His splash was met by a low growl. Diva had little tolerance for shenanigans.
“Beg pardon, ladies.” Fingers to lips, Colt whistled a piercing note.
Sinder shot to him, changed to speaking form underwater, and accepted Colt’s offered hand up. Dripping on the dock, Sinder kept a wary eye on Zuzu. Which was silly. Diva was the one he should be worried about. Her good opinion was more precious than pollen.
“No introductions, no time. I only have a fifteen-minute break, and that’s half gone.” She gave them each a long, hard look. “Call me Diva. Everyone does. I’m an undisclosed, and I’ll be in the library. Portia, they’re all yours.”
And with that, she stalked away, right past a willowy woman whose tanned face was creased by long life and laughter. Fumiko caught Portia’s impish wink and relaxed. Whatever was upsetting Diva, it would pass quickly. Probably as soon as the barriers were reestablished.
Akira sidled up to her. “Is Diva a … security guard?”
Fumiko replied, “She is our strength. And she is our librarian.”
