Shadows (30 page)

“Ha,” I said. “I’ll take it up with Mom. But right now I need to borrow—several of them. Er. The big ones.”

She looked at me. “You know I trust you,” she said. “But . . .”

“The armydar,” I said. “It’s making Takahiro sick. Having critters around kind of—damps it, you know?”

She gave Takahiro a sharp look. In the office light he again looked grey, and it was like he’d lost weight just in the last few hours. He didn’t have any weight to lose. His face was all sharp angles like a connect-the-dots in a kids’ coloring book. She looked away again, at the Family. Several of them were picking up that there might be something going on. Jonesie, Bella, and Athena were looking from me to Clare and back again.

“Actually I do know,” said Clare. “I was thinking about sleeping on the sofa here tonight because the buzz in my head isn’t nearly as bad here as at home, even though it’s only the far side of the pony field.” The shelter stood on what had once been the orchard of Clare’s family’s farm. She lived in the old farmhouse.

She looked at Takahiro again and he smiled faintly. “Okay, since it’s you, hon,” she said to me. “But . . .” She stopped. “Who do you want? We’d better do the paperwork. We’ll just have a lot of ‘rehoming was not successful’ later. I’ll give you some dog food. And a blanket to put on the back seat. The big ones? I hope it’s a big back seat.”

“It’s pretty big,” I said.

Jill sighed, and went off to fetch the Mammothmobile.

One of Takahiro’s hands seemed to be welded to the top of Bella’s head, which was a good beginning. I also chose Athena and Jonesie and Dov, a Newfie cross who looked like a medium-sized bear, and Eld, which was short for Elder Statesman because that’s what he looked like, if elder statesmen were ever mastiffs. But the jowls and the look in the eyes were dead-on.

I was signing everything and Clare was dragging out a large bag of dog food when Majid came strolling in from whatever havoc he’d been creating outdoors. He looked around interestedly, twitching his tail. He took in the windowsill full of hissing, fluffed-out, bottle-brush-tailed cats and spurned them, as he usually did. Whatever was going on, he wanted his (un)fair share. He went straight up to Takahiro, lay down at Bella’s feet, and began purring.

Majid is the biggest Maine coon cat you’ve ever seen, and he doesn’t take any crap from
anybody.
This would be okay if he had a less all-inclusive definition of “crap.” I know Maine coons are mostly sweethearts, but Majid is a mutant. Clare had given up trying to rehome him. Most of the Family end up that way because nobody wants them—Bella’s too big, Athena has a torn lip from her racing days that healed so she looks like she’s snarling all the time, Jonesie is one big battle scar from before Clare rescued him from his previous so-called shelter and reformed him, and so on. Angela (spreading herself out ecstatically on the empty sofa) has only one eye; Mugwump growls at everybody. Majid, aside from being huge, is gorgeous—whorls of brown and mahogany with a little white on his chest and front paws—and people keep trying to adopt him because he’s so spectacular to look at, and can be very charming when he’s in the mood.

The mood never lasts long. He always comes back in a week or two having eaten the mailman or given the neighbors’ Rottweiler a nervous breakdown. He and Bella have reached an immovable object/irresistible force compromise, and he (mostly) accepts his role as a member of the Family, but Clare now locks him up (when she can catch him) when the shelter is open in case he takes a dislike to someone who, barring traumas involving a pissed-off saber-toothed tiger, might take one of our other tenants home with them.

“Oh, hi,” said Takahiro, surprised, and bent down to pet him with his other hand. Majid’s motor went into overdrive. When a thirty-pound cat purrs, the walls shake.

“No,” Clare and I said simultaneously. Taks looked up. Majid had rolled over and presented several acres of hairy belly for rubbing. Bella stood looking dignified (and disgusted). Athena and Jonesie turned their backs (which is a bit risky with Majid, although he was pretty good with the Family). Most of the cats on the windowsill were now staring in the opposite direction and trying to make their fur lie down, with mixed success. “We are
not
taking Mr. Destructo with us,” I said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever petted a cat before,” said Takahiro. “The undercoat is so soft.”

“That’s not a cat,” I said. “That’s Majid. He’s a force of nature. Any resemblance to a real cat is bogus.”

“I’ll get the gloves,” said Clare. Pretty much only Clare or I could remove Majid from somewhere he wanted to be, but it was still a good idea to be wearing gloves when you tried it. The Majid gloves were heavy leather gauntlets with the cuffs extending most of the way to your elbows. He
could
just bite your head off, but he (probably) wouldn’t to Clare or me.

The Mammothmobile pulled up and stopped. I heard the bang of Jill’s door. So did Majid. Furthermore he was smart. As soon as I started clipping leads on our new escort he would know exactly what was up. Clare had better hurry with those gloves. I went out to spread the blanket in the car. With the back seats down there was a lot of room, although we humans were going to be squashed in front with the bag of dog food. Plus three knapsacks and an algebra book.

“It’s kind of interesting you’re driving a car big enough for a wolfhound and a mastiff to get in the back of today,” I said.

“And a greyhound, a dark brown bear, and a brindle utility vehicle,” said Jill.

“Greyhounds don’t take up much room,” I said. “They’re like dog silhouettes. But why today? Usually the Mammothmobile is stuck to the side of your house by several months’ worth of cobwebs because nobody wants to pay for the gas.”

“Nah,” said Jill. “Greg takes it out at least once a month and runs over any small annoying children that have piled up in our neighborhood since the last time he took it out. But I had an f-word moment this morning—although I didn’t know it was going to be animals. I almost funked out at the gas station. Mammoth gets the mileage of like the space shuttle.” She was tucking a corner of blanket under the seat, where it might conceivably stay put for twenty seconds after twenty paws started clawing at it. “What’s Mongo going to think?” she said.

“Mongo will be thrilled,” I said. “It’s bringing them back again that’s going to be hard.”

Clare had reappeared with the gloves at last and gingerly picked Majid up. He went ominously limp—you have the idea that cooperation is not Majid’s central reason for living—while Jill and Takahiro and I took the dogs out to the car and persuaded them to jump in the back. We started with Bella because what she did the others would all do, but she was too tall. We had to straighten her forelegs out and then lift her back end up and shove. I got the front end and Taks got the back. She put up with all this with her usual supernatural courtesy. “What a good girl,” I said, and gave her a dog biscuit, which made all the other ones want a dog biscuit too, so the rest of the loading was pretty easy, if ridiculous. It was
very
crowded back there, although everyone was looking bright-eyed and interested. It should be okay: they slept in heaps most of the time anyway.

I slung a bag of kibble almost as big as I was on the front seat. There were going to be four of us: Jill, Takahiro, me and a bag of dog food. Even the Mammoth wasn’t
that
large a car. I stuffed a few cans of wet food in the footwell under the folded-down back seat.

“I’ll get in the middle,” I said. When I wasn’t dealing with immediate stuff, like funneling five large dogs into a three-and-a-half large dogs’ space, my brain kept reverting to
where are the gruuaa where have they gone and why?
Hix was still wrapped around my neck, but she was too still, and if a feather boa could be stiff she was stiff. I couldn’t tell if my increasing sense of doom was just the
gruuaa’s
absence or something else: the armydar was making me stupid in spite of Hix, and we were about to leave the relative safety of the shelter and go back out on the street. Both Jill and Takahiro looked a little drawn, and Clare looked positively wasted, but that might have been because she was carrying a deadly weapon with a history of sudden unpredictable detonations.

Takahiro jammed himself in beside me while Jill started the car. There was a little panting going on in the back seat but I hoped nothing too severe. Jonesie was trying to get at the cans of dog food but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t succeed. And even with a Staffie’s jaws he probably wouldn’t be able to open them. Probably.
“Ow,”
I said.

“Sorry,” said Taks, and scooped my legs up and draped them over his knees. “Oh,” I said, startled.

I could hear Jill trying not to laugh as she said, “More.”

“Okay,” said Taks agreeably, rearranging my legs so they were over only one of his knees. Then he put his arm around me. I felt myself nestling up to his side as if I wanted to be there—I also felt myself blushing so hotly my head might explode and never mind the armydar. Jill put the Mammoth in gear and we started rolling downhill toward the gate. The pressure increased immediately: it was so bad you could almost hear it, although maybe that was just the bones of your skull grinding together. “Drive slowly,” said Takahiro.

“Of course,” said Jill. “There are a lot of loose animals in the back seat.”

As if on cue Bella put her head through the gap in the headrest. “Oh, sweetie,” I said. “I hope you’re all all right back there.” Bella, who was usually pretty reserved, lowered her massive head and gave me a brief lick with a tongue the size of a bath towel. I instantly felt better, and Hix stirred like someone waking out of a deep, drugged sleep. My head cleared—although whether it was more the armydar or Taks’ nearness that was messing me up I don’t know. I could feel Taks’ breath against my hair. If I snuggled—I mean turned—just a little bit, I could rest my cheek against his shoulder. This would be a good thing, because then maybe Hix would curl around him too. That was all I was thinking about. I wasn’t thinking about the warm weight of his arm around me, the way it tucked under my elbow so the long-fingered hand could lie palm up in my lap. I hadn’t thought about how long Taks’ fingers were since he had been that silent little boy folding paper. It was only because I was worried about how my old friend was doing that I picked up his hand and held it with both of mine. But I felt him relax a degree or two—like I had when Bella had licked me.

“Oh, big hulking suckfest,” said Jill. There was an army truck turning in at the gate, with the cobey unit logo splashed on its side.

“Pretend to ignore them,” I said. “Keep going.”

“They won’t be for us,” said Jill. “Not specifically.”

“I don’t want to find out,” I said. “Remember we’ve lost our
gruuaa.
”

“Yes,” said Jill. “I’m missing the sparkly shadows.”

The army vehicle had clearly seen us . . . and they wanted us to stop.

“Don’t stop unless they aim a zapper at us,” I said.

“Drog me,” said Jill. We kept rolling down the hill. The army guys didn’t quite want to turn in front of us, maybe because there wasn’t room, maybe because the Mammoth made even an army van nervous. But they went up the hill like someone who was planning on turning around and coming down again in a hurry. We got to the gate and Jill was bumping onto the main road and I was just saying, “You might turn up Rodriguez, they might not see us by the time they—” when there was a terrified scream from Clare, a shriek of overstressed brakes and . . . the sound of a large heavy metal object slamming into a cement post, like the ones that line the shelter driveway.

“Wow,” said Jill, looking in her rear view mirror.

“Did they miss him?” I said.

“What?” said Jill. She looked back at the road in front of her and finished turning. Then she turned again, down Rodriguez. Even the Mammoth knew it was carrying a load: you could feel it settle on the corners. There was the sound of scrambling in the back, but the panting wasn’t any worse. “I don’t think they’ll be following us any time soon,” Jill added.

“Go to the end of the road and stop,” I said.

“What?” said Jill again. “What do you mean, did they miss him?”

Even if some overeager army drone raced down to the gate and looked for us, they wouldn’t be able to see us sitting at the end of Rodriguez. “Just stop,” I said. “Please.”

She stopped. “You can kiss her if you want,” she said. “I won’t mind. And you’ve got a major bag of dog food for chaperone.”

“I—
what
?” I squeaked. I turned, but somehow I turned the wrong way. I put a hand out—just to steady myself. The dog food was trying to shove me farther into Taks’ arms. I wasn’t entirely sure Jill hadn’t given it a push from her side. My hand was on Taks’ shoulder. His arm tightened. His other hand reached across, smoothed down the back of my head, cupped my chin briefly. And then he kissed me.

Jill opened her door and got out. “I’m going to move those cans,” she said. “The clink, clink, clink is really annoying.”

This was so totally the wrong moment. Not to mention the tactical difficulties. I wound my arms around Taks’ neck (Bella gave the nearer one another lick as it slid past) and kissed him back. I unwrapped one arm so I could pull my fingers slowly through his incredibly thick hair. He moved a little, and slid one hand under me so he could lift me the rest of the way onto his lap. Fortunately the Mammoth had amazing headroom, even if not quite enough for a wolfhound. Taks’ other hand patted leisurely, delicately down my back—I shivered. He pulled me closer to him. I couldn’t get any closer.

Jonesie put his head through the gap between Taks’ headrest and the door. I could see him checking the situation for dog biscuit probability. And then I kind of lost track. I’d kissed a few boys before, but nothing like this. I had a sudden,
extremely
flustering memory flash of Taks’s long naked back in the bathroom mirror. . . .

There was a soft thud, and purring. Jill was just closing the rear door. I sighed, and let myself sag back a little. Taks let me go. Sitting on his lap made me seem as tall as he was: I never looked straight into his face like this. He smiled. Cheekbones to die for. How could I never have noticed?