Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

“It’s weird. If you’re a mammal, it’s weird. For us, the idea of unplanned pregnancy and cross-breeding with related species like it’s no big thing is weird. We are separated by a gulf of ‘biology shouldn’t work that way,’ and it’s all very sad. Let me.” Ananta put down her cooler and walked over to crouch next to the soda machine, sticking her arm in the slot. “Anyway, I had two older sisters, and there are never that many potential husbands to go around. And it’s not like I tried all that hard. I like being a big sister. I’m excited to be an aunt. I never particularly wanted to be a mother. Part of our social structure involves unmarried, unimprinted females who can move freely through the territory of mated adult males without causing problems, so my parents don’t care.”

Ananta bounced back to her feet, holding a can out to Sam with a small smile on her face. “Think it’s going to be as easy for you?” she asked.

“I don’t understand how you can talk about this stuff in the open like it’s not going to get us all killed,” he muttered, cheeks red, as he took the soda.

“Easy: I know it’s not going to get us all killed.” Ananta retrieved the cooler. “There’s caution and then there’s paranoia. My baby brothers are cobras who like to watch Cartoon Network and write angry Tumblr posts about mistreatment of snakes. I chose to be a spinster when I was nine years old, and I never looked back. I’ll always be cautious. But I refuse to let a bunch of human assholes force me to live my life in fear. See you at breakfast.” She waved and walked back to her room, leaving Sam to watch her go.

“Huh,” he said, and cracked open his soda.

Maybe Mary was back by now.



* * *





MINDY


The cup was paper; the person who had dropped it was running away, perhaps in fright, but more likely, I feared, to find one of the humans who patrolled the airport. My time, such as it was, was short.

Leaping down from the vehicle, I ran to the cup, darting around the feet of startled travelers. A few of them stomped at me, but they were slow and I was quick, and I evaded them with ease.

Someone screamed. I ignored them, even as every instinct I possessed told me to run, to flee, to Not Be Seen. I wore no finery, no regalia that might identify me to the uninitiated as a priest of the Precise Priestess. They would see only an ordinary mouse.

Let them think this airport infested. Let them think whatever small, human things they liked. They would not approach the borders of the truth, and I had something left to save.

The cup was paper. Paper can be shifted. I reached it and threw all my weight against it, trying to topple it onto its side, away from Mork. Someone gasped.

“Look, it’s trying to get to its friend,” one of the humans said, in a puzzled tone, like they could not comprehend fellow-feeling from something as small as Mork or I. I flung myself against the cup again and again, until it began to shift, until it began to topple.

The cup was paper. Paper yields. I struck the cup again and it fell. Mork was there, curled into a ball, trembling with fear. I ran to him, butted my head against his flank, touched his ear with my paw.

“Come,” I squeaked, voice so low that I knew the humans would not hear, not with all the noise and bustle of the airport. “We must go.”

He uncurled, and when he beheld me, there was nothing but wonder in his eyes. I fanned my whiskers, bumping my head into him once more before I ran, and he, O thanks be to all the gods who have come and gone and who have yet to be, he ran beside me, keeping pace, uninjured enough to do so.

A few humans screamed. We did not slow or look back at them. Let them shriek. They might make our passage more difficult, but they would not prevent it. We were together. We were, in the moment, invincible.

Ahead was a small semicircle cut out of the airport passageway, filled with eating places. It was not where we had entered, but we recognized the design all the same, and darted into its dubious safety. The shrieks faded behind us. We ran under a counter, and from there into a kitchen, and from there to the door which led to the employee tunnels, out of public view.

It was much quieter there. We concealed ourselves behind a stack of boxes. Then, and only then, did I turn to Mork and begin running my paws over him, searching for signs of injury. He squeaked when I pressed on the side of his chest; I suspected a broken, or at least bruised, rib. His breathing was steady and even. His limbs moved with ease.

I put my paws over my eyes, sank down onto my haunches, and trembled.

“O my love, who is my love, who is my beloved,” he squeaked, nosing at my ears. “I am well, I am well. See, only look, and see me here revealed.”

Some words—some rituals—predate any of the religions we have known, go all the way down to the root of what it is to be Aeslin, the place where our faith cleaves close to our long-shadowed beginnings. He spoke to me as one half of a formally mated couple, wed under the auspices of the gods, blessed by our trials together. It was the wrong choice. It was the only choice. After what we had been through, any other wedding would be a sham and a show, intended only to confirm what the gods already knew.

I trembled harder, shaking as if I no longer understood the shape of my own skin. “I thought you were dead,” I squeaked.

“I know, and I am sorry.” He nosed my ears again, whiskers tickling. “Look at me.”

I lowered my paws. He touched his nose to mine, whiskers pressed so far forward that his lips lifted, exposing his teeth. I did the same, and as our whiskers intertwined, I knew that this was real. He had survived. I had saved him. We were still terribly far from home, but we were still together as well. Perhaps we could yet be victorious.

“There you are,” he said.

I slicked my whiskers back with a small, hiccupping laugh. “You frightened me.”

“I was afraid as well. The foot which struck me came with great speed. I thought I might be joining the gods this day.” Mork looked suddenly unsure. “Would they have me, who is so near to being a heretic?”

“If they refused you, I would scale the walls of Heaven to break the locks and welcome you inside,” I said gravely.

He brushed his whiskers against mine again, and I was not so pregnant, nor was our position so precarious, that I could not accept his invitation for what it was. We moved to the deepest shadow and performed the oldest ritual of them all, which worships the Aeslin and our continuation, and has no need for any outside gods.

When we were finished, he licked the fur atop my head back to acceptable smoothness and we ran, the two of us together, moving in matching, harmonious strides as we raced the length of the hall. We knew the direction of the gate we sought. We would need to return to the public halls soon enough, to find a way to board the airplane without being caught, but for now, it was safer to stay here, out of sight, running.

Running, together, and free.



* * *





SAM


Everything about this day was conspiring to give Sam a headache. It was the kind of day that would normally have had him fleeing for the trapeze, where he could work some of the stress out through sheer physical activity. Not really an option when they were all crammed into tiny motel rooms. Jogging laps around the parking lot might work, only it would probably attract attention and maybe someone would call the police.

In the end, he had resorted to the only thing that seemed even halfway sensible: the roof. Getting up there wasn’t hard. All he had to do was take the stairs to the third floor, climb the maintenance ladder to the locked hatch, reach around to the edge of the roof itself, and then pull himself up. No big deal. He tried not to do it, like, every day, since he could only get caught once before it was forbidden, but at least it was a big open space where he could be alone.

(He had to stay human while he was up there, damn the luck, since several of the surrounding buildings were taller than the motel. But even humans could do yoga, and sit-ups, and since he was weaker in this shape, it was probably better to wear it while he was working out. The benefits of improving his human muscle tone were magnified when he transformed, rather than being reduced.)