His husky chuckle was pure sin. “You never did say why you were skulking around in Mom’s garden.”
Glad for the safer conversational ground, I extended my hand so he could see. “I came to retrieve Keet.”
His lip curled as he processed what I was holding. “Your zombie parakeet?”
A bird pecks at one brain and people start throwing around derogatory terms.
“He’s not a zombie.” Sure, his flight patterns were off, but he didn’t shamble through the air or anything.
He nodded his chin to indicate the corpse. “Is resuscitating him kosher?”
“It’s not a resuscitation. He was already dead, or undead. Whatever. All I did was bring him back from limbo and anchor him in his body.” I showed him the blackened symbol charring my palm. “I was on my way to work when the locator sigil activated. I found him out here. Guess your little brother buried him rather than face the music with your parents.”
“He was on restriction for not cleaning the water bowl before refilling it last time we talked.” Boaz scratched his side, a grin tugging on his lips. “He must have figured hiding the body was better than another week of laundry detail.”
“Poor kid.” I combed through the blades of grass with my fingers until I found the discarded brush, its ends clotted with ink. “I’m guessing no one told him Keet can’t starve to death?”
“Nope.”
No doubt that was all his idea.
“Come on, Squirt.” He leveraged into a seated position, his abs flexing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt—not that I noticed—then rolled to his feet in a motion so smooth he must have practiced it. “I’ll walk you home so you don’t get into more trouble.”
At barely eight o’clock on a Friday night, with a full moon to boot, Boaz seriously underestimated my skills.
Two
My feeble attempts at ignoring Boaz were about as successful as the time I tried resuscitating a T-rex skeleton at a natural history museum when I was eight. A security guard hauled me in front of Maud and explained how I had been caught painting the dinosaur bones red. She had laughed, brayed really, until tears streamed down her face and streaked her mascara. To prevent gums from bumping about the incident, she made a sizable donation to ensure the local media outlets wouldn’t come sniffing around for coverage of the chubby-faced vandal with artistic aspirations.
The Society for Post-Life Management was about as forgiving of such indiscretions as an old-money wife spotting a nouveau-riche neighbor wearing white after Labor Day.
The third member of our trio that day had been Linus, Maud’s nephew. He was five years older than me, so thirteen at the time, and he had spent that weekend with us. Call it a hunch, but I always suspected he was the one who’d tattled to the mortal authorities.
Even as a kid, he had been as stuffy as a taxidermied moose.
The short walk home thawed my limbs, and my unexpected arrival so soon after departing meant Woolly didn’t have time to mount an offensive. I strolled right in, Boaz on my heels, and headed straight for the kitchen. I set Maud’s bag on the table in plain sight to remind me to wash out the brush before returning her supplies to storage then patted the squirmy lump nestled in the front pocket of my T-shirt.
“Look who’s back,” I called out to Woolly. “Our old pal Keet.” I jerked my chin in Boaz’s direction. “Oh yeah. This weirdo followed me home too.”
The light cast from the overhead fixtures swelled with such bright joy I had to squint to bear the glare. Cupboard doors flapped open on their hinges, sounding like a round of applause as they bumped off the base cabinets, and he took a sweeping bow.
“Up high.” His palm smacked an upper cabinet door that swung out to meet him. “Down low.” He switched hands, and the lower cabinet bounced off his palm. Darting past me, he leapt up and tagged one of the smaller cabinets above the fridge before she guessed his next move. “Too slow.”
“Okay, kids.” I shoved him onto a barstool at the counter. “No running or jumping in the house.”
The lights overhead dimmed to normal levels, minus the occasional surge as happiness shot through her wiring.
“You hungry, boy?” I gathered a wriggling Keet in my hand. “You’re always peckish after rising.”
A weak chirp melted me into a puddle of goo. I really had missed the little guy. My tiny family, such as we were, was now complete. Woolly, Keet, Amelie, Boaz and me. The gang was back together again.
“What are your plans for the night?” I wedged a stopper in the deep farmhouse sink then shredded a few paper towels to make a comfortable nest. Keet’s poor little stick legs proved too wobbly to support him just yet, so I placed him on his side and went to make good on my offer. “Anything interesting?”
“My next stop is home. I’ve had all the interesting I can handle for one night.”
“Home?” I glanced up at him. “Your parents don’t know you’re back yet?”
“Figured I’d surprise them.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure the commander would let me go.” His gaze flicked up to mine. “This wasn’t my first attempt. More like my third.” He rubbed the base of his neck. “I was pissed at you, yeah, but I filed paperwork the day Amelie told me you got out. I wasn’t staying away to punish you. Or me. Or hell, both of us. I came as soon as I could without having desertion charges brought up against me.”
“You’re here now.” In my house. In my kitchen. In my life. “That’s all that matters.”
“It’s really not, Squirt.” His arms fell to his side. “How are you here? Why did they let you go?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “No one told me. Even if they did…”
A sentinel had written my home address on a sticky note and pinned the yellow square to my shirt like I was a kid about to ride a school bus for the first time instead of an inmate with the mental capacity of a kindergartener. He escorted me onto the plane, and I flashed the note at the first taxi driver to approach me after I landed, just as I had been instructed. The nice old man with his crooked smile had taken me to Woolly, hooked his arm in mine, walked me up to the door, and said in a crackling voice, “You’re home.”
That girl? The one who stumbled reading that sequence of numbers and letters, who wondered why the combination sounded so familiar? She had asked no questions. Not a single one. And I didn’t blame her.
“Grier…” The way he rumbled my name was better than being wrapped in a warm blanket. “If you ever need to talk about what happened…”
“Thanks.” My throat worked over a hard lump. “But I can’t.”
“I get that.” He kicked out his amputated leg. “I understand witnessing horrors you can’t put into words. I’m just saying I’m here. You need to talk, you come to me. Understand?”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “What about Amelie?”
“I don’t care who you talk to as long as you open up to someone when the time comes.” He flashed me a crooked grin. “But I’m willing to make out with you to help take your mind off things after. Amelie won’t go the distance like I will.”
I almost swallowed my tongue.
To give my cheeks time to cool, I turned my back on him. I kept a basket of fresh veggies from the greenhouse on the counter near the fridge. I grabbed a box grater from a drawer then selected a carrot and started shredding Keet a snack. I would have to buy him fresh seed and a cuttlebone tomorrow. I could afford those if I skimped on dinner this week. I’d also have to hike the stairs leading up into the attic and find his old cage and floor stand. Unless I could con Boaz into doing the work for me.
The blare of Boaz’s cellphone ringing made me jump on my way back to the sink, and a few veggie shreds spilled from my fingers before I could catch them and mound them with the rest in Keet’s temporary nest.
“Hey, sis,” Boaz answered, still laughing. “How did you know—?” His gaze bored a hole through my spine. “Figures.” He grunted. “I’m still not convinced Mom didn’t have us microchipped.” A pause. “Yeah, I’ll remind her.”