Pyromantic Page 20

  Lock joined him, and they did their own cursory examination. “Well, I know it’s not exactly a live sample,” Lock said after he was finished looking, “but I say we bag it and take it back to the doctor. Have her examine it.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I held out my hand for a bag. When no one handed me one, I took my hand back and settled my elbows on my knees. This position was going to be comfortable for about another minute. After that, torture. “No one grabbed the collection kit Alistair sent with us?”

  Ezra shrugged. “I don’t carry things. Sets a bad precedent.” We both looked at Lock. He scowled. Ez and I kept staring, our faces expectant. Over the years, we’d perfected the we’re not going to ask you, but clearly we expect you to do this for us face. I’d learned it from Ezra. I think he was born with it.

  Lock’s scowl deepened before he stalked off, muttering. I’m not sure what he said, but I’m pretty sure I heard “ingrates,” which sounded about right to me.

  “He sure is handsome when he scowls.” Ezra held up a gloved hand to block the sun from his eyes. “I’ve never managed the brooding look well, myself. I prefer a more gentlemanly, world-weary, man-about-town sort of approach. Sophistication, Ava. It goes a long way.”

  “I will get Sylvie to make you an entire batch of whoopie pies if you tell him he’s pretty when he scowls,” I said. “I bet he’ll really like that.”

  Lock returned, holding out the kit. I took it from him, while Ezra clasped his hands under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes at Lock.

  “Do I want to know why you’re making that ridiculous face right now?”

  “We were just discussing how much you rock the scowl. Your eyes get all stormy and your jaw squares. Swoonworthy, that’s what it is.” Ezra held out his hand to me and snapped his fingers. I had to set the kit down so I could shake his hand and seal the deal. I now owed him a batch of Sylvie-made heaven in cookie form.

  “You are a ridiculous man,” Lock said, but his scowl was gone, which was probably why Ezra had started the discussion in the first place.

  Ezra adjusted his latex gloves. “Please, it’s only one of my many charms.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I said, opening the kit. Once we had the bags, we began the incredibly fun process of trying to pry the sample up without actually damaging it even more. Between the sun and the salt air, it was practically glued to the wooden planks. For reasons I didn’t want to examine, the kit included a putty knife, but even with that it was a slow process. Lock and Ezra went back to searching while Kat and I collected. It was slow going until Kat had an idea.

  She handed me the Ziploc freezer bag and pushed my putty knife away. “Let me try something.” She held her hands out, fingers splayed in a relaxed pose. The air temperature around us dropped, and the area around the carcass frosted. Katya dropped her hands. “I don’t want to chill it too much. It might shatter more. But I’m thinking the cold will make it contract and counteract some of the stickiness, so maybe it will be easier to scrape off. You know, like when you have to scrape chewing gum off stuff.”

  I got back to work with my putty knife. “Can’t say I’ve ever done that, but you’re welcome to do your thing at any time today. I’m roasting, and standing next to you is the next best thing to air-conditioning.”

  Katya gave me a faint smile. “My dad caught me putting my gum under a picnic table once. He made me go back with a putty knife like that one and scrape all the gum off from the underside of the table, even though it wasn’t mine. It was disgusting. He took pity on me halfway through and froze the underside of the table. It went a lot faster after that.” Telling the story lit up her face, which just made it hurt that much more when the light died and she remembered that her parents were gone now.

  I pretended that I didn’t notice. Some people liked to talk their grief out. For others, that was the last thing they wanted to do. I’d let Katya choose.

  “Does it get any easier?” She cleared a spot and sat down. “I know they say time heals all wounds and all that garbage, but I just can’t believe it. It feels like there’s this big gaping hole out there and I’m a half step away from being sucked into it at any moment.” Her voice thickened and she fell quiet, staring at her gloves. “They were my parents. How will time make anything better? When will it ever stop being the biggest thing in my life?”

  I cleared my own spot and sat, tetanus be damned. “I can’t tell you how it will be for you. Some people, it rolls right off their backs, like water off a duck. They go on living, and they can talk about their loss in therapy and read some books about grief or the afterlife or whatever and everything seems tickety-boo.” A lock of hair fell out of my knot and stuck to my sweaty temple. I shoved it back with my wrist. “That held no appeal for me. Losing my mom…” I trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it. “It hurt. I felt gutted and strange. And I couldn’t get over the fact that someone so significant was gone and the world kept turning and I was supposed to turn with it. How? How could anyone do that? It was like being a marionette with cut strings, and that was with Cade’s help.” I pushed the putty knife gently under the snail carcass. The cold really was helping it come away. “I can’t say it goes away and everything gets better. There are some days where I feel such an ache for her—her voice, her smell, a hug. I’d kick a sad monkey for a hug from my mother.” The carcass slid free, and Katya held out the baggie for me. With gentle hands, I placed it inside and pressed the seal closed.

  “And then there are days where I don’t think about her. I think that’s the biggest change. You go from thinking about them every second, to every few minutes, to every few hours. Then days, if you’re lucky. I still miss her. It still hurts, and I don’t think the heartache will ever fully go away, but I can breathe now. I can live and not be constantly miserable.”

  “Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?”

  I scraped the putty knife off onto the planking. There was a little sticky residue on it. “Sometimes, but she wouldn’t want me to live like that. She wouldn’t expect me to not miss her, but my mom wouldn’t want me to be miserable.”

  Katya stood up and offered me a hand. I took it, and she hauled me up. “I don’t think my parents would want me to feel that way, either.” As she stood before me, staring out at the water watching a boat of lobstermen haul in some of their traps, I could see her trying to pull herself together.

  I placed my gloved hand on her shoulder. “I never met them, but surely they’d understand that these things take time. Don’t let anyone tell you how your grief should run. It’s yours. It takes as long as it takes. I think rushing it can be just as wrong as letting it linger.”

  “Thanks.”

  I straightened up, trying to unkink my back. “I was lucky enough to have Cade. He let me miss her but didn’t let me turn her into a saint, either. He always stressed remembering her as she was, faults and all.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and let me tell you, I could have done without the story of the first time they skinny-dipped.”

  Katya laughed. “You’re kidding me. Why would he tell you about that?”

  I slipped the putty knife into its own bag. “I’m not sure. I think it was to give me an example of something I should avoid doing, but I can’t remember what we were actually talking about. He told me Duncan caught them.”

  Her eyes went wide. “The Duncan I’m staying with? What did he do?”

  I snorted. “Said if he caught them again, he’d join in, and nobody wanted that.”

  “No way!” She shuddered. “Duncan is a really nice man, but I would think that threat would be pretty persuasive.”

  “It surely was.”

  “So they never skinny-dipped again?”

  I took the sample bag from her. “Are you kidding me? Of course they did. They just got better about being sneaky. I think that’s what he really wanted them to learn, anyway. There’s a solid life lesson in there somewhere.”

  “I have a feeling th
at your upbringing was much different from mine.”

  “You’d be hard-pressed to find another just like it,” I said, shrugging. “Let’s go see if the boys found anything else.”

  We spent another hour searching the scene before we gave up. The only thing we got out of it was aching backs and dehydration, and I think a mild sunburn for Katya. We piled into the car.

  On Alistair’s advice, we took the sample straight to Dr. Wesley. I’ve never seen someone so happy to get a mystery carcass. Her eyes lit up as she took the bag. She handed me a piece of paper and a pen and made me jot down all the info I had on the sample—where we got it, ambient temperature before Katya messed with it, whatever details we could think of. You never know what could prove to be useful, I guess.

  The doctor peered into the clear plastic, her fingers gently maneuvering the sample for better visibility.

  “It’s not fresh, but it was the best we could do,” I said, handing my notes to Lock to see if I’d left anything out. Ezra had already lost interest in the proceedings. He was gazing into a vending machine like it might contain the secrets of several universes. Katya stood close to me, anxious to hear the doctor’s opinion.

  “Obviously I’ll have to run some tests and examine it more closely, but with this kind of shell, it’s definitely some sort of gastropod, most likely a saltwater-dwelling one. Never seen one this big around here.” She squinted. “And for this size, I would have expected the shell to be denser. When you see the large snails that come out of places like Australia, the shell is much thicker.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t very old,” Katya said.

  “What does age have to do with it?” I asked. I can admit to my snail-based ignorance.

  “Baby snails have really thin, almost clear shells. They consume calcium and the shells grow and harden. They gain color. This snail has a hardened shell, but it’s not very thick, so maybe it hadn’t had much time to grow a better one.” When I stared at her, Katya said, “What? We had a snail infestation in my mom’s garden one year. I read up on them.”

  “So you’re saying this snail that could easily double for a flattened soccer ball is a teenager?” I shuddered. “I’d hate to see a grown-up.”

  “From what Sylvie told me, we can’t use any of the traditional markers to guess age. The snails might have an accelerated growth rate due to the magic involved.”

  Katya stilled suddenly, her hand grasping my shoulder, which was quickly and somewhat painfully cold. “Hey, rein it in there, Frosty.”

  She jerked her hand back. “Sorry! But I remembered where I’d seen the snail before. My dad found one when he went fishing. He brought it home. Thought he could add it to our saltwater tank. My mom threw a fit—she didn’t like him bringing home wild creatures and keeping them.” She made a face. “The peryton were bad enough, but at least they were never wild.”

  Totally illegal, but not wild. “What happened to the snail?” I asked. A connection. Finally. It felt good to make some sort of progress.

  Katya frowned. “I don’t know. It didn’t do too well. We put it in the tank, but it didn’t thrive. It died, so my dad put it in the compost.”

  “Did he handle it?” Dr. Wesley asked, her attention focused on Katya.

  She thought for a moment. “Yeah. He grabbed it and carried it out. I think in an old newspaper.”

  “Could he have gone anywhere near the pens from there?” I asked, rubbing warmth back into my shoulder.

  “Oh yeah.” She walked over to a nearby window and frosted the glass. “The house is here, the pens are here, and the compost is here.” She drew little corresponding boxes in the frost. “Dad would often check on the peryton on his way back. Some of them were quite affectionate. You know, before.” She smiled sadly at us.

  Dr. Wesley made a few notes on her pad. “If your dad handled the snail and came into contact with the mucus, then moved on to the peryton, it’s very likely that he could have spread the fungus. We may never be one hundred percent sure if that’s what happened.”

  “Someone needs to go check out your tank,” I said to Katya. “Maybe the snail left some spores or something.”

  Ezra, having finished with the vending machine, came back to us munching on a candy bar. “I have two questions for you. No, wait, make that three.” He held up one hand and counted off on his fingers. “One, didn’t Fitz mention giant snails in their old hunting ground? If so, that would be a closer collection point. Possible spores and a longer drive versus shorter drive and live snails? Do the math. Second, if all this is true, if the snail is the carrier, and it infected Katya’s herd of peryton, why wasn’t her family infected? This appears to spread fairly easily, but Katya is fine and she hasn’t mentioned her parents going bug-nuts before they died.”

  Katya shook her head, her eyes wide. “They were fine.” What little color she gained drained from her face. “My dad held it. I put my face up to it, but I didn’t want to touch it at the time because I’d been baking and I didn’t want to wash my hands.” She trembled as she turned to the doctor. “Am I going to get sick?”

  You would think, with the gravity of the situation and all, the doctor would have looked somber. Instead, she looked like her birthday had come early.

  “I’m starting to see why you work for us and not with humans,” I said.

  Dr. Wesley did her best to tamp down her excitement. “No, Katya, I don’t think you’re sick. This thing hits fast. Look how quickly Sid and Bianca started showing symptoms, yet you’re still healthy. Which means either you never contracted it, or you’re immune. Either way, I’d like to run some tests and take some samples from you.”

  “I don’t like needles,” Katya whispered.

  Lock took her hand. “We’ll all be there. You can hold Ava’s hand or mine. And I’m sure Ezra will volunteer to distract you. He excels at making a spectacle of himself. Okay?”

  Katya nodded, mutely, but her eyes were a little wild.

  “Wait,” I said. “Ezra, you mentioned three things. That was only two.”

  He tucked his empty candy wrapper into my pocket. “Yeah, does anyone have any change? I want a soda.”

  19

  COTERIE INSURANCE: IT COVERS THE STRANGEST THINGS

  “WELL, I CAN HONESTLY say this is a first.” Dr. Wesley stared at the small plastic vacutainer that held Katya’s blood. The sample was frozen, and the small alcove we were in was covered in a fine layer of frost. Fat flakes whirled down from the ceiling, and Katya’s breath came out in harsh white puffs. Tiny crystals had formed on her lashes.

  “I said I don’t like needles,” Katya said, her voice just this side of hysterical.

  “You might have mentioned the possibility of snow,” I said. I sat to one side of her, Lock on the other, each of us holding one of her hands. I’d have let go, but I think mine was frozen to hers. I sent a breath of warmth to my hands and Lock’s to keep us from getting frostbite. He gave me a grateful look.

  Ezra stopped juggling plastic syringes. “Apparently I need to step up my game, because this is clearly not working.”

  Dr. Wesley set down the tube and placed a Band-Aid on the cotton ball she’d been holding over the puncture site. The cotton ball made a crunching sound, the blood in it already having frozen. “I hate to tell you this, kiddo, but I’m going to have to do another blood draw. As impressive as this is, freezing the blood cells can damage them. And who knows what it will do to anything currently backstroking its way through your bloodstream.”

  Katya tensed. “You have to stick me again?”

  The doctor nodded. “And you have to turn off the snow machine, and keep it off. I need a regular sample.”

  Katya let out a shuddering breath. “I’m not sure I can do it.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Sure you can.” I tried to sound positive, but Katya had only lasted about three seconds after the poke before she went nuclear winter. And she’d been relaxed then. Now she was panicked and tense.

  Ezra yanked a chair in front
of Katya. “Of course we can do this. After all, I’m involved. Therefore, success will follow. It’s the natural way of things.” He took Katya’s hands from us, gently rubbing them in his own. He held her gaze, giving her a reassuring smile. Katya stared back, her focus entirely on Ezra. The snow stopped, and everything began to thaw. I would have tried heating the room up a bit, but with this much medical equipment, I was loath to throw more heat or sparks around. Lots of stuff in clinics goes boom when you do that. A small concentrated surge around our hands was one thing, but I was not comfortable going beyond that.

  Ezra leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands holding Katya’s, keeping her arms loose and relaxed, with the insides up so the doctor could reach her veins easily.

  “Have you ever heard the one about how the stars came to be?” He used his thumbs to squeeze pressure points in her hands, doing what he could to get her to relax.

  Katya shook her head again.

  “Well, as everyone knows, at first there was only darkness. Darkness is very boring. It lacks a certain appeal, entertainment-wise. So one day, the Great One decided to create the sun. He was very pleased with himself. He turned to his wife, weeping tears of joy, and said, ‘Look at this, my love. What a beautiful thing I have made!’

  “His wife, the Goddess, agreed that it was indeed lovely. Not to be outdone, she took his tears, stretching them into thin silver strands. She wound them into a tight ball and breathed gently upon them. The silver shone, reflecting the light of the sun back at the Great One. She had made the moon, and he had to admit it was just as skillfully done as his sun.

  “Not yet finished, the Goddess pulled at her necklace, a string of precious pearls, a gift from her husband. One by one they spun off, circling around the sun. With that sacrifice, she made the planets. The two of them began to enjoy their game. When they tired of planets, they made mountains, trees, rivers, everything down to the smallest squirrel. And they were pleased. But soon, one type of creature, the one called man, began complaining. At night these beings were cold. The darkness scared them. And in the darkness they fell too easily to the stronger creatures. The gods had created humankind last, you see, and they’d run out of ideas by then. So men’s claws were weak, their teeth almost useless, and they didn’t have enough fur to keep warm. But the gods had nothing left to give. So they ignored mankind’s pleas.