Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate, page 11
“Your friends are my friends!” Wrapping an arm around Akira’s shoulders, Rafter cheesed for a selfie. After, he presented his fist. “You know this one?”
They bumped fists.
But when Rafter drew his hand back, he wiggled his fingers and whispered, “Yeaaah!”
Akira offered a re-do, but his new friend shook a finger. “Next time. And I’m sorry to keep you.” Cocking his thumb over his forefinger, Rafter pointed at Sinder, who waved. “He’s your buddy?”
“My friend, yes.”
“Good guy. I met him earlier.” Stepping back, Rafter added, “Come see me anytime, Akira. I mean it. For anything.”
“I will. Thank you, Rafter.”
When Akira caught up to Sinder, the dragon was reaching for his phone.
“How late are we?” Checking the display, he grimaced. “Okay. Work with me on this. We’re blaming the fog.”
“You can’t tell time by the sun if you can’t see it?”
“Exactly.” Sinder lifted his chin toward the man he’d been talking to. “At this point, what’s ten more minutes? Akira, meet Buzz.”
Though the introductions were brief—by clan standards—Buzz knew how to posture. Either he was an enclave-bred reaver or an Amaranthine who wasn’t living openly. Akira leaned toward the latter. “Where is Red Rooster Farm?” he asked.
“An easy drive up the coast.” Buzz was soft-spoken, and his gaze had a dreamy quality. “We’re part of a big co-op. Orchards. Vineyards. And all this market fare.”
Akira glanced around. Fresh produce was being displayed alongside cartons of eggs, homemade jellies, and jars of honey. “Maybe we can visit?”
Buzz smiled. “You’d be welcome.”
“Permission, though?” Sinder shook his head. “We can ask. That never hurts. I’ll get back to you on it, Buzz. Now, we really need to catch the next trolly.”
Hooking Akira’s arm, Sinder set off at a brisk pace.
“Is Red Rooster Farm an enclave?” Akira asked in an undertone.
“It is, but it’s undisclosed.”
“Do they know about Zuzu?”
“Buzz certainly does. Buuut, it’s best to assume the rest are only there to sell heirloom tomatoes and sun-ripened guacamole fixings.” Pointing to a TROLLY sign at the end of the block, Sinder urged, “Pay attention to the route. You’ll have to return on your own.”
“I can handle it.”
“Oh, I know.” Sinder spared him a sympathetic look. “But I’m under orders. And all of them have threats attached. So feel free to tune me out, but I want to be able to report back with a clear conscience. Yes, I showed him the way. Yes, I explained about currency. Yes, his manners are excellent. Yes, he’s eating his vegetables.”
Akira snorted his way into laughter.
Sinder grinned and rolled his eyes. “I might even earn extra points if we hold hands while crossing the street.”
Without hesitation, Akira offered his hand.
“You’re really a good sport.”
“They worry about me because they care. How can I complain?”
“I’d complain.”
Akira gave his hand a squeeze. “Wouldn’t that just worry them more?”
With a resigned shrug, Sinder admitted, “You’re totally right. It would.”
The trolly let them off on the same block as the Amory Fine Arts Center.
“Think you can handle that?” Sinder asked innocently.
Akira blandly pointed out, “It’s a straight line.”
“You were paying attention!” With exaggerated patience, the dragon asked, “Did you notice the name of this street?”
“Mainsail.”
“And the name of the street where we’re staying?”
“Jacaranda Court.”
Raising both hands, Sinder said, “And don’t hate me, but … how’s your battery life?”
Akira checked. “Ninety-three percent. Is that it?”
“With that, we’re both in the clear. And there’s our way in.”
Colt lifted a hand in greeting, and they jogged to meet up.
“You’re late.”
“Would you believe fog?” Sinder mumbled. “So, where does he want me?”
“There’s a table ready,” said Colt.
Sinder grimaced. “Did Juuyu have to do it?”
“I took care of it for you.”
He fluted softly. “Thanks for covering my ass.”
Colt rested his hand atop Sinder’s head for a moment, then moved on. “Once you’re settled, I’ll go back, let Antigone feed me, and escort Portia to the conference room where the Lockets are set up. Do you happen to know if she requires any special equipment?”
While Sinder answered, Akira drifted apart. It wasn’t that they seemed to be discussing top secret stuff. He just wanted to look around a little. The museum lobby was huge and high, and it echoed with the voices of people wearing different uniforms.
Two restaurants anchored either side. But most of the noise was coming from the direction of an information desk, where a group of children milled together. Akira ambled closer, surprised by how much he missed the sound of kids. He’d have to send a bunch of pictures today for the crossers back home.
This looked like a school group.
He wished they could take Stately House’s crossers out like this. Maybe someday it would be safe to do so. But Argent was really good at indulging the many children who wore his crest. Over the summer, they’d laid tracks for a private railroad, and plans were in the works for a small theater that would double as a lecture hall.
All of the sudden, Akira realized that one of the adults escorting the children wore the traditional capelet of a snake clan. This school must be part of Sensei’s integration program.
Akira formed his hands into one of the more subtle greetings. The kind that allowed you to quietly declare yourself as a Betweener.
She noticed the courtesy and returned it, adding a blessing.
He probably had a silly grin on his face.
Now that he was closer, he could see what had the children so excited. This was also something familiar, because Stately House was home to several large felines. A huge lynx sprawled in front of the information desk, and a handwritten sign with bold lettering announced:
My name is Tuft.
I am Kith.
Yes, you may touch.
Please, be gentle.
Akira repeated his greeting for Tuft’s benefit, and the big cat’s ears angled his way.
Once the teachers and tour guide led the school group away, Akira could see that other signs had been taped to the front of the information desk. Presumably, they said the same thing, but in Spanish, French, Korean, and … a language he didn’t recognize.
Stepping up to the desk, Akira asked, “Do you know this language?”
The woman came around and clapped her hands together. “This is Hawaiian! One of the workers at Brew & Bubble is originally from there. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“I think so, too.”
“All of these were contributed by members of the staff. May I ask where you’re from?”
“Japan.”
“Will you add to our collection?”
“Sure! I would be pleased.”
“You should also sign our guest book,” she urged as she rummaged through things on the desk.
Akira scanned the open page of a fat ledger, making a note of the different places people called home. Suuzu would have known which states the two-letter abbreviations represented, but after a few pages, Akira saw enough variety to tell that visitors came from all over America.
International guests stood out.
A recent message was in Japanese. He knew a little Russian, so he could make out parts of messages in blocky Cyrillic. One visitor left their message in Greek. To his surprise, there were even some famous names. Cyril Sunfletch. Kimiko Starmark. Tenna Silverprong.
The museum worker held up a fresh sheet of paper and a thick marker. “Will these work for you?”
“Just right,” he promised. And since there wasn’t much room on the plant-strewn counter, he knelt. His calligraphy wasn’t nearly as polished as his sister’s or Isla’s, but the characters would be legible.
While he worked, a familiar clack sounded on the stone floor. Even without looking up, Akira knew the sound of geta. All of the crane clansmen at Stately House favored the traditional wooden sandals. It was a safe sound. Homey.
Finishing his sign, Akira sat back on his heels and smiled up at the man who was studying him curiously. He wore a kind of linen short coat that was commonplace in Japan, with full sleeves that tapered to points. His was black with a scattering of tiny red flowers. Perhaps quince?
Akira angled his sign for the man to see. His features had a vaguely Asian cast. Perhaps mixed heritage? But Akira had the strongest impression that he’d be able to read the Japanese characters.
The man did scan the paper. Then he winked and walked on
TWENTY
Lunch Date
A couple hours passed before Akira wandered back into the lobby and scanned the tables.
“Look here,” Sinder softly commanded.
Akira was essentially immune to a dragon’s words, but he could still feel their pull. Which gave him a bearing. He’d actually walked right past Sinder’s table. The chunk of blue crystal at its center was probably anchoring some minor illusion, making it difficult for the average citizen to notice both the table and its occupant.
“Hungry yet?” asked Sinder, whose fingers were idling over his laptop keyboard.
“Sure. If I’m not interrupting.”
“We’re good. I’ve already interviewed everyone on the morning shift. And they’ve pointed out which of the current customers are regulars … and therefore above suspicion.”
“How did they react to being interviewed by a dragon?” Sinder hadn’t done anything to disguise the fact that he was Amaranthine.
“Oh, they don’t remember.” Sinder slouched a little in is chair. “Not me. Not my questions.”
“Very stealthy. And kind of cool.” Akira might not be a starry-eyed teen anymore, but he still thought Juuyu and Sinder made a convincing pair of international spies. “What are you looking for?”
“Anomalies. People who don’t fit into this place’s version of normal.” Sinder lightly asked, “See anything strange while you were roaming?”
“Nope.”
“Enjoy your tour of the galleries?”
“Guess so.”
Going through the museum would have been more fun with Suuzu. His best friend would have read every plaque and paused to discuss the finer points of each piece. Always asking for Akira’s own impressions. Because Suuzu liked to learn more about Akira. Stuff Akira didn’t even know about himself. Sure, touring the galleries had been very nice, but it could have been so much nicer.
Shaking his head to redirect his thoughts, Akira said, “I didn’t see Juuyu.”
“He’s probably lurking.” Sinder’s brows drew together. “How do you feel?”
“Fine?”
“Humor me. How would you describe your current mood?”
“Nice?”
Sinder slouched further in his chair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s damned weird.” Sinder closed his laptop. “When I’m on a job, I’m always keyed up. Focused. Quick to make connections. Hang on. I’m going to check something. Sit tight.”
Akira answered texts while the dragon made a circuit of the lobby. Sinder ordered something from Masterpiece Sandwiches, chatting with the workers while he waited. After that, he moved on to Brew & Bubble. Having added two brightly colored drinks to his collection, he strolled back.
Sliding the heaped tray onto the table, Sinder indicated one of the plates. “Behold, the Harmonious!”
Layers of toasted bread and cold cuts had been stacked high and held together with long, copper-fringed skewers. “What?”
“They call this sandwich a Harmonious. It’s right there on the menu board.” Sinder set two more sandwiches on the table between them. “According to the owner, they used to have artist names—the Picasso, the Monet, the Raphael—but they’re showing their support for peace by honoring its founders.”
“With sandwiches?” Akira pulled out his camera. “I wonder if they know?”
“They have framed thank you notes on the wall beside the pick-up counter. Even Argent is represented, although his note is in Jacques’ handwriting. This here is the Double Dare.”
Akira gently lifted the bun from what appeared to be a hamburger topped with thinly sliced pastrami.
“And here we have the American Crosser, which appears to be an homage to Ash Sunfletch.”
The portions were beyond generous. “I can’t possibly eat this much food.”
“Figured as much.” Sinder proffered a plastic knife. “Carve a slice of whatever interests you. I’ll have no trouble finishing the rest.”
Akira snapped pictures of each sandwich before claiming a reasonable portion. Meanwhile Sinder snagged the yellow boba smoothie, leaving an orange one for Akira. “Pineapple for me. Peach for you.”
“Thanks. So, did you learn anything?”
Sinder blinked. “About what?”
“Weren’t you asking questions or something?”
Sitting up straight, Sinder pulled out his phone and swore softly under his breath while he tapped furiously at his screen.
“Is something wrong?”
“I. Forgot.”
“How do you mean?” Akira glanced warily about. “Is it some kind of … fox dream?”
“Something is influencing people. And I’m affected. Colt probably didn’t notice because he’s always so chill. But there’s a difference between relaxed and relaxing your guard.”
Taking a bite of the first sandwich, Akira nodded. But there wasn’t much he could contribute. He was susceptible to everything except dragon sway. And that wasn’t the problem here.
“What’s nice?” Sinder demanded.
“Hmm?” Akira looked down at his wedge of burger. “This pastrami is nice.”
Sinder waved a hand. “Think about why you said what you did. Because it’s what everyone else is saying, too. What makes you think today’s nice? Or that this place is nice? Or that you feel nice?”
That was easy. “Home is nice.”
“You mean Stately House?”
“No. Japan. I like things from Japan.”
“Yeah?” Sinder leaned forward. “Anything else?”
It took longer for the thought to form, but Akira finally said, “Red flowers are nice.”
“Where did you see them? In the courtyard? In the gallery?”
The answer was on the tip of his tongue. “I’m not sure.”
Sinder peered around, sucking moodily at his drink. “After lunch, we’ll retrace your steps, see if we can’t figure out what brought red flowers to mind. It could be important.”
“Sure. We can do that.”
But after lunch, Akira washed up, thanked Sinder, and left.
While strolling toward the corner where he’d board the trolly, Akira sent a series of texts. He showed Quen a picture of his father’s namesake sandwich. A selfie with Sinder for Tenma, who’d apparently become friends with the dragon over the summer. He also sent it to Jacques, mostly to see if his message would show up as read.
It did. So Akira sent a bunch more snapshots. Jacques texted back as soon as there was a lull.
Since when did this become a culinary tour?
Food is culture
Sandwiches, though? Is that the best you can do?
The shop is in the museum
where Juuyu is working
Masterpiece Sandwiches
How droll
Akira was feeling better the longer the exchange went on.
Is Sis there?
Saints forbid
Twould be awkward
This is the grooming hour
Jacques sent through a selfie that might have been indecent, if not for the abundance of foam. Bubble baths weren’t very Japanese, but neither was Uncle Jackie. Deece and Gilen smiled shyly at the camera. And a beat later, Akira realized that none of them were holding the phone.
Who snapped that pic?
Me!
A selfie came through, too close and cross-eyed, of Nonny. In the next one, the goat crosser was so busy flexing, he hadn’t yet noticed that Deece was about to pounce.
Jacques must have reclaimed his phone, because the next selfie showed the teen in a casual headlock while Gilen huddled next to Jacques. If the tiger crosser’s flattened ears were anything to go by, Nonny was swearing up a storm.
I miss you guys
All is as it should be
But are you having fun?
Some
Today was nice
His gaze lingered on that word. Wait a minute. Wasn’t he supposed to be looking around the museum with Sinder? Why hadn’t the dragon reminded him?
How had they forgotten?
Akira stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, then stepped to the side. Switching to Sinder’s messages, he sent a quick text.
Sorry I left
Miss me already?
We were going to look
for red flowers in the gallery
Remember?
Sinder sent through a string of furious emotes. Then Akira’s phone rang.
“Do me a favor, since I might forget.” His words were thick with urgency. And sway. “Tell Argent it’s no good.”
There was a long pause, so Akira asked, “Is that all?”
“No. We’re under the influence of something insidious. And it’s so danged pleasant, we forget about looking for the source.”
