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30: A HARD DAY’S NIGHT


It had been a long, hard day for Oilcan, starting with four talking mice and ending with a fight with his cousin’s aunts. He felt battered and bruised in body and soul and chilled to the bone. He called Guy Kryskill as he wearily made his way to the gym’s locker room, which was the only place in Sacred Heart with working showers.

“Everything’s fine here!” Guy half-shouted over music playing in the background. He moved to someplace quieter to give a detailed report. “I started a fire in the fireplace, and broke out the camping equipment. We had chili out of cans, smores, and instant hot chocolate, which all went over big. Once the power came back on, I showed them the pinball machines and the jukebox. They’re having a blast. Oh, and I called John Montana and let him know that Blue is safe with us.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Oilcan said as he realized that he probably should let Tommy know that Spot was safe too. It sounded like Guy was pulling out all the stops to keep the other kids distracted. “How’s Rebecca?”

“The spells that Thorne Scratch put on her worked amazing,” Guy said. “She felt well enough to have some of the chili and then fell asleep on the couch.”

“You’re doing a great job, Guy,” Oilcan said, painfully aware that it had been pure random chance that included Guy on the shopping trip. If Andy had had his pickup at Sacred Heart, Guy wouldn’t have gotten involved. “Thank you for taking care of my kids.”

“No problem,” Guy said. “We have to stand together in fights like this.”

“Things seemed to have calmed down here,” Oilcan said. “If things are still good tomorrow morning, you can bring the kids home.”

“That’s good news,” Guy said.

Oilcan called Tommy to let him know about Spot. He woke the leader of the half-oni up for the second time in one day.

“I tracked down Jewel Tear,” Tommy said sleepily. “She’s pretty freaked out about not being able to cast magic. She’s here at our place. She’s going to be staying here, helping out with the little ones.”

“Oh?” Oilcan hadn’t heard that Jewel Tear had needed to be tracked down. He fumbled for the light switch for the locker room. “Okay. Thanks for taking care of her. Where is your new place?”

“William Freaking Penn Hotel,” Tommy said. “Or I should say the new Chang enclave for humans, elves, and half-oni.”

Oilcan laughed out of surprise. The William Penn Hotel? It made sense considering how many people Tommy had in his household. “Okay, I’ll get Spot back home sometime tomorrow.”

Oilcan stripped in the locker room, discovering mysterious bruises that he’d gathered during the day. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded to the gym’s showers. He set the temperature to steaming hot, leaned wearily against the tile wall, and let the water pour down over him.

He hated the entire day. The images and sounds and feelings that he was never going to get out of his head: Rebecca lying wounded on the sidewalk with a flood of oni coming toward them. Ramming the sportscar with the flatbed. The wail of the horn after he reduced the car to crumpled metal. Seeing the rocket flying at Jane Kryskill and not being sure if he could save her. The knowledge that if he failed to kill the horror on the bridge it would plow through his friends. Finding the twins so small and terrified. The bloody tengu boy who could have been no more than thirteen or fourteen trying to protect them. Law lying unconscious and bleeding out. Danni falling to the ground, headless. He wished he could wash away the memories, the stark fear, and the hot rage. Especially the rage. He never wanted to grow into his father. His mother used to say that his father had once been a kind man but he allowed anger to become his default response to everything. The more his father let himself be angry, the greater his anger grew until he became a raging tornado of destruction. Until he killed everything that he cared about—his wife, the love of his child, his freedom.

Oilcan felt that monster rage while fighting. He hated it.

“That anger isn’t a bad thing,” Tommy told Oilcan after rescuing him. “If I were you, I’d hold it tight and ride it, because you need it to be hard enough to do what needs to be done.”

What a razor’s edge to walk.

“Domou?” Thorne Scratch called from the locker room door.

“In here!” Oilcan called back.

“I brought you clean clothes,” she said as she came through the locker room.

She was naked when she joined him. He’d learned over the last few weeks that elves liked to share bathing. Being skin to skin was important to them. He’d started a true bathtub on the third floor but had been kidnapped before he could get it finished. The large shower room gave them space to be together, simply hugging each other, as the warmth washed over them.

He was glad that, while black and blue in numerous spots, she had no open wounds. She’d been so beautiful and fierce. She shouldn’t have been fighting alone.

“When we last spoke about building my first Hand, I was reluctant,” Oilcan said. “Today taught me much about grim reality. We needed Moon Dog. We were lucky he came with us.”

Thorne Scratch nodded as she towel-dried her battered body. “Yes, the gods were kind to put him in our path.”

“Do you think I should offer him Second?”

She lit up so much there was no mistaking her joy at the idea. But then, she caught herself and closed it down, hiding behind her warrior’s mask. “That is between you and him.”

Just a day or so ago—what seemed like a different life—Tinker had talked to him about her choosing which warriors she picked from Windwolf’s four Hands. She had realized that Oilcan would need at least four more warriors. It was important, she said, that the members of a Hand were suited to each other for them to work as a unit.

“Does he…fit…with you?” Oilcan said.

She considered and then nodded. “Yes, I think we do. Nor is that surprising. Tempered Steel would only take one type of warrior as student: one who would be willing to walk his path, one who leads not to glory but to the adherence of a higher duty.”

She ducked her head. “It is why I was considered dangerous to take into a Hand. With my cursed name and who I was trained by, I was the type that would cut down a domana who had strayed from the righteous.”

She had beheaded Earth Son to keep him from killing the tengu who had been an important ally in the fight against Malice.

Oilcan felt he needed to make that right but didn’t know how. He reached out and took her hand. She squeezed it tight, raised it up to kiss the back of his hand, and then pressed her cheek to his palm.

“In many ways, Moon Dog is like me,” she said softly. “He will not shy away from a moral imperative. If he warns you, take heed.”

“I will.”

She whispered into his palm, “Are you sure this is what you want and not you attempting to make me happy?”

“Today, over and over again, I was glad that we had him with us,” Oilcan said. “It made me realize the importance of having a full Hand. It seems stupid to ignore the perfect candidate right before me.”

“The perfect ones are the dangerous ones,” Thorne Scratch whispered.

She kissed his palm and let his hand drop. “That said, I am not totally sure he will say yes. I do not understand why he is in Pittsburgh. If he had been here merely to fight the oni, he would have gone with the warrior monks who accompanied the Harbingers. It almost seems that pure curiosity drives him and he was not aware that you have chosen to be Wind Clan. He still might not be aware.”

“So make sure he’s aware of that up front?”

She gave a small breathless laugh. “Yes, but I cannot advise you much more than that. He is a mystery to me.”

* * *

They went in search of Moon Dog, starting in the kitchen as the rest of the building was dark and silent. The big industrial kitchen smelled of fresh-baked bread and was crowded with people. There were Moser and his household, half of Team Tinker, and a smattering of mutual friends of both groups. They went quiet as Oilcan came in, closely followed by Thorne Scratch.

“Something smells good,” Oilcan said to break the silence.

“We’ve got meat!” Moser cried, throwing wide his arms. “You’re eating with us!”

Oddly, it was the same thing that Moser said last time he saw him. Oilcan’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast except the one half-abandoned ice cream cone.

“Sounds good,” Oilcan said.

Everyone started to talk again as bowls of stew and slices of bread, still warm from the oven, were passed around. They spilled out into the dining room so that they could sit at tables like civilized people.

Moser settled across from Oilcan, flanked by Briar Rose, Geoffrey Kryskill, Snapdragon, Tenfold Clubs, and Gin Blossom. Jane Kryskill seemed to be commanding the militia, so Geoffrey was probably an officer in it too. The last three were all laedin caste, raised to be the foot soldiers of the elves. It seemed as if dinner was going to be a war council.

“Alton sold us a massive wild boar two days ago,” Moser said, dunking his bread into the stew. “We just got done butchering it down and wet-aging it when the evacuation call came in, so we brought it with us, along with everything in baskets in our root cellar.”

That would explain the thick-cut carrots and potatoes in the rich stew. Moser had an impressive block-long, walled-in garden in his backyard. The elf enclaves had similar setups. Oilcan was having trouble finding food. He was counting on Forge to bring in fresh produce during the winter. Fresh meat was going to require a different solution.

“Could you let Alton know that I’m interested in buying whatever he can provide?” Oilcan said. “I have cash to burn.”

“Sure thing,” Geoffrey said. “He can let the other foragers know that you’re buying too.”

Briar Rose updated Oilcan on who-all had taken refuge at Sacred Heart while he was out fighting. Briar had had been acting as Oilcan’s majordomo in his absence. It made sense since Oilcan had left with all the kids and Forge had sent most of his stonemasons to the Easternlands to gather supplies. Briar had made sure that everyone who had been allowed into the building was properly vetted, bandaged if needed, fed, and given a place to sleep.

The twins were on the third floor in elvish camping cots. (Oilcan wasn’t sure how she wrangled cots but it seemed to involve shaming the other enclaves into not letting Tinker’s little sisters sleep on the floor.) Moser’s people and a select group of their trusted friends were in the gym in sleeping bags. Crow Boy had fallen asleep in the kitchen and been moved as gently as possible to the gym. Clothes had been provided for Bare Snow. She and Moon Dog had been settled on the second floor as proper “guests” of the enclave.

It meant that Moon Dog was probably already asleep. The conversation about offering him a place in Oilcan’s Hand would have to wait until morning.

“We have set up a watch on the gates, so you do not need to worry about that,” Tenfold Clubs said. “Get some sleep. You look like you are about to fall over. You need to attract some laedin, though, for the future.”

Oilcan nodded. He couldn’t expect the kids to protect the building.

“It should not be too hard to get some laedin,” Snapdragon said. “There are always doubles reaching their majority and wanting something different from what they grew up with.”

“They need to be able to fight,” Moser said.

“Oh, not all want to drum like me!” Snapdragon drummed two spoons on the table. “Those born in cities like Court would like to hunt and forage but that’s not possible in those areas. The land is tightly controlled by the domana other than their own.”

Gin Blossom nodded. “And those who grew up in the countryside—like I did—usually just want to socialize with more than the handful of same old people that they grew up with. They head to the city while they are in their doubles, expecting to find a household there.”

“Most households are not looking for more warriors,” Snapdragon said. “In the city, out in the countryside, no one needs more laedin. Many of those who leave their birth household—either by choice or by need—find themselves homeless.”

“We sekasha have the temples to take shelter in,” Thorne Scratch said, shaking her head. “The laedin have nothing. It is a growing problem.”

Laedin tend to be more prolific,” Tenfold Clubs said. “There tends to be more of us than any other caste. Since we are warriors, we are considered expendable. When a household becomes overcrowded, the laedin children are the first ones driven out. My mother told me often as I grew up that she dearly loved me but that I would need to leave when I reached my majority.”

“Most of the laedin here in Pittsburgh are from overcrowded households back in the Easternlands,” Snapdragon said. “Windwolf put out a general call when he first founded Aum Renau that he and his Beholden needed laedin. That brought a flood of us to this side of the ocean. The first wave was picked up by Windwolf and his holdings on the East Coast, but not the later waves.”

Tenfold shook his head. “That call was a century ago. We knew that chances were slim that we were still needed but we came anyhow.”

“A few got lucky and got picked up by the enclaves on the Rim,” Gin Blossom said. “Some headed back to the Easternlands on the next train. Some of us…well…drifted, kind of aimless, until we fell into something.”

Tenfold shrugged. “It so happens that most of us who stayed were the ones who did not like fighting that much. We were looking for something else to do with our lives. Briar Rose has been teaching me gardening. Who would have thought?”

Snapdragon discovered that the stainless steel teapot in front of him could be used as a ride cymbal and wove it into his spoon drumming. “I talked with Jewel Tear’s laedin before they fled back to the Easternlands. She had gathered the overspill from her parents’ rural holdings. All big cities—Winter Court, Summer Court, Stone Haven—made her laedin nervous. Pittsburgh scared the living shit out of them.”

“It is a lot to take in,” Gin Blossom said. “I know it rattled me a lot when I first got here.”

“With the war breaking out, more laedin might show up, hoping to be a replacement for someone killed in battle,” Snapdragon said. “They will all be Wind Clan and will fit in with your neighbors.”

“You could ask Forge to do a call out for Stone Clan,” Gin Blossom said. “They will come in bigger numbers as they have not had anywhere to go before now. They might be desperate enough to change clans.”

Briar Rose made a noise of disgust but didn’t comment.

“Your best bet is to talk to Windwolf,” Tenfold said. “He could make another general recruitment call. He will probably need to anyway, what with the battle in the forest, his holdings in the east might have taken a serious hit, and the laedin killed here in Pittsburgh the last few weeks.”

“There is the royal marines,” Thorne Scratch said, which earned her the hard stares from across the table. “The Fire Clan has the only true standing army: it created a system to take their overflow of laedin and funnel them into royal barracks instead of households. Over the last thousand years, they have increased to a massive number. Tempered Steel expects the system to soon fail as it gives the marines no chance to opt out. They are next to slaves as they are now, barely educated past basic reading and writing.”

“True,” Snapdragon whispered, “but not a popular opinion to hold. It is not like the old days. They are well fed, never tortured or executed or forced to procreate, and are led by others of their kind.”

“Does not make it right,” Thorne Scratch said quietly. “But even Tempered Steel is not sure how to resolve the issue.”

“There are thousands of marines in Pittsburgh right now,” Moser said. “You could put out a call tomorrow.”

All the laedin at their table shook their heads. “You need to be able to screen them. A laedin that is quick to anger or a bully in nature can be deadly—especially around those of other clans.”

“I’ll talk to Windwolf,” Oilcan said since he didn’t want to decide now. He was exhausted and raw from the day.

Briar Rose kicked Moser under the table.

Moser winced. “We were wondering: Considering how this year has been going…life would be easier if we were an official household.”

“You’re not official?” Oilcan asked. Moser and Briar Rose announced a few years ago that they considered their union a common law marriage. There was a party and everything. Elves didn’t normally do marriages but Moser wanted to be sure that, in terms of human law, Briar Rose wouldn’t be cheated out of anything if he died.

“We’re not Beholden to a domana,” Briar Rose said.

“Oh, oh, I see.” Oilcan understood now where the conversation was going. He’d given Tommy—whom he barely knew but owed him his life—the protection of being a Beholden. Of course his close friends whom he’d known half his life would want the same. “Sure, we can work that out. I’m not sure what it requires other than us just saying ‘yes’ to it. So…Yes?”

“Yes!” Moser cried, throwing his hands up in the air.

Everyone in the room cheered. The elves were clearly ecstatic. The humans were happy because their friends were happy. It was not what Oilcan expected when he got up that morning, but considering all the day had held—the war, the fighting, the twins, the babies—it was a good thing.



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