“When we come of age,” Anzan went on, speaking over them both, “the males of my species go into heat. We give off a distinctive pheromone. Because ours is a matrilineal culture, a palp is never more than the mate of his reina. Queen of the home, if not of the clan. If a reina were to decide she liked the look and smell of the younger, more virile male, she could leave and the palp would be left with nothing. Much blood would be spilled in the resultant fight for that bride’s bed, encouraged by her, for the strongest palp would have her. None of the elders wanted that. They had their own brides to worry over. It wouldn’t do to have their reinas catch a whiff of a younger male. So if you were unmated, you were cast out before your first heat. That is the way of it. The family could do away with their shame and the elders would sleep easier, in one fell swoop.”
Anzan shrugged, draining his coffee cup before turning away to pour another.You need to start buying him decaf.
“I regret my story is not as full of fire and drama as yours, cat man. I was cast out of my village, forced away from my family, to make my own way in the world. A world in which the majority is predisposed to fear my kind. I was able to support myself here and there because of my parents’ efforts, although not having a stable dwelling made long-term employment impossible. I made my best effort to stay away from large cities and towns, unless I needed to replenish my belongings and supplies. The world is full of small, secluded communes and forgotten villages on mountainsides and in forest valleys, where outcasts band together. It was in one such place where I first heard the name Cambric Creek.”
Ladybug looked up, surprised. He had never shared that detail with her before.
“It was the rainy season, and I had taken refuge in a mountainside temple. There was an oni there, full of stories, who did not mind letting me sleep in the temple. I stayed hidden during the day and slept while tourists and visitors came, and he entertained at night, with tea and fresh fish. It was the closest thing I’d had to a true home since leaving the shores of Maranok. I would have stayed, if there had been a way to support myself.”
“Let me guess,” Ladybug interrupted with a grin. “No Wifi?”
“No internet at all. No television, no phone reception. No espresso machine. There were no modern conveniences to speak of. It was not completely dissimilar to the state of your home before I came, little bug.”
She was going to regret introducing them, she realized as both men laughed.No. Not ‘going to.’ You already regret it.
“He loved to tell me about the people he met from all over the world, who would come to visit his temple. One was a werewolf who stayed in the same rooms and slept on the same floor as I did. He had told the oni he was from a town where all species lived together harmoniously.”
Anzan grinned, caught in his memory, his fangs sharp and gleaming, and she could not help matching his smile. This was likely the most he’d spoken to anyone but her since leaving that temple, she realized.He needs to get out of this house. Talk to someone other than you. Make a friend who’s not Holt.
“The oni was a storyteller. Like you, cat man. He painted the werewolf’s tale as a utopia. It sounded too good to be true, of course, but I was very tired of moving constantly. Tired and destitute. Despite the hospitality, I could not stay. My work is dependent on the modern world, and so I had to bid his mountain goodbye. I decided I would make the journey here, to see if this utopia existed truly. It was . . . a long journey. I spent many months with too little to eat and nothing over my head but your moon, my Ladybug. But then there was an advertisement for an attic bedroom for rent, and the witch who showed it to me did her best to be kind and unafraid, even if she does not like talking to people.”
“Where did you even get the newspaper?” Ladybug wondered, thinking of her ad. Anzan merely shrugged.
“Stole it from the fox woman’s mailbox. And I realized the oni was correct. It was a utopia, here in this house. So you are right, cat man. Thereisa goddess here. And though they have taken me very far from my home, I cannot say I am unhappy with where your Fates have placed me.”
“There’s a proposed ordinance.” She blurted the words, face heating as she did so, not realizing until that moment she was desperate to lay everything bare. “The-the mayor’s office . . . they’re trying to pass an ordinance that would force him to leave. I-I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Anzan was silent as he poured a second cup of coffee, crossing to Holt silently. It was an offering of peace, clearly, and her breath caught, waiting for the familiar’s hand to reach out and accept it. When he did, giving Anzan a small smile and a nod of thanks, Ladybug practically deflated.
“I’ve heard,” Holt said after a moment. “I heard folks talking about it at the coffee shop.” He turned to Anzan. “If it makes you feel any better, the majority seem against it. The owner of the shop and his sister didn’t hold back the day I was there. He and an orc were arguing with an older troll . . . if it were to go to a vote, I’m not sure it would pass, so there’s that. What did Jack say?”
Ladybug flushed. She hated that she’d kept this from him.No more secrets. You have to be a team.“He said not to worry about it. That he’s not going to let it come to that. And if it does, I’m going to sue the city. We have a meeting scheduled with his son, the lawyer.”
Holt shrugged with a grim smile. “Then that’s that. If Jack says it’s so, then that’s the end. I’ve known him much longer than you, Elizabeth,” he went on, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “That man gets what he wants, by hook or by crook. Like I said before, don’t forget you have that card to play. But,” he sipped his coffee, looking back to Anzan, “if you’re asking for my opinion? Stop hiding. Hiding only makes it look as if you have something to hide in the first place. People are curious. They don’t understand what they don’t know. Show them. Change the narrative. Show them the boring basket-weaving and they’ll decide the idea of an ordinance is silly all on their own. And in the meantime,” he went on, turning back to her.
“In the meantime, I’m going to sell circles around every other witch in town,” she answered resolutely.
Holt met her eye with a malicious grin. “Good girl. It’s important to remind people who you are and what you can do, perhaps now more than ever.”
“Howdidyou find out about the ordinance?“ she asked Anzan, unsatisfied with his shifty-eyed response upstairs.
He shrugged, making a show of running water for the tea kettle, knowing she preferred it to coffee. “The tongues-of-grass woman,” he began in far-too-casual a tone. “She often receives correspondence from City Hall. It was mentioned in one such letter.”
Holt choked on his coffee as Ladybug gaped, realizing the implication of Anzan’s casual disclosure. “Are you . . . are youreadingthe neighbors’ mail?! Anzan!”
He swung around defensively. “My Ladybug, your neighbors with their poisonous tongues and cruel words are nothing but a bunch of noxious hypocrites, I’m sad to report. The troll woman next door? Puts her extra trash in the receptacles of the goblin family across the street, because she doesn’t want the expense of another bin. Once, she put her food waste in theirrecycling. The fox woman’s husband is fornicating with a selkie from the university. He has brought her to the home many times when his family is away. I have heard them arguing over it at night. The werebear on the far end of the street receives monthly correspondence from the Bridgeton courts, reminding him of his delinquency in support for his child. They all cast their judgment on you without knowing, but I knowthemwell, and they’re all terrible.”
“Are you readingeveryone’s mail?!”
“Oh, Ilovehim.“ Holt crowed from his perch on the counter, ignoring her venomous look. “He’s officially my favorite.”
She huffed, looking between them feeling scandalized and wondering why she bothered. She already knew what they were both like. “You areboththe worst! Terrible!”
For a long, weightless moment, the kitchen was silent, save for the whistle of the tea kettle. Anzan opened the cupboard, retrieving a dried tangerine, stuffed with black tea. He had made the tea cakes with her the previous winter, and brewed her a perfect cup now, adding a paper-thin slice of his own fruit to float on the top of the steaming amber liquid before serving her with a small bow. Ladybug caught one of his hands leaning forward to press a kiss to his palm.
“Well, cat man? Have I passed your test?”
Holt slid from the counter, still laughing, uncowed by the way Anzan towered over him. “That depends, I think. Do you love her?”
