The Tiger's Tale Read online

  “And?” Adam checked the sandwiches and turned them to brown on the other side.

  “We have teleporting rabbit/human chimera—not Pantherians.”

  They sat to wait while the meal cooked.

  “Her brain?” Adam asked.

  “They injected the embryos with human neurons.”

  Adam’s hands went to fists and his stomach churned. The implications were unconscionable. “Tell me you destroyed that lab.”

  “To what purpose? They would build another, somewhere else perhaps, make it more difficult to penetrate. We can’t stop this, Adam. Some lessons are only learned by making bad choices. They will reap and learn.”

  And that was it? They were supposed to sit back and let scientists play mix and match with species as if they were snapping together Legos?

  “So,” his father said, as if they had exhausted the subject of cross species research. “Why do I think this is about a woman instead of a rabbit? Or would a white tiger be more accurate?”

  “Not a woman. A female Pantherian.”

  “There are no Pantherians with the leucistic trait, Adam.”

  Adam got up to take their sandwiches from the heat. “There didn’t used to be teleporting rabbits with human brains either.” He didn’t want to consider that Marie had been created in such a place. And yet, she was the second chance at a family that could not have come to him through normal channels. He didn’t know what to do with that idea. He decided to change the subject.

  “Jake said you had stumbled upon a stray cat of your own.”

  “A stray. Not necessarily a cat.”

  “What then?”

  His father shrugged. Adam put the plates on the table. His father picked up his perfectly grilled sandwich, his grip causing melted cheese to ooze from the edges. A tangy apple scent rose on a wisp of steam. He turned it over, seeming to study it, but Adam thought his mind was turning over something else. The magus put it back on the plate, untouched.

  “I find it a little odd that we should both run across strays in an area so far away from the usual Pantherian stomping grounds,” he told Adam.

  The kettle whistled and his father hopped up to busy himself fixing tea. Adam picked up his sandwich, his own appetite gone, but he knew there was a long night ahead for him and this might be the last chance to eat. He wondered what the weather would be like in Romania.

  His teeth sank into perfection, tart apples, mellow cheese. He closed his eyes and chewed. Little pleasures kept him sane in an insane world. His father put a mug of tea in front of him, black tea with cinnamon spice. Hot enough to scald his tonsils, just the way he liked it.

  “You don’t even have to draw blood for a DNA test,” Adam said when his father sat and picked up his sandwich again, took a bite. “Whoever she is, you don’t need her permission. Get a hair sample, a saliva sample. You could just do it.”

  “Procedure doesn’t require it, principles do,” his father said around a mouthful.

  It was a direct hit. Adam put his sandwich down. “You can’t always do the right thing by doing things the right way.”

  And that was particularly true, he thought, when you were trying to right someone else’s wrongs.

  * * * * *

  “How can you think to bring children into this house?” Maya had her hands on her hips and she glared at Ean over the heap of laundry he was trying to collect from the spare room’s bed.

  “We haven’t had much time to deal with laundry lately. We wash it, put it here, find what we need when we need it.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen how well this system is working.”

  Marie circled behind them, more interested in following Lilly than in their argument. Lilly had hopped onto the window seat. Marie looked out at the leaf-strewn lawn and bare winter woods. The snow never stayed long and she’d developed a fondness for rolling in it. The cars were parked in the drive—hers, the box van they’d brought her home in and Adam’s. She wondered who had brought it from the clinic. But more important, where was Adam?

  He’d been gone two days. She’d sniffed her way through every room in the house and no Adam. She hadn’t seen him go outside.

  Lilly pressed her paws to the glass, little nose wiggling, her long floppy ears jiggling in the way they did when she concentrated. Maya’s voice rose sharply behind them, drawing Marie’s attention.

  “And you haven’t had time to deal with preparing a room for the babies? Six babies Ean! Will you put them in cardboard boxes?”

  Ean was filling a couple of cartons with the laundry she was fussing about. He set them in the hall. “There, the bed is empty. Are you happy?”

  Marie turned back. Lilly was gone. But not really gone. Marie could still smell her warm bunny scent mingled with the cedar that lingered from her bedding. Then Lilly materialized right in front of Marie’s eyes, like Captain Kirk beaming down from a ship. Marie sat back on her haunches and blinked. Maya and Ean were in the hall.

  Maya grabbed Ean’s hand and led him back into the room. She pointed to the towers of cartons filled with supplies and equipment, overflow from Adam’s lab. “This will be a nursery by the end of the week, Ean. Make it happen.”

  Marie licked Lilly’s face to be sure she was real. The bunny scrubbed at her cheek with the back of one paw then disappeared again. This time she wasn’t there. Marie tested the empty air with her tongue. No Lilly.

  Ean massaged a spot between his brows. “You can go home now, Maya. I can take it from here.”

  Marie slid between them and pressed her body against Maya’s knees, leaning there to get attention. Maya stroked her head. “Our fathers raised them better than this, sweetie. I promise.”

  “Adam usually organizes things,” Ean said. “I don’t know what’s been up with him lately.”

  Maya was right. They had let things get out of hand and time was running out. From what Marie could gather in the assorted confrontations that passed for communication between this brother and sister, housework was a man’s responsibility. She liked that idea. It explained why Adam and Ean fell over themselves to keep her from lifting a finger around the house in the days before she was a tiger.

  Childrearing, or cubrearing—or was it kittens for tigers? Whatever it was, it was handled by women.

  “What do babies need?” Ean asked.

  Maya sighed, rolled her eyes and held out a hand, palm up. “Just give me a credit card and I’ll order some stuff online.”

  “There’s one in Adam’s desk drawer.”

  “While I do that, you do something about the shredded carpeting, the broken furniture and all of this,” she said, indicating the laundry, Adam’s “temporary” storeroom and a gathering of dust bunnies with a sweeping gesture.

  “Come on, Marie,” she said, “we have shopping to do.” Marie glanced back to the window seat. Lilly hadn’t reappeared.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Ean said catching her arm. “You shop when I fix dinner. For now, you help here.”

  “Do housework?” She stepped back.

  “Well you keep insisting you don’t want a man so you better learn to do a man’s jobs.” Ean slapped a cardboard box in her hands. “You can start by sorting the clothes.”

  Marie sniffed a path around the perimeter of the bed. No Lilly. Marie was sure she couldn’t have fit under there anyway.

  “Like I could actually escape bonding,” Maya grumbled. “As soon as they catch up with me I’m doomed. They should call it bondage.”

  Ean flipped on the light and surveyed the space. Marie studied it too. It would be cheerfully sunny most of the day. Once they cleared it of cartons and clutter, it would make a great nursery.

  Marie wandered between stacks of boxes, sniffing, pausing here and there.

  “I think Marie agrees with your choice of rooms,” Ean said.

  Marie looked around a box tower. Maya was still staring glumly into the carton Ean had pressed on her. He ruffled her hair, then bent to drag cartons away from the window. “Here, come sit
at the window seat while you fold those. You can keep me company.”

  It took him twenty minutes to sort and stack half the supplies in the hall. They could be carried down and put away later. At least he said that was the plan. Maya had managed to fold four towels in that time. Marie had given up the search for Lilly and leaned loyally against Maya’s knees, chin propped on the window seat where she could watch for Adam.

  With Adam around every day she hadn’t been able to think beyond her fury. When he was gone, it was like an arm or a leg was missing. He’d grown into a part of her somewhere in this romance of theirs and she’d taken him for granted as much as she had once taken fingers for granted. She missed him more than she missed her fingers.

  Ean huffed displeasure, folding his arms over his chest, leaning in the doorway with an attitude that said he was about to lecture Maya. Maya didn’t notice. She was wrestling with a flannel shirt. She brushed at a tear with the back of her hand, shook it out and tried again.

  Ean pushed away from the door, his furrowed brow smoothing.

  “Hey, what’s this?” He came to sit with them. Marie lifted her head to give him room and nestled into Maya’s warm lap instead. Maya shrugged and hastily folded the shirt in half, then over again and set it on the stack of towels. Her hands curled into Marie’s fur. Marie could have done a better folding job with her paws but Ean was feeling sorry for Maya and didn’t point that out.

  “You want to tell me why you’re here on your own?”

  A tear splashed on Marie’s nose. She resisted the urge to shake it off. Maya shook her head and another tear disappeared in Marie’s fur.

  “If you know, you will be in more trouble,” Maya said.

  “Do you think anyone would believe me if I said I don’t know what happened with my sister?”

  She sighed and shook her head again.

  “So spill it.”

  “I refused to choose my mates, so the reproductive council assigned a pair.”

  Ean patted her knee. “It’s not the end of the world you know. Not if you are serious about not wanting a mate. Stay home with the folks and refuse to consummate the union.”

  “You’ve been away a long time, Ean.”

  Marie removed her head to rub away a fresh shower of tears. She rubbed her cheek against Maya’s leg. She was wearing a pair of Marie’s jeans that were way too big for her.

  “What does that mean? What’s changed?” Ean asked.

  “Everyone is getting nervous. Fewer females to go around could mean the end of the tribe. Some tribes don’t have enough females to recover their numbers. The situation for tigers isn’t that bad yet, but everyone is worried.”

  “And?”

  Maya lifted her shoulders, taking breath in a gulp and then letting it go in a tearful shudder. She swallowed and sighed again without explaining. Marie put her head back in Maya’s lap.

  Maya’s hands stroked Marie, rapid nervous brushings. Ean reached out, put his hands over hers to still them and waited.

  “They were really angry about my refusal. Mostly they were angry that I push for changes the males don’t want.” Marie could feel Maya’s anger spread, a tension that twitched in her belly and spread out through her limbs. “They had a big meeting and made changes to the code. I can’t refuse my mates.”

  “I don’t understand. You can’t refuse your mates? What? Do they force you?”

  Maya just looked at him, her hands tightly fisted inside Ean’s.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, gave her a tiny shake. “Did they force you, Maya?”

  She shook her head. Her hands clenched and unclenched, pulling at Marie’s fur. “If I do not agree to a mating, they will use artificial insemination. I was ordered to present myself for testing so they could monitor my cycle and impregnate me when my body was biologically receptive.”

  “When your body is receptive!” Ean let go of her. His mouth opened and closed and opened again. “How could they? Like human zookeepers! How dare they?”

  He clutched her hands again, along with tufts of Marie’s fur. Marie winced. “Surely the magus never agreed to this.”

  “He’s not the king, Ean. He’s just a wise old Pantherian. I doubt he knows about the changes.”

  “Of course not. You don’t call in the wise man to approve idiocy.”

  Marie inched out from under their hands and moved a safe distance away.

  “They will not do this to you, Maya. I won’t stand for it. Neither will Adam. Who knows you’re here? How did you get here?”

  Maya glanced at Marie, then looked out the window. “Someone helped me get away. I promised not to say who. No one else knows.”

  “I won’t ask you to break that trust, but if they ever need anything you let me know.”

  She nodded. “The thing is, Ean, I can’t stay here. You and Adam already broke the law. He doesn’t think they’ll enforce it. But things are different now. The tribe is desperate.”

  Fresh tears poured down her face. Marie went to lick them away and nuzzled Maya’s chest gently with her head. Ean hugged them both. “We’re family and we’ll stick together.”

  Marie wriggled free.

  “Harboring me will make it worse for you,” Maya said.

  The Knights of the Round Table had nothing on Ean. Marie knew there were broader implications to what Maya revealed, implications that would involve her. She was also certain that Ean in gallant-mode could fend off any fire-breathing dragons some distant council might send their way. And since her world now included such things as tiger people and disappearing bunnies, a dragon might not be farfetched. The defenses Ean outlined indicated a threat much easier to manage than dragons.

  “First, no one knows we’re here or anything about Marie and the little ones. We hadn’t planned to send out birth announcements. As for you, everyone will be looking for you back home. It will never occur to them that you made it across the ocean to Adam.”

  Maya dried her face on a towel. “You’re probably right. But maybe we better not charge a bunch of baby stuff on Adam’s card.”

  “True. I’ll get cash from an ATM and shop at several different stores.” He ruffled Maya’s hair again. “Make me a list.” Ean went to the hall and grabbed up a couple of cartons. Marie followed him down to Adam’s lab.

  Lilly was perched in the chair in front of Adam’s desk. Marie blinked. She was certain Lilly hadn’t gone out the door. When Ean went back up the stairs Marie stayed with Lilly. The bunny waited until Marie touched noses with her and then she vanished but only to the eye. Marie still felt the presence and was aware of the change, like a cellular humming. She could imitate the pitch easily enough, making a sound that started in her throat, spread down her tongue, to her teeth and into her bones. It was a deliciously pleasant sensation, like the soft lazy buzz that moved through her body when she was aroused, only stronger, like a chord playing instead of a note. And then to her complete surprise, her reflection in the window vanished and she could see Lilly.

  Lilly wiggled her ears, her pitch changed and Marie saw her swoosh through the ceiling to the kitchen. Marie flicked her own ears and kept humming, searching for just the right pitch and swoosh. She was headed for the ceiling. She cringed, faltering and bumped her head, but found her pitch and continued through it like it was no more than air.

  She stopped humming while she was still a couple of inches above the kitchen floor and landed with a thump. She was going to have to work on her landings.

  Lilly thumped her foot on the floor, something she usually did when she was frightened but Marie knew she could beam herself elsewhere if she were afraid. No, she realized as Lilly tipped her head sideways, her blue eyes sparking with a mischievous gleam, that thumping was applause.

  They launched into a game of cat and rabbit, flashing in and out of rooms, but Lilly was always careful not to beam in or out in front of Ean or Maya. Marie decided to keep her secret. After an hour Marie gave up the chase, the babies were tossing and turning madly in her
belly. Dematerializing might not be good for them.

  * * * * *

  When Adam emerged from the portal, he fell over something in front of it and staggered into a pillar of cartons that had sprouted in his absence. For a moment, he thought he’d made a wrong turn.

  “Hmm. What?” Ean’s voice, a sleepy mumble on the other side of the barrier. The desk lamp came on. Adam sucked in his belly and slid between two tipsy stacks. He grabbed his pants from a clothes hook by the lab door.

  Ean was at his desk, a sheaf of printed paper in one hand, the other scrubbing at bloodshot eyes. He had an odd set of creases down one side of his face, as if he had been sleeping with the keyboard as his pillow.

  Adam looked around, dismayed. His lab looked like a bulk goods warehouse.

  “Ean,” he hissed between his teeth. “I’ve only been gone a week. How could you let things get this out of control in seven days?” He shook out the sweats and yanked them on.

  “Hey, you should have seen the place two days ago. Where’ve you been?”

  “Romania. Don’t change the subject. What is all this?”

  “Romania? What’s in Romania?”

  Lilly batted at Adam’s pants leg. He looked down into her wise blue eyes and bent to lift her to his shoulder. “A little place called hell.” He stroked Lilly’s back.

  Ean looked thoughtful. “Hell keeps popping up where you’d least expect. Did you find out much?”

  “I think we can safely assume that Marie didn’t come from Romania.” Adam navigated the maze and put Lilly in her playpen. “Lilly did though. She is chimera, human and rabbit. The techniques they used to produce her are not sophisticated enough to produce Pantherians. Not yet.”

  Adam read the label on a box. “What are buntings?”

  “A baby thing.” Ean flipped through his papers and scratched something out with a pen.

  “Are they safe to sit on?”

  “Probably.”

  Adam sat. He was more than annoyed by the intrusion on his space. Next, they’d be putting his desk in the garage.

  “So where did Marie come from?” Ean asked.

  “Ask me something easy, like who created the heavens and the earth.”