Page 30 of Backpacking through Bedlam

“Getting here wiped Thomas out,” I said. “He’s been sleeping since we got home, which is part of why I don’t want to go shopping on my own. That, and I’ll need to get the truck out of storage and make sure it runs without catching fire or something before I can haul more than I can carry, and I’m planning to be here for a while. I want to bake.”

“You and your Bundt cakes,” said Cynthia, sounding almost fond.

“There’s nothing wrong with a quality Bundt cake,” I said. “I’ll call Kevin and Jane once Thomas is ready to deal with company, because you know they’ll be here as soon as they can catch a flight.”

“That’s part of what I’m afraid of. You called that babysitter of yours?”

“I don’t think she’s been my babysitter for a long time, and no. Once she knows, she’ll tell the others, and then everyone will know, and we’re back to ‘I’d like Thomas to be awake and able to say he doesn’t mind before I call a family reunion down on his head.’”

Cynthia nodded slowly. “You’re being smarter about this than I expected you to be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a kid anymore.” I shrugged. “I had to figure out how to plan before I punched a while ago.”

“Not so I’ve seen.”

“You’ve seen me when I was catching my breath,” I said. “I’m not catching my breath anymore. I’m home. There’s a real difference.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re not going to cock this up completely. I’ll have hope, anyway.” Cynthia offered me a pale smile, then turned and walked away. I followed her to the living room, watching her offer Sally a brief nod before heading to the door.

Sally, standing and clutching her spear, didn’t say anything or introduce herself as Cynthia stepped outside.

“I’ll see you later, Cyn,” I said. “Hopefully Thomas is awake when you come back with the cobbler. You can meet Sally after we’ve both had a chance to shower.”

“Remember what we talked about,” said Cynthia, and shut the door.

I snorted. “She can make anything sound dire.” I turned back to Sally. “There’s food if you’re hungry, although it’ll keep if you’re not. It’s a little early for dinner, and we haven’t used the dining room in decades. I know it’s going to be clean. That doesn’t mean it’s in any condition to host a sit-down meal. We’re probably eating on the couch, and that means waiting for himself to wake up and share it.”

Sally blinked, still staring at the door. “That woman . . .” she said, and stopped, clearly unsure how to continue.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“That woman had a tail,” she said. “An actual tail. It moved. When she walked, it moved. She wasn’t just a furry. What the actual fuck?”

“You’re going to have to get used to people with tails,” I said. “One of the grandkids is dating a fu¯ri, and he has a tail when he’s not playing human. Which seems to be most of the time, since fu¯ri don’t have ‘look like a hairless biped’ as a default form. He looks human enough that it’s not as weird as it could be, which is a good thing, since her sister would never stop tormenting her if she could spin their relationship into being something kinky.” I paused. “Honestly, Verity probably does that anyway. I didn’t have any siblings, and watching the two of them interact makes me sort of happy about that. Verity is not kind to her younger sister.”

“But . . . a tail,” said Sally. “On her body. How does that make anatomical sense?”

“I mean, it probably makes more sense than humans evolving not to have them, given the way our spines work, but we have books you can read, if you’re that interested in cryptid anatomy. When she comes back with dessert, if she’s less cranky, I’ll try to get her to take her jacket off. That’s really going to blow your mind.”

“Why?”

“Huldra are . . . honestly, no one’s quite sure what Huldra are. They don’t tend to leave bodies when they die, and that makes autopsies impossible. They come in three primary types. One turns to stone upon death. One basically melts into water, and one literally takes root and becomes a grove of trees. All three kinds, though, have hollow backs, and are sanguivores.”

“I feel like I’m going to be unhappy when I learn what that word means.”

“It means they live on blood, Sally,” said Thomas from the couch, his voice raspy from his impromptu nap, but clear all the same. “Vampire bats are sanguivores. So are mosquitoes. Huldra are the largest and most sophisticated sanguivores in the world.”

“They’re vampires?” Sally gave me a disbelieving look, before switching it over to Thomas.

“Not in the way you’re thinking, but it’s a close-enough term,” said Thomas. “They feed on blood. They’re as much vegetable as animal, but as Alice said, we don’t fully understand their biology. The world is full of mysteries, and we should be grateful, as a world completely understood is a world with little enchantment left to offer.” He lifted a hand, resting it on his forehead. “And on that note—can anyone solve the mystery of where I am right now?”

“We’re home, honey,” I said, walking over and bending down to brush a kiss against his fingers. He opened his eyes and smiled blearily up at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. Home, meaning . . . ?”

“Buckley.”

“Ah. That explains the lumps in the couch.”