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“We’ll find someone else to ask. Our daughter has already made her thoughts known. If we do this.” Tariq raised a hand. “And I do mean if. We work through it without any help from Vixi.”
“Agreed.” Sulat made a show of dusting himself off. “She’d shed her scales if she could see us right now.”
“It’s not my scales you should be worried about.”
Qarf. “Vixi? What are you doing here?” both of them asked at almost the same time.
Their daughter stepped out of a shadowy corner, her scowl a perfect replica of Tariq’s. “Funny thing. Several of my friends contacted me to let me know my fathers were beating each other senseless in public.”
Sulat looked around for the first time since the fight began. They’d attracted an audience. The usual sounds of the arena were silenced, and all attention was on them and their small corner.
“We were practicing. That’s what this space is for,” Tariq tried to explain.
Vixi flared her wings in annoyance. “Practicing. Right. I’m not a child anymore. Don’t treat me like one. I know what you were doing, and I can make a fair bet on the reason why.”
From somewhere in the back, someone called out. “Damn, you’re cute when you get riled, Vixi. After you finish dealing with your fathers, you should have a drink with us.”
Sulat whipped out a dagger and pointed it in the general direction of the voice. “Find somewhere else to be. Now. All of you. Especially whoever made that last comment.”
The same voice whooped with laughter. This time, he recognized it. So did Tariq. “Cam Allen, I know that was you. Stay away from our daughter.”
Vixi waved the others off. “You don’t have any say in my love life, Fathers. Not when you’re making a spectacle of yourselves trying to figure out your own. Go home, get cleaned up and do something about the blood and bruises. We’ll talk later.” She turned and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Sulat asked.
“To get a drink with Cam and his friends,” she replied without turning around or even slowing down.
He and Tariq sighed and made their way to the exit, both of them doing their best to walk tall despite their battered bodies. The temporary pain was worth it, though. The two of them were finally on the same flight path. It was about fraxxing time.
8
Five days. She’d been avoiding Tariq and Sulat for the better part of a week. Jody knew she needed to deal with it, but she’d rather be dropped into a pen of starving gharshtu than face Tariq and Sulat right now.
This wasn’t the way she wanted things to go, but after she heard about their brawl at the local arena, what other choice did she have? Everyone in the colony seemed to have an opinion on the matter. Most thought it amusing and seemed to enjoy relaying every detail, real or invented. Some expressed curiosity about what the fight was about and offered up their personal theories.
Jody had a damned good idea what the fight was about. Her. Which was why she’d kept her distance from both males and their daughter despite the fact she worked with them all in some capacity. She’d handled her administrative work from home, rearranged her hours at the clinic, and taken efforts to arrive at the new arrivals integration camp during periods she knew Vixi was busy elsewhere.
So far, it had worked, though Lores made sly remarks about it every chance she could. Beneath her teasing and sometimes caustic remarks was an undertone of concern Jody appreciated.
“I’ll figure it out today,” she muttered as she made her way to the clinic. Dodging the last remnants of puddles left by last night’s rain. The early morning weather was clear and bright, though, lifting her spirits despite the lingering chill in the air.
Haven’s streets and sidewalks were quiet at this time of the day, but a handful of beings were already out and about. Some prepared their stores and businesses for opening while others were on their way to work on coming home from a night shift. She smiled at those she recognized but never slowed her pace. Not until she spotted the small crowd gathered around the front door of the clinic.
So many patients this early? Had there been an accident? Another outbreak of illness? And why were they all outside?
She hurried forward, her mind filled with questions she couldn’t answer yet.
Once she was close enough, she called out to the group of Vardarians gathered outside her clinic. “I’m here. What’s the issue? Who needs help first?”
Some turned toward her, wearing similar expressions of worry or even fear. Others shied away, leaving the area with their heads down and wings partially extended, as if they might take flight any second.
She didn’t shift her focus to the damage until she was certain none of them needed aid.
What the hell?
The windows and doors of her clinic had been vandalized—not with paint or even a laser etching device but with something more disturbing. The air reeked of chemicals that stung her nose and made her eyes water. Despite her blurred vision, Jody saw that a single symbol appeared repeatedly, identical in size and still smoking slightly from whatever acid had been used.
Something about the glyph, which looked to her like a series of swirling lines inside a circular border, tickled the back of her brain. She’d seen it before but where? She shoved that question aside. It could wait until she’d dealt with more urgent issues. Like getting inside to check for damage to the clinic itself.
