Page 74 of Backpacking through Bedlam

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Alice-Verity’s-grandmother,” she said, politely.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, more wary than polite.

“We don’t have many grandparents among my kind.”

“No?”

“Istas, be nice,” said Ryan.

Her smile became more of a snarl, showing me all of her strong, white, human-seeming teeth. “We eat them before they can become too much of a burden to the rest of us. So I lack Verity’s sympathy for your role in her family.”

Dominic started to protest. Istas raised a hand to quiet him. He stopped.

There was a soft thump as Thomas landed on the roof. I didn’t allow myself to turn and look at him. Istas was a predator. A predator in a fluffy, lacy dress, but a predator all the same. Turning my back on her might be the last thing I ever did.

“I would like you to explain, please, why grandparents are necessary.”

“We know things,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “We’ve been around to learn more than someone younger might know. And sometimes we can be a little set in our ways, especially for people who are used to newer methods of doing things, but sometimes, the old way is the right way, because no one sees it coming. And because we’re family.”

Sally squeaked as she hit the roof, a small sound, quickly swallowed, but audible.

“Family needs family. It’s not always about blood—Thomas and I aren’t blood, and Sally isn’t blood to either of us—but it’s about knowing where you belong, and feeling like you’ll be welcome there. Verity’s our family. That means she needs us.” I paused before venturing a guess: “I get the feeling Verity’s your family, too, and that’s why you’re so concerned about whether or not we’re good for her. I can’t promise we’ll always make her happy, but I can promise that we’ll always love her, and that we’re just here to help.”

That seemed to satisfy Istas. She turned without another word, walking across the roof toward the promised fire escape. Ryan shot me a helpless, half-adoring look. The adoration was in no way for me.

“She can be a little intense sometimes, sorry about that,” he said, and took off after her.

I waited until he was halfway across the roof before letting out a shaky breath and looking toward Dominic.

“That happen often?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Istas is the first waheela—the only waheela—I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. They’re not found in Europe, and Covenant attempts at study and extermination have not historically ended very well.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” said Thomas. To Sally, he added, “Waheela are therianthropes—natural shapeshifters. When it pleases her, our Miss Istas is likely to be somewhere between ten and twelve feet tall and capable of throwing motor vehicles, as well as resembling a hybrid of a dire wolf and a grizzly bear.”

Sally blinked, looking momentarily nonplussed. Then she shrugged. “Okay,” she said, like this was perfectly normal, and started across the roof after Ryan and Istas.

Thomas, Dominic, and I hurried to catch up.

“She takes things in stride for someone who appears to have quite a few holes in her education,” commented Dominic.

“Sally was introduced to the cryptid world when she made a bargain with the crossroads which they couldn’t refuse but also couldn’t fulfill without going against an earlier bargain they had been holding to for over a century,” said Thomas. “They hurled her into the prison dimension where they had placed me, leaving her surrounded by individuals we would class as cryptids here on Earth, but who she saw first as aliens, and later as people. I think that sink-or-swim approach to what it means to be a person is making it slightly easier for her to adjust.”

“That, or she’s going to have a screaming breakdown just as soon as we get back to Michigan,” I said.

The fire escape was bare metal and probably violated half a dozen safety codes, most of them having to do with tetanus. I clomped down it after Ryan, Sally, and Istas, with Thomas and Dominic close behind me. Our feet echoed enough that it was difficult to believe no one could hear us inside the building, but no windows opened, and we made it to the ground without interruption. The alley smelled of slowly liquifying trash, stale beer, and old urine: the classic perfume of the city streets. Istas and Ryan were waiting next to a dumpster, and when I gave them a curious look, Ryan shrugged.

“The smell helps to cover our tracks.”

“Not mine,” said Istas. “Waheela leave no scent behind. Tracking our kind is a more difficult proposition than following a single human, or a tanuki. Although . . .” She looked at me and blinked slowly, a predator’s assessing expression on her face. “Verity smells odd. Not quite of humankind, but close enough that I have always assumed it was within the normal deviance for your species. You smell much the same, but more strongly. Was your mother bred to something other than a human man, or was she something other than a human woman?”

“I’m really not sure how to answer that,” I said, as the others reached us and saved me from the need to try. Dominic motioned for the rest of us to follow him, and led the way out of the alley to the other side of the block, where things were basically exactly the same. Oh, the businesses were different, but it was the same mixture of storefronts and street activity. We paused at the mouth of the alley to look around, making sure we weren’t being followed, and I moved to the front of the group, away from the smell of trash. Which probably explained why Ryan and Istas were hanging back. As therianthropes, they had far more sensitive senses of smell than a bunch of humans, and the smell of trash was something they were accustomed to. It wasn’t going to distract them the way it did me.

“Hey,” I said, glancing at Dominic. “I thought alleys were rare in New York, outside of the movies. How . . . ?”

“The city as a whole, yes. The Meatpacking District, not as much. They used to dispose of animal corpses here, and it was easier if they could do it where no one was going to see.”

“Charming,” I said.