Chapter Fourteen
Dáithí
It’s not until midmorning that Hagen sidles up to my desk. I side-eye him. Neither of us is stupid—he knows I know he deliberately waited for the lull so I can’t avoid him.
“What?”
He pouts. “Is that any way to talk to a member of your support team? I could have been on Eoin’s, you know. I’ve known him longer.”
“You’re welcome to change teams,” I offer.
Truthfully, I’m not sure if I mean it. This whole thing might have turned into something bigger than I was expecting, and I definitely don’t feel like I’m in control anymore, but it’s nice knowing there are people who care.
It’s really nice knowing Eoin might have a chance to—
No. Nope. Not going there.
Hagen’s giving me his best offended look, so I sigh and admit, “I wish you wouldn’t, though. Your help has been… helpful.” That’s the best I can do. I’m known for snark and sass, not kind words.
He either doesn’t care that I’m not a wordsmith or knows that he’s not getting anything better out of me, because the offense turns to smiles. “Great! Anyway, I’m here on business.”
I perk up. “Actual business? Do I need to schedule the conference room for you? Or order catering?”
“No, no… Summit of Love business.”
Wincing, I glance around. “Could we not call it that at the office? Or ever?”
“I don’t know why you’re so precious about this. It’s a great name. The commemorative plaque we’re having made for Eoin if he wins is going to be gorgeous.”
“The what?” He’s joking, right?
“Don’t worry about that for now. We’ve got it handled.”
I’m not reassured at all, and add “commemorative plaque” to my mental list of things to ask Noah to forbid. He’s got more practice dealing with them. “Either change the name, or stop using it at the office. Your call.”
“But—”
I pick up my spray bottle—the red one.
“Okay! Fine. Sheesh. I won’t use the name when I’m talking to you here. I don’t know what your issue with it is, though. It’s not like you made any suggestions.”
Biting my tongue to keep from saying we didn’t need a fucking name to begin with, because that would just mean engaging with him, I set the bottle down. “What do you need, Hagen?”
He looks like he wants to argue some more about the name, but I narrow my eyes and he changes his mind. Instead, he leans against the high part of the desk and says, “You said you wanted to handle the two redacted tasks yourself. Have you decided what to do yet?”
“It hasn’t even been a day,” I point out, avoiding any mention of the fact that I deliberately have not thought about it.
Hagen seems to know anyway, because he nods, smirking. “Yeah, I figured. I’m going to email you a list of suggestions we put together.”
“When?” I demand, exasperated. “When did you have time to do that in the past thirteen hours while also sleeping and working?”
“We multitasked.”
“While sleeping?”
He shrugs. “It’s a gift.”
Would anyone notice if he went missing? Probably. Would they care enough to do anything about it?
Something on my face must give away my thoughts, because he straightens hurriedly and takes a step back. “Jaid would never rest if something happened to me, Dáithí.”
His boyfriend would probably send me a thank-you letter, but all I say is, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Was there something else?”
He’s eyeing me suspiciously now, and I give him my sweetest smile, the one guaranteed to terrify anyone who knows—and has crossed—me.
“Nope. Not while you have your scary face on.” He turns away, hesitates, and turns back. “Just remember that Eoin will need time for both those tasks. You need to get them started as soon as possible.”
I hold out until he’s almost at the security gate before I cave. “Hagen, come back.” To his credit, he’s not gloating when he rejoins me. “What were your suggestions?”
“We’ve asked around—quietly—and have the names of some people who’d let you pet-sit, to see how Eoin copes with having to help you look after a living creature.
You’ve got your choice of two cats, three dogs, and a parakeet.
Alistair’s also in talks with someone about their seahorse.
It’s apparently very needy, which would be a great test, but the tank is too big to move.
We’re not sure if it’s a feasible option. ”
“Seahorse?” It takes me a moment to place what that is—my mind goes immediately to land horses, but they would need super big tanks. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a picture of a seahorse.” Or if I did, I didn’t know what I was looking at. “People keep them as pets?”
Hagen shrugs again. “I don’t think it’s common, but I guess so. They don’t look like horses at all, though. I asked Jaid why they’re called seahorses, but he didn’t know.”
I scribble seahorse on the blotter beside my keyboard as a reminder to google it later. “What else is on the list, other than pet-sitting?”
He hesitates. “Pet-sitting might be the best option.”
“Hagen.”
“You could babysit for a weekend. That might be trickier, though, because so far nobody’s volunteered their kids for a whole weekend. One guy in the legal department at CSG said he’d pay you to take over coaching his kid’s soccer team, but that’s not what we’re looking for.”
“I’m not babysitting kids that don’t know me for a whole weekend,” I declare flatly.
I rarely want to look after kids for more than a couple of hours, even when they do know me—and more to the point, I know they’re not going to turn into monsters as soon as their parents leave.
Other people’s children are precious as long as those other people are around.
The coaching, on the other hand… Hagen’s right, it’s not what we’re looking for, but it could fit the “care for something important” task. Maybe. If I convince Eoin I care about coaching a kids’ soccer team.
It might help if I knew more about soccer than what the uniforms look like.
“Well, then it’s pet-sitting or getting your own pet, which is a huge decision and not something to be done just for the challenge.”
“Huh? Oh, right. Of course. I’d never get a pet just for the sake of the challenge.
” As always when I think about getting a pet, I remember with fond sadness the ones I loved.
I’ve outlived a lot of precious animal companions in my life, and I miss them all.
The grief over losing them fades until the happy memories are stronger, but it never completely disappears.
It’s been a long time since I had a pet, though. Embla died not long after we realized the anomalies were a problem, and even after I’d mourned her passing, I didn’t want to get another pet with everything so unstable. It’s been thousands of years.
Maybe…
“Dáithí?”
I look up and see Hagen still standing there, waiting for me to say something. I have no idea if he asked me a question or just wants me to tell him which option I’ve decided on.
“Let me think about it,” I say. “I’ll try to make a decision today. Or maybe tomorrow.”
He nods slowly. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m fine. Just thinking about some of the pets I’ve had.” I muster a smile. “You know how it is.”
“Hard. It’s hard to lose anyone you love. I have to get back to work, but you can call any of us if you have questions or need help. Eoin already sent Ari to ask us a bunch of stuff. He’s taking this seriously, Dáithí.”
I wait for hope to rise, like it always does when I think Eoin might actually prove himself, then realize it doesn’t have to—its new resting place is so much closer to my conscious self than it was before.
When did that happen, and how much more will it hurt if things don’t turn out? “I know he is.”
Hagen gives me one last, long look before wandering off toward the security gate. I wait until he’s through it before flopping back in my chair. So much to think about.
Starting with, am I ready for another pet? I’ve been here on Earth, safe from the threat of destruction, for over a decade. I have a home, a secure job, and it’s been so long since I had an animal companion to love. Maybe it’s time to consider it.
A little over twenty-seven hours later, I’m convinced I’ve made the right decision, but cursing myself for choosing a two-bedroom townhome with a courtyard instead of a house with a yard. After all, if I’m going to adopt all these precious babies, I’ll need space for them.
Jared chooses that moment to say, “One, Dáithí. You know it wouldn’t be fair to get more than one, at least at first.”
I look around the shelter he brought me to when I asked for his advice on adopting a pet here on Earth, and reluctantly concede that he has a point. “Fine. I don’t have room for them all anyway. Explain to me how this works—I choose my baby and take them home?”
He shakes his head, grinning. “Not exactly. You choose your baby, then fill out a dozen forms and pay a fee. The shelter will take forty-eight business hours to do a background check on you, make sure you’re not someone who has a history of violence against animals or has had a neglected pet in the past.” His eyes widen, and he lowers his voice.
“Is that going to be a problem? With your, um, migration history?”
It takes me a moment to understand he’s concerned about my fake identity being discovered—because of course I wasn’t born in this country, or even in this universe, so all my documents are technically fake.
“No, it’s fine,” I assure him. They’re good fakes—the kind that are registered on government databases as real.
Relieved, he says, “Good. Okay, so after the background check comes back, they’ll call you, and you’ll get to come pick up your baby—and do more paperwork, plus pay another fee for the adoption.”
“The forty-eight-hour delay is for your benefit, as well,” a voice says, and we turn to see the volunteer who walked us in approaching.
She was called away a few minutes ago to help with an unsettled dog.
“It acts as a cooling-off period. A lot of people decide to get a pet on impulse, but then change their minds when they’ve had time to think about it. ”
“That’s sensible,” I approve. “Pet ownership isn’t a game.”
She eyes me curiously. “You’ve had pets before?”
“Oh, yes. Not for—” I cough to cover my almost slip. “Excuse me. Not for a while, but I had several while I was… growing up.” That’s probably the best answer I’m going to come up with. I hope she doesn’t ask what kind, because then I’ll have to outright lie.
To my relief, her face turns sympathetic. “It’s hard to lose them, isn’t it? I’m glad you’re ready to share your love again. Did you want a dog?” She glances at the enclosures around us, which all seem to contain dogs. “How much space do you have?”
“Not much,” I say regretfully. “My work hours are fairly regular, but I don’t think a big dog would be a good idea—they’d be cooped up all day.”
That wins me a nod of approval. “You’re at work all day, then? Is there anyone else at home?”
I shake my head. “Just me.”
Grimacing, she glances around at the dogs again.
“Honestly, I don’t think we have any dogs at the moment that would suit you.
As you can see, most of them are big, and the few smaller ones we have are young and energetic.
They might not need as much space as a big dog, but they’d still feel cooped up and lonely while you were at work.
” She shrugs. “If you’re set on a dog, maybe check back next week?
We do get older dogs quite often when their people pass on and there’s no one to take them. ”
“Maybe,” I muse. “Let’s have a look around the other animals and see if I fall in love with anyone before I decide.”
“What about a cat?” Jared suggests as we leave the dog room and enter another. “Margie misses me when I’m at work, but she’s never upset about being alone.”
“We do have some cats who might suit…”
I’m not sure what she says after that, because I’ve stopped listening.
My attention has been caught by the sweetest face I’ve ever seen.
“It’s a bunny,” I whisper, leaning forward to see that twitchy little nose better.
At least, I think it’s a bunny. For some reason, the bunnies that appear most often in media are anthropomorphized.
“Dáithí?” Jared appears at my side. “We lost you. Ohhhhh.”
“Have you ever had a pet rabbit before?” the volunteer, who never told us her name, asks.
I shake my head. “No, never.”
“Okay, well… this lady would actually be pretty perfect for you. Rabbits can live for about twelve years, and she’s three, which means she’s past her toddler years.
She’s also very placid, even for her breed, and she’s the perfect example of how her species have more energy in the morning and evening.
So while you’re at work, she’ll probably be perfectly fine napping and having quiet time.
” She flips the latch on the enclosure and reaches in to pick up my new sweetheart. “Want to hold her?”
I already have my hands out when she turns, and I pay close attention to her instructions. Soon I have the sweetest, softest bundle of brown and white fur cuddled up to me, that nose twitching up at me as though asking me to keep her.
“Is she healthy?” Jared asks. I don’t care, but I listen to the answer anyway, in case my new baby needs medical assistance.
“Perfectly. She’s been desexed and had all her shots and been microchipped. She was a little girl’s birthday present, but it turned out the little girl was severely allergic. They had to call an ambulance when she went into anaphylactic shock. Not a fun birthday for her.”
“That poor girl—both of them,” Jared says, running a finger down my bunny’s back.
“When her father brought this lady in, he said she’d made him promise that we’d call to let her know if new people adopted her. I hope that would be okay with you?”
“Of course,” I murmur. “We can send her a photo, too, if she’d like.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you.” She hesitates. “Normally at this point I’m supposed to ask if you’d like to meet any of the other animals, but…”
“Nope. This sweetheart is for me. Did her previous owner have the chance to give her a name?”
“No, I’m afraid.”
I smile as my sweetheart closes her eyes and tucks her face against my chest. “Then her name is Elsking.”