17. Laina
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LAINA
Iwaited at the gate in Bertha, watching my mother’s silver rental sedan creep down the road like it was afraid of getting dirty.
Even from a distance I could see her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
She pulled through the gate and followed me down the tree-lined road.
A puddlewump darted across ahead of my truck, its semi-liquid body wobbling like a sentient water balloon.
I slowed. In the mirror, my mother’s brake lights flared red.
Everything about this world would feel wrong to her. She’d say it was too wild and uncontrolled. Too much like the life I’d chosen that looked nothing like her own.
We reached the clearing and the facility came into view. She stopped her car beside mine in the lot. I slid from Bertha’s driver’s seat to the ground as she got out and smoothed her cream-colored slacks.
Carol Mercer looked like she’d dressed for a country club lunch, not a creature rescue facility in rural Maine.
Her hair was the same honey-brown I remembered, though now professionally colored to hide the gray.
She wore a silk blouse under a tailored jacket, pearl earrings that caught the afternoon light, and shoes with a modest heel that were already collecting mud.
She looked tired under the makeup. The pearl earrings were the same ones Dad had given her for their tenth anniversary, the ones she’d worn every day until she left. I’d forgotten she still had them.
She’d maintained herself the way she did everything, with careful attention and visible effort.
“Laina.” She smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. “You look well.”
“So do you.”
We stood in the parking lot, two women who shared genetics and history and almost nothing else, performing the ritual of reunion.
“It’s very…” She gestured at the area in general. “Wild out here. Untamed. That huge fence and…things in the woods. Is this place even safe?”
“It is.” My voice came out flat. “The creatures won’t hurt anyone.”
“You’re not worried being so isolated? Is there cell service beyond the gate?”
“There is.” Enough. “I like the quiet.”
Her smile thinned. “You always did. And now you’re going to be talking to animals. Just like your father.”
Five orcs stood waiting outside the main entrance, arranged in what I assumed was Krem’s idea of a formal greeting line.
Brovish stood in the center, his shoulders back, his expression earnest. Beside him, Krem held a clipboard like a shield.
Drogar grinned, showing his impressive tusks.
Traig’s face remained neutral. Greth stood silent at the left end.
Sofia rode on Brovish’s shoulder, her round body tucked against his neck.
My mother’s steps slowed as we approached them. She kept glancing from them to me.
Brovish stepped forward first, pulling himself up to his full height, which made him look even more imposing than usual.
“My lady,” he said, his voice formal and careful. “We’re pleased to have you in our humble throwing.”
Krem’s mouth twitched.
“Place,” I said quietly. “He means place.”
“Yes. That word.” Brovish’s ears darkened. “Welcome to our rescue facility. I’m Brovish.” He gestured. “This is Krem, Drogar, Traig, and Greth. We’re the owners and operators of the Creature Rescue League.”
My mother extended her hand, and Brovish took it carefully. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on his tusks.
“Carol Mercer,” she said. “Laina’s mother.”
“We know. She speaks of you with…fondness.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Does she?”
I hadn’t, actually. But Brovish didn’t elaborate, and my mother didn’t press. She just gave me a pointed look.
Krem stepped forward next, the clipboard still clutched to his chest. “We’ve prepared refreshments and a tour. If you would like to follow us inside, we can begin with an overview of our facility operations and safety protocols.”
“That sounds lovely,” my mother said in the tone she used when something was anything but.
We went inside to the break room.
Krem produced tea with the kind of ceremony usually reserved for state dinners. He’d set out cups, saucers, and a small plate of cookies that must’ve come from the bakery in town. The kettle had been warming, and he poured, his tongue flicking between his tusks in concentration.
Drogar hovered too close, watching my mother like she was a fascinating specimen.
“You have very straight teeth,” Drogar said suddenly.
My mother blinked. “Thank you?”
“Straight teeth mean good bone strength. This is valued in potential allies.” He leaned closer. “Also, you smell like confusion flowers. Are you nervous feeling?”
“Drogar,” Traig said without looking up from his tablet. He stood in the doorway, ready to manage whatever chaos erupted.
“I’m being friendly welcoming.”
“You’re being intrusive.”
“Is there a difference in human customs?”
Greth leaned against the far wall, silent and observing.
My mother accepted the tea and held it in both hands.
“So,” she said, her gaze moving from orc to orc before landing on me. “One of them mentioned safety protocols? I’d like to understand how those work when you’re dealing with creatures that are, from what I understand, not native to the surface world.”
Brovish straightened. “We have extensive protocols. Each creature is evaluated for temperament before being brought to the surface, let alone placed in adoptive homes. We maintain secure enclosures with regular inspections. All staff are trained in creature behavior and emergency response.”
“And funding?” She took a delicate sip of tea. “How is an operation like this sustained? Is this a hobby, or a genuine business venture?”
“We receive grants from both human and kingdom sources,” Traig said, not looking up from his tablet. “We also generate revenue through educational programs and adoptions. All of us have…plenty of resources. The facility is more than financially stable. Its spreadsheets prove this.”
“And what’s the long-term viability of a place like this?”
“If the pattern-of-now continues forward, we’ll need to build bigger within three seasons,” Krem said.
My mother nodded. She wasn’t being rude. She was trying to understand in the only way she knew how, by reducing everything to data points and risk assessments. Her MBA was speaking now.
Brovish’s fingers drummed on the table, the same rhythm I’d watched him tap out when he wrote in his notebook.
“And what exactly is Laina’s role here?” my mother asked. “I understand she’s your veterinarian. For these…creatures.” The word “creatures” came out with a slight curl of her lip. “But why would you need a full-time vet?”
“She makes the impossible-seeming possible,” Krem said. “Without her, we would be orcs with good hearts but empty skills.”
By her frown, I could tell that made very little sense to my mother.
“You’d be surprised by how many creatures come through the facility,” I said. “And the need for a vet. I helped a creature give birth a few nights ago, and orc kingdom creatures have their own delicate physical needs. I keep a close eye on them all.”
Sofia launched from Brovish’s shoulder, flying across the space in a streak of orange, landing on my mother’s shoulder.
With a shriek, Carol made a frantic chopping motion with her hands near her shoulder. “Good heavens. Get it off me.”
Brovish froze.
“She’s friendly,” I said. “She won’t bite. She just…likes you.”
I had no idea why.
I’d seen Sofia reject people at adoption events, refusing contact with anyone she didn’t know and trust. Other than me, she’d never flown to a stranger this fast. Brovish’s eyes found mine across the table.
Emberkits choosing someone new meant they’d found someone who could be trusted with their heart.
“Friendly, you say?” At least my mother’s voice had lowered from shrill to something more neutral. Her hand rose slowly, tentatively, hovering near Sofia’s back before making contact. She stroked the emberkit’s spine with careful fingers, still looking slightly terrified.
Sofia purred, the sound rumbling through the silence.
“Well,” my mother said, her voice strained. “Hello to you too, I suppose.”
The driftwhisps in my hair tilted their heads toward her, their silver tendrils brightening.
My mother squinted at my head. “What are those things?”
“Driftwhisps,” I said. “They follow emotional resonance. They choose people based on something we can’t measure.”
“They chose you? Are they safe?”
“Yes, they are.”
She leaned back, gaping at Sofia. “And this one?”
“That’s Sofia. She’s an emberkit,” I said. “She usually stays with Brovish.”
“In the kingdom,” Brovish said quietly, “when an emberkit chooses someone new, they’re showing their trust. They’ve decided this person is worthy of the bond circle.” He looked at my mother with something close to awe. “It’s considered a great honor. Sofia is…choosing.”
“He means choosy,” I said.
My mother’s expression remained conflicted. “She feels warm. And spiky.”
“She produces heat. It’s how emberkits regulate temperature and express contentment.”
My mother continued to stroke Sofia’s back, fascination warring with her discomfort.
“Her standards are very high for who she gifts her affection-presence to,” Krem said.
“Creatures know things humans don’t,” I said. “Things about true character.”
My mother absorbed this, though her gaze stayed fixed on Sofia.
“Would you like to see the rest of the facility?” I asked once she’d finished her tea.
She looked up, and for the first time since arriving, her attention seemed less centered on finding fault. “If there’s more to see.”
“There’s a lot more to see.”
We walked through the building together, my mother asking questions that had changed from skeptical to curious.
She commented on the organization, the cleanliness, and the obvious care in every detail.
Krem’s labels on every cabinet. Traig’s color-coded filing system.
The way Drogar had arranged the supply room so everything had a designated space.
“This is very well maintained,” she said, a touch surprised.
“We take our responsibilities seriously,” Brovish said from behind us.