Chapter 14 #2
The werewolves had acquired a wheelbarrow earlier in the week from one of the other houses, and they had brought it every day since to fill with food and anything else that people had requested.
No one had complained that they were effectively stealing from the empty houses.
When Noah had raised it—not wanting to create extra trouble—Jarot had said that it was better the items get where they need to be, where they are useful, than be left to rot in bad weather.
Sometimes they came across people still living in their house, fearful of stepping out.
Pan took the lead in those situations, explaining what was going on in Tarikian.
That would be Jarot’s job today, as despite Pan’s instruction on how to feel a language, he hadn’t learned a single word aside from the most basic of greetings.
If nothing else, being able to use magic to learn languages would be amazing.
Everyone was silent as they crossed the barricade—which was unguarded—and walked down the street.
It was one of the worst hit. The road had sagged, and there were large potholes in places.
The human buildings had folded in on themselves.
What had once been six neat and expensive townhouses were now crooked and rotten teeth in need of pulling out.
The mytho buildings had fared no better, leaning at strange angles as if the ground had started to consume them…
or was halfway through spitting them out.
Web swore as he almost tripped over a pothole in the asphalt. “Is this the worst-hit street?”
“Maybe. It seems that no building survived without damage.” Yesterday, the mytho houses had only minor damage, while the human houses had all suffered badly.
On the other streets, it was the opposite. And sometimes the damage was random. On this street, it seemed as though every house had sustained catastrophic damage.
“These do not look as though they can be fixed,” Jarot said, taking in the dramatically tilted roofs. “But can all be used for parts.”
“How do you know whose house it was?” Liam asked.
“We try and figure out where we are in Beita, our city, and look for clues for if it’s a vampire, an elf, or other. We want the owners to be able to claim their belongings…but sometimes that’s not possible because they didn’t survive.”
“So what now?” Web shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Now we let the werewolves sniff for bodies, and we carefully look for food. Pair up and if you find someone…or a body…call out.”
“Should we check the townhouses?” Liam tilted his head at the human buildings.
“I don’t know if the human authorities have been through here. I’m assuming that if anyone was hurt, they’ve already called for help.”
“Can we check them for food?” Web asked.
Noah was sure he meant booze and valuables.
Web wasn’t above helping himself when he thought no one was watching.
When they’d first met, Web had seemed like fun—living life on the edge and taking chances.
Now…it was kind of tiresome, and he didn’t want to get into unnecessary trouble.
No, he had found plenty of that in the horned twink with a hunger for magic.
“Aunt Mer said taking anything from human houses would be considered looting.”
Jarot’s eyes narrowed as he considered Web. “And humans taking things from Tarikian houses will also be considered looting.”
“Bodies, food, and anything that might identify the owner.” Noah expected Jarot to go with him, but instead, he volunteered to go with Web as if deciding Web needed closer supervision.
Noah was dreading finding anyone. And by the time they stopped for lunch, they had assembled some food. They also had a couple of small paintings and some books, which Noah figured were either diaries or orders relating to the owners’ businesses.
They sat in the sun, legs outstretched. The werewolves talked amongst themselves in Tarikian, and Noah closed his eyes and tried to feel the words the way Pan had tried to teach him more than once.
They’d sat on the bed, and Pan had placed his hand over his heart and had Noah do the same to him. Then he talked, Noah had no idea if Pan was describing the bedroom or telling him tales from Tariko. But there was a flow to the language, and he thought he could sense when words ended and began.
Maybe.
He was also trying to learn the human way, pointing to something so the werewolf could name it, and Noah could repeat it. Badly. He was pretty sure he could say hello and goodbye without offending anyone. And Jarot had taught him a few swear words.
Last night, when he’d touched magic for a couple of heartbeats—longer than before because he knew how to find the turn in the tide in those seconds before he came—he’d sought Pan’s safe return from the centaurs.
Tonight, he would seek the ability to learn Tarikian because it was frustrating not knowing what was going on.
Was any of it working? He didn’t know, and it was hard to tell if things wouldn’t have unfolded that way regardless. No Strega had turned up, even though that is what Pan directed the magic to every time.
Was it cheating to direct the magic to learning Tarikian when Pan said that is how mythos learned new languages anyway? And given that there were humans on Tariko, that meant humans had the ability to learn the same as every mytho, even though he hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Are you listening in, consort?” Jarot said.
Noah’s eyes popped open. “What?”
Jarot laughed. And said something else. At Noah’s frown, he spoke again. This time in English. “I said, you are learning. But perhaps you can only understand with your eyes closed.”
“Oh…did you ask me a question in Tarikian?”
“I did, and you do not need to answer because your reaction was enough.” Jarot stood, and the other werewolves got up without him needing to say anything. “We are almost done with this road. Which direction will we go?”
Noah pulled out the map. It didn’t matter which way they went; they were still in the area the human authorities were calling the red zone, as it was uninhabitable.
The pub was in the orange zone, meaning that some of the area was habitable.
His aunt and uncle’s house was in a green zone, which meant virtually unaffected. Yellow zones were lightly damaged.
A decision had been made to focus on orange zone repairs first, except for essential businesses such as supermarkets, doctors’ clinics, and pharmacies in yellow zones. Red zones would be left until last, and would probably be demolished after years of sitting empty and exposed to the elements.
Noah suspected the mythos would sort out their own houses long before the humans decided what to do about them, regardless of where they were officially zoned.
“We might as well go right…unless something is familiar and you want to go left?” He indicated the direction he meant as well.
“Right is alright,” Jarot laughed. “Right?”
Liam groaned. “Are you making a terrible joke?”
“And you also right?” He mimed writing.
“It’s spelled differently, but yes,” Liam said.
“Write and right?” Jarot mimed and pointed.
“Actually, because of the way you are standing, it’s my right but your left.” Noah stood and rolled his shoulders.
Jarot threw up his paws and said something to the other werewolves before turning back to Noah. “Left and right changes?”
“No, this is my left.” He waved his left hand. “That is your left.”
Jarot nodded. “Do you have a set direction?”
“Yeah.” He opened the map for Jarot. “We are here, about to turn right onto this road.” He pointed at the north arrow. “That’s north. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Does that help?”
“Palace?” He pointed to the pub on the map.
“Yeah.”
Jarot traced over the map with a claw. “Strega house. Right to go right.”
“We’d say it’s a good idea to go right.” He folded up the map and shoved it into the front pocket of his backpack before picking it up.
Liam got to his feet. “This is more tiring than it sounded.”
“This has been an easy day.” Noah hadn’t made a single phone call.
Jarot nodded. “Agreed. But so much more to do.”
Noah nodded. “Come on. Hopefully, the afternoon will be just as dull.”