Chapter 26
“I ’m telling you, something’s wrong,” Estelle insisted. “They don’t act like mates.”
“Keep your voice down,” Flora said, casting a glance at the front of the art room, where Honey was showing Claire and Beth how to shape a lump of clay into a vase on the pottery wheel. “They’re right over there.”
“What do you mean, they don’t act like mates?” Flora asked. She stuck another feather on the griffin sculpture she was making with Rufus and Finley. “They stare at each other all the time.”
“I know, but… look, I’ll show you.” Estelle stuck a hand in the air. “Buck! I need more clay!”
Buck looked up from cleaning sculpting tools at the back of the room. “Again? What in dog’s name are you making, a life-sized model of Thunder Mountain?”
Estelle hastily squished her blobby, misshapen unicorn with one elbow. “I’m trying to make my dad, but I keep messing up his head. Can you get me more clay?”
Buck let out an exasperated sigh, but headed for the art supply cupboard. Extracting another hunk of clay, he stalked over to their table.
“There you go.” He dropped the clay in front of Estelle with a resounding thud. “I’m cutting you off, though. You want more, you’ll have to go dig it up yourself.”
Estelle poked at the clay. “It’s too stiff. Will you work it for me, like Honey showed us earlier?”
“What, your hands fallen off?”
“I’m only little. I don’t have my full shifter strength yet.” Estelle batted her pale eyelashes at him. “Pleeeeeeeease, Buck?”
From Buck’s narrowed eyes, he smelled a rat. Nonetheless, he picked up the clay again. He started working it between his hands, rolling and squeezing.
Catching the others’ eyes, Estelle jerked her chin meaningfully at the front of the room. Honey’s hands had frozen on her half-formed vase. Claire asked something, but Honey didn’t reply. She stared at Buck’s flexing biceps, expression a little glazed, sloppy clay piling up around her fingers.
As if sensing his audience, Buck glanced up. Honey jerked her gaze away, accidentally crumpling one side of her vase as she did so. Cheeks pink, she bent over the pottery wheel to fix her mistake.
Buck’s attention lingered for a moment on Honey, watching her coax her clay back into a smooth, rising pillar. Then he cleared his throat.
“Right,” he said gruffly. He slammed the lump of clay down in front of Estelle. “That’s soft now, at least. Any of the rest of you need some help?”
“Nope!” Estelle said before anyone else could reply. She shooed Buck away with a cheerful wave. “We’re all good! Thanks!”
Buck returned to the sink, though not without shooting them several suspicious glares over his shoulder. Estelle maintained her innocent expressions until his back was safely turned. Then she put her elbows on the table, motioning them all into a conspiratorial huddle.
“You see?” she whispered.
“No,” Flora and Finley said in unison, but Rufus’s golden eyes were still resting thoughtfully on Honey. He cocked his head like a bird, eyebrows drawing down.
“Exactly,” Estelle said triumphantly in reply to Rufus’s telepathic comment. “See, Rufus gets it.”
“Honey only watches Buck when she thinks he isn’t looking,” Finley said slowly. “And vice versa.”
“So?” Flora said. “Why is that weird?”
“Your parents are true mates, right?” Estelle said. At Flora’s nod, she went on, “Imagine that had been them just now, instead of Buck and Honey. What would they have done?”
Flora wrinkled her nose. “Gone all sappy and embarrassing.”
“Right.” Estelle screwed up her face in a matching grimace. “My mom and dad are forever just standing around with big stupid smiles, staring at each other. I’ve seen your parents do it too, Rufus, and Finley’s.”
Finley heaved a long-suffering sigh. “One time, my dad got so distracted by my mom while he was meant to be cooking, he set fire to the spaghetti. And himself.”
“And that’s my point,” Estelle said. “True mates can’t help acting like total loons when they catch sight of each other. It’s like, their brains stop working or something. But Buck and Honey aren’t like that.”
Rufus nodded.
“They aren’t being embarrassing,” Finley said, speaking Rufus’s telepathic words out loud for Flora’s benefit. “They’re acting embarrassed. ”
“ I know what’s wrong,” Archie butted in from further along the table. He swiveled round on his stool, clay splattered across his t-shirt and face. “They haven’t done it.”
“Done what?” Flora said, looking puzzled.
“You know.” Archie made a brief but explicit gesture. “ It .”
(“I really wish,” Buck said mournfully in the background, unnoticed by anyone, “that I couldn’t hear every word of this conversation.”)
Finley’s mouth dropped open in appalled horror. “Archie!”
“Huh.” Estelle furrowed her brow. “I hate to say it, but Archie may have hit on something. That would explain it, all right.”
“ What would explain it?” Flora’s voice rose in frustration. “What are you all talking about?”
“Not so loud!” Estelle hissed, flashing a glance at Buck.
He gave no sign of having overheard, apparently engrossed in cleaning tools. An observant person might have noted that he was doing this with rather more noise than was strictly necessary.
Estelle was not that person. Satisfied, she turned back to Flora, lowering her voice. “Archie means that Buck and Honey still don’t have a full mate bond. They haven’t, you know, actually mated.”
“Ohhhh,” Flora said, enlightenment dawning across her face. Then she frowned. “But they’re always sneaking off together. We’ve seen them. They must have mated.”
Archie shrugged. “Well, maybe they’re doing it wrong.”
(“I am right here .”)
Rufus tapped the table, drawing everyone’s attention. He circled a finger in the air, indicating the whole table, then gestured at the door.
Finley shook his head emphatically. “I don’t think we should be talking about this at all.”
“But we have to talk about it!” Estelle whispered. “This would explain everything. Think about it, Finley.”
“I’d rather not,” Finley said fervently, under the increasingly loud, pointed humming coming from the back corner. “Can we please change the subject?”
“I think Archie may be right too,” Flora said slowly, as though working through a complex mathematical sum in her head. “Buck hasn’t been a shifter for long, after all. Maybe he doesn’t know how to mate.”
A loud clatter made them all jump. As one, they looked round guiltily. Buck glared at them over the pile of modeling tools he’d just dropped into the sink.
“That’s it,” Buck announced. He raised his voice. “Honey!”
She looked up from the pottery wheel. “Yes?”
“Hold the fort for a few minutes, will you?” Buck dried his hands on a rag. “I have to go find Leonie.”
Honey blinked at her co-counselor. “Whatever for?”
“Need to ask if she’s got a power drill I can borrow.” Buck swept the pack with an indiscriminate glare as he stalked past. “To insert into my ears.”
They all watched the door swing shut behind him.
Estelle gave voice to the thought running through every head. “He definitely doesn’t know how to mate.”
“ I could tell him,” Archie said.
Finley winced. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah.” Estelle rolled her eyes. “Like Buck’s going to listen to you, Archie. I bet you don’t even know how to mate.”
“I do too!” Archie said indignantly. “I know all about mating. He has to put his penis in her vagina. Then they sort of rub against each other until he squirts out sticky white stuff that glues them together. That’s what makes the mate bond.”
There was a long, thoughtful silence.
“Well that can’t be true,” Flora said at last.
“I, uh…” Finley cleared his throat. “From what I’ve read, it is, actually. In broad outline, at least.”
“But my moms are definitely real true full mates, with the telepathic bond and everything, and neither of them has a penis.” Flora paused, brow furrowing. “Unless you count the big rubber one that I’m not supposed to know is hidden in the drawer under the bed.”
“Rufus says,” Finley started, and then cut himself off. “Rufus! I’m not saying that!”
“What?” Flora and Archie asked together.
“You are such a prude sometimes, Finley.” Estelle turned to the others. “Rufus says, that’s just sex. Not mating.”
“But they’re the same thing,” Archie objected.
“I don’t think they are, actually,” Flora said thoughtfully. “Because people have sex all the time, and if that was all it took then everyone would be mated.”
“Yeah, but most people aren’t shifters,” Archie said. “Ordinary people can’t mate. It’s like, not biologically possible. Only shifter men can make the special mating glue in their penises.”
“For the last time, it’s nothing to do with penises, Archie!” Estelle said in exasperation. “Finley, you tell him. You read a lot. You must know if there’s a difference between sex and mating.”
From the longing glance Finley cast at the door, he was wishing he’d left with Buck.
“It’s not a topic I’ve extensively researched.
But I believe Flora and Rufus are correct.
From what I’ve gathered, there’s usually some kind of ritual element that has to be performed, above and beyond the, er, mere physical act. ”
Finley paused, looking round at the ring of blank faces. He sighed.
“I mean you don’t just do it,” he said testily. “It takes more than that to make a mate bond.”
“Like what?” Flora asked.
“That depends on the type of shifter.” Finley fell into a lecturing, somewhat pedantic cadence, looking a bit happier about being back in theoretical territory.
“Most dragons, for example, ceremonially gift their mate with the most precious items from their hoard. The Highland eagle clans of Scotland traditionally perform a mating flight, ascending as high as possible to prove their strength and fitness. Sharks, in contrast, seal the bond with a bite.”
“Sharks bite ?” Archie shuddered. “Wow. I really hope my mate isn’t a shark.”
“Same here,” Estelle agreed. “No offense, Finley.”
“It’s not just a shark thing,” Finley said, a touch defensively. “Many other types of shifter do it too. Wolves, hellhounds, tigers—even bears, Archie. It’s probably the most common way of consummating the mating ritual, in fact.”
Flora’s eyes were huge. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“I, uh… guess so?” Finley faltered, losing some of his scholarly poise. “I mean, the whole point is to leave a mating scar. That must take a pretty deep bite. Especially if the person being bitten is also a shifter.”
They all contemplated this.
“I,” Estelle said with utter certainty, “am never, ever getting mated.”
“Yeah, hard pass,” Archie said. He thumped himself on the chest. “No one’s biting this bear.”
“I’ve never heard anyone complain about it,” Finley said, though he didn’t sound at all certain about the whole business either. “And anyway, if your mate is human, then you’ll be the one doing the biting.”
“Ugh.” Archie pulled a face. “No way. That’s unhygienic.”
“You ate a worm on the hike yesterday,” Estelle said to him.
“Yeah, well, that’s different.” Archie folded his arms. “Worms are delicious. I bet girls taste gross .”
“Do you think that’s why Honey and Buck haven’t mated yet?” Flora asked. “He doesn’t know he needs to bite her?”
“That’s not the problem.”
The voice came from the table behind them. Ignatius sat there, alone, behind an untouched block of clay. They’d forgotten that he was within earshot. Normally, he made a point of ignoring them all.
Estelle glared at the dragon shifter. “Butt out, motherlover. This is a private conversation.”
“No, let him talk,” Finley said, ever the optimist. He’d given up approaching Ignatius, but he wasn’t about to turn down a rare opportunity to coax the surly dragon shifter out of his shell.
“Maybe Ignatius has seen something we’ve missed.
He’s always standing back and watching from the sidelines, after all. ”
A low growl rumbled in Rufus’s throat. He stared at Ignatius, eyes darkening to feral gold.
“He is part of this pack,” Finley insisted. “We should hear him out.”
“I dunno, Finley,” Flora said, eying Ignatius dubiously. “He’s probably just trying to get us into trouble. Why would he even care about Honey and Buck?”
“Like it or not—and I definitely don’t—I’m part of this pathetic pack,” Ignatius countered. “I’m just as concerned about our so-called counselors as you are.”
Rufus slapped the table with a sharp crack . Grabbing a sculpting knife, he scored rough, jagged lines across his clay: LYING
“You don’t need griffin eyes to see that, Rufus.” Estelle folded her arms across her chest. “The only thing this butthole cares about is finding an excuse to get out of camp.”
“It’s no secret that I would rather be anywhere else on the planet than this backwater hellhole,” Ignatius said coolly.
“And it’s true that I couldn’t care less about Honey and Buck’s private lives.
Given the choice, I would prefer not to even think about old people doing disgusting things to each other.
My interest in the matter is entirely personal.
It’s bad enough being stuck with you losers.
If I have to keep watching those two blunder around like lobotomized lobsters, I’m going to vomit. ”
The other children looked at each other, then to Rufus. He hesitated, hand hovering over the word he’d written. With clear reluctance, he added NOT above it—and then, in hurried, sprawling capitals underneath: BUT DON’T LISTEN TO HIM
“We should at least give him a chance, Rufus,” Finley said reasonably. “Sometimes it’s possible for people to work toward a common goal even when they have different motivations. And anyway, it’s not like we have a better idea. What’s on your mind, Ignatius?”
“You imbeciles are fixated on the wrong person.” Ignatius swept them with his customary disdainful stare, though there was a glitter of calculation in his eyes. “The problem isn’t Buck. It’s Honey.”