13. Bertram
Bertram
By late evening, what had been a soft snowfall picked up into a full-blown storm.
It looked like it was on track to enter blizzard territory by nightfall.
Bertram returned to the lab before it got too cold and dark, shrugging off his outer layers as he entered.
He forced himself to log his day’s observations before he lost motivation.
Today was a whole lot of nothing on the owl-bear front, though he did get some excellent pictures of mundane birds for his personal collection, as well as some photos of an absolutely precious yojerboa scrub.
He had watched the tiny creature hop around on her long, thin jerboa legs before taking off on her yojoa scrub-hairstreak wings.
He was just showing these pictures to his mother when Helena walked in from the cold, nose red and stuffy, snowflakes clinging to her green coat and caught in her wavy black hair. But despite how obviously freezing she was, she looked ecstatically happy.
“I saw the owl-bear!” Helena shouted in a rush.
“Are you sure it was the owl-bear?” Bertram couldn’t help but ask. “It wasn’t another dragon?”
Helena rolled her eyes. “She was a meter away from me. It was definitely the owl-bear.”
“A meter?” Jennie’s eyes lit up with glee. “Truly? Did she spot you?”
“I don’t think so,” Helena said. “And I was able to hit her with the tracking spell. At least, I think I was! I’m pretty sure I was.”
Bertram swallowed.
His heart sunk, and he hated himself for it.
He knew what he was feeling was petty and ugly. It was jealousy. Sheer, all-encompassing jealousy.
He should be thrilled that the study was taking an exciting leap forward, that their focal animal had now been found and tagged. This should be a moment of great joy for him. And yet.
And yet.
He had sworn to his mother that he “would never let his historical interpersonal relationships interfere with the important work they were doing in the field.” Of course, he had made that promise without knowing the circumstances in which he was going to be expected to keep it.
But if that statement were true—and he liked to think it was—then it shouldn’t matter who showed up or what history he had with them.
It should be true for any Person. Bertram should be able to put his work in the field above any interpersonal relationship of any kind.
So, he should be happy that Helena had tagged the owl-bear.
Bertram tried not to begrudge her this victory—after all, Helena was nothing but enthusiastic and supportive when Bertram first found the feather. Could Bertram not extend the same genuine excitement to her?
The answer appeared to be “no.”
Jennie pulled up the MagiTracks software and typed the tag code of the tracking spell Helena had discharged. Helena rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as she waited for Jennie’s search to complete. She was almost vibrating with excitement.
“Nothing so far,” Jennie said, and Bertram felt a sickening mix of satisfaction and disappointment.
Was that who he was now? So bitter and resentful that he would rather his own study fail than see Helena have even a small moment of happiness?
He was better than that, surely.
“I’m pretty sure I hit her,” Helena mumbled.
“Just because the spell isn’t trackable yet doesn’t mean it failed,” Jennie said, reassuringly. “It may not have sunk all the way into her skin yet, or it may still be connecting to the network.”
Helena nodded but bit her lip. Then she leaned forward and hit “refresh” on Jennie’s search.
No new results were found.
Helena let out an unsteady breath.
After a moment, she hit the “enter” key and began the search again. Nothing came up. She reached for the keyboard again—
“You know, Helena,” Jennie said gently, “you don’t need to hover. You can relax while we wait for the software to catch up.”
“No, I think you should keep refreshing.” Bertram leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “That should make it go faster.”
Helena shot him a nasty look.
“What?” Bertram said, innocently. “I’m telling you that you’re right!”
“Call me if the tracking spell goes live,” Dr. J said. “I’ll be rejuvenating in my tent.”
Helena stared at the computer, foot tapping. She started to reach toward the keyboard—then stopped herself. She let her hand stay by her side, fingers drumming away on her curvy thighs. Then she started to reach toward the keyboard again, clearly torn, biting her lip—
Bertram’s pettiness and jealousy softened.
Helena caught Bertram watching her with interest and blushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Bertram shook his head. “It’s okay. If you weren’t over there refreshing every two minutes, I’m sure I would be.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Helena said with a smile. “You’ve always been way more patient than I am.”
“True,” Bertram admitted. “But still.”
“Still what?”
“I’m happy that we’ve tagged our first specimen. That you tagged our first specimen,” Bertram added, and was quietly pleased with himself for being so magnanimous and mature.
“We don’t even know if it took,” Helena said.
“Hey.” Bertram looked Helena square in the eyes. “Even if it didn’t. You saw an owl-bear right in front of your eyes. You know definitively a spot where she finds resources. That’s the biggest break we’ve had on this project so far. And you did that.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Helena seemed flustered.
There was a moment of silence.
“Was it amazing?” Bertram asked, because he couldn’t help it. “Seeing an owl-bear in Person?”
“It was magical,” Helena admitted. “She was just so . . . big and strong and calm and powerful and still and just . . . there. She was just there!”
Her face flushed with excitement, her smile so genuine and radiant that it was easy for Bertram to remember how he had fallen in love with her.
“I’m sure you’ll see her soon,” Helena said.
“You don’t know that,” Bertram said.
“If she was tagged successfully, you will,” Helena said, cheerily. “Plus, I like being optimistic.”
“You’re optimistic?” Bertram raised an eyebrow.
“Not often,” Helena admitted. “But I said I like being optimistic.”
There was another moment of silence.
Bertram stood and started to leave—
“Would you pass the coffee?” Helena asked.
Bertram turned and looked at her quizzically. “There’s no coffee.”
Helena shrugged.
Bertram furrowed his brow. “Are you asking me to go over to the OmniBox, get coffee, and brew you a pot? Are you suddenly incapable of doing that yourself?”
“No,” Helena said, softly. “It’s just—that first night, you promised you would talk to me if I asked you to pass the coffee.”
Bertram’s heart melted. “Oh. Then. In that case . . . here.”
Feeling somewhat foolish, Bertram mimed pouring a mug of coffee and handing it to Helena.
Helena smiled, almost shyly.
“What did you want to talk about?” Bertram asked.
“Anything. You were being, you know, nice and I just didn’t want to lose—” Helena cleared her throat. “Do you still follow sports? You can talk to me about sports.”
“The Klipspringers won the Super Bowl this year,” Bertram said, “after not winning since 10 BGM. They added melon ball to the Olympics. Oh, and the Coatimundis moved from the West Coast to the Midwest. They have a new coach, a kappa, which should be interesting since their new homebase is landlocked.”
“Oh, that’s awesome!” Helena said.
Bertram smirked, and Helena’s smile flickered slightly.
“Was any of that true?” Helena asked.
Bertram shrugged. “How’s the coffee?”
“Delicious!” Helena mimed taking another sip.
“A kappa really is coaching the Coatimundis now, but they’re a soccer team,” Bertram said. “There’s no melon ball, but even if there were, I don’t think they would add it to the Olympics.”
“And the Klipspringers?” Helena asked.
“Not a team.”
“They should be,” Helena said. “Athletes should be so lucky to have the agility of a klipspringer.”
“You should start a petition,” Bertram suggested. “See if you can get a team to change their name—”
The computer beeped.
Helena wheeled her chair around so fast that if her invisible coffee were real, it would have spilled everywhere and scalded them both.
“Careful, Hel, you’ll give yourself whiplash.”
“Bertram!” Helena practically squeaked. “Bertram, it’s live. Oh my God, the tracking spell is live!”
Bertram peered over her shoulder at the MagiTracks software map, where “Spell SSLTTS135902” now appeared on the map as a red dot.
“Hooooly shit,” Helena whispered.
Bertram smiled. “There’s our girl.”
Helena right-clicked the red dot and changed the label from “SSLTTS135902” to “V-1.”
“If I’m wrong, we’ll change it later,” Helena said. “I’m just doing the optimism thing again.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Bertram’s mouth. Seeing Helena at least try to be hopeful rather than an anxious wreck was rare . . . and endearing.
If she could hope for a successful tracking spell, maybe he could hope for a better relationship for the two of them. Especially now that the owl-bear was officially tagged. This would launch the study into an exciting new phase altogether.
It would be helpful for everyone—owl-bear included—if the scientists were all on the same team. And it was easy—terrifyingly easy—to want to be on Helena’s team. Especially in moments like these, when Helena’s infectious enthusiasm and genuine love of magical creatures was on full display.
Helena zoomed in as far as she could, and the two of them watched together as the dot that presumably represented V-1 moved along the base of the mountains.
“Look at her go!” Helena squealed.
“It’s amazing,” Bertram said.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it!” Helena beamed. “I know the study started weeks ago, but it feels like it’s finally starting, you know?”
“Great work, Helena.” Bertram smiled. “Really.”
“Of course, I couldn’t have done it without you. You were still the one who found the first feather.”
Bertram waved this away. “It was just a feather.”
“It was our first sign that she was here, that she was really here. That matters.”
“It’s not a competition,” Bertram said.
Helena smiled. “Isn’t it always?”
Bertram snorted. She had a point.
“In this case,” Bertram said, “as long as we successfully learn about owl-bears and use that info to keep them safe, I think we’ve all won.”
“Especially the owl-bear,” Helena agreed. “Dr. J should be there for this—do you want to grab her, or should I?”
“I’ll do it,” Bertram said. Given how anxious Helena had been waiting for the spell to go live, the least he could do was let her enjoy it now that it was. She smiled gratefully, and he felt validated in this choice.
Which was dangerous, a quiet voice tried to remind Bertram. He should not be feeling validated by Helena’s smile. This was trouble.
But he had little time to dwell on this—it took him almost no time at all to reach his mother’s tent and inform her that the tracking spell had indeed gone live. Jennie practically tripped out of her tent when Bertram gave her the good news, and she and Bertram all but ran back to the lab.
“Where is she?” Jennie asked, excitedly.
But when Helena turned, her face was unexpectedly grim.
“She was moving around the base of the mountain,” Helena said. “I assume walking, since she probably can’t fly long distances, but then . . . well, the dot stopped moving.”
Bertram didn’t like how concerned Helena looked.
“We still don’t really know if they’re diurnal or nocturnal,” Bertram said. “She could be sleeping. Or stopping for a rest. Or stopping for dinner!”
“I know,” Helena said. “It’s just . . . it looks like the dot is on the 394 freeway. And there’s a reason why that’s where we want to build the crossing.”
“You think she might have been injured?” Jennie asked.
Helena nodded, eyes full of worry. “I know she may be safely up a tree, waiting for prey to pass by. Plus, we’re just starting to use the map, so we don’t know exactly how scale works or how precise that location is.
Or it could be that the connection is lagging and the screen is frozen and she’s already moved on and in a second her location is going to jump forward.
There could be a hundred different explanations and V-1 is just fine, but”—Helena swallowed—“but what if she isn’t?
Shouldn’t we at least go check? The worst thing that happens is we go down to the freeway and don’t see her. ”
“No,” Bertram said, “the worst thing that happens is we try to make it down a mountain in the dark during a snowstorm and sustain serious injuries.”
“But she could be injured!” Helena protested.
“Fine,” Bertram said. “Mom and I will go; you stay here.”
“What?!” Helena exclaimed.
“You’re human—”
“Mostly human,” said Helena. “I promise I won’t slow you down.”
“It’s not about that,” Bertram said, frustrated. “You have thin skin, you can’t see in the dark.”
“So, I’ll wear my snow coat and bring a flashlight! You’re not leaving me here.”
“We’ll go check it out,” Jennie said, definitively. “All of us.”
The three threw their snow gear back on, grabbed lanterns, and began their descent down the mountain through the forest.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Helena said, breaking their tense silence. “Like you said—she could just be asleep for the night right near the freeway, and I’m going to feel like a total asshole for making everyone tromp through a snowstorm if we don’t even get an owl-bear sighting out of it.”
But Bertram could see the fear in her eyes. He wanted to take her hand, to comfort her. To pull her to him and keep her warm and safe from this snowstorm, and from the worst of her catastrophizing.
Helena kept glancing at her phone, where she had the MagiTracks mobile app pulled up.
“Any movement?” Jennie asked as they neared the edge of the forest.
“None,” Helena shouted over the sound of the wind, “but maybe it’s the signal in the snowstorm—”
Bertram and Jennie stopped at the exact same time.
“What is it?” Helena asked.
Bertram and his mother exchanged dark looks. It seemed each waited for the other to speak.
“Blood,” Bertram finally said. “We can smell blood.”
“Then run,” said Helena.