21. Helena
Helena
Helena’s shower was cold but refreshing. She needed a cold shower. Because of reasons.
Reasons that had nothing to do with how good it felt to wake up next to Bertram in her bed this morning.
Nothing to do with how badly she wanted to be back in bed with him, and to do things there other than cry and sleep.
Although, frankly, he was nice to cry to and sleep with, even when the latter was literal rather than a euphemism.
Helena was excited to see him at breakfast, considering the upward trajectory they were finally on.
“Pass me the coffee?” Helena asked, even though there was no coffee.
Bertram’s lips quirked, but he didn’t pretend to pour coffee for her as he had the night before. Nor did he so much as gift her with the smile with which he’d previously started to be more generous.
Helena pretended that her heart wasn’t sinking.
“No update on V-1’s necropsy yet,” Bertram said in lieu of pleasantries.
“But Mom did find a courier service willing to bring what we need all the way up into the mountains. All the blankets are en route, as well as supplies to build an owl-bear-sized candler. May even have same day delivery, if we’re lucky. ”
Helena’s stomach flipped, this time in excitement. The prospect of candling the egg to see if it was viable sounded both daunting and astounding. If candling confirmed that the egg held no life, it would be devastating.
But if things went the other way, the fact that they might soon have proof that there was a real, living baby owl-bear developing right next to them, that they could be the first People to witness an owl-bear hatch . . .
Helena cleared her throat. “If you need help building the candler—”
“I won’t,” he said at once, in a tone of voice that left no room for argument.
Helena flinched.
Bertram’s manner instantly softened. “That is—do you know anything about designing something like that? Or using power tools?”
“No. But I could learn—”
“It would be easier for me to do it myself than to teach you,” Bertram said, but at least his tone was somewhat apologetic. “But. Thank you. And I’ll let you know if I do. Need help.”
They finished breakfast in silence. Helena shot a text off to Dr. J, letting her know that she was happy to help with any of the paperwork, permissions, grants, or other filings.
Unlike power tools, Helena did know how to use a form.
Over the course of the day, Helena walked through the laboratory where the egg sat once, twice, three times.
“I really don’t think it’s going to spontaneously explode,” Bertram said, blocking her way before she could do her fourth sweep. “And even if it did, I’m not sure what you would do about it.”
“At least I would know,” Helena mumbled. It was a weak excuse, and she caught Bertram pacing too—he was also worried about the egg, whether he would admit it or not.
Late afternoon that same day a vague, high-pitched humming came through the air.
Helena looked up to see several large crates being dragged through the sky by a bright pink bicycle and its helmeted rider.
The bicycle came to a delicate landing on the ground in front of them.
“Delivery for Doctor de Narbon?” called a high, bright voice.
Helena pretended not to notice how Bertram bristled that it was Helena’s name being called and not his. If that annoyed him, then he was being a child. Bertram infamously hated showing ID that outed him as a count—it was only natural for Dr. J to put the delivery under Helena’s name.
Helena stepped forward. “I’m Doctor de Narbon.”
“Awesome!” the courier stepped off the bike and removed her helmet.
She was a tiny, slim woman, no taller than 4’10 or 4’11.
Her blond hair was cropped short, with purple bangs that hung long over her pointed ears.
Her winged eyeliner was on point, and so were her actual wings, and her overall vibe was so fucking cool that Helena wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss her or be her.
“Sign here for me?” the courier requested, extending a clipboard to Helena, The heading on it read “Merry Wanderer Courier Services.”
“I was surprised to get this order,” the courier continued.
“I pride myself on taking anything, anywhere, anytime—I’m the only service that delivers at this type of altitude—but even I’ve never been called to the middle of the Folio Mountains overnight.
Not only that, but with this much stuff—random stuff, too—plywood and blankets and pillows .
. .” She looked around. “Oh, are you building more tents? Is this going to be a campground now?”
“No,” Helena said. “We’re trying to do the opposite of that, actually . . .”
“What’s the opposite of building a campsite?” the courier asked.
“Preventing one from being built,” Helena said. “Or anything, really. It’s . . .”
Helena looked helplessly to Bertram, who took over explaining the situation: the presence of the owl-bear, the threat to her mountainous habitat that they were trying to stave off, and the owl-bear’s untimely fate.
“That makes more sense—I was wondering what someone would need an incubator the size of a motorcycle for.” The pixie flipped open the wooden trunk affixed to the back of her bike and pulled out a box that was impossibly larger than the box she was taking it out of.
“Guess that would be for the owl-bear egg.”
“Yes,” Helena said. Relief rushed through her body. Surely the incubator would do a much better job keeping the egg at a stable temperature than their various linens, even if they had sacrificed almost every single one of them to the egg.
“Poor little guy.” The courier shook her head.
“Hope you two are able to get your otherfolk crossing built. Seems like a safe way to navigate the roads is more than needed. And you’ll definitely have to make it law to get this territory protected—goodness knows, humans won’t stop doing something destructive just because it’s destructive.
No offense,” she added with a glance at Helena.
“Oh, it’s okay; I’m a humanoid being, really,” Helena said. “I’m one-quarter pixie.”
“Same!” The courier smiled. “I mean, the other three-quarters are also pixie. But one-quarter also is! I’m Diana, by the way. Diana Capilet.”
“Helena,” Helena said, shaking her hand. “But I guess you knew that. And this is—”
“Bertram,” he said, stepping forward with a slight bow. “The Count of Roussillon.”
Helena’s jaw almost dropped to the floor.
“Ooh la la,” said Diana.
Bertram smiled and shrugged with the same false humility Helena used when she talked about her various academic achievements.
Suddenly, she found that manner annoying.
“So, what?” Diana asked, twirling a strand of purple hair. “Do you, like, live in a castle?”
“No, no. I don’t have a castle.” Bertram pushed the very idea away with a relaxed wave of his hand. Then he grinned wickedly. “I have several castles.”
“Oh, wow,” said Diana.
Helena felt her instant affection for Diana waver.
“I don’t live in them though,” Bertram added. “I’m a magizoologist, so I travel around the world, conducting research on otherfolk, implementing programs to protect them from poachers, promoting conservation, rewilding habitats, all that good stuff.”
“I always have to be on the move, too,” Diana said.
“I was already doing a lot of gig work before the Great Merge, but my boss was kind of a temperamental dick, and I kept getting pulled into shit between him and his wife which was, like, honestly, so toxic looking back on it. But I liked the chaos of doing random tasks, so after the Great Merge I was just like, ‘fuck it, I’m done working for other People,’ and I thought about what I was good at, which is mostly flying around delivering things and helping People—and thus was Merry Wanderer born! ”
“Before the Great Merge?” Helena’s eyes widened. “How old are you?”
Diana laughed. “Older than I look. It’s a pixie thing.”
“You look great for your age, whatever age that may be,” said Bertram, leaning casually against the wall of the lab.
Helena saw Diana look Bertram up and down and up and down again. The way Bertram was leaning really showed off his forearms. And the bastard knew it too. He stared lazily past Diana, directly at Helena, and smiled sensuously. He winked at her before returning his focus to Diana.
Helena hated him.
“Tell me—” Bertram began, but Helena cut him off.
“Are you going to help me take the incubator to the lab?” Helena asked. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry it alone. And if the egg freezes under our sweaters because you were busy making friends . . .”
Bertram sighed. “Fair point.”
“Thank you for the delivery,” Helena said to Diana, sincerely. It was not Diana’s fault if Bertram decided to be a cad. “We really appreciate it; I’m sure it’s far out of your way.”
“I like the adventure.” Diana smiled. “Plus, it’s cool when I get to deliver stuff for actually cool projects and cool People. You guys seem like cool People.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Bertram smiled. “If Merry Wanderer is the only courier which delivers here, my guess is we’ll be seeing more of you. If you don’t mind, let me give you my number in case you need it for a delivery.”
“Sounds great,” said Diana.
“And hey, if you need my number for any other reason . . . receiving information on owl-bears, bestowing information on the best place to get drinks around here, I have no objections to that, either.”
“Okay!” Diana said cheerily, before continuing along her merry wandering way.
“Let’s get the incubator into the lab,” Helena said. “You take that end, and I’ll—”
“I got it,” Bertram said, easily.
“It’s really heavy—”
“And I’m really strong.” Bertram lifted the incubator effortlessly—alone—and started toward the lab.
Helena followed after him, huffing.
“Diana seems nice,” Bertram said, with a smirk that was a little too knowing for Helena’s liking.
“Why did you tell her you were a count?” Helena snapped, more harshly than she meant to. Not because Bertram didn’t deserve to be spoken to harshly, but because her tone might delude him into thinking she cared, and it was very important to Helena that Bertram know she did not care.
“I’m sorry, am I not a count?” Bertram asked, brow furrowed.
“And the part about the multiple castles?”
“Oh. That part was because I have multiple castles,” Bertram said, feigning innocence.
“It’s weird to bring it up unprompted,” Helena said.
“It wasn’t unprompted. She asked if I had a castle.”
“She asked if you lived in a castle, which you do not.”
“But that’s not unprompted,” Bertram argued. “The prompt was ‘talk about castles.’ ”
Helena threw her hands in the air, disgusted.
“Should I not be honest with People?” Bertram sounded genuinely puzzled, his face schooled into perfect neutrality. “Do you want me to lie to perfectly nice strangers?”
Helena brushed past Bertram and stormed away. Not because she was upset that he was flirting with another woman in front of her. He wasn’t her boyfriend—he had never actually been her boyfriend, and he certainly wasn’t now. He could flirt whenever he wanted.
And Helena could storm off whenever she wanted.
“Did you not want to help me move the egg into the incubator?” Bertram called after her.
Helena was forced to cancel her storm-off and double back to help set up the incubator and carefully move the egg in.
Because Bertram was kind of an asshole, but she wasn’t going to punish the egg for his bad behavior.
The incubator stood nearly two feet tall and was glass on three out of four sides.
The one opaque side had a panel with multiple setting options, including temperature and humidity.
Helena and Bertram squabbled back and forth a bit as to which species blueprint they should use as a comparison.
Ultimately, they decided that the greater eastern griffin had enough in common with what they knew of owl-bears that following the SDZMSP protocols for incubator use was as good a strategy as any.
Once the egg was safely tucked into a new blanket and the incubator had been calibrated to a temperature they hoped would be appropriate for the needs of a developing owl-bear egg and they waited to make sure that the incubator was heating up properly and Helena went and got some tea at one point and came back and saw that, yes, the incubator was still running at the appropriate temperature and seemed likely to continue to do so—
Then she stormed off.
Because she could storm off whenever she wanted, as long as it didn’t in any way, shape, or form jeopardize the potential for hatching a baby owl-bear.