Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
Liam smiled shyly at Iona and stood to clear both of their plates.
While he was in the kitchen cleaning up, Iona took a moment to drift about the house, sating her curiosity for the collection of items within it.
Her attention was first drawn to a stack of sketchbooks, many of which she recognized as once belonging to Liam.
She flipped one open, revealing a page of sketches filled with renderings of a squirrel in different poses and angles. In one depiction, the squirrel perched upon a maple branch, nibbling at something clutched within both of its little hands. In another, the squirrel was climbing up the thick trunk of a Douglas fir, tiny fingers clutching tight to the ridges of the bark. Their accuracy and quality was impressive, based on the thousands of hours she’d watched him study the critters that crawled among her branches.
Along the margins, Liam had scratched out notes on the proper name of the animal, its dietary habits and habitat preferences. The drive of human nature to quantify the world around them made Iona smile. The squirrel Liam had drawn did not know its name. It simply existed, scurrying about, looking for food and safety .
The sketchbook beneath it fell open to a page bookmarked with a pressed maple leaf, as wide as the page itself. The leaf was perfect, untouched by time, frozen in the burnt orange of the autumn. She ran a finger over the veins and stem that ran though it, so much like the veins of all living things. Then her breath caught.
There, on the page, was a sketch of the maple tree—her maple.
She snatched her hand back, her face going hot again. Her tree, with its long and reaching branches, its solid trunk and crown of golden leaves, had been transcribed lovingly onto the page. It felt oddly intimate, like something she hadn’t been meant to see.
The water in the kitchen shut off and Liam’s footsteps approached. She snapped the sketchbook closed.
Beside the sketchbooks there was another stack of colorful prints in a strange square shape. Iona had never seen them before, and she realized just how little of their existence she knew much about.
“What are these?” she asked Liam, who now stood beside her.
“They’re records, my mom’s old collection. There’s some good stuff in here,” he said, and a smile spread across his lips. “I’ll show you.”
He grabbed a record from the stack, then approached the narrow table pressed up against the wall, cluttered with other things Iona did not recognize. He lifted a clear cover off one of the machines, and pulled a record from the paper sleeve. The record spun, and a moment later music poured from it. The sound was sweet to Iona’s unschooled ears.
“It’s Tom Petty, one of my mom’s favorites.” He spoke as if Iona should know the name, but it didn’t much matter. His joy as he spoke of his mother was enough to convey how special it was to him. The song built, the singers voice pleasantly nasally, and Iona found herself smiling along with him.
“More wine?” he asked.
Iona knew the purpose for their visit was over with, no more business to discuss. But she was endlessly fascinated by the boy, learning so much about the humans and the things they valued, she couldn’t say no.
He refilled their cups, then sat comfortably on the couch, kicking his heels up onto the coffee table. He’d cleared it of boxes and stacked blankets since she’d been in the house last, so the length of the couch was unobstructed. Iona moved closer, sitting near him.
A log in the wood stove crackled, and the warmth of the fire and the wine brought a heat to Iona’s face. It was a pleasant sort of feeling, and one that made her bold.
“You speak of your parents often,” she observed. “They must be very dear to you.” The Acernae did not have parents, and it was difficult for her to envision what those ties of family must be like.
Liam thought for a moment, his gaze on the fire. When he spoke, his voice rang with admiration.
“My father is a stubborn man, always trying to take care of everyone. He’s having a real hard time relaxing, now that we can all take care of ourselves.” He smiled, eyes glazed over with memories. “My mom is so full of life and love—friends with everyone. She kept the garden, out back. It looks pretty dead now, but it used to be beautiful.”
He stood, digging through a nearby stack of photos, and handing one to Iona. It was a young couple—Liam’s parents in their youth. Age had faded the image, but the details were clear enough.
The man was well built and rugged, wearing simple work wear and thick glasses. Beneath them was a serious expression, but with the same kind and crinkled eyes Iona recognized in Liam. The woman was petite, with reddish hair blowing across her face and a glowing smile. They stood posed together atop a beautiful ridge with snowcapped mountains in the background, his arms wrapped lovingly around her, and a look of deep affection between them.
“They look happy,” she murmured. “How did they meet?”
Liam chuckled, setting the photo down on the stack. “My mom worked at the bar, not far from here. She’d been living out here her whole life. My dad came here in the eighties to work at one of the fish hatcheries on a temporary job. But then they met, and he never left.”
“She’s beautiful, I can see why he stayed.”
“My mom loves music, and taught me how to play the guitar when I was little. This belongs to her. I’m going to bring it when I head back into town.” He pulled a the instrument from behind another stack. He brought it closer, setting it on the coffee table in front of her .
Iona’s eyes widened as recognized the hum of magic pulsing from it. As soon as she touched it, she knew it was maple created by one of her kin. She tilted her head to the side, trying to identify it.
“This was your mothers?” she asked.
Liam nodded.
“This was created by one of the Acernae. I can sense it.”
“You think so?” A curious look crossed his face. He looked at the guitar a moment, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t think my mom had met any of the Acernae. At least, she never mentioned it to me.”
There was another way the woman might have acquired an instrument imbued with the Acernae’s magic, but Iona did not think Liam would take kindly to the accusation. Regardless, she would have known if a such gruesome a fate had befallen one of her own, so she cast the thought aside.
Iona changed the subject to one she hoped was lighter. “Can you play, then?”
Liam blushed again, and the effect was so charming it made her chest tight. “Oh no, I’m terrible, actually. I picked it up alright, but abandoned it early into school, when I realized it was taking time away from my studies.”
Then he leaned back, staring into the flames of the fire and falling silent for a long moment.
“Like your drawings?” she asked gently.
His eyebrows rose. “I’m not surprised you remember, I guess you were there... I haven’t drawn anything in a while.” When he spoke next, his words were heavy and his voice was low. “I spent a lot of time outside when I was a kid. But then I realized, like Rebecca did, that we weren’t very well off. My parents never went to school and they worked hard to scape by. I always told myself I’d strive for more. Be successful. You know?”
When he finished speaking, he took a deep drink from his own cup while Iona struggled to find the right words.
“I won’t claim to understand, since my own existence is so different—but is this place not enough?”
“I guess you wouldn’t understand that part.” He gave her a wry look. “I love this house, and the property, but it isn’t much, by human standards. Even my apartment in Ballard is bigger than this place. Besides, things cost money. I like my work in the lab, and it pays well. There’s nothing out here for me.”
Iona tried to smile at him, despite the sting of his words. She leaned forward to rest a reassuring hand on his uninjured leg. His frame was not large, but he had strong legs, and the touch brought a strange heat to Iona’s cheeks.
“You are more than your job, Liam. More than the things you own, and the dwelling in which you live.” Then her smile faltered. “At least, I hope so. Otherwise I have very little, it seems.”
His eyes widened as they snapped up to meet hers. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit, I’m not good at this, sorry. I just mean that you have to… have certain things. The right things. Otherwise people—humans, can be pretty nasty.”
“It’s alright, I understand. What little I know of your ways comes from my observations or from the books I’ve collected. But I am no fool, I know our lives are simple. That doesn’t mean that they are less fulfilling.”
As soon as she’d finished the sentence, the music stopped, and a heavy quiet settled on the room, breaking the spell between them. Iona pulled back her hand, and leaned away to put more space between them.
“I’m sorry, to burden you with all this,” he said, before snapping back to himself. “I’ll go flip the record.”
***
Liam cursed himself silently as he crossed the room. Why was he sharing such things with this near stranger, anyway? He winced while his back was turned, embarrassment rolling through him. Something about her made him fumble his words.
He took his time pulling the record out, flipping it over to the B-side, and used the moment to collect himself. The wine had loosened his lips, and the ghost of her touch lingered on his leg, sending heat through his core.
As the evening had worn on, their business concluded, there was little excuse for her to stay. Not that he wanted her to leave… but he couldn’t seem to think of what he really wanted. She was throwing him off balance. If watching her try to eat the pasta with her uncoordinated moves wasn’t enough, then her kindness when he spoke of his life endeared her to him further .
His loneliness was beginning to take its toll. He’d forgotten that this was not , in fact, a date. Never mind the fact that Iona was gorgeous, just a little scary, and almost precisely Liam’s type.
He was leaving, and she was… well, not even human.
Once he’d pulled himself together, he eased the needle back down and turned to join her again on the couch.
“Why do you not pursue art? Your drawings are incredible,” she asked, picking the conversation back up easily.
It wasn’t the first time someone had brought this up. He usually got annoyed when people suggested it. Sure, he was good at it, but there was no money to be made in the arts, a hard fact he’d learned long ago.
He opened his mouth to tell her just that, but they were both startled by a flash of lights from the window, as a car pulled up to the house.
Iona’s eyes widened for a moment, before she vanished without another word.
***
Liam had forgotten it was Friday, and Annie and Zev had promised to help him with the house over the weekend. It felt like ages ago, and their arrival caught him off guard. Zev and Annie were huddled close on the small porch, their breath drifting up towards the dim light, visible in the cold air.
“Hey,” he greeted them, holding open the door for them to come inside. His voice was pitched too high, and he was still reeling from the sudden shift in mood.
“I tried to call and give you a heads up, but your phone was off.” Annie said, her husky voice a sharp contrast from Iona’s silvery one.
“Yeah—sorry. I guess I was really in the zone.” He gestured at the mess of boxes and junk stacked about the room. “I kinda forgot you guys were coming.”
“Don’t worry, the reinforcements have arrived!” Zev announced, and stalked forwards to take in the state of the place, eyebrows furrowed at what they saw. “Looks like you could use the help, man. You’ve barely made a dent.”
Liam’s hand raked through his hair. “I, uh, have been a little distracted. ”
That was an understatement, and it was true that he really needed the help.
“Okay, okay. We can work with this,” Zev said, unperturbed, and wasted no time instilling order in the chaos. Liam met Zev in college, and they’d become instant friends. Zev’s no-nonsense approach helped balance out the chaos that seemed to follow Liam, and the differences between them complimented one another. Though Zev had changed much about the way they presented themselves to the world, that fact had remained the same. “It’s a sweet place though. I didn’t realize you literally lived in the rain forest,” Zev said, admiring the home Liam had been so ashamed of growing up. “You sure you want to sell it?”
Liam thought again of his embarrassment as a child, never inviting anyone over—it was a habit he seemed to have carried into adulthood. Zev, for their part, seemed thrilled. But Liam had to keep from rolling his eyes. Of course they loved it, the old cabin was exactly the kind of thrifty, self-sufficient place that Zev would want for themselves.
Annie flipped on the overhead light, which had been off while Liam and Iona had been talking. Liam stood awkwardly, struggling to adjust to the abrupt change in his evening. Maybe it was for the best. Too much time had been wasted already, and Zev was right about the state of the house—there was so much left to do, and his time was running out.
“Garbage bags?” Zev asked.
“In the kitchen,” Liam answered with a sharp motion of his chin.
Zev trotted off to arm themselves with the tools of war, and left Annie and Liam in the living room alone.
It was strange, after nearly a decade, to see her standing in the living room of his childhood home where they had basically grown up together. Liam was flooded by memories of Annie as a little girl, running circles around the coffee table, chasing him round and round until they were both so dizzy they fell over on the worn carpet. Liam knew, from her own wistful expression as she looked around the room that she was thinking the same thing. It seemed a world away from where there were now.
Annie was part native. Her father had been a member of the Quinault Indian Nation, which was just down the road. She owed him for her complexion, the striking beauty of it, and her long dark hair. Even now, weary from traveling and dressed for housework it was clear she was quite pretty, if in a very different way than Iona.
“It’s sad,” she said, rousing Liam from his thoughts, “to say goodbye to this place.”
“Yeah, I know,” he told her, and found, surprisingly, that he meant more than he had a few days ago.
Annie continued gazing about the the room.
Liam saw the exact moment when she noticed the tin cups filled with wine—the two of them, sitting half-drunk on the coffee table. How strange it must look. Her eyes narrowed, flicking to the record which had since stopped spinning, then up to meet Liam. “There was someone here?” she asked. Her tone was not accusatory, but it was curious.
“Uh…” he searched for a good explanation. Not ready to tell the others about Iona, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I poured one, then forgot about it and grabbed another.”
The lie fell flat, but Annie didn’t push it any further as Zev marched back over and set them both to work.
“Thank you both for helping. I’m kinda drowning out here,” Liam said, relieved at the interruption but genuinely thankful.
“No worries, man,” Zev replied. “Besides, we figured it might be our only chance to spend some actual time with you, our little workaholic.”
Liam rolled his eyes.
Over the next few hours, the three of them made more progress than Liam had in the past few days. Maybe he could pull off getting the house ready to sell after all.
The thought made something in his stomach twist, though he couldn’t put a finger on why.