“I’ve heard that before,” David said.
“Yeah,” Sal said. “I bet you have. Difference is, it’s true here. You don’t have to trust anything I’m saying.” He laughed. “Hell, I wouldn’t if I were you. But you’ll believe soon enough.”
David stared up at Sal and Theodore. He turned his head to look at the rest of them, starting with Lucy, who wiggled his fingers in a wave, and ending on Arthur, who smiled. David then took in the rest of the room: the late afternoon sunlight dappling the floor, the clean walls, the bed, the wardrobe, the drawers, even the rug. “Can I decorate however I want?”
“You can,” Arthur said. “This is your space, David. Make it look however you wish.”
David nodded and took in his new room in wonder.
It was a little past midnight when the bedroom door creaked open. Linus grumbled as a smallish garden gnome climbed onto the bed, settling between them and smacking her lips.
Ten minutes later, the door opened again, and a forest sprite made her way in. She lay next to Arthur, her head on his pillow.
Four minutes after that, the closet door opened and a devilish voice cried, “You’re having a sleepover and you didn’t invite me? Oh my heck, what is wrong with all of you?” Linus grunted as a little boy jumped on top of him, all knees and elbows.
It wasn’t long before a green blob appeared. Flattening himself until he was as thin as a piece of paper, he spread himself on top of them, eye stalks resting on Arthur’s chest. It wasn’t unpleasant; it felt as if they lay under a blanket made of non-sticky jam.
Of course, that meant no one wanted to be left out, and two more figures appeared: one tall, wearing ratty sleep shorts and a tank top; the other blinked sleepily with reptilian eyes. The tall boy stretched out next to a welcoming cat along the width of the bed, which was big enough to keep his feet from dangling off the edge. The wyvern lay on top of him, head curled against his body. The cat licked the boy’s cheek once and closed her eyes.
Arthur was on the cusp of sleep—warm and smothered, a quiet smile on his face—when Talia shot up next to him and yelled, “We didn’t get our presents!”
Linus groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “It’s time for quiet.”
“Arthur,” Chauncey whispered. “Psst. Arthur. Are you sleeping?”
“No, Chauncey.”
“Fun! Neither am I. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, Chauncey.”
“Oh, good. Thank you. Why do you have a ring on your finger?”
No one got much sleep after that.
EIGHT
Two days later—a Friday morning just after ten—Arthur sat in his office, towers of books leaning precariously around him. Before him, paperwork, everything Jason and Byron had on David, though it didn’t amount to much: his schooling records (not too far behind where they were on Marsyas, thankfully), and a couple of notes about how inquisitive he was, after he got over his initial reticence. To be fair, Arthur hadn’t expected more, given that David had been moved in secrecy.
But it was the old newspaper clipping that captured Arthur’s attention. Near the back, attached to a picture of David—blurry, the boy looking frightened—the article was short and without much detail. Three big-game hunters were facing charges after stalking a family of magical creatures for days through a frozen tundra. Given that it was illegal to hunt beings capable of “humanlike thought”—so named in the We Care Law (passed two decades before in a close vote)—the hunters were facing a prison term of up to three years, and fines totaling a thousand pounds. Their crime?
They had killed two adult yetis.
Arthur closed the file, tapping his fingers against the folder.
“Is that about me?” David asked a few minutes later, arriving in Arthur’s office right on time. He slumped into the chair on the other side of the desk, arms folded across his chest, his thick hair sleeker than usual. Talia had given him some of her beard soaps as she was of the mind that everyone with body hair should have only the very best.
“It is,” Arthur said. “It’s one of the reasons I invited you here today. I could make assumptions based upon what I’ve read, but in my experience, files such as this don’t always paint a full picture. I’d rather hear it directly from the source.”
“Me,” David said, sounding as if he’d rather be anywhere but where he was.
“Precisely,” Arthur said, sitting back in his chair. “Yesterday was your first full day here. How did it go?”
David shrugged.
Arthur wasn’t to be deterred. “The children took you on a tour of the house. Did you see anything you have questions about?”
David shook his head.
“Good,” Arthur said. “Should anything arise, ask.”
David sank lower in his seat, to the point where only his head lay against the back of the chair, resting at a sharp angle. Not a puddle, but it could easily go that direction.
“Up, please,” Arthur said, wanting to test him just a little. “Posture is important. We do not slump in chairs.”
David muttered under his breath as he pushed himself back up, glaring at Arthur. Once he was using the chair for its intended purpose, he said, “No one cares about how I sit in a chair.”
“I do,” Arthur said. “Thank you. Now, about—”
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
Arthur tilted his head in acknowledgment. “The thought has never crossed my mind.”
David eyed the papers on Arthur’s desk with disdain. “Whatever it says in there, it’s not my fault. I tried to do school stuff, but…” A fierce glower. “Whatever.”
Ah, Arthur thought. “You are a bit behind where we currently are. But,” he said as David opened his mouth, “that’s to be expected. You have been in upheaval for so long now, of course it would be difficult to keep up with your schooling.”
“B helped,” David mumbled. “They were good at it.”
