Page 34 of Old Secrets

“You are perfect as you are, alive and well.” My mother eyed Jake, and after a moment, she smirked. “It seems you enjoy your wolf’s company as well.”

Jake coughed, and I grinned at the strained sound. “We have some questions about my species, as we are hesitant to have children without knowing if I can shift or anything like that.”

“I shifted daily with you for the first thirteen months of pregnancy.”

My eyes widened. “The first thirteen months of pregnancy?”

How long had her pregnancy been? How had she survived at least thirteen months?

“Right. Humans only are pregnant for a few months. Eight?” She stared at my father, who shrugged. “Something like that.”

“It’s technically nine, with two weeks prior to conception counting as part of the time period. They count the months based on the start of a woman’s cycle,” Mellisa said, coming to our rescue. “We had concerns, especially as Karma had an unborn twin surgically removed from her side.”

Both of my parents made a gesture, which concluded with them pressing their palm to the center of their chest, and they bowed their heads.

My mother recovered first. “Our litters always lose one or two of the kits.”

My father sighed, went to my mother, and rested his hand on her shoulder. “We are the last of our kind who can even try for litters. The other pairs lose all of the litters, because we are not…”

With a sickening feeling in my chest, I realized that they implied I was inbred in some fashion, although I’d learned enough from my genetic testing to have suspected that was the case.

“Diverse,” I supplied. “You’re too closely related.”

“Yes and no. Your father and I were brought into the world long ago, when our lines were varied. But we are, well, still very similar even though we do not share parentage. I came from the clan of the land, he came from the clan of the sea. To form an alliance, we were joined for all eternity, destined to bring children into the world. But, yes. Everyone else is more closely related, and as such, they are not compatible. There are no more clans, no more diversity, no more meetings of magic. They killed off as many as they could until only we remained along with a scattering of children of the same clan, too closely related to have a hope of children.”

I read between the lines; the killers had come, time and time again, and killed their children, crumbling their hopes for the future at the same time.

“Who are they? What name do you know them by?” I asked. “We call them the Greenwich Group.”

“They call themselves Yamāntaka, after an old god. They seek to destroy death, obtaining eternal life for themselves while devouring the world and controlling it for their purposes. They are an abomination. They wish to use us as a front for the people they wish to control—to present us as the proof of eternal youth.” My mother’s eyes turned hard. “They are not wrong, but we do not live to control or to defy death. We saw when the world was young, we witnessed the rise of early man and how they fell, only to rise again to become humanity. For your sake, I hope your wolf is long-lived, for you endure long beyond mortal man.”

“Fenerec can live for thousands of years,” Jake stated, and something about his subdued tone bothered me. “But we are rarely stable for that long. We do not die from aging, although we can be killed.”

“Much like us, then. Perhaps you are the Earth’s gift to my daughter, so that when we came from our mountains after so long, she would have a place.” After a moment, my mother nodded her satisfaction. “The land sings that you are here with her. The seas?” she asked my father.

“The seas are calm.”

I wondered what that meant, but the answer seemed to satisfy my mother. While I had questions, I maintained my silence.

It would take longer than we had for me to work through the turbulent emotions to figure out which one to ask first. Who was I?

No. What was I? What manner of beings had hidden in the mountains of Tibet for hundreds upon hundreds of years, unseen by humanity?

My people, my kind as my mother phrased it, seemed to be an old secret, ancient before mankind had taken their first steps.

Aiko approached and bowed before saying, “We have prepared a place where you can be purified, change your clothes, and enjoy a meal. Please allow us the honor of handling the rest of the details here.”

“The ash and bones should be placed within a wooden box, warded with your most potent of charms, and left upon a beach within distance of the high tide,” my mother instructed. “You honor us.”

“And you honor us,” Aiko replied, and the miko began the process of gathering what remained of the five men. “You have given us hope of a future with peace, and there is no way to repay that.”

“And you have given us a future with our child,” my mother replied. “I am certain we are equal to the mutual burdens we will carry for as long as we draw breath. This burden will not be a difficult one, shouldered with joy rather than remorse.”

I understood, then, the significance of Aiko’s bow.

There were no words capable of conveying the woman’s depth of gratitude.

Jake fascinated my father. Then, after a comment from my mother, I realized he’d been the sole giant of his people, finally meeting someone he could look in the eyes without lowering his head. Once we reached the estate, owned by a member of the Inquisition, both men became their animals, posturing for each other.