Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 57
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Mama had harped on me to say it. When the words came out, sounded about as idjiotic as I expected. And received doubly badly, by the expression on Ezra’s face.

Think the emotional shift from Ezra got Kriz’ attention.

“Why in the gods would I be upset about puttin’ that fool down?” Ezra hissed, fists movin’ to her hips. When Mama’s fists go to her hips, I’ve worried for my life.

She once said, with her fists on her hips, she pumped out four pups. She could pump out a fifth to replace me.

“After what he did to Thomas?” I didn’t know her voice could rise to a shrill. “And he was there to kill me.”

I cleared my throat. “Exactly. Mama didn’t want ya over thinkin’, ya know.”

“Blame it on yar mama. That’s yar excuse for blatherin’ such blather?” she asked.

Her fists hadn’t dropped from her hips yet, so I kept my mouth shut. Could feel my eyes rounded in my head. Tried to relax em, but they wouldn’t respond. Shoot. I was worryin’ my right tusk.

“What—he wants—to say,” Kriz said softly. “Is thank—ya—for bringin’—all this—good food.” His hand waved across the conference table, as though Ezra wouldn’t know what food he was talkin’ about. Fool.

David laughed. Laughed even harder when Ezra turned her eyes on him. Didn’t he realize the hen had killed a bruiser of an ogre with her bare hands—mostly bare hands. Imagine what she could do to an itty bitty human.

~ Ezra ~

Have no clue why I carted up a hundred pounds of food, and dragged it to OW. For the aggravation, I spose. What with all the tippy toein’ goin’ on. Bulls fearin’ us hens, for the most part, is a good thing. But it can make em lean less honest.

But my cousins, and that fool, would last another few hours with the food I got em. Been told they’ve been sleepin’ on cots in their offices, survivin’ on a couple hours of sleep a day and strong tea. They’re idjits with sleep, imagine em without. And ogres can’t survive on pizza. Even an Ogre Beef Pizza. That’s pretty much all that gets delivered in the Valley. Maybe I’ll open my own Ogre Tray delivery service. Like I’d ever choose not to work side by side with Zarade. She might be fifty years my senior, but she’s my only friend—that I’m not related to.

Gettin’ my containers stowed, I slammed the passenger door hard. Harder than I meant. Think the front glass threatened to pop out. I needed to do a bit of ventin’, but didn’t intend to do vital harm to my poor, old truck—reminded me she’d need a new set of knobby tires before the snows come.

I stood a second in silence with my eyes closed, workin’ at releasin’ some pressure in my shoulders. Not good to drive when ya’re this tense. Why am I so worked up? The cousins are busy for a good reason. They’re almost doublin’ the foot print of Ogre Ware right now. And they didn’t say anything untoward. Kriz, if it can be believed, even worked to ease my irritation. And that ain’t something I’ve, maybe, ever seen him do.

He’s mostly ever generatin’ the ire.

I let out a gush of breath. What I’m doin’ is avoidin’ my real trial. Would the parents let me go in and visit with Thomas? Aunt Dorig told me they’ve gotten more hostile as the week has progressed. She puttin’ em up in her home, and they’re still treatin’ em like the enemy.

Like all ogres are to blame for their—son’s—trouble.

Aunt recommended I give em time. Pshaw. Been over a week. If Thomas had been askin’ to see me, they certainly wouldn’ta been passin’ that along. ’Stead, they’ve claimed the doctors don’t want any visitors tirin’ him out.

I bought that for one day. The last seven, the anger has been buildin’ in my chest. Enough so, Zarade snapped at me this afternoon. She snaps at the other hens—never at me—well, rarely. She is an ogre hen. My mood has roughed her up a tad.

I let out another hard breath. Time to do it. Walked around the truck. Got in with intention, mind concentratin’ on every little move. Placed my foot on the brake and pressed the start-me button. The old girl rattled a little. Maybe to express she didn’t appreciate me slingin’ her arm about. Poor baby.

I concentrated on my drivin’. A hen’s anger, can maybe, create an unhealthy traffic situation. Pulled into the hospital lot, hands remainin’ at a forty-five degree angle on the steerin’ wheel as I turned in. The console claimed there was available parkin’, recommendin’ the fourth level. I clacked my credit card against the reader-thing, and the arm thirty feet away, enough space to allow a U-turn if no parkin’ was available, raised.

I indeed found an open slip on the fourth level of the garage. Hushed voices murmured across the smooth concrete as I headed for the main building. Maybe faces turned my way. Maybe with a smile. Or a nod of acknowledgment, for the Birs hen. But maybe I was a bit focused. Preparin’ for battle maybe. Wasn’t gonna let those parents keep me from tellin’ Thomas I feel so badly for what has happened.

I peered at my phone as I exited the elevator. Visitin’ hours just about over. Spent too much stinkin’ time with those fools.

I strode into the room. Guess my bare ogre feet on the cold marble floor didn’t warn em I was comin’, ’cause Thomas’ mama lurched. The papa wrenched his head around, to see what was up with his mate—wife, maybe.

I growled a low hello.

Ire immediately rose on the hen’s—woman’s face. The mate took four quick strides to get beside her, protective-like. Did he expect I was there to do more damage to their little clan?

Wasn’t there for them. Turned quickly to take in Thomas. And one of the gods, prolly one of the darker ones, reached out and squeezed the life out of my chest.

A wheeze traipsed out of my face. Oh. Poor Thomas.

His face was still a gatherin’ of black and purple, what wasn’t covered with gauze.

Tears blinded me. My sinuses gushed in an explosion. What air I’d sipped up the last few moments, fled from my lungs.

“Let’s give them a few minutes,” Thomas’ papa said.

I barely sensed the two humans edge past me for the door.

Both of Thomas’ arms and legs were in shiny white casts. A wave of blankets swirled from his waist to his throat. He blinked, blinked some more.

“Heh,” he whisper-hissed, and worked his lips together, stiffly.

“Hey,” I said. “I heard yar jaws are wired together.” I wiped tears from my cheeks, wiped my nose on my sleeve, and took a couple new steps toward him. “So if ya don’t wanta, ya don’t have to say anything. If ya’ll let me do the talkin.”

He mumbled a bit. Dawned on me, maybe since he twitched his eyes toward the tissue box, that he wanted me to dab the corners of his mouth.

A sob snuck out of my face. The man couldn’t even swallow right, with the wires that clamped his teeth together.

“A bit of a, pain,” he hissed between those teeth.

I could make out now that his arm casts reached all the way behind him, enclosin’ his shoulders, as one long body cast. I dabbed at his lips.

“Kinda messed up,” he wisped.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas. I wanted to come days ago, but, uh—”

I think he said he figgered the reason Daze and Ike hadn’t been in was because of his parents. Took him a bit to say it. And I dabbed at the corners of his lips again, afterward. Such soft, thin lips. Would embarrass an ogre.

I nodded. One more reason why Daze was so beyond himself. A sob threatened again. The tears didn’t just threaten. I allowed em to do their thing. Tickled a little as they flowed down my face. Was glad they gave me something to think about other than how raw and destroyed the human appeared.

“Heard about—” he said.

About? Oh. Prolly about me bashin’ in that bull’s head. I wanted to tell him another was arrested in the Wildes. That they’re holdin’ him. Ike had laughed, a bit harshly, that Chief Nazre wasn’t in a hurry to collect him. Okay with the bull waistin’ away in jail down there, for now, worryin’ about the noose he faces here.

“Yar mama, maybe, blamin’ me, I expect.” A new flush of tears escaped.

Pretty sure he said he didn’t blame anyone.

“If she’d allow it,” I said, “would like to help ya through gettin’ well.”

He blinked. Think his eyes welled a bit. Should I blot em?

“I’ll do anything,” I said. “I care for ya. We got plenty of bedrooms. I’ll quit the Inn for now. I’ll spend every minute—”

Don’t know how he managed it, but he shook his head. I listened closely as he spoke. Kinda made up some words to replace the hisses. But pretty sure I got the gist. He didn’t want to be the poster boy of human-ogre hate. Nor did he want to be brave and show the ogre community what humans—got most confusin’ here—but I think he just wanted to get out of the Range. Be around his own kind.

My shoulders rose and fell. Gone was any pretendin’ there was an us, with him and me.

Don’t rightly know what I said after that. He didn’t respond back, I don’t think. My mind only reconnected when I think I had already gone to the ground floor, up, down, and up again in the elevator.

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