Ink and Flowers - 15. 15: Finley

Before someone gets confused: no, there is no chapter missing

“Hey Fin, could you put the boxes in the van?” Patricia called across the entire boutique.

“Sure,” I called back and reached for the keys to the van. But before I could grab the first box, my phone rang. Expecting it to be Uther, I pulled it out. Over the last few days, he had been spamming me with text snippets and photographed texts. However, I had no great desire to delve any further into the subject, especially not in such a theoretical way.

To my great astonishment, however, Mother was written there.

Mother had never called before. The last time we had spoken was after I had been discharged from the army. What on earth had Uther told her that she now felt the need to talk?

Briefly, I considered ignoring the call, pretending I hadn't noticed. I simply wasn't mentally prepared for this kind of conversation. On the other hand, you don't say no to a matriarch. You don't lie to her.

I swallowed hard. There was nothing maternal about my mother and I had no connection to her, apart from the fact that she was the head of our large family. My sister Ninette, from the generation before me, had raised my generation, and Uther, the oldest of our generation, had taken care of me and Bomb a lot.

Nervously, I took the call. “Good afternoon, mother.”

“Hello, Finley.”

I swallowed again, but my mouth was uncomfortably dry.

“I've spoken to Uther,” she began without mincing words, sounding like she was in business mode. “First of all, I want to congratulate you on your hoard. You are now a fully grown dragon.”

“Thank you, mother,” I mumbled tonelessly. What else could I say?

“The subject of your hoard is a difficult one, though,” she continued. “Emotionally difficult.” Well, she was far from emotional. “You don't talk about things like that on the phone. We'll go into detail when we see each other.”

“Father has put the winter solstice-”

“Fiddlesticks,” she interrupted me almost gruffly. “You won't be leaving your newfound hoard for such a distance any time soon. And if this young man really does belong to the Fae Folk, I hardly think it advisable to invite him.”

“No, rather not...” Fae or not Fae, but to spend time with dragon children who are already strong enough to need shields but can't maintain them permanently, non-dragons need nerves like diamonds or real habituation.

“We're aiming for the summer solstice, yes?”

“Okay, I-”

“I've already spoken to Lydia. As the future matriarch, she needs to know about this early.”

“Uh, okay...?” Puzzled, I blinked. Which Lydia? And did that mean Mother would die soon?

“I reckon I've got a good ten years left, but most fae don't have that short a life expectancy after all. Protect your hoard, Finley, and protect it well.” She hung up.

Slowly and taken by surprise, I lowered the phone. Maybe I should be grateful she took the time to call me, the youngest of her eighty-plus children, instead of texting. But to be honest, the announcement of a personal conversation was now hanging on the horizon like a storm cloud.

And anyway, who the fuck was Lydia?

“Yes, who the fuck is Lydia?”

I spun around as Patricia's voice sounded behind me and I realized I'd spoken out loud.

“And why are you pulling a face like that? Is everything all right?”

“I... uh. Yeah. I don't know,” I stammered and cleared my throat under Patricia's scrutinizing gaze. “My mother called.” My face heated up.

Patricia nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I understand.” Then her smile turned sad. “I guess my son looks just as strange when I call.” She had told me her son, now a teenager, had been living with his father since the divorce. Except for moments like these, there was no sign that she even had a child or that she ever missed him.

“I doubt it,” I replied, forcing myself to smile reassuringly. I would have liked to make a comparison, but I couldn't think of anything human enough in a hurry. Before the moment could get any more awkward, I raised the car keys and Patricia nodded silently.

~

Ben: What bout weekend? 🤔

Mo: What it?

Ben: Tempest has closed company 🙄

Jake: We could go to the Curry Hut?

Ben: Please no, shot my stomach last time 🤢

Jake: You're too sensitive!

Mike: Nothing where fruit go with meat!

Jake: Tomatoes are fruit too...

Mike: Dude...😒

Mo: Jake puts pineapple on pizza 🍕🤢

Ben: Crazies. All crazies 😭

Mike: Hey, since Ems is MIA... steaks?

Jake: Could you please speak in complete sentences?

Ben: 👍🏻

Mike: Fin, what you say: T-bones for everyone?

Mo: 👍🏻

The group chat made me smile. But then it made me uncomfortable how Mike referred to Emmett as MIA. It was probably just one of Mike's jokes which he himself found bad once he turned his brain on, but I still didn't like it. However, it felt good to be asked for my opinion. Directly and even in short form.

Finley was the new guy, brought in by Emmett. Fin was one of them.

“I'm always in for meat,” I wrote back and a few minutes later Mike wrote to say he'd booked a table at the steakhouse. The others cheered.

A little strange, though, it was that Emmett wasn't there. While we enjoyed the really fantastic steaks, I just couldn't shake the feeling of waiting for him. I could even hear in my mind how Mike joked about Emmett's salad having wilted in the meantime.

Jake, Mike and Ben ordered a glass of wine afterwards, which made them look like teenagers imitating adults, but I didn't say that out loud. I preferred to focus on the dessert.

“My mom makes them better,” Ben remarked critically, eyeing the tartlet even more critically.

“Your mom's from Argentina?” I asked conclusively, after all, this was an Argentinian steakhouse, even if it had the inappropriate name of Gazpacho.

Grinning, Ben nodded. “Me too, I was born there. I'm half white, but you can't see it.”

“Not really,” I agreed cautiously.

“Thank God.” Jake muttered mockingly, ”We don't need anyone else with toothpaste-white skin.”

“Hey!” Mike protested, Mo giggled.

I chuckled too. “How fortunate I didn't inherit my mother's porcelain skin and strawberry-blonde hair.”

“Irish?” Ben asked curiously.

“No.”

“My dad was Irish.”

I didn't miss the past tense, but at that moment the waitress came over and interrupted us. I found her intrusive - Mike probably did too, because he then asked almost abruptly about Emmett and Dex.

After a moment's hesitation, I decided it was probably in Emmett's best interest if he didn't have to tell them himself or put up with the curiosity if he didn't want to talk about it, so I gave a brief account. Certain details were left out, but I preferred to explain to the questioning faces what tainting actually was.

Afterwards, there was an awkward silence. A heavy cocktail of negative emotions hung in the air.

Finally someone started to speak, but at that moment I got distracted because the guy behind me pushed his chair back so hard it banged against mine. Strong enough that the Coke sloshed all over my face and dripped onto my clothes. When I turned around in annoyance, the guy grinned a little stupidly.

“Sorry, man.” He was obviously no longer completely sober, nor were his friends, but at least they were leaving.

Reaching for a napkin so that I could at least wipe my face, I turned back to the others and suddenly saw puzzled expressions on their faces.

“Are you saying,” Ben began slowly and very incredulously, ”that Emmett deserved it?”

Even if I missed the basic statement, the rest was enough to set my pulse racing.

“It's not natural, okay?” Mo was annoyed.

“I don't understand your problem...” Jake admitted.

Still lacking the crucial bits, I silently wiped the Coke from my face.

“My problem? You're making a problem out of it!” Mo shook his head. “He's into it.”

“Well, rape fantasies aren't exactly the kind of kink I'd imagine Emmett to have,” Mike remarked, almost disgusted.

My napkin almost fell out of my hand when I realized. “Emmett said no.”

Mo gave me a venomous look, then turned back to Mike. “Emmett's not normal. He's a walking invitation. And why force a woman when there are men who want it?”

Completely unfamiliar anger boiled up inside me.

“It is and always will be rape, whether the victim is a man or a woman!” Ben said in a shrill voice, while Mike asked, stunned:

“Do you let anyone kiss you just because you like kisses?”

“I didn't say that!” Mo replied, rolling his eyes.

“So a no from a gay man isn't worth anything?” I wanted to know in a forced calm. “And please, explain to me why he's a walking invitation.” Smoke billowed out of my mouth and nose, but there was nothing I could do about it. I felt it boiling in my chest.

“You want him just as much!”

“What's that got to do with it?” Jake spoke up tonelessly.

“The make-up and the nail polish and that silly sweet perfume-”

The dragon roared at the insult to what our hoard was all about and I let out a growl along with more smoke. “Get your ass out of here, Mohammed, before I carry it out for you, though perhaps not necessarily along with the rest of your body.” I barely recognized my own voice.

For a moment, Mo stared at me in shock, then defiance set in. “What are you actually doing here? You're not even human.”

“Well, people like you make me ashamed to be one,” Mike muttered uncomfortably.

I got up from my chair, but before I could say anything, Jake said quietly:

“Just go. I think it's all been said.”

Defiance gave way to disbelief, then disgust, though it didn't seem entirely genuine. “Unnatural monsters...” muttered Mo, then- spitting out a curse in his native tongue- he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and stormed out.

I stared after him and only now realized that my hands were clenched into fists. Then I dropped back into my chair and exhaled hard, the cloud of smoke hitting Mike in the face who coughed suppressed. “Sorry.”

Now Ben stood up, but moved off in the direction of the bathroom.

“What was that...?” Jake shook his head in amazement and rubbed his eyes. “What... what's wrong with Mo?”

“I guess we're at the point now where childhood friendships either last forever or break up,” Mike remarked, unusually serious and philosophical.

I made an indefinable sound and licked my lips, tasting the air. The restaurant's ventilation system ensured that Mo's scent disappeared quickly, for which I was grateful. But my dragon part was still restless. No longer that angry, but restless. Wanted to curl up around our hoard and reassure him that he was the best and the most beautiful and the only one.

Gollum had to be inspired by a dragon.

In other circumstances I might even have found this funny, but now I had trouble not giving in fully to my instincts. My nervousness seemed to infect Jake and Mike too, as there was a sense of urgency as we paid the bill. For simplicity's sake, we split Mo's share, but since Ben seemed to have disappeared (Jake went to the bathroom to check, but he wasn't there) and his phone was off, Mike quickly paid for him.

We each tried to call Ben again, then I excused myself and trudged to my car. The cigarette in my mouth did little to nothing to calm me down. Homophobia is everywhere, but the shocking thing here was that Mo had apparently done a 180 turnaround in his opinion out of nowhere. I hadn't known the boys long, but their reactions had been clear enough, and it was almost comforting that Emmett hadn't had to hear it.

Pondering this, I reached my Rover, with someone leaning against it. I was about to say something when I recognized Ben. It turned out to be more of a puzzled sound and Ben turned around.

“Oh. Hey...” he mumbled with a weak smile.

“We've been looking for you...”

He nodded barely perceptibly and shrugged. “I needed some fresh air. My battery's dead. I need a new phone.” He ran his hand through his hair, which stood out disheveled afterwards.

I didn't ask if everything was okay, because it obviously wasn't. A long silent moment later, my cigarette was finished. “Would you like me to bring you home?”

“That would be great.” He gave me a crooked smile.

After he'd typed his address into the sat nav app and I'd driven off, his restlessness filled the interior of the car. I'm pretty good at keeping quiet, often don't know what to say and it makes a lot of people nervous.

“I don't know what's going on with Mo,” Ben finally blurted out. “He's never been like this. He's known I'm bi for ten years and he's never said a single stupid thing. Dom and Dex never hid either, and yes, Mo has said stupid things often enough over the years, but it's never been directed at anyone in particular and he-”

“You don't have to apologize for Mo,” I interrupted his breathless rant. “People change.”

Ben exhaled hard and rubbed his face. “I had a similar experience,” he mumbled from between his fingers. “I went out with a guy who, after a while, thought he'd waited long enough.” A small sniffle. “It's been a couple years. I didn't tell anyone, but I haven't dated a guy since then either.”

Why was he telling now? And to me? But I nodded and gave him a quick glance and an encouraging smile.

It didn't seem to help. “It scared me,” he whispered.

“Understandable.” I nodded again, searching for words. “Self-defense class?” was finally all I could get out.

“I thought of it.” Another sniffle, then a sigh. “Maybe I'll do it now and take Emmett with me.”

“Sounds about right.” My sincerity behind the words must have gotten through, because I got a weak smile.

“You like Emmett a lot, don't you?”

“Quite, yes...” I admitted - there was probably no point in denying it - and felt my cheeks grow warm.

“You'd be cute together.”

That didn't make it any better and I shook my head. “Emmett has other things on his mind right now.” It was hard to imagine him throwing himself at the next guy after an experience like that just because he was interested, especially as his recurring anxiety in my presence was anything but helpful.

“I'm just saying.” Ben sounded a little offended. “Do you know what Emmett is?”

The question had a weird undertone, curious and strangely provocative at the same time, and I frowned a little. “No. Do you know?” The resulting pause made my fingers twitch on the steering wheel.

“Dom once said half witch half fairy,” Ben finally answered slowly. “What I've read about Fae seems to fit.”

The assessment matched my guess and I nodded simply.

“It's rude to just ask, right?”

“Yes. Some races take it as a deadly insult.”

“What if you just go and say, hey, I'm... I'm...” he chuckled, ”a dwarf. Then what?”

With raised brows, I looked over at him and got a wry grin. “Passive-aggressive doesn't make it any better, on the contrary.”

He grimaced. “Then how do you even communicate about this?”

I snorted a humorless laugh. “Good question. Some don't hide at all, like your deer shifters or Emmett's uncle. In the academy, as children, when you're drilled to fight, to learn strengths and weaknesses, your own and others', everything is forced out in the open. Later, in the military, there are written briefings or information is given off the record. But just like that here in everyday life? No idea.”

Ben laughed too, but it seemed artificial. “Leprechauns are fae too, I've read.”

I nodded and maneuvered the car through a nasty construction site.

“My Irish grandpa told me as a kid that we had leprechauns in our family tree and if I looked at the end of the rainbow, I'd have better luck than the others.”

“That's quite possible. I don't know much about these things,” I remarked cautiously.

“I've never tried it,” Ben admitted with amusement. “But maybe it's true. Well, about the leprechauns, I mean. Fae blood would explain why I feel connected to Emmett, don't you think?”

Completely irrational jealousy shot up inside me and I forced myself to swallow it down. “Quite possibly.” I literally had to choke out the words. Something was going completely wrong here recently and it wasn't just me.

Ben seemed to notice something was off because he kept quiet, albeit nervously and uncomfortably, and a few minutes later we were both glad when I pulled up outside his house.