Over just the last day, the creek had transformed from a raging torrent to a thin, clear, cold trickle between small boulders — the snow was mostly melted now. Avery found Tara seated on a flat rock beside the water, knees tucked to her chest, eyes distant.

  “Hey.” He didn’t know if she had heard him coming. He didn’t want to startle her.

  “Go away.” She didn’t look at him, but one ear tipped back in his direction.

  He didn’t want to leave her alone, both for reasons he recognized as selfish and out of genuine concern for her. He fought back his first reaction, which was to bluntly tell her she needed to talk to someone. That probably wouldn’t go over well. What, Avery thought, would Casey do? He took a guess at the right words. “I will go away if you want. Just promise me you’re not going to do anything to hurt yourself or anyone else first.”

  “I’m not suicidal or murderous.” She was hunched so far over, with her arms around her legs, that when she looked sideways at him, her gaze was over the top of one of her powerful biceps.

  He hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, he repeated the question, “Do you want me to stay or go?”

  No answer. She threw a fist-sized rock at the water with considerable force. Water sprayed up onto the far bank. That wasn’t at all helpful. What was he supposed to say now? “Tara,” Avery said carefully, “you know you’re not a monster.”

  Despite his attempt to moderate his tone to be compassionate and sensitive, his words still sounded awkward as soon as he’d uttered them, and her ears pinned flat. Oops. Perhaps he should have found a way to be more tactful, but how? He thought she needed the reassurance, but he just wasn’t good at this sort of thing.

  Belatedly, he realized the ‘you know’ part had probably been insensitive. She didn’t know she wasn’t a monster, and depending on how she’d interpreted his words, that might have come across as patronizing. He started to run a hand over his face in exasperation at himself, then remembered that he’d put on a full face of makeup before leaving the shop, and he turned the gesture into adjusting his glasses instead.

  He needed to order more contacts. The hospital had taken, and apparently discarded, his last pair. But, did Tara prefer him with glasses or without? They annoyed him, it was a sensory thing, but one he’d put up with if he found out Tara liked the way he looked in them...

  She said, “I look like something out of a horror movie.” This time, it was a dirt clod that she chucked, and she threw it a good hundred feet downstream. It exploded on impact with a small rock jutting out of the middle of the stream, leaving a brown smear on the stone.

  “You don’t. I promise. I’m not even remotely horrified by you. Can I sit down next to you?” He was wary of just plopping down without permission. However, looming over her while she huddled on the rock seemed problematic. Maybe she would find him easier to talk to if he was below her eye level.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Her deep voice was so quiet as to almost be inaudible.

  Relief flooded him as he realized she wouldn’t chase him off. Carefully, he picked a gravelly spot on the creek bank several feet away, and well below her rock. Then, after he’d settled cross-legged to the ground, he realized he didn’t know how to keep the conversation going. He was about to assure her, for the second time, that he didn’t see her as an animal when she asked, “How come Mark calls you ‘Birdcage?’”

  “Oh, that. Because my name sounds like ‘Aviary,’ and he says I’m cuckoo because I’m a femboy.” Avery snorted a one-syllable laugh out through his nose, relieved at the change in subject. He waved at his face and hair. “I do give him points for cleverness for that one. Your nickname is dumb. Maybe we can encourage him to come up with something new.”

  “Oh, that’s terrifying. Let’s not. He’d probably find something even worse to call me than Fugly, especially now that he’s got my kitty-cat makeover to work with.” She was silent for a long moment, blue eyes searching his face, then she sighed. “Nadria’s blindly angry at Todd. She pulled more magic through me than she ever had before. I thought she was going to hurt me.”

  “That wasn’t you doing all that?”

  She shook her head. “The casting itself was Nadria’s work. She used the video from my cell phone and the memory of the land to make what was here once visible again, and she employed some unconventional techniques to push me way past my normal limits. My head is pounding now. Simon was right to ask about leyshock. That’s when a mage channels so much power that they get really sick, even dead, from it. I think I’m okay, but it was really close.”

  “I, uh, can get you some ibuprofen and stuff if that would be helpful.”

  “There’s tons of meds in the basement. They’re only slightly expired.”

  “I’ll bring you some new supplies tomorrow,” Avery promised, eager to help her out. “And as far as Nadria goes, she screwed Simon over with that geas, and Simon’s her son. She seems like quite the bitch.”

  “I don’t know exactly what Todd did to the Book’s spirits, but I’m guessing it wasn’t pleasant.” Tara sighed. “She’s been badly hurt, both physically and emotionally. I’m not sure she’s the same person I knew before Todd got to her. Those children, the younger spirits trapped in the Book, were her world. She felt like she failed the clan when Yienry had them all killed, and I’m sure when she lost the kids to Todd, it opened old wounds.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe we can figure out a way to help her. And, uh, speaking of trauma, are you okay? That was pretty intense back there.”

  She gave him another long, questioning look, then said, “I thought you’d laugh at me if you realized I was attracted to you, or maybe even be grossed out.”

  That hadn’t been what he was referring to. He’d halfway forgotten that she’d accidentally confessed to liking him. Still, since she’d brought it up, it seemed like a good opportunity to address the matter.

  “Tara,” he said very seriously, “I like you, and I want to get to know you, and see where that leads. Even if I didn’t, though, I would never make fun of somebody because they were attracted to me, and I didn’t return the interest. That’s just wrong. I may be an idiot sometimes, but I always try to be kind. I know people have hurt you, often deliberately, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been hurt. There was someone...” She stopped and ran both hands down her face. “It’s an ugly story.”

  “What happened?” he prompted. Then he wondered if he should have been less pushy, since it sounded as if she was hesitant to tell the tale. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ or ‘Is it a story you want to tell?’ might have been better.

  She bit her lip, exposing one upper canine, and regarded him warily. That confirmed his suspicion that he wasn’t being sensitive enough, and guilty anxiety made him look away from her. Had he caused her anxiety with an ill-phrased question?

  She finally said, “After high school, I, uh, went to some drag shows down in the valley and competed a bit—”

  Avery blinked and sat up, gaze snapping back to her. He had simply not expected her to say anything like that. “—Woah. Wait! You do drag? As a king or a hyperqueen?”

  He hadn’t seen her at local shows, but that didn’t mean much. His participation in the area’s drag scene was just casual, and depending on how much makeup she was wearing, he might not have even recognized her had they crossed paths.

  “I tried both, had the most fun as a hyperqueen, but I don’t do either anymore.” Her pale skin didn’t hide much when she blushed. “I just went to a few shows because I was curious, and, uh, I was pissed off at my family for being bigots. Going to some clubs was about me proving to myself I wasn’t like them, and maybe trying to find people more like me, you know? But mostly, I ended up sitting alone in the back of a room, drinking strawberry daiquiris, and having no clue how to connect to people. Then I realized that not all drag queens were cis men, and it seemed like a fun thing to do. I could pretend to be a glamorous diva for a night, not Fugly Tara.”

  With her sultry voice and the acting skills and style he remembered from high school drama class, he thought she had the potential to be rather good. Several times, she’d managed to channel the substance of Jessica Rabbit or Betty Boop in skits — especially remarkable since she’d usually been wearing boys’ basketball shorts and a t-shirt. There was no disputing that her usual presentation was distinctly butch. “You’ve never been ugly!”

  She was frowning, though he didn’t think she was all that upset. Her ears hadn’t pinned. Instead, they pricked all the way forward at him, and her eyes narrowed to a near-squint. What did that even mean? She stated, “I owned a mirror, Avery. I know what I looked like.”

  “Tara, not everyone is only attracted to conventional beauty. I certainly am not.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen some of your past partners. They were way prettier than I could ever be,” she said, and the implication that he only dated pretty people stung. “Anyway, you’re probably better at drag than me.”

  He decided not to be offended by her words, at least right now. He might feel different if she continued to accuse him of that level of vanity after they knew each other better. Anyway, she’d said most of his partners, not all. ‘Most’ was fair enough, given that some of his partners had been startlingly attractive by typical standards.

  He addressed the assumption about drag, instead. “I play around with drag makeup on social media because it’s fun, and my followers love it. I also do makeup tutorials showing how to accomplish all sorts of looks, for cosplay and sometimes just for folks who might need some extra help contouring or covering up a skin issue or whatever. But I haven’t been in an actual drag show in a few years, and that was only because I was mad at an ex and had something to prove. I prefer cosplay, and I’m pretty active in a few fandoms. I may or may not play female characters. It depends on who I'm going with and my mood.”

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, if you wanted to do a drag act together with me, though, I’d totally consider it... I've always loved partner acts.” Whoops. Was he getting ahead of himself and coming on too strong? “I don’t object to drag. I just have to pick my priorities — not enough hours in the day, yeah? My therapist says I need to triage and decide what I want to do most, so I’m not panicking about getting all the things done. Buuuut,” here, he flashed her a grin, “Your voice is fire. It’d be a blast to do something with you on stage. I’ve always wanted to.”

  As he said this, his heart began to race. The thought of performing with someone who relied on him to do his part was terrifying. For Tara, he thought he would push through the fear, especially if it meant she could shine on stage and he could just be her backup singer or something.

  Her expression turned sly. He loved seeing her sense of humor fully surface, and he was grinning in reaction and relief that she wasn’t going to shut him down even before she said, “Would that act be before or after we track Todd down and make him cry, then force him to turn me back?”

  He laughed out loud at that question. “Kitty-you would definitely be an act people would remember.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And with the right costume and makeup, you could be absolutely smoking hot,” he said, and then he watched her wilt. Whoops. Had he just reminded her that her real form wasn’t quite as conventionally beautiful? What was that reaction about? He stammered, “But, uh, I think you already know you can be pretty damn gorgeous in your real form, too, if you were doing drag.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was small. “I guess. For a few minutes. It’s all fake. Just makeup and a padded bra and a corset and shit.” She didn’t give him a chance to point out that most women who were ‘conventionally beautiful’ relied heavily on makeup and, often, shape-altering undergarments, before continuing quickly, “Avery, I hate being a grimalkin. I’d rather be me, even if I’m Fuckin’ Ugly Tara as a human. This form,” she gestured at her face with her claws perilously close to one cheek, “feels all wrong, and I hate it. I don’t want to be a sexy beast. I want to be me.”

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  “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just ... damnit, I’m not good at this stuff.”

  “It’s okay.” Her smile was a little crooked. “At least you’re trying to be kind.”

  “Anyway, we’ll just have to figure out a way to make Todd turn you back. If nothing else, I’ll beat him up for you until he cries. Todd’s a little chickenshit. I don’t think it’ll take much to scare him into undoing the spell.”

  “I don’t need anyone to fight my fights for me,” Tara said, ears flicking back with evident irritation. Then, as if remembering her manners when declining a gift, “But thank you.”

  They were getting sidetracked, and this discussion wasn’t going in any sort of direction that he’d hoped. He asked, “So, anyway, you said you met someone through drag?”

  The animation disappeared from her expression. She closed her enormous blue eyes and balled her fists before saying, haltingly, “Avery, they... they were gorgeous. Exactly the kind of person I’m attracted to, y’know? Best of all genders, and so bright and alive... We laughed so, so much together. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun with someone before in my life. It was like they made me the center of their world, and I thought I’d finally found somebody who would love me for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, because he could tell from the pain in her voice that this story wouldn’t end well, and that was what you were supposed to say when somebody was upset.

  She gave him an odd look. Had he expressed sympathy too soon? Well, it was obvious that she was hurting!

  Tara stretched her long legs out, took a deep breath, and rested her hands on her thighs. “I really thought they were into me. They were always hanging around me at shows, and they took me out to dinner a few times. They bought me a really cool wig because I couldn’t get my own hair to do what I wanted, and I couldn’t afford a good one...” she gestured at her thin and wavy locks, currently pulled back into a dishwater blond bun. He’d never seen her wear it that long before; she’d buzzed it short when they were in school together, and after that, she’d always seemed to wear it in a flat top. However, the color hadn’t changed from her human form. "They helped me with my makeup, because I did not know what I was doing.

  “Then, I got my tax return, and I wanted to do something awesome for them. We drove up to Jerome, and I got a really cool hotel room with a fantastic view, and we pretended, just for one night, that we were rich tourists. We watched the sunset together from the balcony of our room. We had dinner at a fancy restaurant, drank cocktails at a bar, listened to live music, laughed until our ribs hurt, and even talked about getting an apartment together. Then we went back to my room and... well, they kissed me and then...” she blushed again. “It was my first time with anyone. I thought it would be different than it was...”

  He watched as she wilted in place, shoulders slumping and eyes closing. Voice so quiet he had to strain to hear her over the gurgling of the creek, she said, “A couple of days later, after we went home, I hadn’t heard from them, so I reached out and suggested we could get together again. Th-they said the reason they hung out with me was that I wasn’t after them sexually. They told me I was ugly, and my act was basic and unoriginal, and they were just being nice by pretending to be my friend, and that nobody would ever want me, and they’d just pity fucked me.

  “Then, they blocked me everywhere. Avery, they’d been flirty with me from the first time they saw me as a drag king, and they kissed me. I’d even gotten a room with twin beds because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go that far, but it seemed so right at the time! I’d have respected their boundaries if they just wanted to stay platonic, but they initiated everything.”

  “Fuck them. It doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.” He paused, then added, “Sounds like you met someone who was a grade-A asshole. Every community has its colossal jerks, even the queer community.”

  “Maybe. I think they were just more messed up than I realized, and they woke up with regrets, but they took it out on me. They told all my new friends I pressured them for sex, that they were too drunk to say no, that I was a chaser, and that I misgendered them, and none of it was true! They’d only had a couple of drinks hours beforehand, and they made it sound like I’d roofied them! Anyway, that was why I stopped competing in shows. They’d been involved in the Valley drag scene for a long time, and I was brand new, and I figured nobody would believe me.”

  “Fuck. That’s wrong.”

  She ducked her head. “I just wanted friends, Avery. As Mark would say, maybe they were out of my league, but they made me think a relationship with them was possible.”

  “Fuck them, all of this is wrong,” he said, with feeling, while wishing he could go back and substitute himself for the terrible person who’d hurt her. He would have romanced the hell out of her. What they’d done wasn’t just utterly appalling; it was evil.

  She continued, “I’m not the kind of girl people fall in love with, and I should have realized that it was a red flag when they got flirty with me. I’m the kind of girl people make fun of for dreaming about dating pretty people, like Aspen—” She looked at him and wrapped her arms around her knees again.

  “Oh, Aspen.” He rolled his eyes as some things became clear. “Green mullet, super skinny, always smells like pot and patchouli, and wears tie-dye t-shirts and sequined pumps everywhere? Their drag persona’s a pretty funny chain-smoking Karen, right?”

  She blinked. “You know them?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, they’re a talented performer and a great comedian, and I’ll grant you that they’re cute, but they’re also a little shit. Tara, everyone knows they’re a shit. You’re not the first person they've done something like that to. They even made a pass at me once at a bar, and I said no. I had no interest in being their next victim.”

  “Good for you,” she said.

  “Yeah. Anyway, they got in a snit ‘cuz I said no and they told me I was faking being queer because I dress like a girl, but I haven’t changed my pronouns or my name, and I usually date women — when I pointed out I date everyone, they said the dudes and enbies in my history were just me being performative, which is so not true. That, incidentally, is not a common type of sentiment in the queer community, but you run across it every once in a while.” He contemplated the angry tirade that had been sent his way, then added, “They said some obnoxious things about my family money, too — like I thought I was too good to date them because I’m rich. Like... I’m more able to date whoever the hell I want because the need to earn money will never be a factor in my future. Casey says they’re very angry, and they take it out on everyone around them by finding ways to hate.”

  “That’s stupid,” Tara said, ears pinning again. Her eyes flashed with real anger on his behalf.

  “Why’s it such an issue if I like hoop earrings and high heels? And not only do I like my name, it’s androgynous! I’m named after my grandpa, and he’s awesome! Why would I want to change a name I love?” He was getting a bit loud, but Aspen pissed him all the way off. “I mean, some days I feel way, way more girly than others, and sometimes I don’t relate to any gender at all, but he works for me, right now! Anyone who tells me I need to misgender myself because me being a he threatens their worldview can go fuck themselves. Aspen doesn’t get to dictate my pronouns any more than some damn cisgender asshole gets to tell them what theirs are.”

  He huffed angrily. “Gender’s messy. It’s a spectrum that runs in multiple directions, and it has so many layers and tricky nuances, and for me, it fluctuates over time. Maybe someday I’ll go by she or they, I dunno, but that’s my choice to make, in my own time. And anyway, I’m far too busy to deal with the paperwork right now. Do you know how long the lines are at the DMV? Plus, my therapist would make me do a bunch of therapy sessions before she’d agree I’m trans, and I assume she’d need to write a letter or something for the government.”

  She barked a surprised laugh. “Fair point. Though I think you can change your pronouns socially without doing it legally, Avery.”

  “I know that. Allow me the moment of infuriated sarcasm.”

  Her grin at his tone was a reward all on its own.

  He let his tone darken, summoning theatrical training to growl, “Assholes, however, occur in all genders, and Aspen absolutely is one.”

  She gave him a mildly concerned look, but didn’t seem scared of him. He took a deep, ragged breath and reminded himself to tone it down and save the unhinged rants for people who knew him better. Daxariel and Shana would be right there with him after a few drinks.

  Daxi had their own reasons to hate Aspen — it was a similar story to his, with the added insult of Aspen’s refusal to believe they were aromantic and ace, since Daxi had been wearing daisy dukes and a crop top. Aspen had assumed ‘very skimpy clothes’ equalled ‘slutty’ rather than perfectly reasonable clothing for a June Pride event in Phoenix, on a thousand-degree summer day.

  He vented another sigh. “Fuck, I’m not good at this kind of thing... sorry if that was too much.”

  “It’s okay, Avery. I appreciate the perspective on Aspen. And on your gender. I’ll use whatever pronouns you prefer.”

  That calm reaction was a relief. He generally brought up gender, and the possibility his could change someday, early in any relationship. This subject wasn’t what Casey had meant when he said tell her about you, but it wasn’t something that everyone was comfortable with.

  He tucked a knee to his chest and rested his chin on it. Gravel crunched under his heel. “Tara, what Todd did to you was horrific. I wish I could have been there to stop it. That’s what I actually meant when I said there was a lot of trauma for you today. It can’t have been fun to relive that, and I’m sorry you felt you needed to.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked away.

  “Oh. Sorry.” The conversation stalled out. Silence stretched for a minute or two. She threw pebbles at a pine cone on the far bank of the creek, accurately hitting it each time.

  He finally picked a small rock out, tried to hit the same pine cone, and missed by a couple of feet.

  “I should have just refused to go to the Riley house,” she said as if prompted by his failure to hit the target. “I knew he was fucking around with magic, and I knew he’d try to mess with me. I thought any magic he knew would be stupid stuff that I could handle, and I could turn it back on him and make him regret it. I didn’t think he’d dare to do anything permanent to me, and I just figured he’d be obnoxious. And I wasn’t exactly unarmed... but I was wrong that I could handle him. That’s my fault.”

  “No. It’s not your fault. You were just delivering a fridge. He chose to hurt you.”

  “People generally do.” Her tone turned bitter. “It’s like I’ve got a sign stuck on my forehead only they can see: ‘Piss on Tara. It’ll be fun.’”

  “Tara,” he said, very seriously, “there are a lot of awful people in this world, but having friends helps. If you have people in your life who have your back, it makes everything so much easier.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have any friends. I tried with Aspen, and look how that turned out.” She pitched a rock the size of a golf ball with pinpoint accuracy. The pine cone shot off into the bushes on impact.

  “It’s scary.” Avery reached an arm out, found another pine cone, and threw it across to the other bank of the creek. He followed up with a thumb-sized chunk of sandstone, missing the new cone by a mile. Tara didn’t say anything, so he elaborated, “Friends can hurt you worse than enemies.”

  “That ever happen to you? Friends hurting you?”

  “A few times. Mark doesn’t do much more than annoy me if he calls me a name, but if it’s someone I like, and they mean the slur? That hurts. I only spent a year in college, but that was tough. My mom donated a shit ton of money to the drama department, and because of that bribe I got cast as the lead in the spring play when I didn’t earn it, and a really popular kid who deserved the role got edged out... a lot of people were awful to me. Some of them were my friends the first semester, until I got cast the second, including this girl I was hanging out with all the time and was totally crushing on ... Plus, my social skills suck, y’know? That never helps.

  “I was on the other side of the country from my real friends and just so alone. I was trying to make friends and please people, but I kept saying exactly the wrong things, and nothing I could do would fix it. And they said a liot of hurtful things. It messed me up for a long time."

  “That sounds pretty bad.” She hit the new pine cone with a third pine cone. “For me... Sometimes people just say they’re my friend, but they’re lying. They want something from me, or they’re pretending to like me to make it easier to hurt me. That happens too often. Maybe that’s why I took Aspen so hard. I thought I was good at spotting fake friends, but they still fooled me.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll take a chance on being friends with you, if you’re willing to take a risk on me.” He wasn’t sure what prompted him to propose the deal, and as soon as he said it, he wanted to take the words back. Instead of immediately rejecting the suggestion, however, she looked straight at him. That definitely wasn’t a no. She seemed to be weighing her options.

  She blew out a sharp breath. “Avery, you’re not what I was expecting.”

  “I’m autistic,” he blurted out, then rolled his eyes at himself. “Why did I say that? Fuck! And also, I’m a really smooth talker. I could probably have figured out a better way to tell you.”

  She laughed. “No shit, Avery, I started suspecting that you were on the spectrum a few days ago. One of my brothers is too. Which doesn’t mean he’s not also a jerk, but it does mean I recognize... well. It’s fine.”

  “Damn, I think that’s the fastest a girl’s ever figured it out. Usually, I mask better than that, right up until I can’t — I wasn't even diagnosed until I was nineteen, and it never occurred to me that the reason I struggle so much with people is that I was autistic. I mean, we both know Daxariel, and they're obviously on the spectrum. I'm not like that!

  "But Casey says that a lot of times, I’m saying all the right things, just in the wrong ways, and this type of conversation is hard for me. Sorry if I was clumsy about things.”

  “What I actually meant was that I thought you were going to be a rich, vain playboy, Avery, with really pretty hair and no depth, and probably a cruel, selfish streak. You’re something very different. I can tell you’re honest about whatever you say, and that matters a lot. Also, you’re better at conversation than you think.” She suddenly blushed.

  “I mean, my hair is pretty.” He patted his curls. “It’s the best hair money can buy.”

  He’d made her laugh again. The deep rumble was incredibly reassuring. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Friends it is.”

  He was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

  “And,” she stood up, dusting off the seat of her pants as she did. “This is not how I expected today to end, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. Been a long time since I had a friend.”

  She answered his grin with a smile, revealing a pair of dimples he hadn't even known existed.