Human Bait

Chapter 32: Mekkar

Rekkan's growl rumbled through the kitchen. "What makes you think you can show up uninvited?"

Mekkar's eyebrows pulled together, shadowing squinty eyes. "You gave me a key."

"That was twelve years ago. And you never came."

"I sent a letter."

"I didn't open it."

Mekkar frowned. "Why not?"

"Didn't think it was for me."

"But I addressed it 'to my beloved nephew.'"

"Exactly."

Mekkar's frown deepened. "Rekkan, I was busy."

"Yeah? Well, now I'm busy." Rekkan tilted his head toward me. "Celebrating with someone I actually care about."

Mekkar pulled the corner of his lip through his teeth and lifted the tupperware an inch. "But I brought cake."

Rekkan drew his shoulders back and squared his jaw. "We already have a cake."

Mekkar glanced at the charred, mutilated brick on the table. "Ah," he said.

For a few seconds, neither uncle nor nephew moved. I gripped the back of the chair beside me, wondering how to help. Based on Rekkan's story about his childhood, I was tempted to write off Mekkar. He baked Rekkan a perfect cake but failed at everything that mattered most.

But Rekkan once gave him a key to his fortress. After everything, Rekkan had wanted Mekkar in his life.

I took one step toward Mekkar. "Mekkar, is it? Hi, I'm Zafaru."

Mekkar met my gaze for the first time, and a less-strained smile warmed his lips and crinkled his eyes. "It's very nice to meet you, Zafaru. We Northerners owe you a big thank you for ending the Implant Era." He lifted the cake toward me. "Maybe this can be a thank-you cake, instead?"

I snuck a glance at Rekkan. His frown conveyed his disapproval, but he didn't move to stop me. I accepted the cake, set it on the table next to my failed attempt, and extended an open palm toward an empty chair.

"Would you like to join us for a slice, Mekkar?"

Rekkan clucked his tongue and shot me a withering scowl.

Mekkar shuffled forward and settled into the chair with a sigh of relief. I laid an extra fork and plate on the table in front of him. He scooted up to the table, chair legs scratching the floor, and cut into the cake. As Mekkar slid a slice onto his plate, I slipped back into my chair and helped myself to a slice. Soft edges crumbled, sweet decadence filled the air, and saliva flooded my mouth.

Mekkar scooped a bite, but he stopped before the food reached his mouth and dropped the fork to the plate with a sigh. "Rekkan, come sit with us."

Rekkan's rifle now hung on the wall, and he watched us with fists on his hips and jaw ticking. "Nope."

I rested my elbow on the table and chin on my fist. "Please, Rekkan?"

Rekkan scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a sigh. A few unnecessarily loud footsteps later, he slouched in his chair.

Mekkar and I each took a bite of cake. The morsels melted in my mouth, and an involuntary moan of pleasure escaped me.

Mekkar nodded approval and tapped his fork against the cake slice. "Guess I've still got it. Rekkan, remember the cakes I used to make for your birthday when you were a kid?"

"Nope," said Rekkan. He stabbed the slice of brown cake on his plate and scraped a knife over it, causing a squeaking screech like sandpaper on metal.

A tongue cluck. "I'm sure you remember. There was one with raspberry filling and another with chocolate whipped cream on the—" He gulped and widened his eyes, gaze locked over my shoulder. "There's something moving in that tank. I think it might be..."