Crowbones

CHAPTER 8

Ilya and Aggie

Windsday, Grau 31

Find out who is still here and who has returned to their own dens,> Ilya said, using the terra indigene form of communication, when he and Natasha stepped into the main house and closed the door.

Natasha replied.

terra indigene have their territories within that land, especially around the lake itself.>

terra indigene who have as little contact with us as they do with the humans.>

terra indigene, but it didn’t acknowledge my authority. Didn’t acknowledge me at all.>

But now, especially you.

Natasha gave Ilya a full-fanged smile that stopped the academic two steps before he reached them.

She glided away, leaving him to deal with the excited academic.

“Did you see it? Did you see?”

“Who are you?” Ilya asked. “We weren’t introduced earlier.”

“What? Oh. Professor Rodney Roash. I’m writing a book about urban legends, folklore, and myths, human and Other. I was hoping to interview some of the terra indigene about their myths and folktales to try to establish how such things come into being, but I never thought to see . . .” He reached for Ilya’s arm.

Ilya showed fang and snarled a warning. Not very proper for an attorney who was usually so good at mimicking human behavior, but he didn’t want to be touched and he didn’t want to be mistaken for human tonight.

Professor Roash took a step back but didn’t give up. “I’d like to interview those Crows about what they saw that frightened them so much. And why it frightened them.”

“Not tonight,” Ilya said. “If I think there is anything that would be of interest to you, I will tell you.”

“But . . .”

“If you persist in being a pest, I will shove you out the door and let you find out for yourself what is out there in the dark.”

Roash’s expression was one of offended dignity. “Being enthusiastic about one’s field of study is not being a pest.”

“Do humans have a word for someone who exploits another being’s fear?” Ilya asked.

A flicker of something in the man’s eyes. Had this human been waiting for something to happen? And did it happen as he’d intended?

Something to discuss with Grimshaw in the morning.

“You’re staying at the Mill Creek Cabins?” Ilya asked.

“Yes, but I think I’ll remain here tonight. Several of my colleagues are planning to do the same.”

That flicker in the eyes.

“No,” Ilya said. “A driver will be along soon, and we’ll take you and your colleagues back to the Mill Creek Cabins.”

“You can’t decide that.”

He showed a hint of fang. “Oh, but I can.”

He walked away before he gave in to the urge to shift to his smoke form and drain the fool enough to make sure no trouble would come from that direction. Getting drunk from consuming alcohol-infused blood wouldn’t be prudent tonight.

An academic interested in urban legends, folklore, and myths. Nothing strange about someone like that coming to The Jumble to observe Trickster Night. But Ilya couldn’t shake the feeling that the man knew more about what had happened tonight than he and Grimshaw did.

And that made him wonder if Roash would be surprised by anything Grimshaw was transporting in the body bag.

Aggie held the skillet in one feathered hand and held on to Miss Vicki with the other. There were feathers on her face, feathers in her hair. Feathers, feathers, everywhere.

Jozi hadn’t been able to hold the human form and had shifted completely to Crow, needing Julian’s help to get untangled from her work outfit.

Aggie wanted to shift too, wanted to feel safer in her own shape, but she had to tell Ilya what she saw, had to make Miss Vicki understand the danger.

Conan had sniffed out Eddie, who was hiding on the screened porch, paralyzed with fear and unable to speak in any language.

Ilya arrived in the kitchen and crouched beside the table, like Julian.

“Tell me what is out there,” Ilya said.

“Caw.” An almost human throat, but no human sounds.

Don’t matter if you caw, don’t matter if you shout.

“Aggie told me earlier it is someone called Crowbones,” Miss Vicki said. She looked at Aggie, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t that right?”

Crowbones will gitcha if you don’t watch out!

Aggie nodded.

“Some kind of terra indigene?” Ilya asked. “An Elder perhaps?”

She shrugged.

“Does this Crowbones carry a gourd?”

“A gourd full of bones,” she whispered, finally able to say human words. “Bones of the taken.”

“And a cape made of the feathers of the taken?” Ilya asked.

Aggie shook her head. “Feathers of the fallen. Feathers of Crows killed by humans or other Crows. Bones are taken from Crows who do bad things. That’s how you know they were bad Crows.” Shaking, she dropped the skillet and tore at the buttons on her blouse. Unable to free herself, she grabbed Miss Vicki with both hands. “Hunting here. Gonna git us. Can’t . . . escape. Be . . . careful. Might get you too.”

With a cry that turned into a caw, Aggie shifted to her Crowgard form, then struggled to get free of her clothes. She perched on Miss Vicki’s thigh, shaking and shaking.

Gonna gitcha!

Why? Why? What had she and the other Crowgard living in The Jumble done to draw Crowbones to Lake Silence?

Ilya confirmed that Conan Beargard was still on the porch, keeping an eye on Eddie as well as making sure nothing came toward them from the beach or backyard.

Leaving an agitated Cougar, who had shifted to his Cat form, to guard Victoria and the two Crows who were still under the kitchen table, Ilya led Julian Farrow to the poolroom. He shooed out a couple of guests who had ignored the Reserved sign on the door, then turned to Julian, who leaned against the pool table.

“A hollow gourd and a cape made of feathers?” Julian asked.

“Chief Grimshaw and I found those items when we investigated.” He didn’t mention the bleach—or the severed arm.

“Meaning you went wandering out in the dark?”

“You would have done the same.” Ilya waited for a denial but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one.

“Whatever you found might be what Jozi and Aggie saw,” Julian said carefully, “but not what Eddie saw.”

“The individual could have reached The Jumble by boat, could have come up from the beach. Eddie, standing in the screened porch, would have seen a figure moving past.” Ilya didn’t believe it, but it was a valid scenario.

“Maybe for what Jozi and Aggie saw, but not what Eddie saw,” Julian repeated.

“Has the feel of The Jumble changed?”

Julian hesitated. “I think you, Wayne, and I should meet at the bookstore tomorrow and play a game of Murder. You’ll have to get the altered game board from Wayne; he confiscated it and all the game pieces.”

Not good. Julian Farrow had sensed the trouble last summer by playing Murder on a game board that had been altered to represent The Jumble. If he was suggesting this as a way to feel the pulse of the land and beings around Lake Silence . . .

“You can’t tell from The Jumble itself?”

Julian shook his head. “Maybe because there are too many strangers here right now. I didn’t have a feeling of anything being wrong, but something terrified the Crowgard, and we have to figure out what it is.”

“Agreed.” He had four young Sanguinati staying at Silence Lodge. Was it a coincidence that this unknown threat showed up around the same time as he had this additional responsibility?

Another hesitation, which made Ilya wonder how much information Julian Farrow was keeping to himself. The man had been a reliable source of information about the village and villagers until he’d developed an emotional attachment to Victoria DeVine. Farrow was still a reliable source for most things.

“You should give your associates in Lakeside a call as soon as you can,” Julian finally said. “A couple of times this evening, Grimshaw started to tell me about a message he’d received, but we didn’t have a chance to have a private word before things got exciting.”

Yes, the evening had certainly gotten exciting.

“Will you call Chief Grimshaw to arrange a time for this meeting tomorrow?” Ilya asked.

Julian nodded.

They left the poolroom. Ilya checked on Victoria one more time, then rounded up the four academics who weren’t official guests at The Jumble. Professor Roash wasn’t happy about being required to leave; the other three men, after being encouraged to take a pizza box full of leftovers with them—and after being reminded that the chief of police lived in one of the cabins—were more than ready to return to their own lodgings to continue the festivities and discussions.

Boris drove the minivan that belonged to Roash, and Ilya drove the car belonging to Peter Lynchfield. They made sure the men were all safely inside their own cabins. Then Ilya shifted to a mostly smoke form and swiftly went over to Grimshaw’s cabin, keeping close to the ground and then close to the porch floor in case any of the academics looked out a window or stepped outside and wondered what he was doing. After a moment’s debate, he left the keys to the minivan and car next to the front door since he didn’t see any obvious place to hide them.

There was a third vehicle parked at the cabin next to Grimshaw’s, but Edward Janse had scampered into his cabin and locked the door. The human struck him as timid, at least in comparison with the other three men. Ilya couldn’t picture Janse trying to drive off before daylight, so he didn’t insist on having the keys to that car.

Boris warned.

Ilya flowed off the porch and across the small, enclosed front yard. Flowed under the wooden gate. Then he shifted back to human form to face Fire and Air.

“Would humans call that theft?” Air asked, sounding curious.

“I don’t want these humans to leave until Chief Grimshaw and I have a chance to meet tomorrow morning and discuss some things. Confiscating keys to their vehicles is a simple way to make sure they don’t.”

“They might have more than one set of keys.”

“That had occurred to me.”

Fire looked at Air. Then he looked at Ilya and smiled. “We will assist.”

“Your help would be appreciated.” It was the only safe thing to say.

Even for other terra indigene, receiving help—or any attention—from Elementals was not without its risks, but like some of the Elders, they found The Jumble, as it was run by Victoria, to be a variety show of entertainment. They participated when it suited them, and he wondered why it suited them now.

And he wondered what the Elementals knew about the terra indigene visitor that had been watching him and Grimshaw collect the bits and pieces of a foolish prankster. If something had come to The Jumble to hunt, would the other Elders object? Or was this unfamiliar form something even the Elders who resided around Lake Silence would avoid?

Shifting back to smoke form, Ilya and Boris returned to Silence Lodge. Natasha had left a message that she was going to stay with Victoria tonight and keep an eye on things. That meant she wouldn’t be traveling across the lake, in the dark, alone.

He suspected that decision had more to do with his emotional adjustments to having a mate than any real need for one of the Sanguinati to remain at The Jumble, but he was grateful that she had allowed him that comfort tonight.

He was even more grateful after he placed a call to the Sanguinati in Lakeside and talked to Vlad.

Jack-o’-lantern. Bones. Black feathers. Rattlesnake tail. Coffin.

The warning wouldn’t have changed anything, even if he’d known about it earlier, but he wondered what else might be headed their way.