Crowbones

CHAPTER 15

Vicki

Thaisday, Novembros 1

Soon after Julian and Natasha drove off to meet Grimshaw and Ilya in Sproing, I heard the outer porch door open. Thinking it was the guests in the lake cabins coming for breakfast, I didn’t look up from making butter curls and berry balls before I said, “Come on in. The coffee is fresh and hot, and there’s . . .”

In hindsight, it was more than foolish to invite anyone in without knowing whom I was inviting in, although I hadn’t met anything in The Jumble that needed an invitation to enter a building. Having locked doors and windows—or walls or a roof—wasn’t much of a deterrent to something big enough that it could huff and puff and blow your house down.

I looked up and stared at four Sanguinati youngsters, all neatly dressed in black.

“Good morning,” the gorgeous teenage girl said. “I am Kira. This is Lara.”

The younger girl gave me a full-fanged smile and seemed delighted to be standing in my kitchen.

I really hoped she wasn’t hungry.

“I am Viktor,” the next generation’s Mr. Yummy said. “And this is Karol.”

Karol was the other Sanguinati male I’d seen last night. He seemed to be in that age bracket of young teen who wanted to look and act mature, especially around the gorgeous girl, but also wanted to run off and explore every room in the main house. I had a pretty good idea how the Cornleys would react if they suddenly found a teenage boy standing next to their bed asking questions about their morning aerobics.

“Does Ilya know you’re here?” I asked. “Or Natasha?”

None of them had a poker face.

“They didn’t say we couldn’t come and visit,” Kira said.

A chill ran down my spine as I thought about the partially eaten donkey that had been found too close to the main house, and the weirdness that had spooked the Crows last night. The Crowgard were noticeably absent this morning, but the Hawks were outside keeping an eye on things—including my potentially delicious guests.

I heard laughter and voices, male and female, heading toward the house. Jenna McKay was doing the donkey-cart tour with Bobcat this morning—assuming there was another donkey in The Jumble’s small herd that was tame enough to pull the cart. Conan was confident that the guests would be safe, but Cougar would follow them. Just in case.

Immediate problem first. “How did you reach The Jumble?”

“We crossed the lake in our smoke form,” Lara said, sounding pleased with herself.

“Does anyone know you’ve come to visit?”

Really, there wasn’t a poker face in the bunch.

“You want us to leave?” Kira asked, clearly disappointed by my unenthusiastic reception.

“No.” I blew out a breath. Besides being my attorney and CPA, Ilya and Natasha were friends and had done a great deal to help me maintain my claim on The Jumble during the trouble this past summer. Now they needed me to step up to this particular line. “It may be different among the Sanguinati, but when human youngsters leave their house to visit friends, they tell an adult where they are going and who they are going to see. Otherwise, adults worry.”

What was that saying about asking for forgiveness rather than permission? I had a feeling the young Sanguinati were operating on that principle.

“An important tip,” I said as the outer porch door opened. “You should never stand between a human and the coffeepot first thing in the morning.”

Three adult humans opened the kitchen door and stared at four Sanguinati youngsters before the Sanguinati stepped out of the way with a politely murmured good morning.

“Help yourself to breakfast,” I said, waving toward the partially prepared offerings. I looked at Viktor, who appeared to be the oldest teenager. He gave me an amused smile and nodded to indicate message received.

No snacking on the guests.

I hurried to my office, figuring this needed to be a private conversation. I unlocked the office door, stepped inside, then called Silence Lodge.

“What?” The male Sanguinati who answered the phone snarled at me, and I flinched. It was an ingrained response to male aggression that I was working to overcome. At least I hadn’t slid into a full-blown anxiety attack, so that was progress.

Reminding myself that he wasn’t mad at me—yet—and that he was on the other side of the lake, I braced one hand on my desk. “This is Vicki. They’re here and they’re fine.”

A beat of silence. Then . . .

Maybe the Sanguinati don’t have their own swearwords. Or maybe they’ve decided that human swearwords are more . . . fulfilling. Either way, it was like listening to someone play building blocks with short, pithy words while my anxiety kicked in and rose toward meltdown.

Then the male voice disappeared and a female voice that sounded slightly calmer said, “Ms. DeVine? Our fosterlings are with you?”

I let out a shaky breath. “They came over for a visit and forgot to leave a note for the grown-ups.”

“One moment, please.”

While I waited for whatever she was doing on her end, it occurred to me that the youngsters could have used terra indigene communication to tell the adults at Silence Lodge about their destination. They could have received communication telling them to come home.

Of course, if you don’t answer, no one can prove you heard.

“Ms. DeVine? If it would not inconvenience you, could the youngsters stay with you this morning?”

“I’m not sure what they’ll find of interest to do over here, but they can stay.” A thought occurred to me. “One of my guests is doing the donkey-cart tour of The Jumble this morning. Could they do that too?”

Another pause, probably for discussion. Either the adults at Silence Lodge didn’t remember their youth or they did remember their youth and that was why they were all panicking now.

“The older ones could do that if they choose,” she said, addressing me again. “The younger female needs . . . firmer authority . . . and should not be on her own for long.”

Firmer authority would be me? Were they joking?

Apparently not, since she thanked me and hung up.

Back in the kitchen, breakfast was going on in full swing, with Jenna McKay showing Lara and Kira how to use the small melon scoop to make jam balls for individual servings, while Michael and Ian Stern chatted with Viktor and Karol about Trickster Night. The men’s eyes strayed toward Kira, who really was gorgeous, but they kept their distance from the girls, which indicated they had a healthy survival instinct.

Someone had scrambled some eggs for general consumption. Someone had located the leftover pizza and warmed up a couple of pieces in the wave-cooker before slicing them into smaller pieces.

Everyone stopped talking when I entered the kitchen.

“You have permission to stay and visit,” I told the Sanguinati. I waved a hand to indicate Kira, Viktor, and Karol. “You three may join the donkey-cart tour if you would like to do that.”

“But we want—” Lara began.

“To stay and help Miss Victoria,” Kira finished.

She exchanged a glance with Viktor. Something about that look struck me as conspiratorial and gave my anxiety a twitch. Since I couldn’t figure out what two teenage Sanguinati would conspire about that involved me, I put that anxiety down to leftover emotion caused by the snarling vampire on the phone.

“Yes,” Viktor said. “We are here to visit Miss Victoria today.”

Okeydokey.

I was making the third pot of coffee and wondering where I was going to put all the little bowls of jam balls—because everyone had to have a turn at making at least one ball—when more of my guests wandered into the kitchen, looking for food.

The Cornleys, who had been watching the tricksters arrive in their “costumes,” looked at the Sanguinati and had the sudden understanding that not all the costumes had been costumes. And the Sanguinati, probably picking up accelerated breathing and heartbeat and whatever other signals prey gives off before being eaten, suddenly looked like the young predators they were. A stillness in all four of them. A focused look in the dark eyes.

Ian Stern clapped his hands loudly and said, “Is there any toast?”

The tableau broken, Kira turned away from the Cornleys and said, “I can make it. I have seen how the toaster machine works.” She looked at Michael and Ian. “Two pieces?”

They nodded. Suddenly everyone was in motion, except the Cornleys, who were impersonating frozen bunnies. I guess they hadn’t expected to get an up-close-and-personal look at the Others—or have the Others look at them. Which made me wonder if they’d understood the nature of The Jumble or had just seen it as a place where they could go for a rustic getaway.

I sidled over to them and suggested they go into the dining room, which was a quiet spot in the morning, and I would bring them something to eat.

As I put together a tray for my skittish guests, Jenna McKay showed Viktor how to make scrambled eggs. Once they were cooked, she plated some of the eggs for herself, then gave another plate to the youngsters so they could all have a taste. Lara and Karol clearly didn’t like the eggs but knew enough not to spit out the food. Viktor’s and Kira’s expressions were carefully neutral.

Then Bobcat walked into the kitchen and spotted what was left of the Sanguinati’s share of scrambled eggs.

“Use a spoon, please,” I said in time to stop him from using a digity paw to scoop butter curls out of the bowl. After he’d spooned up a couple of jam balls as well, I handed him a fork.

Watching him add butter and jam to each bite of scrambled eggs, Lara found a fork and followed his example, exclaiming happily over the changed taste. If Bobcat had been hungry, he probably would have snarled her away from his plate. I figured he was already full from eating dead donkey and this was his sweet after the meal—and something he was willing to share.

I didn’t have room on the tray for mugs and the coffeepot, but I didn’t have to make a second trip to the dining room because Michael Stern said, “Let me give you a hand with that,” and grabbed the coffeepot and two mugs.

I set out the food for the Cornleys, and Michael poured the coffee.

He stopped me on the way back to the kitchen, and as soon as his hand lightly touched my arm, my brain got ready to panic even though his touch wasn’t the least bit threatening.

“Julian Farrow is a friend of yours?” Michael asked.

Feeling wary, I nodded.

“You know he gets feelings about things?”

“We all get feelings about things.” My response was instinctive, protective, a way to hide what I knew about Julian. I wished I was the one holding the coffeepot, in case I needed to whack my guest.

“My cousin and I get feelings,” Michael said, watching me. “We have that in common with Julian.”

I realized he was wary too. He was offering a secret in a place that wasn’t home.

“Oh. Those feelings.” I hadn’t realized Michael and Ian Stern were Intuits, but to avoid persecution, Intuits usually hid their ability to sense things about their surroundings. “It must have been a strange night for you.”

He let out a soft, surprised laugh. “It was fascinating. And terrifying.”

“And . . . ?” I prodded, since it seemed he had more to say. I decided it was best to cut through cryptic talking since he had the coffeepot and someone was going to come looking for it soon. “What should I tell Julian?”

“Duplicity. We felt it last night, but not this morning.”

He was telling me someone was deceitful, or had been last night, but it wasn’t one of my guests. Which meant it was either someone staying at the Mill Creek Cabins or one of the tricksters who had come to The Jumble last night.

Or it was one of the Others? Something out there had caused Aggie, Jozi, and Eddie to retreat into their feathered form.

“And the girl. Kira. Tell Julian . . . honey trap. Not quite true in the usual sense, but true nonetheless.”

I wondered if Kira was being labeled—and blamed for men’s naughty thoughts—because she was gorgeous, but Michael seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’ll tell him.” I took a step toward the kitchen. He moved with me.

“I like your place. It feels welcoming—in a strange, adventurous sort of way.” He smiled.

“Wasn’t that what you were looking for? A bit of adventure?”

“We were. Are you open year-round?”

“Yes, but just the two suites in the main house and the two upgraded cabins. There are some . . . very rustic . . . cabins available for human guests in the summer.”

“Would those cabins be considered highly adventurous?”

I thought about the residents in some of those cabins. “Oh yes.”

When we returned to the kitchen, Aggie was at the sink, her uniform sleeves rolled up as she explained dish washing to Kira.

“How are you?” I asked her.

Terror still filled her dark eyes. “Eddie saw . . . last night. Crowbones is here.”

“Well, Chief Grimshaw will figure out who played that nasty trick.”

“No, he won’t. Chief Grimshaw is human. He can’t . . .” She turned away from me and ferociously scrubbed an already clean plate.

I turned to my Intuit guests. “If you want to see some of The Jumble today, you can join the donkey-cart tour.” I was told the cart could hold four people. Nobody actually said the donkey could pull the cart if it had four people.

I’d let Bobcat figure that out.

“Best not to walk the trails alone today?” Michael asked.

“Best not,” I agreed.

“Karol and I could walk down to the beach with your guests,” Viktor offered. “It’s open ground from the house to the sand. Or the dock.” He looked at the men. “The dock at The Jumble has become a significant place in the stories about Lake Silence.”

“Umm . . . ,” I said.

“Ilya says it is permissible to recount those events as long as we don’t embellish.”

I would have one or two things to say to my attorney about recounting. “Go ahead. Show them the dock and recount.”

Viktor grinned at me, revealing a hint of fang. That startled the men, but they must have realized they weren’t in any danger, because they followed Viktor and Karol out the door.

I looked around. “Where is Lara?” Had I lost the vampire that required firmer authority?

“Jozi is showing her the library,” Kira said. “Ilya was going to take us to Lettuce Reed to choose books, but I don’t think that will happen today. Jozi said you had books Lara might like to read. That is permitted?” She looked anxious, which increased my doubts about Michael Stern’s feeling about the girl—and helped me believe that my interpretation of the look I’d seen Kira give Viktor earlier was mistaken.

“Yes, that is permitted,” I said. “I think she’ll like the Wolf Team books.” All the terra indigene enjoyed the stories about a group of adolescents with special skills who helped beings in trouble. I turned back to Aggie. “What is Eddie doing?”

“He is dusting the wooden floors,” Aggie said. “He was going to use the vacuum cleaner, but that is too noisy.”

“Because it would disturb the guests?”

Aggie gave me a look that chilled me. “Because you wouldn’t be able to hear someone coming up behind you.”