by Sarah Noffke
“Hawaii, you say?” Liv questioned. “I heard they have a problem with pirates.”
He smiled, undeterred. “Pirates don’t bother me. I think we could really use some warm weather and good vibes. Hawaii is perfect because we can stay with the elves, which is nice because when we’re around mortals, we can’t relax since we feel the need to help them.”
“That makes sense.”
“Okay, now what brings you here, my dear friend, Warrior Beaufont?”
“Actually, it’s about mortals…” She told him the full story of why she was there and what she needed. The brownie was quiet for a long moment, tapping on his chin as he deliberated.
“Papa Creola is right,” he finally said. “My brownies will have noticed unusual activity and made note of it. Let me check the names on the list.”
He glanced at the list she’d given him of the Mortal Seven, typing as he did. “It appears that nothing strange is happening around any of these families at the…oh, wait.”
Liv leaned forward suddenly. “Oh, wait, as in…”
“Oh, wait, as in one of the families has had several unexplained deaths recently.”
“Recently?” Liv asked.
“They all occurred on the same day,” he explained.
“That’s strange. Why would…” Liv’s voice trailed off as she figured it out. If someone was trying to get rid of the Mortal Seven, taking out everyone in the family would be the way to do that, like in her own family. There were only three Beaufonts remaining. Adler Sinclair had seen to that, because with no more Beaufonts, there would be no problems. He had underestimated them, though.
“This family? What’s their name?” she asked.
He scribbled something on a piece of paper. “The surname is Reynolds. Many of the family members will be at the group funeral for those who passed tonight. I realize it’s not the best place to do your detective work, but you’ll have a ton of Reynoldses in one room. That will be a great chance to see if you can determine if one of them is a Mortal Seven.”
“So I’m going to crash a funeral?” Liv asked. “This is a new low.”
“If you don’t, I fear more in the Reynolds family will die,” Mortimer stated. “From the report I’ve read from my brownies, the members of this family appear to be targets.”
“But your brownies didn’t see who killed these people?” Liv asked.
“They did, actually, but it won’t help you.”
Liv lowered her chin. “Why?”
“Because they were illusions,” he answered.
“Your brownies can spot those?” Liv questioned.
“Oh, yes. It helps us to stay away from them, but in this situation, it will do you little good.”
“Right, because how do I know who to go after when they can change at will?” Liv related.
“Exactly,” Mortimer said, apology in his tone. “I’ll continue to research the other names on the list you gave me, and hope to have more leads for you soon. Then I can hand them off to you, along with Ticker.”
Liv forced a smile, nodding. “That sounds great.”
Chapter Thirty
Liv stood outside Trinity Reynolds’ cottage. It was located off the coast of Brighton, England. The salty air reminded Liv her recent adventures at sea. She still felt like the ground rocked under her feet sometimes, as if she were on the Serena.
“So what’s going to be your cover story?” Plato asked, materializing at her side.
The shade of the large tree overhead concealed them a bit from view. Most of the family had filed into the house twenty minutes ago, and none had left yet. Liv needed to move, but the idea of invading a family’s privacy during a tender moment after a funeral didn’t feel right.
“I was going to go with the long-lost relative from London story,” she said, making her best attempt at a British accent.
Plato grimaced. “What can I do to get you to reconsider?”
“Tell me this deep dark secret of yours.”
He shook his head. “No deal. But seriously, that’s the worst British accent I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, right-o,” Liv said, slinging her hand through the air and snapping her fingers. “I thought it was the bee’s knees. You know, a bloody good job. Bob’s your uncle.”
Plato shuddered. “There are so many things wrong with what you’re doing right now.”
“Blimey,” Liv said, refusing to drop the horrid accent. “I guess I’ll just have to pretend to be a nutter who is lost. Maybe a Scouser who showed up at the wrong address.”
“Please stop,” Plato begged.
“Because it’s so unbelievably good that you’re forgetting it’s really me speaking?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”
“Oh, well, this went to shambles,” Liv said, keeping the accent going just to mess with the lynx. “I don’t want the family to think I’m dodgy, you know? A real bugger. A plonker, if you will.”
Plato lifted his paw, trying to cover one of his ears with it. “Have you considered just being yourself?”
Liv gave him a mock expression of surprise. “Great idea. I’ll just pop in there and tell them I’m a Warrior for the House of Fourteen and I’m looking for the chosen one among them.”
“It’s a good plan,” he stated dryly.
“I’ll line up the family while they are grieving multiple losses in their family and say I’m looking for the person among them with the purest heart. This will result in zero feuds in the future. I’m sure of it.”
Plato lowered his head. “When you put it that way…”
“Oh, but that won’t be all,” Liv continued. “Since none of these people from the Reynolds family will think I’m loony yet, I’ll have them go get their family pet and bring it to me. If they don’t have a pet, they are disqualified from the running because they are obviously soulless.”
“I’m certain you’ve made your point,” Plato stated.
Liv held up a hand to pause him. “And once their little furry babies are lined up, I’ll sing to each one until the chimera transforms. And bam, then I’ll portal the Mortal Seven from the Reynolds family away to the House of Fourteen, confident that the relatives won’t speak about this, drawing unwanted attention to things.”
“Yes, go with the long-lost relative story. But you can’t be from London,” Plato advised.
“Wales, then?” Liv asked in an even worst Welsh accent.
Plato cringed. “I was thinking American. That way, you don’t have to use an accent.”
Liv crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to pout. “I never get to have any fun.”
“You just fought pirates,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Everyone gets to do that.”
“Before the pirates,” Plato continued, “you got to take a swamp tour. Your life is full of fun.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Liv sighed. “I wanted to pretend to be British. They are so much more sophisticated than everyone else.”
“I think you’ve been watching too much BBC television.”
She shook her head. “There’s no such thing. It’s the best thing on the telly.”
“Oh, good. You’re doing the accent again,” Plato said, zero enthusiasm in his voice.
“Okay, old chap. I’m off to Bedfordshire.” Liv waved, starting for the house.
“No, you’re not,” he called.
She snickered. “I know. I’ve just lost the plot. Been like this for a fortnight.”
“Oh, just sod off,” Plato said before disappearing.
Liv drew a breath as she pushed the door open. She’d thought about using a disguise, but she was actually dressed perfectly for the solemn affair in her all-black clothing. And she needed to have Bellator by her side, just in case there were illusions running around the reception, trying to take out more of the Reynolds family.
Many of the people in the room turned to look at Liv when she slipped into the crowded living area. Most were holding small plates of hors d'oeuvre
s and little glasses of sherry. Liv flashed those studying her polite smiles, starting to doubt the plan. Who would bring their pet to a funeral? Pickles did usually follow John everywhere he went, but he was a cute little terrier who was easy to transport. What if the chimera had taken the form of a horse or an alpaca? She didn’t expect their chimera to be following its Mortal Seven around.
“Thank you for coming,” a woman said at Liv’s back. She turned to find a woman who was wearing a hat with a bird on it. Liv’s spirits rose momentarily until she realized the bird was stuffed. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Trinity Reynolds.”
Liv nodded, taking the woman’s hand. “Hello, I’m Biv.”
“Biv?” the woman asked, confusion in her eyes.
“Yes, Biv Leaufont. Distant relative of the family.”
Trinity nodded like this was perfectly acceptable. “Well, Cousin Leaufont, it’s good to have you, although the circumstances could be better. Peggy and Paul were such wonderful people.” The woman leaned close, her hat nearly assaulting Liv’s face. “I think this will be hardest on Ireland.” She pointed through the crowd at a young man with short brown hair who was all arms and legs. He was petting a large orange cat, who looked up right then, staring straight at Liv with a pensive gaze.
“Ireland Reynolds,” Liv said mostly to herself. “Is that his cat?”
“Oh, yes,” Trinity said. “I hope you don’t mind, but there are a few pets here. That’s how we Reynoldses do it. Many of us used to be in the circus, and some think that’s why we’ve got such a connection to animals.”
Liv nodded, glancing around and noticing how strange the members of this family were all of a sudden. There was a fellow in front of her who was wearing a bowler hat, a life vest, and a pair of snow boots.
“I’ve been ready for this magical world to come alive for decades,” the man confided to the woman beside him. “People all up and down my block are complaining they see the strangest things lately. I’m like, join the club. I’ve seen that stuff all along.”
“Oh, me too, Scotty,” the woman beside him said, nodding as she petted her purse dog. It was a tiny thing that was shaking, the little pink bow on its head vibrating.
Well, I definitely have the right family, Liv thought. Now I just need to start singing to the pets.
In any other place with any other people, and that would be weird. However, Liv strangely thought that with this crowd she could get away with it.
“Who is the American?” a guy with entirely too much cologne asked, coming up between Liv and Trinity. He was wearing a stained T-shirt, a frayed suit jacket, and a yellow scarf.
Liv had been around strange people her whole life, living in the House, but she’d never seen this many freaks. It made her strangely feel at home.
“This is Biv,” Trinity said, holding her hand out to present Liv.
“Biv?” the guy asked. “What’s that short for?”
Liv thought really fast and spewed, “Biverian.”
“Biverian,” the guy repeated with a laugh.
Liv tensed, wondering if her cover had just been blown.
“She’s a Reynolds, all right,” he said, extending a hand. “You have the strange name to prove it. I’m Jester because my parents couldn’t go with a simple Bob or William. Oh no, I had to be Jester.”
Liv nodded sympathetically. “So, are you in the circus then?”
He smiled broadly and a python’s head peeked over his shoulder. Liv realized the scarf hanging around his neck wasn’t cloth, but rather the thick body of a yellow reptile that had part of its body under Jester’s suit jacket. “Yes, Queen and I have a brilliant act.”
“So this is your snake, Queen?” Liv asked as the red eyes of the serpent watched her.
“Yes, and I’m her jester. Get it?” he asked.
She nodded. This was her guy. He had to be. A guy who performed with his snake in the circus. She’d be out of there in no time. This was going to be much easier than she suspected.
“Jester, would you mind showing me to the kitchen?” Liv asked. “I’m starving, and would like to grab a plate.”
He nodded, holding out an arm for her to take. When she was about to, the snake made a hissing sound, a strange menace in its eyes. She assumed the chimera was being protective since it didn’t know her and probably sensed her magic. Liv smiled politely and declined the offered arm.
Once they were in the kitchen, Liv was grateful that she thought to bring Jester there. No one else was in there at the moment, which gave her a perfect opportunity to transform his chimera. Clearing her throat, Liv allowed the song of the chimera to flow from her mouth. She didn’t know the words she sang or even how she sang them, but when she needed them, they sprang from her mouth, just like right then.
When the song was done, Jester bowed and clapped. “Well, I see you want in on my act. I think we can consider—”
Queen hissed, cutting him off.
“Maybe we can discuss this later. It appears it’s feeding time,” Jester said, scratching the top of his snake’s head like it was a cuddly puppy.
It had taken Pickles a little bit to transform, although it had been less than a minute. Intently, she stared at Jester and Queen, waiting for the transformation to happen.
When nothing happened, Liv deflated. “Feed Queen. I’ll go and meet more of your relatives.”
“Okay,” Jester said, holding Queen’s head up and making kissing gestures at her mouth. “But just so you know, they are all really nuts.”
“Noted,” Liv said, shooting him side eye as she returned to the living room.
Chapter Thirty-One
Liv went and found the lady with the purse dog. She was talking to a young man who had shifty eyes and black hair that fell over his forehead.
“What’s your dog’s name?” Liv asked the woman, noticing that the dog’s teeth were bared and it appeared halfway between growling and passing out.
“This is Cookie,” the woman said.
“Oh, she’s a…cute thing,” Liv finally said, not sure what to say about the animal who didn’t seem quite right.
“She’s old,” the guy beside her said.
Liv perked up. Old was good. Pickles had been over thirty years old because the chimera who guarded the Mortal Seven were immortal. “Oh, really? How old is Cookie?”
“She’s ten years old,” the woman answered.
“Oh,” Liv said, deflating again. It wasn’t that this was bad news, it just didn’t seal the deal like Pickles.
The dog yapped at the guy with black hair when he went to pet her.
“Mikey, the dog doesn’t like you,” the guy named Ireland said, stepping into the conversation.
“I don’t know why,” Mikey stated, pulling his hand back from the dog with a scowl.
“Probably because you shot your bb gun at her, like you did to Harry all those times,” Ireland stated, crossing his lanky arms over his chest.
“Harry is your…” Liv asked.
The guy glanced at her, apparently now noticing she was there. He straightened. “Hello. My apologies. I’m Ireland Reynolds. Sorry for not introducing myself properly.”
Liv extended her hand to him. “I’m Biv Leaufont.”
Ireland didn’t take her hand. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and gave her a look of uncertainty. “Did you mean to misspeak?”
Liv didn’t know what to say to this, so she simply repeated her question. “Harry is…”
“Oh,” Ireland said, looking around. “I’m not sure where that cat is.” He gave Mikey an accusing glare. “Did you do something to him again?”
“Noooo,” Mikey said, his eyes shifting. “Not that it ever worked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mikey?” Ireland asked.
“I’ve been trying to nail that cat with a bb for ages. He’s too fast,” the other guy admitted.
“I can’t believe you,” Ireland said, throwing his arms up in the air. “You just won’t be happy
until you get your target.”
“It’s just a joke,” Mikey stated. “I’m not even trying.”
“Ages?” Liv asked. “Did you say ages?”
The two guys appeared absorbed in their own conversation, not paying attention to Liv or asking her questions.
“It’s just harmless fun,” Mikey argued, his fists by his sides.
“Was it harmless when you nailed that bird with your bb gun?” Ireland asked him.
Mikey glared to the side. “I didn’t know it would hurt it.”
“That’s what happens when you play with weapons, Mikey,” Ireland said, his voice rising, gaining the attention of other people standing nearby. “Animals, people…everyone gets hurt. That’s why we have to be careful, taking care of each other rather than going about willy-nilly, pretending like our attempts at fun and power don’t influence one another.”
Liv had heard few talk like Ireland. He sounded…he sounded like John. Well, if her boss had made a speech, which he wouldn’t because that wasn’t his style.
Liv couldn’t help herself. She grabbed Ireland by the sleeve of the shirt and hauled him into the kitchen, aware that everyone was watching.
“Hey! Whatcha? Come on, now!” the guy complained, clawing at her hand but not making contact.
“I just need a word,” Liv said to him, smiling discreetly at the others in the crowd as she passed. “Little cousin rivalry between Ireland and Mikey that I need to resolve. A cousin’s job as a mediator is never done.”
When she released Ireland in the kitchen, he glanced around suddenly, looking for Mikey or others. “We’re not cousins. And what did you mean…wait, who are you?”
“It’s not important,” Liv stated. “This cat. Harry, is it?”
Ireland simply gave her a challenging expression.
“Okay, let’s start over. You’ve lost your sister and your brother,” Liv began. “I’m incredibly sorry. I know it’s not easy. I’ve been there.”
“You lost your siblings?” Ireland asked, his voice suddenly coated in empathy. It was quite the shift but appeared completely genuine.
“And my parents,” Liv stated.
