by Sara Hanover
“Mom probably has one in the fridge.” I negotiated the turn into the drive.
* * *
• • •
We were into a batch of newly baked biscuits when Mom came downstairs. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Evelyn sitting at the kitchen table, her leg up and one foot resting on the seat of another chair. She steered to the fridge and made herself an iced tea. “Trouble . . . or should I even ask?”
“You know that Confederate flag—”
“The great big one? The only thing good about it is that the loblolly pines hide half of it.”
“It’s down.”
“Oh, really?” She toasted Evelyn. “Then you fought the good battle. I respect Southern pride, but I have a stopping point.” She sat down carefully, leaving the next chair empty so as not to jostle her leg. “Battle injury?”
“Riot.”
“Oh, my. Your father know yet?”
“He has a business and prayer meeting this morning, but he’ll be over soon.”
“Be sure and tell me when the thundercloud gets here.”
Evelyn and I grinned, and I passed Mom the biscuit plate. She sliced one open deftly and slathered it with butter. “If he gives you any trouble, Evie, I’ll run interference.”
“I think he already knew and my mother already has, but thanks.”
“Any time.” Mom traded looks with me. The guys should be showing up any time soon to make Eye of Nimora retrieval plans. The strategy session would have to be postponed until she left. I gave her a slight shrug, which Evelyn didn’t catch because she eyed the biscuits.
“You’ve only had one,” I told her.
“One should be enough.”
I fingered the tear in her jeans. “Oh, like you’re busting out all over.”
She snorted.
I pushed the plate over. “They’re small.”
They weren’t. We don’t make small biscuits at the Andrews house. We make ginormous biscuits that would fill Hiram Broadstone’s palm if he held one. Not to mention mouth-meltingly good.
I passed along some fine, homemade peach jam to go with. And sat back to watch Evelyn do battle with herself, glad that she had something else to fret over.
She’d just about devoured all but a few crumbs when the house trembled slightly. I could hear the front door opening.
“Hello the house.”
“Hiram’s here.”
Evelyn grabbed for a napkin to wipe her mouth and fingers off. She would have bolted to her feet, but instead let out a little cry when the foot of her injured leg hit the floor as she tried to stand. She pitched my way, and I grabbed her up even as Hiram came in.
Their gazes met across the room.
I realized I could no longer say that I didn’t believe in love at first sight because I was seeing it happen. Hiram, taller than the average Iron Dwarf, straightened in his black, shiny boots and working man garb, put his chin up and his hand out long before he got close enough to touch hers, as if he couldn’t resist. His auburn hair curled neatly behind his ears, just above his shoulders, and his warm brown eyes took her in as though no one else stood in the room with them. Evelyn pushed away from me a little bit as if she intended to stand on her own two legs, her blond hair swinging about to tangle gracefully down her back. Her makeshift ice bag dropped, forgotten, to the floor. Her gray-blue eyes locked onto his face and stayed there, and her hand drifted up to take his in response.
“Mmm. You don’t want to be doing this.”
Neither of them heard me. My mother’s iced tea glass clattered in the kitchen sink as she put it there, and it sounded like a firehouse alarm bell, but they didn’t notice.
“I’m Hiram Broadstone,” he said, deep tones ringing. “A friend of the Andrews.” He made it sound like a testament to his good standing, and maybe it was. Neither Mom nor I suffered fools, but still . . .
“You must be a linebacker.” Evelyn smiled, a genuine smile, the first ray of true happiness I’d seen from her since I picked her up.
“Sorry, no, miss. I’m in construction and mining. Broadstone Family Enterprises?”
“Oh! I’ve heard of you. You’re doing part of the restoration on the Washington Monument!”
A becoming blush tinted his face. He’d had a small, neat auburn beard until very recently. In fact, I’d guess that he’d clean-shaved just that morning, and his face bloomed slightly. It was almost as if he’d known he would be meeting his own true love. “That would be us.”
She limped forward a step. “I’m Evelyn Statler, Tessa’s friend.”
Their hands touched. His engulfed hers tenderly, and his eyebrows drew down in concern. “But you’re injured. Please, sit down.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Evelyn fidgeted with the torn flap of her jeans a moment, but it didn’t look like “nothing.”
He ushered her to the nearest chair and settled her. “You’re hurt! Tessa, what happened?”
“It’s all right, Hiram, the hospital released her this morning. It’s a heavy contusion, but she’ll be fine—”
“Miss Statler is not fine if she’s in pain.” He let go of her hand and strode to the base of the stairs. “Brian! We have a guest who needs you. Bring something for pain down with you!”
The house shivered again, in vibration with his voice, and then it was Evelyn’s turn to color, her face warming.
Brian came down hastily, almost took himself out on the bottom step as he saw Evelyn beyond in the kitchen, and Hiram took hold of the envelope in the professor’s hand.
“Just a half teaspoon,” he cautioned. “In a drink of some kind. And, ah, good morning, Evelyn.”
“Hi, Bri,” she answered faintly, her attention still on Hiram as he got a glass and fixed her a cold drink with the potion shook into it, the guys knowing our kitchen just about as well as anybody in the household. She took it and began to drink.
I grabbed Brian by the shirtsleeve and asked quietly, “You’re not stoning her or anything.”
“Of course not. It’s just soothing.”
“And how soothed is she going to be?”
Brian watched, eyes getting a little bigger, as she basically chugged her entire glass without taking a breath. “Very. But that will pass.”
Good lord. I didn’t need to have Statler breathing down my neck because his daughter was higher than a kite.
Hiram swept her up out of the chair. “I think the couch is the best place for you, to keep the leg elevated.” He took her into the living room where he deposited her gently, the rest of us trailing behind.
Brian whispered to me, “What just happened here?”
“You have as much of a clue as I do.” I looked at Brian then, thinking of both the souls in one body, and amended, “Or maybe you don’t. But I think they fell in love.” He stumbled, jolting into me. I gripped his shoulder as he straightened himself out. “I know.”
“This can’t be.”
“Tell me about it. Her father’s coming to get her, but I think it may already be too late.”
He raised his hand and whispered, “Somnus.”
Evelyn suddenly yawned. “Oh, excuse me.”
“Think nothing of it.” Hiram leaned close and touched the back of her wrist. “Rest, it will do you good,” whereupon, as if she’d turned into Sleeping Beauty, Evie dropped into sleep. Hiram squinted a suspicious look at Brian as he turned around and passed us going to the dining/conference room.
Muttering, “Wish I’d thought of that,” I met my mother in the kitchen, cleared breakfast things up, and sorted items out for lunch. Hiram excused himself and came back in with two grocery bags brimming with goods, recognizing the expense of feeding a small army, or at least a couple of guys who could eat like a small army. “I almost forgot that I’d brought these.” He helped Mom put everything away and by the time they were done
, Evelyn’s father arrived, we exchanged information over her condition, and he escorted her to their very nice and expensive sedan out front.
Evie waved a hand at Hiram, ignored the rest of us, and promptly went back to sleep in the front seat. We watched them pull away, Statler’s forehead creased in concern, with no one conscious to yell at.
“How long is that going to last?”
“The somnus? Maybe another fifteen minutes. The potion should be in effect most of the day. That will be all right?”
“That’ll do,” my mother told him. “Although you should have done it sooner.”
Brian coughed. “I’m getting the Andrews in stereo.”
He stopped grumbling when the smell of home cooking wafted through the house. We almost had everything ready and Carter had joined us when I heard the hoot of an owl coming from somewhere in the backyard.
The professor’s eyes met mine.
“Is there something we should know about?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
COMPANY
I TOSSED MY NAPKIN on the table. “Company’s here. I think.”
“An owl rarely hoots at midday.”
“I know, right?” I got up and scooted out the backdoor. The screen door clattered a second time and Carter caught up with me, saying, “I’m coming with.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“Protective.”
Heavy dew still sparkled on the grass and dampened the toes of my sneakers as we strode across the yard, him matching steps with me. “Which reminds me, I need to discuss a theory Steptoe has with you.”
He looked down at me. “What theory might that be?”
“Something about the professor.”
“That should be interesting.” His attention moved. “It’s definitely Germanigold.”
And indeed, the harpy leader sat on the edge of our garage roof, her wings folded, and booted ankles crossed, watching as we drew closer.
“You expected her.”
“I hoped. She told me about the harpy communication system.”
We both craned our heads back, calling out our greetings. She sketched a wave. “Tessa and the young lion. Good morrow.”
I shot Carter a tiny look. He didn’t appear lion-ish. No amber eyes, no wavy tawny hair, nothing in that off-set tiny scar in his chin . . . maybe something in the way he moved. Was she watching his shoulder muscles ripple under his shirt the way I was? Or was it something else? I wondered if she knew something I didn’t.
“You asked for a word with me?”
“In case you hadn’t heard, and I know you have a network, but I thought you should hear it from me—we located the Eye last night, but it was taken by Devian and his crew.”
“I understand you lost a skirmish. It’s no wonder . . . the elves have been quiescent for a while now, and it is easy to underestimate them.” She spoke directly to Carter then. “You have plans to reclaim the item?”
“We do.”
“I wish you fortune on that, then. We both know how vital it is, but the family Broadstone has kept its virtues secret for many decades, so it’s possible Devian doesn’t quite know what he has, even though there is a bounty on it and a decree to obstruct justice. He may think he simply has an enormous jewel worth a king’s ransom.”
“We’re banking on that.”
“Excellent. I have news for you both, as well.” She hopped down from the roof’s edge, landing lightly. “We have elicited a few interesting facts. There was a betrayal in the House of Broadstone although I have no definitive name yet, but information was given out that I had the Eye of Nimora. Less than a handful of people, that I’m familiar with, knew that was Morty’s bridal gift to me.”
“Would Hiram know the others?”
“Tessa, he is one of the five. I would not count him out of trouble, and I will not confide in him of the other names I know. Are you certain of his loyalty?”
“Any day.” I would trust Hiram as I had his father Mortimer, but a tiny voice inside reminded me that Morty had betrayed us on that fateful trip to New York City. Was I as sure as I thought? But, as far as naming names, I’d discovered the hard way years ago that there were always more people in on a secret than there were supposed to be.
“From House Broadstone, then to my nest, where my sister eagerly plotted a coup of her own to displace me and put me in the hands of Judge Maxwell, bring Mortimer to a downfall, and turn the Eye over to an agent for sale. From what I gathered from her coconspirators, she never knew exactly what it’s capable of, but she knew a treasure when she saw it.”
“She just wanted the money?”
Goldie gave a little smile my way. “It takes money to fund a coup. More money to build a new nest. Property is expensive here in the northeast.”
So . . . they didn’t actually build nests somewhere. They bought houses, probably big ones, since their family sounded like a commune, and you bet that could be expensive. I kicked myself mentally for thinking of twigs and such making a harpy’s home.
Germanigold stretched an arm out. “Remember these five,” and she recited the names. I knew two, but the other three meant nothing to me, nor did they to Carter evidently who made a noncommittal hrmmm when she finished. I did find myself relieved that most of Hiram’s home redo crew weren’t on the short list. I’d liked all of them who’d come to work on our cellar. I found it hard to believe that Goldie thought she’d found a traitor in the Broadstone dynasty. Perhaps she’d been led astray. The magical side of the street didn’t operate all that differently from the human side, I’d discovered. Petty grievances, lying, envy, and so forth seemed universal. There seemed to be an imbalance, though, because I hadn’t really found any saintlike qualities on their side. Not that we had all that many on ours, but a few hit the commendable roll.
“When are you making your move?” she asked of Carter.
“Tonight, I believe. We really haven’t any time to waste. If Devian considers breaking the ruby up to make it easier to sell, he could destroy it as a magical relic. We’ve given him a decoy use for the gem, based on what he already supposes, and we’re confident he’ll take the bait.”
She nodded. “You do what you must, and if you need me, there are ways to reach me.”
“Besides owl?”
She winked at me. “The lion here knows many ways to reach those he has to.” Then, with a leap, she launched herself up, her wings came out, and she soared off over the canopy of trees dotting the neighborhood.
Carter and I watched her go before I turned to him. “Suppose anybody saw that?”
“She has her own ways of being seen and unseen.” He reached down to hold my hand as we walked back to the house.
“More protective duty?”
“No.” His scar deepened a little. “Because I like it.” He walked a bit more deliberately, forcing me to keep pace. “Now what’s this about Steptoe? What’s he said that’s got you thinking?”
I punched him lightly in the bicep. “I think all the time, thank you very much.”
“Not what I meant and you know it.” Carter stopped and turned to face me.
“He has a theory about the professor.”
Carter waited.
“He’s seen Brian hang back. Hesitate. And says he can smell the herbs and relics on him. He thinks he’s carrying the element for a pyre about with him, but . . .” My voice trailed off. The more indistinct my words got, the higher one of Carter’s eyebrows rose. “He thinks the professor has what he needs to do his ritual and is too cowardly to follow through.”
“Even with the pixie dust?”
“That’s what he thinks.”
Carter looked away from me then, over my shoulder to someplace I couldn’t see, maybe even across a vast Egyptian desert somewhere where he’d taken me once to try and show me what he’d been through and what magic had
done to him. Finally, he said, “Could be.”
“If it were just him, I could leave it be, but I can’t, can I?”
“Why do you say that?”
I dug a sneaker toe into a grass clump. “There’s too much going on. This is a world that didn’t—couldn’t—exist, but it does. It gets more complicated every day, and I can see that there’s trouble. You, they, whatever, stayed hidden, but you can’t stay that way much longer. Something really nasty is coming along and we have to be ready to stop it.”
His voice tensed, just a bit. “You’ve seen it?”
“No, but it stomps through my dreams every night. I don’t think it’s Malender.” I shrugged. “I’m tough and can take it, but what if it comes after my mother? Or Evelyn? It’s already taken my dad.”
“We don’t know what happened to your father.”
“I know that he’s a ghost without much hope of going back or moving forward unless we can help him. What we don’t know is who did that to him or if he did it to himself, doing something he wasn’t supposed to, or if he fell into some kind of trap, or . . .” I stopped. I could see in Carter’s expression that my words were almost as painful for him as they were for me. “Anyway, things keep getting stranger and tougher.”
“It’s not a one-way street. Things also get more wonderful.” He leaned forward, and this time there was no mistaking the intent as we kissed again.
It warmed me from the inside out, uncurling and streaking through me until I could feel myself grinning instead of kissing, and he pulled back a little, with a short laugh.
“Think this is funny, do you?”
“No. Yes . . . no, it’s fun. Not funny. Just . . . fun.” And I grabbed his collar to bring him close again and, well, we didn’t move for a few minutes until we heard Hiram and Brian coughing from the back porch. We stopped and returned to the house.
“That really was an owl hooting, Professor,” I said as we passed them.
“No doubt. But he must have had quite a lot to say. Volumes. We got curious.”
