by P. R. Frost
Halohan eyed her suspiciously.
“Well, I’ve had it with other people’s rules. I’m in charge now.” Suddenly she lost the druggie scatter-brained demeanor. She assumed a new air of confidence and serious menace. Lines radiating from her eyes made her look considerably older. Hard experience gave her those lines, not accumulated years.
“As long as you’ve got the gun, lady. Didn’t know we were playing ‘Clue,”’ Uncle George muttered. He fiddled with his game piece.
Why couldn’t he be his usually clumsy self and spill his beer or something, anything to get WindScribe’s attention away from me and the trigger of her big honking gun.
“Is that what you did in Faery?” MoonFeather asked. “Take control of the rules, make your own?”
“Of course. But that silly little king kept getting in the way. He should have thanked me for opening the door between our two worlds. But no. He insisted I was violating some long tradition. He talks of hospitality and fair treatment, but he keeps the Cthulu demons locked up in cages. He attacked me when I let the poor beasts free.”
“Poor beasts?” Donovan quirked one eyebrow up. “Last I heard, the Cthlulu eat everything and anything in their path, growing larger with each meal until one of them will fill an entire ocean. The magic of Faery that keeps every being the same size is the only way to contain them. They aren’t even allowed to guard the chat room.” He spoke softly.
No one but me was listening anyway.
Again I wondered why those things were allowed to survive. Balance be damned. I didn’t want Cthlulus or Damiri, or Sasquatch, or any of the monsters loose in my universe. In any universe.
Gollum seemed to have melted into the floor. So much for his help.
“All creatures deserve to be free!” WindScribe screamed. Then calm descended on her like a cold mask. “So I snapped the Faery king’s neck with a twist of my hands, easier than killing a chicken.”
A whistle escaped through my teeth. “You killed the king of Faery?”
WindScribe shrugged. “So what?”
“And then you armed a band of demons and tried to take over,” MoonFeather finished.
“Get off your high horse, old lady. You’d have done the same. I marched beside you in peace demonstrations. The place was ripe for revolution,” WindScribe sneered.
“No, I wouldn’t,” MoonFeather sighed. “There is a difference between protest marches or organizing voter registration to right a wrong and . . . and arming thugs.”
“Thugs with a taste for human blood,” Donovan added.
“What in the hell are they talking about?” Dad asked.
“The girl’s crazy. Clinically insane, if you ask me,” Halohan replied. “And the rest of you are walking a fine line between vivid imagination and downright delusion. ”
“You got that right,” I said. WindScribe might be crazy, but she remained incredibly focused with that gun.
Suddenly Mom’s eyes cleared. I could almost see a light switch turning on in her brain. “Why did you kill my husband, Joyce Milner?” she asked. She fixed a gaze on WindScribe that would have made me squirm.
“My name is WindScribe!” she shouted. “I’m not Joyce. I will never be Joyce again.” She waved the gun in a wild arc taking in the entire room.
All of us slouched a little lower in our chairs. Gollum actually disappeared beneath the table. Coward or practical?
“So why did you stab my husband and frame my daughter, WindScribe?” Mom pressed her. “What did I ever do to you? I used to babysit you.”
“Nothing against you, Genny. You just happened to be in the middle,” WindScribe dismissed her.
“I’d be interested in the why of it,” Halohan said. He edged his chair back a little, making room to lunge for WindScribe. Allie did the same.
“He threatened you, WindScribe,” Donovan said. He hadn’t budged an inch, not even to cower away from that wicked little gun. Would the bullets penetrate his demon skin? “And he imposed rules on you. Rules that didn’t make sense to you.”
“Of course. He was all about rules,” WindScribe replied. “He couldn’t do this or that because it might expose him for a demon. I couldn’t say this or that because it might alert his enemies to what he was doing and he was cheating everyone he met. Including you, Genny.”
Mom paled. “The wills,” she whispered.
“Yeah, the wills,” I muttered. “His was a blind, a way of easing your mind so you’d bequeath everything to him, bypassing your children and your ex. He’d wait to kill you until he killed me and you’d inherited everything I own, including this house. You wouldn’t have lasted long enough to grieve.”
“You, Tess?” Donovan asked. “You were the real target?”
“Of course.” Take out a Warrior of the Celestial Blade and take over the house. A very special house on neutral ground where he could build and control a new portal.
One look at Mike squirming in his chair under my scrutiny and I knew I’d guessed right.
“Sacred ground,” he whispered. “Neutral ground to all races and tribes. Blessed by seven shamans thousands of years ago.”
I might have been the only one to hear him.
“Only Darren hadn’t counted on my will, which leaves everything to charity,” I continued the primary conversation.
A dozen pairs of eyes riveted on me. “Why you?” Dad asked the question on everyone’s lips.
I couldn’t tell him. He’d never understand that I was a Warrior of the Celestial Blade living outside a Citadel. That I was a free radical who threatened Darren’s plans to set up a home world for Kajiri demons.
“He wanted the house. He also wanted the research I’d stumbled on that would expose his scams and cheats,” I said instead. “He may have been wealthy, but a lot of his money came from confidence games and semiorganized crime.” That was close enough to the truth.
“It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead,” Mom remonstrated.
“But it’s true!” WindScribe chortled. “That and much, much more. I had to kill him before he killed me. It was all too easy, hardly a challenge at all. Now the king of Faery required some planning. I made it look like an accident, but it was really me. I’m not stupid. And he found me beautiful. So does Donovan. I’m not a failure.”
I rolled my eyes in dismissal.
“I’m not a failure!” WindScribe insisted. “And it’s my turn to make the rules. None of you will dare break them. Because I’ll shoot you dead. Now everyone lay down on the floor with your hands behind your necks.”
We looked at each other rather than at her. Who was willing to take a bullet while the rest of us rushed her. An automatic. How fast could she fire? Would the recoil destroy her aim?
What did I know about guns? A blade I could judge. Guns? I didn’t want to take a chance on her taking out my entire family.
Allie nodded ever so slightly to Halohan.
“No.” I grabbed her wrist. “I won’t let you do it.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she said quietly. “I owe you one, Tess. It’s my job to protect and to serve.”
“No. You don’t owe me anything. This is my house. My responsibility.” My job.
“Quit stalling. Get on the floor,” WindScribe ordered.
“I don’t think so,” Grandma Maria huffed. “My arthritis.” She turned a glare on WindScribe that made Mom’s look weak.
“Me either. I need another drink,” Uncle George leaned back and looked through the butler’s pantry as if he could levitate a beer from the fridge.
“You’re breaking the rules!” WindScribe looked near panic. “Hey, where’s the tall guy?”
“New rule,” Gollum said from right behind her. “Never, ever point a gun at someone unless you intend to shoot. And you’d better shoot quick or the rule maker will take the gun away from you.”
He reached over her shoulder and pressed a nerve in her wrist. Her hand opened and the gun fell to the floor.
Allie scrambled to re
trieve it.
WindScribe collapsed in upon herself, falling over the arm Gollum thrust in front of her.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Gollum was no coward. He outsmarted us all by sneaking under the table to get behind WindScribe. My estimation of him rose several notches.
Halohan was on his cell phone in seconds. Sirens sounded in the distance a heartbeat later.
Donovan tried to gather me in his arms. I resisted his allure, giving my smile to Gollum instead.
“I guess she forfeited her turn. Can we continue with the game now?” Grandma Maria whined.
“Half of D’s wealth goes into a blind trust, administered by me, to continue the family enterprise,” Donovan told my mother over a brandy and cookies in the kitchen some hours later.
Halohan had taken WindScribe off to the mental ward of the hospital in an ambulance, with James and the FBI hot on their heels. Allie had left instructions for everyone to stop by the station tomorrow to give depositions on the evening’s happenings. Bill took Uncle George and Grandma Maria home. MoonFeather had retired to her room with her cell phone to call Josh.
The house felt empty, even though it was still full.
Maybe because Gollum had retired to his apartment to leave the family discussion to the family.
“The other half of the estate, D left to you, Genevieve, naming me executor of the will,” Donovan continued. “I’ll do my best to see you get as much of it as possible, but he has legitimate sons and daughters who will contest the will in court.”
“I . . . I didn’t expect much. I knew he had money, but I didn’t think he was wealthy,” Mom replied. She seemed fascinated with the amber swirl of brandy in her glass.
I watched her closely for signs of the grief-madness or demon thrall that had possessed her earlier. For the moment she seemed lucid. She’d recovered faster than I did when widowed dramatically by murder.
“Is there enough in the estate for a compromise?” Dad asked. He had his calculator and a legal pad in front of him. He piled up numbers on the pad at an alarming rate. “Give half to the Estevez children from Genevieve’s portion?”
“More than enough. I was going to suggest such a compromise to keep the lawyers from eating up a huge chunk of it. Even giving away half, there’s enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life, Genevieve.” Donovan patted her hand possessively.
I guess he did have a claim on her now. But she was my mother. I should be the one taking care of her.
“I don’t think I want to buy the Milner place now. It’s too big for just me.”
“You’re welcome to continue here,” I offered. Somehow I couldn’t imagine living here without her. “Will you want to go back to the cottage?” I asked tentatively. Or would Darren’s ghost haunt her there?
Mom shook her head, her short hair bouncing against her cheeks, mingling with her slow tears. “I couldn’t.”
“Then I’ll ask Gollum if he’d be comfortable there and you can have the apartment.”
Mom raised hopeful eyes to me. “Th . . . thank you, Tess. I’ll pay rent once Donovan clears the estate.”
“You just keep cooking for me and we’ll call it even.”
“Thank you,” Dad mouthed on a deep sigh.
A couple of problems under control. But I still had the misplaced coven to deal with. And I had some big questions for Scrap about Dill’s death.
Mexico seemed farther away than ever.
Chapter 47
Women who live together in close quarters will often find their monthly cycles coinciding, usually at the dark of the moon, becoming most fertile two weeks later at the full moon.
"WE’RE HOLDING A MEMORIAL for D here on Wednesday morning. Tomorrow,” Donovan said when he sought me out in the library a few minutes later. “Just your mom and your family, probably. Then I’ll ship his body home to Florida for a funeral and burial on Thursday.”
“What’s in it for you, Donovan?” I asked quietly.
“It’s just a funeral,” he replied. He didn’t look as confused as he tried to make his voice sound. The flickering light from the fireplace brought out the copper tones in his skin and revealed depths to his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. They looked as deep and forbidding as the lake at the base of Dry Falls in Washington State, near his home.
“I meant the will. Why are you working so hard to help my mom and deprive Darren’s children of their inheritance? ” I held his gaze steadily, doing my best not to succumb to his allure and let my concerns all slide away.
“You aren’t going to trust me on this one, are you?” He had the grace to look chagrined.
I knew in that moment that he had something to hide. Something more than usual.
“I don’t trust you at all.”
“You trusted me to watch your back in battle the night before last.”
Was it only two nights ago? It seemed a lifetime had passed since then.
“I thank you for that. But you had something to prove. Watching my back in battle against full-blooded Windago was secondary.” We glared at each other for many long moments.
The fire popped, sending an ember onto the hearth. We both jumped and did not relax afterward. I sensed Scrap hovering in the other room, anxious that he could not get close to me.
We both knew that we were too emotionally drained to engage in a fight again even if he could summon the strength to transform.
“What do you have to gain?” I asked again when the silence between us had stretched too long.
“The trust.”
Control of half a large estate. He’d been close to bankruptcy last autumn when we destroyed his half-built casino rather than let the Sasquatch use it as a rogue portal into this world. A portal that bypassed the chat room where most dimensional passages took place. Did he need the money that badly to recoup his own fortune?
What about the big gaming deal he closed last Friday?
“What do you intend to do with the trust? I figure it has to be in the millions.”
“Maybe buy an island in Polynesia and turn it into a resort where my people can go on vacation and let themselves be who they truly are without prejudice or restrictions.” He settled into a wooden rocker across from me.
“And who are your people?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“These Powers That Be sound like a cop-out to me. Something gets uncomfortable to talk about, and you blame your silence on them.”
“That’s not fair, Tess. You’ve never had to face them.” He looked at the floor, studying the broad wooden planks intently.
“I’ve faced Sasquatch, Windago, and Orculli trolls. I’ve witnessed the Goddess of the Celestial Warriors in the sky. Maybe I should face these mysterious Powers That Be and get some questions answered.”
“If you think getting me to answer a question is hard, the Powers That Be make me look like a tattletale with diarrhea of the mouth.”
“Then spill some information.”
