flashed a grinning leer. "I plan on staying right here."
She felt her indignation flare. "If you think I'd let you watch, you're moony!"
"Actually, I thought I'd join you."
Her mind skipped a track. "Not in the same bed!?"
She sneered. "You're not my type, Dribble. I meant if you're getting stuffed, there's no reason why I can't either. Besides, I don't do menages; I don't like sharing."
She willed herself to be calm. "Hmph. And just where are we supposed to find our partners? Unlike you, I don't have my own stable of studs."
"What about him?" She gestured at Vlad.
She felt her outrage flare. "Bugger that!"
"I am afraid My Master is right. That would be entirely inappropriate."
Margaret shrugged. "Whatever. You have an entire household of fit young footmen. Surely there's at least one who makes you excited?"
She scowled. "You've probably got one in mind for yourself."
She gave her a lecherous half-smile. "There are a few I wouldn't mind bedding."
"It doesn't matter in any event. There's no way we could keep this a secret."
She looked at Vlad. "With your knowledge of the Dark Arts, couldn't you hide us?"
"Indeed, but I could do more than that. I could isolate this room from time, so that what might seem like hours to you would only pass as a few minutes outside."
"Great! So, how about it, Dribble? You can't have any objections now."
"Just a moment, Maggot. The footmen we select; how would we get them here?"
Margaret laughed. "Are you serious? All we have to do is ask; they'll fall all over each other."
Her irritation grated at her nerves. "Yes, but how? If we go out there Aelfraed and Mrs. Widget will know something's up."
"He can bring them here."
"I won't have them kidnapped!"
"That will not be necessary, Master. I can approach them discreetly. I will transport them here only if they agree."
"And what if they refuse? What's to keep them from alerting Aelfraed?"
"I can cloud their memories so they do not remember; I will do the same once the dirty deed is done."
"There, you see?" Margaret said. "Everything's solved."
"What about pregnancy, and STDs?"
"Oh, I always carry a pack of rubber Johnnies with me. Now, quit stalling! Nothing can go wrong, and we three will be the only one's who'll know what happened."
She shook her head. "Doctor LeClerc will find out the next time he examines me."
"Well, of course it'll come out eventually, but by then there won't be a thing anyone can do about it. Come on, this is a golden opportunity here! And I think you'll like it if you give it a chance."
"Oh, shut it, you git."
"Now, now, there's nothing wrong with being nervous. I was too the first time, can you believe it? But I know what will calm you down, and put you in the proper mood. Are there any spirits we can get a hold of?"
She felt her gut clench. "I don't want to get drunk."
"No, of course not, not for your first time at any rate. You just need enough to take the edge off. It'll help with the pain, too."
"Pain?"
"Yes, when your hymen breaks. Don't worry, a paper cut's worse, and that's nothing. Surely a brave monster hunter like yourself can tolerate a little discomfort."
"Hmph. It's still no good. The only alcoholic beverages I know of are in the buttery, off the butler's pantry, and Aelfraed has the only key."
Margaret look at Vlad. "What about it, Dracs? Care to nick a bottle for us?"
"Alas, that is one thing I cannot do."
Margaret's eyes bulged with surprise. "Why not?"
"Aelfraed placed garlic in the buttery, and Vlad hates garlic."
"That's no problem." Margaret jumped off the bed and sprinted towards the chifforobe that contained her clothes. "We'll get it ourselves." She reached in and pulled out her purse, then went to the play table and opened it.
Differel watched her with a sense of growing concern. Margaret wasn't a bad seed, but she had been so privileged all her life that, even if not quite spoiled, she still expected to have everything her way. Her visits were no exception. Though they could socialize without clawing each other's eyes out, Differel wasn't particularly eager to do so. They had only seen each other fourteen times in the past couple of years, but most of them were sleepovers like her current visit. Margaret had just called her up out of the blue and asked if she could spend the weekend. Differel had agreed only because that usually meant Margaret needed someone to talk to about a problem, and she was the only person she trusted.
Truth be told though, sometimes she needed someone to talk to as well, and Margaret was the only person she could trust, despite her bullying manner. She sometimes wondered if their mutual antagonism lay at the heart of that, but that seemed contradictory.
Margaret dumped the contents of her purse on the table and sorted through it. "Aha! I knew I had them." She turned around and held up a small packet.
"And pray tell, what is that?"
She came back to the bed and opened the packet. Inside were a dozen long, thin metal instruments. Two looked like torsion wrenches; the rest had oddly-shaped ends, such as tiny hooks, round knobs, half-triangles, or S-curves.
"It's a set of lock picks."
Differel raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What are you doing with lock picks?"
"I've had them since I was thirteen. One of the servants gave them to me and showed me how to use them. They're very handy for getting into places I'm not supposed to." She flashed a conspiratorial grin.
For a moment, she felt a devilish urge. "You could actually get in?"
"It doesn't have a combination lock, does it?"
"No, just a regular key lock."
Margaret grinned. "Then it'd be a doddle."
Then, maybe we could, she thought, but then squelched it and shook her head. She glanced at the alarm clock; it was well past eleven. "Even at this late hour there would be servants around at work, not to mention the guards."
"I could reconnoiter," Vlad said.
"What about the guard in the hallway?" Ever since she could remember, an armed soldier stood stationed outside the bedroom whenever she was inside.
"I can deal with him." And he turned to shadow.
"What? No, wait!" The shadow dwindled in size and coalesced into a rat. It ran for the door that led into the nurse's room and vanished through it in a puff of black fog.
"Oh, bloody hell! See what you've started? Come on, if we're going to do this, now's the best time."
From "Far-Sight"
Laban Shrewsbury found Jeremiah and Kathleen Arkenton standing beside the fiberglass skeleton of Tyrannosaurus rex in the lobby of the Natural History Museum. He always felt amazed that two such different people had ever found anything in common, much less gotten married and produced a gifted son. Jeremiah was tall but well built, almost muscular, with hawkish features and a shock of unruly salt and pepper hair. Kathleen was short and petite but curvy, with long copper-red hair and classic Irish features, including green eyes and freckles. Physical appearances aside, the wife was spontaneous, outgoing, and mischievous, while the husband was introverted, coldly rational, and taciturn except when lecturing about some scientific or technological subject. Yet by all accounts their marriage was a happy one, and Kathleen had confided to him that she and Jeremiah had an active, even boisterous, sex life.
Kathleen waved to him while Jeremiah stood at her side, studying the display in that intense, totally absorbed way he had. Shrewsbury waved back then approached, weaving his way through the crowd. As he came up to them, Kathleen grinned and welcomed him, then nudged her husband none too gently in the ribs. Jeremiah turned around and regarded Shrewsbury casually with his usual stony expression. Most people found that stare unnerving, especially with those hard, steel-blue eyes looking back at them like they were specimens he wanted to study. Shrewsbury understood that it was nothing
personal; it was Jeremiah's normal reaction to anyone, close friend and stranger alike. Besides, he was used to it.
Kathleen hugged Shrewsbury and he shook hands with Jeremiah, who managed a faint smile and a nod of the head. "So, to what do we owe this pleasure?" she asked, her sing-song voice buzzing with a faint Irish brogue.
"The director of the museum is a former student of mine. He has a puzzle he would like the two of you to investigate. It concerns the disappearance of one of his researchers."
Jeremiah cocked an eyebrow. "Solving puzzles is not our profession," he said evenly in his strong, robust baritone.
Shrewsbury gave him an enigmatic smile. "This is one I believe you will appreciate."
Kathleen gave her husband a look of reproach. "We'll be happy to help in any way we can, Laban; lead the way."
Shrewsbury took them through the crowd to a bank of elevators, one of which took them up to the offices. He then escorted them to a suite used by the museum director. The secretary in the outer office directed them into the inner office, where they found a professorial type, middle-aged, portly, with thinning brown hair covering a bald spot on his head and a short-cropped Hollywood-style beard on his round, pudgy face.
He stood and came out from behind his desk to greet his guests and shake their hands. Shrewsbury introduced him as Dr. Theodore Carroway, and he invited the Arkentons to sit.
"I am pleased you agreed to see me," he began as he returned to his side of the desk. "I appreciate how valuable your time is."
"Laban is a good friend of ours," Kathleen assured him. "He would not have spoken to us on your behalf if
Adventurer's Honeymoon Page 4
