Crowbones

CHAPTER 4

Vicki

Windsday, Grau 31

On Trickster Night, the children arrived around dusk. I learned later that cars lined both sides of Lake Street, and a man with yellow-and-blue-tipped red hair, riding a brown horse with a storm gray mane and tail, had directed traffic. It had taken only a couple of impatient honkers suddenly facing a fire tornado instead of a horse and rider to encourage everyone to be very polite and patient.

So Aiden, the local Fire Elemental, and Twister, who looked like a chubby pony when he wasn’t being an Elemental’s steed or tornadic devastation, directed traffic while a couple of enterprising parents with larger vehicles ferried children up the gravel access road to The Jumble’s main house to receive the treats being handed out by Cougar and Conan.

Grimshaw remained outside near the front door, watching everyone and scanning the darkness that seemed to swallow the light shining from all the windows, as well as the lights on either side of the door. Julian stayed inside, helping me with my guests and the academics staying at the Mill Creek Cabins as they navigated the twists and turns of making small talk with beings who saw no reason for such communication.

I thought we were doing quite well until Foxy Female grabbed a treat out of the bowl Cougar was taking to the door, then shifted her head to full Foxgard in order to crunch down on a bit o’ mouse.

Funny thing. Even after she shifted her head back to mostly human, the men who had been flirting with her had shown reluctance to get better acquainted. Might have been her breath at that point. Or the tiny end of the mouse tail that was caught between two teeth.

I, on the other hand, had rushed to the door just in time to hear Cougar say, “Heads or tails?” before offering the bowl to a male child of indeterminate species.

“No!” I yelped.

Grimshaw snapped to attention.

“Why not?” Cougar asked. “We have plenty.”

The boys—or someone—had been busy collecting treats. Conan held the bowl with the hard candy, thank the gods. Cougar’s bowl held neatly halved mice and chipmunks that were missing the gooiest innards.

Cougar assured me that he and Conan could tell the difference between human and terra indigene young, but I wondered how many phone calls Grimshaw would take tonight from hysterical parents of human male children when they dumped the treat bag on the dining room table and found The Jumble’s unique contribution to Trickster Night.

I took over treat distribution—hard candy only. We were down to the last handful of children when a girl walked up to the door from one direction and two boys about the same age headed toward me. All of them were dressed in black, but two of them looked like they were in costume and the other one looked like . . . what she was.

“We’re vampires,” said a boy with a cape and red lips that had to have come from raiding his mother’s makeup bag.

“So am I,” the girl said.

“Yeah? Let’s see your fangs.” The boy was genuinely interested enough that he thrust his treat bag in my direction without checking to see what he might be getting.

Ilya’s voice came out of the darkness. “It is impolite to show fang in public.”

Unless you’re going to bite someone.

I knew that wasn’t quite true, since Ilya showed a hint of fang when he was amused—or threatening someone—but I imagine he didn’t want Sanguinati youngsters to be thought of as some kind of entertainment. Gimme a nickel and I’ll show you fang.

The young vampires, both real and wannabes, retreated. The car ferrying human children went down the access road.

Three more Sanguinati approached. Teenagers. The girl was gorgeous and seemed a little shy, which struck me as the perfect bait for the kind of man who thought shy meant being unable to say no. One boy had pleasant looks, while the other had the sort of looks that made me think he would be able to challenge Ilya for the title of Mr. Yummy in a few years.

Only the pleasant-looking boy had a treat bag. Before I could distribute the hard candy, Julian stepped up beside me and dropped four small chocolate bars in the bag. He looked at the teens and said softly, “Share.”

They thanked him and stepped away from the door as Ilya approached.

“Would you and Natasha like to join us?” I asked. Natasha Sanguinati was my CPA. Recently she had accepted Ilya as her mate, which wasn’t common knowledge among the human population because the Sanguinati—or any form of terra indigene—weren’t inclined to answer questions about their species.

Julian said there was a word for people who got too nosy about vampire mating rituals: “chum.”

Having met the Elders who live in Lake Silence, I knew he wasn’t trying to be funny.

Ilya hesitated a moment and turned his head, as if conferring with someone. Then he looked at me and smiled, carefully not showing fang. “Thank you. We’d like the chance to mingle. We’ll take the youngsters back to Silence Lodge and return.”

Since I didn’t hear a car, I assumed the Sanguinati had shifted to their smoke form and crossed the lake to reach The Jumble and would return to Silence Lodge the same way.

I’d started to close the door, more than ready to take a head count of my guests before getting something to eat, when four teenage boys swaggered up the access road and came into the light.

They were human. I knew they were human. But they looked at me the same way my ex-husband’s friends had looked at women—and that made them the most bestial creatures to enter The Jumble that night.