Sweep in Peace

Chapter Eight

I bought mint first. I didn’t even mess around with grocery stores. I took a pair of dog biscuits from the pantry and drove straight to Mindy’s Mud and Weeds. Mindy raised English springer spaniels and ran the town’s most successful nursery. The woman could plant a wooden skewer into the ground and it would grow into a gorgeous orchid in two weeks. Beak, Mindy’s latest prizewinning dog, greeted me at the door with a look of canine despair. Mindy swore that in private Beak was an accomplished thief of socks and spoons who knew no shame, but whenever I saw her, the black-and-white spaniel looked like she was the saddest, most long-suffering canine in the whole wide world. I gave her two dog biscuits—one just didn’t seem enough to snap her out of world-weary despair—chatted with Mindy, bought four big buckets of living mint and basil, loaded them into the back of the car, and headed for the grocery store.

Orro’s list burned through five hundred dollars’ worth of groceries and forty-five minutes of my time. I probably could’ve gotten at least some of it cheaper and faster at Costco, but last time I went there, I was attacked by some alien monsters. Unfortunately a woman saw me and even helped me. When she went to report it, I hid the evidence and it took all my power to do it. I escaped before she came back with a manager, but it probably made her look like a crazy person. I had no wish to run into her, so I only went to Costco during dinner hours. I’d met her in the morning, and she seemed like she might have a family, so I thought dinnertime would be least likely for her to be out.

GameStop was next. I bought a PlayStation 4 and a couple of games. The vampires would be able to synthesize additional gaming consoles and software. Another six hundred dollars gone. I was burning through my operational budget so fast that if this summit went on for longer than a week, I would have to start panhandling to keep the lights on.

I saved PetSmart for last. I got my cart and turned left, past the tanks filled with schools of colorful fish to the row of glass cages holding cats from local pet shelters. The first cage held an fat, older calico cat sleeping with its butt pressed against the glass. No. Too old, too mellow, and completely different look.

The second cage held a small light brown ball of fur. Dark brown rosettes spattered the thick coat. I checked the card. Feistykins, three months old, female, friendly… From this angle she almost looked like a Bengal. I leaned closer.

The ball of fur sprang like a tiny tabby cannonball shot out of a canon and pounced on the glass. Big yellow eyes looked at me and fluoresced with brighter amber, catching the light. I put my finger against the glass and moved it back and forth. Feistykins batted at it with her paws. She didn’t look like Grumpy Cat, but she definitely fit the bill on the adorable factor.

I moved to the only other occupied cage. A large gray cat looked back at me with big green eyes. His fur, thick and long, flared about his head in a Maine coon mane. There was something elegant, almost aristocratic about him, as if he were really a lion somehow condensed to house cat size. I checked the card. Count. Three years old, male, neutered.

The cat gazed at me. He didn’t move. He didn’t walk to the glass, but he definitely knew I was there, and he studied me carefully. His big eyes were mesmerizing. When I was younger, I used to read too much poetry. The lines from Byron’s poem came to mind.

SHE walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Byron wasn’t writing about a cat, he was writing about his widowed cousin who had been in mourning when he met her. This cat wasn’t black. It wasn’t even female, but when I looked into those eyes, they made me think of the night and the starry sky. There was something witchy about him. Something hinting at a hidden mystery. That he sat there, confined in a small glass box, felt wrong and unnatural, like a bird with its wings tied.

“Looking for a cat?”

I almost jumped.

A middle-aged balding man in the PetSmart uniform khaki pants and blue polo shirt stopped by me.

The gray cat watched me. I almost asked for him. No, too old. “Can I see the kitten?” I asked.

“Sure.” He unlocked the glass door, letting me into a private area that permitted access to the back of the cages.

Feistykins proved to be everything a kitten could be. She pounced on the feather toy, she pounced on the little kitten ball, she pounced on my leg, and when I put her on my lap, she purred and preened. Two minutes into petting, she decided she’d had enough and bit me. She didn’t draw blood, but I felt the teeth. Well, if Grandmother Nuan wanted a cute, merciless hunter, this was probably the best we could do.

“I’ll take her.”

“Okay.” The man handed me some papers to fill out. Five minutes later, Feistykins was safely contained in a small cardboard carrier.

“What about him?” I asked, pointing to the gray cat.

“Count? He’s been here awhile. He isn’t what you would call an affectionate cat. He doesn’t suck up.”

No, he didn’t look like he’d suck up.

“He’s got till tomorrow and then the shelter is taking him back. They’ve got to rotate the cats. If they replace him with someone less boring, that cat might get adopted.”

“Thank you.” I loaded Feistykins into the cart and moved on to the cat aisle. Cat litter, cat litter scoop, cat food, cat dish…

I’d never considered myself a cat person. I didn’t really care for them. My mother had one, a big black fluffy cat called Snuggles. When I left the room for five minutes and came back, our dogs acted as if I was gone for ages. Snuggles mostly ignored us, including my mom who took care of him. The only time he deemed it necessary to notice our existence was when he was hungry.

Let’s see, she would need a kitten collar too. And some toys. I plucked a long plastic stick with a feather on top. Before the summit pulled me out of my bored stupor, I’d read an article—you can really find out a lot of weird stuff when you spend your day surfing Facebook—that claimed cats didn’t really love their owners, only manipulated them. They recognized their owner’s voices and ignored them. They rubbed on their legs because they marked a new “object” in the room with their scent. And most of them didn’t actually like getting petted. Besides, Beast probably didn’t like cats.

Nobody would adopt him. He would just sit there in that cage with his starry-sky eyes. And tomorrow someone would come and take him back to the shelter.

This was a stupid idea.

I turned the cart around. The man who had helped me was feeding the fish.

“I’ll take him.”

“Who?” he asked.

“The gray cat. I’m taking him home with me.”

I got home without further incident. I let the inn unpack the groceries from the car. I had errands to run. First I took the gray cat to my room and left him there in the carrier. He didn’t look too freaked-out, but I didn’t want to take chances. I would have to think of a name for him at some point, but right now I had nothing. Then I put on my robe, borrowed Arland’s engineer, and set him to duplicating gaming consoles and controllers. Finally, I took Feistykins to the Nuan Clan.

I was greeted by Nuan Ara, who ushered me into their quarters. The entire Nuan Clan assembled in the room in a small semicircle with Grandmother resting on a luxurious divan.

“This is a kitten,” I explained. “A very young predator. She doesn’t look like Ennui predator, but she has a playful spirit. Right now she might be frightened, so when I open this carrier, she might escape. Do not chase her. She will hide and come out when she is ready.”

I pried the carrier open, expecting Feistykins to take off like a bullet.

Seconds crawled by.

What if she’d died somehow in the carrier? Okay, where did that thought even come from?

The carrier shuddered. Feistykins stepped out and looked over the clan of bipedal foxes. The expression on her face said she was not impressed. She gave the gathering another derisive once-over, let out an imperious meow, and headed straight for the divan.

The Merchants formed a circle around the kitten, making cooing noises. I let out a breath, handed toys and the litter box to Nuan Ara with quick instructions, and went to see the noble knights of Holy Anocracy.

By the time the vampires were assembled, the inn had finished assimilating the new gaming consoles. I waved my hand and three huge flat-screens opened in the stone walls of the vampire quarters. The wall spat out sets of controllers.

“Greetings,” I said. “House Krahr, House Sabla, and House Vorga, may I present Call of Duty.”

The three screens ignited simultaneously, playing the opening of Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare. Soldiers in high-tech armor shot at targets, flew across the screen from bomb impacts, and walked dramatically in slow motion. Vehicles roared, Marines roared louder, and Kevin Spacey informed us that politicians didn’t know how to solve problems but he did.

The vampires stared at the screens.

“This is a game of cooperative action,” I said, “where a small elite force can triumph against overwhelming odds.”

At the word elite, they perked up like wild dogs who’d heard a rabbit cry.

“The game will teach you how to play it. May the best House triumph over their opponents.”

Arland reached for the first controller. I turned around and walked out, sealing the door behind me. Now their pride was involved. That should occupy them for a few days. Hopefully they wouldn’t kill each other over it.

I made my way to the otrokars’ quarters and asked Dagorkun to gather everyone in the common hall. Most of them were already there, lounging around the fire in the center of the room and drinking tea. Even Khanum was in attendance, brooding on her pillows strewn on the floor.

“Everyone is here,” Dagorkun announced.

I flicked my fingers. An enormous screen slid out of the wall and turned black. A song started, softly. A football team burst into a stadium. The song picked up steam. Football teams clashed like two armies. Running backs streaked across the field. Receivers flew off the grass to catch impossible passes while defensive backs dove at them. Enormous linebackers tore at bodies, trying to crush the quarterback. Coaches screamed. Quarterbacks threw passes defying laws of physics. The very essence of the game was in that video, with all its failures, its brutality, and pure unrestrained elation of victory, and the song rose with it, loud and triumphant.

The otrokars stared, mesmerized.

“What is this?” Dagorkun asked quietly.

“This is football,” I said.

Smaller screens opened in the side of the room as the walls under it released controllers.

“You can watch it on the big screen. Or…” I paused to makes sure I had their attention. “You can play it.”

Madden’s logo ignited on the two smaller screens.

“Football is a war game of land acquisition…,” I began.

When I finally made it to my room, it was past six. Orro had yelled at me as I walked up to my room. Apparently everyone had spontaneously decided to reschedule the formal dinner to tomorrow night. There were kittens to play with, enemies to shoot, and footballs to be passed. That meant I could at least take a shower in peace.

Beast sat by the crate in my bedroom, looking scandalized.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s just an extra permanent guest.”

I gently pried the carrier open. The gray cat stepped out on soft paws, looked about, and hid under the bed.

Beast whined at me.

“Not you too.” I shook my head. “I had a rough day.”

Beast whined again.

I went into my bathroom. Here’s hoping soap and hot water would wash today off.

After the shower I climbed into bed and asked the inn to send a screen down. The ceiling parted, growing a screen on a thin stalk that tilted toward me.

“Resume recording,” I murmured.

The emerald bounced on the screen. Otrokars and vampires walked past it, preoccupied with their own tasks. The big green gem lay forgotten like a cheap glass bauble.

“Fast-forward,” I instructed. “Four times the speed.”

The recording sped up. The otrokars and knights hurried about like actors from a silent movie, their movements exaggerated by the accelerated recording. An otrokar brushed by it. The emerald slid to the side. I yawned.

This would be so much more fun if Sean were here to make fun of it. He’d once called Arland Goldilocks and then told him he should try to get his woodland friends to help him if he got in trouble.

I pictured myself reaching into my mind, taking that thought out, and setting it aside. Sean Evans wasn’t here. Maybe I could make a deal with myself. Once the summit was over, whichever way it went, I would go down to Wilmos’s weapon shop and have a nice long conversation with Mr. Evans. Since he bugged me so much, I could ask him if he was planning on coming back in the near future. That way I wouldn’t waste my time obsessing over…

The emerald vanished.

“Stop!” I jerked upright and almost collided with the screen.

The recording froze.

“Rewind at normal speed.”

The screen blurred and suddenly the emerald popped back into existence on the floor.

“Stop. Play forward, one-quarter speed.”

Slowly, part of the screen blurred slightly, moving toward the emerald. It wasn’t an obvious, pronounced blur, more like someone had taken a smeared magnifying glass and passed it over the screen. I had never before seen anything like it. The inn’s sensors weren’t infallible, but they were pretty close.

The blur touched the emerald and the green gem vanished.

“Thermal imaging, same time block.”

The screen blinked. A blob of yellow with a bright red center passed over the emerald. So whatever this was shielded the wearer from thermal imaging as well. It had to be some kind of device projecting a field that tampered with the inn’s feed. My stomach churned.

Someone moved unchecked in my inn, and I didn’t know how or why.

In my inn. In Gertrude Hunt.

I had to find out and fast. The lives of my guests depended on it, because while this was going on, any guarantees of security I promised weren’t worth the hot air that came out of my mouth as I made them.

I stared at the distortion on the screen. You want to play games? Fine. I will find you and when I do, you won’t like what will follow.