Wood Sprites

27: Ending The Night With A Bang Bang Bang

Louise huddled in the back of the car, hugging Nikola tightly. She really wanted the whole night of bad to be over. The only good thing was meeting Nigel Reid, and Joy had totally screwed that up. It was one thing to hand over the whistle and tell him about Dufae’s box. It was another to show him Joy and forbid him from studying her closely. Now they had to worry that Nigel wouldn’t keep his word and pretend that he hadn’t seen the little dragon. That he wouldn’t follow his natural curiosity and try to find out their names and who they were and where they lived. .

At least there was some comfort that he would be on Elfhome in less than thirty days and a universe removed from them for months after that. She wanted to believe that they’d done the right thing in trusting him so much.

Certainly if she didn’t trust someone, it was Anna Desmarais. The gala was supposed to signal the end of the war between her and their mother, but Louise got the distinct impression that it had been a false peace treaty. A new battle was about to break out, and it was going to be worse. Much worse. There was no word or look or action, however, that explained why Louise felt this so strongly. Anna had been polite, smiling, listening carefully to their mother’s conversation and nodding in response.

Ironically their mother had judged their interaction with Anna successful enough to warrant forgiveness for sneaking Nikola into the gala. “I’m still mad that she cornered me for hours, but at least I knew you were safe with Tesla. Were you able to see Nigel Reid?”

“Yes, we saw him,” they said.

“He was awesome,” Jillian added without explaining that the man had dropped everything to spend time in private with them.

Tell them everything. Louise felt as if disaster was about to crash down upon them. Nothing felt safe to say. She curled tighter into a ball and let Jillian answer questions about the face-painting and other things they’d supposedly done before their mother rejoined them. Before she knew it, they’d turned on to their street and were driving up to their house. They were one of the few houses with a basement garage instead of apartment. The big door sensed them approach and slid upward just as the car turned into the driveway. A light flashed on the dashboard.

“Huh,” their father said as the car slotted itself perfectly into the garage. “Security system just crashed. I hope it doesn’t call the police.”

The mother swore softly at her phone. “I can’t get it to respond.”

“I’ll reset it from the keypad in the kitchen.” Their father hopped out of the door and trotted up the steps.

“No!” The word slipped out of Louise. It tore something loose, and she was flooded with sudden certainty that if she didn’t stop him, she’d never see him again. She lunged between the front seats and slammed down on the horn. In the enclosed garage, the sound seemed like a sudden loud cry of pain. She beat on the horn, blaring it again and again.

“Lou?” Jillian cried while Nikola yelped in surprise.

“Louise!” their mother cried. “Louise! Stop that.”

Louise leaned against the horn, pressing hard. It screamed warning even as shots rang out upstairs.

“Warning!” Tesla barked in his deep Japanese man voice. “Intruders! Home security has been breached. Response code five! Secondary target requires assistance.”

The car doors all opened, and Tesla sprang out. Louise followed.

“Louise! Jillian! No!” their mother shouted.

Sounding like a grizzly-sized dog, Tesla went snarling up the steps.

There was an odd roar in the kitchen and a scream of human pain and another gunshot, this one sounding farther away.

“Louise, get back in the car! George!”

A moment later her father had swept her up and was carrying her back down the steps.

“Nikola!” Louise shouted, and then she realized that it was the robotic dog responding, not her baby brother. “Tesla, cancel response code five! Nikola! Nikola come back!”

Seconds later, she and her father and Nikola were all trying to fit into the front seat of the car. One of them leaned against the horn and it blared and everyone shouted in fear. And then the car was traveling backward out of the garage, horn still blaring, Louise, her father, and Nikola all flailing in the bucket seat.

“Get in the backseat!” their mother shouted.

Nikola tumbled into the backseat and Louise followed and the car swung around, its headlight picking out a man rolling on the sidewalk, his black shirt on fire. There were two more men getting into a black SUV parked two doors down.

Then they swept past the SUV, and the gunmen were left behind them.

The house looked like a tornado had hit it. All the drawers and bookcases had their contents scattered on the floor. The little television screen in the kitchen and the big screen in the living room were both shattered. Random holes had been punched into the walls and furniture overturned, its lining cut.

They had driven straight to the police station and then, with a squad-car escort, cautiously returned to the now-empty house.

“It was dark, and it happened so fast.” Their father was recounting what had happened while they huddled together on the front porch. “One of the girls started to beep the horn, and then something small — like a rat — jumped onto my shoulder — and then there were these flashes at the end of the hall, like bottle rockets going off — and some people ran out the front door. When we pulled out, it looked like one of the men was on fire.”

Their dad’s shoulders were covered with cake frosting. The rat obviously had been Joy. They’d been calling her a baby dragon — did that mean she’d actually breathed fire on one of the gunmen? Where was she now? Had she been hit by a bullet? She wasn’t inside Tesla.

The two police officers had checked the house to make sure it was clear and were now collecting evidence.

“Casings,” one cop said from near the door. “Nine millimeter. One, two, three, four — looks like a full clip. One lucky”—he glanced toward Louise and Jillian and changed what he was going to say—“dog.”

The other stooped and picked up something on the kitchen floor. “This is a slug. Here’s another. Looks like it hit something and deformed.” They looked around the kitchen, apparently searching for evidence of ricochets.

Louise wanted to search for Joy. “Can we pick stuff up or is this still a crime scene?”

“You can clean things up, sweetheart,” the police officer said.

“Aren’t you going to dust for fingerprints and. . and. . such?” their father asked.

“They only do that on television. For a robbery where no one is actually hurt, we just file a report.”

In unspoken agreement, the twins started to pick up in the kitchen. This was Joy; unless she was seriously hurt, she’d be near food. Their parents went upstairs with the policeman to assess the damage up there. She wasn’t in the pantry as Louise expected. Nor was she under the sink where they had hidden her cat food.

“Where is she?” Jillian’s voice quavered.

“Who?” Nikola had been pressed against Louise’s side since they arrived at the police station. “Joy?”

“Yes, Joy.”

“She’s in the refrigerator.”

“How did she get in there?” Louise opened the door. The inside was almost as bad as the rest of the house. All the little Tupperware containers of leftovers had been torn open and licked clean. The fruit bin had little greasy handprints across the inside of the glass front, and only a few apple cores and some orange rinds remained. The baby dragon was asleep among the well-gnawed bones of the roast chicken. “Oh! Oh no! What a mess!”

“I’ll clean the fridge. You get her.” Jillian swung the trashcan around to beside the open refrigerator.

Louise scooped Joy up. Over the layer of frosting, she now had butter and various types of grease. She smelled of rosemary and garlic and chicken fat, with hints of oranges. The baby dragon yawned but otherwise slept through the quick warm bath in the sink with a large dose of dish soap to strip off the grease.

“What are we going to tell Mom and Dad?” Louise cried as she quickly dried Joy with a clean tea towel.

“That those men also took all the food in the fridge.” Jillian dumped the chicken bones into the trashcan and covered them up with the torn foam from the living room couch.

“Why would anyone break into a house and steal leftovers? Mom and Dad are never going to believe—”

“Why would anyone steal our toothbrushes?” their father said as he came down the steps with the police officer. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Was it an expensive electric toothbrush?” The cop made notes on his tablet.

“No, they were just normal toothbrushes like you get at the supermarket. They’re — what, ten dollars? I don’t know. Who takes used toothbrushes?”

“You got me,” the cop said. “First time I’ve seen it. So, what was in the safe in the bedroom?”

“Just paperwork. It was basically a fireproof filing box. It had our passports and marriage license and birth certificates and things like that. God, what a nightmare.”

“You’re alive and your family is fine,” the cop said. “Count your blessings.”