“Like I was sayin’, boy, they cleaned up your house right good. Hung the door back, even. I reckon your fool neighbors are believin’ them tales about street kids and fireworks.”
“Easier to believe than the truth.”
Mama waved a forkful of green beans at me. “And just what is the truth, boy? That you were set upon by unholy critters raised up by them what we is all warned never to name?”
“Mama.” Gertriss put down her empty fork. “Couldn’t we talk about something else?”
“Why should we? You goin’ to hide on this boat forever, are ye? Eatin’ meals you ain’t paid for, keepin’ company with folks who is likely the root of your troubles?”
Mama was staring at me when she spoke, but Gertriss reddened like she’d been slapped.
“That’s enough.” I glared. “Mama. I’ve known you since the War. I cannot believe you’d stoop to insulting a man’s table with a mouth full of his supper.”
“I ain’t insulting him,” said Mama. She turned her gaze toward Stitches. “Oh, I sees you, right enough. And what I can’t see I can surmise. Fancy wand-waver, thinkin’ she’d make a mock of old Mama! Well, old I may be, but I ain’t blind. Not where it counts. I sees you, all wrapped up in shadows. Might as well come out and say how-do-ye-do all polite like.”
Stitches shrugged, and though she didn’t change at all to my eyes Mama crowed in triumph.
“I knowed it! Boy, I’ve seen this one pokin’ around too, thinkin’ she walked all hid in the dark.” Mama snapped her greasy fingers. “Ha!”
Well done, Mrs. Hog. Stitches reached up and removed her mask, revealing her sewn-shut eyes and lips. Not one in ten thousand professional sorcerers could have seen through my glamour. May I inquire as to how you accomplished this?
Mama puffed up like a well-fed jaybird.
“I keeps special moon-blessed water in a wash pot out back,” she said. “Them puddles in the sidewalk you stepped over? I could see your reflection, plain as day.”
Stitches nodded. Intriguing. I believed myself safe from such a stratagem. Would you be willing to divulge the precise nature of your blessing? I would compensate you for the information, of course.
Mama cackled. “Well, ain’t this a historical occasion! The likes of you, wantin’ to pay the likes of me.” She pretended to consider the offer for a moment, chewing noisily as she paused. “Well, and mainly because this is a damn fine cut o’ beef, I’ll take yer coin.”
Excellent. Shall we take to the deck so that we may speak privately?
“I would sure enjoy one of them fancy cigars,” said Mama. Evis slid one across the table without comment.
“Thankee very much,” said Mama, winking at me as she rose. “We gots to talk business.”
Stitches rose as well, following Mama through the doors and onto the Queen’s wide deck.
Gertriss let out her breath in a heartfelt sigh. Evis drained his glass, put it down, and drained it yet again as soon as Dutson refilled it.
“Going to have to give Stitches a raise,” he said.
“You think she let Mama see her?”
“Hell yes, she let Mama see her. No offense, Markhat, Gertriss, but Stitches is a Corps-worthy talent. Mama knows a trick or two, no doubt, but-”
“Somebody’s being played,” I agreed. I wasn’t quite so sure Mama was the one being deceived. “So, some old spook is still watching my house. Troubling.”
“That it is. But I wouldn’t panic just yet. We’ll find out who’s behind this. If they’re after the huldra, I’m sure we can think of a way to convince them you haven’t got it.”
I nodded, more for Darla’s benefit than because I believed any such thing.
“The meal has been marvelous,” said Darla. “Dutson, I hope you’ll tell the kitchen staff I said so. I’ve never had a better supper, and that’s the truth.”
He smiled a refined, close-lipped smile. “Very good, madam. I shall inform them. We are happy to have been of service.”
Evis motioned for a refill. Gertriss shot him a look but didn’t speak.
I put my napkin down by my empty plate and stood. “My dear, I believe friend Stitches might soon need rescuing. Would you care for a moonlit stroll on the deck? I hear the spinnakers are lovely in the moonlight.”
Darla rose. “Evis. Gertriss. Good evening, if we don’t see you again tonight.”
Both wished us the same. Neither put much heart into it. Dutson, seeing the lay of the land, ambled quietly away.
The Ogres still flanked the main doors, their big owl eyes gleaming and alert in the dark. “Good evening, gents,” I said, dipping my own eyes in a display of good Ogre manners. “Which way did they go? The small woman and the loud one?”
Four owl eyes darted right. I put Darla’s hand in the crook of my elbow and turned to the left.
“I thought we were going to save Miss Stitches,” she whispered.
“Ha. I’m pretty sure neither her nor Mama needs saving.”
Darla laughed and sidled up close beside me. She smelled of the fancy, peach-scented soap we’d found in the bathroom. “So was that an excuse just to get me out on the deck alone?”
“My brilliant plot is undone,” I said. “Woe is me.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Being the obliging sort, I obliged. I may have obliged four or five times before we both heard Mama’s raucous laughter rise up into the night.
“Mama’s made a friend,” murmured Darla.
“Too bad it wasn’t Evis.” I shifted a bit, because something nautical was pressing uncomfortably into the small of my back, and that’s when I saw a familiar small, blonde banshee peek around a stack of crates at the far end of the Queen’s private wharf.
Darla followed my gaze. We waited a moment, and there she was again, glowing faintly this time.
“Dammit.”
“It’s no good locking her in,” said Darla. “And with all of us here…”
“We’d better find Mama. Angels know what might happen if Buttercup tries to board.”
Darla pulled away and we made for the sound of Mama’s laughter at a trot.
We hadn’t gotten halfway when Buttercup simply appeared, right in front of us.
She hugged my legs and squealed. Darla caught her up and held her close.
We waited.
Lightning did not flare. Walls of flame failed to rise roaring up around us. No horns blew. No black-clad Avalante soldiers surrounded us with guns.
Buttercup giggled and squirmed.
“So much for the Queen being impregnable,” I muttered.
“I’ll keep her here. Surely Mama can get her home.”
“She’d better.” I pretended to steal Buttercup’s nose, and she played along, grabbing and laughing.
“Back in a flash,” I said, and I was off.
I made for the sound of Mama’s voice at a run. Buttercup had just breached the best defenses Avalante could muster without any apparent effort. While Evis was practically an uncle to the banshee, his bosses might not prove so charitable, if they ever learned of her abilities.
Mama and Stitches were leaning against the rail, looking out at the sluggish waters of the Brown. Mama’s cigar glowed red in the dark. Stitches had pulled back her hood, so the cool night air blew over her ruined face.
“You should have brung a cigar, boy,” said Mama. “‘Cause I ain’t sharing this here one.”
“She behaving herself?”
We have had a delightful chat. Missus Hog is privy to a practice I thought long dead.
“I’m privy to lots of things.” Mama sucked at the cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring, better than any Evis ever made. “Folks would do well to remember that.”
Indeed. Stitches pulled her hood up before she turned to face me. Good evening, Missus Hog, Mr. Markhat. I have work to do.
“Good evenin’ to you too,” said Mama, between puffs. Stitches glided away, more ghost than girl.