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.
CHAPTER 5
Grimshaw
Windsday, Grau 31
When his mobile phone started buzzing, Grimshaw stepped away from the door, far enough for some privacy and still close enough to have a chance to reach safety if any of The Jumble’s more dangerous residents were out there in the dark observing this human ritual. “Grimshaw.”
“Sir?” Osgood said. “We just received an unusual message.”
Not what he wanted to hear on Trickster Night. “And?” When there was no response, he wondered if he’d lost the connection. “Osgood? You there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The message?”
“Jack-o’-lantern. Bones. Black feathers. Rattlesnake tail.” A shaky breath. “Coffin.”
Crap. “Who called that in?”
“Captain Burke. From Lakeside. He said the message came from a girl in the Courtyard.”
Gods above and below. “Girl in the Courtyard” meant the blood prophet. And that meant this wasn’t a Trickster Night prank. “Did Burke say anything else?”
“He said a question was asked four times. The answer for Talulah Falls, Great Island, and Lakeside was the first four images. Lake Silence was the only one that had the coffin.”
“Call Ineke Xavier. Tell her to keep an eye on her guests. And watch your back.”
“Yes, sir.”
He ended the call and returned to the front door, reaching it at the same time as four teenage boys swaggered up to leer at Vicki DeVine in a way that was meant to frighten any woman with sense. Since aggressive men tended to send Vicki into severe anxiety attacks, he gave a quick prayer of thanks to Mikhos, the guardian spirit of police, firefighters, and medical personnel, that Ilya Sanguinati hadn’t returned yet.
“You’re a little old for this, aren’t you?” he asked, working to balance the voice he wanted to use with a tone and volume that wouldn’t cause Vicki to collapse.
“Aren’t you?” the one who had a fake hatchet buried in his head replied.
So. Not local boys if they didn’t know who he was. They might have rented one of the campers on the edge of the village in order to be in Sproing for Trickster Night. With that attitude, they wouldn’t have lasted long enough at Ineke’s to unpack, let alone put on costumes that made them look like they were extras in a horror movie.
A second boy looked at Vicki in a way that made Grimshaw want to haul the fool to the station and check if he had any arrests for assaulting women.
Grimshaw took a step closer to Vicki, letting his size provide a shield—and knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Four young males full of themselves—and probably full of something else. Drugs? Might be. They must have left their car near the end of the access road. Long way to walk in the dark, especially around here.
Hatchet Head smiled. “You’re in the way.”
Which was the point. “You boys run along now.”
“Not until we get our treat. You don’t want us to start playing tricks, do you?”
Behind him, Grimshaw heard Vicki whispering, “Be brave, be brave, be brave.” He wanted to tell her this wasn’t the time to be brave. This was a time to lock the doors and call the cops before . . .
“Monkey man,” a female voice sang out of the dark.
“Moooonkey man,” a second female voice sang.
Grimshaw shuddered. He’d hoped never to hear those voices again.
“Come play tricks with us, monkey mans,” a third female voice sang.
Now there was movement behind him, and suddenly Vicki was gone and Conan and Cougar were at his back, filling up the doorway.
“Wayne, come inside,” Julian said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do. Those fools are standing in the wild country.”
“I could arrest them and let them spend the night in a cell,” he replied.
“Arrest us?” the third boy sneered. “For what?”
“For being a pain in my ass. Since I’m the chief of police around here and this is Trickster Night, that’s enough of a reason.” And it will keep you alive.
He felt something press against his shoulder, felt whiskers tickle his cheek before a low, angry sound resonated through his back and into his chest. And he heard Julian whisper, “Don’t look.”
The teenage fools were looking right at whatever pushed against him—and he watched four swaggering pricks turn into squealing children, losing control of their bladders seconds before they ran down the access road.
A satisfied growl.
Then Vicki, her voice vibrating with suppressed panic, said, “Cougar? That’s a too-scary face for our party.”
Cougar pushed past Grimshaw, disappearing beyond the lit areas.
Conan huffed out a breath that could have knocked down a small child. “Need to get rid of that smell, or everything in The Jumble will be coming by to mark territory and warn off the intruders.”
Grimshaw shuddered at the thought of the Elders who lived on this land marking territory just beyond Vicki’s front door—especially when the main house was full of strangers tonight.
Very quiet strangers.
He turned and studied the partygoers. Humans on one side of the big entrance hall, terra indigene on the other side. Vicki standing in between with Julian’s arm around her for support. And everyone looking at him.
He looked at Julian, who shook his head.
Julian Farrow was an Intuit, a kind of human who sensed things. They didn’t see visions of the future like the cassandra sangue did, but they had feelings about people or places. Julian was a living barometer for the health of a place. He sensed when something was going wrong.
Grimshaw didn’t know if that head shake meant there was nothing he could do or it was already too late to do anything.
Ilya and Natasha approached from the back of the building. They must have come in through the screened back porch and kitchen.