Lucien had set up methods to remotely monitor the Kryskill family. He had tracked them compulsively over years; he had even had someone attending their church and playing bingo every week for eight years. Immediately after Boo’s disappearance from the fish hatchery in July, the family showed no real deviations from their normal pattern. Boo’s mother, Amanda Kryskill, owned a coffee shop downtown. She worked long hours on weekdays, opening at the crack of dawn and closing at six. It made it easy to keep tabs on her. Their people who worked as moles in the EIA would stop for coffee several times a day in July — until Maynard arrested most of their spies in his organization. The only recent change in Amanda’s routine had been an increase of phone use during work hours and marathon cookie baking sessions with her sisters every weekend.
Boo’s oldest brother, Alton, foraged for fish, game, and produce to sell to the enclaves. He was the hardest to keep track of. He still officially lived at home with his mother but camped out in the South Hills during the warmer months. Lucien had only monitored Alton via a true blood oni squatting in an abandoned Catholic high school across the street from the enclaves. Reports showed that Alton made all his deliveries — until the Wyverns ferreted out all the disguised oni in Oakland, ending reports on Alton.
According to Lucien’s notes, the furniture-maker brother, Geoffrey, had claimed a stately Victorian mansion near his mother’s house but didn’t seem to actually live there. Since last year, he had been keeping odd hours, often working late at his workshop, sometimes falling asleep at his desk, sometimes driving to an artists’ commune in the Strip District to sleep there. His change of pattern seemed to be due to his success at selling his furniture to a high-end showroom on Earth.
The police officer brother, Marc, had been at roll call without fail all through July, August, and into September. The baker brother, Duff, had clocked into work every weekday before the crack of dawn. The teenager brother, Guy, had gotten into trouble at summer school as normal until the end of July, and then spent most of August hanging out with his cousins and brothers.
The older sister, Jane, worked on a television gardening show that seemed to routinely set buildings and people on fire. The notes on the various episodes across eight years made the host sound like an arsonist — several employees, the station’s break room, a score of shooting sites, and various homeowners had fallen victim to the man. There been two noteworthy incidents in July. The first had been on Startup when he set himself on fire and landed in Mercy Hospital, allowing him to film Tinker’s kidnapping.
The second arson victim had been an EIA private guarding a female tengu who had been found trapped within the ruins of the fish hatchery. The female obviously had been searching for Joey Shoji and the boy had obviously been found by the tengu at some point, but not that day. Lucien’s people in the EIA had reported that the television crew had been attempting to get an interview with the prisoner, and while the fire helped to distract the guards, the prisoner had escaped under her own power.
Another elegant note written by Chloe, this time replying to a more direct email asking “Is there a connection between the hatchery and the television show?” Chloe was less poetic this time, reporting that she personally witnessed Maynard calling Jane’s crew in as biology experts and giving them the job of killing the namazu. Chloe was sure that it was mere chance that put Jane at Sandcastle. Chloe had a deadly flaw, though, of underestimating her enemy. The resources that the Kryskills had mustered to kill the adult namazu and the zeal that they put into finding every last egg highlighted how dangerous they could be. Had Chloe been wrong?
Lucien’s reports slowly fragmented after that point as their father shifted resources and the EIA dug out their moles. What Lucien did have seemed to indicate that the family hadn’t changed their behavior. The only deviation from normal could be explained by an upcoming wedding. Lucien’s people had intercepted a wedding invitation addressed to a woman named Cesia Cwiklinski. Jane Kryskill was getting married to a man with the unlikely name of Keaweaheulu Ka’ihikapu Taggart.
“How did you pronounce that?” Tristan muttered. “What ethnic group is that? Wait a minute. I know him.”
Tristan dug out his own tablet to check his records. Keaweaheulu Taggart was the cameraman for the world-famous naturalist Nigel Reid. The two men had been at the NBC mid-summer gala in New York City. While Tristan had no verification of it, the twins most likely met Nigel there. (Tristan hadn’t been able to attend since his mother was there.) The event was set up to bring wealthy fans together with their favorite NBC stars. Considering his mother’s plans for the evening, it was possible that Nigel might have been unwitting bait to guarantee that she got her way.
Still, it seemed fishy to Tristan that Taggart had been at the gala and now here, on a totally different world, getting married to Boo’s sister. Tristan didn’t trust coincidences; he’d set up too many for him to believe that pure chance dictated people’s movements. “People without motivation sit at home, watching television. Everyone else has ulterior motives.”
As he reviewed his notes on Taggart, he couldn’t see any real connection between the twins and the man. Yes, the twins’ silly videos had triggered a huge interest in Elfhome, too large to be ignored by the American television networks. Chased by Monsters was given the greenlight, though by a network that had no idea who the twins were. Someone managed to bypass his father’s gatekeepers and gotten Taggart’s and Reid’s visa applications approved. His mother had invited the Mayers to the gala in order to get the entire family out of their house so it could be searched. Tristan knew that the twins were huge fans of the naturalist even though Tristan had tried to ignore their personal interests. He had been assigned to protect them, not be their friend.
It had been hard. The twins had reminded him of Esme. The way that they laughed. The set of their mouths when they were angry. The way they took life head-on. The way they plowed through adults. Even the weird little cat noise that they made when they sneezed was like Esme. Everything about them made him mourn his lost sister.
He knew that their father would see the twins as disposable tools.
He also knew how much it hurt his mother to have lost all her children. Tristan hadn’t been able to give his mother flowers that last time he went to see her, but he’d been able to give her two granddaughters.
He was wasting time thinking about the twins; there was nothing he could do now. They were on Earth and their older sister, the changeling, had trapped him on Elfhome. His mother would be able to keep the twins safe until they could fend for themselves. Judging by their older sister, that wouldn’t take long.
He should be thinking about Boo. Within hours, their main attack would start. He needed a plan of action. He opened a new folder on his own tablet and started to photograph Lucien’s handwritten notes on the Kryskills. If Tristan was going to be chasing after the girl, he couldn’t carry the incriminating newspaper clippings with him, nor the unsecure iPad filled with damning video.