Ilya looked at Yorick Dane. “From this day forward, if any of you, or if anyone connected to you, tries to contact Victoria DeVine or distress her in any way or take any action that would damage the property known as The Jumble, a tight, intense tornado will form out of a cloudless sky and destroy your house and all that stands within it. It will destroy the building where you conduct your business. And it will also destroy the . . .” He turned to his companion. “What was it called?”
“Rut shack,” the man with the multicolored hair replied.
“I think humans usually use a more genteel expression.”
“Love nest?” Grimshaw suggested under his breath.
Ilya tipped his head. “Yes. Love nest.”
Constance Dane turned on her husband. “You told me you hadn’t renewed the lease on that place.”
“I didn’t!” Yorick said.
“He didn’t,” Ilya agreed. “He simply rented another one that you didn’t know about. He successfully hid it from you. He can no longer successfully hide anything because now we have reason to watch everything he does—and everyone he does.”
Grimshaw fought not to smile. If Ilya had been looking for a fitting kind of revenge against Yorick Dane, he’d found it.
“If any of you go near Victoria DeVine again, we will strip you, and anyone who helps you, of everything your greed has acquired,” Ilya said. “And then we will strip you of your skin, your muscle, and your blood. But not all at once.”
The other man picked up a rolled newspaper from the table behind him. He smiled as he held it up. “And what the tornado doesn’t take . . .”
The paper turned into a torch that burned fierce and hot and quick. And the hand that held it was made of fire, not flesh.
“I think we all understand one another.” Ilya Sanguinati walked out of the courtroom, followed by Fire, who dropped what was left of the newspaper.
No one spoke. Everyone watched the last pieces of burned, blackened paper float to the floor.
“Captain Hargreaves. Officer Grimshaw,” the judge said. “You will escort these people to the nearest railroad station and see that they get on the earliest available train to Hubb NE. I will remain here until you return. In the meantime, I will call the governor and let him know about this latest . . . development . . . between humans and the terra indigene. This court is adjourned.”
Hargreaves made the decision of who was riding with whom, giving Grimshaw the three widows and driving Yorick and Constance Dane himself. It was possible his captain wanted to give him a break and spare him from listening to the Danes snipe at each other. More likely, Hargreaves had made the decision to prevent Grimshaw from taking a very long detour into the wild country on the way to the train station.
Hargreaves knew him well.
CHAPTER 83
Vicki
Windsday, Sumor 12
“You’re moving back to The Jumble tomorrow?” Julian asked as we settled in the chairs on his porch. He had a beer; I had orange juice over ice since I was still taking a nighttime pain pill in order to sleep.
“Yes, I’m going back, although I’m not sure for how long.”
“Why?”
I hesitated. I went through so much to keep The Jumble; it was hard to admit defeat. “The Jumble is kind of notorious now.” Kind of? Newspapers from Lakeside to Hubbney and all the Finger Lakes towns in between had written about the Tie Clip Club’s schemes and scandals, and the terra indigene’s retaliation against said schemes and scandals. The one good thing that had come out of all of this was that the club had been exposed as a group of wheelers and dealers who were, quite often, underhanded in their business dealings with anyone but their own members.
“I don’t think it’s likely anyone is going to want to rent one of the cabins and take a chance of being eaten,” I finished. Or bitten by critters whose happy faces hid a different, and very lethal, form of terra indigene.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Julian asked after a minute.
“Sure.”
“Yes, The Jumble has some notoriety now, and with the ban on the Tie Clip Club members and their families, you’re not likely to get the snooty crowd coming in for a weekend of summer fun.” Julian leaned forward. “But ever since the story broke, I’ve been fielding calls from people who know people who were aware that I live in Sproing: professors from the Finger Lakes universities, and not just the Intuit university; writers and photographers who provide material for magazines like Nature!; even acquaintances from Crystalton who want to get away from home for a few days but don’t want to go far. They all tried to call The Jumble directly but couldn’t get through. I’m guessing your answering machine is full of messages. Since they couldn’t reach you, they called me, and they’re all asking the same thing: are you taking reservations?
“Vicki, this is a terra indigene settlement that not only allows human visitors to be on the land; it allows them to interact with the Others in a social setting. It’s probably not the only place where that’s possible, but I think it’s among the few, and maybe the only one around the Finger Lakes. Think of it. You can swim in a lake ruled by an Elemental. You can talk to one of the Panthergard or a Bear. You can play a game of cards with a Crow. People who want to study the terra indigene in order to understand what we humans need to do in order to survive on this continent are leaving daily messages at Lettuce Reed because we need places like this. I think we always did, and that’s why Yorick Dane’s great-great aunt built this house and the cabins in the first place, so that the terra indigene could learn about humans and we could learn about them.”
“There are terra indigene living in some of the cabins. I can’t ask them to leave. It’s more their home than anyone else’s.”
“You don’t have to ask them to leave. In fact, you shouldn’t. Having a furry neighbor is part of the appeal. And I did mention that most of the cabins were basic accommodations with toilet and shower facilities in a nearby building. Apparently, when some of these people receive permission to spend a few weeks out in the wild country to do their research or take pictures, they’re living rougher than that. They were excited and made it sound like having toilets and showers at all would be a luxury. And I’ll give you one more reason for letting whoever is already living in the cabins stay on.”
“What’s that?”
Julian sat back and raised his beer bottle in a salute. “Somebody has to take care of the goats and donkeys.”
CHAPTER 84
Grimshaw
Thaisday, Sumor 13
After suggesting that Officer Osgood go out for a foot patrol, Captain Hargreaves settled into the visitors’ chair in front of Grimshaw’s desk.
“So Vicki DeVine is moving back to The Jumble today?” Hargreaves said.
“She is. I’m taking a few hours’ personal time to help out.” Grimshaw cocked a thumb toward the windows. “Gershwin Jones is donating an upright piano in exchange for Vicki hosting a musical evening every couple of weeks. He figures it will bring people into his store for sheet music or smaller instruments. Might even encourage some of Sproing’s residents to take music lessons from him. So I’m helping him muscle the piano into the truck and out again.”