Imprudence. Youthful excitement or the need to show off to someone?
Looking at Ilya’s grim expression, I realized he had three Sanguinati names at the top of his list of suspects.
CHAPTER 45
Grimshaw
Watersday, Novembros 3
Grimshaw was reaching for the door of the TV room when he heard a piercing scream coming from the downstairs washroom. Before he could take a step in response, the TV room door opened and Ian Stern rammed into him.
“Chief! I heard . . .” Ian stopped and stared as Wilma Cornley rushed toward them trying to straighten her clothes, quickly followed by Fred Cornley, who was also straightening his clothes.
“There’s something in the powder room!” she shrieked. “It appeared behind us in the mirror! It . . . it was watching . . .” She stopped, as if suddenly realizing that everyone had a good idea of what the something was watching.
Vicki, rushing toward the commotion, spun around and ran back to the reception desk. By the time Julian and Michael joined the group to find out what had happened, Vicki had returned and held up the sign that said: If your behavior attracts attention, YOU have to explain that behavior to someone who might eat you. Good luck.
Wilma fell against Fred in a dramatic swoon just as two females drifted toward them from the direction of the washroom. One left drops of water on the floor. The other, more ethereal, Elemental asked in a tone that mimicked a scientist discussing a test subject, “Since they can’t see the sex parts, what is the point of humans looking at themselves in a mirror when they are mating?”
Air and Water looked at all the humans present and waited for an answer.
Since it was unlikely that the Cornleys would end up being eaten, Grimshaw chose a strategic retreat. He gave the Elementals a nod and said, “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on a wounded man.”
He pushed past Ian Stern, went into the TV room, and shut the door. A psychologist and a writer interested in the terra indigene should be able to handle the Q&A portion of the evening, and Julian would look after Vicki and make sure she wasn’t heading for an anxiety meltdown. She seemed to be holding up well, despite the shock of having someone else die at The Jumble, but if guests started yelling at her, that might tip her over the edge.
Ben Malacki sat on the other side of the room from David Shuman and Jenna McKay, who had bloody hands and a pale face.
“I think the bleeding has stopped,” Jenna said. “I don’t think any of the wounds are that deep.”
“Not deep?” David Shuman said in a voice stripped of vigor. He tried to move, ignoring Jenna telling him to stay still. “That . . . creature . . . tried to eviscerate me!”
“If he’d been trying, they’d be shoveling your guts off the floor,” Grimshaw replied. He leaned over Shuman and pointed a finger at Jenna. “Let me see the wounds so I can determine who needs to come out here.” He’d already called the EMTs and Doc Wallace, and they were on their way, but it seemed better to downplay this conflict if that was possible.
Jenna eased a blood-soaked T-shirt off the wounds. Fresh blood immediately welled up—a sluggish flow but still a concern.
Just as well he’d called Doc along with the EMTs. The EMT vehicle was fitted like a mobile trauma unit, and any of the EMTs probably could stitch up those wounds just fine. But this was one of Vicki’s guests, as well as a suspect in the current troubles happening around Sproing. Better to have Doc take care of the stitching and whatever shots might be required.
“I need a hospital,” Shuman said.
“There’s no way to get you to one, so you’re getting the doc and the EMTs,” Grimshaw replied as he headed for the door. He stopped and looked at Shuman. “The doc is also the village’s medical examiner. Something to keep in mind before you piss off the Bear again.” Or someone far more dangerous.
He walked out of the room—and found no one until he reached the reception desk. Ilya sat on the stool behind the desk, reading Vicki’s guest register and making notes on a pad of lined paper.
“I gave the Cornleys permission to go up to their suite to finish copulating, although I think their enthusiasm for that activity has waned for the evening,” Ilya said. “Viktor and Karol are with Kira and the Crows in the kitchen. Victoria, Julian, and the Sterns are in the library, distracting themselves with books.”
“Air and Water?” Grimshaw asked.
“Have left the building. I imagine they’ve gone to entertain their kin by relating the human behavior they observed.”
“And you?” He had to talk to Cougar about bringing Doc and the EMTs up to the main house. But first he needed to confirm that the other people here weren’t in immediate danger.
“I’m making a list of all of Victoria’s guests for the past month,” Ilya replied. He removed a folded sheet of paper from beneath the pad and held it out. “You should add this to the information you collate from police in other parts of the Finger Lakes.”
Grimshaw opened the paper. Four Sanguinati names and the names of the towns and villages near the youngsters’ home territories. “You think one of them is involved?”
“Until this evening, I didn’t have a convincing reason to distrust any of the fosterlings in my care. Now?” A tiny movement of Ilya’s shoulder that Grimshaw recognized as a shrug. “Something about Kira’s and Viktor’s visit to Silence Lodge doesn’t ring true, but I have not, as yet, figured out why. And something—or someone—drew Crowbones to Lake Silence. Lastly, someone called Peter Lynchfield and enticed him to come to The Jumble on the night humans were supposed to stay away and stay out of sight. Until we find who is responsible, there are not many people either of us can afford to trust—even among our own.”
“I’m going to tape off that vehicle and the body, then help Cougar bring the EMTs and Doc Wallace up here,” he said. “Shouldn’t be long. After that, I’ll interview the people here and get some answers.” One way or another. If he had to march each guest out to the car and have them look at Lynchfield’s body, he’d do it. These people were too cavalier about staying in a terra indigene settlement. They were treating this whole thing like being in a fun house at a county fair. The scary stuff ended when you walked out the door and nothing could really hurt you.
Here the deadly began when a person walked out the door.
Pushing that thought aside, Grimshaw walked out of the main house and felt the dark like a physical weight. He’d never minded the dark when he’d worked highway patrol, the hours of late night. But he’d usually been tucked into his small apartment or driving his cruiser along his designated route, comforted by the illusion that metal and speed could win against whatever might be out there, watching. Waiting.