“So am I,” the girl said.
“Yeah? Let’s see your fangs.” The boy was genuinely interested enough that he thrust his treat bag in my direction without checking to see what he might be getting.
Ilya’s voice came out of the darkness. “It is impolite to show fang in public.”
Unless you’re going to bite someone.
I knew that wasn’t quite true, since Ilya showed a hint of fang when he was amused—or threatening someone—but I imagine he didn’t want Sanguinati youngsters to be thought of as some kind of entertainment. Gimme a nickel and I’ll show you fang.
The young vampires, both real and wannabes, retreated. The car ferrying human children went down the access road.
Three more Sanguinati approached. Teenagers. The girl was gorgeous and seemed a little shy, which struck me as the perfect bait for the kind of man who thought shy meant being unable to say no. One boy had pleasant looks, while the other had the sort of looks that made me think he would be able to challenge Ilya for the title of Mr. Yummy in a few years.
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.