Slowly, unwillingly, the gardener turned to face us, and I saw he was shaking.
I didn’t draw the guns to the gardener’s attention, but he saw them, all right, clear as I saw the hedge shears.
“Yes, ma’am? Can I help you?” he said, evenly enough. He was a tall, wide man with a broad face, very dark. I thought he was bald under his wide-brimmed hat. His clothes weren’t rags, but they weren’t too far off.
“Some people we know are here, and we want to talk to them,” I said. “Harriet Ritter and Travis Seeley.”
“I don’t know anyone of that name,” he said. “Either one.”
He hadn’t done anything to me and I didn’t want to shoot him, but I would if I had to. It occurred to me it might shake up his memory if I told him that, and I did.
“Why would you shoot me? I ain’t done nothing to you,” he said reasonably. There was a quaver in his voice, though.
“You are not telling me the truth. I want to see the two people I mentioned,” I said. “Just so you know, shooting one more person isn’t going to burden me any.” That might not be the whole truth, but I wanted him to believe it was.
There was a long moment where nothing happened, and I was sure I’d have to kill him. But just when I decided to raise the gun, the screen door squeaked open and a woman appeared, wearing a gray uniform that didn’t do her glowing brown skin any favors. The woman was scrawny, stiff with fear, and she held open the door to let Harriet Ritter follow her out onto the porch.
Harriet’s nice clothes were rumpled as if she’d slept in them. Her face was bruised. Though Harriet looked at me directly, I could not read her face.
“Lizbeth,” she said, without any expression. “Why are you here?”
“The hotel asked us to find you. They want to know whether you’re giving up your room or not.” I had hidden the gun in the folds of my skirt. I held it out a little now, to show Harriet I was armed. “I can go back to pack up your stuff. You let me know what you want to do.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Another woman stepped out of the darkness of the house. Her iron-gray hair was rolled up behind her head. Her face was wrinkled and her eyes pouchy, but she wore a pearl necklace and earrings. Her dress was a limp print, dark green with light yellow butterflies. She was anything but a butterfly. More of a locust, or a scorpion. She had an ancient pistol in her left hand. She said to the black woman, “Myra, go back in the house and see to Mr. Holden.”
Myra left the porch, but she didn’t go anywhere to take care of anyone. She stood right inside the screen door. The older woman didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m Lizbeth Rose,” I called. “Who are you, to speak for Harriet?”
“I am Mary Ellen Ballard,” the older woman said, as if that name should strike fear into my heart.
There was a dark kind of buzzing just at the edge of my hearing. Something was happening in the house, and it wasn’t something good. Just when I was wishing Eli stood at my back, I heard him get out of the car.
“Mrs. Ballard,” Eli said from behind me. “It’s so good to see you again. I haven’t seen you since Amanda’s funeral. I hope you got the condolence card my guild sent after the loss of the tsarina.”
“Cards don’t mean anything at all when your daughter is dead,” Mary Ellen Ballard said, each word heavy. “You damn wizards! Couldn’t even save her life! And now you want to take away my whole life, in addition to my daughter’s. And my son’s.” She was somewhere beyond bitter, into the real biblical zone.
Mary Ellen Ballard was drunk. Or crazy. Maybe both.
Eli ignored the speech. “We need to take Harriet away from here,” Eli said. “You must let her go.”
“Why? Why must I do that?” Mrs. Ballard said, with all the assurance of someone with an army at her command. Even the man with the shears looked scared. It was all I could do not to flinch, and I was the one holding a gun.
“ ’Cause I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I said.
“My people will take care of you,” Mrs. Ballard told me scornfully. “No one will ever see you again.”
Jeez, she was creepy. “Yeah? Where are all those people? ’Cause I don’t see anyone but these two.”
Mrs. Ballard looked confused. She actually glanced around her. She appeared to be startled at the silence and the absence of her servants. “Well, I have called my friends from town,” she said haughtily, putting her confidence back on like a coat.
“Friends” was a lot longer word, the way she said it. FREEuhndss.
“We need to get out of here,” I told Eli in a real low voice. I made sure Harriet was looking at me. She still seemed stunned, not her sharp-witted self at all. But I gave my head a little jerk. She looked sideways at Mrs. Ballard and edged away from the woman.
“Don’t you move, you hussy!” Mary Ellen Ballard said, her face in a true snarl. Mrs. Ballard lunged for Harriet, who pulled herself back so the older woman’s hand missed grabbing her. Harriet scuttled down the few steps from the porch.
“Don’t stand there like a fool, catch ahold of her!” Mrs. Ballard cried out to her yard man. He saw my gun and made the good decision to stand still.
Mrs. Ballard whipped out her gun and fired. She was no gunnie. The bullet didn’t come anywhere close to Harriet.
I raised my arm to shoot the bitch, but Eli had already hit her with his magic. I didn’t know what spell he was using, but it was effective. Mary Ellen Ballard went down like a lightning-struck tree, smoking and crackling. She didn’t move after she hit the porch. The old gun lay by her twitching fingers.
That was new. I’d seen Eli knock down people in interesting ways, but this was… different.
Me, Harriet, the yard man, Myra, and maybe even Eli, were all startled. “My goodness. Did you kill her?” I said, which I thought was pretty mild.
No one moved.
“Would you mind seeing if Mrs. Ballard is alive?” I asked Myra, who was closest. I wanted to keep my gun on her, in case she roused.
“No, ma’am, I ain’t touching her,” Myra said. It was clear she’d rather play with a snake.
I went up the steps and squatted by Mary Ellen Ballard, who lay on her stomach with her face turned to one side. There was still smoke coming from under her collar, so I touched her bare neck real gingerly. Nothing. Her back wasn’t moving up and down with breath. Just to dot my i’s and cross my t’s, I took Mrs. Ballard’s hand and felt her wrist. I shook my head. “She got struck by lightning,” I said, and looked up into the clear sky.
“The old lady is dead, Franklin,” Myra said. Suddenly, shockingly, she laughed.
Franklin dropped the shears and looked up to the sky, his arms extended, his palms up. I know praying when I see it. Harriet sank down onto the top step and put her face in her hands. Eli sat down hard, sideways, in the driver’s seat of the car, his feet planted on the dirt. I looked at the body, so I’d know when it stopped smoking. I’m not sure why I thought I had to watch for that. Maybe I felt the porch would catch fire under her.
Myra said, “If Miz Ballard’s friends get here and you’re still around, they will kill you, and no one will ever know. Me and Franklin, we’re getting out of here now. The rest left already.” She ran into the house and returned with a sack. It clanked a little. I figured Myra was collecting pay owed her in a useful form. She beckoned to Franklin, and he took the bag and without any more words, they got out of there. Instead of walking down the driveway to the road, they took the route across the fields chosen by the other people we’d seen on our drive.