Sweep in Peace

Chapter Seven

We entered the inn twenty minutes before the start of the summit. Jack greeted us in the front room. A wide grin split his face.

He looked Sophie up and down, scrutinizing her gown and the two swords she carried in her hands. “What is it you’re wearing? Are you trying to be mistaken for a girl?”

Sophie arched her eyebrows and punched him in the arm.

“What was that for?”

“That was for leaving without telling anyone good-bye.”

I turned to George, who was carrying Sophie’s large canvas bag. “You can set that down.”

He carefully placed the bag on the floor and it sank into the wood. Sophie’s eyes widened.

“Come with me, please,” I told her. “I will show you to your room.”

I led her down the east hallway. The best place would be near Caldenia, in the neutral wing. I had already explained the inn and the rules of being a guest. “I’m going to put you next to a permanent guest of the inn.”

“You’re irritated with George,” Sophie said. “Why?”

I blinked.

“Don’t feel bad. You hid it very well, but I’ve been trained to read body language.”

I sighed. “I have to be there when the summit starts, so I have less than fifteen minutes with you. Welcoming a guest to the inn is a duty innkeepers hold sacred. It must be done properly, but George left me no time. I hate to rush.”

Caldenia stepped out of her room. “Another guest? How delightful.”

“Her Grace, Caldenia ka ret Magren,” I said.

Sophie dropped into an elegant curtsy and rose.

Caldenia’s eyes sparkled. “And what is your name, my dear?”

“Sophie.”

“Just Sophie?”

Sophie smiled. “For now.”

“Are you going to view the summit?” Caldenia asked.

“I was considering it.”

“You absolutely must visit me. I have an entire balcony to myself.”

“I would be delighted,” Sophie said.

“It is settled then.” Her Grace smiled and proceeded down the hallway, her gown flaring behind her with regal majesty.

I paused before the door. Normally I would have offered Sophie some refreshments and spoken with her in the front room, slowly building her room based on her responses. There was no time. I had to guess. Argh. What would Sophie like? She held herself with a kind of measured poise that seemed natural but was probably the result of years of etiquette training and education. Caldenia had picked up on it immediately. They were from different worlds, but they likely moved in similar circles, those of aristocratic, educated women. When I looked at her, I pictured her in a Southern mansion, all white colonnades and plush furniture, but something didn’t feel quite right. So, clean and elegantly muted furnishings in a traditional style or the tastefully elaborate pattern medley of English countryside?

“She isn’t human, is she?” Sophie asked.

“No.”

“Her teeth are sharp and pointed.”

“She is very dangerous,” I said. There was something about Sophie behind all that polish and refinement, a kind of hidden fragility. Perhaps fragility was the wrong word. Brittleness, like a blade that was too sharp. No, neither clean and elegant nor elaborate. Damn it, George. I had to commit to something. I couldn’t just stand there before the door.

Go with your gut feeling. That’s what Mom always said.

“Caldenia will do nothing to harm you because the inn is her refuge and she knows that attacking another guest, unless it was done in self-defense, would violate our agreement. She is very manipulative, however.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sophie said.

I opened the door. Golden pine floors stretched to the wooden walls painted a gentle beige. I’d left the wall framing exposed, as if all the insulation had been stripped out. A simple but comfortable bed, built with rough Louisiana cypress, offered a thick mattress in a sturdy frame, plush white covers, and plump pillows. A beige woven rug, none too new, shielded the floor. Pale green curtains framed two wide windows, offering a view of the orchard. Between them a door permitted access to a long wooden balcony. A rough-hewn bookshelf in the corner held several paperbacks. A weapon rack waited next to the bookshelf, ready to receive swords.

Rustic modern. I had no idea why I went that way, but it felt right.

I turned to Sophie and almost stepped back. She looked shocked.

Damn it, she hated it. What was I thinking? Mixing pine and cypress, it didn’t even make sense…

“Would you like a different room?”

“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No, this is perfect.”

The floor parted and her bag surfaced.

“As part of the Arbitrator’s personnel, you have access to most of the inn,” I said. “If you would like to join us on the main floor, turn right and go down two flights of stairs. If you would prefer to join Her Grace, turn left, make another left at the next hallway, and keep walking until you reach a large gray door.”

“Thank you.”

“If you need any information, just ask the inn. Gertrude Hunt will extend you every possible courtesy.”

Five minutes until summit. I badly needed to go to the bathroom before I got down there.

Sophie brushed the wood of the sword stand with her fingertips. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?”

I had no idea what she meant by that, so I listened.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Sophie said. “Do you believe in destiny, Dina?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because six years ago something took my parents. It ripped them out of my life and made them disappear. I can’t believe that after everything they’ve gone through and everything they have done, that would be their destiny. I refuse to let their existence be erased. We make our own choices in life. Our actions shape our lives, and we alone are responsible for them.”

“When I was younger, my mother was taken from me by our enemies,” Sophie said.

“Did you find her?”

“My sister did, but by that time she was no longer my mother.” A shadow of old grief clouded her eyes, blunted, but still raw and furious. “There is nothing that hurts more when you’re a child. I hope you find your parents, Dina. I really sincerely do.”

“Thank you.”

A wallop of magic resonated through the inn and my head. I turned to the wall. “Outer perimeter.”

A container the size of a house sat in the field on the edge of my orchard. A stylized symbol of the Office of Arbitration, the scales with two weights in the balance glowing gently with white, marked it. What now?

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Of course.”

I left Sophie to her own devices and went downstairs.

George met me at the foot of the stairs.

“What are you planning?” I asked as we turned toward the grand ballroom.

“Just a small demonstration for the public good,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re apologizing in advance.”

“Yes.”

Never a good sign.

I had expected George to open the negotiations with whatever wonderful surprise he left in the orchard, but he began the session just as he had yesterday, by escorting the leaders to their table. Almost three hours had passed, and nothing out of the ordinary took place.

The vampires looked mercilessly bored. The Merchants gathered in a circle around one of the older foxes, who was explaining something that required waving of paws and twitching of ears. Some of the otrokars abandoned all pretense at politeness and stretched out on the floor. One of the larger, older otrokar warriors was snoring. A couple of younger ones watched him, exchanging speculative glances. If they pulled out the interstellar equivalent of a magic marker and started drawing a penis on his forehead, I would have to step in.

I should’ve brought a book, except I wouldn’t be able to read it. I had to watch the lot of them. I glanced up to the balcony where Caldenia and Sophie seemed engaged in some entertaining discussion. I wished I could be up there. Anything was better than this boredom.

Magic wailed in my head, emanating from the far side of the orchard. Here we go.

The opaque partition separating the leaders of the factions slid down, and George stepped out, his face concerned, the top of his cane glowing. “My sincerest apologies!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and turned to him.

“Would you care to explain this?” I asked.

“Yes, Arbitrator,” Nuan Cee said.

“I’m afraid one of our Sentinel guard units is malfunctioning.” George’s face was the definition of apologetic regret.

“You brought a Sentinel unit here?” Khanum’s eyebrows crept up.

“Only for emergencies, I assure you.” George turned to me. “Could I trouble you for a visual?”

I turned to the left wall. “Visual of the orchard, please.”

The wall glowed, presenting the image of the orchard. The Arbitrator’s container lay shattered. A wide strip of plowed earth cut through the field, veering to the brush where trees lay snapped. The sound of wood snapping echoed through the ballroom. A dark blur dashed behind the trees, dirt flew, and a huge metal contraption shot into the open. It looked like three complex frames of black metal, each a foot thick and bearing armored panels revolving over each other, all anchored by a glowing blue ball in the center, about six feet wide. The Sentinel hovered in place for a brief second. Bladed chains shot out of it. The Sentinel spun like a dervish, the blades barely three feet from the nearest apple trees.

No. He wouldn’t dare.

Two feet. George gave me an apologetic smile.

The blade chipped the bark. No, no, no…

The Sentinel veered left. The blade passed cleanly through the apple trunk.

He didn’t.

The tree collapsed with an ear-splitting crack.

He was out of his mind. “Lord Camarine,” I growled.

“This is simply dreadful,” George said. “My deepest, sincerest apologies.”

The second tree fell. I raised my broom. Demonstration or not, he would regret this.

“No, no, please. We’ll take care of it. I insist.” He glanced up to the balcony. “Sophie, would you mind?”

Sophie rose and left the balcony.

He chopped down my apple trees. He would pay for this.

“A human?” Arland asked. “You are sending a human against that?”

Robart pointed at the Sentinel, which had veered away from the orchard and was spinning in the field. “That is a Class 6 mass-casualty guard unit. This thing is designed to be nearly indestructible. It will take concentrated laser fire or KPSM to take it down.”

“KPSM?” I was too mad to keep the fury out of my voice.

“Kinetic Projectile of Significant Mass,” Robart said.

“He means a giant chunk of metal launched from the cannon of a spaceship in orbit,” Lady Isur told me.

Sophie appeared on the screen, walking through the orchard, still wearing her gray gown and carrying a sword in a sheath in her left hand. Her expression was resigned, her eyes sad. The Sentinel was a full twenty feet in diameter, bigger with chains and blades out. She was barely five and a half feet tall. Even if she was the best swordswoman in the history of the universe, it was like trying to stop a semi barreling down the highway with a toothpick.

“This is suicide.” Dagorkun glanced at his mother. “I can take a squad right now. Give us twenty minutes, we’ll turn it into scrap metal.”

Khanum’s eyes narrowed. She raised her hand and Dagorkun fell silent.

“We are in a residential neighborhood,” I ground out. “There is a limit to how long I can hide this. I’m going to take care of it.”

George shot me a warning glance. “Please. It’s my mess. Let me clean it up.”

I stared at him, wishing I could shoot laser beams out of my eyes.

Sophie bent down, picked up the hem of her gown, and ripped the fabric to midthigh.

The Sentinel sighted her. Its metal frames slid against each other. Spikes sprang up, shielding the panels. The blue glow pulsed and the Sentinel shot toward Sophie, an enormous, furious multiton tornado of razor-sharp metal.

Sophie leaned forward slightly on her toes.

She was going to get run over. The Sentinel would splatter her on what was left of my apple trees. I squeezed my broom.

George was watching Sophie with an odd look on his face.

The Sentinel barreled toward her. A chain shot out with a foot-wide black blade on the end.

Sophie moved.

It happened so fast I didn’t actually see it. One moment she was standing still and the next the chain and the blade hurtled to the side, severed, and crashed into the brush, while Sophie was running at the Sentinel. Her sword sparked with pure white, as if someone had taken a hair-thin lightning bolt and bound it to the metal edge.

The Sentinel whirled, swinging to the side, its colossal frames rotating as the machine feverishly tried to process new data. Chains, spikes, and spears shot at Sophie. She dodged them, barely moving out of the way, graceful, beautiful, and she struck again. Her sword moved so fast it was a blur, a ghost of a movement, barely perceptible, like a puff of shimmering air shooting up from hot pavement. The Sentinel’s weapons fell apart as if they were made of brittle glass.

The Sentinel’s blue light pulsed. The colossal machine charged Sophie. It was a no-holds-barred direct assault. It meant to crush her.

She smiled. The melancholy in her eyes vanished. They shone with pure, unbridled joy. These eyes, they belonged to someone else, someone merciless and cruel and predatory. Someone who lived for a chance to take another being’s life and reveled in doing it.

The Sentinel rolled straight at her.

She struck. Her sword flashed with white, so bright it was blinding.

The machine kept rolling. Sophie had vanished. Oh no, it must’ve rolled over her…

The Sentinel fell apart. The armored frames slid apart from each other, carved into pieces, the edges of the cuts perfectly smooth. The blue sphere turned dull and drained down in a heap of loose blue powder, revealing Sophie. She grinned at the remnants of the machine, and the expression on her face sent cold shivers down my spine. Sophie had enjoyed it. She’d enjoyed every moment of it.

George, who did you bring into my inn…

Sophie sheathed her sword.

“As I said, we will make all necessary reparations…,” George started.

“This is enough diplomacy for today,” Khanum said, her voice snapping like a whip. She turned and marched out of the ballroom, her otrokars at her heels.

I watched the vampires file out of the grand ballroom. The Merchants followed.

Someone tugged on my robe. I turned. Cookie stood next to me, his big blue eyes filled with sadness. The corners of his lynx ears drooped. He looked so pitiful I almost reached out to pet his fluffy head.

“Mistress Innkeeper?” Even his voice was tiny.

“Yes?” He was so fluffy.

“You didn’t find the emerald, did you?”

“Not yet.”

His ears drooped more. He was killing me with cuteness. “Oh.”

“Is Nuan Cee giving you trouble?” I asked.

“It’s a very expensive emerald. I’m responsible to my family.”

Since the otrokars had taken their ball, no doubt made of skulls and wrapped in the skin of their enemies, and stomped off in a huff to their quarters, the peace summit had effectively ground to a halt. That meant my afternoon was free.

“I tell you what, I’ll look for it today.”

Cookie’s eyes brightened. “Thank you!”

He scampered off, caught up with the Merchant procession, and followed them out.

Nuan Cee lingered in the ballroom and approached me. “What did Nuan Couki want?”

I raised my eyebrows. “That is between Cookie and me.”

“Humph.” Nuan Cee peered at the retreating form of his thrice-removed cousin’s seventh son.

“Rough day?” I asked.

“I do not hold much hope for these negotiations,” he said.

“It’s only day two.”

Nuan Cee glanced at me. “Trade is the oldest and most noble profession in the galaxy, and making deals is its currency. It is a rite as ancient as the cosmos and the very foundation of mathematics. Something is always equal to something else and an exchange can be made. You desire something and so you surrender something to obtain the desired result. Life is trade; we trade our labor for its fruit, we trade hours of study for knowledge, we trade pleasure for pleasure or sometimes for wealth, security, or offspring. I have made thousands of deals. I cannot deal with these people. I have nothing they want. I offer them peace, but they don’t want it. They only want war.”

He shook his head.

“Give them a chance,” I said.

“I will. But I will take steps.” He sounded ominous. “Also, we have some requests. I shall send my people to you with them.”

Oh goodie. “I look forward to it.”

I sealed everyone’s doors and went into the orchard. Beast ran ahead of me and sniffed at the mangled trees.

The remnants of the Sentinel were still scattered on the ground. Four of my twenty trees lay broken. I clenched my teeth. The trees were an extension of the inn, as much as everything on the inn’s grounds was a part of Gertrude Hunt. Seeing them broken like this physically hurt. I wanted to hug them and put them back together.

George would pay for this. One way or another.

I kicked a chunk of the Sentinel’s frame. Ow.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

The remaining trees rustled.

I nodded at the Sentinel. “Take this thing. Absorb what you can.” The inn could use all that metal and advanced circuitry. George wasn’t getting any of it back.

The Sentinel sank into the ground. I reached down and petted the severed trunks. Their stems might be gone, but their roots were still there, still alive. Maybe they would return. Only time would tell. I wanted to punch George right in the face.

I went back inside, got a cup of tea, and sat down in the living room in my favorite chair. Beast hopped into her dog bed, turned around three times, and flopped.

The inn recorded every minute of the summit. It should be easy enough to find out who had taken Cookie’s emerald. I just had to watch the some five hours of recordings and figure out where it went.

“I need a screen and the recording of the first night of the summit.”

A screen descended from the ceiling, growing on a thin stalk. The recording began. I flicked through it, fast forwarding to Cookie’s entrance… The problem was he was throwing gems by the pawful. It was hard to say which specific emerald he was referring to.

I became aware of someone looming at my side and paused the recording.

“Yes?”

“Mint.” Orro shook a sprig of mint at me.

“Okay?”

He stuck the sprig under my nose. “It’s wilted! I cannot be expected to cook with wilted mint.”

“I’ll go out later today and buy more mint.”

“Good!” He thrust a piece of paper in front of me. Pictures of herbs, meat, rice, milk, and eggs filled it in two neat columns with the prices in big black numbers next to them.

“What is this?”

“Other things I need.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Your markets send out lists of groceries printed on this obsolete paper.”

“You took these from an HEB flyer?”

Orro waved his claws at me. “I don’t know what it’s called. Of all the grocery-market lists, that one was best. I need these things. We have to serve a banquet.”

I opened my mouth to argue and clamped it shut. He had a point. We hadn’t served a formal sit-down meal.

“Things!” Orro shook the paper at me.

“I will buy them.” I took the paper. “Thank you.”

He dropped a thin slice of lemon into my tea and disappeared into the kitchen.

I restarted the recording. Handfuls of gems scattering on the floor…

A soft chime announced an incoming request from a guest. I paused the recording and flicked the screen. It split, showing one of the members of Clan Nuan standing by the door leading to the ballroom. The demands Nuan Cee mentioned. I opened the door, sealed it again behind the guest, and rose when he walked into the living room. A gray fox flecked with spots of beautiful blue, he wore two gold hoops in his left ear and an apron. He was older than Cookie but younger than Nuan Cee.

“I’m Nuan Ara, Nuan Cee’s blood sister’s youngest son.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” I invited him to sit in a chair across from me and moved the screen to the left, out of the way. “What can I do to make your stay more comfortable?”

Nuan Ara folded his paws on his lap. “It is Nuan Re, the esteemed grandmother, she of great wisdom, the root from which we grow.”

“May her feet never touch the ground.” It wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew the customs. The Merchant clans revered their elders. If Grandmother wanted something, the entire clan would turn themselves inside out to get it. I had to honor this request or the Nuans would hate me forever. What could she possibly want?

“She wishes to obtain a small predator.”

“A small predator?”

“Yes.” Nuan Ara nodded. “The silent, stealthy, vicious killer that prowls by night and mercilessly murders its victims for food and pleasure.”

Um… What? “And she believes she can find this predator here?”

Nuan Ara nodded. “She has seen the images. They have glowing eyes and razor claws and are renowned for their cruelty.”

“Aha.” What was she talking about?

“She is in particular interested in the Ennui predator. She very much likes its demeanor and coloring in the images. She understands she may not get that particular one, but perhaps one that resembles it? A young one?”

The Ennui predator. “Where did she find these images?”

“On your planet’s holonet,” Nuan Ara said helpfully.

We didn’t have holonet. We had Internet… Oh. “So, the esteemed grandmother would like a kitten that looks like Grumpy Cat?” I picked up my laptop, typed in the image search for Grumpy Cat, and showed him the picture.

“Yes!”

“I will see what I can do.”

“Wonderful!” Nuan Ara rose. “Many thanks. You have the promise of our generosity.”

I waited until he returned to his quarters and shut the door behind him. I would have to stop at a local shelter and possibly PetSmart. They had silent, stealthy, vicious predators available for adoption.

Sophie walked down the stairs and came to sit across from me. She wore soft black pants that flared at the bottom and a bright green tunic that was a cross between a hooded sweatshirt and a blouse. Her feet were bare. She was carrying her sword, and her dark hair, previously arranged into a complicated knot, was pulled back into a ponytail.

“I like your floors,” she said, making small fists with her toes on the wooden boards.

“Thank you. Would you care for some tea?”

“Certainly.”

I went into the kitchen and fetched her a cup of green tea.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I restarted the recording. “Stop. Zoom.” There it was, an emerald the size of a strawberry, the most beautiful, intense green you could imagine. If spring could cry, that would be its tear. That had to be the right emerald. “One-quarter speed.”

“Did I scare you?” Sophie asked.

The emerald bounced off the floor in slow motion.

“You alarmed me. The safety of my guests is my first priority.”

“I’m not a psychopath,” Sophie said. “Nor am I psychotic.”

The emerald landed in the path of the other Nuan Merchants.

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“A psychotic suffers a break from reality, often accompanied by hallucinations and delusions. They are not aware of their own illness. I’m quite aware of my reality.”

One of the foxes kicked the emerald in passing, and the big jewel slid across the floor, spinning.

“A psychopath is unable to experience empathy. He can murder without remorse. His existence is free of guilt. His victim has no more significance to him than a used tissue he has discarded into a wastebasket. I’m able to empathize. I feel guilt and sadness, and I’m capable of acts of genuine kindness.”

She described it so clinically, almost as if talking about someone else.

“However, I’m a serial killer.”

“Pause.”

I nudged the screen to the side and looked at her. She sat in my chair, her legs tucked under her. Her sword rested on the floor next to her.

“When I was younger, I experienced some of the worst things adults could do to a child,” she said. “It caused damage, and I realize now that this damage is irreversible.”

“I’m sorry,” I said and meant it.

“When I was an adolescent, my uncle married a woman who became my second mother. She recognized that something was wrong with me, and she took me to Ganer College where the best mind-healers of my world tried to mend my scars. I made an honest effort to get better, but then an opportunity appeared to do what I do best in the interests of my country, and so I indulged. I returned to Ganer when I spilled too much blood, then left again, then came back and finally stayed for almost three years. I’ve read countless books. I’ve undergone many therapies and meditations. Yet here we are.” She smiled. “There comes a point where you have to stop trying to repair yourself and accept the fact that you’re broken. George is right. I hate him for it, but he is right. Today was the first time I truly lived in months, if only for a few moments. I’ve decided that I would rather live for a few moments every few weeks than try to deny my nature.”

As long as her nature didn’t interfere with the safety of my guests, we would be just fine.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Dina. Murder doesn’t interest me. I’m addicted to winning fights. I love it, the thrill of it, the rush of testing my skill against my opponent, the sharp finality of it, but I control my sword. My sword doesn’t control me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I told her. “But if you attack a guest in my inn, I will contain you.”

“We understand each other then.”

“Yes, we do.”

“That makes me happy.” She smiled and drank her tea.

My screen chimed. I reached to my left and flicked it. George’s face appeared on the screen. His damp blond hair fell to his shoulders, framing his elegant face. He was wearing some sort of light white robe… The man was ridiculously handsome. That’s all there was to it.

I still wanted to punch him.

Something in Sophie’s cup must’ve been incredibly interesting, because she was studying it with cool detachment.

“What can I do for you, Arbitrator?” I asked.

“George, please. There is no hot water in my bathroom.”

“Oh really?” You don’t say.

“Yes. In fact, it’s ice-cold.” He raised a half-filled glass. Thin slivers of ice floated on its surface. “I drew this from the tap in my sink.”

“How unfortunate. When did this happen?”

“About two minutes ago.”

“While you were in the shower?”

“Yes.”

“My apologies. I’ll get right on that.”

George squinted at me, his face thoughtful, and waved the call off.

Sophie leaned back and laughed. “You really love those trees.”

I restarted the recording. “When I came here, Gertrude Hunt lay dormant. The inn hadn’t been active for years. Without visitors, it slowly starved and fell into a deep, deathlike sleep. I was told it would be so, but I didn’t realize what that actually meant.”

The memories of that day surfaced and took over, bringing with them a sharp, intense dread.

“It was an overcast spring day. The yard was an overgrown tangle of brush that hadn’t been looked after for years, all old leaves and dead grass, and in the middle of this mess sat a ruin of a house with rotting siding and dark windows. I felt no magic. No presence. There are not many dormant inns left, and this was my only chance at becoming an innkeeper. If I couldn’t awaken Gertrude Hunt, I would have to grow a new inn from the seed, and that takes years. I was so terrified the inn was dead that I couldn’t bring myself to go inside the house, so I picked my way around the building to the back, and then I saw the trees. There were twenty of them, and all of them were blooming with these delicate white flowers with a gentle touch of pink. That’s when I realized that the inn was still alive.”

Sophie nodded. “I understand. George understands as well.”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you know what George did before he became an Arbitrator?”

“No.” And I didn’t care.

“He was the head of intelligence for our country. Every spy and counterspy answered to him. Among dozens who have held this position, he was the best. The most cunning and the most ruthless. When we were growing up, he was the kindest, gentlest person I knew. Now he has the blood of hundreds on his hands. I know it came at a great personal cost to him.”

“Then why did he do it?”

“Duty,” Sophie said. “George will do everything in his power to fulfill his obligations, even if he has to sacrifice a piece of his soul for it.”

My screen chimed again. What is it? What? I flicked at it. Arland’s face came into view.

“My lady.”

Oh spare me. “How may I assist you?”

“I do apologize. My knights are warriors. They are creatures of the battlefield. They came here anticipating a fight…”

“Lord Arland, it would help if you spoke plainly.”

“They are bored,” he said. “Completely bored. I was hoping to prevail on you for some form of entertainment.”

“I will make sure to provide you with something by tonight.”

“Thank you.”

I looked at Sophie. She grinned at me.

I dismissed the screen, letting it retract into the ceiling. The emerald would have to wait. I had to purchase enough groceries for a small army, review the kittens at the shelter, and find some sort of entertainment to occupy a detachment of trained killers, or they would never leave me alone. Piece of cake.