Wicked Bronze Ambition

92

Belinda was still inside her wagon. She wasn’t alone. Morley shared the space, unhappily. They were waiting there because Penny wouldn’t let anybody inside while Singe was away. Why they bothered to stay was never clear. Maybe it was a place where they could bicker without being seen.

They had not had a pleasant wait. I saw that right away. They were butting alpha wills again, presumably. Neither volunteered an explanation.

I said, “Singe will have the door open in two shakes. Dean will have something to warm you up.”

Reassurances didn’t help. Some folks you can’t please.

“I’ll ask if he can’t send something out for your guys, too, Belinda.” Not so much being thoughtful as reminding her that others had it less pleasant than she did.

A waste. That sociopath thing again. That inability to empathize.

Morley peeked past the edge of a curtain. “The door is open.”

Sure enough. And there was Penny, hands on hips, unhappy because the cold and damp were creeping in. Because wet dogs and wetter people were crowding her, fouling the hallway.

Morley began to chuckle as we got in line.

“What?” Belinda and I both demanded.

“Garrett, you’re finally living the dream.”

“What does that mean?”

“What you daydreamed about when you were a kid has finally come to pass.”

“I’m still lost.”

He shook his head, chuckled some more. “You wanted your own harem. And now you’ve got one.”

His expansive gesture as we stamped the water off us on the stoop included not only Singe, Penny, and Hagekagome, down the hallway greeting the all-girl dog team, but also a set of twins who pretended to be in heat most of the time.

Belinda began to snicker, too. “A harem for Garrett. It’s precious. Jon Salvation could make it into a play.”

Winger and Saucerhead leaned out of my old office, sleepily curious about the sudden racket. They were a dismal-looking pair. One nodded to herself and pulled back, no doubt resuming what she considered a well-deserved nap.

“He’d write a real tragedy if he put those two in it.” I grinned for a moment. I can be a humble, self-effacing kind of guy, but could not long forget that this moment existed only because my wife had been murdered.

Penny scattered rags and threadbare carpets to protect the hallway floor. Even the insensitive Machtkess sisters tried to avoid dripping everywhere. Which left only the dogs. .

Hagekagome used the shreds of an ancient towel with one hand and loved her doggie friends with the rest of her.

She spotted me. Her face lit up. She jumped up and charged, excited as a puppy, smashed into me, pounded my chest a few times with her little fists, then just clung. She didn’t tell me how much she hated me.

We got plenty of stares. I looked back at everybody, silently begging for advice. Tara Chayne gave me a nod, a reminder to be nice and gentle. Nobody else seemed particularly concerned, though Penny treated herself to a mild sulk. So I just hugged with my right arm and patted Hagekagome’s back with my left hand while I tried to figure out what the hell was happening.

Whatever that might be, Brownie and the girls approved.

Mariska revealed a catalogue of expressions, beginning with bewildered and circling back round to much the same thing. She started out focused on one particularly handsome former Royal Marine and finished fixed on the supernaturally beautiful but weird kid clinging to him.

I couldn’t help observing, “Something changed while I was gone.”

“She got it together some,” Penny said. “She still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but at least she’s confused in plain Karentine. So. Can you people move inside far enough for me to shut the door on the weather?”

Cold, damp air nipped the back of my neck.

Singe said, “Everyone into the office, please.” Grimly reluctant. They would track in grime and moisture. Belinda and Morley looked like they wanted to change their minds about visiting but could not come up with a plausible excuse for having wasted the time they had already.

I eased Hagekagome off me, patting her head. Damn, she was beautiful, and it looked like she had matured some in the past few days. She’d be melting guys into slack-jawed puddles with a smile in another week.

She allowed herself to be peeled, went back to Brownie and the girls. Those four seemed thrilled by events. They congratulated their friend.

I checked Penny. She shrugged. I asked, “Any change in there?” with a nod toward the Dead Man’s room. “Or there?” In the direction Tharpe and Winger had vanished.

“No. And no. Dean says not to expect anything there for a long time. The big woman is way out of it, but those two in there with her. . They eat like pigs getting ready for winter.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “I should go help Dean. You should close the door.”

Most of the crowd had moved into Singe’s office. They would presume upon my hospitality, too, also storing fat for hard times.

Dean had as much experience with Old Bones as I did. His estimate would be good. I had no time to check on Himself. There were invaders in my establishment who had no need to know the true situation.

Before leaving to wrangle guests, Singe asked Penny, “Did anyone bring reports this morning?”

“There’s always somebody banging on the door. Dean said don’t let nobody in but you or Garrett. We can’t be sure who our friends really are. So I ignored everybody.”

Morley awarded that a surly growl.

Dean was getting all cynical and paranoid. Probably a good thing now, though it might impede the flow of information.

I asked, “Did you check the peephole?”

“You know what? I did. Every time I heard somebody out there.”

Smart-ass.

“I made a list. I put it on Singe’s desk.”

Singe suggested, “Why don’t you two come into the office, too? We will shoehorn you in. Those watching outside will inform interested parties that we are home and may be available.”