“If you want to reschedule this handoff,” she said, “I could keep the powers a little longer.”
“No, that screws things up. There are rules in place for a reason, and one year is the rule for the powers. I knew it was coming up.”
We were quiet for a few more bites. “So Bertie’s calling a meeting tonight,” I said.
“About the festivals she’s planning to throw?”
“You coming?”
“No. Very no. What’s the most no?” she asked. “That much no. Doubled.”
I laughed. “It’s not that bad. She’ll listen to suggestions.”
“She’ll conscript volunteers.”
“I’m on the hook no matter what. Don’t you want to pitch in a little time for the good of the community?”
“Gee, what would that be like? Good of the community? Would that be like digging tourists’ vehicles out of sand banks and sand dunes and the ocean and the lake and the river and off the side of the cliffs and…”
I laughed again. “Point taken. But if you ever get tired of dragging people out of ditches, I’m sure Bertie would have a delightful concession stand or sweaty, costumed mascot position for you.”
“Nope. I’ll leave the festivals and events to the Valkyrie. I’m happy in the ditches.”
The dragon pig oinked, tired of being ignored, so I fed it a couple more forks while we finished our meal.
I picked up the tab, Frigg said she’d catch the next one, then she headed to the door. Before she opened it, she turned, hand on the bar.
“Oh, and Delaney?”
“Yes?” I left money on the table, scooped up the dragon pig, and headed for the coat rack.
“Take some time off. You, of all people, have earned it.” She pulled the hood of her coat over her head and sauntered out into the rain, slow and easy as a summer day.
Chapter Three
Ryder texted two more times: rentable teepee, and bungee jumping.
I laughed at that last one because jumping off cliffs wasn’t my idea of relaxation.
I sent him a smiley face, then pulled up to Than’s house. The shades were drawn. I didn’t see any light peaking around the edges.
“What do you think?” I asked the dragon pig, lying in the passenger seat.
The windshield wipers were going full tilt. Even though the car was idling, it wasn’t enough to keep the rain from blurring up the world.
“Doesn’t look like he’s home.”
Dragon pig had curled up in the seat, happy and full of forks. It ignored me, both eyes closed, a tiny little snore rumbling in its chest.
“Let’s give him a call.” I thumbed through my contacts and dialed.
“Reed Daughter.” Than’s voice was smooth and cool, like I’d just interrupted important reading.
“Hey,” I said. “I need to discuss something with you. Are you home?”
“Why would I be there?”
I glanced at the dash. Three o’clock.
“I just thought business might not be booming at your kite shop.”
The wind punched the Jeep in the side, rocking it. Sheets of rain slashed sideways through the air.
“Oh?”
“It’s a little weather-y for kites today.”
There was a pause. Then, “I am aware. Is this what you wish to discuss? The weather?”
“No. I was…. You know what? Never mind. You’re at your shop? Can I meet you there?”
“I am open until four p.m.” He hung up.
Still hadn’t quite nailed the social norms of the phone call. I tipped my phone down. “Okay, then. I’ll see you there. Coffee would be great.” I put the Jeep in gear and backed out of the dead end next to his house. “Cookies too? You’re too thoughtful.”
The dragon pig snorted. It sounded like a tiny grumbly laugh.
“You’re staying in the car, bucko.”
All I got for that was louder, more dragon-y snorts.
The drive wasn’t far, but the weather was getting worse. Tough shore pines swayed in the gale. Softer firs and hemlock boughs whipped and bent. Rain rattled and hushed with the surging wind, turning the Jeep into an amateur drum-line jam session.
Than’s kite shop, the tailwind, was a little A-frame building lit by a nearby shepherd’s crook streetlamp. There were no cars in the parking lot, but the shop windows were filled with brightly colored kites. The light inside the shop poured through all that ripstop nylon, turning the windows into stained glass.
I parked as close to the door as was legal and shut off the engine.
“You going to be okay out here?”
The dragon pig opened one eye, and it flashed a deep, burning red.
“Oh, that’s right. You’re actually a big ol’ bad dragon. But look at these soft piggy ears and this squishy pink nose and those sweet piggy eyes.”
The dragon pig growled, a very dragon sound.
I chuckled and scratched behind its adorable soft ears. “Okay. If you want to go home, you can pop on outta here. But no eating the car.” I put my fingers on the handle. “Or the house. Or anything in the house.” Before I opened the door, I added, “You know the rules. Stick by them, and I’ll let you slurp down a roll of old chain-link fencing later. Deal?”
The dragon pig flipped on its back, showing its little round belly. Its tiny feet pointing straight up, flopped ears, round nose, and piggy eyes were all very convincing.
I patted its belly. “Good dragon. See you soon.”
I shoved out into the rain and wind and storm.
The Open sign on the door was hand-lettered in gold and, really, quite lovely. Death had good penmanship.
A jaunty bell jingled as I stepped into the shop. The warmth of the place and the soft gold light folded me away from the storm outside. I leaned back against the door, suddenly safe in this little colorful nest inside the roaring storm. Even the clawing of rain on the windows sounded cozy. Like someone should be pouring chocolate and wearing thick socks.
Music played a deep jazzy bass, the tune soft and swanky. Nina Simone was singing about a new dawn and new day. Feeling good.
Death liked blues.
“Than?” I called out, not seeing him in the open space. Well, open was relative. The walls and ceiling were crowded tip-to-tail with kites of every color and whimsy.
Deltas, diamonds, cellular, rokkakus, stunt kites in every color and style. Lofted against the ceiling was a fantasyland of creatures and things: giant squid, koi, a tractor, frogs, a line of cutesy dragons.
Just when I made out one animal (a sheep) another leered behind it (a wolf). The placement was clever but startling, always a predator just around the corner, always some kind of death or danger with each combination.
The longer I looked, the creepier it felt to have all those eyes and teeth shining down on me.
The horror was subtle, but shocking. As if the entire sky above me was alive with chase and capture and flight, with wing and claw and joy…
…that got eaten.
I had no idea how he had repeat customers. Because it sure wasn’t that huge sign out front that looked like a clown had carved it with a dull meat clever that brought ‘em in.
“Would you care for tea, Reed Daughter?”