Still looking down at her from my shelf, I shook my head. “You would need to put up a great deal of money to check me out, Chandra. I’m sure you don’t have that much.”
“I’ll talk to them, Mr. Smithe. Come with me.”
“If you want to talk to me, you can do it right here. That way you won’t need any money.”
This time Chandra shook her head, making her brown braids bounce. “I’d have to come back for you, probably with a librarian or you wouldn’t come.”
“That’s right.” I can be as dumb as anybody, but as soon as I said that it soaked through to me that if I jumped off my shelf and went to the desk with this kid it might count as being consulted. Sure, consulted was not nearly as good as being checked out, but it was a lot better than nothing. When the Polly’s Cove Library returned us to Spice Grove, it would report how many checkouts we’d had, and how many consultations. You did not throw away a consultation. Millie Baumgartner might do that, but not Ern A. Smithe.
So off we went to the desk—that’s me and a pretty, brown-haired girl who came up almost to my chin. Charlotte Lang was on the desk. She smiled at both of us and said hello to Chandra.
“I have to check him out,” Chandra explained. “Mother wants to talk to him, so I promised I’d check him out for her.”
Charlotte said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to speak with her.”
Chandra nodded and started giving her mother’s address, but Charlotte said she didn’t need it, and turned to her screen. I would like to have seen the picture when she got her party, but of course I couldn’t. The screen was angled so somebody on the wrong side of the desk couldn’t see it. They always are.
Charlotte said, “Your daughter says you want to check out our new copy of Ern A. Smithe, Mrs. Fevre. Checking out a reclone resource requires a large deposit, returned when you return the reclone on time. I’m sure you know.”
I couldn’t hear the reply.
“When you return it on time and undamaged. In good condition. Otherwise…”
—
“We still have that older copy, you understand. We’re selling it now, and it’s very inexpensive.”
—
“Fine. I’ll send him along with Chandra. They should be with you soon.”
Charlotte Lang touched the sign-off and turned back to us. “Your mother says you’re to come straight home. No side trips and no dawdling.” To me, “I doubt that you know where the house is, Smithe. Do you?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“Turn left as you go out. Signal Hill Road will be the third street, I believe. Left again on that. It’s a three-story white neo-Goth house all the way up the hill, with a widow’s walk. You can’t miss it.”
Chandra said, “Besides, you’ll have me with you.”
Charlotte nodded. “I certainly hope so.”
There was an old man sitting in the little reception room next to a heap of discards. He was staring at the floor and did not look up as we passed. At the time, I failed to connect him with anything Charlotte had said.
When we had turned onto Signal Hill Road, Charlotte wanted to know if I had money.
“A little,” I told her. “Not very much.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
We walked on in silence for half a block before she asked, “Would you like to get some more?”
“Not if the library is to know I have it.”
Chandra nodded again. “It’s the same way with me sometimes. Will you buy me a steaming creamy?” She pointed. “That’s a candy store up ahead.”
“I take it they sell steaming creamys.” I had no idea what a steaming creamy was.
She nodded solemnly.
“If I buy you one, will your mother approve?”
“That’s the other thing. You mustn’t tell her.”
“Then I won’t.”
“You’ll buy it for me? Please? Just a small one.”
“All right, just a small one. What flavor?”
“Cantaloupe custard.” Chandra took my hand. “That’s my fave.”
“Got it.” I paused, considering. “If I buy you the steaming creamy, will you tell me what your mother wants with me?”
Chandra looked troubled. “I don’t know a lot—not for sure.”
“What you think, in that case.”
She thought that over for three or four steps before saying, “All right. What I think.”
Seeing Chandra, the woman behind the counter in the candy store said, “One cantaloupe custard, coming up!”
I nodded and added, “A small one. Chocolate for me, a small one.”
Chandra looked slightly alarmed. “Don’t get it on your shirt.”
I said, “This shirt has bloodstains on it already. What’s a little chocolate compared to that?”
“Mother will know.”
“I’ll tell her I was going to buy you a steaming creamy too, but you said you weren’t permitted to accept it.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Yes. Really.”
Chandra accepted her cup. “You know, I like you.”
I accepted my chocolate one. “Then you’ll tell me what you think, just as you promised.”
She nodded and started for the door.
I paid and sipped before following her.
“You won’t tell anybody what I told you?”
“No, since you don’t want me to.”
“All right. Mother thinks somebody’s trying to kill her. Mostly it’s with magic, but sometimes it’s with other things, too. There’s a black thing—”
“Wait up. Why would anyone want to kill her?”
“I think it’s something about the accident.” Chandra seemed plainly troubled. “Mother was in an accident when I was real young. Some kind of accident or something on a boat. It’s why she hardly ever gets out of bed.”
That sounded like paranoia and set me wondering.
“There’s things hiding in the house, too. That’s why she keeps the lights on all night.”
“I see.”
“I’ve got a room of my own, but I’ve got to sleep with Mother, so there’s somebody else there.”
“And the lights must make it hard to sleep.”
“Not really. You just shut your eyes and keep them shut. Sometimes the electricity goes off, but we have lanterns, too. I get up and light two for us.”
“Do you think there are really things hiding in your house?”
Chandra nodded solemnly.
“What makes you think that?”
“One comes into the bedroom sometimes, late at night. It creeps in, flat on the floor.” She paused. “Sometimes it cries. It says, ‘No bite.’”
“Really?” I had almost forgotten my chocolate steaming creamy; now I gave it a well-deserved sip, wondering whether there was a word of truth in anything Chandra had said. Was this nice kid stringing me? Or stringing herself?
“You’ve seen it?” I was trying to sound skeptical; it didn’t take a lot of effort.
“Kind of. It’s big and black and makes scratchy noises and lies really flat against the floor. That makes it hard to see when it’s dark in there.”