“The older ones could do that if they choose,” she said, addressing me again. “The younger female needs . . . firmer authority . . . and should not be on her own for long.”
Firmer authority would be me? Were they joking?
Apparently not, since she thanked me and hung up.
Back in the kitchen, breakfast was going on in full swing, with Jenna McKay showing Lara and Kira how to use the small melon scoop to make jam balls for individual servings, while Michael and Ian Stern chatted with Viktor and Karol about Trickster Night. The men’s eyes strayed toward Kira, who really was gorgeous, but they kept their distance from the girls, which indicated they had a healthy survival instinct.
Someone had scrambled some eggs for general consumption. Someone had located the leftover pizza and warmed up a couple of pieces in the wave-cooker before slicing them into smaller pieces.
Everyone stopped talking when I entered the kitchen.
“You have permission to stay and visit,” I told the Sanguinati. I waved a hand to indicate Kira, Viktor, and Karol. “You three may join the donkey-cart tour if you would like to do that.”
“But we want—” Lara began.
“To stay and help Miss Victoria,” Kira finished.
She exchanged a glance with Viktor. Something about that look struck me as conspiratorial and gave my anxiety a twitch. Since I couldn’t figure out what two teenage Sanguinati would conspire about that involved me, I put that anxiety down to leftover emotion caused by the snarling vampire on the phone.
“Yes,” Viktor said. “We are here to visit Miss Victoria today.”
Okeydokey.
I was making the third pot of coffee and wondering where I was going to put all the little bowls of jam balls—because everyone had to have a turn at making at least one ball—when more of my guests wandered into the kitchen, looking for food.
The Cornleys, who had been watching the tricksters arrive in their “costumes,” looked at the Sanguinati and had the sudden understanding that not all the costumes had been costumes. And the Sanguinati, probably picking up accelerated breathing and heartbeat and whatever other signals prey gives off before being eaten, suddenly looked like the young predators they were. A stillness in all four of them. A focused look in the dark eyes.
Ian Stern clapped his hands loudly and said, “Is there any toast?”
The tableau broken, Kira turned away from the Cornleys and said, “I can make it. I have seen how the toaster machine works.” She looked at Michael and Ian. “Two pieces?”
They nodded. Suddenly everyone was in motion, except the Cornleys, who were impersonating frozen bunnies. I guess they hadn’t expected to get an up-close-and-personal look at the Others—or have the Others look at them. Which made me wonder if they’d understood the nature of The Jumble or had just seen it as a place where they could go for a rustic getaway.
I sidled over to them and suggested they go into the dining room, which was a quiet spot in the morning, and I would bring them something to eat.
As I put together a tray for my skittish guests, Jenna McKay showed Viktor how to make scrambled eggs. Once they were cooked, she plated some of the eggs for herself, then gave another plate to the youngsters so they could all have a taste. Lara and Karol clearly didn’t like the eggs but knew enough not to spit out the food. Viktor’s and Kira’s expressions were carefully neutral.
Then Bobcat walked into the kitchen and spotted what was left of the Sanguinati’s share of scrambled eggs.
“Use a spoon, please,” I said in time to stop him from using a digity paw to scoop butter curls out of the bowl. After he’d spooned up a couple of jam balls as well, I handed him a fork.
Watching him add butter and jam to each bite of scrambled eggs, Lara found a fork and followed his example, exclaiming happily over the changed taste. If Bobcat had been hungry, he probably would have snarled her away from his plate. I figured he was already full from eating dead donkey and this was his sweet after the meal—and something he was willing to share.
I didn’t have room on the tray for mugs and the coffeepot, but I didn’t have to make a second trip to the dining room because Michael Stern said, “Let me give you a hand with that,” and grabbed the coffeepot and two mugs.
I set out the food for the Cornleys, and Michael poured the coffee.
He stopped me on the way back to the kitchen, and as soon as his hand lightly touched my arm, my brain got ready to panic even though his touch wasn’t the least bit threatening.
“Julian Farrow is a friend of yours?” Michael asked.
Feeling wary, I nodded.
“You know he gets feelings about things?”
“We all get feelings about things.” My response was instinctive, protective, a way to hide what I knew about Julian. I wished I was the one holding the coffeepot, in case I needed to whack my guest.
“My cousin and I get feelings,” Michael said, watching me. “We have that in common with Julian.”
I realized he was wary too. He was offering a secret in a place that wasn’t home.
“Oh. Those feelings.” I hadn’t realized Michael and Ian Stern were Intuits, but to avoid persecution, Intuits usually hid their ability to sense things about their surroundings. “It must have been a strange night for you.”
He let out a soft, surprised laugh. “It was fascinating. And terrifying.”
“And . . . ?” I prodded, since it seemed he had more to say. I decided it was best to cut through cryptic talking since he had the coffeepot and someone was going to come looking for it soon. “What should I tell Julian?”
“Duplicity. We felt it last night, but not this morning.”
He was telling me someone was deceitful, or had been last night, but it wasn’t one of my guests. Which meant it was either someone staying at the Mill Creek Cabins or one of the tricksters who had come to The Jumble last night.
Or it was one of the Others? Something out there had caused Aggie, Jozi, and Eddie to retreat into their feathered form.
“And the girl. Kira. Tell Julian . . . honey trap. Not quite true in the usual sense, but true nonetheless.”
I wondered if Kira was being labeled—and blamed for men’s naughty thoughts—because she was gorgeous, but Michael seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’ll tell him.” I took a step toward the kitchen. He moved with me.
“I like your place. It feels welcoming—in a strange, adventurous sort of way.” He smiled.
“Wasn’t that what you were looking for? A bit of adventure?”
“We were. Are you open year-round?”
“Yes, but just the two suites in the main house and the two upgraded cabins. There are some . . . very rustic . . . cabins available for human guests in the summer.”
“Would those cabins be considered highly adventurous?”
I thought about the residents in some of those cabins. “Oh yes.”
When we returned to the kitchen, Aggie was at the sink, her uniform sleeves rolled up as she explained dish washing to Kira.
“How are you?” I asked her.
Terror still filled her dark eyes. “Eddie saw . . . last night. Crowbones is here.”
“Well, Chief Grimshaw will figure out who played that nasty trick.”
“No, he won’t. Chief Grimshaw is human. He can’t . . .” She turned away from me and ferociously scrubbed an already clean plate.
I turned to my Intuit guests. “If you want to see some of The Jumble today, you can join the donkey-cart tour.” I was told the cart could hold four people. Nobody actually said the donkey could pull the cart if it had four people.