weather in Savannah could be tricky. “So at least you’ll have something for dinner. I suppose you’re both going to stick around. No way I could persuade you to go somewhere else? I can’t be the only person on the planet you’ve been sent to guard.”
She wasn’t, was she? The only person cursed with this awful responsibility.
“Oh, there are others, of course,” said a voice at her elbow.
Bree wasn’t of a nervous disposition, but she jumped. She stopped and turned around. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said. “You two.”
“Beazley,” said the taller one.
“And Caldecott.” He ducked his head in expressionless acknowledgment.
“As if I needed reminding.”
Bree looked at the two attorneys for the Opposition with barely concealed distaste. Beazley was tall, and, at a distance, looked like an out-of-shape accountant, or maybe a seedy banker. Until you saw the vertical slits of his pupils. And if you ignored the furnace yellow of his eyes. Caldecott reminded Bree of her shop teacher in high school—slightly potbellied with thick, horn-rimmed glasses. But her shop teacher’s fingernails weren’t long, pointed talons rimmed with a dark red crusted substance that didn’t bear thinking about. They both smelled like burned matches. And both of them hovered several inches off the pavement. Caldecott, prone to sudden fits of fatigue, had a tendency to sit down in midair.
“So what’s up?” She glanced back at Miles and Belli. They sat on their haunches, looking bored. She swept her gaze around the square. Still empty, although on York, the next street over, traffic moved at a normal pace.
“Our visit . . .” said Beazley.
“A matter of professional courtesy,” said Caldecott.
“And not to be in any way construed as an attempt at undue influence.” Beazley grinned, showing pointed teeth stained a repellent brown.
Bree waited them out.
“This latest case of yours . . .” Beazley shook his head.
“Such as it is . . .” Caldecott muttered.
“There have been threats,” Beazley concluded with the air of someone disposing of an unpleasant obligation. “Significant threats.”
“And you two—with my best welfare at heart, I’m sure—are taking this opportunity to save me from myself? ‘Drop the case and no harm will come to you.’ That sort of thing?”
Caldecott looked offended. “Not at all.”
“We couldn’t guarantee no harm would come to you.”
“We’re in the business of doing harm, so to speak.” Caldecott reflected a moment. Then, in a pleased way: “As much as possible.”
“So why the concern for my welfare?”
“Oh, we’re not at all concerned for your welfare,” Beazley assured her. “Your immortal soul—now, that’s a different matter altogether. We would very much like to get our hands on that . No, no, this is procedural. We caught wind of an intent . . .”
“A stirring,” Caldecott mused.
“Regarding a party none of us have heard from for some time.”
“Millennia,” Caldecott said.
“Not that long, surely,” Beazley said. “But it’s old, very old. At any rate.” His head rotated on his shoulders and he looked at the two dogs. “You’d be advised to keep those two near . . .”
“And your guard up . . .” Caldecott whispered.
“And stay out of the Pendergasts’ way.”
“He’s made a bad bargain . . .”
“A terrible bargain . . .”
Beazley bent close. His breath smelled like a cesspool. “Even for a soul already condemned without hope of redemption of any kind . . .”
They were gone.
The wind picked up and a frigid blast of air nearly knocked her off her feet. Belli pressed close to her side. She buried her hand in the dog’s thick ruff and walked on home. “Intimidation,” she said several minutes later, when she let herself in through the kitchen door. “Phooey.” Then: “The Pendergasts again! Double phooey.”
But she threw the dead bolt, just the same, and sat down on the couch to think.
Antonia snapped
She wasn’t, was she? The only person cursed with this awful responsibility.
“Oh, there are others, of course,” said a voice at her elbow.
Bree wasn’t of a nervous disposition, but she jumped. She stopped and turned around. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said. “You two.”
“Beazley,” said the taller one.
“And Caldecott.” He ducked his head in expressionless acknowledgment.
“As if I needed reminding.”
Bree looked at the two attorneys for the Opposition with barely concealed distaste. Beazley was tall, and, at a distance, looked like an out-of-shape accountant, or maybe a seedy banker. Until you saw the vertical slits of his pupils. And if you ignored the furnace yellow of his eyes. Caldecott reminded Bree of her shop teacher in high school—slightly potbellied with thick, horn-rimmed glasses. But her shop teacher’s fingernails weren’t long, pointed talons rimmed with a dark red crusted substance that didn’t bear thinking about. They both smelled like burned matches. And both of them hovered several inches off the pavement. Caldecott, prone to sudden fits of fatigue, had a tendency to sit down in midair.
“So what’s up?” She glanced back at Miles and Belli. They sat on their haunches, looking bored. She swept her gaze around the square. Still empty, although on York, the next street over, traffic moved at a normal pace.
“Our visit . . .” said Beazley.
“A matter of professional courtesy,” said Caldecott.
“And not to be in any way construed as an attempt at undue influence.” Beazley grinned, showing pointed teeth stained a repellent brown.
Bree waited them out.
“This latest case of yours . . .” Beazley shook his head.
“Such as it is . . .” Caldecott muttered.
“There have been threats,” Beazley concluded with the air of someone disposing of an unpleasant obligation. “Significant threats.”
“And you two—with my best welfare at heart, I’m sure—are taking this opportunity to save me from myself? ‘Drop the case and no harm will come to you.’ That sort of thing?”
Caldecott looked offended. “Not at all.”
“We couldn’t guarantee no harm would come to you.”
“We’re in the business of doing harm, so to speak.” Caldecott reflected a moment. Then, in a pleased way: “As much as possible.”
“So why the concern for my welfare?”
“Oh, we’re not at all concerned for your welfare,” Beazley assured her. “Your immortal soul—now, that’s a different matter altogether. We would very much like to get our hands on that . No, no, this is procedural. We caught wind of an intent . . .”
“A stirring,” Caldecott mused.
“Regarding a party none of us have heard from for some time.”
“Millennia,” Caldecott said.
“Not that long, surely,” Beazley said. “But it’s old, very old. At any rate.” His head rotated on his shoulders and he looked at the two dogs. “You’d be advised to keep those two near . . .”
“And your guard up . . .” Caldecott whispered.
“And stay out of the Pendergasts’ way.”
“He’s made a bad bargain . . .”
“A terrible bargain . . .”
Beazley bent close. His breath smelled like a cesspool. “Even for a soul already condemned without hope of redemption of any kind . . .”
They were gone.
The wind picked up and a frigid blast of air nearly knocked her off her feet. Belli pressed close to her side. She buried her hand in the dog’s thick ruff and walked on home. “Intimidation,” she said several minutes later, when she let herself in through the kitchen door. “Phooey.” Then: “The Pendergasts again! Double phooey.”
But she threw the dead bolt, just the same, and sat down on the couch to think.
Antonia snapped
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