Part 6 (2/2)
The car jerked forward four feet. My forehead hit the padded dash.
”Sorry. This car is a little different from my foster mom's. I have it now.”
We shot out of the garage, trailing tinsel and garlands, some of it flying off the car as we careened around the corner on what felt like only two wheels. I clutched the dashboard with both hands, mute with horror.
”Gotta have tunes while I'm driving,” Pixie said, fiddling with the radio. I screamed and pointed. She jerked the car back into our lane, narrowly missing plowing headlong into a semitrailer. ”It's not what I normally listen to, but it'll have to do.”
Rap exploded from the radio.
I closed my eyes and prayed to every deity I could think of to just get us to the house without anyone being maimed or killed.
6.
”Well, that doesn't look good.”
As I got out of the car, a large shadow arose from a settee on the verandah and stood at the top of the steps. It was Adam, and he was holding a shotgun.
”Wow. He's really p.i.s.sed-looking.” Pixie eyed Adam for a moment before waving me ahead. ”You go first.”
”It is not proper that Karma be exposed to such danger. I will go first,”
Sergei said, floating to the front of our little group.
”He's not going to shoot me,” I a.s.sured my sweet domovoi. ”He's just trying to make a statement.”
”Yeah. A statement like a herkin' big hole blown through your head,”
Pixie added in a suspiciously cheerful voice.
”You are a morbid little girl,” Sergei told her.
”At least I'm alive, and I'm not a slave,” she snapped back.
”I am a domovoi! I am not a slave-”
”Knock it off, you two,” I interrupted, squaring my shoulders and starting up the flagged pathway. ”This is difficult enough without you going at it. If you all could be quiet and let me deal with the situation, I'd appreciate it.
h.e.l.lo, Adam.”
”I told you that you were not welcome on my property,” Adam called down from the verandah. ”I meant it, Karma. You will step foot in my house over my dead body.”
I ignored the fact that he made an impressively threatening figure-with or without the gun-and slowly climbed the stairs until I was directly in front of him. Pixie trailed behind me. Sergei was beside her, materializing only enough to be vaguely visible. ”That's going to be a little difficult given that you're a polter, isn't it?”
Even in the failing light, I could read the irritation that flashed through his eyes. ”My heritage has nothing to do with the situation.”
”No? I have always believed that orthodox polters were bound to their domiciles, guardians of their homes, unable and unwilling to leave them so long as they stood. That sounds to me like very good motivation for not wanting to face the reality of the loss of your property.”
His face tightened. ”You've been busy. Looked me up, did you?”
I smiled. ”I work for the Akas.h.i.+c League. Their records are extremely extensive when it comes to Otherworld citizens, so it wasn't difficult to find a background on you. You're an orthodox polter, born 1902-which means you've had long enough to drop the extra arms, and you work in the mundane world as a U.S. marshal. Your family has guarded this house since it was built, although it wasn't until the 1990s that you bought it outright and took over owners.h.i.+p from the mortal family who inhabited it. I believe those are all the pertinent facts.”
”Not quite all,” he said, s.h.i.+fting the shotgun to his left hand. I fought the urge to back up a step or two at the hard look on his face. ”You missed one: I, too, work for the Akas.h.i.+c League.”
That took me aback for a moment. ”You do? In what capacity?”
”I am a member of the watch,” he said with a smile that was far from rea.s.suring.
”He's a watch?” Pixie asked in a puzzled whisper. ”How can you be a member of a watch?”
I didn't have time to do more than wonder why she wasn't aware of the Otherworld police system. Evidently Sergei filled her in, because it wasn't a few seconds later that she said, ”Oh, great, he's a cop. They were always arresting my foster dad. Although he had it coming a couple of times.”
” 'Mad, bad, and dangerous to know,' ” I quoted softly.
Adam all but smirked. ”I'm not Lord Byron, but it fits well enough. And you aren't the only one who used the League's archives to look things up. I know all about the wergeld.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, considering his unspoken threat.
”You know? Who did Karma kill? She won't tell me anything!” Pixie complained.
I prayed for patience. ”Many people know about my history. It's not relevant right now, however. My husband, who is due here at any minute, is relevant. He will have little respect for the fact that you're a marshal, and none for the fact that you're a member of the Otherworld's elite police force. You're going to have to face that legally he owns your house, Adam. He's mortal.
You're not. By the laws that govern the League, you can't do anything to seriously harm him.”
”Except in self-defense,” he corrected, taking up an aggressive stance. ”I have no doubt he will attempt to attack me, at which point I will legally be able to defend myself and my home.”
”You don't know Spider,” I said, shaking my head. ”He's-”
”Oooh, guests! Adam, you didn't tell me we were to have guests! And me without mint juleps or fresh gingerbread. A domovoi! And merciful Scot, another polter!”
Pixie, who had been loudly chewing gum, stopped to eye the young man with long blond curls, clad in what seemed to be late-Victorian garb, as he appeared in front of her. He wore a highly anachronistic bright yellow ap.r.o.n bearing the words IS THAT A SAUSAGE ON MY GRILL, OR AM I JUST HAPPY TO SEE YOU? ”Not more bigots!”
The spirit squealed. ”Not in the least, my dear girl! We positively love polters here! Adam, why didn't you tell me we were going to have guests?”
”Get back in the house!” For a moment, Adam looked disconcerted as he attempted to shoo the spirit back through the front door. ”I told you it wasn't safe out here!”
”Don't be ridiculous; these lovely ladies wouldn't dream of harming anyone! Julie! You simply have to come out here! We have guests!”
”No,” Adam said, throwing himself across the front door. ”No one else- ”.
”This had better be important, because my egg whites aren't even close to stiff yet, and you know what a disaster limp whites can be. ... Sweet St. Peter and all the saints! Lady visitors!” The spirit of a second young man swept right through Adam, stopping next to his friend. He was likewise dressed in Victorian clothing, although his waistcoat was a s.h.i.+mmering turquoise, while the first spirit's was a gorgeous patterned silver and green. ”Welcome to our home. It's been forever and a day since anyone has paid us a call. We must warn Amanita.”
”Oh yes, absolutely,” the first spirit agreed.
Adam banged his forehead on the door frame a few times. ”Why don't you listen to me? Why does no one listen to me?”
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