I peered out the window. “Red-tailed hawk. Do you have work gloves in here?”
“Glove box.” He pointed.
“Who keeps gloves in the glove box?” I leaned past Temple, who was still snoring, and opened the glove box. In addition to old leather work gloves, there were two pairs of padded winter gloves, blue mittens that looked hand-knit, and a small box of latex gloves.
I hopped out of the van and pulled on the leather gloves as I approached the hawk. Its raspy squawks grew louder. “Easy, boy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“How do you know it’s a boy?” Ronnie stayed several steps behind, cudgel in hand.
“The males are smaller.” I waved him back. “Put that thing away. The poor guy weighs three pounds, tops, and he’s obviously scared.”
“A Kensington has to be prepared,” he said, but he returned the cudgel to the van.
“I thought that was the Boy Scouts.”
The hawk was tangled in a thin white net. The ends were weighted with large black buttons.
“What happened to it?” asked Ronnie.
“Mice.”
He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was messing with him.
“Second Life Books and Gifts is...special. Temple’s family built the house two centuries ago, and they’ve lived here all that time.” I crouched and slowly reached toward the hawk. “They put all sorts of spells on it. Over time, their magic seeped into the house and the grounds. It grew into a repository for the Finns’ power.”
“Like a battery?”
I chuckled. “Right idea, but more like a nuclear plant. Temple can draw on that power for his spells, and the house responds to him and his needs. Once the house realized Annette and I were Temple’s friends, it started doing the same for us. And over the generations, it seems to have affected the mice, too.”
The hawk snapped at my glove. Inch-long talons clamped onto the leather. I’d have bruises on the flesh beneath. I encircled his body with my other hand. “You’re all right. I just want to see what they did to— Oh, those thieving little punks.”
“What is it?” asked Ronnie.
“My dental floss went missing two weeks ago. The mice used it to make their net.” I recognized the buttons, too. They were from one of Annette’s long winter jackets. She’d be pissed when she found out. “Do you have scissors in that van?”
He returned moments later with a pair of old kitchen scissors. The gloves complicated things, but I began snipping the strands of the net the best I could, being careful to avoid the feathers.
“The mice are hunters,” he said. “Is that your influence?”
“I retired from hunting a long time ago,” I said firmly, ignoring the pang of emptiness and regret that accompanied the words. “The mice started this all on their own about two years back. I think a bird must have gotten one of them, and they’ve been out for revenge ever since. They go after owls and the occasional eagle, too.” I freed the right wing, and the hawk promptly bludgeoned my arm with it. “For a while, they were trying to capture smaller birds, like grackles and doves. I think they were hoping to ride them. We’d find birds with little reins and harnesses made from wool or twine or whatever else the mice could steal.”
“Awesome.” He knelt and held the hawk’s right wing while I worked on the left. “You didn’t look retired when you were tossing me out of my van last night.”
“If that had been a true hunt, I’d have put an arrow through your left eye before you knew I was there.”
He laughed halfheartedly, like he wasn’t sure whether I was joking. “If you were trying to get away from that life, why move in with Annette Thorne and Temple Finn? That’s like a recovering addict renting a room in a crack house.”
“Word of advice. Don’t compare this place to a crack house out loud unless you want to wake up in the middle of the night with sewage backing up in your bedroom.”
He glanced at the house. “No offense intended.”
I got the other wing loose, set the scissors on the grass, and slowly pulled the remnants of the net free. “Originally, I came here to help Temple break a financial curse and work through the aftermath. I called Annette in for backup. Once we untangled all of that, I realized I didn’t want to leave. This felt like home in a way no other place had. It felt safe. We understood one another. Also, Temple’s cooking is to die for.”
The hawk shook off the last strands and launched himself into the air, flying fast and hard like he wanted to get as far away as possible.
Ronnie watched the hawk go. “Why didn’t the mice finish him off?”
“Maybe they wanted him to warn other hawks to stay away.” I gave him his gloves and walked toward the house. Then, just to mess with him, I added, “Or maybe they ran out of gunpowder for their cannons.”
