“I guess, yeah, technically,” Bob said sourly.
I pursed my lips, thinking. I could have Mouse check them over and get his take on them, too. He was downstairs in the great hall. With Maggie. And the potpie. But my instincts told me how he would react. Given the way the past few years had gone, I almost didn’t want to listen to my own.
But in my chest, the tiny star kept burning.
Hell.
Maybe sometimes, good things happen, too.
Even to me.
“Okay,” I said. “For the time being, Basil, you all should consider yourselves my guests, I suppose. We’ll talk about what you have in mind.”
“Excellent,” said the gargoyle. Something, a tension, seemed to ease out of him. There was a faint, sad relief in his tone. “It has been longer than I would like since we have served in a home.”
Something told me that the gargoyle’s emotions on the subject were considerably less understated than Basil’s words.
“We all kind of washed up together here,” I told him seriously. “Still making a home of it, I think. And I’m a sucker for strays.”
“We did not stray,” Basil corrected with quiet conviction. “We deliberately sought you out.”
I felt myself smiling lopsidedly. “Right,” I said. “You’re going to fit in fine.”
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The first protesters showed up at the castle on Tuesday morning.
Will, who had been lifting with me and Fitz that morning, folded his thick forearms on a merlon on the castle’s roof and looked across the street, bemused. Half a dozen folks were standing across the street on the sidewalk holding signs. Three of them simply readChicago for the People!The other signs saidBack to Normal,End the Madness, andNo Occult Weirdness!
“You see this?” Will asked me as I came up.
“Yeah,” I said. “Kind of expected something like it, after last summer. Things are getting better. People have more time to think about something other than staying warm and fed. Thought they’d wait until further into the spring, though.”
“You kind of have to admire their ethic,” Will noted, staring across the street. “It’s like twenty-five degrees and windy.” Will had been lifting a hell of a lot of weight. Steam rose off his skin. It would be a bit before he cooled off enough to worry. “Not everyone who protests is up for that.”
“I suppose,” I said. “However, as the resident occult weirdo in chief, I don’t like the idea of being prohibited. So we have some disagreement.”
“It’s just signs,” Will said.
“Sure,” I said.
Fitz frowned down at the protesters. The kid was still skinny enoughthat the cold had made him start shivering almost immediately when we came out to observe. “Should we do something?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Call the cops? Have them go away?”
“Not sure the cops would respond,” I mused. “I mean, they’re just standing there holding signs. Public sidewalk. They can do that. They’re not even on the property.”
The stones of the castle rippled like water, and Basil the gargoyle rose through them like a diver being pulled up from the drink. He squinted up at the bright morning sun, wincing a bit, and kept back from the battlements so he wouldn’t be easily seen.
“My lord,” Basil said seriously. “Shall we shepherd them away?”
“They’re permitted by law to do that,” I said, waving a hand vaguely at the protesters. “They’re not doing anything violent, destroying property or setting things on fire. If they aren’t offering direct harm to someone here, we’re going to play it just as cool.”
“They are not in their own homes, either,” Basil said coolly, “but outside of yours, demonstrating their displeasure.”
