When the green emptied out and the majority of the village moved the party to the Rose & Wimple, I packed up the stall. Quoth had flown off just as the sun had started to set, croaking that he’d see me back at the shop, and I was excited to talk to him again and try to rebuild some of our trust. I managed to fit my remaining books into one box and Oscar’s cart, but even so, books are heavy, and we returned to Nevermore at a slow shuffle.
As I passed by Dracula’s house, an involuntary shudder rocked my body. The place had such avibeof oppressive danger that I didn’t know how Dorothy Ingram hadn’t broken down the door and performed an exorcism on the Count already.
“I’m back,” I called out as we entered the shop. “How’s our patient?”
“Huh?” Socrates leaned around the Aviation shelves, turning his ear toward me.
“HOW’S FIONA?”
Socrates peered at me with concern. “Why in Zeus’ testicles would you want to go to Macedonia? Nasty, grubby place.”
“I don’t want to go to Macedonia! I want to know about—” I waved my hand as something crashed overhead. “Never mind.”
I hung up Oscar’s harness and climbed the stairs. I flinched at another loud crash, followed by an ear-piercing wail.
Puck met me at the top of the stairs. “Are you certain you do not wish her transformed into an ass?”
“Not now, thank you.” I shoved open the door to our private chambers, slamming it shut in Puck’s face before he could suggest a drastic spell I might actually consider.
Inside our flat, the noise was deafening. Fiona’s cries shook the walls. Oscar whimpered, collapsing on the rug and covering his ears with his paws. Grimalkin sat bolt-upright in front of the fire, and as I dropped my coat, she transformed into her human form for the specific purpose of glowering at me.
“How am I supposed to get the twenty-seven hours of daily sleep recommended for a healthy feline with that racket?” She glanced casually down at her nails, which had been perfectly manicured to a sharp tip. “If this continues, I shall have no choice but to scratch her eyes out, give her something to really cry about.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I warned. “We just need to figure out how to undo what Dracula’s done to her, and then we can set her free. Why don’t you do something useful and prowl on over to Jenna Mclarey’s old place, see if you can figure out why she might’ve had a stash of Romanian dirt?”
“And be subjected to the slimeball of a husband? No thank you.” Grimalkin licked her fingers, then rubbed her ear. “I met him at the pub on one of my nightly prowls, so distracted by chatting up a beautiful young woman he didn’t notice me licking the foam off his beer. But if she so much as talks to another man, he flies into a rage like a jealous tomcat.”
“Thank you for that tidbit of useless information. Now, go.” I pointed toward the door. Grimalkin pouted, but she did transform back into a cat and stalked out the door with her tail cocked high.
I poked my head into the bedroom, catching a wall of garlic fumes in the face. Heathcliff sat in the chair beside the bed, nose in a book while Fiona writhed and thrashed against her restraints. I covered my ears against her wails. “How can you stand the noise?”
Heathcliff snapped the book shut. “Years of blocking out the incessant chattering of customers.”
“She wasn’t loud this morning.”
“We think she might have build up a tolerance to the garlic over time. We tried to get more, but your mother has bought all the fresh garlic from the market. I sent Morrie to Barchester to see if he can find some at the Sainsbury’s.”
He stood up, holding his arms open. I collapsed into them, resting my head on the lapel of his thick coat, breathing in the spicy musk tinged with peat and the fresh moss of the moors that defined Heathcliff Earnshaw. “What are we going to do?”
“Close the shop for a few days. If anyone asks, say we’ve had an infestation of banshees.” Heathcliff winced as Fiona let out a particularly high-pitched screech.
“We can’t afford to lose that much business. Besides, the Spirit Seekers will be here two nights from now.”
“You could just…tell them not to come?” Heathcliff sounded hopeful.
“Have you told Mrs. Ellis not to do something? How about my mother?” I burrowed my face deeper into his jacket, wishing I could crawl inside him and hide forever. “Where’s Quoth? He said he’d meet me here.”
Heathcliff grunted.
That was all the answer I needed. I pulled back reluctantly, spun on my heel, and stalked into the living room.
“Mina, what are you doing?”
I grabbed my coat and signaled for Oscar. “I’m going to see Quoth.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t. Someone has to stay behind to watch Fiona.”
