“I don’t think I’m following, Millie. What about your grandchildren? Congratulations on having them, I guess? I don’t particularly like kids, so I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Do you mean your grandchildren aren’t old enough to know whose property they’re on? Because that sounds like they’re too young to be left unattended, in that case.”
Ladybug rose from her chair at Holt’s sharply spoken words. They were down to the wire now, the end of the week here at last, the culmination of all her work. Jack was right — a distraction was the very last thing she needed just then. She could hear the voice of Millie Tonguegrass, one of the most voracious gossips at the community center, at City Hall, and around the streets of Oldetowne. The reprieve the gossip column had provided had lasted a few weeks, but apparently the goodwill had reached its expiration.
“So theyareold enough to understand that this is not their yard. So I presume they are old enough to understand the concept of trespassing. Do you, Millie? Do you understand what trespassing means? Because I’m not sure why you’re so worried about the safety ofyourgrandchildren inouryard. I assure you, we have no interest in inviting them. It seems to me that rather than concern yourself with the goings-on of this house, you ought to have a conversation with your daughter about her kids. Have a nice fucking day.”
She got to the front door just in time to see Holt stalking up the driveway, leaving Millie gaping on the sidewalk. Ladybug hurried around the foyer, into the parlour, following his dark hair as it moved past the windows. He was going around to the garden, she realized, spinning on her heel to meet him in the kitchen.
Holt’s expression as he came through the garden door would have been mollifying at any other time.
“When have you been sleeping?!” He gestured to the stacks of boxes, each case filled with product in the new containers, labeled and wiped clean. “You do understand this is a little six foot table, right? One day a week? Not an entire storefront of shelves and tables you need to stock?”
“I am very uninterested in your opinion right now,” Ladybug huffed, gesturing beyond him. “What was that?! Out on the lawn? Millie Tonguegrass?”
He made a motion with his hand, batting away her question like it was a gnat. “A self-important old biddy with no concept of boundaries and whether or not the neighbors are at all interested in her bad opinions. I’ve already forgotten about it.”
He helped himself to one of the small clementine oranges in the bowl on the table. They were Anzan’s favorite, she had discovered, keeping them in ready supply in the house the moments they’d come into season. She was a bit sad that their time in bloom was coming to an end, deciding she would do her best to freeze several bags worth for him, in addition to the planned possets.
“Our yard,” she pointed out. “Curious wording you used out there. ‘Our yard,’ you called it.”
“What would you have liked me to call it?” he sniffed. “I specifiedyard. I don’t recall ever seeingyousleeping in the garden.”
At that, Ladybug laughed. “Holt, you really are the worst familiar. But, um, I know we’ve not had this conversation formally, but I-I don’t want you. I mean, I don’t want a familiar. I-I mean, that is . . . I don’t mean to cause offense,” she stammered, cheeks on fire.Why did you say anything at all?“I truly am grateful for the help you’re giving me right now, even if, as you said yourself, it’s the very least you can do for being a back-stabbing betrayer of the most heinous kind. I respect the relationship you had with my aunt, but —“
“Elizabeth.”
His voice was flat, cutting her off, and she sucked in a great, whooshing breath, the first she’d taken since she began voicing the ill-formed thought. Holt rolled his eyes. It was a long moment before he spoke, and she felt as if he had her dangling from tenterhooks with every second that ticked by in silence.
“I am currently a free agent,” he sniffed at last, casting her with a distasteful look.
Great. Now you’ve gone and hurt his feelings.“I only meant . . . if you meet someone and you have a connection with them —“
“Did you know Bethany decided to leave the craft?” he interrupted sharply. At her nod, he shrugged lightly. “I’ve not been reassigned. I’m rather enjoying the time off, to be quite honest. Running my business, attempting to have a relationship, meeting witches hither and yon. I don’t have time to teach you how to use the internet and entertain the upstairs out-of-towner. Although, it doesn’t seem as if your spidery friend makes himself much of a presence, does he? Regardless of whether youthinkyou want a familiar or not, had the Fates dealt us a different hand, I would have been in your life in a much different capacity, little Ladybug. And just because you don’t think you want a familiar at the present moment does not mean that might soon change. Am I ever going to be allowed to meet him officially?”
“I won’t be changing my mind,” she said, hoping he heard the note of finality in her voice. “And Anzan should be coming down for his coffee any minute now.”
Ladybug raised her eyes to the side wall, as if making eye contact with the coffee machine would serve to magically summon Anzan into the kitchen. The coffee machine that was not on the counter, her eyes locking on the empty space where it should be. Like a puzzle slotting together in her mind, she considered how many days had passed since she was able to work without seeing Anzan at all, all the while convincing itself it was her imagination. She gasped. Holt raised his eyebrows as she flung down the pen she’d still gripped, spinning on her heel and practically stomping to the side staircase that led up to the attic.
Anzan’s eyes were terrifyingly keen, the smaller orbs on the side of his head serving to extend his peripheral vision a full 180°, but his hearing was only slightly better than that of the average human. He would feel the vibration in his webs, he explained to her once, but that was only if he happened to be near them at the time and not engrossed in his work, as he was the moment she came bursting into his attic office, breathing hard, her fists balled at her sides.
The offending coffee machine was there, on the counter of his small kitchenette. Ladybug had no idea exactly when he’d relocated it, she realized. It could have been at any point in the previous two weeks. She didn’t know why she had ever suggested him removing it from her work kitchen, cursing her clumsy tongue for ever giving him the idea. It was not merely her sensitivity or an over-active imagination that had made it seem like Anzan was pulling back from her. It was exactly what he had been doing, and she’d been too preoccupied to stop him.
At her entrance, Anzan turned sharply away from his collection of screens. The possession of four hands and multiple eyes meant he was able to engage in double the work, something she found dizzying to contemplate, and even as he looked sharply over his shoulder as she burst through the door, two of his hands never stopped typing.
“Little bug?” The realization that something might be seriously wrong seemed to occur to him a beat later, concern entering his voice. “What is it? Are you alright? Has something happened?”
“No, I amnotalright.“ Ladybug shook her head, pointing accusingly at the coffee machine. “What is that? Why is that up here? I thought I told you that youweren’tin the way!”
He had the grace to look contrite. “Little bug, I did not mean to —“
“No, you did exactly as youmeantto do. I’m not a child, you know. I might not always understand other people very well, but I know my own mind. I know my own mind, and I know you’ve been pulling back from me, even though I asked you not to do so. So that must mean youwantto do so. Is that it?”
She was sick to death of crying. She had cried more in the past few weeks than she had in the previous several months. She was feeling entirely overwhelmed — a constant ebb and flow of anxiety and excitement and guilt and terror, andfuryover the way those two busybodies at City Hall had talked about them so openly, and her neighbors, this wretched ordinance, the real possibility that even Jack Hemming’s influence might not be enough to protect them . . . and the tide of her emotions was ever rising. She had tasted the salt of her tears too many times in the past month and she was sick of it.
Anzan looked horrified at her words, his many legs gathering beneath him to push up, moving over themselves in a blur as he crossed the room to her in the blink of an eye. “My Ladybug, I would never . . . I did not seek to hurt you, my little witch. But . . . you are far too precious to me to allow my presence to hinder you in any way. Especially now, when you are improving your business.”
“Youare the one who told me I was being ridiculous! You encouraged this! I never would have suggested it if I’d known you were going to use it as an excuse to disappear.”
His voice was solemn, and she imagined that he likely thought himself noble in that moment as he continued. “It would be best if I left. It will halt the ire of your neighbors and allow your new business venture to flourish. You do not need my shadow darkening your future. If loving you from afar is all I am able to do, my Ladybug, I will gladly do it.”
