They stood like that for a moment longer than was strictly necessary. Then Holly pulled her hand away and reached for a knife.
“Here.” She cut a slice of pot pie and slid it onto a plate. “You should try some. Quality control.”
Rasker accepted the plate with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Quality control.”
“Professional opinion.” She handed him a fork. “I value your feedback.”
He took a bite, and his expression shifted into something she hadn’t seen before. Genuine pleasure. “This is excellent.”
“Better than burnt muffins?”
“Significantly.” He took another bite, then moved toward the exit. “I should go before your guests arrive. I’m keeping this, though,” he said, gesturing toward the slice with his fork.
“Of course. I can’t serve it with a bite taken out of it.”
He smiled. “Goodbye, Holly.”
“I hope to see you soon,” Holly said in a rush of words that came out a touch more sincere than she intended.
Rasker’s gaze held hers for a beat longer. “You will.”
He slipped out the door just as footsteps sounded in the hallway. The hotel guests entered the lounge, their faces brightening as the scent of fresh-baked pot pie reached them.
“Are you serving a meal?” the young man with tired eyes asked hopefully.
Holly smiled and picked up the knife. “I am. Please, have a seat.”
Twenty-Five
Holly stood in the middle of Mish’s living room as fourteen identical children formed a circle around her and stared. Ather.
She had offered to do this a week ago, back when she was desperate to please six visitors who didnotwant to be stuck on Moone’s Landing overnight, but standing here now, surrounded by fourteen small beings with their mother’s orange hair, blank expressions, and their unsettling hive-mind coordination, Holly was beginning to regret her choices.
Stay calm, she told herself.They’re just children. Children who happen to share a single consciousness and could probably overwhelm her in seconds if they decided they didn’t like her.
Sweat prickled at her hairline.
Mish had given her rapid-fire instructions before leaving for a major harvest and cultivation session with Alyce in the garden. Most of it had been a blur of feeding and bedtime schedules and warnings about which cabinets were off-limits. Any hope Holly had of utilizing the “happy room” was dashed as Mish explained that the “happy room” was actually the basement, where the children would sit in the dark and hum in various harmonizing tones. They loved it. Could do it for hours, as odd as it soundedto Holly, and it often put them to sleep. But Mish couldn’t use that option very often, as italsoreinforced their hive mind. Being around people was the key to their maturity, so the happy room option was off the table.
But one thing had stuck in Holly’s mind: the children loved a certain animated show that transmitted from the Ursoa system. It was so popular with children of many species that it streamed on one of the rare long-range frequencies. If all else failed, Mish had said, put onthe show.
All else was failing. Fourteen pairs of eyes blinked at her in perfect unison.
Holly wracked her brain. Which frequency was it? Mish had mentioned a number. Something with a seven in it. Or was it a nine?
Seventy-three. That was it.
She plastered on a smile that she hoped looked confident and not terrified. “Would you like to watch Vakka-Vakka Loo-Voo?”
Fourteen heads nodded in perfect synchronization.
Holly shuffled toward the large screen on the wall, the group moving with her like a school of fish around a piece of bread. She found the transmission controls and navigated to frequency seventy-three, silently hoping there would be no interference today.
There wasn’t. The screen flickered to life, and a trio of tentacled animated aliens appeared, dancing and singing in bright colors.
“Pip-pap-loo fruit is the sweetest treat! Pip-pap-loo fruit just can’t be beat!”
Holly had never heard of pip-pap-loo fruit. She suspected she never wanted to.
