Kingsley shook his head, staring off in the direction they’d gone, before glancing over his shoulder at seemingly nothing.
“Desperate times,” he murmured. “I have room,” he said a little more loudly. “So do Mimi and Mom. We can see if anyone will open their homes, and we’ll fill up every last hotel or inn. Worst case, we can put the…less chatty garhettes in some of the friendlier border towns. They are more Jane than shifter, so as long as they don’t talk too much about why they’re here and what we’re doing, they should be fine.”
“Just when we get the tiniest handle on things, something else comes up and it all goes to hell,” I said, running my hand down my face. “First things first. Edgar, come on. We need to sort out those flowers. And I swear to you, if you get me into hot water with those things, I will finally retire you.
Do you understand?”
I didn’t even listen to his reply, instead walking off quickly for the car. The faster we got everyone situated and started training, the better. More gargoyles would be coming in, and now potentially a bunch of garhettes. There was no time to waste.
TWENTY-ONE
Niamh
KIDS SQUEALED with delight and came running when Niamh walked through the center of town in her
“scary unicorn” form, as the kids were calling it. Her golden hooves and mane sparkled in the sun, something that always made the garhettes loudly ooh and ahh. And there were now plenty of garhettes to do it.
Five days had passed since Aunt Florence had shown up. Patty had reacted exactly as Aunt Florence had said she would—talking to her network and telling them about the stand the garhettes were making in gargoyle society. First it had been the book club and a few friends who’d followed Aunt Florence, and then some younger ones—twenty-somethings—had shown up, followed by the sort of influx that had made Kingsley reevaluate his earlier stance on the more the merrier.
Gerard from Khaavalor had only gotten in yesterday with his people because the garhettes in his cairn had revolted against staying behind. He didn’t go into specifics, but the ladies had supposedly made life absolutely unlivable for the gargoyles. With Jessie’s approval, he’d brought those whom he’d thought would help the most, relieved that their inclusion had mostly appeased those who hadn’t made the cut.
The thing was, unlike the gargoyles, who strutted around and played at being Mr. Strong and Mr.
Tough and an unholy pain in the arse, the garhettes were mostly a real delight to have around. The ones who’d gotten taken in by families helped earn their keep, cooking and cleaning without being asked, looking after the kids when the parents were tired, and chatting and visiting in that easy, excitable way of theirs. There wasn’t one spare room in the territory that wasn’t quickly offered to a garhette, the wives deciding without even asking their husbands.
They’d mostly run out of space, though. Any more showing up would have to start camping in the parks, or head into the border towns. Given the latter still had a host of mages hanging around, Kingsley and Austin had come to a crossroads.
Kingsley had grudgingly accepted that there were probably mages in those towns, and the presences Austin’s people had sensed upon their arrival were very likely those mages. Logic.
However, the mages about town hadn’t made a move in all this time. They hadn’t started fights, they hadn’t abducted anyone to question them, and they hadn’t bothered the Dicks and Janes. They were a neutral entity, bringing money into the local businesses. As such, Kingsley didn’t want to go in, make a bunch of noise, and potentially have the border towns look badly upon the pack. His pack
had to continue living within miles of those towns when this was all through, and they needed to keep some sort of truce.
Austin got all that. Hell, Niamh got all that.
But those mages wouldn’t stay docile forever. And Jessie didn’t want the garhettes—or any of their people—to be in the danger zone. Those mages in the bars could turn on a dime and decide they wanted to take out the enemy. Austin agreed wholeheartedly.
And so, it was back to Plan A. Go into the towns stealth-like, grab the mages, question them, and say nothing to nobody.
Tonight was the night.
Good thing Niamh had never stopped planning for this. She’d spent the last five days bar-hopping, laying the bait. Now it was time to make good on what she’d learned.
First, though, she was taking the emotional temperature of the shifter town, something she did every day. Basically, help Jessie make sure all her people and the gargoyles were coexisting with the shifters. That was why Niamh trotted around in her alicorn form more often than not. At least where there were children. She didn’t have to make small talk with the locals, something that never helped her likability anyway, and the kids had a grand ol’ time. Easy.