The rats have been practicing.His face remained perfectly serious.They are not very good, but they are enthusiastic.
A laugh broke free, sharp and helpless. “This is the most elaborate avoidance scheme I have ever heard.”
A spark lit in his eyes, the kind he never bothered to hide when he knew he had gotten exactly the reaction he wanted.Thank you.He signed it and bowed as if I had offered him a medal; the wink that followed was pure smugness.
Tension slipped from my shoulders with an exhale. “Tea andhotDevotion it is.”
A rustling shattered the moment as a dozen rats squeezed through the narrow window gap. Their squeaks filled the room with frantic urgency. Finn crouched to greet them, calm as they climbed his legs and tugged at his sleeves. Their thoughts hit me all at once, a storm of words and images that tangled into useless noise.
I followed Finn to the table as he pulled parchment toward him. He wetted the tip of his quill before setting it to the page. Lines flowed across the paper as he shaped the rodents’ chaos into something coherent.
He sighed, shook his head, and shot a scolding look at one rat. After a breath, he dipped the quill and leaned in again, translating their reports into something useful. A courtyard emerged, then a building, then a hall, and finally, a narrow stair. Zane rested his arms around me and looked at it all over my shoulder.
The House of Whispers is more fortified than the Sanguine mansion. Multiple guards at every entrance.Patrols through the halls every hour.He paused, consulting the rats again.
“I don’t understand them. They’re all talking simultaneously.” Frustration bled into my voice.
Focus on them and ignore everything else.Finn signed.
As I tuned out the room, a cacophony of tiny, frantic voices erupted behind my ears. The roar of static transformed, vibrating against my skull and causing my teeth to ache.
“Talk to them,” Finn said, then signed,Tell them to talk to you one at a time until you get a hold of it. Eventually, you can decipher between their voices and filter them out on your own.
I pushed my thoughts into the swarm, but the noise didn’t stop. “I don’t think it’s working.”
Try again, but focus on one rat.
I did as he suggested, lifting my hand as if a gesture would bridge the gap, but my chosen rodent offered no acknowledgment and began grooming his backside.
A fresh variable came to my mind, one that would prove valuable on the trial. “Can we talk mentally with each other?” The scientific impulse pushed my frustration aside.
Finn twisted his lips.We should try.His gaze met mine as our concentration built.
I shoved a thought toward Finn, picturing a single white candle. Silence met me. I tried again, straining until a dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. I threw the mental image of a screaming bird into his mind. Nothing came back. He shook his head, confirming the failure.
I was picturing a dancing carrot. Did you see it?
No,I signed.
Finn’s brow furrowed.I guess we cannot talk mentally and you can only listen to animals. Go ahead and practice it.
The next several minutes brought a few words at a time from the rats or a flood of nonsense. In the meantime, Finn translated every scrap into new lines on the map.
“What else do they know?” My disappointment made the question come out sharper than intended.
There’s a wing where vampires live in spacious rooms.He pointed to a section on the parchment.
The rats argued. “Three guards. No, four. Window small. Window safe. Window dangerous. Queen upstairs. Shiny things. Old blood. Cheese.”The flood of images hit all at once: soldiers paced, a narrow window flickered, a stair twisted upward, something sparkled, a house cat, and one enthusiastic rat hoisted cheese like a trophy.
The roar subsided into a manageable hum as I adjusted my cerebral door. Understanding came in increments. “Cheese. Cheese.” I tuned out the one voice and shifted focus to another.
Finn kept his eyes on my lips and asked,Anything else?
Directing my attention to a new rodent yielded better results. A flash of white petals filled my vision. “Jasmine.” The interpretation came easier as whiskers twitched and a tiny mind conveyed meaning. Images layered over words: a dark stain on stone floors, dried and permanent. Glittering objects caught the moonlight. A pale figure standing in an arched opening high above the ground. “Old blood. The moon. Power. Their queen.”
One rat sat on his shoe and squeaked. Finn nodded, eyes unfocused.
His hands moved with careful deliberation.On a scale of one to ten, kidnapping their queen is all the deaths. Every possible death. New deaths we have not invented yet. We have three people, plus Ash andBoris.
