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The broom finished its work and fell to the floor, the dustpan landing beside it after emptying debris into the trash can one last time. I stared at the remains of the blown glass baubles and balls and sighed.
"I really mucked it up this time, didn't I? Iris, why don't you put the delicate ornaments up top, get some satin and resin ones for the lower branches, and then go ahead and use your spell. I'll try to keep myself under control." I didn't want to destroy the holidays, and when I thought about our childhood, this was pretty much the way our mother had taken care of the issue.
Iris relented. "Okay. Just be good, please? I'll go put the kettle on for tea. We've had quite enough excitement for one evening," she said, bustling out of the room, taking the trash, can with her.
I motioned for Menolly and Camille to join me on the sofa. "If only Iris was right, and the excitement is over, but it's not." I glared at the tree.
"What's going on?" Camille turned down the music—Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker—and curled up on my left side. Menolly snuggled up on my right, and we held hands like we had when we were little.
I told them about Zachary's call and my visit to Siobhan. "So, the Hunters Moon Clan is a nest of unnatural werespiders. Hobo werespiders."
Camille looked ready to swallow her tongue. "I'm not afraid of spiders, but this isn't exactly Charlotte hanging out in the barn, is it? Spiders don't think. Werespiders have all the natural cunning of regular spiders plus intelligence. And if they're an abomination, who knows what other abilities they have? Yuck." She shuddered.
"Tell me about it." I was about to bring up my idea about visiting the Autumn Lord when the phone rang again. I grabbed the cordless phone in the living room. It was Chase.
"Hey, Puss, got the info you wanted. Or what I could dredge up," he said.
"Let me get a pen," I said.
"If you want, but I didn't find out that much."
"I'm putting you on speakerphone," I said, motioning to Camille and Menolly to listen in. I punched the button and picked up a notebook and pen. "Can you hear me? Go ahead."
Chase's voice sounded tinny coming over the speaker. "Okay, here it is. I got a hit on Zachary Lyonnesse. He was arrested two years ago for a bar brawl. He blamed the other guy for starting it, but when neither one would press charges, the case was dropped and they were both let go with a warning."
"Who was he fighting with?" I asked, writing down the information so I didn't forget it. It was better to err on the side of caution; I didn't want us making any mistakes we couldn't undo.
"Geph von Spynne."
"Spell it, please?"
Chase spelled it out and then continued. "He's a tall, gangly dude with short, spiked brown hair. He and Lyonnesse were really going at it. Zachary took a nasty knife wound to the shoulder. Doc counted thirty stitches to sew him up, but apparently Lyonnesse refused anesthesia. Didn't want any pain pills afterward, either. The witnesses in the bar say the two were out for blood."
Geph von Spynne. I didn't recognize the name, but it sounded oddly familiar, like I should know it but had just forgotten. "Your informants have anything on the Hunters Moon Clan or this von Spynne character?"
Chase cleared his throat. "Uh, no. The minute I mentioned his name—and the Hunters Moon Clan—all three of them clammed up and wouldn't say a word, even for the promise of a twenty-dollar bill. And these are guys that would rat out their mother for a shot of whiskey. My bet is that they know something, all right, but are too afraid to say anything. If you can find out anything more, I suggest you do. We should probably add this information to our database."
I blinked. "We'll do what we can. Did anybody talk to Siobhan?"
"On that score," his voice lightened, "we have better news. Jacinth set up an appointment to give her a thorough examination. With a little luck, we may be able to solve your friend's problem."
With a little luck… "Thanks, sugar," I said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." As I hung up, I realized I'd developed a lump the size of a baseball in my stomach.
"Well, not much to go on," Camille said, frowning. "Where do we start?"
"I can comb the dregs at the Wayfarer for information," Menolly offered. "Somebody there might know something."
"Hold on." I raised my hand. "Something crossed my mind earlier this afternoon. The Hunters Moon Clan are spiderlings. They could have spies hiding out anywhere. In the corners of the bar. Or the house," I said softly, eying the ceiling.
"We aren't even certain they have anything to do with the . murders out at the Puma Pride enclave. Why would they have spies in the Wayfarer?" Menolly floated up to the ceiling and tinkered with the guy wire holding the tree in place. "There, that should do it," she said and returned to the floor.
"I have a hunch about this," I said. "Trust me; they're involved. And I know who we can talk to in order to dig deeper into their secrets, but I don't think you're going to like it. It's risky, but I think we have to chance it."
"Who are you talking about?" Camille said. "What risk?"
Menolly gazed at me, her eyes a pale frost that burrowed into my heart. "I know who you're talking about, and you're out of your mind."
I stared back at her, straightening my shoulders. "I know perfectly well what risks we'd run, but, Menolly, there's a lot more going on here than just a serial killer out to knock off the Puma Weres. I know it. I wish you'd believe me and show a little trust in my instincts."
