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"Mistletoe!" Feddrah-Dahns shifted nervously, trying to navigate through the furniture over to the pixie's side.
Delilah beat him to it, kneeling down beside the table. "Are you okay? Mistletoe? Are you hurt?"
The pixie staggered to his feet. "Blimey, that was one hell of a ride," he muttered. "What kind of poison is in that drink you gave me?"
I pulled myself free of Smoky's embrace and hurried over to help. "I guess pixies and soda pop don't mix. How's your stomach? Are you bloated? You have a lot of gas?"
Delilah gave me a disgusted look. "Why'd you ask him that?"
"If he's got gas, this could happen again. He's like a bottle rocket." I snorted. "Congratulations. Only you could find a way to launch a pixie into orbit, Delilah. We'd better put him someplace safe where he won't break his neck." I glanced around. "Trouble is, we don't have a padded cell, pixie-size. Carbonation is a powerful tool. I'm amazed that FBHs don't find some way to turn it into a weapon."
Truth was, I didn't even like soda. As much as I liked sweets, I found the taste too cloying. I could handle all manner of sugars in my coffee, but for cool drinks, I preferred wine or water.
Mistletoe glared at Delilah. "Leave it to the cat to give me something to make my tum sick." He rubbed his belly. "I feel a bit under the weather. My insides feel distended." And sure enough, I could hear the gurgling.
I glanced around. "I know! Delilah, cover the sides of Maggie's playpen with pillows, and put Mistletoe in there until the bubbles wear themselves out."
With the pixie complaining every step of the way, Delilah took him into the kitchen. Meanwhile, I turned back to Smoky. "I'll make that call, and we'll be off," I said weakly. He wasn't going to be in a good mood much longer, and I wanted out of here before his patience vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Right," he said, looking put out.
I hurried into the kitchen, where Delilah was making up a padded cell for the pixie. "Cripes, this is just the most convoluted couple of days we've had in a long time." I pulled out my notepad and punched in the number I'd looked up for the Mountain Aspen Retreat.
"Who are you calling?" Delilah asked.
"That mental institution—the one Morio talked about. There's a man there who knows about the third spirit seal. Trouble is, he's an inmate and won't—hold on," I said as a voice came on the other end of the line.
"Mountain Aspen Retreat, how may I direct your call?"
I thought fast. "I'm a relative of one of your clients, and I want to come visit him. Who do I talk to about scheduling a visit?"
"One moment," she said, putting me on hold.
Delilah narrowed her eyes. "Give me his name, and I'll run him through Chase's computer before Morio and I head out to check out that shop.
I motioned for her to hand me a steno pad and scribbled Ben's name on it, and the name of the Mountain Aspen Retreat. As I handed it back to her, a different receptionist came back on the line.
"Front desk. Ms. Marshall speaking. May I help you?"
"Yes, I'd like to make an appointment to come see my… cousin. He's a patient at Mountain Aspen." Cousin was good; I could hide my glamour if I tried. Buy a simple dress for the occasion. Yeah, right, I thought. If nothing else, I could charm the receptionist to let me through.
"His name, please?"
"Ben. Benjamin Welter." I though for a moment, then added, "I know he's not very responsive, but I thought I'd like to just come sit with him for awhile."
A brief pause. "I see here that it's been seven weeks since his last visitor. Are your aunt and uncle still on their world cruise?" A hint of disapproval in her voice. Ms. Marshall probably cared more about the patients than their own families. I decided to capitalize on it.
"I have no idea. I've been away at school, and this is the first time I've been home in over two years. I had no idea that my cousin was having problems until now. My name's Camille, by the way."
"When were you thinking of coming out, Ms. Welter?"
I didn't correct her. Let her think that I was related on the father's side—it didn't make any difference to me. "Would tomorrow be too soon? Around three P.M.?"
The sound of tapping keys and then she said, "I've got you scheduled and on the visitor list. Thank you, Camille. We encourage families to visit as often as possible. Even when the patient is as unresponsive as Benjamin, it seems to help them. You know, just having people here who care."
As I hung up, I felt like a first-class rat. But then again, Benjamin didn't want human companionship. Whether I was actually his cousin or just the stranger I really was, it probably wouldn't matter to him. And maybe, just maybe, there was something I could do to help. I pushed back the chair and stood.
Delilah glanced over at me. She'd managed to fashion a padded pen of sorts for Mistletoe, who looked miserable, stretched out on the mattress pad. He groaned and rubbed his belly.
