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“Gibface flapdoodle?” I wheezed, clutching my stomach as a barking laugh burst out of me. Trust the three of them to find a way to make me laugh.
“Heathcliff told me that one. It’s from his book of Shakespearean insults. If you prefer, I could mention that if his brain was made of dynamite, there wouldn’t be enough to blow his hat off. Although,” he rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I could help with that…”
“No dynamite,” I sniffed, but I couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging on my lips.
“His family tree must look like a cactus,” Heathcliff added, seemingly catching onto the game. “Because everyone on it is a giant prick.”
Quoth piped up. “He’s the reason that the gene pool needs a lifeguard.”
Tears of laughter streamed down my cheeks. I knew I was ruining my makeup, but did it even matter now? I’d been trying to impress Hugh Briston, but that ship hadn’t just sailed, it had been ravaged by pirates.
Morrie struck a pose like an orator. His recent season starring in the Argleton Shakespeare festival as Macbeth had definitely rubbed off on him. “Just because Briston’s a literary snob and his birth certificate is an apology letter to the condom factory, doesn’t mean—”
“It’s not that…” My mind whirred through Hugh’s criticism. “I guess my bookisa mashup of genres. And maybe I made the romance too much of a focus? People can be pretty derisive of romance, which is ridiculous, but it is a big part of the plot. And the heroine has three lovers – maybe that’s too odd for mainstream literature…”
“Who’s calling us odd?” Heathcliff cracks his knuckles. “I’ll harvest his toes.”
“I’d like to curse him so that every time he puts on socks, one of them is always slightly rotated, just enough to be uncomfortable,” Quoth said with a perfectly deadpan voice. It took me several moments to stop laughing enough to be able to speak.
“It’s fine. I guess that…I forget sometimes that what we have is unusual. It’s not for everyone.” I fold my arms, making my decision. “There’s an audience out there for our story, I know it, no matter what Hugh Briston says. He might be the most important voice in publishing, but he’s not the only voice. I’m not going to let him get to me. I’ll enjoy the retreat, learn as much as I can, and go home and make my story even better.”
“Are you sure?” Morrie asked. “Because I think it would be fun to harvest his toes. Or, I have some rather imaginative ways of separating his—”
“I’msure.” I plastered a smile on my face before Morrie could supply me with more grisly revenge fantasies. (Where did he even get ‘harvesting toes’ from?) I gripped Oscar’s harness and gestured in the direction of the music room. “Now, can we go back to the party? I fully intend to drink all the gin and chase down the men with the trays and make sure there’s not a single lamb kofta left for Briston.”
“Alcohol won’t solve all your problems.” Morrie held out his arm and I slipped my hand beneath his. Quoth stood at my other arm, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back, pooling warmth across my skin.
“Neither does milk,” Heathcliff snapped back as he stomped in front of us. “And the government still suggests we drink two glasses a day. Now, how much money do you think I’d have to pay the pianist in the corner to have her play Chopsticks on repeat all evening? If we’re pulling Briston’s beard out through his ear canal, I at least want to bespoil his eardrums.”
CHAPTERNINE
Bree: I finally found Grimalkin asleep in the toy trunk in the children’s room. I set her up in front of the fire in the flat, but she doesn’t want to eat. She just lies there, staring into the flames.
I think she might have caught a rabbit or something and she’s digesting it like a snake.
Oh, and Pax stabbed a first edition of Asterix the Gaul because Edward told him that the Italians were the bad guys. I’ll replace it.
Iwoke to the sounds of someone shuffling around our bedroom. I opened my eyes to find it still dark. Heathcliff snored beside me, his head denting my pillow and his thick arm draped over my middle. On the other side of him, Morrie spooned him, his cheek resting on Heathcliff’s shoulder. My mind whirred, remembering that I was in a strange castle and I hadn’t put my laptop and jewelry in the safe because Morrie insisted that he needed all the space inside for his collection of designer watches.
I bolted upright, grabbing the knife Heathcliff always slipped beneath his pillow and thrusting it at the dark gloom in front of me.
“Who’s there? I may be blind but I once stabbed a vampire with a sword, so don’t mess with me.”
A dark shape moved across the window. “Mina?”
It was Quoth. I sagged with relief.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” Quoth bent over and kissed the top of my head. “I was trying to be quiet.”
“What are you doing?”
“Ssssh, go back to sleep.” Quoth ran a hand through his long hair. “I’m hunting for my boots. Heathcliff dumped a whole pile of clothes on top of my things and I can’t find anything.”
“Why do you need your boots?”
“Oh, I…um…I thought that I’d get up before the whole castle and…and…”
“And go and talk to the ravens?” I knew how excited Quoth got every time he met his fellow birds. We didn’t have ravens in the village, and we’d seen a few in London, but we’d always been too distracted by solving murders to stop and visit with them. In many ways, Quoth had always been more comfortable in himself when he was a raven, so it was nice for him to get to know other birds. And I remembered that he had something he wanted to tell me, but after meeting Hugh last night I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in close to me, breathing in his earthy, chocolatey scent. “Do you want me to come with you? We can talk about that thing you wanted to tell me yesterday.”
