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“He called her book ‘mommy porn’ and said that Quoth didn’t belong in the story.”
“Did he now?” Morrie bolted upright and rubbed his hands together with glee. “Why didn’t you say so? We’d better get busy. I saw a rather impressive armory next to the meditation room, but it might take us some time to find a sword long enough to go all the way up his sphincter—”
Tappa-tap-tap-TAP-TAP.
“Croak!”
That’s not rain on the window.
“Quoth’s outside!” I cried.
“I should bloody well hope so. I texted him, too.” Heathcliff stomped over to the window and threw it open. A gust of wind whipped inside, followed by a huge black bird that toppled onto the flagstones. It stood up and shook the rain off its feathers, glaring at Heathcliff and hopping about madly. He tried to croak, but he had something long and thin in his mouth. Morrie bent down and took the object and pocketed it so Quoth could hop over and yell at Heathcliff.
I can’t believe you left me out there! After everything I went through to get it. The weather’s awful and I’ve left all my clothes in a tiny bathroom in the art gallery in the middle of the most delicate part of the process to—
“Calm down, Birdie. Mina needs you.”
Black feathers flew in all directions. A moment later, Quoth sat on the other side of the bed, rubbing my back as Morrie held me. “Mina, what happened?”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Heathcliff raged, kicking at the pile of clothing and shoes Morrie had tossed in the corner of the room. “Hugh Briston happened. I’m going togethim. I’m going to use the Geneva Convention as a to-do list. I’ll wait until Jonathan’s back is turned and then I’ll fill every cavity in Briston’s body with assorted cheeses and use his pelvic bones as crackers for a delicious ploughman’s platter—”
“—with his toes as olives?” Quoth piped up.
“Yes. And his pancreas creamed into a nice pâté…”
“No, no, silly boys,” Morrie purred. “You don’t bring down a man like Hugh Briston with cannibalism. You ruin him withbrains. With what Mina overheard this morning, we already have everything we need to ruin him—”
“That’s good.” Heathcliff started tossing Morrie’s crystals into the fireplace. “We’ll tell the media that he’s taking advantage of young, impressionable female writers and arranging his contracts in advance of the retreat. The publishing world will relish the scandal and—”
“Stop!”
The three of them froze, mid-maniacal scheme. Quoth winced.
“As much as I appreciate the sentiment behind this, I have a few problems. First of all, we don’t know if he was taking advantage of Christina,” I said, ticking off my fingers. “She strikes me as someone who knowsexactlywhat she’s doing with Hugh. And if Killian isn’t aware of their affair, then that’s none of our business.
“Second, no one is killing anyone, and you can’t go around saying things like that. Charlie might be a tool, but he’s right – what you didisassault and if the police could get here through the storm, they’d likely be involved by now. Hugh is an important man, and if I want to be a writer, he’s going to be part of that world whether I like it or not. He doesn’t like my books, fine. He’s allowed not to. Not everyone likes the same thing.”
“But he upset you.”
“He did. It hurts when someone rubbishes something you’ve worked so hard on.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Especially when so much of the story is about my own life and my struggles and my love for the three of you. But it is an unusual book, and if I want to be a published author then I have to be okay with critics and reviewers saying mean things about it. Sometimes I might even agree with them.”
“But what did you mean when you said being a writer is more important than how Hugh treats you?” Heathcliff demanded.
I hid my face as the lump in my throat returned. “I didn’t mean it. I was upset.”
But I could barely get the words out without a wobble in my voice.
Quoth sat down beside me and gathered me into his arms. “I get it.”
Heathcliff and Morrie fell silent. A moment later, Morrie said, “We should leave Mina and the birdie alone.”
They turned and left, shutting the door softly behind them. Quoth nuzzled into me. His skin smelled of fire and soot. There must be a fireplace in the art studio.
“Don’t you have to get back to your class?” I asked.
“It can wait. You were saying about becoming a writer being important to you, and why you’re so determined to sit through Hugh’s abuse?”
“All I ever wanted to be was a fashion designer,” I sniffed. “That’s who I thought I was. And if I really still wanted to do that, then I would pursue it, even as a blind person. But I’ve reached peace with my decision to leave that part of my life behind me, except for occasional forays into Shakespearean costume design for village events.”
