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Damn Octavia and her tiny hatchback.
"Where have you been?" Tacey demanded, marching up to the car before Octavia had even brought it to a halt. "You said you'd stay here and watch Rory tonight, and I need to..."
"Oh, I was at the café. The manager of the backpackers called to say there'd been a break in and the police were there, and you were busy putting Rory to bed, so I answered the phone and went over to see what the damage was. It looks like they climbed through the upstairs window, then went straight for the cash register, and when they saw it was empty, they smashed one of the cake cabinets on the counter, and then left. By the time I got there, the police forensics guy was already dusting for finger prints, but he said he didn't expect to find any except ones from your staff, because there were only glove smudges on the window upstairs, so your burglar was probably wearing gloves." Octavia closed the car door and locked it behind her. "Don't worry, though. I swept up the glass, and someone will be in to repair the window first thing tomorrow morning." She glanced at her watch. "Don't you need to do the grocery shopping? The shops close in less than an hour, and you know how Callie gets if she doesn't have breakfast."
Tacey couldn't seem to close her mouth. Fuck, Octavia was the best sister in the world. Tacey threw her arms around her and hugged her hard. "You are the best, you know that? I don't know how I'd cope without you."
Octavia endured the embrace, then gently pried Tacey off her. "You wouldn't, and we both know it. Oh, and I know you said I should put what I want on the list, but...honestly, all I want is some of your cooking, to wash the taste of all that camp food out of my memory. Even your worst experimental cooking failure will taste better than THAT."
"Nothing's as bad as chili chocolate burritos," Tacey said, her tongue still burning at the memory.
"I liked those. Sure, they might have been better with a little less spice, but Callie made more than enough margaritas to put the fire out. I think it's time for a second try. Maybe if you make a Rory-safe version, it'll taste so good, you'll be serving it for lunch in your café before you know it. I mean, who's going to say no to having chocolate for lunch?"
Any sensible mother who had a daughter like Rory, Tacey thought but didn't say. "All right, I'll race up to the shop. Rory's in bed and she should be asleep, but if she gets up..."
Octavia waved her hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Drink of water, trip to the toilet, whatever, just straight back to bed and no more TV until tomorrow. For her or me. I wanted to brainstorm some of the new ideas for the VR project I intend to work on tomorrow. You don't mind me working upstairs this week, do you? Rochelle's moved all her stuff out, so it's not like I'll be in her way."
Tacey nodded automatically. She didn't understand why Octavia's VR project was so important to her, but if the space above the café was her price for all her help with Rory and the café, Tacey couldn't refuse.
"Off you go and get your grocery on, then!" Octavia said, shooing Tacey toward her own car.
Sometimes Tacey wondered which one of them was supposed to be the older, more organised sister. But right now, she didn't care.
ELEVEN
This time, Wystan doesn't so much as hear the call as feel it in his bones, dragging him down from the roof and into the garden. Only he forced himself to stop in the shadow on the veranda, to take a breath to steel himself before he presented himself to her. He couldn't afford to mess this up, or she'd banish him to the roof again. To protect her, she needed to allow him to stay close, with no walls between them.
Which meant he had to make a good enough impression to make her reconsider her no monsters in the house rule. Or at least to allow him to be an exception to that rule...
This would take some real fancy talking, which wasn't exactly his strength. All his life he'd been a farmer, and farmers were anything but fancy. Damn, he wished Effie were here to help him now.
Powerful bright lights blinded him, moving up the drive. It was one of those horseless carriages these girls all seemed to possess, with the red haired woman's sister at the wheel. Tacey, her name was, he'd learned, though he suspected it was a pet name for something else. After all, the sister's name was Octavia, so Tacey's parents had surely bestowed her with a similarly formal, Latin-sounding name.
Then again, she called her daughter Rory...
The two women talked of a burglary at a café. The place Tacey worked, he surmised, if that was where she went early each morning, before anyone else in the house was awake.
Perhaps that was where she needed protecting, instead of this house she shared with her daughter and her sister. Oh, and the witch, who'd disappeared with Grant. If he'd expected trouble from anyone, it would have been those two, but with them gone, this house was so calm, he couldn't understand why Tacey needed a protector.
So after Tacey returned from her shopping trip, and she and her sister retired for the night, he watched and waited for...well, something to happen, and when it did not, he firmed up his resolve. When Tacey left for work in the morning, he would go with her to the café, and watch over her there.
The moon was still high in the sky, with no sign of the coming dawn, when Tacey set off in her horseless carriage the next day. She did not seem to notice the flying shape high above her, not even when she stopped at a red light that evidently signalled some sort of warning Wystan did not understand.
Finally, she drew her carriage up in front of the glass fronted windows of the Shut Up Café. Wystan could only stare. He couldn't imagine anyone in his time allowing such a coarsely named café to exist, let alone proclaim its name to all and sundry in a well-lit sign facing the street, yet here it was.
The interior was dark as she turned the key in the lock and opened the doors, slipping quickly inside before slamming them shut behind her, as though she did not want him to follow.
Wystan did not mind. In fact, he'd expected to have to keep his distance, so he'd already taken up a vantage point on top of the building across the road from the café, beside a squat gargoyle statue with an unspeakably smug expression. Wystan was tempted to tip it off the roof to smash on the road below, but he stayed his hand. Better not to alert anyone to his watchful presence.
When the sky began to lighten, he crossed the street and slid between the walls of the café, so that he might continue to keep watch over her during daylight.
He watched, all right...and he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from her. Tacey was not a mere employee, but the proprietress of the café, which served everyone from common workers in dust-stained clothes up to fancy men in formal suits. Stranger still, she served them all the same, making everyone line up for service as though every man or woman who came into her establishment was equal. And the way she served them...it was like she was at home, and they were her guests, not her customers. For the first time, he was reminded of Effie, though Tacey looked nothing like her. All hard lines to Effie's softness, and tall as a man, where Effie had barely come up to his shoulder.
Oh, and Tacey could cook...the delectable scents that wafted out of her kitchen were enough to make even a gargoyle drool. Thank the heavens he was within the walls when he did, or he would have left a mighty puddle by the end of the day. Muffins, cakes, biscuits and all manner of savoury things, in addition to cup after cup of coffee that smelled better than any brew he'd ever drunk.
A thousand times, he found himself wanting to venture out from his hiding place. To introduce himself to her as her protector. To ask for a cup of coffee, even if only to inhale the scent, for he had no need to drink it. Or walk up to the counter, look her in the eye and beg her to reconsider her rule about monsters, for surely the café owner who treated every man the same, whether high class or low, could find it in her heart to be civil to someone like him...
But he resisted, and remained within the walls, until finally the sun set and he stationed himself on a neighbouring rooftop again, for with distance, it was slightly easier to resist temptation. Not to mention that up here, he was reminded that the smug, squat gargoyle watched his every move, judging.
