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Authors: Katie MacAlister
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them so long as they stood. That
sounds to me like very good motivation for not wanting to face the
reality of the loss of your property.”
His face tightened. “You’ve been busy.
Looked me up, did you?”
I smiled. “I work for the Akashic League.
Their records are extremely extensive when it comes to Otherworld
citizens, so it wasn’t difficult to find a background on you.
You’re an orthodox polter, born 1902—which means you’ve had long
enough to drop the extra arms, and you work in the mundane world as
a U.S. marshal. Your family has guarded this house since it was
built, although it wasn’t until the 1990s that you bought it
outright and took over ownership from the mortal family who
inhabited it. I believe those are all the pertinent facts.”
“Not quite all,” he said, shifting the
shotgun to his left hand. I fought the urge to back up a step or
two at the hard look on his face. “You missed one: I, too, work for
the Akashic League.”
That took me aback for a moment. “You do? In
what capacity?”
“I am a member of the watch,” he said with a
smile that was far from reassuring.
“He’s a watch?” Pixie asked in a puzzled
whisper. “How can you be a member of a watch?”
I didn’t have time to do more than wonder
why she wasn’t aware of the Otherworld police system. Evidently
Sergei filled her in, because it wasn’t a few seconds later that
she said, “Oh, great, he’s a cop. They were always arresting my
foster dad. Although he had it coming a couple of times.”
“ ‘Mad, bad, and dangerous to know,’ ” I
quoted softly.
Adam all but smirked. “I’m not Lord Byron,
but it fits well enough. And you aren’t the only one who used the
League’s archives to look things up. I know all about the
wergeld.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, considering his
unspoken threat.
“You know? Who did Karma kill? She won’t
tell me anything!” Pixie complained.
I prayed for patience. “Many people know
about my history. It’s not relevant right now, however. My husband,
who is due here at any minute, is relevant. He will have
little respect for the fact that you’re a marshal, and none for the
fact that you’re a member of the Otherworld’s elite police force.
You’re going to have to face that legally he owns your house, Adam.
He’s mortal. You’re not. By the laws that govern the League, you
can’t do anything to seriously harm him.”
“Except in self-defense,” he corrected,
taking up an aggressive stance. “I have no doubt he will attempt to
attack me, at which point I will legally be able to defend myself
and my home.”
“You don’t know Spider,” I said, shaking my
head. “He’s—”
“Oooh, guests! Adam, you didn’t tell me we
were to have guests ! And me without mint juleps or fresh
gingerbread. A domovoi! And merciful Scot, another polter!”
Pixie, who had been loudly chewing gum,
stopped to eye the young man with long blond curls, clad in what
seemed to be late-Victorian garb, as he appeared in front of her.
He wore a highly anachronistic bright yellow apron bearing the
words IS THAT A SAUSAGE ON MY GRILL, OR AM I JUST HAPPY TO SEE YOU?
“Not more bigots!”
The spirit squealed. “Not in the least, my
dear girl! We positively love polters here! Adam, why didn’t you
tell me we were going to have guests?”
“Get back in the house!” For a moment, Adam
looked disconcerted as he attempted to shoo the spirit back through
the front door. “I told you it wasn’t safe out here!”
“Don’t be ridiculous; these lovely ladies
wouldn’t dream of harming anyone! Julie! You simply have to come
out here! We have guests!”
“No,” Adam said, throwing himself across the
front door. “No one else—”
“This had better be important, because my
egg whites aren’t even close to stiff yet, and you know what a
disaster limp whites can be… Sweet St. Peter and all the saints!
Lady visitors!” The spirit of a second young man swept right
through
sounds to me like very good motivation for not wanting to face the
reality of the loss of your property.”
His face tightened. “You’ve been busy.
Looked me up, did you?”
I smiled. “I work for the Akashic League.
Their records are extremely extensive when it comes to Otherworld
citizens, so it wasn’t difficult to find a background on you.
You’re an orthodox polter, born 1902—which means you’ve had long
enough to drop the extra arms, and you work in the mundane world as
a U.S. marshal. Your family has guarded this house since it was
built, although it wasn’t until the 1990s that you bought it
outright and took over ownership from the mortal family who
inhabited it. I believe those are all the pertinent facts.”
“Not quite all,” he said, shifting the
shotgun to his left hand. I fought the urge to back up a step or
two at the hard look on his face. “You missed one: I, too, work for
the Akashic League.”
That took me aback for a moment. “You do? In
what capacity?”
“I am a member of the watch,” he said with a
smile that was far from reassuring.
“He’s a watch?” Pixie asked in a puzzled
whisper. “How can you be a member of a watch?”
I didn’t have time to do more than wonder
why she wasn’t aware of the Otherworld police system. Evidently
Sergei filled her in, because it wasn’t a few seconds later that
she said, “Oh, great, he’s a cop. They were always arresting my
foster dad. Although he had it coming a couple of times.”
“ ‘Mad, bad, and dangerous to know,’ ” I
quoted softly.
Adam all but smirked. “I’m not Lord Byron,
but it fits well enough. And you aren’t the only one who used the
League’s archives to look things up. I know all about the
wergeld.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, considering his
unspoken threat.
“You know? Who did Karma kill? She won’t
tell me anything!” Pixie complained.
I prayed for patience. “Many people know
about my history. It’s not relevant right now, however. My husband,
who is due here at any minute, is relevant. He will have
little respect for the fact that you’re a marshal, and none for the
fact that you’re a member of the Otherworld’s elite police force.
You’re going to have to face that legally he owns your house, Adam.
He’s mortal. You’re not. By the laws that govern the League, you
can’t do anything to seriously harm him.”
“Except in self-defense,” he corrected,
taking up an aggressive stance. “I have no doubt he will attempt to
attack me, at which point I will legally be able to defend myself
and my home.”
“You don’t know Spider,” I said, shaking my
head. “He’s—”
“Oooh, guests! Adam, you didn’t tell me we
were to have guests ! And me without mint juleps or fresh
gingerbread. A domovoi! And merciful Scot, another polter!”
Pixie, who had been loudly chewing gum,
stopped to eye the young man with long blond curls, clad in what
seemed to be late-Victorian garb, as he appeared in front of her.
He wore a highly anachronistic bright yellow apron bearing the
words IS THAT A SAUSAGE ON MY GRILL, OR AM I JUST HAPPY TO SEE YOU?
“Not more bigots!”
The spirit squealed. “Not in the least, my
dear girl! We positively love polters here! Adam, why didn’t you
tell me we were going to have guests?”
“Get back in the house!” For a moment, Adam
looked disconcerted as he attempted to shoo the spirit back through
the front door. “I told you it wasn’t safe out here!”
“Don’t be ridiculous; these lovely ladies
wouldn’t dream of harming anyone! Julie! You simply have to come
out here! We have guests!”
“No,” Adam said, throwing himself across the
front door. “No one else—”
“This had better be important, because my
egg whites aren’t even close to stiff yet, and you know what a
disaster limp whites can be… Sweet St. Peter and all the saints!
Lady visitors!” The spirit of a second young man swept right
through
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