“Oh no. A bite can be so intimate, don’t you think?”

Considering some of the fantasies I’d had about Ilya, apparently I did think biting and intimacy could go together.

“Besides, there are other ways to feed,” Natasha added.

I was not going to think about that because thinking about it made me feel like a walking juice bar.

Raised voices, muffled by the closed door, were silenced by the sound of something large and metallic being dropped. I didn’t know much about cars, even when they weren’t being dropped, but I guessed it had sounded like that because the tires were now flat.

“How many Elders does it take to flip a car?” I asked.

She gave me a puzzled smile. “Is that a human joke?”

Not likely. “Maybe.”

“While we’re waiting for the police officer to ask his questions, why don’t we review your accounts?”

I figured she already knew I couldn’t afford what she usually charged any more than I could afford my attorney, so I told her that was a nifty idea and began counting the hours until I could shove my first guests out the door.

CHAPTER 49

Grimshaw

Moonsday, Sumor 3

As far as Grimshaw was concerned, situations like this were exactly the reason why cops hated coming to places like Sproing or The Jumble unless it was to help a stranded motorist or look for a missing child. The Others in the wild country usually left you alone if you were helping a motorist, and they sometimes assisted in the search if they understood you were looking for a lost child. But when humans ran afoul of the terra indigene? Nothing a cop could do except try to extract the humans without antagonizing the Others.

Well, he could shoot the humans. He was pretty sure the Others wouldn’t object to that. Explaining that to Captain Hargreaves or a board of inquiry might be tricky—assuming the bodies didn’t just disappear before he had time to file his report.

Which made him wonder why the body of Franklin Cartwright had been left in a place where it would be found and hadn’t shown much sign of predation. Had the man been left as a warning about the penalties of trespassing in The Jumble, or was it a case of the smaller terra indigene not daring to grab anything from a kill made by an Elder?

Or most anything, he amended, remembering the call Vicki DeVine had made about the eyeball that had started the initial inquiry.

Hershel, a large gray-haired man who was older than the other two men, arrived at the main house and was as vocal as Vaughn and Darren about their treatment here and the damage to their vehicles. Grimshaw figured Hershel really had been in his cabin resting, or at least doing nothing that upset the Others, since his UV was the only one that hadn’t been damaged or vandalized.

“Let’s go into the library and see if we can work this out,” he said. He didn’t see the point of standing in the hall, and he wanted to get a look at Trina. She might need a doctor. Then again, she might need nothing more than a glass of juice and rest to make up for the blood donation she’d made as a penalty for picking a lock on a door that was clearly marked PRIVATE.

They just argued more loudly until the crash of something large and metallic.

“I’ll go,” Julian said. He hurried out, then hurried back in. “The overturned UV has been righted. The tires are flat, and there is some other damage—mostly dents and scratches.”

Vaughn ran out to take a look. They heard a shocked sound, almost a scream, before he ran back in.

“Someone is going to pay for that,” he shouted.

“You will,” Ilya said. “And for the tow truck unless it is your intention to abandon the vehicle.”

Vaughn’s eyes were filled with fury and hatred, and Grimshaw wondered if the man had been a member of the Humans First and Last movement before most of the humans who had joined the HFL were killed by the Elders and Elementals. Anyone left had survived by hiding their affiliation. But if Vaughn was one of the investors in this luxury resort nonsense, that would be sufficient reason to hate the Sanguinati’s interference.

Finally Grimshaw had enough. “Anyone who wants me to make an official report will come into the library. It’s a onetime offer. You blow me off now and then want a report because your insurance company won’t pay for repairs without one, then you’ll have to pocket the expense.”

“This is outrageous!” Hershel said. “Who is your superior? I’m going to file a complaint.”

Oh, he didn’t want to do what he was about to do because this was the first step in becoming entangled in the briars that were the village of Sproing. It was also the fastest way to make sure he wasn’t hamstrung by orders that might come from someone other than Captain Hargreaves. “I’m currently the chief of police in Sproing, so if you want to file a complaint, you file it with me. I can tell you already where I’ll put it.”

Grimshaw walked into the library and waited. At first, the only individual to follow him was Ilya Sanguinati. Then the five humans entered the room, grumbling and complaining.

A minute later, Julian slipped into the library. “Definite signs that someone picked the lock on the office door. Not what I would call a professional job, but it was done by someone who has had some practice. You might want to take fingerprints and send them on to see if they match any unsolved burglaries at resorts around the Finger Lakes.”

That started all of them yapping again, even Trina, who didn’t look as wan as she had a minute ago. Which made sense since he was certain that her fingerprints would be on the door.

Grimshaw wanted to smack his friend, but all he said was, “Fox. Henhouse.”

The guests didn’t get the reference. Ilya Sanguinati laughed.

The laughter shut everyone up.

“We aren’t staying here unless you deal with those . . . creatures,” Darren said.

“You’re guests,” Ilya said. “The terra indigene live here. You can talk to Ms. DeVine about an early checkout. I believe I can convince her to forgive the rest of your bills as long as the checks you sent for the deposits on the cabin and suites didn’t bounce.”

“Ms. Xavier, who runs the boardinghouse in Sproing, is in the kitchen,” Grimshaw said, looking pointedly at Julian. “You could inquire if she has sufficient rooms available.”

“I’ll do that.” Julian left the library.

“Boardinghouse?” Pamella sounded offended that he would suggest such a thing. “I don’t think so. Where is the nearest hotel that isn’t a dump?”

“Bristol,” Grimshaw replied.

Pamella sniffed in a way that said there was nothing suitable in Bristol.

Julian returned. “As a favor to Ms. DeVine, Ineke will rent them rooms for the rest of today. But they need to be out by eleven a.m. tomorrow because, after that, all her rooms are booked through the rest of the month.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Vaughn said. “We may need to stay longer to settle legal issues.”

“Then you’ll have to stay somewhere else,” Julian replied.

“Where?” Vaughn snapped.

Grimshaw thought about the Mill Creek Cabins, but realized that not only were those rented on an annual lease; they were owned by the Sanguinati at Silence Lodge. Not the kind of landlords these humans would want.

Darren, Vaughn, and Hershel looked at one another. One by one, they nodded, as if casting a vote.

“Fine,” Darren said. “We’ll stay at the boardinghouse until we conclude our business.”

“Until eleven a.m. tomorrow,” Grimshaw corrected.

He was sure getting him reassigned to some remote human village in the Northeast was going to be a high priority for these men. He’d call Captain Hargreaves and give him a heads-up, but they would be out of the boardinghouse before they could put anything in motion.

He hoped that was true.

“Ms. Xavier will be going back to her place in about half an hour,” Julian said. “She can fit two people and some luggage in her car. The rest of you will have to ride in the available UV.”

“What are you going to do with the other two vehicles?” Grimshaw asked Vaughn and Darren.

“We’ll leave them here. For now,” Vaughn replied.