You’re right, Wyatt. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that.
She hadn’t because she’d never had a childhood, parents or a family. She thought first like a soldier, not a mother. She didn’t have experience to draw from. She had no parents of her own to give her a road map to follow. There would always be gaps in her parenting because of that, gaps he could fill in. She needed him whether or not she wanted to admit it.
Why should you have? You don’ have that kind of experience. I was lucky to have Nonny. She taught me a few things that might come in handy. He’s on the steps.
Wyatt stepped back to allow Larry to come onto the porch. Malichai, they’re restless out here and I can guarantee they’ll be on the move the moment we’re inside.
No worries, Ezekiel assured, suddenly all business. I’ve got him covered. I’ve got a good vantage point.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard of strange happenings in the swamp lately,” Larry said, suddenly wanting a conversation. He even managed to pitch his voice friendly.
“There’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ in the swamp,” Wyatt confirmed.
Now he knew the reason the guards went to the Huracan Club. They wanted to hear the news, the gossip going around.
“Just go to one of the local bars and you’ll hear every kind of story you’ll ever want to hear about what goes on in the bayous and swamps,” Wyatt said with a small, almost friendly grin. Unlike the guards, he was cloak and dagger.
“We can tell some stories. Funny thin’ is, most of them are true.” He could be just as chatty as the next man. “We’ve got the Rougarou. That’s a beast, a shapeshifter. Our own neighbors can be accused of bein’ the Rougarou. We’ve got moans and screams and all sorts of strange noises. I’ve been huntin’ the swamps my entire life and I’ve seen some strange thin’s.”
He stared into the dog’s eyes, keeping command of the animal. “My grand-mere may be tough, but I don’ want that animal to bite her. I’d have to kill it, and it’s a good-lookin’ dog. I know you care for the dog, so you’re gettin’ that one warnin’.”
“He won’t bite without provocation or command,” Larry assured.
“Then come on in,” Wyatt said. “Nonny’s in the parlor with her pipe and music. Most nights she smokes on the porch, but once in a while she takes to smokin’ in the parlor and then we know to mind our business. She’s missin’ Grand-pere.”
The smell of Nonny’s pipe tobacco would also mess with the dog’s ability to locate Pepper and Ginger. The aroma of the big pot of jambalaya on the stove and the bread rising beneath the tea towels also helped.
“Nonny.” Wyatt raised his voice above the music. “We have company. The gentleman from Wilson Plastics has come to have a word with you.”
Nonny took the pipe from her mouth and looked at them. Straight. Her eyes steady. Her mouth firm. She reached over casually and turned the music down, but she didn’t turn it off. Nonny would never have a conversation with a neighbor with music playing in the parlor. She would consider that rude. Larry didn’t know it, but he’d just been insulted.
She looked pointedly at the shotgun and then back at Larry. “Mights’ well take a seat, boy,” she said and gestured toward the one closest to her. “Mighty fine dog you have there. I like critters a whole lot better than I do varmints.”
That was another veiled insult Larry didn’t get. There was nothing wrong with Nonny’s mind. She was sharp. Wyatt had to hide a grin and keep himself from kissing his grandmother right there on the spot. She was special, a woman to walk beside a man. He should have known all along that anyone who didn’t see that in his grandmother didn’t belong anywhere near his family. Joy had not been overly fond of Nonny. He’d been such an idiot over Joy, and he owed his grandmother an apology, possibly a much bigger one than Larry did.
Larry’s eyes darted around the room, looking at every detail. This was the parlor Nonny entertained guests in. There was nothing out of place. She’d opened the window behind her as if she blew her tobacco smoke in that direction, but the slight breeze just circulated the spicy scent throughout the room. The dog, instead of alerting, dropped down to Larry’s feet and put his head on his paws. Larry relaxed visibly.
They’re spreading out and moving around the house, Ezekiel said. Looking for tracks.
I went out this morning, Malichai reminded. There were a couple of small baby prints and smears of blood. They’re gone.
Thanks, Malichai, Wyatt said.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, striving for casual, his fingers inches from his throwing knives – and he was very accurate with a knife.