She almost screamed when Bridey spoke.
“Hush, darling, it’s all right. Don’t be scared.”
Kat was too startled to wonder how Bridey knew why she was there and said only, “There are birds.”
“I know. But you mustn’t fear, child.”
“Have you seen them?”
“I hear them. They are the forerunner of darkness, Kat, but light remains in the world.”
Great. Bridey was going off into some kind of delusional fantasy.
“I’ll protect you, I promise,” Bridey went on.
Kat gave her a hug back and said, “I love you, Aunt Bridey. And I’ll protect you.”
And then, at last, Kat slept.
Cal was standing at the back of their house, where the sliding glass doors led out to the porch and a spectacular view of the sea.
“Are they still out there?” Marni asked him.
He nodded.
She came up to him and slipped her arms around him, shivering.
They had a great backyard, perfect for parties. Both were covered now, for winter, but in summer the barbecue was often lit and the in-ground pool was uncovered, and the lawn chairs were full of friends having a good time.
Not tonight.
Tonight the yard was filled with…
Birds.
“Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Cal said, studying them. He didn’t seem afraid, just fascinated.
Marni, however, was unnerved.
“Shouldn’t they have flown south?” she whispered.
“Maybe it’s global warming.”
“Just make sure all the doors are locked and drapes are closed, and please, let’s go to bed and shut them out. They’re creepy.”
He nodded, but he didn’t move. Marni couldn’t stand looking at the birds anymore. She wanted to keep holding him, but she was afraid, so she let go and turned to walk away.
“I’m going to bed,” she told him over her shoulder.
“Sure. Be right there.” He sounded mesmerized.
“I could have died tonight, you know,” she reminded him.
He turned suddenly and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t believe I could have lost you.”
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered.
“Just one more minute,” he said, looking back out to the yard.
She pulled away from him, hurt, and headed for the bedroom. “I’m pretty tired.” She yawned loudly. “I won’t be awake that long.” Maybe the fear of missing out on sex would get him, she thought.
He only nodded absently. Angry now, she went into the bedroom and shut the door loudly, then slipped into her side of the bed, upset that she could hear the sound of wings. She closed her eyes, though, and began to drift.
She suddenly sat bolt upright, shaking off the vision that had invaded her mind as she had started to fall asleep, a vision of a giant black bird, crashing right through the glass and sweeping Cal away.
She shivered, about to jump out of bed, then realized that she must have fallen more deeply asleep than she’d realized, because Cal was lying beside her, sleeping soundly.
He was even snoring.
She snuggled closer to him, and tried to fall asleep again, but she was suddenly angry. Zach was a frigging P.I., and with everything going on, he wanted to go boating.
Screw them all.
Caer was sitting with Sean in the breakfast room, reading a coffee-table book on New England and sipping coffee, while he read the paper. Clara was bustling about, straightening things that didn’t need straightening.
When the phone rang, it was as startling as if a bomb had gone off.
Caer must have jumped, because Sean glanced her way, amused. “Sorry, house phone. Pretty loud, huh?”
He rose and walked over to the little marble table where the old-fashioned telephone sat. “O’Riley,” he said as he picked up the receiver.
For a moment he frowned, and then a smile split his face. “Yes, serious, very serious. I’m sorry to hear that, but let’s hope that at least this will keep anyone from being hurt.”
He hung up, still smiling. “What is it?” Caer asked him.
Clara had frozen and was looking at him expectantly.
“That was Detective Morrissey,” he told them.
“And you’re smiling,” Caer noted.
“They found several jars of those blueberries that had been tampered with. There were three others with ground glass—all of them at the back of the shelf, where they were unlikely to be picked up anytime soon, interestingly. We’re actually lucky that Kat cut herself slicing the pie. Without that, someone could be dead.”
“So—so—” Clara stuttered.
“It means that no one in this house did anything to the blueberries or the pie. They’re investigating now, trying to find out how the jars got on the shelves.”
“I knew it!” Kat said triumphantly from the doorway. “Amanda was just being a troublemaking bitch.”
“Now, Kat,” Sean remonstrated.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Thank you.”
Kat walked over to pour herself a cup of coffee, saying, “I’m sorry your wife is a troublemaking bitch, not that I said it,” she told him flatly.
“Oh dear,” Clara said, and fled toward the kitchen.