I had already done my chores for the morning. I checked the perimeter. The Draziri had tried to punch a hole in my force field during the night, but got nowhere. Then I checked on Sean. He was up but still in his room and I didn’t want to intrude. I was a little abrupt last night and I didn’t know how to get around it, so I avoided him and instead went to spring poor Wing out of lock up.
I had unceremoniously shut him in his room last night. Being a pragmatic creature, he decided to play with his TV and watched various TV shows for half of the night. A marathon of Indiana Jones movies and Cops were apparently his favorites. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. We’d discussed the Draziri and the force field, and then he’d gone to play in the garage. I had a feeling open warfare wasn’t something Wing looked forward to. On a planet populated with massive dinosaurian creatures, the Ku were lower level predators who sought safety in packs. Their culture was rich with many legends of great warriors who single-handedly brought down larger prey, but in reality they were small and they knew it. They followed large predators, picked off injured or weak prey by running it to ground, and fought in large groups. He asked permission to go play in the garage and I left him to it.
I savored my coffee. By the island, Orro was whipping something in a bowl, holding the whisk with his claws. At the kitchen table, Caldenia sipped her first cup of tea, a content smile on her face.
Arland strode into the kitchen. He was in his “Earth mode,” a loose white T-shirt and dark pants. His blond mane was pulled back from his face into a ponytail. He was carrying his blood mace.
“Lady Dina, Your Grace, Orro, good morning all,” Arland said.
Caldenia inclined her head. Orro grunted something.
“Are you going somewhere, Lord Marshal?” I asked.
“I was planning on engaging in some aerobic activity. For my health. I’m on a retreat after all.”
He was going to put on a big display for the Draziri, who were likely watching the back of the inn. Vampire logic at its best: if you can’t directly attack, then strive to intimidate. He was perfectly safe while within the void force field.
“Would it be helpful if I provided some objects to add variety to your exercise?”
I motioned to the inn. A rack of practice weapons surfaced on the lawn, rising from the ground like a mushroom. Maces, axes, swords, and daggers of all shapes and sizes waited in the rack, each weapon made of a tough, rubber-like substance to match the weight and dimensions of the real thing. They wouldn’t cut, but they still hurt. Maud had once chased me with a rubber sword like that because I’d poured Kool-Aid powder into her conditioner. Maud had always been a hair person. She’d put conditioner on and sit outside by the pool for an hour for “deep conditioning.” I’d learned two important things that day: red Kool-Aid doesn’t wash out of hair and rubber swords hurt.
And now Maud had cut off all her beautiful hair.
Arland grinned. “Lady Dina, you go above and beyond as always.”
“My pleasure.” The weapon rack was at least two hundred years old, but the vampire weapons hadn’t changed a great deal, at least from what I could see.
He marched into the yard, set his mace down, grabbed a halberd from the rack, and spun it around.
I turned around and washed my coffee cup.
“He is such a polite boy,” Caldenia said.
Arland was certainly polite, but once you saw him lop off a vampire’s head with one blow, it put the courtesy in a whole new light. “You’re up early, Your Grace.”
“It’s a lovely day and we’re under siege. People are trying to murder us.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
She would think so, wouldn’t she? “They won’t succeed.”
“Of course not, my dear. I intend to ensure they don’t. By the way, just in case one of the corpses happens to land on inn grounds, the Draziri are delicious.”
“Really, Your Grace?”
“Their meat is juicy but bland,” Orro said. “They taste like small fowl and easily take on the flavor profile of the sauce.”
“Have you actually cooked Draziri?”
“Of course!” He drew himself to his full height. “I was a Red Cleaver chef. I have cooked a great many beings!”
Ugh. Forget I asked.
“I never understood why you find the notion of eating sentient creatures so disturbing, Dina,” Caldenia said. “After all, it isn’t cannibalism. There are no health risks, provided the dish is prepared properly.”
I turned to the window. “Wow, look at the sunshine. Isn’t that something?”
Caldenia laughed quietly.
Olasard purred by my feet, arched his back, and rubbed his head on my ankle. I crouched and petted him, scratching behind his ears. He purred louder. His bowl was still full, so it must’ve been actual feline affection.
Helen crept into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost, sat on the floor by my feet, and petted Olasard. He rubbed his face on her. She giggled.
“Is your mom still asleep?”
She nodded. “I’m sneaky.”
“You don’t say.”
“And fierce.” She showed me her fangs.
“Those are sharp fangs.”
She nodded and bit the air.
“Scary,” I told her.