Chapter 17
“This meeting will now come to order… BELLEND.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Emergencies do not respect schedules, Bas.”
“They should.”
Binky ignored him with the dignity of someone deeply committed to leadership, despite overwhelming opposition. Which, frankly, was most days.
Perched atop an overturned barrel in the loft of the Ferret’s Mott, Binky surveyed the gathered familiars with all the seriousness of a wartime general, or at least he would have, had Grundlepus not been loudly snoring beside the small log burner that had recently been installed.
“This is a disgrace, ARSE,” Binky muttered. Grundlepus opened one eye, narrowed it a little, then closed it again, clearly unmoved by the political crisis currently unfolding.
Bas lounged across the table, tail flicking lazily as he cleaned one paw. “I still think this is stupid,” he said.
Binky puffed his feathers irritably. “It is not stupid. It is procedural… TWAT.”
“There are no procedures.”
“There are now.”
“You made them up this morning.”
“That’s how rules begin.”
Bas rolled his eyes so dramatically, it was honestly impressive.
Around them, the pub carried on as normal. Glasses clinked. Someone near the dartboard was being loudly accused of cheating. The smell of ale and fried food lingered heavily in the air.
Normal.
Which was deeply inconsiderate considering Binky was currently managing a full-scale constitutional crisis.
“Point one,” Binky announced. “Edith is now human-ish.”
“Still a shifter,” Bas countered immediately.
“Human adjacent.”
“She literally breathes fire.”
“Occasionally.”
“She bit Denzel the other week.”
“That was justified.”
Denzel, seated nearby on the back of a chair, gave a small nod without looking around.
Binky waved a wing impatiently. “The point remains, she now possesses knees and therefore no longer fits within the structural parameters of the clubhouse.”
Bas narrowed his eyes. “You just don’t want to rebuild the entrance.”
“That is not the issue.”
“It’s absolutely the issue.”
Binky fluffed up indignantly. “I refuse to be attacked during official proceedings.”
“Then stop making stupid rulings.”
“I am protecting tradition!”
“You invented the tradition twelve minutes ago!”
Grundlepus snored louder, clearly exhausted by the intellectual strain in the room.
Binky turned toward him desperately. “Grundlepus, thoughts?”
Grundlepus cracked one eye open. He looked at Binky, then at Bas, then at the ceiling before he deliberately yawned, stretched, and went right back to sleep.
“Compelling, WANKA,” Binky muttered.
Honestly. No support anywhere.
Bas flicked his tail again. “She should still be a member,” he said, more seriously now. “She’s still Edith.”
Binky hesitated briefly because he wasn’t wrong, and that was the problem. She was still Edith, still grumpy in the mornings, and still muttered insults under her breath when she thought no one could hear.
She was simply still Edith, just… taller and alarmingly human-shaped.
Binky sighed heavily. “I know… ARSEHOLE,” he admitted quietly.
Bas’s ears twitched slightly. “Then stop being weird about it.”
“I am not being weird about it.”
“You held a meeting.”
“This is governance. ARSEHOLE.”
“This is a hostage situation.”
Before Binky could respond, movement near the bar caught his attention, or rather caught Denzel’s. The parrot had gone very still. Even for a ghost it was unusual.
But Binky noticed Denzel remained perched exactly where he was, body angled casually toward the room, but his new singular silver feather twitched once. Binky followed his gaze.
Identical males at first glance, dressed in black, matching the description Edith had given.
The bounty hunters sat near the far side of the pub, drinks untouched for the moment as the dark-haired one, the grumpier brother, argued quietly about something.
The other one… the still and observant one. He wasn’t speaking much, just listening. Something about him set Binky’s feathers on edge.
“They’re trouble,” Bas muttered quietly, following his gaze now too. Only as Binky’s gaze skirted around the pub, it came to rest elsewhere. This time his instincts, or what was left of them, started screaming. Across the pub, half-hidden in shadow near the back booths, another figure sat alone.
Watching the twins. Gold eyes glinted briefly in the dim light, unnaturally bright and predatory. Binky stilled as he looked from one to the other like he was at a tennis match.
“Oh,” he murmured.
Bas followed his gaze and immediately flattened his ears.
“Well,” he muttered. “That seems ominous.”
And still Grundlepus snored on.