Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Camille had closed up shop a little early and was headed home, and since I’d invited Chase over for dinner in order to better explain what was going on, Iris decided to make a big pot of spaghetti.
While we waited, Camille set the table, and I headed up to my apartment to clean my litter box.
Iris had threatened to dump it on my bed if I didn’t take care of it.
As I sifted it, added new litter, and then clattered down the stairs, carrying the bag. I stopped in the kitchen, grabbed the trash from there, and then headed out. We were still within the city limits where they collected trash, and we didn’t have to go to the landfill.
It was about a five-minute walk to the end of the driveway, so rather than take my Jeep, I decided to just hoof it. As I hurried along the drive, the wind picked up and the snowfall turned into a whirlwind of flakes. I suddenly heard a yowling coming from the forest to my left.
Cromwell!
Dropping the bag, I raced into the tangle, trying to keep from falling on my face.
I followed the yowls and found myself in a small clearing.
In the dying light of the day, I saw Cromwell clinging to a narrow branch about six feet above the ground.
At the base of the fir, there was a shadowed figure, around two feet tall, and even in the dim light, I could see his hat was a dark red, like dried blood.
I couldn’t catch a good view of him, but I didn’t need to see what he looked like to know it was a redcap.
I raced toward the tree, grabbing up a stray branch that had been stripped of its needles.
As I approached, the creature whirled, baring its gleaming teeth at me.
They reminded me of a jack-o-lantern’s teeth, ragged and filed to sharp points.
I brought the branch back and then swept it down at him, clipping the creature across the side.
He went tumbling away, coming up in a low crouch.
Before I could engage him again, he turned tail and scuttled off into the tangle of undergrowth.
I stopped, deciding I didn’t want to chase him into what could well be a trap. I turned back to see Cromwell, eyes wide, clinging to the branch.
“Come on, fella. Come to your friend Delilah,” I whispered, reaching up for him. I moved slowly—even though he knew me, I didn’t want to startle him. He was in a fear-response, and when cats were fearful, they often reacted by lashing out.
But Cromwell hesitated, then slowly began to let go of the branch. I was tall enough that I could lift him from the bough and I brought him to my shoulder, where he clung as though his life depended on it. And truly, given the redcaps, it might.
I carried him out of the woods and, grabbing the bag of kitty litter, turned tail and headed back to the house. I’d lost all desire to finish the errand, and decided I’d drive down later. By the time we reached home, I set Cromwell down near his house.
“Go on, go in,” I said.
But he didn’t want to go, and I realized that he was afraid the redcaps might trap him inside the house.
“How about I move it to the back porch? You can sleep there. I’ll give you a box for your business, and then tomorrow morning I can let you out again?” I really didn’t expect him to take me up on it, but he jumped down and sat waiting. “Really? Okay, let me fix it up for you.”
I carried the cathouse up to the back porch and invited Cromwell in.
Then, I prepared a small box for him and brought his food and water inside.
He quickly began to eat, probably from nervous tension over the redcap encounter, and then crawled inside the house and instantly fell asleep.
He didn’t look hurt, and I didn’t feel like I could inspect him unless he showed signs of being wounded, so I closed the door, locked it, and returned to my sisters.
“Chase here yet?” Camille asked.
“No, but listen…. Did Iris tell you what we were facing yet?” I asked.
Camille nodded. “She did.”
“I found one out there in the woods.”
“What?” Iris said. “Just now?”
“Yeah.” I told them both about the encounter. “Cromwell’s hanging out on the back porch for the night. If I hadn’t come along, he’d have been dinner for that thing.” I glanced around. “Where’s Menolly? She should be up.”
“I’ll go get her—” Camille started to say, but the doorbell rang, interrupting her. “Delilah, can you get it?”
“Sure. I’ll keep Chase out of the kitchen until you wake her up.” Maybe one day we’d trust Chase enough to tell him about the entrance to Menolly’s lair, but not yet.
As Camille swung open the bookcase-door, I headed for the front door. Chase was standing there, holding a grocery bag. I stood back to let him enter.
“Glad you could make it,” I said, motioning for him to come in. “Come into the living room a moment. Iris is finishing up dinner, and she doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s cooking.”
“I can understand that,” he said. “I’m so glad she’s working out for you. When I advertised for someone to help you—the OIA asked me to do so—I wasn’t sure just what qualities I should be looking for. I’ve dealt with a lot of Supes over the years, but Iris is...”
“One of a kind?” I laughed. “She’s perfect. It’s like it was meant to be.” I eyed the detective. I liked him when I thought about it. He made mistakes, but he was trying. And though he was a little more sarcastic than I liked, he probably had reason to be.
“So, you wanted to tell me something?” he asked, tugging on his collar as he looked around. “Is Camille here?”
“Yeah, she’s helping Iris. Menolly’s here too—” I paused as he winced. “Chase, you have to stop letting her get to you.”
“I will…it just takes time. We have a thriving vampire community here, but I’ve never had much to do with them, and they make me nervous.
” He frowned. “There’s a huge schism in the community.
A lot of people still see vampires as wannabe Draculas.
And I know not all of them are like that, but hundreds of years of lore pinning them as dangerous predators is a hard thing to overcome.
When they first came out from the woodwork, it created panic and pandemonium. ”
“The monsters under your bed…” I murmured.
“What?” he asked.
“Something our mother used to say when I was very small. Camille probably remembers it better, but I do remember Mother warning us that, ‘Sometimes, the monsters under your bed are real.’ It terrified me, and for months afterward, I always peeked under my bed before going to sleep.” If I tried, I could bring up vague images of my mother.
Of course, I knew what she looked like thanks to the photographs we had, but remembering her in person was harder.
“She was right,” Chase said. “That’s something I learned early—” he stopped as Camille peeked around the corner.
“Hi Chase, glad you could make it. Dinner’s ready. Come on, you two.”
We followed her into the kitchen. Menolly was there, sitting at the table, and Iris had just set a tray of French bread on it. The tureen filled with spaghetti was in the center, and a salad sat to the side.
“Welcome to our table,” Iris said. She was the perfect hostess. “Delilah, you should have taken his coat.”
I blushed. I wasn’t all that up on proper decorum. I’d never been good at that sort of thing. “I’m sorry, here—give me your coat.”
Chase grinned. “It’s not a problem. I’ll just hang it on the coat rack, if you don’t mind. And here, Iris. I brought wine and, for Menolly, a bottle of blood. It’s supposed to be some of the best,” he added.
Menolly looked startled. “I…thank you. I don’t think I’ve tried that brand,” she said, glancing at the label.
“Here,” Iris said, holding her hand nodded. “Thank you,” she said, taking the wine over to the counter and looking for a corkscrew. “This will pair perfectly with the spaghetti.”
As we settled in to dinner, Chase still looked a little perplexed, but he seemed to be settling down.
He wasn’t married—we knew that much, especially since he was always pursuing Camille—but I didn’t know if he had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or anything else about what he did in his private life.
“So, Chase, what do you do when you’re out of the office?” I asked.
Chase blinked, again looking startled. “Well, I go shooting at the range to keep my skill level up. I read, go to games. I love the Mariners,” he added.
“Mariners?” Camille looked confused. “Do you go out fishing a lot?”
Chase paused for a second, then laughed. “I do like to fish, but no. The Mariners are the name of the Seattle-based baseball team. The Seahawks are our football team. Some evening, I should take you all to a game so you can get an idea of what humans like to do for fun here.”
We dished up our plates with spaghetti.
Chase sniffed. “Smells good, but no garlic?”
The table fell silent. He looked up to catch Menolly staring at him with a frosty look. “Of course, no garlic. I’m sorry—I wasn’t complaining. Really. I just forgot and…” As he stammered to a stop, Menolly let out a snicker.
“Menolly, behave. He brought you blood,” Camille said, a warning note in her voice.
Menolly arched her eyebrows and said, “Relax. I know spaghetti usually involves a fuckton of garlic. I didn’t take offense. But some vampires aren’t as lenient as I am, so you might think about the company you’re in before mentioning garlic.”
“Don’t scold him,” I said. “He’s a grown man.”
“Hey, I am sitting right here,” Chase finally said. “I’m not five years old.”
“No, that you aren’t,” Menolly said. “By the way, this is good,” she said, holding up the bottle he had brought. “Thank you again.” She gave him a fangy smile and winked.
Camille relaxed, and so did Chase. I kept my attention on my plate. I wanted to laugh—Menolly didn’t dislike Chase, but she did enjoy tormenting him. This felt like payback, in a way.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Chase asked.
“After dinner. We don’t want to spoil your appetite,” Camille said.