Chapter Fourteen
In Which Things Start Moving Fast
But determination alone did not count as a plan. Tasia wracked her brains and still couldn’t come up with a way to stop all of Grandmother’s thugs with only two people, even if one of those people could become a vicious wolf at will. Her frustration was further compounded by Pagona and her cronies.
The hint of slush-producing heat had retreated, and snow began piling in earnest. Pagona and Chara fussed and whined in tandem, though about different things.
If Tasia hadn’t been tearing her hair out trying to stop an evil conspiracy, she might have laughed at the similarities between the three-year-old and eighteen-year-old sisters.
Chara would have been happy to play in the snow until her fingers were blue, but her mother wouldn’t let her until the mud was thoroughly inaccessible.
Pagona shared her disappointment (loudly) with the world because the snow wasn’t deep enough for snowshoes yet, and as such, her friends couldn’t visit.
A mere two days later, Bunny, Nomiki, and Claudia invaded the Galanis home again.
Tasia wasn’t the only one feeling out of sorts.
She was antsy because there was no sign of Prince Frank, the girls being in the house meant she couldn’t go out to meet with Mitch, and they still didn’t have anything resembling a real plan.
She didn’t know what Bunny’s problem was, but the younger girl was meaner than normal.
Claudia suffered from more insults than usual and several tricks that Bunny hardly bothered to disguise. Nomiki was subjected to a fierce denunciation of her entire family, and even Pagona was shut down when Bunny tired of her sycophantic attempts to bully Tasia.
It took two days of that behavior before Pagona grew a spine and informed her friend that she wasn’t going to put up with that sort of treatment. Nomiki rallied behind her. Claudia clearly wanted to add her voice, but months (or years) of being conditioned to just take it held her back.
Bunny rose to the occasion magnificently. Tasia had seen less convincing actors on the professional stage. Though Bunny displayed contrition and remorse—with tears, even—that the other girls ate up, Tasia didn’t believe it. No one cried genuine tears without a stuffy nose and red eyes.
Somehow, Bunny turned the accusation to her advantage.
She confessed that she had been feeling off lately.
Maybe it was the change of weather or the growing darkness.
Or maybe it was because she was feeling so much pressure about her father’s famous cider.
It was the first year she had been allowed to help with the process, you know.
Those were the magic words. The other girls fell all over themselves to reassure Bunny that the cider would be perfect and of course they forgave her. How could they not? They’d been friends from the cradle. Friends only wanted the best for you.
Tasia thought that Claudia looked a little incredulous with that last sentiment. Good. Maybe the poor girl would see that the others were not her friends. Then Tasia was distracted by Chara’s attempt to get outside.
The toddler had the back door open and both her bare feet in the snow before Tasia caught her.
As she lifted the giggling girl into her arms, she saw a flash of movement by the tree where she met Mitch.
She turned Chara toward the door and peered back.
It was Mitch. With a quick nod, she let him know she’d be there as soon as possible.
Bunny and her comforters were too occupied to notice what Chara and Tasia were doing. Tasia set the little one on the bed to dry her cold and wet toes. She then promised to get a big bowl of snow for Chara to play with inside.
Chara squealed her assent, and Tasia tried to figure out what towels were available for the mess that was coming. She slipped out the back door, armed with a mixing bowl and eager to talk to Mitch.
“Hi!” She could tell her smile was a bit too enthusiastic, but she didn’t want to tone it down. Being with Mitch made her happy.
His return smile was a little crooked and did funny things to her insides.
“Hi yourself.” A shadow crossed his eyes. “I finally made it to the cellar under the dance hall.”
A chill that had nothing to do with the snow surrounding them crept into Tasia’s limbs. Her smile fell away. “How bad is it?”
“All four walls are lined with barrels and other containers that are filled to the brim with things like oil and black powder.”
“Black powder?” Where had Tasia heard that phrase before?
“It’s explosive,” Mitch filled in. “Used in mining operations, signal flares, fireworks.”
“Explosive is bad.” A shiver shook her whole body.
“Better get inside . . . with your bowl?”
A giggle escaped her when he looked at her empty bowl with obvious confusion. “I’m collecting snow for Chara to play with inside.” The befuddlement deepened, and Tasia laughed again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She faintly heard his “Count on it” as she hurried back toward the house and scooped up a sizable load of snowflakes on the way.
Two days before the dance, the snow stopped and the skies cleared.
Men worked in teams with horses and boards to clear paths.
The mounds of snow on the sides were quite deep in places and froze rock-hard overnight, but until more snow fell, the villagers could get from place to place without much difficulty.
The day of the dance dawned crisp and cloud-free.
Tasia didn’t know if the ice would help put out any fire traps Mitch had missed.
He had been diligent, but slow by necessity, in dismantling the containers of fire-starter and accelerant around the village.
He hadn’t been able to return to the cellar after that first time because there was always someone around preparing for the dance.
It seemed the decorations and other details were going to be much more elaborate than the harvest dance. Which made sense when Tasia thought about it. Diomland celebrated the new year with a substantial show of cheer, too.
Tasia knew the Galanises wouldn’t believe her, but she couldn’t help trying to warn them away from the dance.
She waffled back and forth for several days because she didn’t want to tip off the informant.
The chances that any of them were the traitor were slim, but Pagona and Anthi would have delighted in sharing her “folly” far and wide.
Grandmother would, of course, catch wind and change her plans. Or come after her personally.
At the last moment, Tasia tentatively suggested that maybe the Galanises should stay home that evening.
“Are you joking?!” Pagona flipped her hair over one shoulder and stared at her cousin.
“The weather could change suddenly.” Tasia shrugged.
Anthi looked up from the goodies she was loading into Stavros’ arms. “I have been baking treats for three days, dear.” Her expression was full of pity. “I’m not staying home.”
The patriarch deigned to make eye contact with the relative he endured because she brought in coin and cooked his meals. “You can stay home.”
Even before the next words left her mouth, Tasia knew they were the wrong ones, “But what if something bad happens—”
“Ha!” Pagona set her hands on her hips and sneered. “The only ‘bad thing’ that might happen is you getting snubbed by everyone. Again. And that’s only bad for you.”
There was no recovering from that. Tasia watched as the family headed for the door.
With Stavros at the helm, they were actually leaving a good bit before the dance started.
The sun still flirted with the edge of the mountain that was just visible through the trees.
He and his wife were loaded with parcels, so Pagona had to take charge of her little sister.
She grabbed Chara’s hand in a death grip and kept gabbing about how good the cider was going to be this year because Bunny had helped.
The door shut, cutting off the explanation that everyone had already heard ad nauseum about how Bunny’s family only serves it at this dance.
Not disappointed to miss out on that recitation, Tasia huffed a derisive laugh.
Then she wrung her hands when the anxiety about the evening hit her with full force.
She still didn’t know what they were supposed to do to save everybody.
But she did know that standing around definitely wasn’t it.
Taking one more second to wallow in the sensation of helplessness, she gave herself a shake.
Then she marched over to the hooks by the door and donned her red cloak. It was time to end this. Somehow . . .
Halfway down the path to meet Mitch at their usual spot, she slipped on a patch of ice.
The small-ish frying pan she had tied around her waist swung out, then returned to land against her thigh in a painful manner.
That and her puny knife were her only means of personal defense.
But the forming bruise didn’t distract her for long.
She hurried the rest of the way to Mitch.
The sight of him, strong and capable, calmed her. The relief made her knees wobble for a second.
“Any trouble with the Galanises?” Mitch asked, scanning their surroundings.
She flicked her wrist. “They think I’m staying home to avoid censure.”
He glanced at her with one eyebrow raised, then continued taking stock of the trees and underbrush.
A smile grew on her lips at his unwillingness to entertain that silliness. “I didn’t say that. They came to their own conclusions.”
“Right.” He finished his study of the woods and snagged both her hands. “I want you to head to the dance hall—”
“What about you?”
He completed his thought, “—and find a way to lock the cellar door. A sturdy branch should do it for the outer doors. They’re on the north side of the building.”
Tasia blinked at him.
Humor shone in his eyes, but he clarified. “It’s the side opposite of the front doors.”