Chapter Fifteen
Which Starts With Déjà Vu
“Ah! There you are!” The loud voice that greeted Mitch was attached to a richly dressed arm that wrapped around her protector’s shoulders and pulled him inside.
That must be Barone, Tasia thought while waiting to pass through the door. Waiting felt impossible, so she only counted to ten before entering.
It was hard to tell with all the movement, but Tasia thought there were more people in attendance than at the harvest dance.
She sidled into the room and tripped over a wooden wedge, then began scanning the space for a door she hadn’t noticed before.
After two unfruitful passes, her gaze snagged on Mitch.
The poor man was being held captive by the mayor.
Mitch raised his eyebrows at her, then tilted his head to the left.
She followed his direction and finally spied a robust potted plant that was blocking a doorway.
Squinting a little, she wondered how to lock the door without a key. If it even had a lock. Then she recalled the tripping hazard and stooped to pocket the wedge. Nobody would need to prop open the front doors tonight.
As she made her way through the crowd, whispers began following her.
“Red? That’s a bold choice.”
“Unfortunate, rather. It clashes terribly with her hair.”
Tasia let the foolish comments roll off her back. She had more important things to attend.
It was a simple matter, all things considered, to drop the door prop behind the potted plant and use her foot to wedge it in place.
A glance at Mitch showed that he had seen her accomplish the task.
She returned his half smile with a full one of her own, then switched her focus to the refreshment room.
It made the most sense for the cider to be served from there.
Before she finished working her way through the crush of villagers, the musicians played an attention-getting trill. An older man, who looked too similar to Bunny to be anyone but her father, stepped onto a chair and announced that it was time for cider.
The beverage was passed out in a rapid, orderly manner that Tasia admired for its efficiency even as she inwardly panicked. The villagers knew what they were doing. Her only consolation was that nobody seemed to be drinking yet.
“Here you go, Tasia.” Bunny appeared out of nowhere with a glass that Tasia accepted automatically. “Our cider may not be able to make you village, but maybe it can sweeten your temperament.”
The mean girl smirked, then twirled away. Tasia sniffed at the drink but couldn’t smell anything besides the sharp tang of apple. When she shot a look at Mitch, he was still being held in place by the mayor’s arm, but he didn’t have a cup.
All too soon, everyone in the room had a glass of cider, including most of the little ones.
Bunny’s father made a grandiose toast about the new year and other things that Tasia didn’t listen to as she scrambled for a way to stop him.
When the villagers raised their glasses, she followed suit and almost took a drink.
The rim against her lip brought her back to the present. She faked a sip and searched for Bunny.
Some folks, especially the youngsters, chugged their beverages.
Others savored the experience. Nothing happened to either type of drinker in the first minute, and Tasia began second-guessing everything.
She had been so sure that the cider was the source of the filemu, but maybe her failure to interrupt the toast wasn’t a problem, after all.
Then Bunny tipped her cup out into a vessel behind her back. If Tasia hadn’t been used to seeing the girl do sneaky things, she would have missed it. Feeling vindicated, she looked for Bunny’s father. He was nursing his drink, but she saw him take several swallows.
He must not be in on the plot, she mused as she continued scanning the room.
When the musicians finished their glasses, they started up the music again.
Laughter and conversation returned to full volume.
Only the side room with the smallest children seemed different.
As Tasia peered into the space, several of them started yawning and rubbing their eyes.
The adults in the archway began helping the little ones find soft places to rest. Tasia thought she spotted Chara in the pile of pillows at one point.
A growing certainty told her that it was the filemu. The smallest amongst them were affected first. It seemed their initial reaction was to fall asleep.
Indecision froze her. They needed to stall until the army could arrive.
But it was too late to protect everyone from the drug, and the thugs had already been locked in the cellar.
She didn’t know what to do beyond keeping watch over the helpless villagers.
Maybe that was good enough. It didn’t feel good enough.
A few minutes later, the only people awake in the children’s room were the adults and the infants too young for cider.
The room next door with the oldest citizens was also showing signs of being drugged.
Tasia couldn’t hear the snoring, but she could see the effect one woman’s sleep-wheeze was having on the nearby feathers of another dozing woman’s antiquated headdress.
All around the dance floor, eyelids were lowering and discussions were slowing or stopping altogether.
Bunny began circulating the room, encouraging people to keep dancing or playing music or whatever.
The noise level dropped, adding an eeriness to the stilted movements of the glassy-eyed attendees.
Mitch claimed that Tasia was smart. But she didn’t know what to do and had never felt stupider in her life. Why couldn’t she think when it mattered most?!
Grandmother, in all her evil glory, chose then to make her entrance. Her appearance was relatively dramatic, as the door was flung open before her. But it was wasted on the somnolent villagers. Dino stood at her back, staring dully.
A loud sigh pulled Tasia’s gaze away from the slaver.
Bunny was twirling her hair and making eyes at Dino.
That explained the girl’s willingness to play traitor, even to the point of betraying her father.
The dangerous thug didn’t react when his eyes slid over Bunny, and Tasia almost felt pity for the young woman. Almost.
Grandmother took a moment to survey her soon-to-be domain. Tasia noticed that she no longer bothered with the cane. Her straight back and shrewd expression erased years. She now looked closer to sixty than ninety.
Mitch had not thrown Barone across the room. A feat that took great effort on his part.
For some reason, the mayor felt the need to keep a physical hold of his “guard.” With the other man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, Mitch couldn’t ditch his employer to help Tasia. After she blocked the door to the cellar, he wasn’t sure how to help, but he wanted to be by her side regardless.
In the end, things happened too quickly for him to respond. Cider was passed out—to everyone but him—and the villagers started reacting to the filemu that Mitch now understood was in the drink. That must have been what Tasia had realized as they were rushing over.
Barone didn’t seem like the type to be in on the slave scheme, but Mitch decided to ask anyway when he saw how the others were affected. He theorized that the suggestibility of the filemu should apply to revealing secrets, as well.
“Hey, Barone,” Mitch drawled. “Know anything about this slavery plot? Or Grandmother?”
The mayor’s frown would have been comical in another scenario. He shook his head and dragged out his words. “No. No, slavery is bad. Grandmother is bad, too.” He swung his head around to face Mitch, invading his space. “She lives too close to . . . him.”
Mitch was pretty sure that “him” was the big guy in the next town over who had a problem with Barone.
The mayor proved very amenable to spilling his guts and also admitted that he had messed up, big-time. “Now he wants me to pay it back. But I don’t have that money anymore!”
Mitch grunted.
“He’s going to come for retribution, I just know it! Maybe even during this dance.” Barone patted Mitch’s chest. “That’s why I have to keep you close. Verrrrrry close. He should be satisfied if you die protecting me. He likes death.”
Mitch’s opinion of the man sank even lower. He peeled off the offending hand and parked his former employer in a corner.
Mitch was making his way around the edge of the room when Granny entered with a bang.
People continued to mill about or dance, so he ducked his head and aimed for Tasia.
While passing one of the large windows and blocking the interior light reflecting on the glass, he thought he saw movement in the trees.
It was too much to hope that the soldiers were here already, so he erred on the side of caution and assumed that Granny had brought more thugs with her.
Three windows lay between him and Tasia when Granny came to a decision and pulled out her feeble-old-lady routine. She immediately hunched and clung to the giant escorting her. He helped her over to the senior citizen corral and into a chair.
Mitch paused. He preferred to be a man of action in a crisis, but he didn’t know what his action should be here. Technically, Granny and her pet thug weren’t doing anything wrong. And the villagers had already been drugged. There was nothing to stop.
Deciding his best course was to protect Tasia, he completed the stealthy journey to her side. Tasia seized his hand for a moment, then followed him toward the densest bit of crowd within range. They did their best to blend in.
“What is she waiting for?” Tasia whispered in his ear.
He looked down and frowned at her red cape. She didn’t object when he untied the ribbon at her neck and slid it off her shoulders. When he looked for somewhere to stash the distinctive article, she helpfully pointed under a small table near the edge of the room.