Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Abi
“It’s finished!” I gushed, looking down at the binder I’d created with parental affection.
“What is it?” Beckett asked from the doorway of my office, startling me.
I took a quick peek at the clock to confirm it was 4:53 p.m., so he wasn’t going to start hounding me about my hours.
Yet. “It’s my house management binder,” I explained.
“It’s got a master list of all the maintenance—yearly and seasonally—the house and appliances need, a list of all the professionals and companies used for said services, and a copy of my monthly calendar that details the current month’s appointments. ”
I flipped the binder open to show him as I talked.
“Very impressive,” Beckett said.
“Thank you!”
“It’s particularly impressive you were able to create it given you previously worked in accounting.”
“I had experience. I made a binder like this for the two dogs I nannied for—I had to make sure I took them to their groomer every six weeks, and kept up with their training sessions, pool time appointments, and so on.” I paused in the middle of flipping a page.
“That reminds me, do you need me to manage any other personal appointments besides your blood deliveries?”
Beckett furrowed his brow. “Like what?”
“Hair cut appointments, spa appointments, and—I’m taking a wild guess here—appointments with fae for your fancy glamour. That kind of thing.” I ticked off the ideas on my fingers, then flashed him a smile.
Beckett tilted his head—a gesture that made him more intimidating but I recognized it as a teasing/playful gesture. “Are you treating me like the dogs you nannied?”
“I have to draw my ideas from somewhere.”
Beckett scoffed, and I was sure he was about to lay a good retort on me, but we were interrupted by the front doorbell ringing, the sound echoing down the hallway.
I frowned. “I don’t know who that could be. Shannon, Jonas, and Christopher finished hours ago, and the lawn guys didn’t come today.”
“We could pretend we’re not at home,” Beckett suggested.
The doorbell rang again.
“What if it’s an emergency?”
“Then we’ll die without the annoyance of having answered the door,” Beckett dryly said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll get it.”
“I’m not available,” Beckett advised as he followed me out of my office and down the hallway.
“Got it,” I said when he branched off, slipping into the library, leaving me to answer the door alone.
I rolled my shoulders back, then pulled the door open. For a moment I thought it was a prank and no one was there, until my gaze was drawn downwards by a quiet “Ahem.”
Standing on the front stoop was a crowd of either dwarves, or a type of fae—I wasn’t versed enough to tell the difference.
Coming up about waist high on me, but with slender and lithe frames, the dwarves/fae all had slightly tapered ears, rounder noses, and polite smiles on their faces.
About half of the males had trimmed beards, and a handful of the female dwarves/fae had wild colored hair like lilac or aqua, but both genders’ hair was thick, plentiful, and beautifully combed.
All but one of the dwarves/fae wore stylish tunics or trousers matched with a puffy sleeved shirt and a vest. The odd one out of the bunch stood in the front of the group, clothed in a blue shirt, a pointed red cap, and brown trousers.
Despite his young face he had a huge white beard, and he reminded me of the gnome statues my mom liked to put in my parents’ front yard.
“Good afternoon,” said one of the fae/dwarves. (I was leaning more towards a subtype of fae now that I’d had a proper look at them; their frames were too slender for dwarves.)
I turned around and shouted into the house. “Beckett!”
The vampire emerged from the shadows of the hallway, scowling. “I told you to say I wasn’t available.”
“Yeah, but this is beyond my paygrade.” I stepped aside so Beckett could see his visitors.
Beckett grumbled in something that sounded like old English but was so imaginative Shakespeare himself would have been envious. “Gnomes,” he finally said.
So they are fae!
“The Liege, Kinge.” The gnome who’d greeted me went down on his knee, bowing his head at Beckett.
I was willing to bet this guy was their leader as he’d been the one to greet me, even though he stood behind the young gnome. He had russet brown hair, a large beard, and a jolly smile that lessened under Beckett’s gaze.
Beckett frowned, and his left eyebrow twitched with irritation. “We’ve been over this, Stewart. I am not the leader of this area.”
“You are by far the strongest supernatural for miles around,” The gnome, Stewart, raised his head to argue. “You are more than the liege of this land, you are the protector.”
“I am definitely not.” Beckett sharply said. “Let me remind you I am still in hiding from the humans.”
Judging this issue was squarely a supernatural topic, I started to edge away from the door.
“That doesn’t take away from your robust strength and vigor!” Stewart argued. “The fright you cause at the merest mention of your name has kept us safe even among the turmoil of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts’ never ending fights. You are legendary!”
“Practically a boogie man,” added the lawn-statue-esque gnome before he yanked his beard off to scratch his cheek and then released it, revealing his facial hair was held in place with an elastic band.
“As usual your descriptions are uncomfortable at best.” Beckett caught me by the belt loop of my khaki pants and held me captive so I couldn’t sneak away.
“What’s the deal? This is a supernatural thing, why do I need to be here?” I whispered.
“You need to memorize their faces so you know to warn me if you ever see any of them near my property again,” Beckett said.
“But this is definitely a you problem.”
Beckett ignored me and turned his attention back to the gnomes. “Stop fawning and tell me what you want, Stewart.”
Steward planted his hand over his heart. “I am not fawning, sir. I am merely saying the truth—”
“Stewart.” Beckett’s voice sounded a touch darker, warning the gnome his patience was fraying.
Stewart cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him. “Yes. Well. Because you are so magnificent and your infamy has kept us safe for so long, in light of recent events we wish to remind you of our loyalty to you and give you a gift.”
Stewart nudged the lawn-statue dressed gnome closer to us.
The gnome giggled nervously and waved at us. “Hello!”
Beckett stared blankly at the gnomes.
Stewart looked from the ‘gift’ to Beckett several times. Once concluding Beckett wasn’t going to say anything, he started a clearly rehearsed speech. “I’m so glad you asked ‘how is Bobby a gift?’! We are sending him to you to help you,” Stewart said.
“I thought you said I was a sacrifice,” the lawn-statue gnome, Bobby, said.
“Quiet!” Stewart hissed at him.
“Is Bobby a trained carpenter, or a whiz-secretary or something?” I asked.
“No,” Stewart said.
“Then how is he supposed to help Beckett? Because, as the house manager, please allow me to assure you the greatest emergency in his life is that this mansion is always teetering on the edge of an emergency.” I said.
The gnomes whispered to one another, their eyes flicking back and forth between me and Beckett.
I glanced up at Beckett. “Did I accidentally insult them or something?”
“No,” Beckett dryly said. “Don’t mind it.”
I scowled—clearly Beckett knew what I’d done. Must have been a supernatural cultural thing.
“Bobby is to serve the liege should he need… refreshment,” Stewart carefully said.
I furrowed my brow, trying to read between the lines and figure out what the gnome leader meant.
“I’m emergency rations!” Bobby announced brightly.
My eyes bulged. “You’re what?”
“Since I’m the biggest of us gnomes, I have the most blood, and should the liege need a snack, I’ll have more to give!” Bobby brightly continued.
Beckett sighed, a long, dragged out sound of irritation. “We’ve been over this before. I don’t require blood donors.”
“He’s not a blood donor, he’s a tithe—a thank you for keeping our area safe,” Stewart said.
“Whatever you call him, the answer is no,” Beckett said.
“But this is the one way in which we can support you, Liege,” Stewart said, wheedling. Behind him, the other gnomes vigorously nodded their heads.
“Stop calling me Liege,” Beckett snapped.
“Is that an actual thing?” I asked. “I didn’t know supernaturals had a monarchy system in place.”
“We don’t,” Beckett said.
“But it is a given that the most powerful supernatural in the area is considered the go-to powers that be for local issues,” Stewart piped in. “We just call him the liege because of his royal name.”
“Whatever the problem is, take it to the wolves,” Beckett said. “They’ll handle it.”
“But you have Magiford contacts, Liege,” Stewart protested.
“I am also not a public member of supernatural society,” Beckett said.
“So this sacrifice,” I started.
“Yes?” Bobby brightly said, adjusting his pointed hat.
“Does… presenting Bobby mean there’s a problem you need help with?” I asked.
Stewart nodded his head. “Indeed, indeed!”
“Don’t—” Beckett started, too late.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
Beckett growled deep in his throat, which I took to mean I shouldn’t have asked that.
Stewart bowed again. “I am gratified you asked, Kinge’s lady.”
“Oh, I’m not his lady. Just his house manager,” I said.
Stewart ignored me and plunged on. “We are filled with fear, for there has been an attack on a human in the city of Algoma that seems supernatural in nature.”
“We already heard about that. Daphne from the Ahnapee River Pack told us about the lady who had been attacked a while ago,” I said, slowly replying as I wondered when Beckett and I had become we.
“Yes, there has been a second attack,” Stewart said. “Several days ago, in the early morning, another human woman was found scratched up and passed out near the Crescent Beach Boardwalk.”
A prickly feeling traveled up and down my spine. “Do you know the victim’s name?”