One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(16)

The trees shivered, greeting me. Magic pulsed from me through the house to the very edges of the property and the house creaked, reconnecting. If Gertrude Hunt were a cat, it would’ve arched its back and rubbed against my feet, purring.

Still standing. Nothing out of place. I took a mental tally of the beings inside. Caldenia, Orro, Beast, and the nameless cat. Everyone is present and accounted for. Oh phew. Phew.

Maud bent over, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. “I hate those things.”

Next to her Arland stood straight, like an immovable mountain of vampire awesomeness immune to silly things like nausea. Sadly for him, my sister completely ignored him and his iron stomach. She shook her head, probably trying to shake the last echoes of the summoning gate out, straightened, and saw Gertrude Hunt.

“Dina, this is lovely.”

Helen gaped at the orchard.

The back door burst open and Beast exploded onto the lawn, black and white fur flying.

Helen’s eyes went wide and she hid behind Maud. Beast jumped into my arms, licked my face, wiggled free, and dashed around in a circle, unable to contain her canine glee.

“It’s a dog,” Maud said. “Remember the pictures?”

“Her name is Beast,” I told her. “She’s nice. If you make friends, she will guard you and keep you safe.”

The ground by me parted and my robe surfaced, the plain gray one. The inn was trying to make sure I didn’t leave again. I picked it up and slipped it on over my clothes. See? It’s okay. I’m home.

“Your face is different,” Helen said, looking up at me.

“It’s because she’s an innkeeper,” Maud said. “This house is magic and she rules it. She is very powerful within the inn.”

“You’re part innkeeper, too,” I told her. “Does it make you feel a little funny being here?”

Helen nodded.

“That’s because you’re my niece. The inn will listen to you, if you’re kind to it.”

Helen turned and hid her face in Maud’s jeans.

“Too much,” my sister said and ruffled her hair. “It’s okay, little flower. It will be okay. We’re home.”

Sean was walking away with his bags.

“Sean,” I called.

He turned around and kept walking backward.

“Come have breakfast with us.”

“When?”

“At seven.” Orro always served breakfast at seven. The least I could do was feed Sean.

“I’ll be there.”

He turned around and kept walking. He never told me what he left behind.

I watched him stride away for another breath and turned to Gertrude Hunt. The back door opened.

“Gertrude Hunt welcomes you, Lord Arland,” I said. “Please follow me to your rooms.”

*

Maud crossed her arms and examined the bedroom. The floor and walls were a pale cream stone. A shaggy rug, a deep comforting brown with reddish streaks, stretched by the bed. A large floor-to-ceiling window opened onto the orchard. Lamps of frosted glass shaped like inverted tulips dotted the walls. A plain bed protruded from the wall, furnished with white linens and fluffy pillows.

Maud’s bedroom in our parents’ inn was a dark place, filled with books, weapons, and oddities we all collected either from excursions to Baha-char or from regulars who occasionally brought us gifts. Dad used to joke that Maud never grew out of the cave phase. The bedroom she just made could’ve belonged in any of the vampire castles. She did add some human touches to it - the lines were softer and less geometric - but overall, if we had large delegations of vampires coming in, I’d make her fix up their quarters.

“Told you,” I said. “Like riding a bicycle.”

She frowned. “I’m rusty.”

She was a little rusty. It took her nearly half an hour to figure out what she wanted and when she pushed the inn to do it, it moved sluggishly. Maud wasn’t one hundred percent connecting to Gertrude Hunt. That was okay. It would come with time.

“Mama?” Helen stuck her head through the doorway. “I made my room.”

I’d formed adjoining rooms for them.

“I can’t wait. Let me see.” Maud hurried over.

I followed and stopped in the doorway. Helen had made a pond. The entire room was lined with stone and filled with about a foot of water. A stone pathway led to the middle of the pond, where a large simulated tree bent to form a crescent shaped structure, a backward C. A small bed rested in the lower curve of the crescent, black sheets, black pillows, and a fuzzy pink blanket. Small, narrow windows punctured the dark walls, showing a glimpse of the orchard on all three sides. Helen must’ve wanted to see the orchard on every side, so she bent physics without realizing it. Dad always said that it was much easier to teach a child to be an innkeeper than an adult, because a child had no preconceived notions about what was possible. She’d kept the windows small, though. Trees were still a little scary.

“I can’t make the fishes.” Helen’s face looked mournful.

“The inn can’t make the fish,” I told her. “But we’ll go out and buy some, okay?”

“Okay.”

Magic chimed in my head. “Time for breakfast.”

I led them down the stairs. In the kitchen Orro dashed about. Helen had already seen him and didn’t bat an eye. For some reason, trees were scary but a seven-foot-tall monster hedgehog with foot-long needles and sharp claws was totally okay.