One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(55)

“They should,” Maud said.

We looked at the tank some more. Nothing moved. The Assembly had a lot of resources at its disposal. Some innkeepers specialized in research, and their inns had state of the art labs. And of course, there were ad-hal. When innkeeper children grew up, they had three paths open to them. A lot of us left the planet and became Travelers, bumming around the great beyond. Of those who stayed, some gave up on the innkeeper life altogether and rejoined human society, leading normal lives. But if you wanted to remain in our world, you could become an innkeeper by inheriting the inn from your parents or, very rarely, being transferred to a new inn. Or you became an ad-hal. An ancient word for secret, the ad-hal served as the Assembly’s, and by extension, the Galactic Senate’s, enforcers on Earth. My power was tied to the inn. The power of an ad-hal came from within them. When things went bad, terribly, catastrophically bad, an ad-hal would come and deal with it. The ad-hal knew no mercy. They would assess the situation and deliver the punishment. Seeing one was never a good sign.

Maybe the Assembly would send an ad-hal to retrieve Michael’s body.

“I will stand vigil for his soul tonight,” Maud said.

“I killed him.”

“No, you freed him. You need your strength,” she said. “He deserves a vigil.”

“Okay.”

Minutes crept past.

Maud finally spoke. “How are things between you and Sean?”

“Fine.”

“Aha. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Because I’m right here.”

“Maud…” I started, but caught myself.

“That’s my name. Don’t be afraid, you won’t wear it out.”

“You have just been through… a lot of things. You buried your husband. I don’t want to dump my romantic problems on you.”

“I never thought you would find someone who was in,” Maud said.

“In?”

“In our world. In our little innkeeper circle. I always thought that you would go off and have a normal life with someone, I don’t know, someone named Phil.”

“Phil?” I blinked.

“Yes. He would be an accountant or a lawyer. You would have a perfectly normal marriage and perfectly normal children. Your biggest worry would be making sure the other PTA moms didn’t outshine you at faculty appreciation day.”

I blinked. “First, how do you even know about faculty appreciation day? You attended school for what, a year in high school?”

She sighed. “Would you believe me if I told you that vampires have them?”

“What do you bring to a vampire faculty appreciation day?”

“Weapons,” Maud said. “Usually small knives. Ornate and pricey.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No. There is a lot of etiquette involved in deciding the exact value of a knife to bring… Okay, yes, I’m pulling your leg. Snacks. You bring snacks to a vampire faculty appreciation day. And extra school supplies are very much appreciated. I don’t care how advanced your civilization is, children still want to draw on the rocks with colored chalk.”

“Why did you think I would go off and marry someone normal?”

“Because you were so whiny before I left.”

I stared at her.

“You were,” Maud said. “It was all me, me, me. Oh I am so put upon that I have to live in this magic house and nobody understands. You didn’t want anything to do with the inn. Making you do chores was like pulling teeth. All you wanted to do was leave the inn and hang out with your high school friends.”

“I was barely eighteen. And they weren’t friends; they were frenemies.”

Maud grinned. “I always thought I would end up being an innkeeper.”

“I always thought you’d be an ad-hal.” I smiled, but I wasn’t joking. She would’ve made an excellent ad-hal.

“You think I’m ruthless enough.”

“Mhm. You have ruthlessness to spare.”

She sighed. “Instead, I’m the widow of a dishonored knight, while you have an inn and are trying to date a complicated homicidal werewolf.”

“You could get your own inn.” It wouldn’t be easy, but Maud never quit because things were a challenge.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s in the cards, Dina. I’m proud of you and of everything you did to get this far, but it’s not for me. I was Melizard’s wife for six years. I’m good at fighting. I’ve learned to be good at political maneuvering. If you give me a battlefield or a ballroom filled with people who want to slit my throat, I know what to do. But sitting in the inn, trying to juggle the needs of a dozen guests, with all of them wanting something at once, while keeping the whole thing a secret from the outside world isn’t in me. It’s going into a fight with your arms tied.”

My heart sank. “Does this mean you won’t stay with me here, at Gertrude Hunt?”

“It means I don’t want my own inn. I’ll stay with you, Dina. As long as you will have me here.”

“Good. Because otherwise I’d have to kick your ass.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Mom and Dad disappeared, and you came to me, and I was too wrapped up in my own problems. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Emotion trembled in her voice.