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Earl blinked. “Stayed?”

“Behind.”

Earl nodded as though the bombshell she’d just dropped made perfect sense. “Bound to happen. He wasn’t going to stay forever. He belongs in Azlandia, Truly.”

“But not you,” she whispered, worried he planned to leave too.

“Now, I’m what you’d call a long hauler. Never plan on leaving.” Patting the crown of her head, Earl offered awkward, but well-intentioned support. “Let Rosy go, girl. Be happy for him and be on about your business. Getting on with it — best medicine around.”

“Right.” Sound advice. Now all she needed to do was make herself believe it. “Now, about you slaving away in the kitchen.”

He huffed. “We back to that?”

“Leave him be, princess.” Footfalls silent, Westvane brushed by her on his way to the kitchen. “He wants to feed you? Let him.”

“Well, now.” Crooked teeth flashed through his bristly beard as, multiple feet pitter-pattering, Earl grinned, then scurried out Westvane’s way. “Good to see you back.”

Westvane grunted. “Got a monster to catch.”

“About that,” Earl said, turning serious eyes on her. “Gotta bring you up to speed. Some things are happening in the city.”

Oh, boy. Here she went again, jetting head-first into crazy. “What things?”

“Bad mojo, girl, bad mojo.”

Dipping his head beneath the lintel, Westvane disappeared into the kitchen. His disembodied voice rolled out into the hall. “Tell us while we eat, Earl.”

“Good, good. Understood.” Raising the spatula, Earl sliced the utensil through the air like an expert swordsman, then wheeled his lower half around and creepy-crawled after Westvane. “Come on, girl. Time’s a-wasting. You got a meal to eat, then places to go.”

Truly sighed.

Her life just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Not that she balked at the promise of food. She was hungry, and a delicious smell wafted through the air. Earl had been up to good things in her absence. And despite her not wanting to take advantage of him, she admitted having Earl around wouldn’t be a hardship. She liked him. He liked to cook, which meant (much as it pained her) Westvane was right.

No sense arguing the point.

She’d lose.

Earl would win, and she’d end up right back where she started… standing in a gorgeous kitchen, inside a house that belonged to her, wondering what Earl had to report, and what kind of trouble Westvane planned to toss her into next.

43

UNSAVORY SKILLS

Thick branches creaked above her head as Truly trailed Westvane down a deserted street. He strode right down the middle, boot soles quiet against a single yellow line. She chose a different tack, sticking to the sidewalk, obeying traffic laws, even though she planned to break a much bigger one in short order.

Truly thought about educating Westvane about the rule of law.

She didn’t bother.

Dusk had fallen, deep shadows along with it. No one was around or out for a late evening stroll. The houses along the one-way street sat snug in landscaped yards, the people inside settled for the evening. Every once in while she caught movement behind diamond-paned windows. A light would go on, others would go off. Big leafy trees kept the peace, marching along the sidewalk, blocking the view, acting like a bulwark against the outside world. Even if someone looked out a window, no one would see him.

Or what she was about to do.

Scanning the street, she evaluated the vehicles parked curbside.

“No way I’m stealing a car from here,” she mumbled, mostly to herself.