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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE MEETING STARTED BADLY AND went downhill from there.

Lucinda and Jasper were both waiting when I opened the Zoom room. Three other men’s profiles showed, all of them in suits, all of them strangers.

Jasper had put on weight and his face was red. It wasn’t anger. Jasper was one of those people who turned pale when they were pissed, especially around the mouth. When his lips became bloodless, I knew it was time to compromise, back down, and fight another day.

His flushed face had to be related to his ballooning cheeks. I wondered if he was getting regular health checks.

“Can we get on with this, please?” one of the strangers said. He had a clipped, educated voice. New England, I suspected, and not just for his law degree, which had likely come from Harvard. “Mr. Brooks has gone out of his way to accommodate a flagrant breach of the divorce agreement. Wasting more of his time increases our reluctance to find yet another compromise. How are we to trust that any other agreement will be met?” He lifted his wrist to look at his watch, even though the time had to be displayed somewhere on his screen. He was making A Point. “Mr. Brooks has many demands on his time.”

The man couldn’t even refer to me in the third person. I didn’t figure as a human at all.

I snorted. “Hot date with your playdough, Jasper?” I asked sweetly.

Jasper’s mouth parted and his eyes widened.

“Mr. Brooks is a respected artist and sculptor!” The lawyer was strident.

“And Ms. Crackstone apologizes for her remark,” Lucinda said quickly. “Anna!”

“I apologize,” I said stiffly.

“Jasper?” the lawyer said.

While I waited for Jasper’s response, my gaze fell upon the documents I had arranged on the sofa beside me so I could refer to them if needed. One of them was the divorce agreement. Jasper’s signature was on the top page. I’d watched him sign it.

And the thought occurred to me: That is a thing of Jasper’s. A token. I could use it to send a spell right now. Make him fall asleep, or make him happy and high, so he gives in and this all goes away….

And then, the cold voice of reason. That would be cheating .

I pushed the papers away from me.

Jasper’s gaze shifted to the left and I realized he was reading the chat window. His lawyers were telling him what to say. Coaching him.

“Okay, fine,” Jasper said, and I think he was reacting to the chat. He brushed back his thinning hair. “Whatever it takes to sort this out.”

“Thank you,” Lucinda said earnestly. “Now, about the outstanding tax bill—”

“Yes, we’ve been weighing the matter up,” the suit said, his tone grave. “Mr. Brooks is willing to accept a low aggravation fee. Fifteen percent.”

My blood ran cold. “Wait. What’s an aggravation fee?” I demanded.

My chat window popped up with a message from Lucinda, for my eyes only.

You pay the City’s interest plus 15% of the outstanding bill on top of the bill itself.

An image of Harper standing with her arms crossed, her mouth curled into a cynical sneer, flashed through my mind. Harper’s typical response came out of my mouth. “No fucking way,” I snapped.

Everyone gasped. Even me—in the back of my mind, at least. And part of me was actually grinning. I kept my face expressionless, though. While they were all flopping about, looking for something to say in response, I said, “I have no money to spare, Jasper. Do you get that? I would have paid the bill if I could, but I can barely afford groceries right now.”

“Then maybe you should have stayed in L.A. and looked after the kids, instead of running off to wherever the hell you are now,” Jasper shot back.

This time, my mouth dropped open. I felt a dizzying sense of disbelief that quickly curdled to disgust. “You don’t know where they are…” I said slowly. “Your own kids! You changed your address and didn’t tell Ghaliya about the new one. I thought it was just an oversight, but it wasn’t, was it?”

The red in Jasper’s face grew deeper. He ran his hand over his hair once more. “It’s not like they call…” His voice held a whining tone.

“Just shut up now,” the lawyer snapped loudly, overriding Jasper.

“You’re the father of the year, aren’t you?” I said.

Lucinda didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Anna, let me take it from here.”

I nodded.

The three lawyers were all looking acutely uncomfortable, while Jasper just scowled. Lucinda smiled sweetly at the camera. “Anna has been caring for Ghaliya in New York. Oscar is in Canada with his wife and two children…soon to be three. Oscar and Ghaliya are both adults, but Ghaliya is progressing through a high risk pregnancy that—”

“She’s pregnant ?” Jasper cried. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“We don’t have your contact information,” I said sweetly. “Not the current information.”

“Jasper, please, let me handle this,” the lawyer said with strained patience.

Lucinda went on smoothly. “Ghaliya’s pregnancy is extremely high risk. I’m sure that Mr. Brooks will, with a bit of thought, be able to recall his daughter’s medical diagnosis when she was sixteen.”

I nearly smiled. “…with a bit of thought .” Lucinda wasn’t a great white shark, but she wasn’t stupid, either.

“Anna is taking care of Ghaliya and will be paying all the medical expenses, plus housing both Ghaliya and the child in the future, and helping raise the baby, too. Given the…lopsided responsibilities and the demonstrated care and concern Mr. Brooks has for his children and, presumably, his grandchildren, I believe fair consideration and adjustment should be made to the current agreement.”

The great white shark’s jaw flexed. When he spoke, it sounded like he was chewing glass. “What did you have in mind?”

Lucinda said, “Anna, I don’t need to hold you up any longer. I know you’re busy. Let me sort this out. I’ll get back to you.”

The shark nodded in agreement. “That might be best. Jasper, you can drop out, too. We’ll take it from here.”

“Oh, for…” Jasper said. “You can’t just…just banish me to my room like this.” His churlish tone, though, sounded just like Oscar used to sound when I told him to go and do his homework.

I said brightly and loudly, “Thank you, Lucinda. I appreciate all your help. Call me when you can.”

The suits frowned. Jasper scowled. Lucinda beamed.

I clicked the button to leave the chat and sat back, my heart pounding. I could hear birds outside the window. Voices, from downstairs. The faint buzz of conversation from the bar.

My heart slowed.

Moving stiffly, I shuffled all the legal papers into a pile and returned them to the folder and shut down the laptop. Then, because I was busy, I headed downstairs to prepare dinner.

Dinner was once more the crowded noisy affair it had become lately. I sat at the table, eating a little, and watching Ghaliya. I studied her blue-brown hair, her huge belly, her features that were, everyone told me, just like my own. Every time I looked at her, the bundle of feelings in my middle grew large and stronger, until I was near to bursting with them.

If anyone came near Ghaliya, if they tried to harm her or even hurt her feelings, hell, even if they stepped on her toes, I would kill them and stomp on their remains until they returned to the earth where they belonged.

The thought was fierce and clear. I nearly moaned at the power of it.

That sure, intense feeling stayed with me while I cleaned and prepped for tomorrow. I picked up the bucket of scraps, which was the last chore of the night. My kitchen helpers had all gone. I turned off the lights and headed out to the greenway to drop the scraps for the wild things to find.

This was a task that Frida, via mime and Hirom’s interpretations, had explained to me was essential. I could understand feeding the birds and what beasts stayed active through winter. But it was near summer now, yet Frida insisted that I maintain the custom.

I was starting to understand why. Each day I dropped the scraps on the same bit of old asphalt that had once covered the greenway. Each time, while I banged the bottom of the bucket to loosen the last of the food, I could see from the corner of my eye that more and more birds were waiting in the trees to either side of the old highway. Shuffling in the grass under the trees told me other creatures were also waiting. The squirrels made me laugh. They would cling to their tree trunks and lean way out, holding on with one hand, sniffing, and quivering with eagerness.

The creatures had grown to depend upon my scraps. Frida was right. I couldn’t let them down.

It was near to sunset when I crossed over the greenway just above the crossroad itself, and moved up the shoulder of the old road to the stained section of asphalt where I left the food.

A squirrel chittered at me, as if I was taking too long. “I’m hurrying,” I told it. “I’m tired and the bucket is full. Patience. There’s plenty for everyone.”

It took a few minutes to get the last of the scraps to stop clinging to the bottom of the bucket. While I worked, I listened to the shuffling movements in the trees. Was there more of it than usual? Or were they getting used to me, and no longer bothered to be cautious in their movements?

I liked that idea.

I gave the bucket one last slap, grabbed the handle and stepped onto the greenway, intending to cross it and move into the area behind the back of the hotel, where gravel hardstand fought with weeds for dominance, and the hulking great Dumpster that was the town’s garbage dump was located. The steps up to the back door of the hotel were there, and the kitchen side door was a few paces beyond that.

I looked both ways before I crossed, the habit unbreakable, even though I knew intellectually that nothing passed along this road but some strange folk who used the highway to reach other wild and powerful places.

A traveler was moving up the greenway, coming from the south.

I drew to a halt, my breath catching in delight.

The stag was level with Olivia and Wim’s house, heading for the crossroads. His antlers were huge, complicated things, with many tips that gleamed white in the steadily fading light.

Could it be the same stag who had greeted me in December? This one’s coat was sleek, the winter layer already gone. But the white ruff around his shoulders and throat looked the same.

As he drew closer, I decided that the black eyes studying me were the same.

I put the bucket down and moved into the center of the crossroads to meet him there.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath bathing my chest. Awed, I lifted my hand and stroked his nose. He gave a soft snuffling sound in response.

Then he backed off and for a moment, I was disappointed.

His shoulders dipped. His front hoof came out. The magnificent being lowered his head.

Was he…bowing? To me ?

I gripped my hands together tightly. I didn’t know what to do. “Um. Thank you.” It was woefully inadequate.

The stag straightened and moved forward, brushing past me. I inhaled the scent of wild things, of nature.

I turned to watch him go. But he stopped three steps beyond me and turned his head to look back at me.

It was a message. Loud and clear. But I lacked the ability to translate it.

The stag turned and came back to me. Circled me. Then he moved three paces up the road once more, his solid hooves tapping on the corrugations. He stopped and looked back at me.

“Follow you!” I said, almost laughing in relief. “Got it. Got it.” I moved up behind him. “Okay, I’m following you.”

The deer moved off the road, skirting my abandoned bucket, heading for the open land between the trees and the old, falling down hall. Juda’s grave was there, but so were the trees where the deer had appeared last December. I was certain it was the same stag, now.

I followed him, fully expecting the stag to plunge into the trees and lead me somewhere mysterious.

But when he reached Juda’s grave, he stepped around it carefully.

How did a stag know that a body was there? What sort of advanced thought process was required to carefully avoid the ground where the body rested? That sort of respect for the dead was a purely human thing, wasn’t it?

Or was there a hidden side to animals I was just beginning to learn?

The stag moved around the grave to the earth behind the rough headstone that Hirom had hastily carved.

Juda Malik.

A four hundred pound, four-footed creature carrying a small car’s worth of antlers didn’t exactly spin on one toe. The stag turned in a large circle, while my heart geared up and thudded. It wasn’t doing what I thought it was doing…was it?

He stepped back toward the headstone. Nudged it with his nose. Then he looked at me, soundlessly telling me…something.

I trembled. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

But I suspected. My swirling gut and a portfolio of bad dreams told me exactly what he was trying to tell me.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “It’s…it isn’t respectful to disturb him. Not after we’ve laid him to rest.”

The stag nudged the headstone once more, then lifted his head to study me. To make sure I’d understood. The last of the day’s sunlight burst up behind me—the last flare as the sun slipped below the horizon. The tips of the stag’s antlers blazed as if they were on fire.

“Fire…” I whispered. I sighed. “Very well,” I told the stag. “If you insist.”

The stag stood for a moment, the golden tips pulsing with light. Then he reared back, and leapt forward, heading for the trees. He ran into them and was gone, while dusk settled around me.

I shivered, and not just from the abrupt transition to nighttime. Orrin Stonebrunch stood in the exact center of the crossroads, his massive arms crossed.

He’d seen it all.