Free Wicked Bronze Ambition: A Garrett, P.I., Novel by Glen Cook Page B

exactly what I was thinking.” Since his stake in the matter was his daughter, not Kip. He was about to tell me something when Tara Chayne beckoned.
    Time for him to go be Constance’s boy instead of Kevans’s dad.
    I stood around looking dull and feeling like a dim candle, watching my friends stuff their faces and fill their pockets. Staffers and servers pretended not to notice.
    They would stock up on leftovers themselves, later, if there were any.
    All afternoon, despite all else, either Morley Dotes, Penny, or Pular Singe was somewhere close by, in case I began to demonstrate erratic behavior. Singe and Penny were fiercely uncomfortable in this venue.
    I felt plenty of out-of-place myself.
    Pockets full, my friends began to move on once the rain slackened.
    I considered heading for Macunado Street myself, come the end of the day. I could just run back to my old life. There would be less pain in my old familiar places. Barate could go back to the mansion he’d had to leave a year ago. Plus, at the old place I could have my business partner manage, reshape, or even suppress the emotions threatening to destabilize me now.
    I shunned considering the broader situation, instead investing my time in feeling sorry for myself.
    Barate returned. “Time to talk to the dragon.”
    “Huh?”
    “She wants to see you.”
    I pulled a face.
    “It’s probably not what you think. She probably wants to ask you not to sell this place because of the family history here. Strafa was born here. So was Kevans.”
    “Sell it? How could I do that?”
    “We made it over to you and Strafa after you announced the engagement.”
    I gulped some raw air and chewed. For somebody in my racket that flashed a big ugly red flag. Motive. A mansion high on the Hill, where the heavyweights live, is worth more than I can imagine. And my imagination has fiddled some seriously big numbers.
    “But . . .” I might have heard someone tell me the place was mine without having listened. I was not attentive to the exterior world lately.
    “Strafa didn’t tell you?”
    “She did not.”
    “That’s my little girl. Probably didn’t consider it worth mentioning.”
    Probably. Strafa never had much interest in wealth. Her wants were never large. She never encountered a situation where she couldn’t just buy whatever she wanted.
    I oozed into the library. Shadowslinger shifted her bulk, turned her massive face my way, smiled hungrily.
    Barate said, “Mother feels that it is time to get to work. As soon as your guests leave.” Hint, hint.
    “I’ll deal with that.”

22
    The overworked staff, while polite, did nothing to encourage anyone to linger. Only Winger and Saucerhead Tharpe were still underfoot and still eating. Neither Penny, Singe, nor Morley quite counted as guests.
    I told Singe, “Go if you want. It’s going to get boring now.” Her brother had left long ago, unable to stand the company of so many humans.
    “I do not want. This is family. I will be here for the planning and there for the kill.”
    I glanced at Penny. As the priestess of a cult now numbering just one, she was tough and fierce. As a girly girl she was timid. She had her angry fangs out right now. “I’m not going home by myself.”
    No need to look at Morley. He would become my shadow.
    Winger and Saucerhead, stomachs and pockets bulging, finally took the hint. Strafa’s kitchen and household staff, Race and Dex, saw them off. Those old boys were a couple. I found them creepy but not because of their orientation. They made me think of zombies.
    “You’ll find those two quite frugal,” Barate told me as I returned to the library, indirectly suggesting that they be kept on the payroll. They might be third cousins, or something.
    “You want this all back? I’ll do a quit claim.”
    “This is you and Strafa now.”
    The fat lady nodded.
    The Algardas were the weirdest family I’d ever encountered, the full details not germane. And I was a made member of the