Free The Edge of Dawn by Beverly Jenkins

edge of the birdbath, dip his beak to drink, and fly away. The peace and quiet was a sharp contrast to all she’d been through; she didn’t want to leave. Thinking about Aunt Pearl made Narice realize that Uncle Willie was the only person in her life now with a direct link to her past and to her parents. She turned to ask Saint about his past, when the silence exploded with what sounded like a cannon fire going off in the house, followed by Uncle Willie bellowing, “Cyclops! Get in here! Now!”
    But Saint was already running towards the patio—gun drawn, coat flying behind him. “Hide!” he barked back at Narice.
    He vanished into the house and Narice took off for the far end of the yard. Shaking and scared, she fought the mosquitoes for a hiding place amongst the tall, wide-leafed milkweed. Slapping at the bloodthirsty insects, she huddled and waited.
    After what seemed like an eternity, she saw Saint step out onto the patio. The sunglass covered eyes swept the yard for her. “Narice!” he yelled.
    She heard the anxiety in his voice, but it took her a moment to beat back the insects. “Down here.”
    When she stood, he seemed to visibly relax. “You okay?” he asked walking to meet her.
    â€œI’ve been bitten a million times, but I’m all right. What’s going on?”
    â€œCome on in. Uncle Willie caught some cockroaches.”
    Inside, the two foreign born men seated in the front room on the blue sofa looked scared to death. Narice didn’t blame them; the huge gun Uncle Willie had leveled on them had a barrel large enough for her to crawl in and go to sleep. She’d be scared, too. Only then did she see the dead man on the floor in the foyer. She quickly averted her eyes from the disturbing sight. “What happened?” Narice whispered.
    â€œYou okay, baby girl?”
    â€œYes, Unc.”
    â€œWanted to make sure. These two, well three, came to my door posing as Jehovah’s Witnesses, only they weren’t carrying Bibles.”
    The men’s heads dropped in what appeared to be both embarrassment and shame. “They asked if they could come in for water. I told them no. I went to sit back down and they slit my screen, reached in, and unlocked the door. I calmly pulled Arnold here out of the grandfather clock, and when the first one crossed my threshold, I blew him away. These two I invited in for tea.”
    Narice knew this was a serious matter, but…“The gun is named Arnold ?”
    â€œYeah,” Willie replied with pride. “After the Terminator.” He never took his eyes off of his guests. “Minute I saw it in the catalogue—knew I had to have it. Knew what I was going to name it, too.”
    Narice shook her head and scanned the big gun. “Is that thing even legal?”
    Uncle Willie said, “Cyclops, what do they teach you in the military?”
    Saint didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t ask. Don’t tell, sir.”
    â€œExactly.”
    Narice smiled. “Never mind. What are you going to do with, them?”
    â€œAlready had Cyclops call the cops. My buddies should be here momentarily. In the meantime, Cyclops, search ’em. Let’s see who they are.”
    Saint said, “I think we already know,” but he had the two men stand up one at a time. From the anger in their eyes, it was plain they didn’t like it, but with Arnold still trained on them they had no choice but to cooperate.
    The two men and their dead friend had on them passports verifying that they were indeed from The Majesty’s country of Nagal. Saint also found enough fake ID in their wallets and suit-coat pockets to supply the entire senior class at a local high school. Saint laid the passports in a line on the carpet. While Narice looked on, he produced a camera from the recesses of his magic coat and photographed the faces and information on each one. “Get me an envelope, angel, if