But I’d left Mama saddled with a miniature Sprang, and though the Hoogas still stood watch on her doors, I decided I’d better poke my head in and at least make sure Mama and Gertriss hadn’t started wrestling yet.
The Hoogas greeted me with ogre eye-dips, and I managed to ascertain that they’d bashed no heads that day. I listened, didn’t hear screeching, and knocked.
Mama came to the door and peeked through the crack.
“Boy,” she whispered. “I’ve got this lot to sleep. Keep your voice down.”
I slipped inside.
Mama had every candle she owned lit and smoking. The aroma was thick and floral. I gagged and made a face.
Mama handed me a wet rag. “Put this under your nose, else you’ll get sleepy too.”
I shoved it over my mouth. It had no odor, but it did render the candle-scent far less potent.
“Mama?”
“All that yellin’ and screamin’ was upsettin’ my nerves,” she whispered. “Sounded like a war in here. Even got Buttercup riled, and she nearly cut loose with one of them howls of hers. I didn’t have no choice.”
“Who was screaming?”
“That Sprang child. Screaming bloody murder. I ain’t never heard the like, boy.”
“He wasn’t making a sound when I left him here.”
“Well, he got good and loud after you left. Hollerin’ for his daddy. Hollerin’ for his brothers. Hollerin’ as loud as he could and fightin’ and clawin’ for all he was worth.”
“What set him off?”
Mama sighed. “Boy, I just don’t know. I set him down with a bowl of soup-good soup, mind ye-and Gertriss wiped his face off and I put a spoon in his fool Sprang hand. And then he went to screamin’ and fightin’. Had to get a Hooga to snatch him up and put him in a bed.”
“He was out all night. Maybe something he saw scared him out of his wits?”
“Sprangs ain’t born with much in the way of wits. But maybe, boy. I tell you I just don’t know. But something ain’t right with that child.”
“You mean aside from being a Sprang.”
“That’s what I means. I ain’t sure yet. But I’m brewing up a special hex, boy. Something that ought to let me see if’n mine ain’t the only hex riding this here child.”
I forgot and lowered my rag.
“You think the kid is ensorcelled? Mama, what the Hell. He’s just a bumpkin kid.”
Mama pushed my rag back up under my nose.
“I don’t know nothing of the sort. Yet. I’m just sayin’ I think I smells a hex. On a child. I tell you this, boy-if somebody has hexed that there baby I’m goin’ to have their gizzard in a bag, and no mistake.”
“What kind of hex, Mama?”
“I won’t know nothin’ ’til I’m done, boy.”
“When will that be?”
“Not ’til after mornin’.”
I cussed.
“Listen, boy, what else am I supposed to do? I gots a banshee and a hexed devil-child and a headstrong niece all under my roof at once. They was about to tear the walls down. You ain’t here to help.”
“No, I’m out trying to resolve this mess. Which I’ve got a start on.” I showed Mama the papers from the Judiciary. “Going to get them out first thing in the morning.”
Mama muttered. It was neither flattering nor supportive.
“Thanks, Mama. How long can you keep them asleep?”
“The young ’un, all day and all night. Gertriss and Buttercup will be stirrin’ any minute now. You’d best git, unless you want a good earful from your partner about how she ought to be out and about and so forth.”
I stood. Mama glared up at me.
“I’ll be out most of the night. Tell Gertriss not to worry.”
Mama just grunted. I got out of there before anyone awoke and resumed howling bloody murder.
Chapter Eight
I hoofed it back to my office after a conversation with Mr. Bull. I took off my shoes and laid out fresh socks and a shirt. Then I fed Three-leg and enjoyed a two-hour nap. I didn’t waste any time pondering who’d hexed the Sprang’s youngest urchin, or why-the night would hold far more pressing perils, and even those I shoved aside.
So I did manage to doze until Mr. Bull began to pound on my door at the appointed hour.
“I’m up,” I yelled. The pounding ceased, and his shadow fell away from my door.
I rose, gathered up my toiletries and clothes, and headed for the bathhouse. I was breaking Curfew with the rich folks, and it wouldn’t do to appear as anything but well dressed and groomed.
Too, I had another stop to make at Darla’s. I’d be cutting our date short, and she wasn’t going to like that. And I’d be breaking Curfew, and she’d like that less.
But the things I wasn’t going to do or say were going to be regarded as the worst insult of all. I couldn’t help it. There wasn’t going to be time for a long talk, much less time to break the news about my new position in the Corpsemaster’s secret army.
So I bathed in a hurry and bought yellow fireflowers along the way. Then in a fit of desperation I bought a box of fancy chocolates sealed with a red silk ribbon. The cab driver grinned.
“You’ve either done something, or you’re about to do something; which is it?”
“Both,” I replied.
“You should have bought roses.”
I gave him Darla’s address. He took the hint and shut up.
The ride to Darla’s was brief. I spent the time glaring at the fireflowers and thinking the cabbie was right. I was delaying the inevitable, and I knew it, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with any way around it.
Drafted. It didn’t seem real. But the black carriage was waiting, and one day soon it would come for me again, and I might be brought home or I might find myself counting skulls out of boredom with the lads at the Battery.
Darla deserved better.
Then why have you waited? asked a snide little voice. All that time wasted. Now it might be too late.
I shoved the thought aside and cussed. The cab rolled to a halt, and I gathered my flowers and my box of fancy chocolates and clambered out.
Darla popped out of her door while I was fumbling with coins for the driver. She was wearing a high-necked brown top that had flower-shaped brass buttons and new black pants and shoes so shiny I knew they’d never been worn. She was dressed to go out, but she saw the flowers and the candy and her face fell.
Just a bit, only for an instant, but I saw and she saw me see and we wound up standing there on the sidewalk facing each while trying to decide who would speak first.
“For me?”
“For you,” I replied, offering up flowers and candy. “An apology for ruining your evening.”
“You haven’t ruined anything. These are beautiful. But we’re not going out, are we?”
“Sorry. No. Not tonight. I’ve got this client, see, and she expects results, and the only way I can get them is to meet certain people at a certain place at a certain time.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“This certain time is after Curfew.”
“I’m afraid so. No way around it, sweetheart. Some people can’t be negotiated with.”
“Did you try?”
“Darla. Honey. It’s your case I’m working on. I tried seeing old man Lethway during office hours and got tossed into the street. This is the only way.”
She sat on her stoop, her arms still crossed. Her hair tossed about in the evening breeze.
