Home Improvement: Undead Edition

of azaleas being an issue?”

“I think they’re lovely.”

“Well, of course they are.” The woman took the pen and paper from Chastity’s outstretched hand. “I had to hire a gardener in order to get approval. That woman needs a job, or a hobby, or something.”

Chastity smothered a laugh while the woman signed Mrs. Corrine A. Kostler on the form and held it out.

“You might as well skip the Hinkeys.” Mrs. Kostler pointed toward a red brick colonial that sat kitty-corner from her house. “They do whatever Justine says. Edward files complaints on me right regularly. You just wait until he wants me to sign a form. Ha!”

Wisely, Chastity made a mental note to never anger Mrs. Kostler—and to invite her to tea. Maybe even a human meal. The food humans ate was peculiar, but there were things that Chastity could stomach. The littles would have to eat early, but we could work it out.

“Did you want something else?” Mrs. Kostler prompted.

“No, ma’am.”

The old woman took her glasses off, smiled, and announced, “You’re not half as weird as Justine said you were, girl. I should’ve known. Go talk to the others. Not the Hinkeys, mind, but the Valdezes and the Johanssons are decent enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chastity nodded. She paused. “Thank you.”

“Don’t step in the grass this time. I have a sidewalk for a reason.” Mrs. Kostler scowled. “Bring those children for cookies some afternoon.”

Then she closed the door before Chastity could reply.

Like Mrs. Kostler, the rest of the neighbors seemed friendly. They looked at the signatures on the form, made a few comments—mostly polite small talk, but more than a couple bitter remarks about Justine—and signed. After the fourth house, Chastity figured she might as well keep knocking. More signatures couldn’t hurt her case.

WHEN ALISON ARRIVED at the builder’s office the next day, she was reassured. She had been discreet in her inquiries. Chastity isn’t the only one with a plan. Once she’d narrowed in on the builders in the area with the sort of specialization skills they required, the choice was immediately clear. Damek Vaduva had achieved an odd, almost cultish following for his designs, but he also provided the more traditional building skill she needed. Unfortunately, his reputation for design made it near impossible to get a meeting, so Alison had to persuade the receptionist that she had, in fact, made an appointment but the poor dear had forgotten to enter it into the book.

What Chastity doesn’t know won’t hurt me.

Alison shook her head. “I can reschedule.”

“No, no. It’s my mistake, and Mr. Vaduva had a cancellation earlier, so he’s in. Maybe I told him, but didn’t add it in my book. I’ll go in and tell him,” the young woman murmured. Then she nodded to herself, apparently pleased that she’d resolved the dilemma satisfactorily.

“It’s not a problem if he’s busy, I can reschedule—”

“No, of course not!” The woman stood. “We were having such a lovely chat when you called that I must have forgotten.”

Alison didn’t know how much she could reorder the woman’s mind and Damek’s, so she glanced at the nameplate: DARLENE. Names helped.

“Since you’ve already told Mr. Vaduva I’m here, I will just wait out here for our appointment.” Alison motioned to the overstuffed burgundy leather chair in the corner. “You go on to your lunch, Darlene.”

The receptionist frowned briefly as her mind tried to assimilate the revision of reality that Alison was forcing on her. Then, she nodded, picked up her purse, and came around the front of the desk. “That does make sense, doesn’t it?”

“It’s always lovely to talk to you, Darlene . . . Goodness, it feels funny to call you that whole name after the things we’ve discussed.” Alison leaned close enough that Darlene’s little human heart pitter-pattered like a bunny on speed. “You will tell me if you decide to be more than, well, curious. Won’t you, Dar?”

For a moment, Alison wondered if she’d overtaxed the poor human girl. Judging how much reality alteration they could take was always tricky, and some biases were a bit more deeply seated than others.

Then Darlene tore a piece of paper, scribbled a number on it, and pressed it into Alison’s hand. “Oh, yes! It feels so liberating to even admit it.”

Alison almost laughed in joy. Humans could be so unexpected. A relationship might be a fun way to mainstream. Being a Bori meant that one had a regular need to be needed; most of that need was satisfied by adopting and raising a pair of young Bori the way the sisters had, but there was something very satisfying about being needed in other ways.

She reached out one hand as if to touch Darlene’s cheek. She held it there until the bunny heartbeat went from bunny-on-speed to bunny-on-speed-with-a-crack-chaser. Once Darlene seemed ready to burst with tension, Alison brushed her knuckles over the girl’s face. “Sweetie, you haven’t even started feeling liberated.”

Darlene blinked, but said nothing.

“Go on with you, Dar. I have work to do.” Alison shooed her out the door, admiring the way the girl added an extra sway of her hips.

Definitely worth pondering a relationship.

Once the door was closed, Alison walked over, flicked the lock, and took a moment to herself. Keeping the appearance of a human while exerting influence could be a tricky thing. Utilizing influence made a Bori’s eyes revert to their natural oblong shape which, sadly, tended to attract attention. It also had the strange result of making far too many humans unsettled even when they couldn’t see the Bori’s shifted appearance. For a young Bori, exerting influence precipitated a form shift. Typically, for most older Bori, only the eyes changed, but there was always the chance of a more complete shift—and explaining why there was a wolf or an enormous bird where a human had just stood could be awkward. Alison hadn’t slipped in years, but she did try to adhere to Chastity’s insistence on mainstreaming, enough so that these little sessions were all the more exhilarating for their rarity.

Unnecessary if we just moved home where we belong.

However, the unfortunate truth was that Chastity was right: the littles were growing up in a world where global awareness had changed everything. So few places were truly sequestered, and by the time the littles were on their own, Alison couldn’t imagine how the world would’ve changed.

A century from now, they’ll need to be able to assimilate far more than they would be able to if we stayed away from the humans.

When the sisters were hatched centuries ago, it wasn’t so unpleasantly difficult to nestle away in a village or mountain. By the time they were ready to take mates and have young of their own, the telephone had changed things, but it was the Internet that really was ruining things. Her youngest nestmates would need all the tools she could provide if they were to survive in the future that loomed.

Alison rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and concentrated on making her features both human and attractive. Her eyes hadn’t recolored, but they tingled as they tended to when their shape started reverting to her natural oblong pupils. It would be easier if she could force her eyes to hold a human shape, but unlike Chastity, Alison could master that trick for only a short time. Alison resorted to contacts, which felt unpleasantly tight as her pupils reshaped.

She slipped her cell from her side pocket as it buzzed. A text from the littles read: “Need kibbles.” It was immediately followed by a second text message: “Rave lies. Caught yellow birds at Chassys feeder. No kibble.”

Alison smiled as she texted back: “Bury evidence. Do NOT eat all Chastity’s finches.”