My mom comes back in with a tray, two glasses, and a crystal bottle of something dark.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Meredith exclaims happily. “Well done, McAbbey. What shall we drink to?”
“To old friends?” my mother smiles.
“To old friends,” Meredith agrees, holding her drink aloft, “and finding lost things.” She spares a little grin at me, and downs her drink.
Camille
Bea sat across the kitchen table from Camille, regarding her seriously. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“You said Gabriel came to Havenwood before,” Camille said. “Tell me.”
“Twice, in my remembrance. The first time was just before the lumbermill burned. He had been discreet then, not making much of an impression, and in truth I barely noticed him until he returned sixteen years later. He made quite the spectacle then - he was doing research on the area, he said, looking for a good site for an exclusive private school. On behalf of the Uminos.”
Camille had thought she was prepared for a surprise, but her jaw dropped. “Working for Umino?”
“We were a poor southern town, and he came in waving money and the prospect of a prestigious institution,” Bea said. “People’s heads were turned. It was exactly the sort of thing local government drools over. He wanted my orchard,” Bea said, grimly. “Offered me ridiculous sums of money. I distrusted his interest and refused to sell family land. We’ve lived here since we crossed the mirror and changed our name, after all. I wasn’t giving it up to some foreigner. In the end, he settled for the closest thing to it. The MacAlisters sold the Umino Corporation the plot of land where the school sits now, and made a mint off it.”
“But why?” Camille asked. “What do the Uminos want?”
“I just don’t know,” Bea admitted. “I’d never heard of them before they came to Havenwood. It’s clear they have an interest in the area - and in bringing fae and ferals here - but I just can’t fathom their purpose. I wasn’t planning on giving them Juliet, but when I saw her...I was just too afraid...”
There was a loud pounding on the door. “Ms. Bea! Ms. Bea!” someone shouted.
She hurried to the door, and there stood Destin, breathing heavily and sweating like he’d run a mile. “The tattoo lady,” he gasped. “She’s at Mac’s house.”
“No,” she said, paling, and snatched up her keys.
Destin explained what had transpired as Bea drove them to Mac’s house. Her hands on the steering wheel were tense.
“That idiot,” Bea moaned. “What does he think he can do? He’s as helpless as Abbey.”
“He sent me to you,” Destin reminded her.
Her mouth set in a grim line, Bea acknowledged, “I suppose. This is a bigger problem than you know. Meredith hasn’t been to Havenwood in sixteen years, and she won’t remember a minute of it. If we knew who her target was, where the Wolf is, we could start to plan - ”
“Um,” Camille said. “Well...”
Bea glanced at her expression in the rear view mirror, horror dawning. She swore. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“You?” Destin exclaimed, leaning away from her involuntarily. A feather escaped his collar and floated to the seat between them.
“Perfect,” Bea grumbled.
She pulled the car into the driveway of a large, attractive two-story brick house with an expansive, carefully groomed yard. “You two stay in the car,” she insisted. “Destin, if anything happens - ” she handed him the keys. “You drive to the school, you get to John Tailor and you tell him - ”
Just then, the front door opened and Mac ran down the steps to meet them. “Come on!” he said excitedly. “It’s ok, I think, but we’re going to need a hand...”
Swiftly, Bea exited the car and followed him into the house. Destin and Camille shared a look and went in after them.
Inside the house, a grungy woman dressed in leather was passed out on an expensive-looking rug, clutching an empty whisky glass.
A short blonde woman - Camille assumed this was Mac’s mother - stood over her. Seeing them enter, she folded her arms and smiled slightly at Bea’s look of shock. “And you said an acting degree was a waste of my time.”
Bea shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. “I take it back, Abbey, I take it all back. What did you do?”
Mrs. Dupree picked up a crystal decanter half-full of dark liquid. “I keep a bottle for special occasions. Even immortals aren’t immune to knockout drops. She might have forgotten the last time she came to town, but I haven’t.” She made a rude sound. “London. I
“She is not going to be happy when she wakes up,” Bea said grimly.
“Please tell me you have a contingency plan, here,” Mrs. Dupree said. She curled an arm each around Mac and Destin and gave them a hug. “That was very clever of you, boys, but remind me to give you a lecture later about talking to strangers.”
Mac looked at his mother in awe. “You’re kind of a genius,” Mac said, like the thought had never occurred to him.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on finding the Ender passed out on your floor, dear,” Bea said. “That’s hard to plan for. But there is a way to contain her for awhile...help me get her into the car.”
Mrs. Dupree gawked. “What?”
“Do as I say, girl, before she wakes up,” Bea snapped. “Do you want to get it right this time?”
Mrs. Dupree’s face pulled harsh. “Yes ma’am,” she said. “Yes ma’am I do.”
Mac
We had to wear oven mitts to drag her out of my house, into Ms. Bea’s car, and then into
Inexplicably, Bea directs us to drag her into the room with all the teacups.
“What, is china her kryptonite?” I say, exasperated.
Bea gives me a withering look and reaches into one of the three bookcases against one wall of the room, twisting a bookend in the shape of a chesspiece. With a rumble, the bookcase recedes into the wall, revealing a set of stairs leading down, and a computer monitor hidden in an alcove.
“Got one more set of stairs in you?” Bea asks, coolly. “We’re running out of time.”
Wiping the astonishment from our faces, Destin and I haul the unconscious immortal down the stone steps, cool, dry air rising up to meet us. Bea stops Camille at the top step, a hand out. “Stay here,” she tells her. “Keep an eye on the monitor for me.”
It’s clear that Camille doesn’t think the monitor needs watching any more than I do, but she almost looks grateful. She had sat as far away from the Ender in the car as she could...she had followed at a distance into the house. I had wondered before if Camille was afraid of anything - and it turns out it’s a five and a half foot alcoholic furnace.
Bea flicks a lightswitch at the base of the stairs, revealing a stone door. She punches a code into a keypad in the wall and it swings open.
“This is some fancy spy stuff, Ms. Bea,” I comment.
“My other car is an Aston Martin,” she says.
I perk up. “Really?”
