night, but you shouldn’t push it if you don’t have to. He’s not exactly keen on the fact that the American expert Shelby brought is also the man she’s sleeping with, if you follow. Says it smacks of trying to impress him with how suitable you are, when you’re clearly not suitable at all.”
“Er,” I said. “What makes me unsuitable?”
Charlotte gave me a look that, while kind, somehow managed to clearly indicate that I was being a fool, and should stop at once. “You’re dating our daughter, and you’re an American. You represent both ‘our little girl is growing up’ and ‘our little girl is having her loyalties divided.’ You were never going to be suitable. Not for a minute.”
“Ah,” I said, blinking.
Charlotte started up the stairs without waiting for any further reply. I followed her.
The stairs led to a hallway, which led in turn to a series of doors. Charlotte stopped in front of one of them, and said, “Guest room, attached toilet, so you should be taken care of. Wireless password is on the bedside table, and I’ll send Raina up with your bags while we debrief Shelly on the situation. You need to take a nap. No matter how much you feel like you’re at top operating condition, you’re wrong. Jet lag plays with your head. Gabby will be back by dinner, so I’ll send someone to wake you then.”
It made sense that they’d want to debrief Shelby without me around—everything that had happened since we had arrived had made sense—but that didn’t mean I needed to like it. I put my hand on the doorknob, looked at her, and asked, “Is it as bad as I think it is? Shelby told me what was going on.”
Charlotte’s laugh was strained and tight, the laugh of a woman who has looked into the abyss only to discover that it is deeper than she could possibly have imagined. “Shelly never had much of an imagination,” she said. “However bad she said it was, she was wrong. It’s worse.”
I sighed. “Of course it is,” I said. “What would be the fun of it being anything else?”
Five
“This is a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let’s try it and see what happens.”
—Jonathan Healy
The guest room of an isolated house in Queensland, Australia, trying to wake up
I HADN’T EXPECTED TO be able to sleep after Charlotte’s dire proclamation, but I had gone into the guest room anyway: it was clear that I wasn’t going to be left anywhere else without a chaperone for the time being, and I wanted to visit the promised toilet sooner rather than later. She had been speaking in the British sense—instead of a commode in the middle of the room, there was a narrow door leading to what my family would have called a “half-bath,” with a toilet, sink, and nothing else. I took care of my business, washed my hands and face, and returned to the main guest room to find my bags propped against the foot of the bed. The roller bag was unzipped, and the mice were nowhere to be seen.
Aeslin mice are small and have limited natural defenses, but they’re also smart, and surprisingly good at surviving, considering the massed forces the world has rallied to kill them off. I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out my laptop, trusting the mice to take care of themselves.
The wireless password was where Charlotte had said it would be, and I got it on the first try. My inbox was a nightmare sea of messages from the zoo, my grandparents, Dee, and people who hadn’t emailed me since I’d left college, but had been prompted by the strange force that works to explode the email of travelers. I tapped out quick messages to the people who needed to know that I had landed safely—my parents, Grandma, Verity—before closing the lid on my computer and setting it aside. My eyes itched. I removed my glasses so I could rub my eyes with the heel of my hand, and somehow that translated to placing my glasses on the bedside table and letting my head drop to the pillow. It wouldn’t hurt
“Er,” I said. “What makes me unsuitable?”
Charlotte gave me a look that, while kind, somehow managed to clearly indicate that I was being a fool, and should stop at once. “You’re dating our daughter, and you’re an American. You represent both ‘our little girl is growing up’ and ‘our little girl is having her loyalties divided.’ You were never going to be suitable. Not for a minute.”
“Ah,” I said, blinking.
Charlotte started up the stairs without waiting for any further reply. I followed her.
The stairs led to a hallway, which led in turn to a series of doors. Charlotte stopped in front of one of them, and said, “Guest room, attached toilet, so you should be taken care of. Wireless password is on the bedside table, and I’ll send Raina up with your bags while we debrief Shelly on the situation. You need to take a nap. No matter how much you feel like you’re at top operating condition, you’re wrong. Jet lag plays with your head. Gabby will be back by dinner, so I’ll send someone to wake you then.”
It made sense that they’d want to debrief Shelby without me around—everything that had happened since we had arrived had made sense—but that didn’t mean I needed to like it. I put my hand on the doorknob, looked at her, and asked, “Is it as bad as I think it is? Shelby told me what was going on.”
Charlotte’s laugh was strained and tight, the laugh of a woman who has looked into the abyss only to discover that it is deeper than she could possibly have imagined. “Shelly never had much of an imagination,” she said. “However bad she said it was, she was wrong. It’s worse.”
I sighed. “Of course it is,” I said. “What would be the fun of it being anything else?”
Five
“This is a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let’s try it and see what happens.”
—Jonathan Healy
The guest room of an isolated house in Queensland, Australia, trying to wake up
I HADN’T EXPECTED TO be able to sleep after Charlotte’s dire proclamation, but I had gone into the guest room anyway: it was clear that I wasn’t going to be left anywhere else without a chaperone for the time being, and I wanted to visit the promised toilet sooner rather than later. She had been speaking in the British sense—instead of a commode in the middle of the room, there was a narrow door leading to what my family would have called a “half-bath,” with a toilet, sink, and nothing else. I took care of my business, washed my hands and face, and returned to the main guest room to find my bags propped against the foot of the bed. The roller bag was unzipped, and the mice were nowhere to be seen.
Aeslin mice are small and have limited natural defenses, but they’re also smart, and surprisingly good at surviving, considering the massed forces the world has rallied to kill them off. I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out my laptop, trusting the mice to take care of themselves.
The wireless password was where Charlotte had said it would be, and I got it on the first try. My inbox was a nightmare sea of messages from the zoo, my grandparents, Dee, and people who hadn’t emailed me since I’d left college, but had been prompted by the strange force that works to explode the email of travelers. I tapped out quick messages to the people who needed to know that I had landed safely—my parents, Grandma, Verity—before closing the lid on my computer and setting it aside. My eyes itched. I removed my glasses so I could rub my eyes with the heel of my hand, and somehow that translated to placing my glasses on the bedside table and letting my head drop to the pillow. It wouldn’t hurt
Similar Books
