Four and Twenty Blackbirds (Eden Moore 1)

"No one's sitting around here duck-style, Lu," I insisted, but I barely heard her admonition. I was almost certain there was someone lurking behind my car. I'd only seen him for an instant, but that moment was enough to reveal a tallish woman or a shortish man in a long, dark-colored coat. A head and hunkered neck rose barely above my trunk. He or she (he, I suspected) was checking my license plate.

"I've gotta go," I said, letting the phone fall from the side of my face and dropping it into the receiver. I let the curtain slip back into place and twisted the dead bolt.

Inside my overnight bag I kept a marble-handled knife with a blade too long to be legal in most states. It wasn't a utility knife like the serrated folding blade I'd taken with me to Pine Breeze, but it looked mighty intimidating all the same and it was weighted more nicely for holding. An old friend gave it to me as a birthday present, and I took it with me nearly everywhere, so I guess I did have a lucky charm of sorts, before Brian handed me the gris-gris.

I always kept the thing razor sharp and shiny, and when I was feeling like a more nervous soul, I kept it on my belt. I unfastened the latch to my pants and slid the holster onto the black leather belt I wore mostly for decoration, then buckled myself tight again. I un-snapped the sheath's guard and let the knife ride free, ready to be whipped into action if such was called for.

I ducked low beneath the window and lifted the curtain enough to peek back out at the lot. The shady form was nowhere in sight, but, then again, I didn't think it cared to be. Maintaining my crouched position, I reached for the lock and, as quietly as possible, I released it. I grasped the handle and pulled it down slowly, waiting for the click.

With a yank and a shove, I opened

the door, still nearly on my knees.

Nothing.

No one jumped inside, no one reached for my throat.

Nothing.

I craned my head around the corner. No one. I stood, knife now in hand, hand discreetly hidden halfway behind my back. I braced my feet apart and let the doorway frame me, wide open and vulnerable . . . sort of. The knife's handle was warming under my fingers. I opened and closed my knuckles around it, clenching for the best grip.

"Hello?" My breath was steady, though my pulse came hard. "Whoever you are, get the hell away from my car. "

No one answered.

I might have gone on, following up the order with a threat or two, but just then a large black sedan turned into the parking lot. It crept over the yellow speed bumps that hazarded the asphalt, signaled with a flashing left blinker, and pulled into the empty space next to the Death Nugget. I held a hand up to shield my eyes from its blazing headlights. I'd almost decided to retreat to the comfort of my room when the lights switched off and the back right door opened.

Eliza Dufresne emerged, short and crooked, from the shiny black vehicle. Harry offered me a shy half wave from the driver's seat, but he cut the engine and remained where he was.

"Girl," Tatie addressed me. "Girl, I want to talk to you. "

"Go on. " I made a show of sheathing the long blade at my left side. Her eyes widened a touch, but she didn't ask about it.

"I want you to come on back to the house with me. "

"Do you, now?" I smirked and leaned against the frame, neither in welcome nor in refusal. "When'd you get bit by the hospitality bug?"

"Girl, I think it'd be a good idea if you did. I don't think you're safe here. Come on back to the big house with us. "

She couldn't be serious. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take my chances here. "

I do believe Tatie wanted to stomp her little feet in rage, but she bit it back. "Girl," she said it as a growl this time, "you come on back with me now. I can let you have one of the big old guest rooms. There's plenty of space for you. "

"As I said, ma'am, thank you, but no. I'm already settled in here, and I'm not of a mind to leave. "

"Dammit, girl, you come on!"

"No. " I liked this game. This was fun.

"And why not? I'm offering you family privileges, an' here you are being an ingrate. "

I couldn't hold my smile back any longer. "At least I'm not trying to milk you for your money like the rest of them mixed-breed illegitimates who want family privileges. Thank you kindly, Tatie, but I'm staying here. "

Her wrinkly arms folded together, pulling a cable-knit sweater more tightly around her shoulders. "How come?"

"How come?" I repeated after her, still laughing on the inside with disbelief at the absurdity of it all. To be tactful, or not to be tactful? I went with the latter. "Because I don't trust you. No offense intended. "

She nodded as if we'd reached some minor understanding, and it was good. "None taken. But since we're speaking plain, tell me why not. "