Page 76 of Winter Lost
Dylis was racehorse thin, with sharp cheekbones and skin as white as the snow outside. Her hair was white, too. Long and fine, it was caught up in a simple twist at the nape of her neck. She wore makeup, but it was subtle stuff. Her husband, Andrew, looked like he should be on a horse out on the range. He was tall and had a mobile face, given to sudden changes of expression. I was close enough to see that his eyes were clear blue.
One of the abilities I’d been born with was that I could usually tell what kind of magic a person held.
Mr.and Mrs.Heddar carried fae blood. He wasn’t even half-blood, though without the assist of the Soul Taker’s tinkering—which seemed to be in abeyance just now—I didn’t entirely trust that assessment. Dylis…Dylis felt different. She was fae, full-blooded, even. But there was something wrong with her magic.
The teenage server tried to take a step away from Heddar. He caught her wrist. It was just for an instant, long enough for her to stop trying to leave. When she quit, Heddar released her. Beside me, Adam tensed.
The girl moved her tray so that it was between her and the older man. She had a tight smile on her face, while her whole body told anyone with eyes she was very, very uncomfortable. I couldn’t hear what was being said over the music. Which was, I suppose, the point of having music. I recognized the girl from Elyna’s description as one of the three staff members; I assumed that the other two were in the kitchen.
Of her, Elyna had said:
“Emily’s responsible for cleaning rooms and whatever they need her for. She usually stays at the lodge for her workweek when there is a room available, going home to Libby on her days off. She works here summers and during school breaks and has since she was fourteen or fifteen. She’s seventeen now, will graduate from high school this year, and has been accepted to college at Montana State with scholarships. Pre-med.”
There was a sound out in the lake, and Elyna paused to stare into the mist before going back to her description. “Peter says she’s another quiet one. People like him, though, and he got her talking.”
Andrew Heddar knew he was making the girl uncomfortable and was enjoying it. I would have disliked him even without Elyna’s distaste.
“I know who I hope has the artifact,” I told Adam.
“He needs to leave the children alone,” Adam said. “Pick on someone his own size.”
I’d spoken very quietly, but Adam’s voice was louder than necessary, deliberately pitched to carry over the music. Everyone became aware of us at the same time.
This one’s for you, brother mine, I thought, taking a deep breath. Showtime.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Heddar, all the affable charm gone.
We were the center of everyone’s attention.
Except for Emily. As soon as Heddar was distracted, she made for the kitchens as fast as she could without actually running. I couldn’t tell if she was taking her moment to escape unwanted attention—or if she was going to get help. Maybe both.
At the far table, Peter rose to his feet in a measured movement that spoke to his training. He kept everyone else in his pack—his group, since they weren’t werewolves—seated with a short gesture of his left hand. He didn’t move quickly, but he pushed the chair out of his way in case he had to move. Standing, he wasn’t tall, but that didn’t matter. He owned the ground he stood upon in a way that reminded me of Adam.
I was pretty sure Elyna’s police officer friend was carrying a weapon from the way his right hand strayed a little farther back along his side than was natural. But his real power was in his shrewd, cool eyes and his trained calm. I had no doubt that he was, outside of my husband, the most dominant person in the room.
The hiker pair, Victoria and Able, moved at the same time as Peter stood. Their movement was more subtle. If I hadn’t been on high alert, I might not have noticed how the woman, Victoria, turned so she had a better view of Peter, or maybe Peter’s table—though I knew which way I’d vote on that. While she did that, her brother turned more fully toward Adam and me.
At the table nearest us, Dylis Heddar surged to her feet, accompanied by the crash of her chair.
“I know you,” she declared, her glassy eyes fixed on my husband. “I know who you are.” Her voice was soft, but it cracked on the beginnings of the words and sometimes in between. She sounded like a drug addict, pushing through lethargy with something that seemed like panic—or a very bad actor in a mid-century horror movie that probably featured a guy in a rubber monster costume. Her eyes were an even lighter shade of blue than her husband’s, but equally unusual.
Heddar’s expression sharpened. I could see he was still offended by Adam’s words but was rapidly rethinking his initial reaction. His peripheral vision must have been terrific, because he didn’t look over when he grabbed his wife’s arm with an unkind hand.
“Enough, Dylis.” To Adam he said, “I asked you. Who are you?”
Heddar had tried to assume control of the room and failed. I was pretty sure that at least some of his irritation with his wife was because she was holding the room’s attention without appearing to seek it. And his second attempt wasn’t doing any better than his first.
Dylis jerked her arm in an unsuccessful attempt to free herself. Like her voice, her movement was off, a little convulsive and awkward, the most effort put into the motion at the least efficient time.
“No,” she said breathlessly, still struggling. “No. He’s here to get it. The thing I hear in the walls. He’s here to save us all.”
“Dylis,” Heddar said sharply, his voice louder than the situation called for. “Stop.”
None of the other people in the room looked surprised at her outburst. At Peter’s table, Tammy Vanderstaat started to get up, her face concerned with a hint of anger ascending, eyes locked on Andrew Heddar’s hand. Her father said something in a low voice and she sat back down, but she wasn’t happy about it.
“The music,” Dylis said.
A clue! I thought in my best Inspector Clouseau imitation, caught up in the half-histrionic spell of the woman.