One Fell Sweep

“I might.”

“I’d like that.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

I smiled, put the phone away, went down the hallway, and knocked on the Hiru’s door.

“Enter,” a quiet voice said.

The door opened and I stepped inside. The Hiru stood in the pool. The water came up to his neck.

“We are having a dinner. I know you don’t consume our food, but I came to invite you for company.”

“It is kind of you, but my appearance makes others uncomfortable.”

He knew. “They will adjust.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then I won’t pressure you. On Earth, we show our friendship by sharing our food. Your presence isn’t a burden. We are happy to have you with us. If you change your mind, you are welcome to join us.”

“Thank you.”

I felt Sean cross the boundary, went to meet him, and led him to the table. He decided on a chair across from me. Everyone took their seats, including Orro. It had taken a few meals for Caldenia and me to convince him that we preferred he joined us at meals rather than hanging back in the kitchen by himself to observe us devour the results of his culinary wizardry. He finally condescended to make a distinction between casual and formal meals.

The feast was unbelievably delicious. Loaves of freshly-baked bread fought for space with smoked chicken and brisket so tender, it fell apart under the pressure of a fork. Big bowls offered refreshing salads, the first made with cucumber, tomato, avocado, and green onions, flavored by a delicious mix of oil and vinegar, and the second with cranberries, spinach, and some sort of honey dressing that turned me into a complete glutton.

Midway through the meal, the Hiru stepped outside. He didn’t sit at the table, but I pulled a massive wicker chair out of storage and he rested nearby. He said nothing. He just watched as we talked, laughed, and reached for our food. It was still better than waiting alone in a dark room.

“If I eat another bite, I’ll die,” Tony declared and promptly ate more brisket.

Sean, who’d been watching him like a hawk through most of the meal, finally cracked a smile.

“I’m done!” Helen announced.

“May I be excused?” Maud corrected.

“I may be excused,” Helen recited.

Maud opened her mouth and changed her mind. “Yes, you may.”

She grabbed the spinball from under the table and launched it onto the lawn. Beast shot out from under the table as if fired out of a small Shih Tzu cannon. The Hiru watched them dash around the lawn.

The inn chimed. Someone had crossed the boundary. Three someones, two from the east and one from the south.

I pushed with my magic. All around the lawn, the inn’s roots shivered just barely below the surface, waiting.

The southern intruder meandered up my driveway, taking his time. His two friends glided silently, moving along the edge of the inn’s grounds toward the lawn where Helen was playing. They were good. I should’ve seen them from this spot, but the property appeared completely empty. Judging by the pattern of their movement, they must’ve approached and then gone to ground.

Sean looked at me, his eyes dark. He either heard them or smelled them. I shook my head very slightly.

“Please excuse me.”

I picked up my broom, went to the front door, and flicked my fingers. A screen slid from the wall showing a human-shaped creature walking up the driveway, dressed in a long black trench coat. It flared as he strode forward. Rows of belts secured his sleeves. His hood was up, and pale hair, almost white, spilled from it.

Interesting. I hadn’t felt a guest quite like this before.

I opened the front door, leaving the screen door closed, leaned on my broom, and waited.

He didn’t walk, he glided like a graceful dancer, light on his feet.

Not a good sign.

The inn chimed in my head. The screen split, showing two shadowy figures, one lying flat on the grass and the other crouching behind a tree. Each carried a weapon, which the inn’s scan highlighted with white. Long barrel and curved stock. They carried needle rifles. A single shot from a needle would paralyze and sometimes kill, if the target’s weight was low enough. A needle wouldn’t penetrate the Hiru’s metal. The rifles were for us.

The intruder reached me. The house hid him from the street. He lowered his hood. In poor light, you could mistake him for a human. A beautiful, angelic human. His skin was an even golden tone and looked soft, like velvet. His hair, pure white, without a trace of gray or blond, streamed from his head, its ends tipped with black. His eyebrows were white too, thick, feathery, the ends touched with coal black. Large eyes looked at me from under the brows, the irises turquoise and full of inner fire, like two aquamarines. Glowing silver lines marked his forehead, curving in a complex pattern, embedded in his skin. His nose with a prominent bridge lacked curves over individual nostrils. Straight and triangular, it widened at the end into a semblance of a beak. An arrogant slash of a mouth and a human-looking jaw with a contour so crisp, it could’ve been carved out of stone, completed his face.

If you bumped into him in a club or saw him walking after dark, badly lit by the street lamps, you’d think, “What a handsome man.” But he was standing only feet away, brightly lit by the late afternoon sunshine. That perfect skin wasn’t bare epithelium, but a pelt of very short and dense down. What appeared to be hair at first glance was a mass of thin, fine feathers. A Draziri. One of the higher caste, too, judging by the rank on his forehead.