He just looked at her.
“Right. We’re here—and we’re stuck.” Surreal rubbed her hands over her face to get rid of the lingering feeling. Then she sighed. “And we should accept this as part of a performance.” A glance at the children, who were hovering on the other side of the gate and seemed to be rethinking the wisdom of approaching two of the Blood. But once she and Rainier reached the house, it was a fair bet that the children would come through the gate to get a closer look. After all, this place was probably irresistible to their maggot-filled little minds.
As she and Rainier walked up to the covered entryway, she listened for the squeals. Landen or not, those children weren’t going to shrug off getting a face full of cobwebs.
“Well, that’s a bite in the ass,” Rainier said, looking back when they reached the steps. “Damn illusion stopped us cold, and they didn’t even notice.”
“Maybe that says more about landen housekeeping than about the illusion,” Surreal replied before giving her attention to the man who had lit the lanterns and now appeared to be waiting for them.
“A good evening to the Lady and gentleman,” the man said. “Or a frightful, fearsome evening if you’re not careful. Strange things go on in this house.” A hard look at the children who were now standing close enough to hear him. “Yes, strange things.”
Nervous giggles from the girls in the group.
"If we really want to scare them, we shouldn’t bother with this spooky-house stuff," Surreal said on a psychic thread, tipping her head to indicate the children. "We should just throw a couple of them into the kitchen at SaDiablo Hall."
"While Mrs. Beale is in there?" Rainier asked. "That’s vicious."
"I know."
“And who might you be?” Rainier asked, looking at the man.
“The resident caretaker,” the man replied. “And a resident ghost.”
“Ghost?” Surreal asked.
The man nodded. “One of them who was enslaved to serve the ruler of the house.”
“The Blood—” She bit back the words. This was Jaenelle and Marian’s performance. If they wanted landen children to think the Blood kept enslaved ghosts as servants…
Maybe this version of the Blood was going to be harder to swallow than she’d imagined.
"A ghost is one of the demon-dead whose power has faded to the point where there is still a shape without substance," Rainier said. "What possible use would one be as a servant?"
"Apparently they can light lamps," Surreal replied. "Although you would think they could just stand out of the way and glow."
"I don’t think they can do that. And even if they could,he isn’t glowing."
She wasn’t even inside yet and the place was already scraping on her nerves and temper. The sooner they fulfilled their obligation and could leave, the better she’d like it. “Has anyone else arrived?” she asked the caretaker.
“No, Lady,” he replied. “You and the gentleman are the first.”
“What time is it?” she asked Rainier.
He called in a watch, opened the cover, and held it in the light for her to read.
Somewhere in the house, a gong sounded.
“What’s that?” Surreal asked.
The caretaker shrugged. “Nothing that concerns the likes of me.”
Rainier closed the watch and vanished it.
The gong sounded again.
Some kind of clock? Frowning, Surreal stared at the street. Where in the name of Hell were Lucivar and Daemon?
“Well, shall we go in?” Surreal asked Rainier.
“Oh, best to wait for the whole party,” the caretaker replied.
“Won’t be as much fun if there’s just the two of you.”
Since she wasn’t expecting to have fun, that wasn’t an incentive to wait.
“How many were you expecting?” Rainier asked.
“Only twelve people per tour,” the caretaker said.
“Twelve people were invited?” Surreal asked.
The caretaker shrugged. “Was told only twelve to a tour.”
They stood outside, waiting. To give herself something to do, Surreal pictured a straw dummy of Falonar—and thought she deserved a lot of credit for picturing a straw dummy. Then she pictured herself throwing lovely, shiny knives at the target.
The third time she got to one hundred, she huffed out a sigh.
Rainier must have taken that as his cue to do something.
“What about them?” Rainier asked, tipping his head to indicate the children.
"No," Surreal said. "I don’t want to be responsible for them. I’m not a Sceltie who enjoys herding idiot sheep."
"Tomorrow they could come here on their own, so by letting them come with us tonight, we’re nothing more than token escorts," Rainier replied. When she hesitated, he added, "Do you want to be done with this family obligation or not?"
Putthat way…"Yeah. All right. Fine."
“How about if seven of them come on the tour with us?” Rainier asked the caretaker. “That would make nine in the house and enough places left open so the others can join us when they arrive.”
The caretaker shrugged.
"I guess ghosts are as good with providing information as you are with adding," Surreal told Rainier. "When Sadi and Yaslana arrive, that will make eleven, not twelve."
"I was assuming the High Lord was also invited."
"Mother Night, I hope not."
A flash of amusement along the psychic thread, but Rainier kept a straight face as he turned toward the children. “All right, then. The seven oldest of you may come with us.”
The next few minutes were filled with arguing, bartering, and negotiating.
Rainier said, "I thought this would be the simplest way, since the younger ones will be able to come on another night."
Surreal studied the group of children as if she were at an aristo party. "Nothing is going to be simple. You’ve got a dominant c**k and a bitch who’s the dominant female among this group. But not all the children here follow those two, so c**k and bitch are trying to ignore your age requirement in favor of having their followers tour the house with them."
Rainier didn’t respond to her assessment directly, but his sharp whistle got the children’s attention. Within moments, Rainier had eliminated the younger children, selected the six oldest—three boys and three girls—and was about to toss a coin to decide between the two remaining children when Surreal gave him a psychic tap on the shoulder.