Clean Sweep
Page 14

"What happened to the hot-plate plan?"
"I did some thinking and one, it won't generate enough heat and two, we need additional fire to cover the stench."
"Aha."
"I checked the fire ordinance and it says all fire pits of this type should be twenty-five feet from any flammable structure. This patio is too close to the house, so I'm going to build you a new one."
I smiled at him and tapped the patio with my broom, sending a pulse of magic through it. The concrete slab rose out of the ground and slid over the grass. I put it about thirty feet out. "Far enough?"
Sean blinked.
"Sean?"
He recovered. "Sure. Saves me some work."
"Do you want help?"
"No, I got it."
"Suit yourself. I'll go make some lemonade then."
I went inside and sat at the bay window. Sean went over to the patio, looked at it for a while, then tested it with his boot. The patio predictably stayed where it was. Sean pondered it.
Oh, this was too good. I reached for the patio with my magic.
Sean stepped onto the concrete, putting his weight on the slab. The patio sank six inches into the ground. Sean jumped. He went straight up like a startled cat, twisted in the air, and landed on the grass. He-he! I raised the patio back up.
Sean took a step toward it. The patio slid back a foot. He took another step. The patio slid back again.
Sean spun to the house and saw me in the window. "Knock it off!"
I laughed and went to make the lemonade.
Chapter Seven
I used a spatula to rescue the last piece of French bread from the pan. I'd melted a bit of butter in a nonstick skillet and fried each piece until it turned golden brown. The trick wasn't getting the bread completely fried but instead just toasted enough for each slice to form a lovely golden crust.
I'd peeled some garlic cloves, so I took one, chopped the top off it, and began rubbing each slice of bread with the clove.
The first thing I'd done when I'd taken over the inn was update the kitchen with much larger windows, bring in new appliances, and replace the cracked and chipped white tile countertops. Money had been tight, so I'd gone with butcher block. The maple wood gave the kitchen a warm and inviting feel, and it was easier for the house to assimilate. Any building materials brought into the inn became part of the inn eventually. The inn could synthesize wood and stone, but it took a lot of energy, and providing it with the basics made things much easier. The inn fed on its environment, but the bulk of its life energy came from the guests and me. Without guests, it would fall dormant trying to conserve energy and when that happened, an inn decayed and fell apart just like any other house. When I had come to awaken Gertrude Hunt from its hibernation, it had been sleeping for so long, its siding had rotted away and a lot of the outside plumbing had succumbed to tree roots.
The day was in full swing, the afternoon golden and beautiful outside, and the countertops all but glowed as if glazed with honey. From my vantage point at the island, I could see the north patio facing the street. It was one of my favorite places to hang out. I'd sit in one of the canvas chairs and read my book.
Now the patio featured a smoker grill and Sean, armed with huge tongs. Beast lay by the grill. He'd bribed her with ribs.
I had to give it to him, the man knew how to build a fire. I kept the windows closed but even so, I could smell the spicy, tangy bite of hickory smoke. It smelled like childhood and it brought back the long, lazy summer days, barbecue, watermelon, and freeze pops. If I closed my eyes, I could almost convince myself it was Dad grilling outside rather than some werewolf with entitlement issues.
Best of all, the smoke drowned all other smells. Last night Sean had built an outdoor fire pit behind the house. He'd drawn a wide circle on the concrete, then built a wall of concrete blocks around it, leaving space to add wood. Next he lined the inside with fireproof bricks, leaving vent spaces, and installed the grill. We set the pots up, filled them with water from a hose, and let them cook through the night. The hickory chips in the fire pit drowned most of the stench, but if you stood right by the pot, you could smell an acrid, toxic odor. But to get to the back, any visitors would have to first pass by Sean's grill at the front of the house, and once they smelled the aroma of that barbecue, they wouldn't go any farther.
Sean raised the grill lid and checked the meat. He wore jeans and a plain green T-shirt. The T-shirt molded to his muscular shoulders. Sean had a peculiar kind of strength, powerful but lean, quick and supple, but without weakness. Like flexible steel.
And I've been looking at him entirely too long.
I finished with the bread, took a bowl with egg mixture out of the refrigerator, and started spreading it on the bread, arranging the slices on a pretty green platter as I went.
The screen door banged open and Sean sauntered into the kitchen. "What smells so good?"
How could he even smell it over the smoke? "Here, have one."
Sean snagged a sandwich off the platter and bit into it with a crunch. "Mmm. What's in this?"
"Egg, Miracle Whip, garlic, and French bread."
"So it's like an egg salad. It doesn't taste like an egg salad."
"That's because of the garlic and bread." I chopped green onion and sprinkled it on the sandwiches. "How are the ribs?"
"Good. We're about ready."
Sean reached for another sandwich. I raised my knife.
"Don't threaten me unless you mean to use it," he said.
"Don't steal food until it's served and I won't have to."
He laughed and went to wash his hands.
I took the lemonade and iced-tea pitchers to the table outside. Sean helped me bring out sandwiches, corn on the cob, napkins, and paper plates. Kayley Henderson and her boyfriend, Robbie, came down the sidewalk and stopped by the hedge.
"Are you the barbecue people?" Kayley asked.
"We are," I confirmed.
"We could smell it all the way from the bus stop." Robbie eyed the grill.
Sean emerged from inside. Kayley's eyebrows crept up.
"Why don't you join us," I said. "There's plenty to go around."
"Thank you!" Kayley chirped.
They came around and pulled up the chairs. A moment later Caldenia joined us.
Sean pulled the first rack of ribs off the grill and onto a wooden block. "Have to let them rest a bit."
Caldenia gifted Kayley with an inviting smile. "How are your studies going?"
For the next ten minutes we were entertained with stories of Cedar Creek High. Someone stole someone else's boyfriend, someone was selling their ADHD medication, and three boys were busted stealing the school flag. I wasn't that much older and things I'd been through would turn their hair white, but after hearing all that, I was really glad I was done with high school.
Sean carved the ribs and started passing them around the table. I cut a small piece from mine. It was delicious, just right, sweet and tangy with a hint of heat.
"Hey, you!" Margaret came up the street, her Pomeranian bouncing by her feet like a small fluff of fur. "Kayley, your mother is looking for you."
Kayley got up. "Can we take the food with us?"
I waved at them. "Please do."
"Thank you, Dina. The sandwiches are awesome."
The kids fled with their plates.
Misha ran around the hedge and Beast chased her, the two little dogs running in circles in the yard.
"Join us," Sean invited.
"Are you cooking for Dina?" Margaret opened her eyes wide. "Oooh."
"Don't they make a cute couple?" Caldenia said.
I resisted the urge to stab her with my fork. "We're not a couple. Sean fixed my smoker, so we decided to try it out."
"You're not cooking a dead body in there, are you?" Margaret asked.
I almost dropped my plate on my lap. "What? Eeew!"
Sean raised his eyebrows. "Why would you ask that?"
Margaret came around and sat in the chair. "You haven't seen the news? Turn on channel five."
Suddenly I got a cold nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. I got up. "Excuse me a moment."
Sean followed me inside, into the front room.
"Screen," I said. "Channel five."
The wall opened, revealing the monitor. It came to life, showing footage of a rural house shot from above, likely from a helicopter.
"...Scene of a terrible tragedy," a male anchor's voice said. "What's the death count now, Amy?"
The footage switched to a blond reporter standing in front of a driveway. Behind her in the distance, the house loomed, flanked by police cars.
"Police officials confirmed that all forty-two cows were killed and partially eaten, Ryan. There is no official word on the condition of John Rook's body; however, sources close to the investigation tell us that he suffered the same fate as his livestock."
"Are you saying someone fed on his body?"
Amy looked like she was about to vomit. "It appears so, Ryan. He was dismembered postmortem and part of him and the cows has been... cooked."
I almost gagged.
"Nobody had seen John Rook for several days; he could've been dead for quite a while. We'll have to wait for the coroner's official..."
Below the footage a news update flashed: local farmer found dead, his livestock mutilated.
It had to be the dahaka. How horrible. It killed the farmer, cooked him, and fed him to its dogs. I had to stop it.
Sean pulled out his phone and typed in it. "It's less than ten miles north of here."
"What are you thinking?"
"Let's say I'm the dahaka. I have a pack of stalkers on my hands and I have to feed them, but I don't want to be found. Stalkers would likely require a lot of meat. They're large and carnivorous. So I find this farm with a herd of cattle. It's remote enough for me to hide for days. I kill the farmer, start slaughtering his cows, and use the stalkers to patrol the boundaries of my territory and make sure nobody is coming. Except if the stalkers are like dogs, then they'll get bored and start to roam farther and farther until they find something interesting."