"All right, everybody! You know the drill!" September said sternly. She didn't really sound angry so much as disappointed. The flames in her hair, however, gave her away. They were blazing hotly, spitting angry-sounding sparks. Alfred was trying to conceal his snickering in a very-expensive looking handkerchief. His long silver hair acted as a protective curtain to his twinkling silver eyes from this angle. Venelope was trying to stifle her own melodic laughter, her vibrant scarlet eyes brimming with tears. She corralled her collection of rag dolls into a wicker basket that had seen better days and settled onto the moth-eaten couch. Dusk soon joined her, her black curls wild and frizzy, but her face expressionless.
Alfred cleared his throat and began to clean the spatter of blood off of her cheek.
"Dusk, my dear, where is your brother?" he asked quietly.
"He's coming," she said in a toneless voice, "he's still testing out Beatrice."
September frowned.
"Who's Beatrice?"
Right at that moment, there was a noisy thumping rhythm of child feet in the hallway. Adrian miscalculated the distance and almost collided with the wall when he tried to stop. The floor had been freshly coated with dog saliva and was still slippery from its polishing. Fluffy, the zombie butler, moaned out a greeting to him, and continued his dabbing with the dirty gray rag.
"Good girl, Beatrice, good, good, good! She cutcutcutcutcutcut so sharp!" Adrian exclaimed excitedly. The knife in question was in his blood-coated hands and he waved it around joyously. His silver eyes were wild and his cap was askew on his head. Alfred pretended to sneeze as a way to suppress his laughter and motioned for Adrian to come to him.
"Daddy! Cutcutcutcutcut! Need more, need more!" he exclaimed, narrowly missing Alfred's cheek with the slightly curved blade. Alfred smiled at his son's enthusiasm and took the knife out of his hand.
"Just a moment, Son. Your mother and I need to have a talk to you before you go play with Beatrice again."
Lilly was slowly descending the stairs, muttering to herself amusedly.
"If you ask me," she rasped, "the little wench deserved it."
September frowned at her ancient mother-in-law and Lilly took this as her cue to head for the dining room. Her black eyes glittered knowingly.
Someday, she thought smugly, you'll be looking at me from a different angle than what you're used to. And it won't be down much longer.
"Now then," September sighed, "it's time to discuss what happened here this afternoon. I know you weren't particularly fond of Angel—to be honest, I wasn't either, but she was the last one from the agency that was willing to keep an eye on you. Lilly is always busy doing Farn-knows-what, your father has to be away on business, and I…well…I was hoping I'd be able to dance again, but I'm beginning to think that it won't happen. Is it really such a trial to keep your shenanigans down to a minimum until we return?"
"Butbutbutbut—" Adrian started to protest, but his mother's stern gaze temporarily silenced him. Even Venelope's dolls cowered and she was forced to pick one of them up when it started sobbing.
Ooh…real tears this time, she thought, I'm getting better.
"Now, Venelope, what happened?"
"Well," Venelope said, putting on her best innocent cherub-like face, "I wanted to get a lock of Angel's hair but the witch refused. I asked her nicely, I even offered to trade her one of the bracelets I made. She yelled at me. And, you know, of course, Dusk and Adrian didn't care for that. So I bribed Adrian to…uh…sneak up behind her and…"
Her voice dropped to a mumble.
"…cut a lock of her hair…but he got a little carried away. He, uh, cut a bit more than just her hair. I did get it and ask him to stop, but by then, he was all excited because of how precise Beatrice's cuts were…and then Dusk tried to distract her and make her feel better by drawing her, but then she got even more horrid. She told Dusk that…"
By now, Alfred had his laughter under control, but his eyes were still sparkling.
"Continue," he said patiently.
"That bitch told me that my drawings were terrible," Dusk said quietly, "that they were more hideous than a bunch of modern art displays. So I was forced to show her the error of her ways."
She held up a drawing that seemed composed entirely of blood. The drawing was moving, animated, as if it were being watched on a TV screen or a computer instead of ordinary paper. The babysitter in question, Angel, was running away screaming, and being chased by Dusk and Adrian while Venelope's dolls tried to impede her progress down a long hallway.
September shook her head.
"I don't blame you for being furious with her, Sweetie, but you can't stab somebody and then draw with their blood because you're angry."
"I didn't," Dusk said, "Adrian did. I just took advantage of the situation."
"Sliced her open! Gave Dusk paint! Cutcutcutcut!" Adrian agreed.
September turned slowly to Alfred.
"What are we going to do now? We're all scheduled to be gone tomorrow and we can't leave them here on their own. Fluffy and Pidgeon Poop have their hands full with this place as it is and Venelope's not quite old enough to be in charge…"
"Well…." Alfred said quietly, "I'm sure we'll think of someone to watch this lot. I'd suggest hanging them up by their toes in the dungeon, but they'd eventually get hungry and escape."
Adrian was sprinting in circles, gazing at Beatrice longingly.
"Chew through the chains, bite, bite, bite! So much biting!" he exclaimed manically, "I want Beatrice now, gotta have her, gotta have her!"
Alfred released his grip on the knife and Adrian sped away enthusiastically, the knife scraping a deep gouge in the wall as he moved.
"I don't know where he gets all that energy from, but I'm jealous," September sighed. Alfred winked at her and she blushed, her cheeks glowing bright-hot orange.
Now I remember, she thought naughtily.
Vanelope chuckled.
"Well, now that you know what happened, can I finish working on Zephyr? She should be done tomorrow. I bet I can make her run even faster than Angel can."
September nodded dismissively and Vanelope got up. She'd been holding onto Spider, a doll that she'd crafted from Adrian's hair, to keep him from escaping. After constantly being cut open by Adrian's knives, Spider always kept out of Adrian's sights even though he actually belonged to him. He was still missing a gray button eye and always had to hold his tummy to keep the stuffing from falling out. Seeing that Adrian was really gone, however, he stopped struggling and trying to bite Venelope's hand with his little needle teeth. She patted him gently and dropped him back in the basket where the other dolls were fighting over a ribbon they'd found.
"Want to help, Dusk?" Venelope asked. Dusk followed her, seeming almost zombie-like.
"What are we going to use for its guts? We never got a chance to extract any," September heard her say as they rounded the corner.
"They're more like you every day," she said teasingly to her husband. He picked her up and swung her around, carelessly knocking her into a shelf full of vases. One shattered musically on the dusty floor.
"Of course they are, my wilted flower! They taught that lower-class cretin a lesson, didn't they? Sent her packing with a whacking!" he kissed September's lips. She was standing supported solely on one toe—the other leg extended over her head.
"Yes, they certainly did! But the problem remains as to who can watch them. Adrian tends to get a bit…er…excited in crowds. And I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing Lilly with watching them on such short notice. Let's face it, Alfred…we don't need a babysitter so much as we need a prison guard."
"A prison guard, you say…" Alfred said thoughtfully, tossing September on the couch, "you've just given me an idea!"
"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" she asked.
"In a moment."
Fluffy had finished polishing the floor and discreetly lumbered out of the room as soon as the children were gone. A few moments later, they sat up. September's dress was very askew and one of her shoes was missing. Alfred looked like he'd just escaped from a burning building with his deathly pale skin coated in soot and with tiny burnt holes in his jacket.
"You're always going on about prison guards and parole officers," he said, "but imagine if you weren't joking?"
"Please tell me you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking," September protested.
"I'm going to ask Barliman if he'd be interested in a little extra work," Alfred confirmed, silver eyes twinkling.
"But he's an old man! You can't seriously think that—"
"Hear me out on this—the children love him. Every time they know he's coming, they wait in the foyer to positively maul him. They listen to him. And, as he's a cop, he'll know all of their moves and be able to counter them without breaking a sweat! They don't stand a chance!"
He laughed almost maniacally.
"It's perfect! Why didn't I think of this before!"
And before September could stop him, he sprinted off in search of the phone.
Barliman Wheat was pouring himself a cup of coffee when his phone rang. The soothing notes of classical music were a nice change to the constant droning of the office phones. He realized it was Alfred and tapped the "accept" button.
"You're still at work, aren't you?" Alfred said before Wheat could even manage a hello, "Predictable, my old friend…it is official. You have no life."
"That's what happens when people like you are constantly dropping dead because everyone despises them," he returned fire, blue eyes glinting mischievously, "what do you want, Alfred? Because I'm not bailing you out of another traffic ticket."
Both men laughed for a moment and Barliman stirred more sugar into the discount coffee. He told himself for the third time today that he should start bringing his own thermos. At least it cleared the grease from hundreds of take-out meals from his guts.
"I have a little business proposition for you, Old Man," Alfred said cheerfully, "one that could help us both out very much. You'd be paid very generously, of course."
Wheat quickly swallowed his coffee.
"I've heard this line before and the answer is n-"
"Hear me out," Alfred interrupted, "I promise you it's perfectly legal and not at all like last time. I just need someone to watch the children. September and I have a concert coming up tomorrow night and…well….Lilly tends to let Adrian have far too much rum. They love you and frankly you're the only person I can think of that could handle them what with you being a cop and all…"
Wheat sighed.
"You know perfectly well that those days are long behind me," he started to say, but Alfred interrupted him again:
"You mean to tell me that you can handle three-hundred-pound almost seven-foot men trying to spit acid in your face and rampaging trolls and drunken ogres and even Ravenous himself, but you can't handle three spirited children? Losing your touch already?"
"I could say the same for you—you must be very desperate," Wheat replied smugly. This was an old game for them—the teasing remarks that seemed to be fighting words for others could only be played between men who almost considered themselves to be brothers separated at birth.
"We'll be leaving at around six," Alfred said, "and we very likely won't be home until late Saturday morning. Is that all right? You, of course, can make yourself at home and take one of the spare rooms if you'd like to stay overnight."
"Of course. I'll come by shortly before then."
There was a chorus of cheers. Apparently, the children had been eavesdropping. He could hear Venelope's excited chattering and Adrian's fragmented speech interrupted by a constant staccato of "cutcutcutcut!"
"As you can hear," Alfred said warmly, "this seems to be one of my more popular ideas."
A quiet laugh answered him.
"Just a warning…I would leave your case files at home," Alfred said, "things tend to go missing in this house."
"I know," Wheat replied. He had been forced to replace his favorite hat numerous times. The other ones simply never turned up. The conversation soon ended with September calling Alfred to dinner and Wheat's stomach rumbled. He'd barely eaten anything all day—he was, in the truest definition, a workaholic. As he left the station to go to his favorite diner around the corner, he found himself pondering what was to come tomorrow night. Venelope would probably have finished another batch of her experimental dolls and would want to show him her collection in great detail. Adrian, well, the best tactic with him was to be good at ducking the moment you saw something glint and to tire him out as quickly as possible. Dusk…Dusk was still an enigma to be sure. He could never quite understand the way she felt toward him because even on the day she'd broken her leg falling down the stairs, her face remained as deadpan as ever though it turned quite rosy. But she was always asking him about the cases he was working on and constantly requested photos of the crime scenes. Once, she had even asked if he would teach her how to shoot a gun.
"When you're able to hold it properly, I will," he had said to the small, frail-looking four-year-old, "your hands are still too small right now."
When he paid his check, he wondered if she would remember that promise.
It occurred to him that night after he arrived home that he didn't really know that much about children. He had seen them at their worst after terrible things had happened to them, after he had rescued them from abusive parents and ruthless kidnappers. He had never actually had any of his own. Things just hadn't worked out that way. But these children…they were different than most others here in Octovius. Eccentric didn't quite cover it.
"Perhaps I'll be okay after all," he thought out loud.
The dingy, shabby little apartment had never known the rhythm of their shoes, nor their noisy giggles. When they were old enough to wonder where he lived, Wheat had simply answered that their house was a lot nicer and Alfred had vehemently agreed. He never knew what Alfred had actually said to them, but the inquiries had long since stopped coming. He was thankful for that. Though Ravenlung Manor could be a deathtrap in some places, it was still very grand and spacious and he always enjoyed his time there. He couldn't help but feel slightly envious from time to time. He hoped this would go well—perhaps he would be asked over more.
Friday morning dawned gloomy and stormy. The maelstrom didn't let up and only steadily worsened as the day went on. Wheat's briefcase was almost torn out of his grasp when he stowed it in the car. He was thankful he'd placed the overnight bag in here earlier when the wind wasn't so bad. The rain was coming down in sheets and it took longer than he expected to arrive at the manor. By the time he got there, it was starting to get dark despite the still-early hour. Dusk, Venelope, and Adrian were jumping around in the puddles. All three of them were wearing nothing but bathing suits despite the chilly evening and they were streaked with mud.
"Cutcutcutcutcut!" Adrian exclaimed, brandishing Beatrice at the car. Wheat only just blocked him from scraping the paint.
"Come on, Adrian! You want Beatrice to be all nice and shiny for our guest, don't you?" September called. Adrian giggled and swiped at the air only an inch from Wheat's nose before blurring into the house. Venelope squealed and pounced on him, her face leaving a trail of mud on his raincoat. He grunted with the impact, knocked backwards against the closed door of the car.
"You seem to get stronger each time I see you," he gasped out. She seemed determined to break his ribs. Despite his extra padding around his middle, he felt rather bruised up.
"Of course I'm stronger! I have to be to beat all those sharks in the races at the zoo!" Venelope exclaimed, "My first race is next month!"
"Congratulations," he wheezed. She finally released him and he took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Hello, Mr. Wheat," a quiet, dark voice sounded from next to his elbow. He looked down to see Dusk's silver eyes peering out at him from behind a mask of mud. She was so covered in it that he couldn't tell where it ended and her black one-piece bathing suit began.
"Ah, there you are! You blended in perfectly with the landscape," he remarked, "are you practicing your camouflage again?"
She nodded, globs of mud pattering to the ground.
"Well done! I would hug you but I'd hate to make extra work for Fluffy."
"He doesn't mind," Dusk replied, "that's what we pay him for."
And she hugged him, completely covering his side with mud. He only winced a little bit, then yelped as a spray of water hit him squarely in the chest. Venelope giggled.
"Hold on, Mr. Wheat! I missed a spot!"
She squeezed the trigger of the garden hose once more. To her credit, she did get all the mud off of both him and the car…the downside was that he was now completely soaked. Sighing, he went inside and changed clothes while the three children argued against a bath, as mud was supposed to be good for their skin. Alfred joined in, but September held her ground.
When they all emerged downstairs again for dinner, the children were at least recognizable though Venelope lamented the lack of cobwebs in her hair.
"They'll take ages to get right again," she mumbled, looking in the corners for a new spider, "I guess that's the price you pay for beauty."
Adrian burst out laughing.
"Plastic surgery…let me…I can fix it…fix…cut…slice…"
"Did you just call me ugly, you little worm?" Venelope demanded.
"No. He just said he can make improvements," Dusk replied, calmly shoving a sardine up her nose. She didn't even react when its tail started to twitch. Alfred plucked another one off the pizza slice and watched it wriggle.
"They're not quite as fresh as they used to be," he lamented before swallowing it whole.
Adrian proudly displayed Beatrice for Wheat.
"This is Beatrice," he said, forming a rare full sentence, "see? So shiny…so curved…prettyprettyprettysharpsosharp!"
"Yes…er…it's very nice," Wheat said, again, dodging Adrian's swipe at him, "is that a new one?"
Adrian nodded. He proceeded to dice his pizza slices up into teeny tiny little squares. They were very, very precise and didn't leave a single crumb out of place. He then buried his face in his food and began to devour it like a dog. Wheat understood that Adrian had never actually been trying to hurt him—in fact, Adrian was almost always a very happy boy though his expression of joy was very unusual. It was when he became quiet and still that everyone got concerned.
"How long are you staying this time?" Venelope asked.
"Overnight," Alfred said, "which means that the three of you had better be on your best behavior. Or we'll all catch utter Hell from your mother and we don't want that."
September raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise nodded in agreement.
"Ohhhh I get it!" Venelope exclaimed, "You were saving the best for last! That's why we had all those other boring people around before! Did I figure it out?"
"The others wouldn't come back," Dusk whispered to Wheat, the sardine still poking out of her nostril, "we ran them all off. I wouldn't be surprised if they called you about attempted murder."
"I see…" he whispered back, "…you didn't kill any of them, did you, Dusk?"
She shook her head.
"Not from lack of trying."
Everyone but Dusk and Wheat cracked up laughing. Wheat smiled uneasily and finished the glass of soda. He was pretty sure that Dusk hadn't been joking.
After dinner, September and Alfred hugged and kissed their children before getting into the car. September whispered in Venelope's ear "Call me if things get out of hand, all right, Darling?"
Venelope nodded, but she would see to it that things went well this time. She was tired of old ladies who were terrified of them. That got really boring after a while.
"Excuse us for just a minute," Venelope told Wheat before ushering Dusk and Adrian into the hallway.
"Now, then," she said when they were out of earshot, "we have to make this go well or he won't come back. Unlike everybody else, Mr. Wheat actually likes us and he might let us do things that the other babysitters wouldn't! If we're really good, we might get drive the police car!"
"Noisynoisynoisynoisy!" Adrian exclaimed before mimicking a siren at the top of his lungs. Dusk punched him hard and he got the message quickly. Slinking into the corner, he hugged Beatrice against his chest while growing like a wolf. Dusk turned back to Venelope.
"So….we can't sick the dogs on him?" Dusk asked.
"Probably not. Their teeth are pretty sharp and he's not very fast," Venelope said.
"Can'tcutcutcutcut? GRRRRRRRR!" Adrian rumbled from the corner.
"No, Adrian. Beatrice will have to sleep tonight. Even she deserves a rest."
Adrian groaned before resuming his dog imitations. He did a high-pitched puppy whine that was very convincing.
"And…as much as I hate to wait…I can't steal any of his skin to make a doll with," she sighed, "but maybe I can snatch one of the buttons off his coat. I don't think he'd miss that."
Adrian nodded eagerly.
"Get the button get the button get the button cutcutcutcut it off off off!"
"Yeah, you can do that later," Venelope said, "when it's off of him, okay?"
Adrian's spirits seemed to have been restored. He howled like a wolf and lapped the room a few times, Beatrice between his grayish lips.
"Okay…so everyone's clear on what we have to do—and not do, right?" Venelope asked, "Nothing that can seriously kill or injure Mr. Wheat. Nothing. If you have to ask, the answer is probably NO."
Dusk and Adrian nodded.
"Okay…it's going to be boring, though," Dusk sighed. Adrian was too distracted to reply—he had consumed an enormous amount of soda at dinner and was now watering one of the potted plants. The shivering cactus screeched in horror and spikes popped out all over its sickly green body. Adrian snickered as he dodged the six-inch long needles.
"Hahahahahaha! You lose!" he said, triumphantly zipping his trousers.
"Come on, Adrian," Dusk said, dragging him backward, "we've kept our guest waiting long enough. I have an entire gallery of new drawings I have to get through."
Wheat was waiting for them in the living room. At first, he was being pulled in three different directions as the children argued over who was going to show him what first. Though it was a little bit scary, he couldn't deny that it was nice to have people fighting over him. Dusk managed to subdue the other two into letting him go upstairs to the gallery first by four words:
"Third floor, second bedroom."
At this statement, Venelope and Adrian both winced and went quiet.
"Do I want to know?" Wheat asked Dusk.
"No you don't. This way."
Instead of telling him about each drawing, she stood still and let him wander past the varying paintings, drawings, and half-finished sculptures. The sculptures (fortunately? Unfortunately?) didn't move, but all of the drawings did.
"I see you've made good use of the sketchbook that I gave you," he observed, "have you gotten around to drawing me yet?"
Dusk shrugged.
"I've tried," she admitted, "but I can't quite get your face right. I'm not used to drawing old people."
He merely smiled at her bluntness.
"Yes, we are a bit of a challenge aesthetically," he replied, "but this one of your mother is exquisite."
She gave a small nod, clearly pleased, as crayon September twirled and swirled in and out of the frame, the flames trailing from her hair and the points of her ballet shoes. Now that the art exhibit was complete, she no longer objected when Adrian dragged Wheat upstairs. He avoided the pressure-triggered traps on the stairs expertly and they arrived in Adrian's room unscathed. The gist of what Adrian wanted to show him was a mini-forge and several new molds for knife blades.
"Army of Beatrices cutcutcutcutcut the whole world!" he said proudly.
"Very nice," Wheat said indulgently, "I hope I get a new one. My old one is quite dull."
"Gimmegimmegimmegimme!" Adrian demanded. He found Wheat's pocket knife and snatched it out of his pocket before he could possibly stop him and began to sharpen it with an ecstatic grin on his face.
"He lives for that," Venelope said, grinning, "he doesn't get to do it that often anymore since every knife, sword, or sharp thing in general we own is already done."
Adrian lightly grazed the now gleaming blade over his finger. It didn't hurt, but a tiny droplet of blood oozed up from it. He licked it away and handed the knife back to Wheat.
"Um…thank you, Adrian."
Venelope had taught all her dolls to sing and they serenaded Wheat with a cacophonous melody that sounded like a bunch of fighting cats. Now that he was adequately caught up with all their lives, Dusk tugged at his sleeve.
"Now will you teach me how to shoot? Father got me my own gun for my birthday."
Eager to get away from the earsplitting choir, Wheat nodded and was careful not to run. When Venelope's door was safely closed behind them, they reached the backyard. Dusk's new gun shone brilliantly in the moonlight that was attempting to break through the storm clouds. He shouldn't have been surprised at Alfred having bought Dusk a real gun instead of a toy, but Alfred was a little less…timid…on these matters. Perhaps having three heirs to the Ravenlung fortune had made the decision for him.
She'll be a fetching young lady when she gets a bit older, Wheat observed as the moonlight turned the flat waxy paleness of Dusk's skin to silver, it can't hurt for her to know how to protect herself.
He showed her the correct way to hold the gun and how to take the safety off. Though her expression remained dull and uninterested, he could tell by her body language that she was listening intently to every word he said.
"When you walk with it, keep it pointed up or down like this," he explained, "you don't want to unintentionally pull the trigger on someone innocent."
She mimicked him as he drew his own service pistol.
"Now then…aim like this and use the sight right here to line up your shot."
He showed her, aiming at a headless angel that was perched atop some old tombstone.
"You're a better listener than some of the new recruits I've trained," he complimented her, "now, very gently squeeze the trigger. If you jerk it too hard, your aim will be off."
He didn't even register that she'd moved, but there was a deafening BANG as the gun fired. The bullet ripped through the empty air where the angel's forehead had once been. Cawing night-birds and chittering bats scattered up from the dead treetops. Dusk nodded, satisfied.
"I think her halo just fused with her brains."
Venelope and Adrian were cheering and whooping. Wheat cringed just a little bit but clapped for her.
"Very good," he said uneasily.
"I wonder….can you get our Frisbee down? It's been sort of…stuck…on the weather vane for a while," Venelope said.
Adrian was laughing.
"Wind wind stupid wind took took took it! Can't cutcutcut the wind!"
Wheat traced his gaze up to the raven-shaped weather vane. A bright orange Frisbee was hanging from the giant E. He aimed at the horizontal metal bar. There was a loud PING as the bullet made impact and ricocheted off of it. The Frisbee plummeted to the earth.
"Now, if anyone asks," he said, holstering his gun, "Dusk did it."
Dusk shrugged.
"Okay. It's not like they can do anything to me anyway."
The children occupied themselves noisily for the next half hour or so throwing the Frisbee around. Even Fluffy managed to catch it in his teeth when he brought the phone outside. Wheat took it from him and ducked whenever Adrian hurled the Frisbee right toward his head. Behind him, Venelope caught it, shrieking with laughter.
"You missed!" She teased Wheat.
"It sounds like they're having a wonderful time," September remarked, sounding impressed, "so…how is it going?"
"It's going well, actually," Wheat answered, trying to edge out of the game carefully, "I'm sure they're all going to sleep very well when they finally tire themselves out."
"And nothing's actually broken or burned down or sliced open more than usual?" September asked, astonished.
"Not at all. They've been on their best behavior, actually," Wheat replied as Dusk pounced on Adrian in the background and shoved his face into the mud.
"They are? Oh dear…please, Barliman, be careful! They usually save their best for when you let your guard down!"
"September, I assure you I can handle it. I am a homicide detective, after all. Dusk, Dear, please let Adrian breathe—even he has his limits—good girl."
September couldn't help but chuckle.
"Is she trying to drown him again?"
"Yes. But he's laughing. And Venelope is making mud angels. Did you know that they apparently have two heads?"
"Yes, I've heard. Well, I have to go on in two minutes, but thank you again. Oh—Alfred's here!"
She passed the phone to Alfred.
"I knew you could do it!" he said, beaming, "this is officially the best idea I've ever had! Have they tired you out yet, Old Man?"
"Of course not," Wheat answered, "they've been delightful company. Dusk's tried out her new gun tonight. She's quite a skilled shot for a beginner."
"I knew she would be," Alfred said proudly, "I tried to teach her before, but I sort of missed and hit Pidgeon Poop by accident. Luckily for me, he always wanted his ear pierced. So what did you practice on? The wild dogs? The rapid birds? The swamp monsters?"
"Nothing with a pulse," Wheat replied, "just an old headless statue."
"Oh, I see. You're breaking her in slowly. Well, we'll work our way up. Oh—I should go—September's scene is starting. We'll check in again in a couple of hours. Thanks again—I mean it from the bottom of my heart!"
The call disconnected. Wheat pocketed the cell phone and turned around to see the three children splashing noisily in the fountain. He couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, that's one way to get cleaned up."
"Last time Fluffy tried to pick up all our clothes without them being rinsed, I had to sew his arm back on," Venelope commented, "not to mention it takes too long for him to gather the algae to scent them."
The headlights of a car spilled over them as the brakes squealed noisily to a halt. Wheat suppressed a shudder.
"It appears that your grandmother is back," he remarked.
The tap of Lilly's cane echoed slightly on the sidewalk and her sickly sweet perfume made them all start coughing.
"Good evening, Lilly. You got a new bottle of bug spray, I see," Wheat remarked, trying not to choke on the toxic invisible clouds.
"It's about time somebody around here noticed!" She giggled, a strange sound coming from her shriveled old lungs, "I swear, Barliman, you could charm the pants off of anyone!"
She winked at him and he suppressed a shudder.
"I swear, you make me feel like a young girl again," she sighed wistfully, "the days do go by too quickly…if anyone needs me, I'll be upstairs. With the door unlocked."
She gazed pointedly at Wheat who was suddenly taking a very big interest in a bat flying across the moon.
Venelope giggled as the back of Lilly's skirts slowly disappeared around the corner.
"Grandmother really likes you," she said, very amused at his discomfort, "which is hilarious because she usually seems to hate everybody."
"Wonderful. Are you ready to go in now?"
"Yeah. There's one more thing on our list before bed."
A few minutes later, the children were in their pajamas. Venelope, who had just gotten a new gown made out of spider silk, was dancing around like September on her toes. Adrian's pajamas were full of gashes, a method that he often used to improve his wardrobe. And Dusk was chewing on the hem of her shirt, claiming that it didn't quite enough teeth marks to really feel "slept in". The coffee table was full of various snacks and the video game systems were all glowing, ready to be played with. Though it was a common stereotype that elders are no good at video games, this turned out not to be true with Wheat. There were a bunch of glittery, beautiful angels attacking a hoard of zombies and the objective was to shoot them out of the sky before they could hurt the poor, innocent zombies. For extra points, you could also make the angels' brains fall out for the zombies to eat and regain their health. Wheat was a natural at this game, second only to Adrian who was slashing at them with melee weapons. After that, there was a very realistic and gruesome fighting game.
"Don't just stand there! Tear out her spine!" Venelope urged Wheat when he was fighting Dusk.
"It's your funeral," she said with an apathetic shrug.
RIIIIIP!
The avatar of Dusk was now in bloody pieces all over the floor.
"I'd say it's an improvement," he joked, expecting a pillow to the face. Dusk tilted her head, studying her broken remains on the screen.
"Hmmm….you're right. But now I have to figure out how to make you better. I think I'll rip your guts out and make you wear them as a necklace."
She made good on that promise in the next round. Wheat's avatar was almost unrecognizable. She took her victory as she took everything else—expressionless. But everyone else was laughing as Wheat gagged, choked, and pretended to die in real life. Thoroughly enjoying Venelope's and Adrian's hysterical laughter, he hammed it up for all it was worth. They all three then preceeded to beat him with the couch cushions until they were breathless and even paler than usual with laughter. Everyone went silent when the phone rang, however. Wheat pressed his finger to his lips in a "Shhhhh" gesture.
"Oh, of course they're in bed," he told September, "they put up a little token resistance, of course, but nothing I couldn't handle. No, I was careful with the sugar—I know how Adrian reacts to it."
They all stifled their laughter in their couch cushions except for Dusk who was watching blankly.
"Yes, of course you can say good night to them. Here's Dusk."
Wheat passed the phone to her as they all tiptoed up the stairs. After she had her turn, she paused a few seconds before passing it to Adrian. This was a wise move—September, though she suspected what was really going on, could not prove her suspicions. Adrian eventually surrendered the phone after trying to swallow it to Venelope.
"We'll be there when you wake up, Darling," September told her, "and you've done a great job being the lady of the house."
Venelope glowed with pleasure at this praise.
"Thanks, Mama. I can't wait to see what you bring back for us."
There were always present, she reasoned, and with this miracle of Wheat lasting so much longer than the other ones and having nothing but nice things to say, they were bound to be really big ones.
A few minutes later, they technically were in bed. September had not said whose bed they were supposed to go to, an opportunity they all took advantage of naturally. After constructing an elaborate fort out of pillows, blankets, and animal skins that still moved and growled, they all piled in with their head-shaped flashlights, sickly yellow beams sprouting from the open mouths.
"I sincerely hope I won't regret this," Wheat said, rifling through his suitcase, "so if any of you has nightmares, it's our little secret."
"The scarier the better," Venelope demanded, "find us the biggest, grossest, most awful one you've got!"
Dusk nodded in agreements.
"Got any dismemberments in there? Beheadings? Disembowlings?"
He rifled through the folders for a moment.
How is it that such a pretty face can conceal such a mind? He wondered, amused.
"This ought to satisfy your morbid little minds," he said, choosing a fat file, "an entire family gone in one night."
Dusk's eyes widened just the slightest bit.
"How'd they do it?"
"We're actually not sure yet," he replied, "the toxicology reports haven't come in and the autopsies are still being done on what's left. Whoever it was didn't leave a trace behind. What we do know is that the bodies were pumped full of preservatives that were very similar to Dusk's heart collection, only they were still alive."
Dusk stared intently at the pictures.
"That's a line even I wouldn't cross."
"I suspect they were still alive when the preservatives were injected," Wheat continued, "then afterwards, they were bathed and dressed in new clothes, probably some that the killer had brought with them. They were given makeup that made them look like porcelain dolls very similar to Venelope's and posed around the table as though they were at a tea party. Each one had a mouth full of rose petals."
Dusk shuddered.
"How barbaric."
"Whomever did it wanted us to notice," he said, "or they would have hidden these unfortunate people somewhere else."
He read out details of the case and showed them all the pictures. Venelope looked torn between shock and excitement. Adrian had grown restless and was carving an elaborate design into the headboard of the bed. Dusk was chewing thoughtfully on a strand of her hair. Eventually, all three grew more still and gradually reclined. As they pondered on who this nutcase was and the previous victims, their eyelids all grew heavy. Though she was the eldest, Venelope's scarlet eyes closed first and her breath slowed. She had been resting her head on Wheat's ample belly when she had fallen asleep. Dusk eventually drifted off, her hand still clutching the pistol that she hadn't let out of her sight. At least the safety was on. Adrian was the final holdout, but even his hand slid off the handle of his knife after a bit. Wheat pulled it out of the headboard and placed it on the bedside table.
I did it…I actually did it… he thought, watching the moonlight illuminate the oversized room. Eventually, his own head fell back and he started to snore quietly. He was briefly reawakened by Venelope pressing in on his stomach. In her half-asleep state, she seemed to have mistaken him for a pillow that had gone flat. It was hard not to laugh. She rolled over on her other side mumbling something about frogs. That was all he remembered until the next morning.
Alfred and September didn't return until late that night as promised. When they went around the house in search of Wheat and the children, they were careful to shush the zombie heads in the entrance. Fluffy and Pigeon Poop were both dozing in their coffins in the basement. When they finally discovered the missing four in the upstairs basement with the carefully constructed fort halfway collapsed thanks to Adrian kicking over one of the supporting pillow-stack pillars, they had to suppress their laughter.
"That is the cutest thing I've ever seen," September whispered, her heart positively melting.
"He gets on with them so well," Alfred said, looking very impressed. Considering how hard it was to impress him, Wheat had almost done the impossible.
"Can't resist," September said, snapping a picture of them with her phone. Even the flash managed not to wake them.
"Come, my Darling," Alfred whispered, "let's not wake them up. Besides, I haven't had you all to myself in ages…"
He lifted his wife up in a bridal-carry and whisked her away to their own chambers.
"So…do you think we should wait until after breakfast to ask him to come back next week?"