Curse of the Nandi (Society for Paranormals Book 5) (24 page)

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving at him to stop. “I’m not sure what entertainment value there would be in it, but to each his own.” Disconcerted by the topic, I glanced at my watch for the umpteenth time and stared out the window.

“I’m sure the energy sucker can manage to issue a simple proclamation,” Gideon said, his lips twisting slightly as if chewing on a lemon. “He has enough hot air in him to accomplish at least that much.”

“There’s nothing simple about it,” I said a tad crossly. “If it’s not handled with a certain delicacy…”

Gideon snickered. “Delicacy and Mr. Timmons are rather contradictory, aren’t they?”

I ignored the interruption. “There’d be panic and a mass exodus, thus spreading the Plague to all and sundry.”

“Sounds delicious,” a sultry voice said, and Yao sauntered into the living room, his excessively exposed skin glowing like mahogany in the firelight.

“Good grief, I thought you’d left long ago,” I said as I lifted my metal teapot. It was empty, which vexed me more than the sight of the firefly vampire in my home. I wondered how effective the teapot would be as a projectile. It was certainly hefty enough to put a decent dent in anyone’s head, I imagined.

“Yao was in the neighborhood, and thought that Yao truly must pay a visit to a dear friend,” Yao said, mimicking my accent with disquieting accuracy.

“I’m hardly your friend, barely even an acquaintance,” I informed him.

“Not you,” he said with a pout that caused my knees to wobble ever so slightly, the traitorous things. “Yao was referring to Gideon. Such a delightful creature. Such an engaging and amiable companion. So…”

“That is quite enough,” I said, refraining from gritting my teeth or tossing my teapot at the Adze’s gorgeous head. After all, I would’ve hated to put a dent into one of the few mementos I had of my mother. “Why are you really here?”

Gideon bestowed on me a wounded look which I ignored. Yao stretched his arms above his head with a sense of luxuriousness that was breathtaking. He then shook his shoulders as if he needed limber muscles for what he was about to utter.

“Your husband is going to fail,” Yao purred and then licked his lips as he glided aimlessly around the room. “He won’t be able to stop this alone. People will panic. The Plague will spread. The Nandi are doomed. The Kerit will frolic about, eating all the brains. Your brother…”

“Well, aren’t you a messenger of joy?” I interrupted the performance. “Wait. What about my brother?”

Before I could blink, Yao was looming before me, the concept of personal space and propriety extinguished in one breath. I stepped back and bumped against the table; he leaned in, his sharp canines glistening in anticipation, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It was no wonder he and Gideon were such bosom companions.

“Your darling little brother rather enjoys the camaraderie of the Kerit,” he declared, the silkiness of his voice wrapping around me. “Yao thinks he won’t be joining us for dinner very often.”

“You think far too much,” I said and pushed him away. The sensation was rather similar to placing my hands against a wall, and a very muscular wall at that. I couldn’t suppress the blush that resulted on my face, but Yao merely grinned and removed himself from my space as abruptly as he had entered it. Instead he joined Gideon by the fireplace and mimicked the posture of leaning against the rough stone mantel.

“And why should Mr. Timmons fail in his quest?” I asked, while I stepped between the two paranormals and wrangled the kettle off the hook.

Yao snickered. “Yawa is there.”

I frowned as I set my teapot down and inhaled the scent emitted by the tealeaves soaking up the hot water. “I do hope your sister isn’t about to cause trouble.”

“No, no, no trouble at all,” he purred, his words jiggling with laughter.

I leaned against the wooden table and crossed my arms over my chest, not in the least convinced. “And?”

He tapped his temple. “She’s watching. Everything she sees, she shows Yao.”

I couldn’t feign disinterest at the revelation that the Adze siblings shared a telepathic link. “And what is she telling you, Yao?”

His grin widened and despite the elongated and sharp canines, and the trifling detail of his blood-based diet, Yao was as charming and delightful in that moment as a choirboy. Instead of answering me, he said, “She’s waiting for the workers to run. Then I’ll join her and we’ll catch them.”

“Kam informed you that this was my jurisdiction,” I reminded him.

“Nairobi is, yes,” he countered. “But not outside the town limits.”

I pictured Nairobi. I wasn’t sure if there were formal town limits, but if there were, they wouldn’t encompass much more than the existing structures. In that case, my domain wasn’t overly impressive. “And how do you know anyone will escape the quarantine? It will be established before they even wake up.”

Gideon chuckled as if sharing the joke that had infused Yao with a giggling fit. “Because, Miss Knight, my sister is saying that the real Dr. Spurrier has awoken.”

Chapter 27

If his voice wasn’t so delightfully musical, I’d have accused Yao of cackling at my fumbled efforts to gather my wits and my weapons. While I didn’t much appreciate the giggles that followed me about the cottage, I didn’t try to dissuade Yao from joining me. Who knew but I might have need of his services yet. Gideon had disappeared.

I swung a bow and quiver onto my back, slipped a blade into my boot and a sachet of powdered cinnamon into my pocket, and took firm grip of my walking stick. As prepared as I could be, I reluctantly abandoned my teapot and hurried out to the barn. I glanced at the sky as I tugged Nelly awake. Night still held firm rule, with no moon to outshine the stars thickly embedded in the heavens.

“You do realize that sunrise is only a couple of hours away,” I informed the firefly that was perched on my shoulder.

While I was certain flies couldn’t shrug, this one seemed to do just that. “We are not disturbed by such trivialities.”

I snorted at that. “I’m sure your European cousins wouldn’t refer to sunrise as trivial,” I said. “Nelly, be like the wind and find Mr. Timmons.”

The horse rolled her eyes at me, shook her head, flattened her ears and chomped at the bit.

“I promise you a very big breakfast after all this work,” I added.

I was nearly unseated as the little brute flung herself forward and hurtled toward town. Above us, the sky was streaked silver, and all around were only shadows. I didn’t dare glance to the side to see if the firefly was still attached to me and could only hope it wouldn’t bite me to stay on.

Within a couple of minutes, we were cantering leisurely through the Bazaar, the jingling of the bridle and Nelly’s hooves the only sound. That in itself was odd, for if Mr. Timmons had roused the troops, there should be indications of movement this close to the camp. I could see some of the tents when I gazed between the flimsy metal sheeting that formed the walls of many of the shops; no one yet had started their preparations for the day.

“That was lovely,” Yao gushed. “Can we do it again?”

“Another time,” I said. “Nelly, where is…”

“Blast and tarnations!” a man bellowed from somewhere up ahead.

The words could’ve been uttered from around the corner of the ramshackle store I was approaching or they could’ve originated from near the train station. The quality of the air allowed for sound to travel far and wide; it didn’t allow me to verify who uttered the curse or from where.

A gunshot followed in short order, the force of its noise amplified by the stillness of the night. Even the insects held their breath as the echo reverberated across the plains.

People began to stir in the camp, nervous murmurs trickling through the silence. I sniffed at the air: dry grass, soil, kerosene and ozone tingled in my noise. Ozone could mean only one of two things were approaching: a storm or Kam.

I reined Nelly in, and she snuffed at the ground, searching for something edible. Upon finding nothing more than packed dirt, she promptly fell asleep. Another shot shattered the silence, and a few kerosene lanterns were lit within the camp that was off to one side. Ahead of me, footsteps approached with the rapidity of a fugitive.

The firefly lit up and fluttered around my head. “How entertaining,” Yao said. “What a pity Gideon isn’t here to enjoy the festivities.”

I refrained from slapping the bug into oblivion, although I did wonder what a squashed Adze would look like. Instead, I gaped at the apparition that had rounded the corner and was speeding toward me. At first I thought it was a small tent that had been animated somehow by a very talented sorcerer. Then I realized that there were limbs within the flapping fabric, and a head too, one that was all too familiar.

“Simon?” I asked, aghast, for it was clear that Mr. Timmons was experiencing difficulties with his tent-sized clothes. His pants only remained in a decent position because he was holding them against his waist with one hand. “Have you shrunk?”

“In a manner of speaking, madam, yes,” he said in between ragged breaths. He reached out with his free hand and leaned against Nelly’s shoulder. “If you will recall, Dr. Spurrier is significantly larger than I. While I was assuming his form, these clothes suited me well enough.”

“Say no more,” I said, for based on what Yao had told me and Mr. Timmons’ current condition, I could surmise well enough what had transpired once the real Dr. Spurrier had awoken. It wouldn’t do for people to see double, after all, unless they were thoroughly inebriated. “Do try to keep your pants on though. It wouldn’t be seemly for you to lose both a body and your clothes.”

“Too many clothes,” Yao buzzed around us. “Let him drop his pants, Miss Knight.”

Mr. Timmons peered up at me, bemusement softening his features. “I’m pleased to see you have a chaperone, Mrs. Timmons. After all, I wouldn’t want you wandering about this dodgy area of town unaccompanied.”

“I am all caution and propriety, Mr. Timmons,” I said with a sniff. “Perhaps we should secure ourselves out of sight? I hear others approaching.”

“You truly are the epitome of wisdom, my dear,” Mr. Timmons acknowledged as he led Nelly down a narrow opening between two flimsy shacks, and around the back of one. Shadows enveloped us and I glanced up to the corrugated iron roofing, but there was no brain-devouring, hyena-type creature lurking there.

Behind us, men marched down the rough road and I didn’t have to see them to know they were British troops. Perhaps it was the whiff of the polish they used obsessively on their boots, or the cadence of their footfalls that indicated a communal discipline that was utterly lacking in the rest of the town.

I leaned over and whispered, “Now what?”

Mr. Timmons was leaning around the corner, watching the troops pass by our location. He pulled himself back and stared toward the camp. “I was rather hoping you’d have an idea.”

The firefly elongated and morphed into Yao. He was beaming with unseemly enthusiasm. “Yao knows, Yao knows!” he said, jumping on the balls of his bare feet. “Yawa and Yao, we can hunt down the sick and drain them. Please, let’s do that, let’s, oh let’s.”

That neither Mr. Timmons nor I immediately protested the idea was as clear an indication of the lack of alternatives as any. Rather than face the decision that lurked before us, I touched Mr. Timmons’ shoulder. “Did Dr. Spurrier see you then?”

He nodded. “He had quite a fright at that, seeing his double. I was at the barracks and in the midst of relaying orders to the captain when our dear doctor burst into the room, and before either of them fully recuperated their senses, I leaped out the window. But that’s not where the trouble lies.”

“Oh?” I asked, wondering where else it could.

“No,” he said. “They leaned out the window and shouted after me. Fortunately, they didn’t see me, as I was hiding amongst some bushes.” He pulled his baggy pants higher. “But they did observe Dr. Ribeiro’s patient exiting the Bazaar.”

“The zombified patient?” I gasped.

“The very same,” he said and glanced at his hand that was clutching the waist of the oversized pants. “I really do need my clothes back.”

“Clothes are so overrated,” Yawa purred as she materialized before us, providing a clear example of how little she valued clothes for herself. My petticoat had more fabric than her entire ensemble. I felt inclined to nudge Mr. Timmons with the fist end of my walking stick to distract him from the sight.