“Is at least one of the windows open?”
“All of them wide open.”
And without screens, of course—another item on our repairs and renovation list.
“Then we leave the lights on and let him find his own way back out into the darkness,” I said. “Unless there’s some compelling reason for him to stay—do you suppose we have mice?”
“I think if we had mice, we’d have found out by now,” Michael said, “considering how many people have been sleeping on the floor.”
“Good point,” I said. “But let’s not mention that, or we’ll be up half the night chasing imaginary mice out of everyone’s sleeping bags.”
Outside, I found that a dozen of my relatives had surrounded Darlene and were trying to comfort her. My arrival sent her into a renewed frenzy.
“You knew!” she sobbed. “You knew that monster was out there all the time! How can you be so cruel?”
“I told you to keep your windows closed if you didn’t want things flying in,” I said.
“I thought you meant insects,” she said. “Little insects. So I wore some mosquito repellant. I didn’t expect to be attacked by a ravenous bird of prey! How can you—”
“Where are the scoundrels?”
We all started as Mrs. Fenniman emerged from her room, waving the antique cavalry saber she always kept under her bed for protection. Though considering how soundly Mrs. Fenniman slept, I didn’t think the local burglars were in much danger. And come to think of it, tonight she was using a sleeping bag like the rest of us—where had she put the sword?
“Gone,” I said aloud.
“Dang,” she said. “Never any fun around here.”
With that, she jammed the point of the sword into one of the floorboards and left it there, quivering, while she stomped back into her room.
Mrs. Fenniman’s arrival had startled Darlene into silence, but now she began to sniffle again.
“Now, now,” Rose Noir said, putting her arm around Darlene’s shoulder. “I know it was a terrifying experience. But consider what a wonderful omen you’ve received!”
“Omen?” Darlene said, with a sniffle. “That horrible monster?”
“Many cultures consider the owl sacred,” Rose Noir said. “They were beloved by the goddess Athena, symbolic of wisdom, and considered protectors of warriors.”
She nattered on for a few minutes, relating bits of owl lore from around the globe, in a strangely soothing voice. Darlene began looking calmer, and one by one the rest of the gathered relatives yawned, said good night, and returned to bed.
“Why don’t you stay in my room for the rest of the night,” Rose Noir suggested eventually. “I’m sure Meg will get the owl out of your room by morning.”
Still sniffling Darlene made a visit to the bathroom—though not until Michael had checked it and declared it owl-free.
“I notice you didn’t mention all the cultures that consider owls a bad omen,” I said to Rose Noir once the bathroom door had closed behind Darlene. I knew a bit of owl lore, too, thanks to Dad and SPOOR. “Like the ancient Roman and early British belief that hearing an owl hoot foretells death, or all the African countries that think the owl is too evil to name and just call it ‘the bird that makes you afraid,’ or—”
“I see no reason to dwell on the negative side of things,” Rose Noir said, frowning at me.
Cousin Darlene emerged from the bathroom.
“I’ll need my makeup kit in the morning,” she said, and followed Rose Noir down the corridor, trailing her sleeping bag behind her.
“Yes,” I murmured as the door closed behind her and Rose Noir. “And you might just get it back, if you tell me who you sold Horace’s gorilla suit to.”
“She didn’t,” Michael said. “How could she?”
“She did, and he dumped her because of it,” I said.
“Good for Horace,” Michael said.
Another item in the plus column. Michael not only tolerated my family, he actually liked them.
Some days, more than I liked them myself.
“Why not get Rose Noir to find out who got the suit?” Michael suggested. “Darlene will probably feel very grateful to her by tomorrow.”
“Great idea,” I said.
Just then Mrs. Fenniman’s door flew open. She stomped out into the hall, wrenched the saber out of the floor, and disappeared into her room again. A few seconds later I heard a sharp thud. Michael and I both winced and glanced involuntarily at the gash in the hall floorboard.
“We need to refinish the floors anyway,” Michael said, finally. “Let’s turn in.”