Page 13 of Pulled By the Tail
No. Those did not nest in houses. They buried their eggs in grassy fields, the more vegetation the better.
“Vermin. The place requires an exterminator,” Talen said, wondering how much of the dirt on the floor was scat and if he could slip on gloves and a mask without his brother mocking him. Let Quil laugh. He had never been bitten and suffered rat-bite fever or had to recuperate in an understaffed and overcrowded naval hospital.
“We’ll get awuap. They make good hunters,” Quil said.
The house had enough room for them all, more than enough. They could each have their own suite of rooms and still be able to comfortably put up a dozen guests and a herd of vermin-huntingwuaps. Talen had no idea why they needed so much space. He had lived the last decade of his life with all his possessions fitting into a duffel bag. What would he do with a suite of rooms? All he required was a bed and a footlocker.
Quil’s excitement grew as they ventured further into the house, but the repair costs kept racking up higher and higher in Talen’s mind.
“It’s not perfect, I know, but can’t you see the potential?” Quil said, standing in what had once been a library
Windows lined the far wall. Unfortunately, storm damage had broken half the windows. The library overlooked what had once been a charming garden but was now little more than an overgrown wilderness. Uncontrolled vines, heavy with perfume, pressed right against the glass and broke through into the room in several places. Sunlight filtered through the greenery, flooding the space with a soft light.
The room hurt Talen’s soul. Soggy books sat on the shelves, swollen and smelling of mold. A few books had obviously been chewed on by vermin. He couldn’t imagine that the remaining books were rare or valuable. The library had obviously built by someone who loved books and Talen wanted to believe that they took the most precious books with them when they abandoned the property. Still, most books were digital and physical copies grew scarce. How could they just leave all those books to rot?
The stairs to the upper level of the library looked like they would crumble to dust with the slightest bit of weight. Talen squinted, trying to see into the shadows of the upper level. Shelving lined the walls and he could see the binding of several books.
He needed to save the books that could be salvaged. The rank stink of the room made him sneeze but he could never forget the scent. It would haunt him.
Damn Quil for knowing exactly how to manipulate him.
Mentally, he already segregated the books into various categories: acceptable, damaged but salvageable, and those without hope of saving. Yeah, Quil knew all his buttons.
The outdated kitchen was fully furnished. Charl pulled out a set of tools—from where, Talen had no idea—and got the stove in working order.
Finally, they entered what had been the conservatory and Talen understood. Barely visible, black and white tiles peeked out from under the layer of dirt that carpeted the room. Half of the glass panes had been broken, exposing the room to the elements, and the surviving plant grew in a riot of greenery. A thick vine twined around the exposed skeleton of the windowpanes, up and over like a canopy, and exploded in pale violet blossoms. The floral scent overpowered the space, mixing with the pungent aroma of soil and decaying leaves.
Quil ignored the show stopping blossoms and fell to his knees in front of a low growing plant with broad silvery-green leaves. “Oh, look at you lovelies—”
“You planned this whole thing,” Talen said. They had targeted Lerrence, not out of a sense to right a wrong or even to liberate some credit from the arrogant man, and practically stole the man’s property because Quil wanted a plant.
“The moon violet, still thriving. You’re gorgeous. Yes, you are,” Quil said to the plant, reverently stroking the leaves.
“I wish someone would look at me the way he’s looking at that plant,” Charl said, sharing a sentiment disturbingly close to Talen’s own thoughts.
Bright found a stone bench, brushing off the surface before lowering herself with a sigh. The light pooled at her feet and the air warmed with the sun overhead. “How much work is it to get this place habitable?” she asked.
“It’s habitable now,” Quil said, rising to his feet.
“If you don’t mind a lack of heat and running water,” Charl said. “I suppose we could live on the ship until I got the basics working. The roof seems solid enough, but we might have some surprises the next time it storms. Let me take another look at the boiler in the basement.”
Talen grabbed Quil by the elbow and pulled the male to the side. “All this for a plant?”
His brother yanked his arm away. “Not just any plant, the moon violet. Very rare and only found in a handful of locations.”
“And here.”
“Yes! Aren’t they beautiful? They blossom under the moonlight, you know. The soil has to be just right. The fact that they’ve survive here, abandoned, is miraculous. This house is a miracle.”
“This house is a money pit,” Talen said.
“This house is our future.”
Talen disagreed strongly but Quil kept talking. “I know we’ll sink most of our money into repairs.”
“Our inheritance.” The compensation they received from a second cousin for their parent’s stolen estate and bank accounts. The brothers went missing after their parent’s assassination and were presumed dead. After a decade, they had been legally declared dead and a cousin inherited what should have been Quil’s. Talen didn’t particularly miss having a house and land, or a title, but he knew it bothered Quil, who had always loved the gardens.
Had the political climate allowed for Quil to inherit, rather than be smuggled off-planet to save his life, he would have made a fine lord of the manor.
