Page 39 of Pulled By the Tail
“Don’t encourage it. Just get rid of it.”
“You’ll give Humility a complex.Wuapsare very sensitive to the emotions of their people and she’s our best hunter. We don’t want her to feel unappreciated.”
Humility hissed and the mouse squeaked. Something thumped under the bed. Georgia stuffed her fist in her mouth to preserve what little dignity she had. Mice didn’t normally freak her out, but this was an alien mouse, it could be venomous for all she knew, and she did wake to see it dangling out of the jaws of Humility, feet scrabbling at the air, squeaking and twitching.
“This is a nightmare. I’m still asleep,” she said.
Humility bolted out from the bed, tumbling across the floor with the said rodent in her mouth. Then, pretty as you please, thewuapjumped back into the bed, tail feathers fanned, and swallowed the mouse whole.
Georgia jumped off the bed and wrapped her arms around Talen. Slowly, he brought his arms around her in reassurance.
“She won’t hurt you,” he said.
“That’s the most barbaric thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“Looked plenty bad to me,” she said. “It toyed with it. That’s cruel.”
“You should see footage of wildwuapshunting. They toy with their prey, too.”
She knew that Earth cats toyed with their prey before the kill, too. It was one thing to know that intellectually, it was another to hear the frightened little squeaks of a mouse having a mousy heart attack.
“Wildwuaps?” she asked.
“About this big.” He gestured to his knees.
“You know what? I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.” The domesticated version of thewuapwas the size of a large housecat. She didn’t need to picture a feathery murder machine the size of a pony.
Humility sat on the bed, cleaning her paws.
“Can we trade beds tonight?” she asked. Not a drop of blood had been spilled on the bed, but she couldn’t stomach crawling back under the blankets. At least, not until the bed had been stripped and everything washed on hot.
“You can sleep with me,” he said, not teasing her for being squeamish.
Chapter 8
Georgia
Freema,
It’s only the one tattoo, but it’s military, so that’s worth three at least.
-G
Days blended into weeks and Georgia learned the rhythm of the house. A woman came in from town three times a week to clean. Bright served as housekeeper and cook, managing two meals a day. They were on their own for lunch. Talen and Charl handled general maintenance and repairs. Construction on the house would go faster if they hired laborers but after Talen’s frank discussion about their finances, she understood the slower pace to be a frugal decision. Quil concentrated on his plants, which meant he mostly left her alone, only occasionally wandering through the house with a bag of potting soil and a trowel. She had no idea what Fiona did and preferred to keep it that way.
The house had sixwuaps, the species of the cat-peacock creature that feasted on a mouse in Georgia’s bed. Each had their own personality. Justice insisted on sleeping in Georgia’s bed each night. A cushion by the fire was insufficient, nor was an appropriately sized pet bed. Humility brought in a steady supply of dead rodents, leaving the offerings at the foot of the main staircase. Patience prowled the outdoors and only came in when the weather turned wet. Kindness was nothing but a bunch of lazy bones loosely held together by feathers and spent all her time napping in the sun. Fortitude followed Georgia with curiosity but scurried away when she tried to pet him. She had yet to see the mysterious sixthwuap, Prudence, who was reported to be shy.
Georgia never thought of herself as a cat person—or a cat-peacock person—but she liked it when Justice jumped up on her lap when reading or curled up on the bed each night. She didn’t care for it so much when she found a partially eaten mouse in her slippers.
She worried about the spring. At the current pace of construction, they wouldn’t be ready. They only had three rooms ready for guests and three, even if they were occupied every day, would not pay the bills.
Spring also brought other considerations, such as groundskeeping. The grounds were extensive and overgrown. Quil would need at least another person to help him tame the gardens, lawn, and environs.
If guest occupancy increased, then they needed to hire additional housekeeping, and possibly a kitchen assistant. Bright never complained, but Georgia saw how stiffly she moved and climbed the stairs. No doubt Bright would blame the cold rather than age if anyone ever fussed about her. Georgia kept her mouth shut and added a note about hiring assistants for Bright.
The first task on her list was to sort out the broken windows. The house needed to make a good first impression, not scare away guests with the promise of drafty rooms. A conversation with the contractor revealed they were waiting on the windows to be delivered before they could install them. With another call, she discovered the windows would not be delivered until the invoice was paid.
