the counter so that my eyes were on a level with theirs. They looked at me with interest. A few of them vibrated with barely suppressed excitement, waiting to hear what I was going to say next. Hyper-religious mice can only pretend to be too cool for the clergy for so long.
“Hi,” I whispered, voice pitched so low that it was barely a breath. Human ears would have strained to hear me. I hoped the mice would be a different story. “I need you to be quiet and do something for me. Touch your ears if you agree.”
One by one, the mice touched their ears. I relaxed a little. Aeslin mice mean well, and they’re utterly devoted to the family, but the further something is from human, shape-wise, the less human its reactions are likely to be. Sometimes Aeslin will do things because they’re incapable of understanding that those things are a terrible idea. Sometimes that includes cheering when asked to be quiet, because the joy of receiving a direct request from one of their gods is so great that they simply can’t contain it. It’s not their fault. It’s frequently our problem.
(When I was little, I used to have nightmares about the family colony falling in love with me because of my pheromones. Dad told me, over and over again, that it was never going to happen, that Lilu are only irresistibly attractive to species we’re biologically compatible with whose sexual orientations are compatible with being attracted to us—and that’s a fun conversation for a seven-year-old to have with their father—but nightmares aren’t logical, and sometimes their blind, burning devotion could look an awful lot like love to a kid who was afraid of changing the world without intending to.)
“Were any of you down here when she went to sleep on the couch?” I pointed behind myself toward the couch.
The mice shook their heads.
Damn. I guess that would have been too easy, since it would have let me ask way more specific questions about what she’d been doing before that and how she’d looked before she curled up and put her head down. Oh, well.
“Watch her,” I instructed, still in that nearly silent whisper. “If she moves, one of you follows her, and the rest go looking for someone who can help you. Do you understand?”
Again, the mice touched their ears.
“I’ll bring you a pizza tomorrow,” I promised. The mice, mindful of their promise to be quiet, mimed cheering. I gave them a thumbs-up, and rose.
Buying pizza for the mice is always a fun way to horrify the local Italian restaurants. They don’t like any of the cheap take-out options—mice can have good taste, too—and they want everything on their pies. Everything. Pineapple and anchovies and when the seasonal specials line up, pears and walnuts and gorgonzola and balsamic vinegar. For them, it’s like having an entire buffet delivered straight to their door. For the pizzamakers who have to put their horrifying concoctions together, it’s like being punked by some asshole reality show.
As quietly as I could, I climbed the stairs to the second floor. All the doors there were closed, which is something we’re supposed to respect. An open bedroom door means company is welcome, a closed one means go the hell away. I ignored them and kept walking, until I reached the door at the end of the hall.
KEEP OUT said the sign on the front, and YES, VERITY, THIS MEANS YOU said the amendment underneath it, and I CAN SET FIRES WITH MY MIND NOW, LET ME SLEEP IN said the third piece of paper, all of them written in Antimony’s careful, tightly controlled hand. She had always been a big fan of block letters, which were unambiguous and easily read from a distance. Which was also a pretty good description of Annie herself, really.
I opened the door.
Everyone’s bedroom is unique. Even hotel rooms, which start out sterile and identical, will take on the character of their occupants after a day or two. Annie had been sleeping in the same bedroom since she was two years old. She’d had a lot of time to settle in.
The walls were dominated by books and weapon racks. The closet—which had no doors, since closets with doors are practically an invitation for things to sneak in and jump out at innocent cryptozoologists who just want to sleep—contained her dresser, as well as all her clothes, and several polearms. The swaths of wall that weren’t blocked off by other furnishings were