As our car puttered along, gasping and wheezing like an asthmatic mummy, I wasn’t convinced we would make it out to the subdivision. We had to park two blocks away because of the growing crowds.
The cul-de-sac was already a circus of reporters and policemen (who weren’t necessarily supporters of unnatural rights). Since Meadow Shadows was outside the Quarter, McGoo had been unable to help us.
Tiffany agreed to show up as a concerned citizen, accompanied by Bill (maybe as practice for his security job applications). Their presence was something, at least, but not an overwhelming show of support. Harvey Jekyll and his bodyguard Larry arrived incognito, to see what sort of difficulties he might face once he moved out to the suburbs. They hung at the edges of the crowd.
Robin and I made our way to the nice ranch house just as the moving van arrived with Walter and Judy Patterson and all their possessions.
Emboldened by the recent legislative victory, ten of Senator Balfour’s moronic minions were picketing with their GOD HATES UNATURALS and KEEP THE FILTH IN THE SOUWER signs. They formed a human cordon across the road to block the moving van, but the police herded them aside long enough for the truck to drive through before the cordon re-formed, now preventing the van from leaving the cul-de-sac. That might have made the situation even worse, I thought.
Robin and I pushed our way forward to meet the married couple as they swung down from the cab. Mr. and Mrs. Patterson wore work clothes, ready to haul boxes inside and set up their household, but they cringed from the howls, insults, and catcalls that came from the angry crowd.
Robin turned to shout at the spectators. “This couple has every right to live here. Shame on you all.”
“Shame on you!” said one of Senator Balfour’s supporters. “God hates unnaturals, but He loves Meadow Shadows subdivision!”
“Go home!” yelled someone else.
Judy Patterson took her vampire husband’s hand, lifted her snout, and faced the angry mob. “We are home!” Although she wanted to bare her fangs and claws while her husband glamoured them all, Robin had advised the Pattersons to take the high road. They spoke with respect instead of anger, and the media recorded every bit of it.
Mrs. Patterson gestured toward the house with a furry hand. “We’ll pay property taxes, we’ll maintain the landscaping, and we’ll do everything we can to be good neighbors.”
Mr. Patterson added, “This has long been a dream of ours. My wife and I are very happy to be living together in our new home.”
A small number of spectators applauded; a large number didn’t. As soon as the Pattersons opened the front door, a professional-looking man in a black business suit and narrow tie stepped up the sidewalk to meet them. The guy-in-tie handed over a folded sheaf of papers. “Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, consider yourselves served. You are hereby in violation of the Unnatural Acts Act. This is a summons with charges pending. Senator Balfour intends to see that this matter is prosecuted to the fullest extent. Our legal teams are already preparing their briefs.”
Robin took the summons from him, unfolded the papers. “This is ridiculous! They’re just moving into a house. They’ve qualified for a mortgage, and they have just as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“No, I’m afraid they do not,” said the guy-in-tie. “The Unnatural Acts Act makes it patently illegal for any person to ‘live with an unnatural in a conjugal manner,’ and they just publicly admitted to doing so.”
“But we’re married!” said Mr. Patterson.
The business-suited man cleared his throat. “According to the Act, your marriage is not recognized either, because marriage is specifically defined as one human man and one human woman.”
The spectators began to shout and howl. The guy-in-tie turned away, walked down the sidewalk, and melted into the crowd.
Tears rolled down the fur on Mrs. Patterson’s face. “It’s like a stake through my heart,” Mr. Patterson said.
“Don’t you worry,” Robin said, then yelled for the media. “I plan to fight this—just as I fought to get the sweatshop golems freed, and as I’m fighting discrimination against the human bartender at the Goblin Tavern!”
The police dispersed the crowd, and I noticed that Harvey Jekyll had slunk away with his werewolf bodyguard shouldering spectators aside.
Tiffany and Bill tried to cheer the Pattersons by pitching in to unload the moving van, but it didn’t help much. We all carried boxes inside, hoping to encourage the unnatural