In which we learn a tiny bit about the del Perros, and Old Tom prepares the house for a confrontation.
Lyddia glanced up from her laptop in surprise. “You know del Perro?”
“Know of him, more like. He is a dog, after all. Scarcely a fellow with whom we would fraternize willingly,” Old Tom replied. “He has a hostelry business–the del Perro’s were ever popular as inn-keepers. That social thing dogs do, ya know.”
“Pack instinct,” Lyddia nodded. “Cats tend to establish territories, and separate when the kits are grown. This is an unusual situation for you here, then, yes?”
Old Tom shrugged. “Some’at. Cats are survivors. We like our comforts, and a well kept house doesn’t come cheap.”
“Do you know if del Perro’s change runs on the same rules as your own?” Lyddia was speed typing notes as she spoke.
“Haven’t a clue. My great-grandfather had contact with the del Perros. My own knowledge is limited to the night he was chased up a tree by one, and the change took them both when the moon came up. They did confer, and came away from that meeting with a truce; but I have no idea what the terms may have been. Dulce may have records.”
“I’ll ask,”said Lyddia. “We will need to make contact, but I really want more information…” She paused as a loud knocking came at the door.
A small boy with green eyes, pale skin and amazingly black hair came dashing into the kitchen. “Daddy, Daddy, there be three big men at the door!”
Old Tom nodded, as if he had been expecting this news. “Run then, Little Midnight, and get the other toms from the looms. Tell them to arms and to stations.”
The lad dashed away. Old Tom reached into the same drawer that had contained his kilt, and brought out a very business like cavalry saber and an ornate pistol, both hung from a broad belt. He fastened the belt around his waist. Observing this, Dan armed himself with the iron skillet he had picked off the wall earlier that day. When he glanced over, Lyddia had picked up the same wicked toasting fork Dulce had armed herself with in the afternoon.
Old Tom stalked to the door, with an arrogant swagger that left no doubt he knew how to use his armaments. A second round of knocking resounded thunderously through the old house.
“Who comes by night? Who disturbs the peace at this hour?” Old Tom called out.
As he spoke, 19 younger men filled the room. All were armed in a similar manner to his own. They filled the space between bowl chair and door, effectively blocking entry to the rest of the house.
Again, Old Tom called out, “Who goes there? Who comes knocking on such a night?”
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