Jacob stood in the open doorway of the barn, deep in conversation with Marjorie. Now that she and Adrian were home from their art studio, they’d promised to look after his water shrews while Jacob attended his poetry meeting. He’d been training the baby shrews to respond to different whistled tones, which Adrian could replicate almost perfectly.
“All right,” said Jacob as he deposited two shrews into each of their arms. “They’re unlikely to bite, and don’t worry if they lick you. Their venomous saliva only kills small mammals.”
Marjorie looked at the baby shrews in her arms doubtfully. “I’m small.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jacob assured her. “The important thing to remember is—”
“Ha!” shouted Kuni, followed by a resoundingthwack.
Jacob glanced out toward the garden to see his sister-in-law engaged in one of her dagger-throwing sessions. Occasionally Graham joined her, when he felt like looking comically incompetent. Kuni’s daggers could hit the bull’s-eye of a target from a dizzying distance. None of the other siblings bothered to try.
“About the robbery,” Marjorie said. “The mistress has a point. We cannot rule out Mrs. Olivebury. An elaborate revenge plot does show a certain sense of style.”
“She had means, motive, and opportunity,” agreed Adrian. “Ifshe stumbled across that portrait unexpectedly… Hell hath no fury, et cetera.”
“Look!” Kuni yelled. “I can hit the middle throwing backward over my shoulder!”
They looked.
Which was how Jacob saw the rear door to the house swing open and Vivian step out, just as Kuni was letting fly with a new round of daggers twenty yards away—well out of Vivian’s line of sight.
Jacob opened his mouth to shout Vivian’s name but only got as far as the initialVvvsound when the first dagger sailed past Vivian’s cheek nearly close enough to pierce her ear.
That is, the daggerwouldhave sailed past her cheek.
Without pausing, Vivian snatched the handle out of thin air, sliced open the wax seal on the letter she was holding, then sent the dagger flying on in the original direction it had been heading.
The blade hit the bull’s-eye with a clink of metal-on-metal as Vivian’s blade knocked Kuni’s previous dagger off the target.
“Um,” said Marjorie. “What?”
“She’s the Wynchesteriest of us all,” breathed Adrian in stupefaction.
“And she doesn’t evenlikeWynchesters,” Marjorie added.
“We’re growing on her,” Jacob assured his sister once he regained his breath. “And possibly a bad influence.”
“Did I hit it?” called Kuni as she spun back around to check the target.
“No,” Jacob answered in disbelief. “Vivian did.”
“Does she even realize she hit it?” asked Marjorie in wonder.
“Kuni!” Vivian yelled, the breeze fluttering her freshly opened letter in her face as she cupped her hands to her mouth. “Do you prefer whipstitch or French hems?”
“Are those foodstuffs or new dances?” Kuni called back, baffled.
Vivian held the letter over her eyes to block out the sun as shelooked Kuni up and down. She nodded to herself, then turned to jog back inside the house.
Kuni shrugged, as if having already forgotten the encounter, then let loose with a fresh throwing knife toward the target. Another bull’s-eye—right next to Vivian’s.
Jacob’s heart might never return to normal.
“Am I the only one who has no idea what just happened?” asked Marjorie.
“I never know what’s happening,” said Adrian.
Jacob glanced at his pocket watch. If he didn’t hurry, he was going to be late for his poetry meeting. “Kuni, don’t kill me! I’m crossing the garden.”
