their game of Go. Sara had the white stones, Jamie the black. The game took almost three hours and ended with Sara forcing Jamie into a position where he could only give up his stones and not attack.
"I want a five-stone handicap next time," he said and Sara laughed.
Fred and Sam had returned to their own rooms and Sally and Blue watched an old Bette Davis movie on the TV that ended about the same time as the Go game. While Sally went up to the Firecat's Room and Jamie to his study, Sara accompanied Blue on his rounds. Having accepted the position of Security Chief on his own initiative (it wasn't really necessary, but if it made him happy), Blue took his self-imposed duties very seriously. Every night before he went to bed, he went around the House to check things out.
"You don't know how easy a place like this would be to burgle," he told Sara.
"But if someone really wants to," Sara said, "a locked door or latched window isn't going to stop them. And besides, anyone's welcome here anyway."
"Not anyone," Blue insisted.
"Well, Jamie's never turned anyone away."
"The House makes its own decisions about who stays and who goes," Blue said.
It really seemed that way sometimes, Sara admitted to herself, but she took the opportunity to pounce on Blue's logic.
"Then there's no real need for you to do your rounds, is there?" she asked.
"Yeah, well... it makes me feel like I'm contributing something, you know? And if there ever is any trouble..."
In recent memory, there'd only been trouble once. But Blue had handled it with frightening efficiency. An English woman had been staying with them— one of Jamie's literary contacts in London. She'd gone out in the evening and been followed back to the House by a couple of men who gave Darwin's theory of evolution undeniable credence. They'd hardly had a chance to lay a hand on her before Blue was there to convince them of the error of their ways. Both of them ended up in the hospital. The most surprising thing was that, for all Blue's biker image, he was normally as gentle as a lamb. Until something he cared for was threatened.
Sara thought about Blue as she got ready for bed. It was kind of scary knowing there was that capacity in him, even though he kept it in check. She'd watched him working out with his weights, the sweat glistening on his tattooed arms and his broad chest, the way his muscles corded and knotted as he worked the bench press. When he went at the punching bag, she was sure it was going to split under his blows. But scary or not, it was comforting to have him there should the need ever arise for his particular talents. And besides, she loved him like a big brother.
She'd had some of her best times with him, sitting around and talking, or watching a movie. He loved movies, from the old silent screen gems to Raiders of the Lost Ark. There was a true artistic streak in him as well. Whenever Sara took one of her courses with Julie, she ended up tutoring him as well, which helped her grasp the techniques better herself. There's nothing like teaching someone to see how much you know about something, Sara discovered. He'd tried everything from macrame to soft sculpture. He'd made the floppy-eared rabbit for her one Easter that was her favorite plush toy next to Mr. Tistle who now guarded The Merry Dancers for her.
He'd settled on watercolors as his best medium of expression, which probably explained why he and Sally got along so well. It was an odd sight to see the big galoot hunched over a delicate watercolor, the paintbrush looking like a toothpick in his big hands. His painting of the fox that hung in her room was as good as any professional could do.
She looked at it now, then remembered this afternoon's find. She'd forgotten to show it to him. Well, tomorrow was soon enough, she decided, and a huge yawn settled the matter. She went around flicking off the lights in her sitting room and the washroom, and headed for bed. Pulling the comforter up to her chin, her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley