“No,” Sean said. “I dropped her back into the Pit.”

Dushegubs were gonochoric, with male and female trees. Telling them apart was pretty much impossible, but only females produced the spore pods.

“Their spore pods aren’t lethal,” I explained. “They cause a temporary stupor. They hurl them at distant prey to knock it out so they can get close and eat it.”

Had the pod landed, Bestata would’ve taken a nap. But then, with vampire metabolism, it might have only slowed her down, and then we would be treated to a stunning impersonation of Paul Bunyan done in knight armor with vampire weapons. A primed blood sword would cut through an adult Dushegub in two or three swings.

“We keep all our guests safe. Even the pesky ones,” Sean said.

“Speaking of guests,” the First Scholar said. “Could the inn accommodate three more? I wish to see how this contest plays out.”

“We would be delighted to have you with us,” I told him. “But what of your lectures?”

The First Scholar sighed. “Steering the development of young minds is an arduous and draining task. One should rest to be most effective, and a few days of self-study and personal contemplation would be beneficial to my students.”

I still had the koo-ko coop in storage, but it would be way too large. I carved a new set of rooms in the observer wing and began shaping them into a small habitat. What was it he liked last time? Millet. That was it. I’d need to let Orro know.

Sean’s cell rang. He took it out of his robe and looked at it. “Marais.”

Officer Marais had been moonlighting as our security guard. He had a ton of leave built up, so he had taken a week off to guard Gertrude Hunt. He also did not share that fact with his wife. I had a feeling there would be hell to pay.

Sean listened for a few moments.

“I’ll be right there.” He hung up and turned to me. “We have protesters.”

“What?”

“Some sort of Dominion religious group is protesting in front of the inn. They have an issue with the spousal selection.”

“In broad daylight?”

I pulled the feed from the street-facing cameras onto the nearest big screen. Three people stood in front of the inn, just outside of the boundary. They must’ve used skin tints because their skin shades looked terrestrial enough. Their high-tech signs, projected from small metal rods and glowing neon, did not.

“I’ve got this,” Sean told me.

He took off toward a wall. The inn made an opening for him.

I waved the screen off.

“Is this urgent?” the First Scholar asked.

“No worries, Sean will handle it.” I finished furnishing the room and opened a passageway to the observer wing. “Let me show you to your rooms.”